Sheik (13 page)

“You are now. You’re my whore. Are you going to remove your clothing or must I do it for you?”

Zara glanced toward the closed tent flap. “Don’t even think it, sweet vixen. My men are everywhere.” He tore off his
djellaba
and then reached for her. His hands were swift and sure as he ripped apart the fine linen shirt she wore and tossed it aside. In the dim light of early morning her breasts gleamed like pale alabaster. Next he attacked her baggy pantaloons, tearing them to shreds in his eagerness to see her naked.

When she was completely nude, he stepped back in silent admiration, his anger slowly dissipating. “Allah knows I want to hate you,” he told her. “You beguiled me with your sweet body in order to gain my trust. Your punishment must be as painful as your deceit.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Zara said, licking moisture onto her dry lips. “But I don’t regret my actions. My father’s life is more important than my own.”

“Whore,” Jamal said, attacking his own clothing with impatience. His shirt flew across the tent. “I want you, Zara. I want you to remember
how my hands feel upon your sweet flesh, how my mouth tastes, the feel of my lips caressing all those places that drive you wild.”

Zara closed her eyes. As if she needed to be reminded her of the way he’d made her feel. From the moment she’d left Jamal, she’d thought of little else. Why couldn’t their lives be less complicated? Why weren’t they able to love freely, without guilt? Why did they have to be on opposite sides?

“You hate me. Why do you want me?” Zara asked as he pulled her against him.

“The line between hate and love is frequently too finely drawn to distinguish one from the other,” he said cryptically. “Be thankful I’m merely bedding you instead of demanding your life.”

With lithe, pantherlike grace he eased her down on the pallet of fur. A dangerous half-smile curled his lips as he reared up and looked at her. His expression was one of unswerving masculinity, unrelenting determination. His gaze raked over her. The lush length of her body held him enthralled. Her breasts were soft and full, her nipples dark cherry temptations. The plump pink mound of her womanhood was already weeping for him.

His gaze unsettled her. She recognized the fierce glitter in his eyes only too well. How could he do this to her again? How could he make her want him by merely looking at her?

Sparks of rebellion burst inside her. “Allah take your soul! Do not touch me!”

“Ah, but I will do more than touch you, sweet
vixen. Before I am through with you, you will call me master.”

“Nay!” she cried. “I am no man’s slave.”

“Are you not? You are my slave and my whore.”

He brought her hard against him, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest. His shaft prodded against her stomach. His mouth came down hard on hers and the world spun away.

His mouth never left hers as he stripped off his boots and pantaloons. Then he drove his hands through the heavy mass of her blond hair, holding her head steady as he continued to ravage her with soul-destroying kisses. The sound coming from her throat seemed more like a moan than a protest as his tongue thrust between her teeth. He kissed her roughly, fiercely.

Suddenly his mouth parted from hers and he stared at her, his eyes burning into her soul. “I could kill you and no one would stop me.”

She sifted through his words in a haze of desire. “Do it then, Jamal. Kill me and be done with it.”

“Allah help me, I cannot.” His voice was husky with emotion. “But I will never trust you again.”

Gathering her courage, Zara said, “You feel something for me, Jamal, I know you do.” It was a mistake.

His features turned to stone. “You will cease telling me what I feel and don’t feel. You will obey me. All I want from you is your body and the pleasure it gives me. You will spread your legs when I ask it of you and surrender willingly. When you begin to bore me I will send you to the slave market
and let a new master deal with you.”

Zara’s mouth fell open. Was that to be her fate? Would she be displayed upon a slave block like a piece of meat and sold to the highest bidder? She did not think Jamal could be so cruel.

Zara could think of no answer. In fact, her mind went blank as Jamal pushed her breasts together and rubbed his face in the cleft, then thrust between them with his tongue. His mouth found a ripe nipple. He rolled it between his teeth, sucked it into his mouth and drew deeply upon it. Little mewling sounds escaped her mouth as her hands moved unbidden over the hard, taut muscles of his back and buttocks.

“Once again you seduce me with your soft, sweet body and greedy mouth and hands,” Jamal whispered against her lips. “You’re dangerous, sweet vixen.”

Her skin was flushed and damp, her mouth looked swollen and pillaged from his kisses. He stared into the vivid green pools of her eyes and felt as if he were drowning. Though he knew he must be dreaming, he imagined that her eyes held the soft, dreamy look of love. He blinked, banishing the image. He was nothing but a besotted fool who hadn’t learned his lesson. Zara didn’t love him. She had used his obsession with her to deceive him. She cared nothing for him. The only truth was lust. There was no pretense in the way her body responded to him. She craved what he could give her, and that was no lie.

“You forced me to act as I did,” Zara said. “Becoming your love slave was never my intention. I rebuffed your every attempt to bed me until my
father became your captive. I did what I had to do in order to free him.”

“Deceitful vixen,” Jamal whispered against her lips. “Your wishes no longer matter to me. ’Tis my needs you’ll cater to from now on. Spread your legs and receive your master.”

She heaved against him with such force that he was nearly bucked off her. “Son of a goat! Cur! You were never my master.”

She raised her hand to strike him but he seized her wrists, holding them together with one hand and pulling them above her head. He covered her bucking body with his, subduing her with his sheer strength.

“Not true, sweet vixen. I mastered you the first time you took me inside you.”

Their bodies were meshed together, legs entwined, her breasts flattened against his chest. His staff was hard and heavy and painfully engorged. She could lie all she wanted about not craving him, but he knew different. To prove his point, he spread her thighs with his knees and thrust deep, embedding himself to the hilt. He groaned as the scorching heat of her surrounded him, welcomed him. He was so ready he could have climaxed immediately. But a perverse demon inside him refused to allow that.

Satisfying Zara had always been a large part of his own pleasure. He had intended to take her roughly, quickly, without any consideration for her pleasure, but the moment he slid inside her he realized he wanted Zara to feel the same sublime rapture he did. No matter what she had done to him, cruelty was not an option where Zara was
concerned. He flexed his hips and began to move slowly, penetrating deeply, bringing a surprised gasp from her parted lips as he brought his hands and mouth into play.

His long, talented fingers stroked and caressed her buttocks as his mouth sucked and licked her nipples. His breathing turned harsh and rasping and his hips jerked harder, faster, taking Zara along with him into a world of bursting stars and exploding planets.

“Come, sweet vixen,” Jamal panted into her ear. “Come for me now.”

Abruptly he turned her, bringing her on top of him, forcing a deeper penetration. Zara screamed as Jamal touched the tiny jewel between her legs, hurtling her over the edge, into a swirling pool of raw sensation. Jamal shouted his pleasure and followed her to a rapturous climax.

He stayed in her a long time. Until he’d grown completely soft. Until his heartbeat slowed to a steady thunder and his lungs began to take in air once again. Until the scattered pieces of his body returned to normal.

“Do you still deny that I am your master?” Jamal asked with lazy amusement. “Your body obeys my every command without question.”

She gave him a look of wounded outrage, then turned her face away. “Unhand me. You have done your worst. Now leave me alone.”

“Done my worst?” Jamal repeated with a snarl. “Nay, sweet vixen, I’ve done my best. I had meant to take you swiftly, without giving you pleasure, but I am too soft-hearted to leave you wanting. It
may not always be this way, so enjoy it while you can.”

He was growing hard again; he could feel himself swelling inside her. She must have felt it too, for she tried to roll off him. His arms came around her like a vise, holding her captive against him.

“Nay, not again,” Zara cried, her eyes growing wide with alarm. It wasn’t unusual for him to take her more than once a night, but he generally rested between each bout of loving.

“Aye, again, sweet vixen.” He grasped her hips and placed her beside him on her stomach. Before she could move he was over her, lifting her to her knees so he could enter her feminine passage from behind. “This way leaves my hands free to fondle you.” His breath was hot upon her neck, his hands molding her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples. Then he thrust inside her.

Zara arched her back, thinking with the last rational bit of her brain that Jamal was right. He had mastered her body even as her mind rejected what he was doing to her. With wretched awareness she realized that no man but Jamal had the power to bend her to his will. It was a frightening thought. She wanted to be more than a slave to him, but fate and circumstances were working against her. Jamal would never entertain tender feelings for her. He hated her.

Her thinking process broke down when Jamal’s thrusting grew frenzied. They raced unheedingly toward the stars and reached them simultaneously.

Throughout that long morning Jamal loved her
yet another time before calling for food. Then he loved her again. Afterward he ordered Zara to dress, then he flung open the tent flap and called for Haroun. While he waited for his lieutenant, he pulled on his own clothing. Zara was fully dressed and awaiting her fate when Haroun entered the tent a short time later.

“Take the prisoners to the slave market in Fez,” Jamal ordered shortly.

“The women and children, too?”

“Nay. Leave them. They’re too much trouble.” He hated the thought of mothers and children being separated, which was bound to happen if they were put on the block. “Take half the men-at-arms and leave the rest here with me. I’m going after Youssef. I probably won’t catch the wily bastard but I have to try. After you have delivered the prisoners, return to Paradise. I will join you as soon as I can.”

Haroun’s eyes slid to Zara. “What about
her
, Jamal? What do you want done with the Berber witch?”

Jamal’s eyes darkened with an emotion he was hard pressed to explain, so he didn’t even try. “Take her from my sight. I gave her my trust and she betrayed me.”

Without further ado, Haroun grasped Zara’s arm and pulled her from the tent. In Haroun’s opinion Jamal couldn’t have made his wishes clearer. He recalled the day Jamal had spoken of sending Zara to the slave market. As far as Haroun knew, Jamal hadn’t changed his mind. It never dawned on Haroun that Jamal wanted Zara taken to Paradise, to await his return. It was Haroun’s
personal opinion that Jamal was better off without the Berber bitch. Haroun hoped Zara would be sold to a man who would beat her into submission. Jamal was too good a man to suffer betrayal at the hands of a woman. With Allah’s help, Haroun intended to see justice done.

“Where are you taking me?” Zara asked when she was hoisted upon a horse.

“’Tis Jamal’s wish that you be taken to the slave market and sold.”

“Nay, Jamal would not—”

But he would, Zara thought, swallowing the rest of her sentence. Jamal hated her. By his standards her fate was a just one.

Chapter Twelve

Zara glanced around her opulent surroundings with a sinking heart. She was one of several women being held in Kadeem el Haka’s harem, awaiting the slave auction, which was to be held on the next market day. Haroun had wasted little time in delivering her and the other prisoners to the slave master in Fez. A deal was quickly struck, and Haroun accepted the money in Jamal’s name and hastened to Paradise to await Jamal’s return.

Zara and other women in the harem had been fed, bathed, pampered and dressed in rich silks and brocades. Obviously these women were intended for their masters’ beds, to be indulged and spoiled and treated like possessions. Was that the fate Jamal intended for her? Zara wondered. Allah help her should another man lay hands on
her. She would fight tooth and nail and gladly suffer the consequences.

With nothing to do but eat and sleep, Zara had too much time to think. She recalled Jamal’s anger when he’d sent her away with Haroun. His smile had been cold and dangerous and did not reach his dark, glittering eyes. And it broke her heart. He had made love to her with such overwhelming tenderness, such caring, she hadn’t wanted to believe that his intention all along had been to sell her.

Zara listened to snippets of conversation around her and was amused at how her thoughts differed from those of her lovely companions. While she longed for open spaces and mountains, they dreamed of pleasing a rich master, one who would indulge their every whim and shower them with gifts. They aspired no higher than to become a love slave, but she abhorred being treated as an object, letting men rule her life.

Blondes, brunettes, redheads. Plump, thin, fat. The women prattled on while Zara closed her mind to all but her own misery. Had Jamal found her father? she wondered. Somehow she doubted it. Youssef was a wily desert fighter who knew how to avoid capture.

Suddenly the curtains to the harem parted and Kadeem stepped through. The chattering women fell silent, staring at the man who held their fate in his hands. Kadeem was short, obese and richly dressed in colorful robes of silk and satin. He wore a ring on each thick finger and several gold chains around his fat neck. His dense black beard
covered a weak chin, and his eyes looked too small for his round face. He smiled with pleasure and rubbed his palms together as he surveyed his harem of lovelies.

“I hope you’re enjoying your stay, ladies,” he said obsequiously. “Soon you will all have new masters.” His words were met with titters. “My customers are all rich and powerful men, so you can be assured of masters who will keep you in luxury.”

Zara gave an unladylike snort. Camel driver or potentate, all men were vile pigs interested in their own pleasure. She had thought Jamal was different, but ultimately he’d proved her wrong. He’d used her and then discarded her with careless disregard. Why couldn’t he understand why she had acted as she had? Had he been
her
prisoner, he’d have done everything in his power to escape.

Zara looked up to find Kadeem standing over her, hands on hips, a scowl darkening his swarthy features. “You laughed, lady. Do you not wish for a rich master?”

“I want no master,” Zara proclaimed. “Slavery does not appeal to me.”

Kadeem sneered. “Now I know why your former master sold you so cheaply, Berber wench. You have a sharp tongue. I will encourage your new master to use the bastinado on you. If he does not, I fear he will end up cutting out your tongue. When you are on the slave block you will curb your insolence or surfer the consequences, do you understand?”

Zara didn’t think she’d ever understand the
need for women to submit meekly to men, but she wisely held her tongue. When the time came, she’d show her new master that she was not easily tamed, nor would she submit willingly.

When Zara did not reply, Kadeem seemed satisfied. Purposely ignoring Zara, whom he considered too troublesome, he chose a plump redhead to warm his bed that night. The woman went along submissively, though her expression denied her willingness. Unfortunately, she had no choice. Zara thanked Allah that Kadeem did not favor her.

Four days in Kadeem’s harem seemed like an eternity. To Zara’s vast relief, Kadeem passed over her each time he returned to the harem to choose his companion for the night. A time or two he seemed on the verge of selecting her, but her mutinous expression must have changed his mind.

Finally it was time for the auction. All the women were bathed, massaged, dressed in diaphanous garments, perfumed and groomed to perfection. Though Zara did not accept her fate, she decided to bide her time and plan an escape when her situation improved. She had escaped from Jamal, hadn’t she?

Jamal returned to Paradise in the worst of moods. He hadn’t been able to run down Youssef. The man was craftier than a fox. He seemed to know every hiding place in the Rif mountains and used them to his advantage. After three days of combing arid land and towering mountains, Jamal decided to return to Paradise.

To Jamal’s chagrin, it was the promise of Zara’s sweet body that lured him back home. At least he hoped it was merely her body he wanted. He must not forget that Zara had used him. She was deceitful and sly. But Allah help him, he still wanted her.

Haroun hurried to meet Jamal when he spied the sheik riding through the gates. “Welcome home, Jamal. Was Allah kind to you? Did you find Youssef?”

Jamal gave a snort of disgust. “The man is like a chameleon; he changes colors to blend into his surroundings. Once again he has escaped me.”

Haroun frowned. “The sultan will not be pleased. Have you reported to him yet?”

“Nay, I was anxious to return home. Did you follow my orders concerning the prisoners?”

“Aye, they will be sold at the next slave auction. Kadeem el Haka was well pleased. Healthy males are in high demand. As for the woman—”

Jamal went still, his mind refusing to accept the implication of Haroun’s words. “What woman? You were ordered to leave the women and children behind.”

Haroun’s dark face assumed a puzzled look. Was Jamal toying with him? A thought that did not bear entertaining entered his mind. “The women and children
were
left behind, my lord. All but one.”

Haroun watched the color drain from Jamal’s swarthy features and he stepped back in alarm. Allah help him! What had he done?

“Zara! Where is Zara?” Jamal’s voice held a note of terror. And something else. Something
that sent fear racing through Haroun.

“Forgive me if I have done wrong, my lord. You said to take Zara away and I did as you asked. Zara and the Blue Men were sold to the slave master in Fez.”

“Allah curse you!” Jamal cried, shaking his fist at Haroun. “It was never my intention to sell Zara. You were to bring her here to await my return.”

Haroun fell to his knees, his arms raised in supplication. He’d never borne the brunt of Jamal’s temper but had witnessed the punishment of those who displeased him. “You spoke of selling Zara. I assumed it was what you wished. The Berber wench deserved to be punished for drugging you, and I thought you wanted to be rid of her. I had no way of knowing you jested, that you still wanted her. Forgive me, my lord.”

Jamal stared at Haroun, his anger fearsome to behold. Zara was gone. Her sweet body and lush lips were no longer his to kiss and caress. A new master would own her, a man who would never appreciate her passion as he did. He had nurtured that passion, cultivated and sustained it by giving her unparalleled rapture.

Struggling for control, Jamal asked, “When is the auction to be held? For your sake, I pray it hasn’t already taken place.”

Haroun swallowed convulsively. “Tomorrow, my lord. The slave auction is held on market day, which is Thursday.”

Jamal spit out a curse. “That doesn’t leave me much time to reach Fez. Go to the village and purchase a racing camel from the camel trader.
Camels have more stamina than any of my Arabian horses. They can endure a fast pace for prolonged periods and require less water. Hurry, Haroun. I wish to leave within the hour.”

Haroun rushed to follow Jamal’s orders. His horse was nearby and he leaped into the saddle and galloped through the gate toward the village. He found Rashid the camel trader with little difficulty.

“Quickly, I wish to purchase your fastest racing camel for Sheik Jamal,” Haroun said, pulling a bag of money from his belt. “Name your price.”

“Does the sheik intend a long journey?” Rashid asked shrewdly. He knew that Jamal had gone in search of Zara and Youssef and returned empty-handed. His spies had brought word of Jamal’s return even as Jamal was speaking with his lieutenant.

“You ask too many questions. Just choose the camel and name the price.”

“If a long journey is intended, then this camel will do,” Rashid said, pointing to a rangy animal resting nearby. “But if ’tis speed the sheik requires, then I would recommend a different type animal.”

“Speed, man, speed. The sheik needs to reach Fez as swiftly as possible. I have done a terrible thing. I took his favorite to the slave market and now he wants her back.”

“Ah, you speak of the slave Zara, do you not?”

Realizing he had spoken out of turn, Haroun said, “’tis of no consequence. Which camel do you recommend?”

“This one for speed.” Rashid picked up the
leading reins of a sleek, dun-colored animal and handed it to Haroun, naming an outrageous price.

Haroun muttered to himself as he counted out the money. “You drive a hard bargain. If I wasn’t in a hurry I would haggle, but Jamal is waiting and I have already incurred his anger.”

Haroun mounted his horse and rode off with the camel in tow. Rashid waited until he was gone before calling to his assistant to take over. Then he selected another camel, an animal every bit as fast as the one he’d sold to Haroun, and sped away from the oasis.

Jamal rode like the wind. He traveled alone, racing toward Fez as if the Devil were chasing him. He rode until darkness and the mountainous terrain made it too dangerous to continue. He stopped and lay down beside the camel, snatching a few hours’ sleep, till the light of dawn allowed him to carry on. Fez was still a long way off, and he beseeched Allah to let him reach Zara in time.

Zara wasn’t the first slave to be led to the slave block. Kadeem was saving her for last. She had been bathed and dressed in provocative clothing. Transparent pantaloons hugged her hips, then flared out and clasped her ankles with jeweled bands. The short silk jacket barely covered her breasts, baring her entire midriff. Her nipples had been rouged and were clearly visible beneath the thin material. More of her anatomy was revealed than concealed, and she trembled with
fury at being made the object of men’s lust.

Zara watched from a holding area as the men were led out and sold first. Then it was the women’s turn to be offered for sale. With growing horror Zara saw prospective buyers come forward to inspect the women intimately, stroking their breasts, testing the texture and smoothness of their flesh, touching them in places that brought raucous laughter from the men and titters from the women. The physical inspection was embarrassing and utterly demeaning.

Most of the women were ordered to remove their clothing, to pose nude before their would-be masters. Some didn’t seem to mind, turning their bodies in ways that showed them to the best advantage. Those women were quickly sold amid brisk bidding and carted off by their new masters. A fair crowd still remained when Zara was finally brought forth.

Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the crowd as Zara took her place on the slave block. Her blank expression gave no hint of her terror as she stared straight ahead, making eye contact with no one.

“Show us her breasts!” a man in the front of the crowd demanded.

Kadeem stepped in front of Zara, ready to snatch away the meager scrap of material covering her breasts. But the fierce look in her eyes momentarily stayed his hand. He did not note the direction of Zara’s gaze.

Zara was staring at the curved knife Kadeem wore at his waist. As the slave master stepped in front of her, blocking her from view, she acted
instinctively, without regard for the consequences. Her hand moved so quickly, Kadeem didn’t realize she had freed his blade until he felt it pressing against his groin. He froze, his eyes locking with Zara’s, and guessed from her determined expression that the fierce Berber wouldn’t hesitate to emasculate him.

His worst fears were confirmed when Zara snarled, “Touch me, Arab pig, and I’ll slice off your balls and stuff them in your mouth.”

Kadeem began to sweat profusely. “What do you hope to accomplish by this? Cut me and my men will slay you where you stand.”

“I will have the satisfaction of knowing that you will never use that foul thing between your legs again.” The blade pricked him through his clothing and Kadeem squealed.

“What are you waiting for, Kadeem?” the man in front shouted. “Bare her breasts for us.”

“Decide fast, Kadeem,” Zara hissed. “Leave my clothing intact or suffer the bite of the knife where it will hurt you the most. I refuse to be humiliated before these foul pigs who call themselves men.”

Kadeem decided to back off. Making a scene now would cost him dearly, both in profit and pride. Should she humiliate him before his best customers, she would never bring the price he expected.

“I will leave your clothing intact if you will remove the blade and slip it back in its rightful place. I swear this on Allah’s grave.”

Zara hesitated but a moment before replacing Kadeem’s knife. She didn’t want to die, and she
surely would if she harmed Kadeem. Once the blade rode comfortably at his waist, Kadeem turned to the crowd and said, “It is best to leave something to the imagination. It will serve to whet your appetites for the tempestuous Zara. Look at her, men. Is she not delectable? Her breasts are high and full. Her nipples are like ripe cherries. If you look closely you can see her mound through her pantaloons. I guarantee that it is plump, pink and will sheath the mightiest sword.”

Zara kept her eyes focused on the cloudless sky as the men strained forward to catch a glimpse of the various body parts Kadeem had described. Kadeem had truly captured their fancy. Zara hissed as Kadeem turned her around and patted her bottom.