by Tamara Leigh
With the coming of dawn, Alessandra lowered to her knees and clasped her hands before her. She had only begun her prayers when a voice said, “To which god do you pray? Muhammad’s, or that of the Christians?”
She jumped to her feet, spun around. “For what are you here?”
The new eunuch straightened from the wall. “I followed you.”
He had been watching her all this time? “Why?” she demanded, resenting that with each step he took, the farther back she had to tilt her head.
He halted within reach and looked out across the land to where the city lay. “I thought we might begin our lessons. If I am to converse well with the women, I must know more of your language.”
“It is not among your duties to converse with the women,” Alessandra said, and her irritation deepened as she imagined how the wives and concubines must have vied for his attention after she had deserted him two days earlier. Since then, she had seen little of him, Khalid having commanded his time.
“I would not think it my duty,” he conceded, “but they seem of a different mind.”
That did not surprise her, though it vexed her. Drawing her cloak tightly about her, she said, “Until you have learned your place, eunuch, I have no intention of teaching you anything. You are too ill-mannered and rude.”
“Because I prevented you from making more of a spectacle of yourself?”
Her dancing. “Once again, you overstep your bounds, Seif.” Turning away, she lowered her lids against the brilliance of the ascending sun. “Leave me.”
She listened for his departure, but the heat of his body continued to warm her back as the sun warmed her front. Thinking he would grow bored and wander off, she feigned ignorance of his continued presence. However, her body paid no heed to her pretense, as acutely aware of his proximity as if his hands caressed her rather than his heat.
Why, she wondered, does this eunuch have such an effect upon me? And what, exactly, is the effect? It felt like nothing she had experienced. Was it what the women of the harem named desire?
Impossible. He was not even handsome—certainly, not like Rashid.
“You have not answered my question.” His breath swept her ear, making her startle.
“Wh-what question?” she asked, keeping her back to him.
“Whether or not you are a pagan. Are you, Sabine’s daughter?”
The sun was not up a full ten minutes, yet she felt as if she could shed her cloak. “I do not have to answer that.”
He laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her. Stunned by his boldness, she remained unmoving as he slid his fingers down her throat, hooked them around the chain encircling her neck, and pulled the crucifix from her caftan. Cradling it in his palm, he said, “Christian. Though you are still a bit of a pagan, are you not?”
She jumped back, causing the crucifix to whip out of his hand and fall against her chest. “You dare!” she stormed and reflexively pressed a hand to her throat and collarbone where she yet felt the warmth of his touch.
His eyes laughed at her. “Would you like me to return your crucifix to its hiding place?”
He knew exactly the effect he had upon her, she realized, and chastised herself for behaving the same as Jabbar’s women who were too long absent attention. And never had she known such attentions that she should miss them!
Hitching up her cloak, she darted past him toward the stairs. A moment later, she came up against a firm chest and found herself wrapped in arms that had held her so near only when she was a child.
“Rashid!” She peered up into his startled face.
“You are in a hurry.” He set her back from him. “I had hoped to have a few minutes with you before father and I depart for the city. We will be gone a sennight.”
Insides tight with worry, Alessandra looked over her shoulder at where Seif watched with arms crossed over his chest.
Yielding to the recklessness her mother tried so hard to wrest from her, she threw her arms around Rashid’s neck and pressed her mouth to his. It was her first kiss, but what should have been saved for her wedding night was nothing like what she had hoped. She strained to feel a greater thrill than that roused by the mere touch of the eunuch’s hand, but there was only a whisper of something sweet.
“Alessandra!” Rashid set her back a second time. “This is highly improper. What is wrong with you?”
Shame washed over her. “I am sorry. I do not know…”
What was wrong with her? Why had she felt so little? Why had Rashid not responded? Had it been the same for him? Or was it propriety that held him back? She loved him, did she not? Felt the same for him that her mother felt for Jabbar?
Perhaps not. They had grown up together and, despite Leila’s attempts to keep them apart, had been as close as brother and sister. Was that all there was between them? Had it not become something more?
“Is this the new eunuch?” Rashid asked, stepping past her.
Reluctantly, she followed. “He is the one Mother recently purchased.”
Rashid frowned over his shoulder. “For what is he here with you?”
Alessandra grasped at the only excuse to which she could lay her thoughts. “Mother asked that I teach him our language. Since his duties are many once the household awakens, early morn seemed a good time.”
He halted before Seif, clasped his hands behind his back, and considered the man whom his father’s coin had bought.
From where Alessandra came to stand beside him, she silently implored the eunuch to lower his eyes in deference to the master’s son. But his gaze was as sharp and unwavering as when he looked upon her.
Fortunately, Rashid was even-tempered, his ire not easily roused. In contrast, Jabbar would likely have had the eunuch put to the bastinado.
“He has more to learn than just our language,” Rashid pronounced. “I think his time would be better spent with Khalid, do you not?”
“I…yes.”
Rashid stepped nearer Seif. “I am Rashid, firstborn of Abd al-Jabbar,” he said in Arabic. “You are?”
“Seif.”
Smiling faintly, Rashid looked to Alessandra. “He learns fast.”
She raised her gaze to the eunuch’s. “So he does.” She cared less that he had corroborated her story than that he understood more than she had been led to believe.
Abruptly, Rashid turned and strode opposite.
Alessandra hurried after him. “You wished to speak with me?”
“I had thought there might be a bauble you would like from the city,” he said as he began his descent of the stairs.
She paused to look back at the lone figure silhouetted against the new sky. Though he had turned toward the city, she was certain he laughed at her.
Long after Alessandra and Rashid had departed, Lucien remained atop the roof and surveyed the home of Abd al-Jabbar. It was immense, spread out over nearly as much land as the whole of the De Gautier castle in England. Like the castle, it was fortified with walls patrolled by guards, but there the resemblance ended.
The main living quarters, a large flat-topped structure built of ponderous blocks of stone, was only two stories high. Therein was housed the hall, the kitchens, and meeting rooms for the men. Three single-storied buildings jutted out from it, one being the harem and apartments of the women, the second the bathhouse, the third the men’s apartments.
Between the harem and the bathhouse lay a spacious garden with a marble-tiled fishpond at its center. Farther out were the eunuchs’ quarters, the servants’ quarters, the stables and storehouses. Though not as imposing as most castles in England, the mansion was more opulent with its tiled floors, arcades formed by marble pillars, and numerous fountains. Luxury, not security, had been the primary consideration in its construction.
Had he not given his word to Sabine, Lucien reflected, he could have escaped this place his first day. But he must wait on the impetuous Alessandra.
Grinding his teeth, he considered the dangerous game he played with her. He had not int
ended to engage in such sport. But then, previous to their introduction, he had thought her to be but a blushing girl, and he had certainly not expected her to be so lovely. Except for her warm skin tone that evidenced she was fond of the sun, it was impossible to tell that any blood other than English coursed her veins. Too, she had all the looks of her mother.
It was a long time since he had been so attracted to a woman. And that he should feel it for this one astounded him—she who moved easily among those who had made of him a slave. More, he resented being raked by jealousy when she had kissed the arrogant Rashid.
He had learned of their impending marriage from Khalid, but only from the young man’s boasting this morn had he discovered that Rashid was also an offspring of Jabbar. The two were half siblings, then.
Did the Islamic faith permit such close marriages? Though Lucien had learned much of the Arab people and their culture this past year, this was an area of which he had little knowledge. Surely this was Sabine’s real reason for wanting her daughter taken to England. Having remained a Christian, she could not approve of such a union.
And there would not be one. As agreed, he would deliver Alessandra into the hands of her mother’s relatives in England.
Strange, but he was no longer as concerned about their escape as he had been. Though dangerous, it did not seem as perilous as the temptation he would face once the fiery young woman was in his care.
“Almighty!” he grumbled. Perhaps he should not have turned away the women Khalid had pressed upon him. Perhaps—
Nay, the course he had set himself was the right one, though it meant he must be vigilant in all things Alessandra. Were he not, he could find himself a true eunuch.
CHAPTER SIX
“Alessandra, join us!”
Idly pushing back and forth on the swing, Alessandra looked over her shoulder at the spectacle emerging from the trees.
A donkey between them, the daughters of the wives and concubines entered the garden. Though all were younger than she by four years or more, the older ones having been married away, Alessandra grinned and slipped off the swing. She had taken but a step forward when the feel of Seif’s gaze halted her. With a muffled groan, she reseated herself.
“You can be the gentleman first,” called Nada, an exotic, sable-headed girl.
Alessandra shook her head, telling herself it would be enough to watch the others enjoy themselves.
Quickly, Nada was readied for her ride. Dressed as a man—eyebrows thickened with kohl, mustache painted above her upper lip—a carved melon perched upon her head, she was helped onto the donkey. Facing backward, she took hold of the animal’s tail that was handed to her. Then, with a single kick, away she went.
Laughing, she held tight and tried to keep her balance as the donkey trotted through the garden. As was most often the case, the melon was the first to go, cracking and spilling its seeds onto the stone path and causing the animal to leap forward. With a shriek, Nada fell into a flower bed.
How Alessandra wished Seif would go indoors! There was none better at the game than she, who almost always made the full circuit of the garden, melon and all. Lest she give in to impulsiveness, she gripped the swing ropes tighter.
A moment later, Leila’s husky laughter caused Alessandra to peer over her shoulder. A hand on Seif’s forearm, the woman smiled up at him.
Though the eunuch did not appear to be encouraging her, something stirred inside Alessandra. Whatever it was, it made her strongly dislike what she saw.
How soon before the still-beautiful Leila made him hers? she wondered. With the exception of Khalid, all the eunuchs had succumbed to her wiles at one time—and in one form—or another.
Leila stepped nearer Seif.
Seemingly oblivious, the eunuch shifted his regard to Alessandra. Though his face reflected little emotion, his eyes sparkled.
Berating herself for staring, Alessandra returned her attention to the game. And enjoyed it less as she struggled against the need to once more look upon Seif.
With each successive rider, the donkey became less accommodating, its irritation manifested in increased speed, quivering hindquarters, and incessant braying. Thus, it was not surprising when it kicked its hind legs and threw its rider, who landed among spiny bushes.
Alessandra launched herself from the swing and was the first to reach the wailing girl. “I am here, sweet one,” she soothed as she disentangled her from the greedy thorns, wincing as she, herself, fell victim to the drawing of blood. “Hush, Pearl. You are almost free.”
The wails turned to whimpers when Alessandra lifted her from the bushes and set her on her feet. As the others gathered around, Alessandra smiled encouragingly. “There now. All is better.”
Lower lip trembling, Pearl sniffed hard.
“Ah, sweet one”—Alessandra pushed tear-dampened hair off her brow—“it was foolish of you to play the game.”
The girl’s weepy eyes widened. “I have seen you play it!”
“But I am much older and more experienced.”
A harrumph brought Alessandra’s head around, and she saw that the woman who would soon be her mother-in-law stood behind her.
A small dog clasped beneath an arm, a smile curving her mouth, Leila said, “I think you were brave, dear Pearl.”
Alessandra gasped. It was ill of the woman to encourage one who was too young and slight to participate in the game.
“Indeed,” Leila continued, “not even Alessandra has ridden a beast as roused to temper as that one is.”
“That is not true,” Alessandra exclaimed.
Leila sent her eyebrows high. “Then let us see if you can ride him.”
Alessandra knew she was being taunted, that she should not accept the challenge, but she looked to where Seif stood near the fishpond.
She would not be dancing, she reasoned, and she had not been forbidden to take part in the garden games. Indeed, it was not unheard of for the older women to participate. What harm in it, and why should she care what the new eunuch thought of her?
She returned her gaze to Pearl. “Give me the man’s clothes.”
Excited chatter rose from the dark-browed, mustached girls as Alessandra submitted to the preparations. Throughout, she kept her gaze averted from Seif.
I will not fail, she assured herself. I will keep the melon atop my head and traverse the entire garden without mishap. I will make that insufferable man swallow his mirth.
Transformed into a gentleman, she was soon seated on the animal, its tail in one hand. Knowing it would be a difficult ride with the donkey in such an agitated state, she tightened her legs about him and steeled herself for the jolt.
“Away!” Nada landed a hand to the animal’s rump.
Immediately, the melon began to slip, forcing Alessandra to angle her head to keep it aloft.
The donkey followed the path at a brisk pace, jostling its rider. As it approached the first curve, it increased its speed and, when that did not unseat Alessandra, leaned hard into it.
Clamping her thighs tighter, Alessandra concentrated on keeping the melon atop her head, blurring her eyes so she would not be distracted.
She could not see the fishpond from her backward-facing position, but she knew when she neared it and the end of her ride. As she silently rejoiced, she nearly lost the melon. Righting it, she smiled in anticipation of her first glimpse of water.
There! She threw her hands up and let the melon fall.
Amid the applause, a yipping dog darted between the donkey’s legs, and Alessandra had only enough time to register the danger before the animal bucked with such force it rid itself of its rider.
Air, of which Alessandra’s desperate hands could not catch hold. Water, that parted to ease her fall but proved too shallow. Pain, for which she had no time. Not yet. First, breath.
She thrust up onto her knees and dropped to all fours when a sharp ache pierced her head. Braced on outstretched arms, she coughed to clear her lungs and, with her first, strangled
breath, noted the water’s pink cast.
No sooner did she acknowledge it was blood that tainted the water, than she was plucked from it.
Oblivion beckoned, merging the babble of voices such that there was only one she clearly discerned—Leila’s.
“I do not know how it happened,” the woman cried. “I do not know how he got away from me.”
Alessandra squeezed her eyes against the pounding behind her eyes. “Ah, Khalid,” she breathed, “am I going to die?”
“Nay, little one.” The words were English. “You will not.”
There was no more voiceless laughter, and arms that should not be comforting made her want to stay in them forever. Pressing her face to Seif’s chest, she settled into his warmth and went adrift.
Cold.
Turning onto her side, Alessandra drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, whimpering when the movement sharpened the ache at the back of her head.
She threw out a hand and groped for something to drag over her, but found only pillows. Once more hugging her shivering limbs, she startled when light forced its way through her lids.
“Mother?” she croaked.
As warm hands lifted her legs and tugged at something wrapped around them, she eased her eyes open and squinted against the light that shone in a room otherwise darkened by night.
The large figure bending over the foot of her divan was Seif, though it should not be. Once the stars came out, even eunuchs were forbidden the harem—except Khalid. She was about to ask the reason he was here with her when she remembered this was not the first time she had awakened, and each time he had been beside her mother.
He pulled the blanket free from its entanglement with her feet.
“Where is my mother?” she asked.
He stepped near, draped the blanket over her, and tucked it around her.
“Where?” she pressed, as much to know the answer as to distract herself from his touch.
