The Sheik and the Slave (21 page)

Only two words escaped her lips before she died:

 "My son."

***

When she awoke, she was alone in the stagecoach. She looked
outside the window and saw that they were stopped outside an inn. The rest of
the party was inside taking refreshments.

She started to leave the stagecoach, but her stomach swam
again.

"Oh," she said as she settled back.
This is not
a good start to France,
she thought.

The weather outside was typically grey and dreary, but
suddenly she relished the chance of seeing her Aunt Louisa in Paris. Louisa was
the beloved sister of Anne who had married a Frenchman who traveled widely
throughout the continent and had recently returned back to his hometown of
Paris. Jean-Pierre and Louisa had never been blessed with any children and
doted upon Katharine.

Katharine knew her chaperone, the dour faced girl Moll, must
be inside taking some bread and ale with the rest of the party and was resolved
to join them.

She squirmed in her seat and gritted her teeth as the
whalebone corset bit into her.

She knew the damp weather, the constricting corset, and her
worry over Mohammed was making her ill. She left the stagecoach and watched as
two children and a dog ran through the small muddy street.

A street vendor was selling trinkets and an older woman was
selling violets outside the inn.

Katharine bought a posy of violets and looked to find her
party inside the inn. Then, she joined the group and asked for some stew, bread
and ale. Her appetite was returning.

She knew it was only a matter of time before she and Jamie
were married. Once their marriage occurred, Mohammed would have no say and
would no longer be a threat to her sanity.

Still, she knew she was a coward, running away so as not
have to face Mohammed. But she knew there would be no happy ending with him.
That she loved him only made everything more complicated.

"And you are traveling to Paris, Moll tells us?"
the older woman asked Katharine as she joined the small group.

***

The three men sat in a corner of the London coffeehouse.
Each man had purchased a cup of coffee for a penny.

Mohammed starred down at the marriage license on the table.
Now all that was required was the marriage be celebrated in a parish by an
Anglican clergyman where Katharine resided. He had traveled to England with his
trusted advisor Abdullah as well as Daleel to witness the marriage and support
it once he returned to Arabia with his bride.

"Everything seems to be in order," Mohammed said
in satisfaction as he looked over the license.

"Yes, my lord. But I beg you to reconsider,"
Abdullah hesitated to speak but knew his conscience would prick him if he did
not. He had never been a man given to trifles. He spoke his mind.

"You ask me to reconsider, on what grounds?"
Mohammed's voice held a hint of irritation.

"Your people will never accept her. They honor and fear
Allah, and she is an outsider," Abdullah said quickly. "It is even
been said that she bewitched your brother Majeed and caused trouble between him
and Rana."

"This is idle gossip. If she caused trouble for Majeed,
it is because he was too weak. What of you, Daleel? What do you say?"
Mohammed turned to the younger advisor.

Daleel looked into the hot black liquid and began to speak.

"It is true what Abdullah says. She is not Muslim. But
she has winning ways about her. She is very beautiful and well educated. I
think to give her the benefit of the doubt," Daleel said quietly.

Abdullah crushed the desire to speak out again, knowing that
he was alienating the sheik. He did not see what was right before his eyes! And
she had bewitched Daleel as well. Daleel was young and foolish and could be
swayed with delicate feminine looks.

"Thank you both for your service to me," he told
them.
“
I will think
on this.
”

***

Katharine yawned as she tried to concentrate on her
embroidery. She seemed to be sleeping so much lately, and she could barely stay
awake at times. It was frustrating, as she tried to keep up with all the
amusements her aunt and uncle had planned for her.

She was excited to visit the theater in Paris that evening,
and chose to wear a sky-blue satin dress that made her eyes sparkle. Her
stomacher was decorated with pearls, and the ruffles at her neckline and elbows
were white. She wore her ivory-colored heeled shoes and a delicate lapis lazuli
necklace at her throat. Though English women left their hair unpowdered, French
women powdered their hair and Katharine did as well.

They were going to see the opera buffa entitled
“
La Serva Padrona,
”
composed by Giovanni
Battista Pergolesi. The comic opera had first been performed in Paris and had
prompted an argument between those who enjoyed serious opera and those who
liked the comic opera. The opera was lively and Katharine found herself
entranced by the music.

Her Aunt Louisa wore a silver and black gown, and Katharine
noticed that Jean-Pierre admired his wife as she moved through the theater. Her
uncle had purchased a private box for them, and she was in awe of the theater
and their accommodations.

"Oh Katharine, you look breathtaking," Louisa
whispered as they settled into their private box.

"Merci, Aunt Louisa," Katharine replied as the
performance began.

The box was immediately to the side of the stage and their
view was excellent. The seats were the most prestigious of the house and
Katharine felt privileged. She sat behind her aunt, uncle and another couple
who were their friends.

As she sat there, though she became uncomfortable. She
winced as her whalebone corset bit into her. They were becoming more and more
unbearable to wear.

She murmured a soft excuse to her aunt and left the box. If
she walked for a few minutes, then the pain would subside, and she could still
hear the music away from her seat. She walked along the hallway lined with
private boxes with one hand pressed to her stomacher. She breathed in and felt
her breasts rise above the neckline.

Suddenly, the door to the last box in front of her opened.
She was pulled inside suddenly and heard the click of a lock.

Unlike her uncle
’
s
box, which looked onto the stage, this particular box had the curtain closed to
ensure privacy for the inhabitants.

"Surprised to see me?" Mohammed asked her quietly
as he stood before her.

"No. You seem to show up in the most unusual of
places," she told him. Her eyes glittered like jewels against the blue
satin.

"As do you, princess. London, Paris and, of course, let
’
s not forget
Arabia," Mohammed said.
“
Of
course, you were fortunate to escape Arabia, were you not?
”

"To escape your insane wife, I did what I had to
do," she retorted. The candle lights flickered against her face and the
shadows moved across her cheekbones.

"Yes, well, I have already informed you. Yasmeen is
gone. I have divorced her. Her daughters are being raised in the palace without
her. Her meddling has cost her dearly," he informed her, his dark face so
close to her own.

"This has nothing to do with me. Are you enjoying the
concert, my lord?" she asked. She tried to establish a degree of
separation between them, and he almost smiled. However, this was too serious
for flippancy.

"I have heard none of it. I have been waiting to speak
with you. Please, be seated," he said.

"I prefer to stand," she replied.

Mohammed shrugged his shoulders.

"As you wish,
”
he said.
“
You always
do as you please."

Katharine raised her chin indignantly and replied, "And
you. You love playing the master."

"Yes. I was born to rule over people and things. It is
not an easy position. I must sometimes weigh life or death over someone's
head," he spoke quietly.
“
You
know this, lady.
”

"Why have you come to Paris? I thought everything had
been settled," she said. She moved away from him and listened as the
performers received several laughs.

He looked at her proud back and powdered hair. She always
grew more beautiful and seemed to have a glow about her. Was it her upcoming
marriage? Was she in love? The thought clenched his insides. He would never
allow this marriage to take place.

"I had to see you," he said, shocking himself and
her with his honesty.

Katharine turned to face him. She tried not to stare at him
or his masculine beauty. He had been attractive when she had first seen him in
the audience chambers. She had felt an immediate attraction to him. Wearing his
flowing white robes and goatee, and exercising his power and wisdom so
expertly, he had exuded power. She stood in awe of him; she had never seen a
man like him. He was such a beautiful man.

Yet here in this cold Paris world, he was even more
dangerous. Dressed as a dandy with a frock coat in red and gold and breeches in
the same colors, he was anything but. His silk stockings and shoes were of the
highest quality and his hair was unpowdered yet clubbed. But all Katharine
could see was his sensual mouth and all she could do was remember him touching
her. She remembered the smell of oud in the air and spreading her legs as he
took her the first time.

She swayed suddenly, and he caught her in his arms. He
carried her to a small sofa inside the locked box. He settled her on the sofa,
kneeling at her side. Her hands rested on his forearms.

"I'm sorry, I haven't been feeling well lately,"
she told him.

His warm hand touched her cheek but found it to be cool and
smooth, not feverish. He looked into her eyes, but she lowered them suddenly.
His arms still remained around her waist, and he used them to pull her into
him.

"Katharine," he whispered.

Katharine could feel his warm body, and her heart raced as
he pulled them together.

"Please don't," she said.

"Why not?" he murmured into her ear. Her skin
prickled at the sensation. He bit her neck lightly as he remained kneeling next
to her.

"Why not? Because you fianc
é
wouldn't like it?" he teased. His
mouth caressed her neck and his hand came up to her face.

"Tell me why," he continued. He pulled her head
down as his mouth devoured hers. His kiss wasn't sweet or kind but filled with
bitterness and possession.

All of sudden Mohammed growled and asked her, "Why? Why
do you smell of jasmine?"

Katharine shivered.

"I don't know. I want to have a part of you with
me," she replied.

He cupped her face in his hands.

"Sweet heart, you have all of me," he said.

Mohammed pulled her from the couch and into his lap on the
floor.

Outside the curtains the comic opera continue, but inside
the locked box, Mohammed made love to Katharine.

Katharine's legs straddled Mohammed's waist as he moved her
skirts up, admiring her silk encased legs. She was so lovely. His hands moved
her closer to him as he unbuttoned his breeches.

"Mohammed," Katharine began to object.

"Katharine, this is natural. You need me and I need
you."

He had taken her quickly in her bedroom because he
’
d wanted her so badly.
This time he moved slowly and kissed her neck, threading his fingers into the
white powered hair.

“
Oh,
Katharine,
”
he
whispered. He knew it then, what he felt for her. He knew with absolute
certainty.

Katharine moved her hands on his shoulders as he positioned
her over his throbbing cock.

She used his shoulders to set the rhythm and he slid into
her. They both sighed in relief; the pleasure was too intense.

Katharine cried out. He wrapped his arms tightly around her
as she began to ride him.

"Katharine," he breathed her name into her mouth
as he kissed her again.
“
Dearest,
”
he continued.

She began to shudder and then climaxed as Mohammed pushed
into her tightness and released his seed into her. His arms remained wrapped
around her, and her forehead rested against his.

Mohammed began to pull down her skirts, but suddenly
stopped. His hands moved to her belly, which was slightly rounded, and then he
cursed. Mohammed stood up, dragging Katharine with him.

“
What
are you doing?
”
She
was insulted at his treatment of her.

"When were you going to tell me, Katharine?" he
demanded. His voice and face were unflinching.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. He could
see confusion in her eyes.

Mohammed waited a moment and then spoke.

"You're pregnant,
”
he told her.

Katharine stared at him, unable to realize the truth, and
then it hit her. She
’
d
had morning sickness, strange dreams, and was sleepy all the time. She was
pregnant.

“
Is
it mine?
”
he asked.

Katharine looked shocked and then struck him.
“
You bastard!
”
she hissed.
“
You took my virginity,
set out to make me your whore, and then you accuse me of infidelity? You, with
a harem full of women!
”

Mohammed knew she was telling the truth. The child was his.
“
Katharine,
”
he began.

“
No!
You take advantage of me, accuse me of deceiving you, and then regret it?"
she continued, pulling away from him.

"If you think the next sheik of Arabia is going to be
raised by some dandy Englishman, you are mad!" he said, willing himself
not to drag her before a clergyman that very night.