Outside she heard the same litany, "La Ilaha Illa Allah¬La Ilaha Illa Allah," the men's voices rising in prayer like that of a single beast.
She shuddered. Did he expect that after what happened last night she would be willing? She asked herself. How she hated him-more than ever. But of course, he would do whatever he pleased. No one would stop him, and he had left no doubt concerning his intentions.
She ran her fingers through her hair, drawing herself to full height. Of course last night had not been her fault, she assured herself. And tonight she wouldn't be drugged. Tonight she would fight!
She froze then as voices outside interrupted her thoughts. Prayers had ended and suddenly he was there, bending his tall head to step under the tent flap, and hardly glancing in her direction before going into the bedroom.
Was she to follow? No, never! Stiffly she stood her ground, waiting for his voice to penetrate the curtains with an order. But when moments passed and he did not speak or return, Juliette sat down on the hassock, very straight - a difficult matter since the hassock was constructed to recline upon and, at best, she could only perch on its edge.
Damn these Arabs, she thought angrily. Even their furniture encouraged seduction.
When Sharif came again, he had washed and changed into clean robes and his head was bare of the dark turban so only his crop of raven black hair remained. Still he didn't glance in her direction before walking to the tent flap and clapping his hands.
Almost at once a meal of skewered mutton, steaming rice, and minced squab with cinnamon was brought and painstakingly served by Cassia, who now was carefully veiled, her eyes demurely downcast.
Intently, Juliette watched as several dishes were presented, their silver covers removed, and it seemed an afterthought when Sharif looked up and motioned her opposite him at the table.
Unable not to, Juliette came forward. The hard day of riding left her stomach empty and craving nourishment. It was impossible to refuse, as much as her pride wished she could indifferently turn away. But why should she go hungry and only hurt herself more when it was he she really wanted to kill? She thought. So, silently she obeyed and, with as much dignity as possible, sat down cross-legged on the black silk pillows.
Sharif personally served her a portion of each dish but, though she was hungry, her anxiety made eating difficult and twice the tightness in her throat made her choke when attempting to swallow.
She waited for him to speak, to issue some further ultimatum or insult. But throughout the meal, he remained silent and inscrutable, and by the time it was over and coffee was served and consumed, Juliette was torn between relief at his silence, and a desire to hear him speak-to be given some hint as to what she should expect. But he said nothing.
It was only later, after he had ignored her most of the evening, relaxing on the hassock and reading a book in which he occasionally scribbled notes, that suddenly he seemed to remember her and, looking up said, "Juliette, come here."
The deep pronunciation of her name sent a shiver flying up her spine. She had been facing away from him, cross-legged, and pretending to be occupied with a book of her own, though for hours the print had jumped and blurred on the page and she hadn't read a word.
She was afraid. Yes, she had to admit it. Why shouldn't she be? She was helpless to prevent anything he might do, and he hated her. It was impossible to know to what extent he might go for revenge and, now that he had called her, she had only to think of his hands about her neck, and water closing over her head, as it had when she had defied him before, to make her rise and start toward him.
He's training me, she thought, training me like a dog to come at his call. But she was already near him, although still out of reach, her lips compressed, her eyes mutinous. This far she would go, but no farther.
He leaned back then, both hands round the back of his head so his elbows pointed out to the side. The muscles on his inner arms were carved in light and shadow, and stretching out his long booted legs, he crossed them as his eyes made a leisurely path over her body, seeming to evaporate her robe.
She stood stiffly, her breasts rising and falling more rapidly as a slow smile spread across his chiseled features. "I've forgotten how pretty your body is under those cumbersome garments, ma Cherie," he said at last. 'Take them off now and remind me."
Chapter 54
Juliette's face blanched as her mind flew furiously at the audacity-the impossibility of his request. Automatically her fingers rose to press against her pulsating temples, utterly enraged, yet strangely fascinated by the light in his dancing black eyes. Was he mad? Did he really expect that she would docilely comply? That she would strip for him like a common woman of the street, or perhaps one of the members of his harem?
"I won't," she burst out finally. "I'm not your slave!"
Sharif sighed mockingly, shaking his head. "I don't think you understand, Cherie. Or do you like to have the clothes torn off your back? Some women do prefer it.'
Juliette's teeth clenched. "My preference has never varied. I have wanted only to be rid of you once and forever. But has it ever mattered what I have wanted? No! You are interested only in your own desires, not mine. Let us be frank at least!"
He paused, seeming to assess her words. A muscle jerked in his arm. Then the matter for him was apparently settled as, rising to his feet, he said, "Very well, madame. Indeed let us be frank!" Calmly he stood over her, his face serious.
Juliette's lips trembled. "You can't ... you can't treat me like this. I won't let you."
"No?" His gaze was steady. "By Allah, all that English upbringing has made you stubborn. And what a shame when there could be so much pleasure . . . for both of us. Haven't I already shown you?"
Juliette backed away, stumbling over a cushion and recovering herself. "I don't care. I hate you," she said hearing the desperation in her own voice. "And if you were a gentleman, instead of a barbarian, you would have some . . . some sensitivity!"
Her words made him pause before throwing back his head to laugh loudly. "Gentleman?" he repeated. "And I suppose you would like me better if I were more like one of those simpering dandies who so gratefully jumped at your every call and whim. To them you weren't a woman, but an untouchable virginal temple." He came closer, shaking his head.
"And I suppose you think you'd be happy with that. Mon Dieu-You are slow to learn!"
"I don't know what you are talking about. Do you think I'm happy now after you have .., have," Juliette could hear her own heart's galloping rhythm.
She must stop him. She must get away. It couldn't happen again. Only pride kept her from begging for mercy and bravado seemed all that was left.
Assuming a wide stance she tossed her chin. "If you come any closer I will scream. I swear I will."
Amused surprise came into his face. "Poor Cherie. And do you think someone will come to your rescue?"
Then, with the swiftness of a striking serpent, he had her arm and, though Juliette pulled with all her strength, he held her fast, drawing her so near she could smell the masculine scent of his neck.
"You can't prevent what is to be between us, Juliette, what has always been inevitable. Didn't I once tell you I never go without something I want and, in spite of everything you've done, I've never stopped wanting you."
"Everything you’ve done!" Juliette said feeling her brave facade cracking.
She leapt away from him then, taking refuge behind the small table so that it blocked his path. He never took his eyes from her or changed expression, but, with one hand, pushed the table aside.
Immediately, Juliette burst toward the tent flap. But Sharif was a menacing step behind, and, before she could reach it, a steely arm encircled her waist, pulling her hard against his broad chest.
She was helpless-a puppet in his hands. For an instant she heard the deep drumming of his heart under her cheek. But then, before she could resist, her robe was pulled off and hung limply in his hand, and she was naked but for the dainty sandals on her feet.
He released her then, the force of her own struggles sending her stumbling backward.
For a moment he stood observing her, a sardonic grin on his face. But then she was in his grip again and flung on the carpet flat on her stomach.
She tried to scramble, to kick, to claw, but already he was holding her between his knees and pinning her wrists over her head.
"Damn you!" she sobbed. "Is rape what you need? Barbarian! Half-breed!"
But the sound of her protests was lost in the soft carpets as his weight forced her down and his free hand roamed up her back, caressing the soft skin, and tossing her thick hair aside to kiss, and then bite, the back of her neck, her shoulder, her ear, so that chills tingled in waves along her body. And, over the pounding of her own heart, Juliette heard him whispering teasing jibes and then love words . . . sex words.
Juliette clenched her teeth, determined to feel nothing. But oh, God-it was happening again, this sense of being taken beyond herself--of tiny shivers shaking her from head to toe like ripples over her warming flesh.
His hand slipped beneath her, touching her erect nipples and playfully teasing the lobe of her ear with his tongue. And feeling her resistance ebbing, she kept reminding herself it would be over quickly, "as soon as he has what he wants," she told herself.
But when his caressing fingers reached between her legs where, already, she was growing wet beneath his exploring, she forgot to repeat the reminder as a long breath was released and a tide of yearning set in motion which she was powerless to deny or control.
A moan escaped her lips and she held back another. Her mind swirled and she was hot and cold and shaky as slowly the world faded, leaving only Sharif. And when he turned her over on her back, she knew her breasts were flushed with passion and her feverish protests were really against herself. And when his lips took her mouth, Sharif found it parted and open to his demanding tongue that found and subdued hers until she surrendered to his plunder.
He freed her hands then and they came to push halfheartedly against his chest though somewhere in Juliette's mind she called herself a hypocrite. "Stop . . . Brandon . . . Karim . . . I hate you . . . please stop."
But the words sounded embarrassingly breathless and did not prevent his full length from covering her, or his knee from nudging further apart her unresisting thighs. Every inch of her awaited him, craving the completion of what had begun.
Again his magical hands slid down her form, testing her skin before reaching again between her legs and teasing the red fruit there that swelled larger under his touch until it throbbed as if to burst and Juliette arched, resistance forgotten in the swirl of mindless pleasure.
Abruptly then his hands were gone, his lips were gone, and the sensations slowly receded leaving only their hot brand. As if startled awake from a pleasant dream, Juliette dropped to earth, gasping for breath, her blood still rushing in her ears like the sea, as looking up, she found him on his feet, his eyes glittering enigmatically in the candlelight.
Panting, Juliette raised on one elbow, her face bewil¬dered. What had happened? Hadn't he been seducing her, and now. .
He was laughing softly. "You see, it won't be so difficult to rid you of your stuffy English ways. And you must admit none of your dandies ever made you feel like that."
He remained standing above her, arms crossed, his regard taking in every curve of her body. Juliette gasped as his purpose dawned on her. He had only been toying with her-amusing himself, and now he dared make fun of her!
Fury and humiliation combined in a sudden explosion and, without thought for her weaker state or nakedness, she leapt up and attacked him,-fingernails bared. But he caught her easily, twisting her arm behind her and dragging her through the striped curtains to the foot of his bed where he threw her down. It was a brief struggle and, before she knew what he was doing, he had clamped a metal shackle around one ankle that was fastened to a post driven into the sand.
"Usually I tie hunting cheetahs like this," he informed her factually. "As long as you scratch like one, you'll sleep like one."
Juliette sprang up, bruising her ankle as she reached the end of the chain with a violent jerk that brought her to her knees. Her face was animated with fury. "Damn you! Damn you to Hell for the devil you are!"
Sharifs grin deepened. "Damn me indeed, madame. And I think I'm not alone now in my `devilish' needs. It seems with some encouragement you display . . . would you have me call it, a warmer side of yourself?"
"Ohhh," Juiiette's breath expelled all her anger and humiliation in the single syllable.
Her fingers tightened into fists and she longed for a weapon to wipe the fiendish grin off his face. But how could she deny it? Hadn't he just proven that he could make her want him? Besides, another denial might bring yet another demonstration. So, controlling herself, she only looked daggers at him as for a moment neither spoke.
Then he turned away again, perfunctorily stripping himself of his robes, his skin flashing bronze in the flickering light as the muscles of his back played like the workings of a well-oiled machine. From a trunk he withdrew a rough woven blanket that he threw carelessly at her. Then, not giving her a backward look, he tumbled into bed and, to Juliette's astonishment, moments later fell asleep.
Chapter 55
The next morning, Juliette awoke to Fadjar's impatient pawing outside and to the sounds of voices coming from the outer room. Wondering if her aching head would split from the pain, she sat up warily.
How could he have left her here, chained to his bed, and still sleep so soundly when she, filled with fury, had only been able to drop off from exhaustion an hour before dawn? God and to have to face him this morning. But what was he doing now?
She came to her feet, noticing only then that the shackle had been removed, though her reddened ankle still bore its mark. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she stepped to the doorway dividing the rooms and stopped there as she heard voices coming clearly through the drapery.
"But I cannot blame you for not wanting to let the girl go. She has bewitched you, is it not true?" The black Ethiopian kissed his fingers. "Such rare beauty. And never in all my travels have I seen eyes that color."
Gessat Nassid reached within his robes to secretly weigh again the small bag of diamonds he kept hidden there as his smiling eyes regarded the Sheik of El Abadan. "But you, my friend-it is said you have many lovely women in your desert city and also that you often travel to places where fair coloring such as hers is as common as pebbles along a road. But think, my friend, what a rarity she is to me, and what I am willing to pay."
The Ethiopian's eyes enlarged with his show of teeth and he continued to secretly finger the little leather bag. "And I will tell you that it is most important that I have her. Already I have promised her to a certain chief. You may know his name, Hazrat Khan?" Again the Ethiopian raised his eyebrows. Despite Sharif s stony expression, Nassid felt sure that the sheik was interested. "A powerful chief, you will agree," he continued. "A man who might also be able to help you. I propose that together we give this girl as a present from ourselves. And just between us, I am willing to also impart to you the price I offered at the Club Rayseyn." He waved his hand. "A mere trifle to you, of course. But doesn't every small amount add to a man's wealth? And wars are expensive, are they not?"
Again Nassid smiled, his eyes locking with Sharif's before dropping slowly to sip his coffee. Sharif's face was inscrutable as he, too, tasted from his own cup, wondering as he did of Nassid had come to his camp only to make an offer on Juliette or if there was another motive.
Indeed this Ethiopian was no fool and apparently knew what offer would be most tempting. Hazrat Kahn was the chieftain controlling the passages south of EI Abadan. When war finally came with the French or English, it would be across this chief's territory that he could best supply his men.
Nassid offered a perfect opportunity to join in friendship with this chieftain. But then, frustratingly, Sharif had no time to explore the options o
r extract any further information from his guest since a rustle at the curtains told them both that she was there, even before Juliette jerked the divider aside.
Setting his coffee cup down with a click Sharif bit back a curse. By Allah! He did have half a mind to sell her! Of course her entrance stopped the discussion, as the Ethiopian's eyes slipped easily over Juliette's bare shoulders scattered with tangled hair and down to her bare legs standing astride below the blanket she kept tightly held to herself. Then courteously Nassid looked away smiling slightly as if to himself and nodded, half bowing, before excusing himself so as not to impinge upon the imminent domestic collision.
And, from her attitude, it was obvious she had not been completely tamed. No wonder Sharif was not anxious to let her go. In the dim lights of the Club Rayseyn she had been lovely, but in daylight her freshness took on a new dimension. Now her eyes sparkled with a kind of fire and her face was animated instead of bland and drugged. Exquisite, yes, her brilliance reminded him of his diamonds and, indeed, once he had her, he would not be so quick to make her a present to Hazrat Khan. But Sharif, for his part, had given no sign to suggest his interest in the proposal, though instinct told Nassid he was considering it.
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