Sheik (21 page)

“Jamal married the Berber witch?” Saha cried in disbelief. “I cannot believe he would do such a stupid thing.” She gave Nafisa a sly smile. “If Zara is indeed with child, Jamal will get scant comfort from her body when she grows large. He will look upon me with new eyes. Should he want me again, Haroun will not stand in his way.”

Little Zinab placed her fists on her slender hips and faced Saha squarely. “I do not like you, Saha. You are vain and self-centered. You have been dreadfully spoiled. If you try to hurt Zara, you will have me to answer to.”

Zinab’s dark eyes were so fierce, Saha drew back in alarm. Nafisa cackled gleefully. “You have met your match in Zinab, Saha.”

“That child? She doesn’t frighten me.” Saha’s actions belied her words, though, as she spun on her heel and fled.

Jamal’s recovery was almost miraculous. His color was better and he was able to take liquids on his own. The debilitating infection that had
raged through his body had been contained, and his death no longer seemed imminent. He continued to sleep a great deal, but the doctor said it was a healing sleep. During his waking hours Jamal wanted Zara with him. Though he spoke little, just having her in the same room seemed to soothe him.

They had been at sea several days when Zara entered Jamal’s cabin to find him propped up in bed. He had lost considerable weight, but she was glad to see that the old sparkle was back in his eyes. He held out his hand and she took it, letting him tug her down on the bed beside him.

She gave him a breathtaking smile. “You’re better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“It was the doctor who saved your life.”

“My life was saved long before the doctor arrived.” He grew pensive. “I almost didn’t make it, sweet vixen. I was knocking at death’s door when you called me back. I didn’t want to return. The pain was too great, the suffering too intense. I was one step away from entering Paradise. The promise of eternal peace and tranquillity was pulling me toward death. Then I heard your voice.”

He asked for water and she held the cup to his lips. “I feared you hadn’t heard me,” Zara said. “I was so frightened.”

He searched her face, musing on some private memory. “How long have you known about our child?”

Her gaze dropped to her hands. This was the first time Jamal had mentioned their child since
she’d told him. Was he happy about it? “Since before I arrived in Meknes to rescue you.”

“By Allah’s beard!” Despite his weakness, he had no trouble making his displeasure known. “You risked your life to save mine while you were with child! You could have been caught, or injured, or—” He shivered. He didn’t even want to think about how easily he could have lost her.

“I had to! I couldn’t let you die. Nothing happened to me. We’re both alive, and our baby prospers inside me.” She flattened her hand against her stomach. “Are you pleased about the child?”

Jamal placed his hand over hers. “Extremely pleased. You’ve been through so much. I shudder when I think about you jumping from the wall and running through the
medina
to the docks. And that dreadful swim to the
Plunderer
.” He shook his head. “’Tis a miracle you survived those long hours in the saddle without mishap. Our child is strong, sweet vixen. As strong as his mother.”

“Do you remember having the captain marry us, Jamal?”

“Of course. I wanted you to have the protection of my name. I’ve amassed a considerable fortune and inherited another, most of it safely invested in commerce or deposited in English banks. I wanted it to be yours when …
if
I didn’t make it to England.”

“That’s no longer a possibility. Dr. Ben Israel said you’re going to recover fully. You were lucky. Had the scimitar entered an inch to the right, you would never have been able to father another child.”

“Praise Allah in his infinite mercy,” Jamal said on a sigh.

“You’re tired. Rest now. I’ll go to the galley and get you something to eat.”

“No more broth or bland rice,” Jamal said, his expression registering his distaste. “I need my strength if I’m going to consummate my marriage.”

She gave him a saucy smile. “Judging by my condition, I’d say our marriage has most definitely been consummated.” She turned to leave. “I’ll be back soon with something substantial for you to eat.”

Jamal smiled. For the first time since he’d been wounded, he actually felt as if he would live. He’d been out of touch with reality for many days and had finally awakened clear-headed this morning. He had defied death and owed his return to the living to Zara. Just thinking about his warrior woman made him smile.

“Oh, you’re better. Haroun told me you were, but I had to see for myself.”

Jamal was surprised to see Saha standing just inside the doorway. “I’m not ready yet to meet my maker. I have too much to live for. Zara carries my child. I’m going to be a father.”

Saha’s lips turned down into a scowl. “So I heard. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak privately with you.” She approached the bed with mincing steps. “Soon Zara will be too large and ungainly to give you pleasure. I know you, Jamal. You are not a man to forgo your pleasure for very long. When you grow disgusted with Zara’s bulk,
know that I am most eager to give you what she cannot.”

“You belong to Haroun,” Jamal contended. “He is your new master. Look to him for your pleasure.”

“I was told that England does not recognize slave and master. I will be free to pick and choose my own man. I choose you, my lord.”

“Were you not also told that Englishmen are allowed one wife and do not keep harems?”

“They have mistresses,” she said smugly. “I will be your mistress.” She grasped his hand, placing it on her breast. “My breasts are firm and full.” She dragged his hand down to her belly. “Unlike Zara’s, my stomach is flat.” She took his hand lower, bringing it to rest on her plump mound. “My sheath is hot and tight and my tiny jewel weeping for the touch of your mouth.”

“For the love of Allah, leave me, Saha!” It angered him to think that he was too weak to pull his hand from Saha’s surprisingly strong grip.

Zara chose that moment to return. She was angered but not surprised by Saha’s boldness. Saha stood beside the bed, clasping Jamal’s hand between her legs. Zara snorted her approval when she heard Jamal order Saha to leave. Oblivious to Jamal’s wishes, Saha spread her legs and pressed his hand more firmly against her. All three occupants of the cabin were unaware of another presence. Haroun stood behind Zara. He’d seen Zara enter the cabin carrying a tray and thought to pay a visit to Jamal while he ate.

“Saha!” he roared. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Control your woman, Haroun,” Jamal ordered weakly. “Tie her to the bed if you must, but keep her away from me.”

Grasping Saha by her bright hair, he pulled her from the cabin. “I will beat her,” Haroun said. “I’ve been remiss in my duty lately, but I will remedy that at once. I should have left the little witch in Morocco for the sultan’s pleasure.”

“I didn’t invite Saha in here,” Jamal said once he and Zara were alone. “I want no woman but you.”

Zara set the tray down and fluffed the pillow behind Jamal’s head. “Your juices run hot within you, Jamal. There will come a day when I am unable to pleasure you. I suppose Saha was thinking of the future. When I become disgustingly fat, you may want another woman.”

Jamal’s look told her exactly what he thought of her logic. “Do you think so little of me that I would take another woman when you grow large with my child? That might have been true once, but I am not that same pleasure-seeking man who had never tasted love. Do you think me so self-centered that nothing matters but my own pleasure? You sorely wound me, sweet vixen. I’ve not made love to another since meeting you and never will. Now that that’s settled, show me what you’ve brought me to eat.”

Zara spooned succulent lamb and rice into Jamal’s mouth until he was full. When he finished, he urged her to lie down beside him. Nestled against his good side, Zara felt happier than she had ever believed possible. England no longer seemed as frightening as it once had.

*        *        *

Each day Jamal grew stronger. Zara, Nafisa and Zinab spent long afternoons in his cabin learning the rudiments of English. Saha refused to attend the impromptu lessons, declaring that she wanted nothing to do with the infidels or their language.

The weather turned bitter cold and the ocean churned with winter winds. They dropped anchor at the French coastal city of Brest, and Jamal felt well enough to visit the town to purchase winter clothing for the woman, Haroun and Hammet. Since he always kept a selection of English gentlemen’s clothing aboard his ship, including appropriate footwear, he only added a fur-lined cloak and hat to his own wardrobe.

The first time Zara donned her new clothing, she felt as if she were choking. “Did a man who hates women design these restricting garments?” she asked Jamal as she breezed into this cabin. “Given a choice, I’d wear the baggy trousers, shirt and
djellaba
of my people.”

Though she cared little for English female attire, Zara thought Jamal looked quite handsome in white linen shirt, satin vest, tight trousers and knee-length boots.

“It always amazed me that English womanhood was willing to endure near torture to appear attractive,” Jamal contended. “I prefer you naked any day. I will endeavor to keep you that way as often as I can. Come.” He patted the bunk beside him. “Soon we will reach England and we need to talk.”

Zara sat down beside him, searching his well-loved
face. He still wasn’t completely healed but he no longer had that hollow look about his eyes. He was thinner but rapidly regaining both weight and strength.

“What shall we talk about?” Was he already sorry he’d brought her with him?

“You asked me once if I had a wife in England and I said I had no wife.”

Zara felt as if the deck had fallen out from beneath her. “You lied! You
do
have a wife.”

“Nay, sweet vixen, you are my only wife. But my mother has a woman all picked out for me. I met her on my last trip to England, but she didn’t appeal to me. Nevertheless, Mother is set on the match. I know she’ll love you once she gets to know you, but I wanted to warn you. My mother is a wonderful woman, warm, kind and generous. Once she realizes that you are the woman I want, she’ll accept you with open arms. She’ll be ecstatically happy to learn I intend to settle in England, accept Grandfather’s title and become a member of the House of Lords.”

Zara wasn’t so sure about her reception. She gave him a wobbly smile. “You can always divorce me if your mother doesn’t approve. ’Tis a simple enough thing to do.”

“Not in England. Besides, why would I wish to divorce a woman who holds my heart? The woman who carries my child inside her.”

He turned her to face him and began to unbutton her dress. “Now I know why English women retain their virginity until marriage,” he quipped as he fumbled clumsily with the tiny buttons. “They can’t get their blasted clothes off.”

“What are you doing? I can’t change here. I left my caftan in my cabin.”

“From now on you’re going to share my cabin. I’m tired of sleeping alone. And when we get to England, we’ll occupy the same room and sleep in the same bed. I don’t hold with the English custom of husbands and wives maintaining separate sleeping quarters.”

Zara sighed. “Englishmen have strange customs. It will take me a very long time to adjust. Perhaps I never will.”

“I don’t give a bloody damn, I like you just the way you are.”

They had been conversing in English, which Jamal insisted upon now. “Englishmen have strange ways of expressing themselves. Isn’t ‘bloody’ a curse word?”

Jamal smiled. “’Tis a word a lady would never use in public.”

“As long as we’re discussing England, what about Haroun, Nafisa and Zinab? And Dr. David ben Israel? Where will they fit into your household?”

“Nafisa can be our child’s nursemaid. She and my mother are acquainted from the old days when Father was alive and Mother lived in Morocco. Hammet wishes to be my personal servant, and Zinab can be yours. They will all be paid generously for performing their duties and can come and go as they please. As for the good doctor, he will remain my personal physician and live in my home.”

“That still leaves Haroun. It will be more difficult to find a position for him.”

“Haroun has visited England many times in the past. He is acquainted with the customs and language. I will employ him in any capacity he wishes. His friendship means a great deal to me, and I want him nearby even if he chooses not to become a part of my household.”

“Could he do that? Live separately from you, I mean?”

“Haroun is not a poor man. His portion of the pirate booty throughout the years is not inconsiderable. I advised him to invest his money in English shipping, and he did as I suggested. His profits have been deposited in the Bank of England and his account grows yearly. I did the same and have amassed a fortune. You’ve married an extremely rich man, sweet vixen.”

“That takes care of everyone but Saha,” Zara mused. “She is not a happy woman. I get the impression that Haroun is becoming disenchanted with her.”

“Saha’s fate is in Haroun’s hands. Forget them for now. Help me with your dress. I want to love my wife. It’s been far too long since I held her in my arms.”

“Nay, you can’t! You’re not well enough. You’ll reopen your wound, and the doctor will be angry with me for permitting such strenuous activity so soon.”

He gave her a seductive smile. “Fear not, sweet vixen. I will find a way to love you without doing myself injury.”

Chapter Twenty

The
Plunderer
anchored in London Pool on a wet, dreary December day. Zara thought it an omen of things to come but tried to shake off her gloomy mood. She couldn’t imagine what could go wrong. She and Jamal were more in love than ever and her baby prospered within her, though at nearly four months the babe was hardly more than a small bulge beneath her waist. Her breasts and waist were larger but her stomach was only slightly rounded.

Weather during the six-week voyage to England had kept them mostly confined to their cabins. During the long hours of confinement, everyone but Saha learned to speak enough English to be understood and to express themselves. Jamal’s wound was nearly healed and his strength almost fully restored. If Zara had any
doubts as to his vigor, she had but to recall the frequency and exuberance of his lovemaking.

“Are you ready to go ashore, love?” Jamal asked as they stood at the railing watching the docking process.

Wrapped to her eyebrows in fur, Zara shivered in the cold wind and stared curiously at the drab buildings lining the wharves and the brisk activity taking place along the waterfront. “It’s so different from Tangier. Everything looks gray and dirty here. Where are the sparkling white buildings? The beautiful expanses of green? The mountains?”

“No white buildings here, Zara. Everything is covered in coal dust. If you want green you must go to the country. As for mountains, they exist only in Wales and Scotland. I have many estates scattered throughout England and Scotland. One of them should please you.”

“Where do we go from here?”

“To my home in Kent. Mother isn’t fond of London. She spends most of her time in the country. Haroun is going to ride ahead to warn them of our arrival. I told him not to tell Mother about our marriage. I want to tell her myself. Haroun is to state that I am arriving with a party of five and that rooms are to be prepared.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? Not telling your mother about us, I mean?”

“I want her to hear it from my own lips. And I want her to meet you first. Don’t worry, she’ll love you.”

“What do I call your mother?”

“Her name is Eloise, Lady Lanford. Just call
her ‘my lady’ until she tells you different. You’ll get along famously, I know you will.”

“How far is it to Kent?”

“Not so far, but I want to take it easy with you. We’ll stop on the road the first night. Traveling by coach in winter can be hazardous if roads are icy. Then there are road agents to contend with.”

“Road agents?”

“Thieves who stop travelers and rob them. But that won’t happen to us. I intend to hire outriders to make the road safe for us.”

“The gangplank is in place, my lord,” Captain Brahim said as he came up to join them. “Will you and your lady be going ashore now?”

“I’m going ashore first to hire a conveyance to take our party to Lanford Manor, and outriders to protect us. When I return, the entire party will depart for Kent.”

“What about the ship? Do you wish her to remain berthed in London Pool?”

“If you’re not averse to remaining in London a few weeks, I’ll endeavor to find a cargo for you to take back to Morocco. I have decided to give the
Plunderer
to you in payment for your faithful service. I have enough interests here in England to keep me busy, including shipping investments. Pirating no longer appeals to me. What you do with the ship is your business.”

Brahim appeared stunned. “My lord, you are most generous. The crew is eager to explore London and its environs and will appreciate a few weeks on land. I’ll give them the good news.”

“I won’t be long,” Jamal said to Zara after the captain took his leave. “I need to hire a coach
large enough to transport our party to Kent and to buy a horse for Haroun. Wait with the others in the cabin where it is warm.”

She lifted her lips for his kiss. “Hurry back, my love. I’m most eager to meet your mother and see your home.”

Zara watched Jamal stride down the gangplank, thinking him the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She never tired of touching him, of kissing him, of finding ecstasy in his arms. Their lovemaking brought a dimension to her life that had been missing before. Nothing could describe the unspeakable pleasure he gave her. He knew exactly how and where to touch her to produce the most intense bliss she had ever known.

But Zara was not without reservations. England was a strange country. How long would she hold her husband’s love? she wondered. Would he find pale English beauties more appealing than she? Would he take a mistress when she grew too large to accommodate him? And what about his mother? Lady Lanford wanted him to take a wealthy English bride, one with a title. In the face of such opposition, could she survive in this cold, dreary country?

Only time would tell.

Jamal arrived back at the ship much later than expected. He’d had a difficult time renting the kind of coach he wanted for his wife and friends and had ended up buying a brand-new coach and four. The coach was roomy enough to seat six and luxuriously appointed with leather seats and squabs and running lanterns. The horses were
well-matched and spirited. The equipage had cost a small fortune, but Jamal had decided to splurge. Zara’s comfort was important to him. Hiring two brawny men as outriders and an experienced driver had proved less difficult than finding an appropriate conveyance.

“It’s very handsome,” Zara said admiringly as she climbed into the coach.

The others piled in behind her. Zinab huddled beside Zara, miserable in the damp cold despite Jamal’s thoughtfulness in providing fur lap robes to keep them warm.

They made it to Chatham the first night, stopping at an inn that seemed crude and primitive compared to Jamal’s palacial home in Morocco with its tiled courtyard, lush gardens and sumptuous baths. They supped on English fare of kidney pie, rare roast beef, boiled potatoes and cabbage. The food was far too heavy and unappetizing for Zara’s delicate palate. Since there was no fruit in England at this time of year, she went to bed hungry.

“You’ll like Lanford Manor,” Jamal said, aware of Zara’s misery. “There are hearths in every room to ward off the chill, cheerful gardens and vast orchards that produce delicious fruit in the summer.”

He took her in his arms, warming her with the heat of his body. “Barring anything unforeseen, we will reach the village of Maidstone before dark tomorrow. Lanford lies a few kilometers beyond the village. Go to sleep, my love.”

Sleep didn’t come easily. Grave misgivings plagued Zara. She could neither understand nor
explain her disquiet, for Jamal’s mother sounded like a caring woman. A loving mother wouldn’t hate her son’s bride, would she?

The coach sped through Maidstone the following day. The day was cold and bleak, and few people were out and about. Sheets of freezing sleet pelted against the windows of the coach. Having lived in the mountains through many winters, Zara suffered less than Saha and little Zinab, who hadn’t experienced bitter winter weather before and hated it.

A gloomy twilight had fallen over the hushed land by the time the coach turned into a long lane guarded on either side by tall oak trees devoid of all their leaves. The outline of a large manor constructed of gray stone came into view, and Zara strained to get a better look.

The house was nothing like the magnificent marble palaces of Morocco with their wide covered walkways and tall arched windows. While homes in her country tended to be built closer to the ground, this imposing structure consisted of three stories and as many turrets. Though Zara couldn’t exactly describe it as a castle, nevertheless she thought it monstrously oppressive.

Jamal must have read her mind, for he said, “’Tisn’t nearly as depressing as it looks. The inside is surprisingly cheerful.”

Zara gave him a half-hearted smile. “I can’t wait to see it.”

The coach drove beneath the porte cochere and stopped to discharge its passengers. Jamal hopped down first and helped Zara to alight.
Hammet descended next and helped the other ladies. Suddenly the front door flew open and a serenely beautiful lady of middle years rushed into Jamal’s open arms.

“Ah, Jamal, how I prayed for this day. You’ve always been so adamant about remaining in Morocco that I’d nearly given up hope of having you permanently in England. My fondest wishes have come to pass.”

She remembered her manners after a moment and released Jamal. “Welcome. Welcome, everyone,” she said, addressing the group who had descended from the coach and stood shivering in the frosty night air. “Come inside where it’s warm.” She smiled at her son. “I have a surprise for you, Jamal. I hope you’ll be pleased.”

Lady Lanford led them into the parlor, where the women made directly for the hearth, drawn by the welcome warmth of the cheery fire. Zara was delighted to learn that Jamal hadn’t lied when he’d said the inside of the manor wasn’t as dreary as the outside. She felt herself warming to the cherrywood furniture, overstuffed chairs and walls brightened with paintings and tapestries.

Though there was nothing here to remind her of the airy, uncluttered Moroccan palaces with their colorful mosaic walls, tile floors and thick carpets, she felt she could be happy here. She came out of her trance when Jamal grasped her hand and pulled her toward his mother.

Zara gripped his hand hard and waited. But before Jamal could perform the introductions, there was a commotion in the hall. Lady Lanford turned away from Jamal and Zara to greet the
arrival of an attractive young woman.

“Ah, Caroline, you’re just in time. Jamal has finally arrived. Come greet him, my dear. You remember Caroline, don’t you, Jamal? She’s the surprise I mentioned.”

Jamal groaned in dismay. Caroline, Lady Wellsley, was the girl his mother hoped he would marry.

“Wasn’t it clever of me to send for Caroline so she could be on hand to greet you?” Lady Lanford said, beaming at her son.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Caroline said, blushing for Jamal’s benefit. “Lady Lanford insisted that I be here when you arrived.”

Zara thought Caroline quite attractive with her ash blood hair and porcelain complexion. Her nose was a trifle long and she seemed to have it in the air a lot, but otherwise her face was a nearly perfect oval. She wondered who Caroline was.

“Mother, before this goes too far, I want to present Zara and my friends to you.”

Lady Lanford gave the group her friendliest smile, and Zara felt certain all was going to be well.

“I already know Nafisa, Hammet and Dr. David ben Israel, but the other women are unknown to me.”

“Saha is Haroun’s … woman,” Jamal said for lack of a better word. His mother would know exactly what he meant. “Zinab”—he indicated the young girl beside Zara—“is Zara’s maidservant. And Zara,” he said, slipping an arm around Zara’s waist, “is my wife.”

Lady Lanford gasped in dismay as she sent Caroline a speaking glance.

“I fear we have been premature, Lady Lanford,” Caroline said in a brittle voice. “Obviously, your son preferred a heathen to a proper English wife. ’Tis such a shame. A fortune comes with me, you know. Papa will be disappointed. He wanted a duke for me, but an earl would have sufficed.” Turning on her heel, she swept past the group and out the door with regal grace.

Lady Lanford stared at Zara, forgetting to close her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Mother, I didn’t mean to shock you,” Jamal said. “Aren’t you going to welcome Zara?”

Finally Lady Lanford remembered her manners. “Forgive me, my dear. Jamal hasn’t changed. He does enjoy shocking a poor old lady. Welcome to the family.” She gave Zara a halfhearted hug. “Where did Jamal find a beauty like you?”

“I’m a Berber, my lady,” Zara said. “My father is Youssef,
cadi
of the Berbers. Have you heard of him?”

Lady Lanford staggered backward as if struck. Color drained from her face and her eyes became two burning coals. “You are Youssef’s daughter?” The question came out as a hiss.

“Mother, what’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. You’re frightening Zara.”

“Zara, Youssef’s daughter,” Lady Lanford repeated. “Take her away, Jamal! Get her out of my sight!”

Zara recoiled in horror. What had she done?

“Mother, what is it?”

“Don’t you know, Jamal? Has no one ever told you?”

“Told me what?”

“You know your father was killed fighting Berbers, don’t you?” Jamal nodded. “Obviously, what you don’t know is that he was slain by Youssef, Zara’s father. I can’t look at her without thinking of my poor Ahab.”

Zara recoiled in dismay. This couldn’t be happening to her. Just when she had everything in life she could ever desire, it was about to be snatched away. How could Jamal love her when his father had died at the hands of Youssef, her own beloved father?

“Mother! I had no idea,” Jamal claimed, flying to Zara’s defense. “Nevertheless, you can’t hold Zara responsible for something her father did.”

“I’m sorry,” Lady Lanford said, turning away. “Take her away, Jamal. It’s going to take a while to become accustomed to having the daughter of your father’s killer living in my home. I will see that your friends are settled in their rooms. Meet me in the library later and we’ll discuss this in private.”

“Mother, I—”

“Nay, son, say nothing. Take your … wife and leave me. I need time alone to come to grips with this.”

Zara felt as if the earth had dropped out from beneath her. In a daze, she allowed Jamal to draw her with him out of the room and up the curved staircase. Once they reached Jamal’s room, he remained thoughtful as he walked to the window and stared moodily into the distance.

“I’m sorry, Jamal. I had no idea,” Zara began.
“I did so want your mother to like me.”

“Things will work out.” The tremor in his voice belied his words. Why hadn’t he known the name of the man who had killed his father? Because it had never mattered before, he told himself. Knowing the man’s name wouldn’t bring his father back. He’d been away at the time and arrived home months after his death.

“No, they won’t! How can they?”

He turned to her then, his face softening. “She’ll come around. I’ll speak to her while you rest. Should I send up something for you to eat?”