Katherine stood outside the window of the oddity shop and peered past the black brocade drapes swept aside with maroon tassels. Usually she passed the shop without a glance. She'd heard the rumors regarding the curiosities displayed inside and the peculiar shopkeeper who had arrived with his bizarre collection less than a month ago. All decent women, when alone, hurried past the shop with their eyes averted and their lips curled in disgust. Only groups of giggling, blushing ladies who felt protected by their number, or women with less than perfect reputations, ventured through the door, past the tinkling silver wind chimes, and into the forbidden realm of occult articles, sordid novels, spell books, and antique trinkets.

Most of the local men visited the shop weekly, as much for the imported cigars and tobacco than for the collection of erotic art books or foreign pieces of clothing and accessories which they imagined their wives and mistresses wearing. Silky pantaloons, beaded braziers, and veils every color of the rainbow aroused their desire.

They patronized his shop, but it was not a secret that the men despised the shopkeeper. Katherine knew why.

Working at the town's only dress shop enabled her to overhear conversations from nearly every female resident. The more money, wealth, and power a woman inherited or married, the more she enjoyed raking through the lives and misfortunes of others.

Katherine knew their viciousness personally, having been the focus of many sneering conversations that ceased when she stepped onto the shop floor. With no family and only a small inheritance from her father, Katherine was considered scarcely a step above those women with "less than perfect reputations." Maybe it was because she had turned down offers of marriage from the only two men in town who would have her: the owner of the fish market and the local blacksmith. Perhaps it was because her silky black hair, angelic face, and alluring figure tempted the darkest desires of most men and incited the women to gossip about her, though they had little to say regarding her virtue. She might not have wealth or name, but she was decent and upstanding. She kept to herself in her rented room above the dress shop and attended mass every Sunday.

Leaning closer to the window, she stared at the macabre display of black marble angels and white marble demons surrounding the miniature graveyard set on dark green velvet. Each of the tiny headstones had been formed of clay and glazed silver. Upon every one were names, dates, and epitaphs painted in slender black lines of calligraphy.

A horse whinnied across the dusty street. Katherine glanced over her shoulder, knowing that peering through the shop window could cause scandal, but at that moment she didn't care. The miniature cemetery was too fascinating. As her gaze drifted to the assortment of brightly painted cuckoo clocks displayed on one of the shop's walls, she gasped in surprise to find the shopkeeper staring at her, half hidden between the shadow of the spiral staircase and a dressmaker's mannequin draped in a velvet cloak. Her first impulse was to flee, but she felt compelled to see the man who aroused so much talk. Tall, slender, with auburn hair and pale, flawless skin, he exuded animal magnetism that sent Katherine's pulse racing. Such savage appeal was a startling contrast to the simple, elegant, black and white lines of his coat and trousers, but most intriguing of all were his wide-set eyes, the color of the Mediterranean. His finely-drawn lips curved into a slight smile, and he winked. Drawing a sharp breath, Katherine turned abruptly and hurried down the empty street toward the dress shop.