Chapter 5: Dinner with the Alpha

Fragrant soaps and oils fell over Desiree from head to toe before her body descended into a vat of hot water. A team of three washerwomen, old and slim with strong arms and no-nonsense attitudes worked her over. She held her breath to keep from laughing and squirming as they scrubbed her all over three times, fully concentrating on her ticklish underarms and feet before satisfied that the less ideal fragrance of the outdoors was gone.

Beyond her ticklish flesh, her thick dark hair seemed to be the biggest struggle the washerwomen faced. Twisted from root to tip since childhood, it fell past the middle of her back and had no give for straightening or taming.

At the end of the washing regimen, she was buffed with towels so soft she imagined they’d been made of threads weaved from clouds by the moon goddess herself. Sufficiently dried with her hair wrapped in towels, she was draped in a linen chemise before being seated in front of a dressing table with a large mirror and left in the care of a young house servant who set to the task of blotting her twists dry.

She suddenly came face-to-face with a clear and large as life image of herself in the mirror, a reflection that she hadn’t truly been privy to for a very long time. She looked pale and smaller than she’d imagined herself, perhaps being dwarfed by the large heirloom furniture that surrounded her. But, in the crystal clear reflection of her eyes, she could see the sweet spirit of her mother looking back at her.

Overcome by emotions, she rested her head in her palms and began to cry. Rarely did she give herself space to grieve her losses.

“Don’t cry, Miss Desiree,” the young woman pleaded as she placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “You will have a very nice life here in the mansion. Ms. Silvia is harsh, but she is fair and only wants the best for the Blackstone name. Her family has worked for the Blackstones for generations.

Desiree was glad the young woman had misinterpreted her sorrow. “Ms. Silvia does not want me here.” She’d already surmised from the woman’s brash introduction.

“Only because you have a talent that has the eye of the new alpha. She has been trying to impress him since he took the title. She was more or less his father’s favorite. And his brothers liked her…”

The girl fell silent at the mention of the father and sons who had been lost at sea two months ago and presumed dead. She may fear you are here to replace her. But she should know better. Blackstones are loyal, and she has cemented her place here as head seamstress. Everyone that stitches under her direction is subject to harsh words, but the results are always the talk of every season.”

“I just stitch quilts,” Desiree shrugged thinking about the immaculately dressed mannequins in the seamstress hall and the stellar clothes Declan and Malcolm wore in his council chambers. “Silvia has nothing to fear from me.”

The young woman patted her shoulder and went back to work blotting the water from her hair.

Desiree’s eyes turned to the mirror in front of her and fell to the reflection of the dress they’d taken off of her. Silvia had threatened to burn it, but Desiree had issued a threat of violence. Silvia had then ordered for it to be cleaned and pressed. Desiree noted that it was laid across the foot of a four-poster bed next to her mother’s jewelry box.

She jumped from the dressing table to clutch the box in her arms. It was the only thing she had of her mother and she feared it was gone forever. She also noted the sound of coins inside and that it was just as heavy as the last time she lifted it. Placing the box on the dressing table she opened it to find her money still inside. Along with a note sealed in red wax with the Blackstone emblem.

A rapid knock on the door was followed by Silvia’s uninvited entry. Desiree quickly closed the box and faced the woman.

“Well, at least you smell better,” she commented as a team of servants entered carrying six dresses to put in a wardrobe placed along the far wall of the room. A seventh one was draped over a mannequin just to the side of the wardrobe. “For dinner,” Silvia explained. “With the new alpha.”

Desiree walked to the mannequin that was a nearly perfect match of her size. The dress that draped around it was designed in silver and gold, much like her quilt pattern but there was a small detail in the pattern of the hemline that took her by surprise. A small but distinct patch of the Blackstone symbol. She looked at Silvia curiously. “You designed this?”

“The alpha requested it be made for you.”

Desiree allowed her eyes to travel over the sleeveless dress with a short bodice made of silk and lace cinched into an empire waist that released in delicate fabrics cascading to the floor. On the floor beneath the hemline, rested a pair of golden slippers.

***

As Desiree stepped into the dining room with dinner set in front of at least twenty guests. The males already seated stood to acknowledge her entrance. Her eyes traveled across the appreciative glances as a butler escorted her past them until she was seated at the head of the table on the corner just to the right of Declan. He seemed once again to avoid eye contact with her even as he formally introduced her to the guests at his table.

“Desiree Sweetkane, the quilter,” he stated the description in a way that seemed to convey a title. But, her heart faltered wishing the title could have been more.

She nodded in recognition of the introduction and as instructed by Sylvia said, “a pleasure to be here.”

‘Say nothing else unless spoken to,’ she recalled Silvia’s warning. ‘If we’re lucky this parade of you will be only for a few days and nights.’

“Sweetkane,” a male voice piped up from the opposite end of the table, “As in Randal Sweetkane?”

Desiree looked at the questioning man and wondered what he might know of her father. He was a large figure, almost equaling Declan. But where Declan was clean-cut and tailor dressed, this shifter’s hair fell in thick auburn locks past his shoulders and he wore a loose shirt that exposed the flesh of his smooth chest. His beard was days past needing a trim. When he smile in her direction she noted that several teeth were capped in silver.

“And Angela Sweetkane,” she answered. “My parents.”

“Blake Devlin,” the man introduced himself. “I met that rascal two summers ago. Was under the impression he only had one daughter.”

Desiree smiled and shrugged. “I’ve been away from home a long time.”

“Your pack used to produce the sugar cane and a famous blue dye.”

“Indigo,” Desiree corrected. “But that was way before my time.”

“Yes, I did acquire as few fabrics and finery with prints in that color from your father while I was there.”

“What a small world. I’m afraid it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the color myself,” Desiree admitted.

“If you like I can send for a few pieces I imagine your mother might have crafted them.”

Desiree was beyond touched by the offer as she lifted her appreciative gaze toward Blake. Other than her mother’s jewelry box, she had nothing that came from her home.

“I would love to see them,” she answered.

“So your gifts must be inherited,” a woman to his right inquired.

“Passed down from my mother,” Desiree explained and took note of nearly a dozen pair of eyes cast towards her. “She taught me to stitch when I was a little girl. As we fell on hard times, quilts kept us warm. When I came here, the skill became useful.”

“And now very profitable,” another guest added. “How did you end up here?”

Desiree drew in a deep breath to begin the uneasy answer.

“Alpha Waylon—"

“My father took her in roughly five years ago,” Declan answered for her. She clamped her mouth shut, looking to the alpha. She was grateful that she wouldn’t have to tell the exact truth.