Chapter Eight
She told me the scent was Jasmine. Its rich aroma made me feel things inside. Francesca would light the crusty dust on fire and leave it glowing, the embers perfuming her tent so strongly, at first, I thought I might choke. After a while, I became used to the potent vapors that put me into my erotic imagination so easily, and quickly made my loins burn as if she’d lit them on fire too.
I think I was drunk on lust.
I remember little about my journey into Francesca’s care and Jacques’ bed. I know the trip to the seaport was a rough trek, and I was grateful the merchants didn’t use me as the Prince and Sir Roger had hoped they would. When we arrived at the busy docks, I was taken from my uncomfortable seat in the cart, to the hold of a vessel that would take me across the sea
