LADY BAEVERA
“Whatever you paid for me, I am worth more than that,” I said aloud in a calm and composed tone, as my client stepped in, closing the door behind him.
“As I have been led to believe,” his tone rich with curiosity. “You are certainly more expensive than any pleasure maiden I have seen in a long while.”
That voice was familiar.
I really looked at him. He was tall, lean, and handsome. Confident in that effortlessly arrogant way of males used to power.
Then the memory clicked.
Baron James of Dunrowen, commander of three knightly houses and warden of the Southern Marches. He was a regular at Pleasur’io.
Of course. Some things never changed. He had always been a lover of the night and its women.
It was only a matter of time before he recognized me.
“How much did Lord Cel’th
