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“Do you have a preference?” the man started to which Nicolo immediately nodded.
“Let us see the wood nymph.”
There were ten costumes in all for me to try on and the first nine were all variations on the theme of ‘skimpy and revealing’.
Nicolo was my master and I was under obligation to do as he told me—he could have pushed further if he’d wanted to—taken whatever he wanted from me. But I was quickly realizing such wasn’t his way. Taking what he wanted from me wouldn’t have been fun for him. And I did believe he viewed his whole association with me as something of a game. For all his well-earned reputation and the fear in which people held him, Nicolo liked to have fun. So, this whole trying on costumes bit was as much about making me feel awkward as it was about seeing my body. And he was enjoying every bit of my disquiet.
I tried to play with him a bit, as I had when I’d tried on my squire uniforms, but it was difficult to tease in costumes that were this blatant. In the back and forth of flirting and pushing each other’s buttons in which we’d indulged from the first time we met, this was a definite win for Nicolo.
Which meant it was my turn to get my own back, and I was already forming ideas.
“Ah, that’s the one,” he said when I revealed the final costume which was a Harlequin. The costume was comprised of a sleeved bodice of brightly colored diamonds which led into a short tunic and hose of the same pattern. Also in the same pattern were the knee-high boots. A black mask completed the ensemble. Actually, all the costumes came with masks on account of the celebration being of a masquerade theme. The Harlequin costume was certainly sexy, but in a more understated and less flesh-baring way than everything else Nicolo had me try on. It was my least favorite.
“Gauthier, you will excuse us and wait in the hall,” Nicolo said as he faced the older man. “I should know how my squire likes my decision in private.”
“Yes, of course,” Gauthier said with a quick bow as he escorted himself out.
Then Nicolo turned to face me. “Well, squire, what say you?”
“It’s very nice, sir,” I answered dutifully. “Thank you, Master.”
“A pleasant morning.” Nicolo subtly adjusted the front of his tunic as he stood. “I know how much women enjoy trying on clothes. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
I smiled at him. “Not as much as you did…sir.”
Sometimes it was hard to read Nicolo’s expression when he looked at me, and now was one of those moments. Neither of us said anything for the count of five heartbeats, but when Nicolo spoke, his voice was deep, low and guttural.
“Balduin says I should beat you to get some of that pertness out of you.”
“And you?” I asked, looking up at him from under my long eyelashes. “Do you believe you should beat me, sir?”
He narrowed his eyes and studied me for a few more seconds. “You say ‘sir’, but you do not mean it.” His eyes further narrowed as that insufferable smile took hold of his lips again. “And, yet, for the life of me, I can’t seem to find it within myself to care.”
“Then you do not wish for me to call you ‘sir’?”
“You will continue to refer to me as is fitting to my rank,” he answered, frowning.
“Very good, sir.” I smiled up at him. “And as to the subject of the prince believing you should beat me?”
He breathed in deeply and then shook his head. “For now I find you amusing. Though I do wonder how far you can push my good humor.”
On the night of the Masque, we both would find out.
