Sheik (12 page)

“Have you been ill, my lord?” David asked as he lifted Jamal’s lids to examine his pupils.

“I am never ill,” Jamal said.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Jamal dutifully presented his tongue, wondering what it meant when David hummed in response to his examination.

“What is the last thing you remember?” David asked, rocking back on his heels.

Jamal closed his eyes and tried to recall last evening’s events. He smiled when he remembered making love to Zara. Suddenly his smile dissolved into a frown. Zara. What had happened to her? Had she returned to the harem?

“Well?” the doctor said impatiently. “I can tell by your smile that you recall something.”

“Aye. I was with Zara. I recall making love to her before everything went blank.”

“Did you eat or drink anything?”

“Nay … oh, aye, I drank a glass of apricot nectar.”

The humming sound grew louder as David searched the room for Jamal’s glass.

Suddenly it dawned on Jamal what the physician was hinting at. “You think I was poisoned?”

“Not poison, my lord. Ah, here it is,” he said, gathering splintered pieces of glass from the table and floor. He held a large piece up to the light. Then he tasted a tiny sample of the residue left on the surface. “I can’t be sure, but I think tests will prove that you’ve been drugged, my lord.”

“What! By whom? Who would do such a thing?”

“That I do not know, my lord. The drug wasn’t strong enough to do you permanent harm, but to be safe I’ll mix you up something to purge the remaining potion from your system. You have slept off the worst of it.”

The fuzziness began to clear from Jamal’s brain and his thinking process returned as a horrible thought struck him. Had Zara been given a similar drug? Was she even now sleeping off the effects? Was she ill? Then he recalled that when Hammet had awakened him, he had mentioned something about disturbing news. He trembled with unexplained fear. There was more here than met the eye and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

“Hammet!” His summons brought the eunuch instantly to his master’s bedside.

“I am here, my lord.”

“My trusted physician seems to think I was given a drug to make me sleep. What do you know about it?”

“I know nothing about the drug, my lord. I have failed you. Forgive me.”

“I do not hold you responsible. Have you seen Zara?” Jamal asked sharply. “I will send David to attend her. If she was fed the same drug, she could be ill. Her system isn’t as robust as mine.”

“Zara isn’t in the harem.” Hammet’s expression was sad but wary. His master’s temper was going to be formidable when he learned the full extent of his slave’s treachery. “Nafisa came to me early this morning, wanting to know if Zara was still with you. She wasn’t. I knew she had not left though the door, for I was sleeping on a pallet outside your chamber and would have heard her. She must have left through the courtyard.”

“Perhaps she’s in the
hammam
,” Jamal suggested hopefully. Hammet shook his head. “Did you check every room?”

“The entire palace, my lord.”

“The courtyard? The palace grounds?”

“Zara is gone, my lord. So is her father and all the Berber prisoners.”

Jamal reared up from bed and strode to the casket where he kept the key to Youssef’s prison. His swift intake of breath was the only indication of his rage. Inside the casket, resting on a bed of satin, was the emerald he had given Zara. It was damning evidence and all the proof he needed. He felt raw and betrayed. He’d been deceived by a Berber vixen who whored for her father. Those were harsh words, but Jamal could think of no other explanation for what Zara had done.

It hurt to realize that Zara had deliberately deceived
him. She had used his obsession for her, building his trust to the point that he was blinded to her devious intent. What a fool he’d been. What an utter, sentimental fool.

“I need a bath to wash the scent of that insidious little witch from my body,” Jamal ground out. “Summon Haroun. I will speak with him after I’ve bathed.”

“I will leave you, my lord,” David said as Hammet hurried to do Jamal’s bidding. “I can see that you no longer have need of me. The effects of the drug are all but gone from your system.” He bowed himself out of the chamber, leaving Jamal in a fine rage.

An hour later Jamal and Haroun were inspecting the small airless room that had once held Youssef. Jamal didn’t expect to find anything and wasn’t surprised when he caught a whiff of Zara’s special scent. He would recognize the fragrance anywhere. Jasmine. He’d had the scent specially formulated for Zara and had instructed Nafisa to use it exclusively on his beautiful slave. The memory of kissing, tasting and caressing Zara’s jasmine-scented flesh brought a fresh onslaught of pain. How could she have betrayed him like this? He would have married her; given her the world had she asked.

Nothing of value was learned from the sentry on duty the previous night, yet all the Berbers were gone. The man guarding the front gate swore no one had gone in or out after the gates were closed for the night. That left only the back gate. It was still locked but could be easily scaled.
A key was produced and Jamal stepped through the opening.

“Camel tracks, my lord,” Haroun said, calling Jamal’s attention to the large hoof prints on the ground beyond the gate. “Our men do not ride camels, and caravans do not come this close to the walls even if they did venture into the oasis. This is a well-planned and executed escape, my lord.”

“Aye,” Jamal mused thoughtfully. “Had I not been so obsessed with Zara I would have taken precautions. I was willing to lie to Ishmail for the Berber witch. Never again, Haroun, my friend. When I find Zara I will not play the besotted fool again. I refuse to become a victim to her feminine wiles.”

“Do you intend to go after her?” Haroun asked, surprised by Jamal’s obsession with Zara. What was one woman when there were so many?

“Wild horses couldn’t stop me,” Jamal said tautly. “Zara betrayed me and must pay the consequences. Selling her to the slave trader would be a fitting punishment for a traitor such as she.”

The words were spoken in haste. Despite the blow to his pride, Jamal would never send Zara to the slave market.

“Shall I provision the men for a long search, my lord? The Blue Men are wily foe. No doubt Youssef has already left his village for the mountains. Berbers can move their black tents from place to place faster than we can ferret them out.”

“We will find them, Haroun. Zara will learn she cannot play me for a fool. She yielded her body sweetly, but her mind and heart remained unfettered
by any emotion save dedication to the Berber cause. If I hadn’t been so besotted, I would have seen through her. Zara deceived and tricked me into believing she could be trusted.”

What Jamal didn’t say was that he had come to care for Zara more than he had ever cared for another woman save his dear mother.

“When do we leave, my lord? We are short on supplies, but that can be remedied within a day or two.”

“Be prepared to ride in three days, Haroun. As much as it shames me, the sultan must be informed about what has taken place here. He is not going to be happy.”

“Will you tell Ishmail the truth?” Haroun asked.

“Aye, I must. I have kept Ishmail in the dark about Youssef for Zara’s sake, but now there is no longer reason to do so.”

“Ishmail will be angry.”

“I will placate him with promises of future plunder from my pirating ventures. Go now, Haroun, do what must be done to prepare my men-at-arms.”

Jamal was still fuming when he returned to his chamber. He shooed away the servants who were cleaning his room and began to pace, still too upset to prepare for his departure. Everything in the room reminded him of Zara. Her jasmine scent filled his nostrils. He gazed at the cushions arranged upon his couch and visualized her as she had been the night before, her naked body writhing upon them, her tight sheath wet and eager for
the attentions of his hands, mouth, tongue and manhood.

How could he have been so trusting? How could Zara have fooled him so completely? Because he had been too besotted to see the truth, he told himself. Allah help him, he’d even fancied himself in love with the Berber vixen. He would recapture her, he vowed, and when he did he would never indulge her again. She would become just another slave in his household, to be used or discarded as he willed. If he wanted her sexually, he’d take her. No one made a fool of Jamal abd Thabit twice.

Youssef, the Blue Men and Zara were given a jubilant welcome upon their return to their village. A great celebration was planned but quickly squelched when Youssef explained their need to leave the village and hide in the mountains. Men, women and children spent the next day packing provisions and belongings onto the backs of sturdy camels. The mountains offered the kind of safe haven that the village could not. Living in tents had its advantages. They could be dismantled and erected at a moment’s notice.

Zara joined the exodus the following day, riding upon the back of her racing camel as the slower beasts of burden followed behind. Zara rode like the wind, free at last, relishing the hot breeze and the sun against her face, wearing the clothing she preferred, the blue robes of her people. But Zara was not at peace. Her heart was troubled.

Jamal.

He had taught her the joys of loving and being loved. She didn’t have to be experienced to know that Jamal was not a selfish lover. He always made sure she received pleasure before taking his own.

He had asked her to marry him, and she had betrayed him.

Allah forgive her. How could she marry the enemy? Yet the thought of living the rest of her life without Jamal was excessively painful. No matter how hard she tried to hate the handsome sheik, she always arrived at the same conclusion.

She could never hate Jamal.

She might even …

Love him.

Chapter Eleven

Zara walked with dragging steps to her father’s tent. Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes dull from lack of sleep. The deep purple smudges beneath her lids attested to the turmoil raging within her. Her mind told her that deceiving Jamal had been the right thing to do, yet her heart wept. She had done a despicable thing to Jamal, but she’d had no choice. Her father had faced death, she’d been enslaved, and to add to her misery, she had had to fight a growing attraction to her avowed enemy.

A week had passed since she had drugged Jamal and escaped with her father and the Blue Men. A week during which she felt like a stranger among her own people. She was sure that everyone knew she had bargained for Youssef’s freedom with her body. Though her sacrifice wasn’t
mentioned openly, Zara sensed her people’s pity and did not want it.

Jamal had made her his in the most basic way, taken her body and given unstintingly of his own. He had given her a glimpse of rapture and surprised her by suggesting she become his wife. He had admitted to being besotted with her and wanting to take her with him aboard his ship. She had repaid his high regard for her by drugging him. How he must hate her.

But the true cause of her sleepless nights was the inescapable knowledge that she had become too fond of the dangerous, sensual Sheik Jamal. He had but to touch her and she turned to ash, burning hotter, brighter than the most torrid fire.

Youssef greeted Zara exuberantly when she slipped through the tent flap. “Ah, daughter, I’m glad you’ve come. Did you see Mohammed ride into camp a short time ago?”

Zara nodded. Mohammed’s presence in their camp was the reason for her visit to her father’s tent. She knew Mohammed was their spy in Meknes.

“Rumor has it that the richest caravan in recent years is en route from Marrakech to Meknes,” Youssef continued. “The cargo is comprised of tribute and taxes from the south, intended for the sultan’s coffers.”

Zara’s spirits rose. “Are we to raid again, Father?” Taking part in a raid was exactly what she needed to banish thoughts of the man who had made her his love slave and stolen her heart.

“Aye, daughter, as soon as the caravan is located. It was supposed to have left Marrakech
two days ago. Since we need to pinpoint its precise location, I’m riding out at dawn tomorrow to follow the caravan route until I locate it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Zara said, eager to do something, anything, to keep her mind and body occupied.

“Not this time, Zara. I’ve already picked a dozen men to accompany me. Rest assured you’ll be at my side when we attack, but I prefer that you remain in camp this time. You will act as leader in my absence. You are as fierce and loyal as any of my men.”

Puffed up by Youssef’s words, Zara said, “I will not fail you, Father. Do you truly think danger exists?”

Youssef searched her face. “Aye. You have humiliated the sheik, Zara. He is not a man to trifle with. You’ve hurt his pride. I fear he will not rest until he finds us, and I pray he is not successful. His vengeance will be swift and violent.”

“We are constantly on the move,” Zara contended. “I think you exaggerate the danger from Jamal.”

Youssef’s dark eyes grew pained. “’Tis no secret Jamal wants you, Zara. Drugging him and then fleeing was an insult he will not tolerate. He will search for us, but I feel reasonably certain we are safe for the time being. After we’ve relieved the sultan’s caravan of its riches, we will move deeper into the mountains.”

“How long will you be gone, Father?”

Youssef shrugged. “I’m not sure. Perhaps a week, certainly no longer. Once we locate the caravan we will know when and where to attack. ’Tis
important that we know how many guards are assigned to the caravan.”

“Do you have any instructions for me?”

“I have faith in your ability to lead the men should the need arise, daughter.”

“That means a great deal to me,” Zara said. She turned to leave but Youssef’s hand upon her arm stopped her.

“Let us speak frankly, Zara. I can see you are unhappy. Is it because of Jamal? I know that having to submit to him was demeaning for you and I blame myself for your sacrifice, but I did not demand it of you. If you wish it, I will find and kill him.”

“Nay, Father!” Zara cried, horrified at the notion of Jamal’s death. “My sacrifice was for our people.” Though in truth it was no sacrifice, she wanted to add. “Jamal did not harm me,” she admitted. “He was gentle even though I repeatedly tested his temper.”

“One day,” Youssef predicted, “there will be a confrontation between me and Jamal, and I cannot promise the outcome will be to your liking.” His eyes narrowed. “What has the foul beast done to earn your regard, daughter? How can you harbor a fondness for the man responsible for the death of your betrothed? The man ravished you!”

Zara flushed. “I despise Jamal, Father,” she lied. “I just wish I hadn’t had to resort to subterfuge to gain our freedom.”

“Very well. Go then, daughter, and see to the security of the camp. I will leave tomorrow at first light.”

*        *        *

Jamal and his men-at-arms found no trace of Youssef and the Blue Men despite having scoured the mountains and foothills for several days.

“It is hopeless, Jamal,” Haroun said, giving his shaggy head a weary shake. “The mountains are too vast, the hiding places too many. We’ll never find Youssef.”

“I’ll find him,” Jamal said with grim determination. “I promised Ishmail Youssef’s head and, Allah willing, I’ll bring it to him.”

“Admit it, my lord, you’re more interested in Youssef’s daughter than you are in Youssef.”

“Zara played me for a fool, Haroun. I was besotted with her and she deceived me. Aye, admittedly I want her, but only to punish her and for naught else. ’Tis the first time a woman has humiliated me, and it does not sit well with me.”

Haroun recalled what Jamal had said about sending Zara to the slave market and vowed to see it done if he ever got his hands on the feckless Berber bitch. “You were fortunate to escape punishment when the sultan learned you had Youssef and let him escape. Ishmail is not an easy man to placate.”

“I promised him all the plunder from my next pirating expedition instead of a percentage,” Jamal said, recalling the sultan’s violent outburst when he’d been told of Youssef’s escape.

“How soon will we sail?” Haroun asked, thinking of Saha and how he’d hate leaving her behind. It hadn’t taken long for the concubine to learn that he was a strict and demanding master, that he would not tolerate disobedience. She was quick to realize that she was now the property of
a simple soldier. After a beating or two he couldn’t have asked for a more passionate mistress. He was nearly as besotted with Saha as Jamal was with his Berber princess.

“’Tis only a matter of time before we return to sea,” Jamal said with a shrug. “How soon depends on when we find Youssef and his wily daughter.”

“It grows dark, shall we make camp?”

“See to it, Haroun. I’m going to ride ahead to see what lies beyond the next rise. Youssef’s camp has to be somewhere in these mountains, and the longer it takes to find it, the angrier the sultan becomes.”

Zara gave the order that no campfires be lit in her father’s absence. Meals were to be cooked over small braziers that did not light up the night.

Youssef had been gone two days and thus far all had been quiet. Two blue-robed men walked the perimeter of the camp, guarding against a surprise attack, though Zara doubted Jamal was anywhere in the vicinity. There had been no attacks upon the sultan’s caravans since she and her father had escaped, and she hoped the sultan had been gulled into thinking that no more raids would take place.

Zara retired to her tent, satisfied that all was well. Unfortunately, sleep was a luxury that had been denied her of late. The moment she closed her eyes, her vivid memory returned her to those erotic nights spent in Jamal’s arms. Drenched in sweat, she tossed and turned and flung off the blankets, growing wet in all those places Jamal
had caressed and kissed. Her body ached for his touch; she trembled with the disturbing need to know his loving again.

Zara tried to shut down her thinking process but failed miserably. Jamal had taught her body to want him and she had proved an apt pupil. How he must hate her, she reflected. He must feel humiliated and hurt. If she ever fell into his hands again, he would make her life miserable. A proud man like Jamal would surely retaliate for being made a fool of. She trembled at the thought of Jamal’s swift justice and implored Allah to keep her out of the sheik’s hands.

Standing on a ridge above the Berber camp, Jamal held his hand over his horse’s muzzle and peered down. He’d been surprised when he stumbled upon the camp a short time ago.

Jamal watched for perhaps thirty minutes before he had all the information he needed to launch a pre-dawn surprise attack. He and his men would surround the Berber stronghold, silence the two sentries and capture the entire tribe while they slept. Allah was good. Soon he’d have the cunning Berber vixen back in his possession where she belonged.

Zara slept fitfully. She awoke in the wee hours before dawn, her body tense, her senses tingling with foreboding. All was quiet. Nothing seemed amiss. The night was dark and moonless; not a shadow was visible in the murky blackness. She shifted upon her pallet of furs and tried to explain her disquiet. There was nothing to fear, she told
herself. The black tents were all but invisible against a backdrop of black sky and dark mountains, and Zara chided herself for being fanciful. The sentries were reliable and no alarm had been given.

A camel snorted and Zara stiffened. When the sound wasn’t repeated, she allowed herself to relax. She was being foolish, she told herself, feeling fear where there was nothing to fear. As it was still too early to rise, she closed her eyes and forced herself to doze.

Outside in the yawning darkness, Jamal and his men surrounded the black tents. The guards had been easily dispatched and were left unconscious and bound by the camel pen, where four of Jamal’s men were endeavoring to keep the camels quiet. Jamal remained watchful as his men silently crept into all the tents save one, which Jamal had saved for himself. In a bloodless, silent coup, Jamal’s men had subdued the sleeping Berbers and herded them together inside a large tent.

Jamal gazed at the untouched tent, aware that it was the one in which Zara slept. He knew because he had questioned one of the sentries before knocking him unconscious.

“The camp is secure, Jamal,” Haroun reported. “The sentry was right. Youssef is not here. Half the male members of the tribe are gone. We captured mostly women and children.”

“I do not make war upon women and children,” Jamal said, furious at having missed Youssef. “Guard them well, my friend. After my business
with Zara is concluded, I will issue further orders.” He glanced toward Zara’s tent. “See that I am not disturbed.”

Zara sat up amid the rumpled bedclothes, her breath hammering in her chest. Something was wrong, she knew it. The eerie silence was not normal. She started violently when she felt a hard hand on her shoulder. Whipping her head around, she saw a shadowy figure hovering over her. She reached for the knife beside her pillow, but the intruder was too fast for her. He kicked it away before she could grasp it.

Her voice rose on a note of panic. “Who are you? What do you want?” She tried to rise.

A light flared and Jamal’s hand tightened upon Zara’s narrow shoulder, sending her a silent warning. She winced but did not cry out; pain was not new to her. Then, in the flickering light of the lamp she saw his face and knew real fear.

Jamal hauled Zara to her feet, bringing them nose to nose. “It is I, sweet vixen, your worst nightmare come to life.”

“Jamal! Allah help me. How did you—”

“Beseech Allah all you want, Zara, He will not help you.”

“I have but to scream to bring men to my aid.”

Jamal laughed. The sound was far from comforting. “Your men are my prisoners.
My
men are in control.”

“The sentries—”

“Have been taken care of. My one regret is that Youssef is not here. But fear not, he cannot remain at large forever. The sultan has placed a hefty price upon his head.”

Zara searched his face, visible now in the awakening dawn. His eyes were cold and emotionless, his face hard and relentlessly unforgiving. Her chin rose slightly. No matter what he had planned for her, she would not beg for mercy. She had betrayed him, and for that he meant to punish her. He would never know that she had not escaped unscathed. During her weeks of captivity she had discovered hidden depths of emotion for her handsome captor. He had ignited fires inside her that still burned hotly.

“You will never capture Father. He is too smart for you.”

Jamal smiled without mirth. “But I have his daughter. You brought him to me once and will do so again.” His gaze slid the length of her with insulting intensity. “Take off your clothes, Zara.”

“What!”

“Now, sweet vixen. Haroun will make certain we’re not interrupted.”

“If this is your way of punishing me—”

“Punish you?” He laughed harshly. “You think bedding me is punishment? Is that how you felt each time you lay with me? Was it such a chore? You are an accomplished actress, sweet vixen. I could have sworn you swooned from ecstasy in my arms. You even learned to enjoy the silver balls and the special kind of pleasure they gave you. You cannot lie to me, Zara.”

Zara wanted to deny everything but couldn’t. She hated to be reminded of her wild, responsive nature where Jamal was concerned. It nettled her to recall how she’d begged him to come inside her, to take her to Paradise. She had pretended
nothing. Everything she’d felt had been very real.

“It was all pretense,” Zara lied. “Hate me if you must, but I did what I had to do for my father and my people.”

“You whored for your father!” Jamal charged angrily. How dare she deny all those feelings they’d shared? How dare she renounce the emotional involvement that made their loving so special?

Zara tried not to cringe beneath his implacable rage. “It wasn’t like that. I’m not a whore.”