Devil's Daughter (23 page)

He had not thought her vain, nor had he believed her capable of thinking herself anything less than a great lady, no matter her circumstance or costume.

“I should feel more confident in myself had I something to wear that reminded me of happier times.”

Still he remained uncertain, until she raised her eyes to his face. No one, he thought, could remain indifferent to those fathomless eyes. The master would be pleased were the girl to smile. Raj nodded. “I will bring you something. Wait here.”

“So,” Elena said, stepping out of the shadows, “you play games to be with the master.”

Arabella said nothing.

“He will tire of you, and quickly. You are cold and he will find no warmth between your skinny legs.”

“You are probably right,” Arabella said. “Perhaps his highness will desire something quite different after tonight.”

Elena snarled in frustration, and beat a hasty retreat when Raj approached.

“This should brighten your spirits, my lady,” he said, and to Arabella’s utter chagrin, he slipped a sapphire-and-diamond necklace over her head. She wanted to laugh aloud and howl at the same time at the failure of her plan. She tried to tell herself that a brooch clasp probably wouldn’t have been strong enough for the task. She managed a smile. “It is beautiful, Raj. I thank you.”

He nodded. “Come, my lady.”

She followed him silently, thinking furiously. She had to do something. Raj’s chambers. She gazed at him through her lashes, waiting until they had nearly reached the harem gates.

“Raj?”

He turned somewhat impatiently to face her. “My lady?”

“I must—that is, I have to—” She managed a flush of embarrassment and lowered her head.

“I see,” he said, smiling slightly. “I will await you here, my lady.”

Arabella dashed back toward the harem suites. Before she veered away from her own small room, she glanced back toward Raj. To her profound relief, he was in close conversation with one of the girls. She slipped into the outer chamber that Raj used for his sitting room. She saw a small writing desk and hurried toward it.

She rejoined Raj some minutes later.

She followed him docilely from the harem compound to the palace. The air was warm and perfumed from the profusion of flowers. A full moon lit the night sky. She felt her heart begin to thud as they neared Kamal’s chambers. Please, she prayed silently, give me strength to do what I must.

She heard music as they neared, barbaric sounds, she thought.

Kamal reclined on cushions, his eyes on a dancing girl. He was dressed in pristine white, a wide crimson leather belt around his waist. His head was bare and his streaked wheat-colored hair gleamed in the candlelight. He raised his eyes from the dancing girl when he saw Arabella. He saw no anger on her beautiful face. She looked calm, accepting.

He frowned as he said crisply, “Here, girl. We will enjoy the entertainment while we dine.”

Arabella briefly met Raj’s eyes, and her own held a
hint of—apology? “Thank you, Raj,” she said, and quickly left his side.

She lowered herself onto the cushions beside Kamal.

To her chagrin, her stomach growled.

Kamal smiled at her bowed head. “Here, you may eat while you watch Orna.”

She accepted the flaky pastry filled with small chunks of lamb, peppers, and rice. It was delicious and gone quickly.

“You are too thin. Here, have another.”

She ate the second slowly, her eyes on the dancing girl. The music increased in volume and tempo. The girl was covered from head to toe in sheer silk veils. As she whirled about to the sound of the clashing cymbals, one of the veils floated to the floor. For a moment Arabella felt herself drawn into the frenetic, savage music and the movements of the dancer. The veils billowed around her body. Arabella gulped. The girl would soon be naked.

“Does Orna’s performance please you?” Kamal asked, watching her widened eyes.

“It is unusual.”

“Do you dance?”

“Not like that.”

“Ah, yes. The minuet, the cotillion. They are enjoyable enough, I suppose.”

Orna was whirling faster and faster, dipping backward, then tossing her long brown hair. The last veil fell to the floor, but still she moved to the music, now slow and sensuous. She moved closer to Kamal, the small cymbals fastened to her fingers beating a primitive rhythm. She was so close, Arabella could see the sheen of sweat on her smooth belly. She leaned back,
thrusting her hips forward. Arabella’s wine goblet trembled in her hand and wine fell to the white cloth.

Kamal nodded and the music stopped. “She is talented, is she not?” he asked, looking at Arabella’s whitened face.

Arabella was too embarrassed to say anything. The girl hadn’t moved and was so close that Arabella could see clearly the damp profusion of brown curls between her thighs.

“I think you would look equally lovely in such a position.”

He was baiting her, she thought, and forced herself to keep quiet. She picked up another pastry and slowly bit into it, as if it were the only object that interested her.

Kamal laughed softly, and clapped his hands. The girl, to Arabella’s immense fury, fell forward on her knees and kissed Kamal’s boot. It took all her control not to fling the wine in his face and then smash the goblet against his head.

He nodded and the girl backed from the chamber. The musicians had already faded away. They were alone.

Kamal began to eat. “You are silent, Arabella,” he said.

“More pensive, perhaps, highness.”

“Pensive? Were you not well-treated today?”

“Oh yes. I suppose I was lonely.”

Kamal frowned ferociously at her bowed head. He could not see her face, for her silky hair fell like a veil, obscuring it. “Lonely?”

She raised her head. “I am but a woman, highness. My happiness cannot be found within myself. I am fashioned differently.”

He felt a perverse stab of disappointment. She was
behaving just as he had hoped she would: docile, pliant, and submissive to him. “You are fashioned for my love, Arabella. You are fashioned to receive me as my scabbard does my sword.”

She colored charmingly, and he lightly touched his fingers to her bare arm. She did not draw away but what she thought was that if he said something so stupid again, she would surely vomit on his boots. “Do you want to receive me, Arabella? As a man and as your master?”

“You will not hurt me?”

“Hurt you, my little flower? There is only brief pain, and that only when a woman is a maid. After, there is only pleasure. Have you not found that to be true?”

She nodded, her eyes on his strong fingers. They were rough against her soft skin.

“Ah, I see you make no more protestations. I am pleased.” But he wasn’t pleased. He knew a moment of fierce anger. The girl was like the rest, perhaps only more intelligent. She had toyed with him until she had gained his interest. Now he could have her. He was annoyed that he had been such a fool. Allah, he could have taken her the night before and she would have readily yielded to him. It had been all a sham.

“Stand up.”

Arabella locked her knees and rose to stand above him. She felt his eyes traveling over her body, thoroughly and intimately. She caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“Take off your clothes.”

Her eyes flew to his face. His blue eyes studied her, and she felt for a brief moment that he could see into
her mind. She quickly lowered her head. “Will you not help me, master?”

He laughed, and the sound made her want to shriek. He thought he had won, and he was enjoying her humiliation. She stood quietly, not daring to look again at him.

Kamal rose gracefully. He clasped his hands about her shoulders and slowly drew her to him. “Kiss me, Arabella,” he said.

She raised her face and rose to her tiptoes. She felt his mouth lightly touch hers. He tasted sweet, of oranges and wine. She felt his tongue softly glide over her lips, then gently probe until hers parted. To her shock, Arabella felt a surge of tingling warmth deep within her belly. No, her mind cried, and she stiffened. He tightened his hold on her and she felt his hands moving upward from her waist, over her bare ribs to her breasts. The only feeling she knew now was raw fear. His mouth was punishing now, and she hated his tongue probing into her.

“Please,” she whispered, and pulled back.

Kamal studied her flushed face. “What bothers you, little flower?” He had felt her reaction to him and sought to bend her completely to his will.

“I wish to feel your flesh against mine.”

He felt a surge of lust at her words, but remnants of reason warred in his mind. “Why have you changed toward me?”

“I desire you. Do you not want me?”

“Yes,” he said, and quickly untied the leather sash at his waist. His white shirt quickly followed, and he faced her, naked to the waist.

Arabella probed at the small buttons on her jacket.
She felt his hands on her breasts, caressing her through the cloth. Her hand slipped slowly to the band of her harem trousers. Slowly, very slowly, forcing herself to lean against him, she grasped the slender dagger.

“Savage! Animal!” She raised the dagger, and struck at him. He jerked away so quickly that the sharp point sliced across his shoulder and did not plunge deeply into his flesh. Arabella gazed a moment at the long jagged cut, oozing blood, furious with herself that she had not thrust it deep into his heart.

Kamal lurched back and stared at her. He was tempted to laugh at himself, for he had been naught but a fool, a gullible fool. He felt his blood streaking down his chest. He had no further time for thought, for she lunged at him again. He struck her outstretched arm and she staggered backward.

“I’ll kill you, you bastard.” She was crouched forward, moving closer toward him, the dagger held tightly in her hand. “I’ll kill you.”

She rushed him and he quickly sidestepped. He caught her wrist, feeling the delicate bones crunching beneath his fingers. She was crying, and screaming at him in frustration. He tightened his grip until the dagger flew from her hand to the floor.

They faced each other, panting.

Tears of rage streamed down Arabella’s face. She threw herself at him, pounding her fists against his chest, kicking out at his legs.

He pulled her tightly against him and she felt his blood seep through her jacket to her skin. He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her head back.

He stared down into her distraught face and laughed.

“I hope your blood is poisoned. Next time my aim will be true.”

He tightened his hold on her, knowing that he was crushing her ribs, but she made no sound, no plea.

“There will be no next time, my lady.” He considered taking her now, ripping off her clothes and throwing her to the floor. He saw his blood smeared over her breast, and laughed again at his own stupidity. He grasped her arm and dragged her into his bedchamber. He looked only briefly at her bruised wrists before binding them. She struggled wildly, cursing him, but he finished tying her. He stood over her, staring down at her.

“Sleep well, little flower,” he said, and turned to walk away. Her yells of rage followed him.

Arabella’s breathing slowly calmed. She had not harmed him greatly, and for a moment she wondered if, in her heart, she had wanted her aim to be true. Was she so weak that she was unwilling to sacrifice herself to save her parents? Had she killed him, her death would have been assured. She lowered her head against her arms and cried. Would Raj be punished since it was his dagger she had taken? She did not want the big eunuch to suffer for her.

The time stretched endlessly, and the lone candle guttered. Still she stared toward the doorway, wondering what Kamal was doing. She shivered. Would he return and rape her, and perhaps, after he had finished with her, give her to his soldiers? Suddenly she laughed. So very foolish she had been, so full of vain bravado. She could have remained safe, even in Naples, if she hadn’t been such a silly fool, certain of her own ability to take care of herself.

She saw Kamal silhouetted in the doorway. There were no soldiers with him.

“I know you are not asleep, Arabella,” he said. He strode over to her and sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at her.

She said nothing.

“Are you so afraid of me that you pretend sleep?”

“I am not afraid of such as you.”

“No, I do not think you are.” She saw him flex his white-bandaged shoulder. “But perhaps you should be.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, raising her face to his. “I hope your pain is so great you weep and moan with it.”

To her surprise, he laughed. He leaned toward her and grasped her chin in his hand. Before she could jerk away from him, he kissed her hard on her mouth, then released her.

“Now you are afraid, are you not?”

“No,” she said, but her voice shook. She was completely helpless, and she knew it. To her unutterable relief, he stretched out on his bed and turned on his side, away from her.

“Please do not hurt Raj,” she said after a while. “He did not know what I intended.”