Sheik (5 page)

Hammet bowed himself out of the room, leaving Jamal to anticipate the many delights to be had with his concubines. All three women were young, lush and ripe. He had chosen them expressly for their experience in the arts of love. But it wasn’t Leila, Saha or Amar he wanted to make love to, it was a tall Berber vixen with the supple curves of an
houri
.

Zara stretched out on her bed of straw and groaned. Every bone in her body ached. She was filthy, smelled of dung, and felt exhausted beyond endurance. But those were the least of her problems. Even in the dark she could feel the avid dark eyes of her companions upon her, and despite the warm night, she shivered. Though she had spoken but briefly to the other stable slaves, Zara knew what they were thinking. She was fair game. Earlier she had heard them arguing over who would have her first, and she had hidden a pitchfork beside her in the straw before making her bed.

Despite her fear, Zara must have fallen asleep for she awoke abruptly to the sound of footsteps shuffling across the floor. She braced herself and reached for the pitchfork, somewhat comforted when her hand closed over the handle. Suddenly a body fell on top of her and she cried out. She
might as well have remained mute for all the help it brought her.

“Quiet, woman,” a voice rasped into her ear. “Our master sent you here to pleasure us, and since I am the strongest I will have you first.”

It was Mustafa, a huge man with the strength of a bull. She had seen him lift an anvil today without breaking out in a sweat.

“Get off me, you stinking piece of camel dung! I was sent here to work, not to pleasure the sheik’s stable slaves. Touch me and I will tell your master.”

Her commanding voice captured his attention, but not for long. He groped her breasts, trying to rip her clothes aside to get to her bare skin. “Hold still, woman! Once I impale you with my mighty lance you will beg for more. I am as big as a horse. Whatever you did to displease our master is our gain.”

He found the sash holding up Zara’s pantaloons and released it, crying out in triumph when his hand encountered flesh as soft as silk. “Aiyee, tonight I will taste heaven. Open yourself for me, woman.”

Digging into the straw, Zara’s hand closed upon the pitchfork. Grasping it close to the shank, she brought it upward, thrusting it against Mustafa’s chest.

“Release me, foul beast,” Zara said with quiet menace. “Never touch me again. Tell your companions they will suffer horribly if they do not leave me alone. I will emasculate them in their sleep. I will cut off their testicles and feed them to the pigs. Believe me, I do not lie. I am Princess
Zara, daughter of the great
cadi
Youssef. Consider yourself lucky that I do not kill you.”

Mustafa sprang away, impressed by Zara’s bravery yet at the same time angry that a mere woman should talk to him so. “You are but one small woman against many. I have but to call my companions to hold you down while I take my pleasure.”

Holding the pitchfork protectively aloft, Zara warned, “Try it and tomorrow your master will have your heads separated from your bodies.”

Her words gave Mustafa pause. What if the master had put the woman to work in the stables as punishment for some minor infraction? To use her as Mustafa wanted might enrage the master, and then what would become of him? Sheik Jamal was a kind master and Mustafa would rather remain in his household than be sold, or possibly killed.

He rose slowly. The moment his weight was gone from her, Zara leaped to her feet. “Get out of my way!”

“Where do you go, lady?”

“To find a bed not infected with vermin like you.”

Pitching aside her makeshift weapon, she held her pantaloons about her slim waist with one hand and ran from the stables, not daring to look back. Her knees were knocking together and she was trembling. Had Jamal truly sent her to the stables to pleasure his slaves?

Zara had no idea where she was going, except away from the stables. She’d rather sleep with pigs than be ravished by humans more foul than
pigs. Unfortunately, Zara was trapped within the compound. The gates surrounding Paradise were guarded by Jamal’s men-at-arms and too high to scale. She followed a moonlit path to the inner courtyard. Slipping through the arched entrance, Zara stared in awe at the lush gardens within the enclosure, and the sparkling pool fed by a fountain at its center.

Jamal’s marble palace was built around the tiled courtyard, with all its rooms opening onto it. A covered walkway marched along all four sides of the square, held up by marble columns. Zara visualized Jamal’s concubines walking, laughing and talking in the jewel-like setting, like fluttering birds amid the colorful blossoms.

But it was the pool that drew Zara. The night was warm, and she was filthy and sweaty beneath her clothing. Her own stench offended her. Glancing about, she saw no movement within the palace. She supposed Jamal was frolicking in the harem with his concubines and not likely to leave any time soon. She gazed longingly at the pool. It proved too inviting to resist.

Creeping to the edge of the pool, Zara removed her
djellaba
, shirt and pantaloons and eased into the water. Though the water only reached her knees, it felt like heaven. In the center of the fountain a fat cherub knelt on a pedestal, holding an ewer from which a steady stream of cool, clear water spewed forth.

Zara waded to the fountain, raised her face to the moon and let the water spill down upon her. She lamented the lack of soap and scent to rub
upon her skin, but the cool water was enough to restore her.

Unbeknownst to Zara, Jamal was watching from the double doors opening into his chamber. He had pulled aside the silken curtains wafting in the gentle breeze and was going to take the short walk across the courtyard to the harem when he’d seen her. He stepped out into the star-studded night, lured by the object of his erotic fantasies, her nude body a pale column of gold beneath the bright moonlight.

Moving behind a marble pillar, he watched her enter the shallow pool and wade to the fountain. He lost the ability to breathe when she turned toward him, lifting her face to the sky as water from the cherub’s ewer spilled down upon her golden head.

She was a goddess, created by Allah to tempt the holiest of men, and Allah knew he had never aspired to the state of holiness. His erection rose full and hard. Release was but steps away in his harem, yet he couldn’t turn away from the tempting
houri
bathing in his pool.

Her arms were raised, fanning her hair to catch the spray from the cherub’s ewer. The simple motion pushed her breasts upward and out, providing a feast for his hungry gaze. Her nipples were distended, and he ached to lap the drops of water clinging to their coral tips. Jamal blessed the brightness of the moon as his gaze slid downward, past Zara’s narrow hips, across her flat stomach to her smooth mound. She was plump and pink there, and he longed to part her pale thighs and sip of her sweet nectar.

When Zara turned her back to him, he admired the supple curve of her spine, the perfect twin moons of her buttocks, the long, elegant length of her legs. He wondered if the backs of her knees were sensitive and wanted to press kisses there and on the tender flesh between her pale thighs.

Zara would have liked to remain in the pool longer but she feared discovery. A household this size was bound to have servants wandering about, but still she lingered. Suddenly she shivered, and the hairs at the back of her neck prickled. She glanced around, feeling eyes on her that she could not see.

Probing the shadows beneath the walkway, Zara sensed but did not see him. Yet his presence was so strong, every nerve ending in her body tingled with awareness. What would he do if he found her in his pool?

Jamal knew the instant Zara sensed his presence. She became watchful; her body tensed. He heard her gasp aloud when he stepped out from behind the pillar.

“Do not let me interrupt your bath.”

Zara stared at him, seeing him for the first time without his turban. His hair was dark, wavy, and clubbed at his neck with cord. He wore a silk caftan, belted at his narrow waist.

“I was just leaving.”

“I insist that you stay.”

She was surprised to hear him summon his servant. “Hammet, bring soap and fragrant oils. My new slave wishes to bathe.”

Chapter Four

Zara truly did try to turn her gaze away as Jamal released the sash on his caftan and let it slide down his body. But the mesmerizing beauty of his muscular, fully aroused form fascinated her. His chest was broad and lightly furred. A narrow band of hair reached down to his groin and was lost in the dark forest between his legs. She stared at his manhood, rising full and heavy against his stomach, and suspected he was much larger than most men. Tearing her gaze away from his groin, she glanced down the long length of his legs, which like his chest were covered with fine dark hair.

Her gaze returned to his erection, and this time she did look away.

Jamal chuckled, aware of where her eyes had taken her. With consummate grace he sat down
at the edge of the pool, dangling his legs in the water. A moment later Hammet appeared at his side, bearing a jar of soap, a vial of perfumed oil and a stack of linen drying cloths.

Jamal’s gaze never left Zara as he said, “Thank you, Hammet, you’re dismissed. I will have no further need of you tonight. And take these with you,” he added, handing the eunuch Zara’s filthy clothing.

Hammet held Zara’s clothing between thumb and forefinger, as if offended by its stench, then left as silently as he had appeared.

“Come here,” Jamal commanded.

Zara shook her head and edged away from him, her eyes wild with panic. Where could she go? What could she do? Her clothes were gone, she couldn’t run about naked, not with animals like Mustafa around.

“Come here, I said,” Jamal repeated more harshly. “You can’t wash properly without soap.”

“I’m clean enough,” Zara insisted. “I want my clothes back.”

“In good time,” Jamal said. He offered his hand to her.

Since no other choice was open to her, Zara approached Jamal warily. She halted just out of his reach. “What do you want?”

He glanced down at his massive erection and laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I’m not your love slave. You have concubines to ease your lust. The silly girls are probably pining for your attention.”

“So they are.” He lunged for her, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her between his spread
thighs, facing him. “Now behave while I bathe you.”

He dipped his fingers into the jar of soap and, starting at her shoulders, spread jasmine-scented lather over her torso. His hands paused on her breasts, molding them against his palms, gently squeezing the nipples between his thumb and forefinger until they became swollen and distended. He searched her face as his hands explored her body, smiling smugly when she tilted her head back and groaned.

Zara was on fire. Her breasts felt heavy and engorged and her nipples were aroused. If Jamal didn’t stop she would die. Then she felt his hands moving down to her stomach, rubbing around her navel, pressing places on her abdomen that added a new dimension to her torment.

Jamal was entranced. Zara’s smooth, hairless body was perfection. Unlike his concubines, who sat around eating and preening all day, it was obvious Zara spent long hours in strenuous activity. Her stomach was flat, not an ounce of superfluous fat marred her torso, and her legs were taut and lightly muscled.

Jamal’s hand cupped her silken mound, spreading soap over her loins, then dipped down between her thighs, and up again into her tender cleft. Zara cried out, struggling to escape his invasion of her body, but his strong legs held her like a vise.

He worked his fingers against her flesh, seeking and finding the tiny pearl of her femininity. Zara’s body spasmed as fire licked along her nerve endings.
She pushed against his chest to make him stop, but he merely laughed at her.

“Do you like that, Princess?” he whispered against her ear. “Spread your legs and let me pleasure you.” He slid two fingers inside her and Zara’s knees buckled.

“No, stop! Send me back to the stables but don’t use me like this!”

Jamal went still. He seemed angry. “I’m not using you. I want to give you pleasure. We will pleasure one another.”

“That’s not at all what I want. Berber women are free to choose their own lovers. We are men’s equals.”

Schooled in the ways of Islam and the teachings of Allah, Jamal was surprised at the concept of women being men’s equals. Even in his mother’s country women were possessions. They could not own property or enter into contracts. They had to obey their husbands and submit to their wishes.

“You are a slave, and slaves have no rights,” Jamal pointed out. “I can take you here, beside the pool, if I so desire.”

“I will not submit easily.”

Jamal stared at her. Her beauty was mesmerizing. Allah help him, for he
did
want her, but force did not appeal to him. Force had never been necessary in his dealings with women.
I will have her willing and submissive
, he vowed to himself,
without the use of force
. Seduction was a game Jamal played well. Zara was his possession, and he was determined to have her in his bed. He
wanted her for his love slave, eager and submissive to his needs.

“I will strike a deal with you, sweet vixen. Here’s my wager. Within four weeks you will invite me inside your body. If you do not, I will set you free.”

Zara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jamal had just offered to free her if he couldn’t seduce her within four weeks. Allah was indeed kind to her. She would never willingly place herself in Jamal’s bed. He was her enemy. Sayed was dead, and it was Jamal’s fault.

“Is that all there is to the wager, my lord?” Zara asked suspiciously. She did not trust him.

“If you lose, if you take my manhood inside you,” Jamal continued evenly, “you will reside in my harem and come to me when I want you.”

Zara thought his proposition over carefully. Clearly Sheik Jamal had an inflated ego.

“I agree. But I can only lose the bet if I take your manhood inside me willingly. If you take me by force, or without my permission, you lose the bet. Am I correct?”

“So be it.”

“Will you answer a question for me?”

“What is it you wish to know?”

“Did you send me to the stables to pleasure your stable slaves?”

“What ever gave you that idea? You went to the stables because the sultan wanted you punished for your brazen behavior.” His brows came together in a black scowl as comprehension dawned. “Which of my slaves accosted you? Is that why you left the stables tonight?”

“You can’t blame them for thinking I was meant for their pleasure. Nothing was said to disabuse them of the notion that I was theirs for the taking.”

“What did they do to you?” Jamal asked fiercely. If they had touched her he would have their heads.

“Nothing … yet. Mustafa found a pitchfork in his face when he tried to force me. I told him you would punish him if he touched me.”

“And so I would have. You’ll sleep in my harem from now on. You’ll be safe there.”

“Safe?” she hooted. “It will be a simple matter for you to seduce me if I sleep in the harem. Nay, I will return to the stables with the other slaves, but you must tell them I am not to be touched.”

“Zara, my fierce Berber warrior,” Jamal said softly. “You are too proud for your own good. I will tame you yet, my fiery pearl.”

He stared at her mouth, lush and moist, and decided his seduction would start tonight. “Turn around, let me soap your back.” When she appeared reluctant to obey, he gently turned her and closed his legs around her so she couldn’t escape.

Dipping another glob of soap from the jar, he spread it over the elegant curve of her back, massaging the knobs of her spine with the pads of his fingers until she moaned; the pressure was wonderfully soothing after her hard day’s labor. Then she felt him squeezing her buttocks, his fingers slipping into the separation between the perfect halves, sliding between her thighs to tease the sensitive nub there, probing her opening.

Abruptly his hands fell away and he pushed her down into the water. “Rinse off.” She came up sputtering. Jamal grasped her beneath the arms and hauled her out of the water. She stood there shivering in the night air as he dried her with a soft linen cloth.

“I can do that myself,” Zara declared. When Jamal touched her, her body behaved strangely. She felt weightless, without substance. Her flesh tingled and burned; his touch set fires inside her. In order to win her freedom she had to gird herself against him, to remember that he was the enemy, else she’d end up in his bed.

“Allow me,” Jamal insisted. “Your skin is like silk. I wonder, do you taste as delicious as you look?”

Fearing he intended to find out, she backed away from him. But Jamal was not ready to let her go. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her through the open double doors into his chamber, placing her on his sleeping couch. His dark eyes glowed as he stared down at her. Light from the hanging oil lamp bathed her in gold dust and magic. Jamal trembled with desire.

“Don’t move,” Jamal whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Spellbound, Zara couldn’t have moved had she tried. In any event, she wouldn’t have gotten far. Jamal returned almost instantly with the vial of scented oil he had left beside the pool. She watched in trepidation as he poured a generous amount into his hands and sat down on the couch beside her.

“What are you going to do?”

“You’ll find out, just turn on your stomach and lie still.”

She turned with great reluctance on her stomach. Then she felt his hands on her. The heat of his skin had warmed the oil, and he spread it over her back, buttocks and legs, gently massaging her sore muscles. The relief was so intense, Zara could not stifle her groan of pleasure. Working in the stables had taken a toll upon her.

“Turn over,” Jamal whispered huskily.

“I don’t think—”

“Don’t think, just feel,” he said as he easily flipped her to her back. Then his hands worked the same kind of magic over her breasts, stomach and the front of her legs.

When he dipped his oiled fingers between her thighs, Zara stirred and murmured a weak protest. She was thoroughly enjoying the massage until his blatant sexual overture spoiled her pleasure.

Zara squealed in surprise when Jamal bent his head and kissed her breasts, first one then the other. He kneaded them, lifting them to his hungry mouth to suckle and lick. She whimpered when he bit gently upon a tender crest. Immediately he soothed it with the moist warmth of his tongue.

She shivered. The pleasure was sharp, almost unbearable, and dangerous. Losing the wager meant permanent captivity.

“Stop!”

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Jamal whispered. Then he drew one nipple deep into his mouth,
sucking vigorously as his hands stroked the length of her slick body.

“I won’t let you seduce me!” Zara cried, nearly mindless with pleasure. What she and Sayed had done together was child’s play compared to what Jamal was doing to her now.

Leaving the sweet enticement of her breasts, his mouth fastened onto hers, his tongue delving deeply, tasting of her. Nectar of the gods, he thought as he nibbled and sucked on her lips. But it was another set of pouting lips that drew his mouth downward. She shuddered uncontrollably as he traced a path to the glistening cleft between her legs.

“You taste of jasmine,” he said, referring to the scent he had used to massage her body.

Her hips rose off the couch, pleasure stabbing her as he tongued the tiny jewel between her legs. Suddenly he thrust two fingers into her inner wetness. She climaxed violently as his fingers thrust in and out of her.

While she lay recovering from the violent climax, Jamal rose above her. His sex was painfully distended, the tip wet with his juices. When he flexed his hips, Zara came to her senses, realizing her danger. She pushed against him so hard he landed on his rump on the floor. She leaped to her feet before he gained his wits, backing away from him, her green eyes blazing.

Jamal matched her anger as he picked himself off the floor and returned her glare.

“What made you think I’d let you seduce me so easily?” Zara asked. “I want my freedom.”

“I gave you pleasure,” Jamal said. “You let me
put my tongue and fingers inside you.”

“Did you give me a choice?”

“I could take you now if I wanted to. You are my slave. Slaves obey their masters.”

“Then you would lose the wager, my lord,” she said sweetly. “You are a man of your word, are you not?”

“I am a
man
. I can only be pushed so far. I’m obsessed with you, Zara. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want you. Four weeks, my fiery warrior. Count the days, for you will be mine long before that.”

He rose abruptly and pulled on his caftan. His erection was still full and heavy, his lust unassuaged. This kind of sexual frustration was foreign to him. When he wanted a woman all he had to do was ask and one would be available. His manhood had never known the kind of deprivation he was now experiencing.

Moving away from Jamal, Zara felt unspeakably vulnerable without her clothes. In the short time since their meeting, Jamal had learned her body more intimately than she knew it herself. It was humiliating.

“Give me back my clothes so I can to return to the stables.”

“You are unlike any woman I’ve ever known,” Jamal said sourly. Never had he met a more contrary female. Why wouldn’t she give herself to him? It wasn’t as if she were a shy virgin. She had enjoyed his loving, as far as it went. Did she still mourn her Berber lover? Not one to give up easily, Jamal renewed his vow to have Zara in his bed soon. He swore he would make it happen.

Zara hugged herself and shivered as Jamal rummaged through a chest containing an assortment of clothing. He found what he was looking for, handing her a white shirt, pantaloons and
djellaba
that must have belonged to him. She donned them quickly, rolling up the sleeves of the shirt and tightening the sash around her slim waist to hold up the trousers. Then she slipped the
djellaba
over her head.

“Come along,” Jamal said as he picked up the oil lamp and held it aloft.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m escorting you back to the stables. Your companions will be told in no uncertain terms that you’re not to be touched by them.”