"Hayat."
"You may enter." Fearing Guy might glimpseher nakedness, Leila remained in the comer untilHayatclosed the door and stepped further into the room,thenshe asked her in Arabic, "Is he still out there?"
"Yes, my lady—"
"Not English. Please, speak to me in your nativetongue," Leila insisted, walking into the light where the slave girl couldsee her.
Hayatnodded solemnly,watching Leila with big, dark eyes. "If you wish, mistress. Have youfinished your bath? "
"Yes." Leila sighed, sensing she wouldreceive no help from this small slave.Hayat'sadmiration for Guy was written all over her young face, and the girl hadpractically glowed with adoration at that wretched tavern. What was it about asword-wielding, long-haired barbarian that could set a young girl's heart tofluttering? It was beyond Leila's understanding.
"Lord deWarennesaidyou must dress quickly, mistress,"Hayatmurmured, setting the pitcher and basin on the floor and lifting the lid of theclothes chest. "The wagon will be here soon to take you to the ship."
"I'll dress as slowly as a tortoise if I please,Lord deWarenneand his shipbe damned!"
Hayatgasped but kept abouther work, pulling several long garments from the chest. Her voice sounded veryshy as she said, "Lord deWarenneasked me totell you that another of his favored pastimes is watching a woman dress,mistress."
Leila gasped, shocked that he would order a child tosay such a thing, yet she took this latest threat to heart. She grabbed theclothesHayatheld out to her, her expression baffledas she examined them.
"What are these?" she demanded, holding up apair of gray silk stockings.
"Hose, mistress. Please, sit upon the bed and I'llshow you."
Leila reluctantly sat down and watched as the slavegirl deftly drew the stockings over her legs and secured them above her kneeswith matching silk ties. She turned her left leg to one side and then theother, scrutinizing the strange casings. She decided she didn't like hose atall.
"I will not wear them!" Leila declared justas the door was cracked and Guy's deep voice startled her.
"Another outburst, my lady, whether in Arabic orEnglish, and I will finishHayat'stask myself. In afew moments I will open this door, and I shall expect to see you dressed as atrue English lady."
The door slammed shut again, and Leila's face turned aswhite as the bed sheets she had grabbed to cover herself. She released them androseshakily, her lips drawn tightly together, sayingnot a word asHayathanded her each mysteriousarticle of clothing.
"Achainse, my lady.Your undergarment."
Leila slipped the thin linen shift over her head, herfingers touching raised embroidery as she smoothed the low rounded neckline. "Whereare thesirwal?" she asked, feeling the bottomhem of thechainsebrush her toes.
"Nosirwal, mistress.There are no pants at all."
"Savages," Leila muttered, shocked. That shewas to go about with no covering for her lower body was too indecent toconsider.
"Your kirtle, my lady."
Leila felt numb as she drew on the sky-blue silk gown.Hayat'shands expertly smoothed the rippling folds whichalso fell to the floor,thenthe slave girl adjustedthe long fitted sleeves and simple collar, saying in a hushed voice, "Ah,how beautiful you are, mistress. Lord deWarennewillbe pleased."
Leila did not waste any breath responding to that lastcomment. She didn't care twowhitsif the crusaderwas pleased! What about her? She wanted to wear the clothes to which she wasaccustomed. She wanted her family, her home!
She watched stonily asHayatmoved behind her and wrapped a girdle embroidered with silver thread around herslender waist. The girl crossed the flat belt in back and then brought the long,tasseled silk plait attached to each end forward to below her hips, where theywere knotted and left to dangle down the front of her gown.
"Your slippers, mistress,"Hayatsaid, rushing back from thechestand setting the leather footwear on the carpet before her.
Leila slid them on, deciding the buttery soft slipperswere the only comfortable thing she was wearing. She felt trussed up andsmothered by her foreign garments, regardless of the silk gown's light weight.
"If you would kindly sit again, mistress, so I maybrush your hair."
"I can do that myself," Leila snapped, butquickly regretted her harsh tone at the slave girl's hurt expression. None ofher misfortune was this child's doing, she chided herself. "Why don't wedo this?" she suggested more kindly. "After I brush my hair, you maybraid it if you'd like."
Hayatbobbed her head, asmall smile on her lips. She watched enrapt as Leila quickly worked through thetangles and then brushed out her long hair until it shone.
"Have you never cut it?" the slave girl askedcuriously, tentatively touching a silky strand.
