An hour later, the door to Davis's master bedroom chambers opened again.
This time, it was a black-robed beauty.
She stepped into the bedchamber as if the very air parted for her.
The lantern-light from the hall clung to her. Her black hair was swept high into a high bun, pinned with silver ornaments. A few rebellious strands of her hair escaped to frame her face, brushing the high curve of her cheek and the painted crimson of her mouth.
The robe had slipped from both shoulders and opened in a long gleaming line that left the inner curves of her breasts bare and shining. Silver floral embroidery traced the edges of the fabric and drew the eye down to the narrow red sash at her waist and the high slit that showed the pale length of her thighs with every unhurried step. A silver necklace lay in the hollow between her breasts and lifted with each breath as she walked.
She crossed the floor without haste as she strode seductively.
