Devil's Daughter (22 page)

She stared at him, not comprehending.

“Cease your playacting,” he roared at her.

“Oh,” she said suddenly, remembering Adam’s words. “You mean the pox.”

“Yes, the pox.”

“What is it?”

“Enough.” He stretched out his long legs toward her. “Come, slave, and remove my boots. I grow tired of both your foolish pride and your lies.”

“The only thing I would remove is your black heart.” She grabbed the knife and scrambled to her feet.

Kamal did not move. He looked at her eyes and saw naked fear, despite her show of bravado. He rose slowly, unwilling to frighten her more. “Give me the knife,” he said, and held out his hand toward her.

Arabella shook her head, beyond words.

He frowned at someone behind her and shook his head. Arabella whirled about. In the next instant, her wrist was twisted back and the knife fell from her fingers to the carpet. He had tricked her so very easily. The grip on her wrist eased.

“Now why don’t you become the soft, pleading woman,” he said. “I will go easy with you, if you prettily beg my pardon and admit to your lies.”

He could not see her face, for her head was bowed. “You search for gentle words, my lady?” He slid his hands up her arms, drawing her closer to him. “I am accounted a good lover, and since you are no blushing innocent, I expect you to do more than spread your legs for me. It will pass the time until your father arrives.”

She flung herself at him, striking her fists at his face, kicking at his legs. She felt his arm go around her,
choking off her breath, but still she fought him. She kicked him in the shin and his hold eased.

Her fingers closed about her heavy silver wine goblet and she brought it against his head with all her strength. She heard the satisfying thud. In the next instant she was on her back on the carpet.

Kamal shook away the pain from his temple. He held himself away from her, knowing if he touched her he would likely break her neck. She was staring up at him, and he knew that she expected to die, that she had known he would kill her when she attacked him. Her jacket was ripped and he saw the white flesh of her breast. He also saw the marks from his fingers on her upper arms. She bruises easily, he thought.

He took a step toward her.

“Stop. Stay away from me.” Arabella scrambled among the cushions until her back was pressed against the wall.

No woman had ever fought him; indeed, with many European women, he had sometimes felt as though he were the one being used for their pleasure. Why did this girl fight him when she had given her favors so freely to other men?

It angered him beyond reason. He moved so quickly that Arabella’s screams were stuck in her throat. He pulled her to her feet and threw her over his shoulder.

He moved his fingers over her, knowing that to her it was the most effective punishment. She struggled, but to no avail. He carried her into his bedchamber and dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor.

“You act like an ill-broken mare,” he said, standing above her. “I will treat you like one.” He pulled off the
leather belt at his waist, seized her hands, and bound them together.

He retrieved another leather belt, tied it to the one about her wrists, and jerked her toward the bed. She was screaming at him in English, a whore’s curses, he thought, not slowing.

He secured the length of the belt to the bedpost and stepped back from her. She lay on her back, her arms drawn upward.

He started to tell her that she would spend the night on the floor, but held himself silent. Let her wonder.

Arabella watched him shrug off the white shirt. When his hands went to the buttons on his white trousers, she closed her eyes. And waited. She heard his boots hit the floor. She tugged at the belt wrapped around her wrists, but could not ease them. She felt his presence very near her, but would not look at him.

Kamal checked to see that the belts were secure. He started to touch her, but pulled back his hand. Her hair fell about her face and down her back. He wished she were not so lovely.

Arabella heard the bed give under his weight. She opened her eyes, but could see nothing, for the chamber was dark. She passed the next hour tugging at the leather with her teeth, half her attention on the man in the bed.

Finally she fell into an exhausted sleep. She did not hear him rise, nor did she feel the weight of the blanket he tossed over her.

“W
ake up, lady.”

Arabella felt a hand on her shoulder and jerked upright, a cry of pain on her lips because of her numb wrists. She stared into the black eyes of a young man she had seen the previous night. She looked frantically around for Kamal, but the chamber was empty save for the two of them.

Who are you?” she whispered as he unfastened her bonds.

“Ali, lady. My master said to release you and take you back to the harem.”

Arabella rubbed her aching wrists and slowly rose to her feet. “Where is your master?”

“With his soldiers. He enjoys training with them.” Ali studied the girl who had spent the night tied to his master’s bed. The welts on her wrists were black and purple.

“I hope,” Arabella said, “that someone runs a sword through him.”

Ali drew back, no pity for her now. “A worthless woman does not speak of his highness like that. You are lucky he didn’t kill you.”

Arabella sighed. “I am too valuable to be so lightly discarded,” she said. And she realized that it was true.
If she were dead, the contessa and her son would have no bait to lure her father to Algiers. She knew too that her father would verify that she still lived before he came. Then come he would.

“No woman is that valuable,” Ali said.

“I’m hungry,” Arabella said.

Raj stood at the gate to the harem, waiting for her. He spoke quietly to Ali in Arabic, then dismissed the boy. “Come, my lady,” he said. “Lena will bind your wrists.”

Arabella followed the huge eunuch into the harem garden. It was still early in the morning and few of Kamal’s concubines were up and about. Those who were, stared at her and whispered to each other behind their hands.

“How many girls does that perverted jackal keep prisoner here?”

“There are twenty girls presently in his highness’s harem,” Raj replied, not pretending to misunderstand her.

Arabella wondered for one insane moment if she could get all the girls together and foment a revolt. She laughed aloud at the thought.

“His highness did not touch you,” Raj said, eyeing her.

“No, I would not allow him to.”

Raj shook his bald head. “If he had wished to take you, my lady, there would be no one to stop him. You least of all.”

“I angered him.”

“And it got you nothing, save bruised and numb wrists.”

“He cannot kill me,” she said. “You know that he cannot. My father is not a fool.”

“No, your father is anything but a fool, my lady.”

Arabella looked at him sharply. “You know my father?”

“No, but I have seen him, and you, my lady, with your black eyes and eyebrows, have the look of him.” He saw that she would question him further and said abruptly, “No, my lady. I encourage you to accept your fate. There is nothing else you can do.”

My fate.
Was her fate to be raped by that animal Kamal? To lie in his bed until he had her father? And her mother?

Arabella looked up to see Lena, her brow furrowed with concern.

“See to your mistress,” Raj said, and left them.

Lena rubbed Arabella’s wrists with a soothing cream and bandaged them, clucking over her while she ate her breakfast of soft, flat pita bread, fresh oranges, and pomegranate juice. She spent the next hours in the bath, and her hair was again washed, her body massaged with a jasmine cream. She was scarce aware of the chattering Lena or the harem girls who drew close to see her. Did Adam know what had happened to her? If he did know, what would he do? She shot a deadly smile toward a beautiful oleander tree. She hoped he would draw and quarter the contessa.

After a lunch of cold shrimp and rice, Lena left her alone to nap. To Arabella’s surprise, sleep came quickly, but her dreams were violent and steeped in darkness.

She awoke heavy-eyed and frightened. She forced herself to leave her small chamber and stroll into the harem garden. The fragrance from the flowers soothed
her somewhat, and she lay down in the sun near the pool.

“Well, daughter of a witch.”

Arabella opened her eyes and smiled up at Elena.

“I hear you are such a bitch that the master tied you to his bed.”

“That is correct.”

“He will ask for me tonight, and you will stay in your chamber and rot.”

“I hope that he will ask for you, Elena. I would like to be left to rot.”

Elena eyed the English girl in frustration. Would nothing pierce her white hide? She could not believe that the girl did not want the master. Every girl in the harem wanted to gain his attention. “Where did you learn to speak Italian? You are English.”

“I grew up in Genoa. At least, I spent about half of each year there.”

“Ah,” Elena said suddenly, her beautiful mouth curving into a vicious smile. “I understand you now, English cow. You know that the master can have any woman he wishes. You are only pretending that you do not want him.”

“Elena,” Arabella said patiently, sitting up, “do you not want to be free? Do you not want to make your own decisions? Decide your own fate?”

“What do you mean?” Elena asked, her voice heavy with suspicion.

“I mean that no one—man or woman—should be forced to serve another. It is not right.” Arabella looked around at the beautiful gardens and the graceful arched building. A calm, serene prison, but a prison
nonetheless. “This is your world. It is quite small, you know. And it is even guarded.”

“You are crazy,” Elena said. “When the master takes me to wive, I will have you killed.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

Arabella stared after her for a moment, then lay back and closed her eyes against the afternoon sun.

“You must forgive Elena,” came a gentle voice. “If she has not Kamal, she has nothing.”

Arabella opened her eyes. The woman who had spoken stood above her, her belly swollen mightily with child. Kamal’s child? “Who are you?”

“I am Lella. I wished to speak to the woman who managed to anger Kamal.” She spoke in very slow, precise Italian.

Arabella swung her legs over the edge of the chaise and sat up. “Please sit down. It is hot and your burden is heavy.”

Lella nodded and eased herself down beside Arabella. “You are English, child?”

“Child?” Arabella smiled. “You are scarce older than I.”

“I am nearly twenty-five, and carrying this babe makes me feel like a graceless old woman.”

Arabella shook her head. “You’re beautiful,” she said. Lella’s thick dark brown hair glistened with amber light, and her heart-shaped face was classical in its perfection. Her gray eyes were warm and intelligent.

“I had thought you would be kind. Is it true that you angered Kamal so that he tied you to his bed?”

“I was relieved to be tied to his bed and not be in it,” Arabella said. She paused, then tilted her chin
upward. “I am sorry if you carry his child and are perhaps fond of him, but—”

Lella gurgled with laughter. “Yes, I am fond of him,” she said at last, clasping her hands over her huge belly. “It is not his child I carry.”

Arabella frowned at her.

“Kamal is my brother-in-law,” Lella said. “My husband was Hamil.” Her voice broke on his name, and she whispered, “He did not even know I was with child when he died.”

“I’m sorry. Forgive me for wounding you. It is just that I do not know what to do, and my helplessness makes me a witch.”

Lella patted her hand. “You are not a witch. Indeed, it was a witch who sent you here. Kamal’s mother is a woman who knows only bitterness and hate. Kamal is not like her.”

“Ha! He has treated me with contempt, called me a liar and a harlot, accused my parents of the most ridiculous crimes, and you tell me he is not like his mother.”

“My, I would like to have seen that,” Lella said, admiration in her voice. “Kamal is usually so kind, particularly to women, and so exquisitely calm. What did you say to him to spend your night tied to his bed?”

“Perhaps I was not wise but he angered me so. I called him an animal, a barbarian, a savage—”

Lella held up her hand in horror. “No more. My dear child, you are fortunate not to be dead.”

Arabella shrugged. “As to that, he cannot kill me. I am bait, and bait must be live to be useful. And if my anger keeps him from ravishing me, I shall become a demon from hell.”

“But I have heard that you, well, that you are no maid.”

“Another of his mother’s lies. Lella, is there anything you can do to help me?”

“No, child, I am truly sorry. Were it not for Kamal, I would even now be shut away, or worse, sold months ago. Carrying Hamil’s child made me particularly vulnerable to his enemies. But Kamal would not allow his mother to treat me with other than honor. Perhaps you can speak to him more reasonably, convince him of your innocence, at least. If you ceased to antagonize him, were perhaps kind, he would likely listen to you.”

It was on the tip of Arabella’s tongue to tell Lella that she would as soon be kind to the devil himself, but an idea came to her, one so simple, one so final, that she could not disregard it. She accepted it, knowing there was no other way. Suddenly she felt calm and serene. “Perhaps you are right, Lella,” she said at last.

Lella stared at her doubtfully, disliking the cold calmness in her voice. She said slowly, not realizing that she was planting seeds of action in Arabella’s mind. “As I said, Kamal is not a vicious man. Indeed, you are so lovely, he could not long be angered if you behaved more like . . . well . . . like a . . .”

“A soft, submissive woman?”

“Yes. You are, after all, a woman.”

“And women play roles, do they not?”

“I am not certain what you mean. My Italian is not so fluent as yours.”

“It matters not. Oh dear, here comes Elena again. Has she nothing else to do besides attack me?”

“She fears you.” Lella rose ponderously. “We will
speak again, child. I will take care of Elena, at least for now.”

Arabella watched Lella draw Elena into conversation, and true to her word, the two women disappeared into her chamber.

Kamal stood naked as Ali sluiced him with cool water. He flexed his tired muscles and tried to focus his thoughts on anything but the English girl. He had lain awake for hours listening to her breathing the previous night, wondering what he was going to do with her. Actually, he really did not have to do anything with her, simply wait until her father came for her; but at that thought, he shook his head. He wanted her; he wanted her to cease fighting him and cease lying. He wanted her to look at him with desire, not fear or hatred.

“What did you say, Ali?” he asked, realizing that he wasn’t listening.

“I wondered, master, if you wished Orna to dance for you this evening?”

“No—yes.” Kamal smiled to himself. Orna would dance for him and for the stubborn English girl. “And, Ali, tell Raj that I want the English girl again tonight.”

Arabella was waiting for Raj to come with a summons from Kamal; indeed, she was looking forward to it. When he appeared, a worried frown on his fleshy face, she smiled, a soft smile.

“His highness wishes your company this evening,” he said.

Arabella lowered her head. “As he wishes,” she said.

“I have brought you new clothes.”

“That is very kind of you, Raj. May I see them?”

Arabella fingered the gossamer trousers and the yellow jacket. There were matching yellow leather slippers. “They are beautiful.”

Raj frowned, but said smoothly, “I selected the colors. You will look lovely.”

Arabella said, “Yes, you chose well. I thank you.”

“Are you well, my lady?”

“Yes, of course.” She allowed a deep sigh and stared beyond his massive shoulder toward a point unseen. “I have been thinking today. You told me to accept my fate. Perhaps that is what I have done.”

“You wish to be with his highness?”

“Why not? Lella told me he is not a barbarian. If I am more understanding, perhaps he will be also.”

“His highness will be surprised.”

“But pleased, Raj?” she asked. “Will he be pleased?”

“Undoubtedly,” the eunuch said.

He left her then to dress. When he returned for her, she was standing in the doorway gazing out over the garden. She looked utterly beautiful, her golden hair flowing free down her back, her body outlined clearly through the trousers.

“Do you still feel as you did, my lady?”

She smiled slowly, but her eyes were infinitely sad. “Yes, certainly. It is just that—” She raised her hand in a small gesture, then dropped it to her side.

“What troubles you, my lady?”

Arabella looked down at herself. “I am used to showing myself to advantage, Raj.”

He eyed her full breasts straining against the soft material. “I see no flaw in your beauty, my lady.”

“It is probably nothing,” she said. “I just wish for a jewel, a brooch perhaps to make me more elegant.”