Sheik (7 page)

“’Tis my wish that you serve my meal tonight, Zara,” Jamal said imperiously. “Hammet will take you to the kitchen.”

“Yes, master,” Zara said. Her sarcasm brought an involuntary smile to his face. “Shall I make my obeisance?”

“That would be refreshing.” His eyebrows shot upward in surprise when Zara bowed low with negligent grace, sending him a searing look that singed the air around him.

“You may rise,” Jamal said. His gaze slid over her slender form, settling on her breasts. “Your choice of costume pleases me.”

“I had no choice in the matter.”

“Why are you unveiled?”

“I hide my face from no one, man or woman.”

“You will in the future,” Jamal said as he summoned Hammet with a wave of his hand. “Take the slave to the kitchens, Hammet.”

Zara was more than happy to escape Jamal’s daunting presence. She returned a short time later bearing a tray laden with an array of tempting dishes. Jamal was alone. The old man brewing the tea had packed up his paraphernalia and left.

“You may go, Hammet,” Jamal said, waving the eunuch away. “Zara will see to my needs tonight.”

Zara set the tray on a side table and began placing separate dishes before Jamal. When she finished she stood back and waited to be dismissed.

“You may pour my tea,” Jamal said, motioning toward the silver teapot resting upon the brazier. Zara bit her lip to keep from flinging out a scathing insult. What she really wanted to do was drown Jamal’s smug smile in hot tea.

Jamal watched her every move, admiring the way her hips swayed beneath the transparent pantaloons. If he stared hard enough he could see her plump pink mound through the silken material. Beneath his caftan he felt his erection engorge with blood and thicken.

“Have you eaten?” Jamal asked as he sampled the succulent melon.

“I have eaten, thank you. May I leave now?”

“Nay, you may not. Sit here.” He patted the cushion beside him.

She eyed him warily. “Why?”

“I do not like to eat alone.” When Zara made no move to join him, Jamal grasped her wrist and pulled her down beside him. “There, that’s better.”

“Saha would love to join you. So would Leila or Amar.”

“Perhaps later. It’s you I want now. Is your room satisfactory?” he asked conversationally.

“It will do.”

Suddenly he pushed the food away and leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “I find I’m no longer hungry.”

“Shall I return the dishes to the kitchen?”

“I had no idea you’d be such an obedient slave, princess. What do you have up your sleeve?”

“Nothing, my lord,” she said sweetly. “I’m not even wearing sleeves.”

His black eyes glittered wickedly. “So I noticed.” His hand traveled the length of her bare arm and back, sending ripples skittering over her sensitive flesh. Two tiny pearl buttons held the edges of her abbreviated vest together, and before Zara could protest, Jamal had released them. Her breasts literally popped into his hands. His sudden intake of breath told her how much he enjoyed the view.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to seduce you, what else?” He pushed her back against the cushions and lowered his head to lick at her nipples. “You know I want you.”

“Take me against my will and you lose the wager,” she challenged, gritting her teeth against the sudden jolt of pleasure he had caused with his tongue.

“I never should have made that wager,” Jamal muttered sourly. He raised his head to stare at her mouth. It was adorably lush and red and he wanted to kiss her senseless. But most of all he wanted to sheath himself inside her, to feel her heat contract around him, to taste her passion, to give her pleasure.

“Feel how much I want you,” Jamal said, grasping her small hand and placing it upon his erection.

Zara inhaled sharply. His caftan provided a
scant barrier between her hand and the hot, pulsating length of him. Her fingers tightened involuntarily and she heard him groan. In seconds he had removed her hand and stretched out full length on top of her.

“You want me,” he said triumphantly.

“Nay, I do not.”

Her answer seemed to amuse him and he chuckled. “Open to me, Zara. Take me inside you. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

She sighed raggedly. “Nay, I cannot.”

His eyes turned dark with desire as his mouth crushed down on hers, kissing her fiercely, willing her to respond as he molded her breasts with his palms. His lips left her mouth and followed the graceful line of her throat to her breasts. He kissed and licked the perfumed flesh, the scent of jasmine heightening his desire for her. His mouth closed over an erect nipple, sucking hard on it, then biting down lightly, and she cried out softly.

“Yield to me, sweet
houri
,” Jamal whispered hoarsely.

“I cannot lose the wager,” Zara replied in a strangled voice. She was aroused, painfully so, but losing the wager and remaining Jamal’s slave was abhorrent to her.

“Forget the wager,” he said fiercely. “You are my possession. Give to me. Let me taste your passion.”

“You are demanding more than I can give. You’re asking for my soul,” Zara declared passionately.

“Nay, I want only your body,” Jamal denied.

His words sounded flat and without substance.
In truth he wanted much more from the Berber princess. He wanted her body, her soul, her joys, her sorrows. He wanted to possess her very essence, to give her his in return. When he thrust into her tight sheath he wanted her to forget any past lovers and cling to him in sweet passion.

Allah help him. He wanted her so desperately his concubines held no appeal for him.

That terrifying thought made him pull away and stare at her. What had Zara done to him? She had turned him into a eunuch; he wanted only one woman. Zara. What in the blessed name of Allah was he going to do? He could force her and lose his wager.
And lose her forever
. Or he could continue his seduction, which seemed to be failing.

“You have bewitched me,” he said harshly. “Leave me! Return to the harem. I need to think.”

Zara scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward the door.

“On second thought,” Jamal said thickly, “send Saha to me. Perhaps she can quench the fire you have started.”

Zara turned and raced from the room, her cheeks burning. Let him vent his lust with Saha, she thought dully. Let the redhead pleasure him all night long; she didn’t care. But for some obscure reason, she did care.

“Sheik Jamal is an extraordinary lover,” Saha told Leila and Amar as they sat beside the pool in the small garden outside the harem. “He was tireless last night,” she lied. It wouldn’t do to tell her companions that Jamal had dismissed her, telling
her he was too tired to do either of them justice. “There was no end to his loving. I was quite exhausted when he sent me back to my room.”

Leila and Amar sighed dreamily, wishing it were they who had spent the night in Jamal’s arms.

“Do you not think our sheik is a magnificent lover, Zara?” Saha baited.

Zara, who was serving refreshments to Jamal’s concubines, paused, sending Saha a withering smile. “I do not know, Lady Saha.”

“You have spent many hours alone with Jamal,” Leila contended. “He must have found you unworthy of his attention if he did not let you pleasure him.”

“Jamal does not like blondes,” Amar said smugly. “Zara is not beautiful as we are, and she is far too skinny and tall to attract a man such as our master.”

“I do not like mint tea, Zara,” Saha said. “Fetch me something cool to drink. Perhaps a fruit sherbet.”

“These apples are bruised, Zara, bring fresh ones,” Amar ordered.

“I need a wet cloth to wipe my face, Zara,” Leila said. “Be sure it is scented with my special fragrance.”

Zara had taken just about all she could from Jamal’s spoiled women. They were indolent, pampered creatures with mush for brains. They didn’t have a thought in their heads that wasn’t of a sexual nature.

“I’m busy,” she said, deriving great pleasure
from the shocked silence that followed her words. “Do it yourselves.”

“I said I wanted something cool to drink,” Saha repeated, thrusting her cup of tepid tea at Zara. “Take this away.”

A sly smile turned up the corners of Zara’s lips as she took the cup and deliberately emptied it into Saha’s lap. Saha leaped to her feet, her eyes brilliant with hatred as Zara gave her a wicked smile.

“I’ve never seen you move so fast, Saha,” she taunted.

“Berber bitch! How dare you treat me with disrespect? Wait until I tell Jamal. Then we’ll see who has the last laugh.” She charged across the garden, and ran headlong into Jamal.

“Oh, my lord, praise Allah you’re here.”

Jamal’s knowing gaze traveled over Saha’s drenched caftan, and he knew without being told that Zara was the cause of her vexation. “What has upset you, Saha?”

Saha pointed an accusing finger at Zara. “Your Berber slave has insulted me. Look what she did to me!” She held out her damp caftan with thumb and forefinger. “The witch threw tea in my lap.”

Jamal wanted to laugh but knew it would only make matters worse. Zara would never learn obedience if he made light of her escapades, though in truth they amused him.

“What do you suggest I do, Saha?”

Saha’s smile was not pleasant. “The bastinado, my lord. Ten strokes on the soles of her feet should be sufficient.”

Jamal blanched, stunned by Saha’s viciousness.
Ten strokes of the wooden rod upon the soles of Zara’s tender feet would cripple her. “Aren’t you being a bit harsh?”

“Zara deserves it, my lord,” Leila contended. “She refused to serve me when I bade her bring me a wet cloth to bathe my face.”

“She would not fetch me a fresh apple,” Amar added. “Zara is a slave, is she not? She has been disobedient and sullen. After she is severely punished, you’d be wise to sell her.”

Jamal turned his dark gaze on Zara, who didn’t seem at all repentant. “You have displeased my women, Zara,” he said sternly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Zara gave him a contemptuous smile. “I have no desire to please your women. You do that well enough without my help.”

Jamal nearly burst, trying to contain his laughter. Attempting to sound stern, he said, “Sarcasm does not become you, Zara.”

“Zara is stubborn and fractious,” Leila said sulkily. “Send her away.”

“Aye, my lord,” Zara agreed sweetly. “Send me away. Your wager is all but lost, and I will be free shortly anyway.”

“What wager?” Saha wanted to know.

“Enough of this bickering,” Jamal ordered. He preferred not to divulge the terms of the wager he’d made with Zara. He was having such dismal luck seducing her that he’d rather it didn’t become common knowledge.

“You
are
going to punish Zara, aren’t you?” Saha asked, clinging to Jamal as she stared meltingly into his eyes.

“Aye, Zara will be punished according to her infraction,” Jamal intoned grimly. “Come with me, Zara.”

Zara wondered if she had gone too far. She didn’t relish being punished, but the look on Saha’s face when she’d dumped tea in her lap was almost worth it.

Chapter Six

How angry
was
Jamal? Zara wondered as she followed him to his chambers. Angry enough to use the bastinado on her? She shuddered. Would she be able to withstand the excruciating pain of being beaten upon the soles of her feet? Allah help her.

Once inside his chamber, Jamal rounded on her. Zara’s fear escalated when she noted the fierce expression on Jamal’s face.

“What are you going to do?”

“The bastinado seems an appropriate punishment for your insolent behavior toward my women, don’t you agree?”

Zara swallowed visibly. She had seen the damage done by a bastinado and it wasn’t pretty. “No, I do not agree. ’Tis much too harsh for my minor
offense. Your women are a lazy lot whose brains are situated between their legs.”

Jamal couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter. Zara’s canny assessment of his women was accurate. His new slave was truthful to a fault. Unfortunately, she must be punished for her disobedience. He couldn’t have her upsetting his household with her disruptive behavior.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Jamal agreed, “but ’tis not your place to judge my women. I did not acquire them for their intelligence.”

“That’s obvious, my lord,” she said sweetly. “You think on the same level as they do, only
your
brains are in that appendage between your legs.”

Jamal’s expression turned from amusement to anger in the blink of an eye. “You go too far, slave! If you do not curb your tongue I will have it cut out. ’Tis back to the stables with you. Obviously, you would rather wallow in dung than take your ease in comfortable quarters.”

Through some kind of silent communication, Hammet appeared at Jamal’s elbow.

“Fetch Zara clothing that is more appropriate for work in the stables, Hammet. She is to resume her chores there until she has learned humility. Take her away; she offends me.”

Back to the stables, Zara thought dismally as Hammet escorted her from Jamal’s chambers. She supposed she deserved it. Her sharp tongue had pricked Jamal’s anger and she must pay the consequences. But at least she’d been spared the bastinado. She tried to convince herself that the stables were better suited to her tastes than the harem, but it didn’t work.

Hammet plucked a set of rough clothing from a nail just inside the stables and thrust it at her. “You can change in an empty horse stall while I find Ahmed and tell him you’re back. Be quick about it.”

Zara stumbled into an empty stall and quickly donned the shirt, baggy pantaloons and
djellaba
, feeling more at ease in the familiar robes that all but obscured her figure than in the fancy harem clothing that displayed far too much skin. She had just pulled the
djellaba
over her head when Hammet pulled open the stall door.

“I have spoken with Ahmed. Your duties will begin immediately. They are the same as before.” He handed her a rake. “I personally don’t think this is woman’s work, but the master isn’t a man to be crossed. You have a vicious tongue, Zara. Learn to curb it and you can become our sheik’s favorite. You have more brains than Saha, Leila and Amar put together.”

Having had his say, Hammet turned on his heel and left her to contemplate her dismal future as a stable slave.

None of the stable slaves bothered Zara that night. Or the next. Or the night after that. Zara assumed they feared reprisal from Jamal and was grateful for that much at least. But stable work was backbreaking toil, and as each day passed, Zara had cause to regret her disrespect toward Jamal’s concubines. When would she learn to curb her sharp tongue? she wondered grumpily. Never, she supposed. Though she missed her soft bed in the harem, she was too proud to ask for it back.

Zara had claimed an empty stall for herself and forked fresh straw in it for her bed. It provided the only bit of privacy she had enjoyed since being assigned to the stables three days before. She had just eaten her supper, washed her hands and face, hung a lantern from a hook and was preparing to bed down for the night when she sensed someone staring at her over the low wall of the stall.

“Are you ready yet to admit defeat and act like a lady?” Jamal asked. His eyes glowed like polished ebony in the lamplight.

Zara glared disdainfully at Jamal. “Youssef’s daughter will never admit to defeat. As long as I do my work, you have nothing to complain about. Two weeks have already elapsed since we struck our bargain. Soon you will be forced to free me.”

Jamal spit out an oath. That cursed wager again! He’d never encountered a more provoking female. He didn’t want Zara sleeping on a bed of straw in the stables. He wanted her in his bed, in his arms, her body sated with his loving.

Jamal unlatched the gate and stepped into the stall. “Yield to me, vixen. I will swathe you in fine silks and brocades and give you jewels that match your green eyes.”

He pulled her against him so that she could feel the hard ridge of his need against her soft belly. “Can you not feel how much I want you?”

“I suggest that you visit your harem,” Zara countered. She hated the way her body betrayed her each time Jamal touched her, and she tried to pull away from him. He would not allow it.

“’Tis you I want, Zara. I have already tried to
assuage my need for you with my concubines, but they failed to quench the fire inside me.” His arm curved around her waist. “Come, I will teach you delights beyond those you achieved with your bandit lover.” His piercing gaze held her suspended. “Have you ever had tiny silver balls slipped inside you? When you move, or even breathe, they hit against one another, creating an erotic clamor that will bring you sublime rapture beyond anything you have ever known.”

Zara shuddered, aroused by Jamal’s seductive words and the tone of his voice. They were more arousing than the most intimate of caresses. If she didn’t put a stop to it soon, she’d be begging him to show her all the delights of which he spoke.

“Save them for your concubines,” Zara countered freeing herself from his grasp. “I am extremely happy where I am. You can take those little silver balls and—”

“Enough! You are a willful vixen with the heart and soul of a Berber warrior. I will leave you for now, Zara, but mark my words, you
will
be mine, in every way possible for a man to have a woman. When I place those silver balls inside you, you will beg for release that only I can give you. Good night, sweet vixen. Pleasant dreams.” Her shocked expression amused him. He hoped her dreams tonight were erotic ones.

“Cur! Camel dung!” Zara flung at him. No man had ever spoken to her of such things. Were there really erotic toys such as silver balls? Just thinking about them moving against one another inside
her made her feminine parts tingle and weep.

“Why? Why do you want me when there are willing women within your household?” Zara wanted to know.

Suddenly he grew serious, his expression grim. “I wish I knew. Perhaps Allah in his wisdom will reveal the answer to me one day.” He turned on his heel and left.

Sleep that night was a long time coming for Zara.

Jamal was having even greater difficulty finding sleep. He summoned Leila to his bed and then dismissed her when he found she did not appeal to him. He considered calling Amar or Saha but realized it wasn’t his concubines he wanted. Only Zara would satisfy him, and he had no stomach for forcing a woman to his bed. The Berber vixen had turned him into a cursed eunuch!

Having finally found sleep, Zara wasn’t prepared to be awakened a short time later. A hand came down over her mouth, and she felt a warm breath next to her ear.

“Awaken, Princess. I bring a message from your father.”

Full awareness came swiftly at the mention of her father.

“I will remove my hand if you promise not to cry out.”

Zara nodded vigorously and the hand came away. “Who are you?”

His words were a mere whisper of sound against her ear. “I am Rachid the camel trader,
one of your father’s spies. I heard a rumor that you were a stable slave but didn’t want to believe it. The sheik is a fiend to force you to perform such menial work.”

“From whom did you hear the rumor?”

“The sheik’s concubines spoke of you when they visited the
souk
yesterday. But I heard it from other sources, too. I promptly relayed the news to Youssef. He is camped in the mountains just beyond the oasis. His reply came today. He wants you to be prepared for a rescue attempt tomorrow night. The Blue Men will come in the darkest hours before dawn.”

“How will it be accomplished?” Zara wanted to know. She was literally shaking with excitement.

“Youssef and his men will scale the walls. Be prepared.”

“What can I do to help? They must be careful; guards are everywhere.”

Her words were met with silence. The messenger was gone.

The next day passed far too slowly for Zara’s liking. She tried to keep busy but found herself staring at the high walls surrounding Paradise far too often. Where was her father now? she wondered. Her heart leaped into her throat when Jamal appeared and asked to have his horse saddled. He and Haroun were going hunting in the mountains.

Zara’s first thought was that they would find her father. Then she chided herself for thinking such a thing possible. Youssef was too smart to be caught. He knew the mountains well and was
as wily as a fox. Jamal would never find him.

Tonight she would be with her people and never have to see Jamal again. Somehow that thought was not as comforting as she’d expected.

Jamal’s mind wasn’t on hunting. His thoughts were consumed by the stubborn Berber vixen who fought tooth and nail to stay out of his bed. Was he so repulsive then? His concubines didn’t think so.

“If your mind isn’t on hunting, Jamal, we are wasting our time out here,” Haroun commented dryly.

“I needed to get away, my friend,” Jamal said testily. “As you have noticed, I’ve not been in the best of moods of late.”

“Force the witch to your bed, Jamal,” Haroun advised. “You have been patient longer than most men in your place would be. Once you’ve feasted on Zara’s sweet flesh, you can turn your mind to more important matters. It isn’t like you to neglect your concubines. Had I a woman like Saha to pleasure me, I might never leave my bed.”

Jamal grew thoughtful. “You covet Saha, my friend?”

“Forgive me, my lord, I meant no disrespect. It is wrong of me to desire that which is not mine. I accept whatever punishment you deem proper.”

“We have been together a long time, Haroun. I would not dream of punishing you for so minor an offense. Saha is a troublesome baggage who needs a firmer hand than mine to control her.”

Haroun grinned. “I would tame her with gentle but unyielding patience were she mine.”

“Why have you never married, Haroun?” Jamal asked curiously.

Haroun flushed and looked away. He didn’t dare tell Jamal he could not marry as long as he coveted Saha so fiercely. “I have yet to meet a woman I wish to marry,” he said at length.

Jamal let the subject drop. “Perhaps you’re right, I’m not in the mood for hunting. Let us return.”

Suddenly Haroun reined his mount to a halt. “My lord, look! The remains of a campfire, a recent one. Who do you suppose travels this way?”

“Caravans usually don’t stray so far off their normal paths,” Jamal mused as he dismounted to study the tracks visible in the sandy soil, “yet there are camel tracks. What do you make of it, Haroun?”

“The camels were not carrying heavy burdens, my lord,” Haroun said, kneeling for a closer look at the tracks. “The hoof prints are smaller than those of the camels normally used to carry heavy burdens.

“Racing camels,” Haroun and Jamal said, coming to the same conclusion at the same time.

“Berber racing camels,” Jamal clarified. “And they are much too close to Paradise for comfort.”

“Do you suppose Youssef comes for his daughter?”

“’Tis my thought exactly. There have been no raids upon the sultan’s caravans since Zara’s capture. I received a missive from Ishmail just yesterday, thanking me for convincing him to spare the life of the
cadi’s
daughter. He is pleased with Youssef’s restraint since his daughter’s capture.”

“We must prepare for a rescue attempt by Youssef. I will alert the guards and put out extra watches.”

“Capturing Youssef will certainly please the sultan,” Jamal said. Yet even as he spoke the words, he imagined Zara’s devastation should her father end up as the sultan’s prisoner.

“I suggest you move Zara back to the harem,” Haroun said. “You don’t want to make it easy for Youssef to find her.”

Jamal gave the suggestion considerable thought before rejecting it. “Zara will remain in the stables. Moving her now might alert Youssef to the fact that we know of his scheme. Youssef will find a welcome party waiting for him when he attempts a rescue. We have plans to make, my friend. Plans that must be kept secret from Zara. The stable slaves need to be warned to keep out of sight tonight no matter what happens.”

Zara noted Jamal’s return with apprehension. He and Haroun had bagged no game, which seemed unusual in an area abounding with wild animals. Nothing seemed amiss, so she assumed that her father had remained safely hidden during the sheik’s foray into the mountains. She saw Jamal and Haroun speaking quietly to Ahmed and chafed with curiosity. There was no reason, however, for them to suspect a rescue attempt by her father tonight.

Night came too slowly, but when it finally arrived, Zara’s excitement escalated. So as not to raise suspicion, she crept into her stall at her
usual time and feigned sleep. Fearing to close her eyes lest she fall asleep, she stared into the darkness, anticipating a sweet reunion with her father.

Zara did not hear the soft whisper of nearly silent footsteps as Jamal and Haroun entered the stables and melted into the shadows. Guards were stationed beneath the walls, at various sites near the gate and outside the stables. These precautions were to be observed nightly, until Youssef appeared. Jamal had a gut feeling it would be tonight.

The Blue Men slipped over the walls as silent as wraiths, nearly invisible in the blue-black darkness of night. Jamal watched from the shadows as they hit the ground and crept toward the stables. He counted six of them. Obviously they meant to slip in and out of the compound without creating a disturbance. It was a daring rescue attempt, albeit one doomed to failure.