He shrugged, typically Gallic. “My plane made better time than expected, and fortunately we weren’t attacked by wild animals on our way to your desolate outpost.” He said the last drolly, sweeping his glance over the back balcony and the breathtaking beach panorama.

“Robert is a very gifted tattoo artist. Lord Mason thought you might want him to design a tattoo for your back.” Amara’s expression said clearly she’d expected Mason to tell Jess about this, which said she wasn’t aware of the argument they’d had. The volatile blood taking, followed by his abrupt dismissal, his “run along and play and don’t bother me” routine. Jess suppressed the desire to grind her teeth.

“Robert, let’s go have a glass of wine.” Amara spoke over her silence. “We’ll let Jessica finish up her paperwork. We’ve caught her in the middle of things and she needs time to change direction.”

“Certainement.” Nodding, he squeezed her hand. Tension thrummed through her arm, more strongly this time, so that Jessica had to quell the desire to yank it back. “But I will say, it will be a pleasure to work on so lovely a lady.” Her back was many things, but lovely was not one of them. The only good thing about the scars was she couldn’t see them without twisting around like a contortionist. But she was well aware of them, the way they pulled against her healthy flesh, as constant a reminder as Mason’s bracelets and collar now. And how were they different, really?

No. They were different. Each time Raithe took a strip of her flesh, he’d followed it with an experience to hammer home the lesson that she couldn’t escape him. The rape by the household staff had been stripe number four.

“Jessica?” Amara drew her out of her thoughts with a light touch that made Jess jump. Robert had left them, headed back to the verandah area. The woman settled her hand on her forearm, a reassuring grip above the silver manacle. “Lord Mason has decided to allow you to accompany us to the club next month. You have several weeks to think about it. If you change your mind, you’re welcome to stay at home. You go only as his guest, to enjoy the dancing and entertainment. You will not be expected to participate in the club’s activities.”

Amara’s gaze flickered downward. Jess realized she’d reversed their grips and was clutching her arm hard, that same white-knuckled response she’d had last time the club was mentioned. At one time, she’d liked to dance, so dancing sounded good. But at this club, she couldn’t avoid seeing others perform the acts that terrified her to the bone. Even if done consensually, they would suck her into her memories like a drain.

Letting go of Amara, she forced herself to get a grip on her emotions. She’d asked Mason for this, as a way to face her fears. She had to learn to take care of herself. She couldn’t be afraid of every man’s casual touch. “All right,” she said. It was several weeks off, after all.

“Robert is also your decision. You are not required to do anything. My lord thought it might be something that would please you, however.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. I don’t want him touching me. I especially don’t want that part of me touched. Still, Jessica gave a nod. “Let me think about it for a few minutes.”

“All right.” Amara squeezed her arm. As the woman turned, she hesitated, looking over one bare, tanned shoulder, her black and dark green patterned sarong enhancing her willowy body. She looked like an enticing, exotic tropical plant. She belonged in this dark and mysterious world, was at home here in a way Jessica never could be.

“Mason did not come to me last night.” Her gaze flickered over Jess’s throat. Though Jess knew the collar rested over where he’d pierced her artery, and the puncture scars had healed already, it felt as though Amara could see them. “I thought you’d want to know that.”

“Why?” Jess crossed her arms over her body.

Amara cocked her head, her lovely fan of ebony hair rippling in the breeze. “He is different with you, Jessica. You have been through a great deal, so I don’t tell you this to make you change anything about who you are or what you want. But have a care with him. He does not open himself to others easily. You might not see it as a gift, but do not abuse it, if you can help it.”

“He’s going to get really pissed off at you if you keep handling him.”

“Yes.” Amara inclined her head. “But I love him too well to say nothing.” She moved away then, leaving Jessica staring after her. Even Raithe’s devotees had been smart enough to fear his anger, his wrath.

But there was a difference between an abused dog that tried to love her master, thinking if she remained devoted, he would eventually stop beating her, and the prized pet who’d never known a reason to be afraid of him. Perhaps Amara wouldn’t appreciate the analogy, but for the first time Jessica realized Amara did not fear Mason, because he’d given her no reason to.

In fact, in the short time she’d been with Mason, he’d given Jess no reason, either. It was the overlap of her memories with Raithe, the nearness of them to her present-day existence, that instilled fear in her. This, despite the fact that Mason’s age, strength and power made Raithe look like a bumbling fledgling in comparison.

“Not might is right. Might for right.” She murmured the quote from Camelot, the play her parents had taken her to see for her sixteenth birthday. She’d been enthralled with King Arthur, knowing she’d have never left him for Lancelot.

Enrique was waiting for Amara around the corner. When she reached him, he cupped her neck, drew her against his body for a lingering kiss. Amara smiled against his lips, enjoying his hard chest, the lean hips under her caressing hands. “So how did she react?” he asked.

“He hadn’t told her, so they must have quarreled. Do you think she realizes she’s being wooed?”

“As much as he realizes he’s wooing her,” Enrique observed. “He’s slept deeply today. I haven’t heard from him.”

“No.” Amara’s gaze shadowed. “He is troubled by her.”

“It’s for them to resolve,” Enrique reminded her, bending to nuzzle her throat. His hand slipped down to cup a buttock. Amara swayed into him as he nipped her, sharply enough to cause a gasp. “Try to stay out of it, or you’ll feel Lord Mason’s lash.”

“And won’t you enjoy watching that?” Her lips curved, but she sucked in another breath as he increased the pressure of his grip.

“Go to Robert and don’t tease me. Otherwise I might wield the whip myself.”

“Promises, promises, my husband.”

Jess saw the embrace between the two servants, though she couldn’t hear their exchange. A few moments later, Amara slid away to rejoin Robert, though Enrique caressed her arm and then her wrist, holding her briefly, a casual possessiveness before she maneuvered free with a smile. Having lived in the company of vampires, Jessica’s notion of traditional monogamous relationships had forever been scrambled. Still, the bond between husband and wife, existing under the umbrella of the vampire’s sensual demands on them both, was an enigma she wasn’t sure would ever make sense to her.

However, she needed to think about Robert, and what Mason was offering to her. She wished he’d taken the time to tell her about it, so she’d have more time to consider it. A tattoo . . . she wasn’t sure what she thought of that. But when she thought of Robert bending over her, touching the stripes, reminding her of their presence, laying his hands on her . . .

Would it make you feel better if I was there, habiba ?

A flood of reassurance came with his voice, so strong she knew the magic of her collar and cuffs had been a mere shadow of it. But she squelched her reaction. “I’m not talking to you. You were an ass last night. And yes, I would feel better. But no, I don’t want you there.”

Even inside her mind, a woman is still incomprehensible.

“Oh, bullshit. You understand perfectly. Whatever it is you’re doing to me, I don’t want it. I don’t want to feel better having you around. I don’t want to be dependent on you. I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want him touching me.” A sudden quiet told her she’d made that last remark at a near shout, enough to still the quiet chatter from the nearby verandah where Robert and Amara were, perhaps even to reach the roofers who were working on the west wing. Biting her lip, she turned and exited the back stairs, striding across the gardens and breaking into an easy run, headed toward the ocean. Maybe he was like a cell phone. If she got far enough, he’d lose reception.

You’re right, Jessica. I do understand. You don’t want them touched, because you don’t want to be reminded of them, but they are there, every day, a reminder whenever you move. You think I don’t feel your discomfort? This is a way you can make them yours, if it pleases you to do so. Robert is an artist, as gifted as any of the old masters. He simply uses the human body as his canvas. At least talk to him, and then you can make the decision. If it helps, he prefers men exclusively.

“You don’t seem to have much problem with that side of the fence yourself. Sure us girls aren’t in the way?” Irritatingly, she heard a chuckle in her mind, not the annoyance she’d been intending to rouse. Habiba , male vampires do not share the insecurities of human males about touching another man. However, whatever pleasures I’ve experienced with a male body, my bonding preference has always been female. I think you are very aware of that, and if not, I’ ll be happy to prove it to you.

It wasn’t fair that he could make his voice that low, seductive whisper inside the chamber of her mind. But then his tone changed.

Do something that makes the scars belong to you, rather than the mark of the one who inflicted them. You say you want to depend on no one. Prove it. Make this decision for yourself.

With that curt admonishment, he went silent. She didn’t know if he was still reading her thoughts, but he’d left her as alone as she could expect from him. Dropping to her knees in the sand, she turned her face up to the afternoon sun, felt the damp sand against her bare legs. She was in the most beautiful setting she could wish. She loved the ocean, the horses, the rain forest . . . all of it. Yet vampires, with their unnatural beauty and their penchant for such settings, had taken away her unquestioning, easy enjoyment of those things.