Innocent in the Harem

by Michelle Willingham

  Lady Murana was an older woman who wore robes colored a deep red while a white anteri tunic and şalvar trousers were revealed beneath it. Her hair was hidden beneath a loosely fitted turban, and emeralds and diamonds adorned her throat and wrists. “You have brought me a new girl, Hakir?”

  “I have, my lady. She has gained Prince Khadin’s favor, and he ordered her prepared for him this night.” The eunuch bowed and took his leave, while Laila was left standing with the woman.

  Wrinkles creased Murana’s face as she walked a slow circle around Laila. “Remove the cloak,” she ordered.

  Laila clenched the fabric tightly, and Murana sent her a cold stare. “If you are to survive this new life, you must learn to obey orders. The prince will not tolerate insolence, especially not from a slave.” Then the older woman softened slightly. “I know that the harem will be new to you, but you are among the blessed to be brought here.” She gently removed Laila’s outer cloak and inspected her, clucking her tongue with disapproval. With a sharp command to another slave, the older woman ordered food for her.

  Once Laila had eaten, Lady Murana bid her to stand. “Come, and I will take you to the baths.”

  The interior of the hamam was warm, with steam rising from the waters. Lady Murana gave her a pair of wooden clogs to protect her feet from the hot marble, and when Laila entered, she saw a dozen women talking softly to each other. Both dark-skinned and fair-skinned women sat amid the steam, their lush forms only reminding Laila of her own shortcomings. Her breasts were small, the size of apples, while her hips were too slender.

  Laila sat upon a stool, to rest her aching feet while the blissful steam rose up around her. As she relaxed, the perspiration rose upon her skin, droplets sliding down her throat and down her breasts. She wondered if Khadin would try to touch her, and her nipples puckered at the forbidden vision. She crossed her arms over her chest, and the light pressure against the sensitive tips made her breath catch.

  One of the other slaves spread a paste over her skin, then scraped it off with mussel shells, before rinsing her body hair away. They scrubbed her clean with a rough sea sponge and washed her hair. Last, the attendant poured several buckets of water over her.

  It was strange to be bared this way before other women, but no one appeared disconcerted in the least. One woman stretched in the steam, sweat glistening over her nubile body.

  Another slave brought out scented oils, and Laila jerked in surprise when the woman began to massage her. After the heavy steam, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the touch. Her aching muscles relaxed, and as the slave’s hands slid over her skin, she found herself thinking of Khadin once more.

  He was handsome, with such piercing blue eyes that drew her in. Any woman would be honored to become his concubine. Laila shivered when the slave’s hands moved to her neck and shoulders, sliding down over her breasts to massage her stomach and lower back. A shocking ache of pleasure resonated through her body, down between her legs.

  Though the slave was merely doing her duty, Laila found herself responding in a way she didn’t understand. Her body grew more sensitive, and goose bumps rose over her flesh as she was coated in fragrance.

  For the remainder of the afternoon, she reclined upon a sofa, her body wrapped in warm cloths. Though she knew she ought to be planning her exit, it was as if her mind had fallen beneath the spell of the harem. Her skin had never felt this soft, her hair falling over her shoulders in a smooth dark veil. She suspected that something else had been placed within the massage oil, something to awaken her own desires.

  The world of the harem was drawing her into its silken, private web of sensual delight. And with each minute that passed, she loosened the cloths until her naked body dried in the warm air. Khadin would want to claim her, to make her submit within his bed. She envisioned his body covering hers, and what it would be like when he invaded the most private part of her.

  She grew wet between her legs, and the unfamiliar sensation seemed to permeate every part of her. In her mind, she saw his hands reaching out to touch her. But instead of pulling away from him, she found herself trapped, leaning in as though he could quench the need rising.

  Don’t do this, she warned herself. You have to leave. You cannot stay here.

  But before long, Lady Murana came to bring her to the prince. Laila wore gossamer clothing that was so translucent, the anteri and gömlek revealed every curve. Last, she wore a long ferace, to cover every garment. Her hair was braided, and atop her head she wore a pillbox hat with two veils in the front and back to form her yaşmak.

  “I think Prince Khadin will find you pleasing, in spite of your thinness,” the woman pronounced. “If you bring him great pleasure, he will reward you.”

  Laila’s skin prickled with fear, her body so very cold. She was not a true concubine, nor would she be. The prince might have rescued her from the slave markets, but she had no desire to lose herself in this way. She wanted to return home and find out if any of her tribe members had survived. A life of this luxury did not suit her at all. She needed her freedom and her beloved horses.

  Vaguely she was aware of Lady Murana offering advice on how to bring the prince to his own physical pleasure, but her mind refused to listen. Right now, she was trying to memorize the interior of the palace, looking for unguarded corners that might afford her an escape.

  “Enter the prince’s bed from the foot, remaining beneath the covers until you reach him,” Lady Murana advised her. “Show him your humility and recognize that he is your master.” Then the woman gave Laila a velvet pouch. “Take this with you,” she commanded. “Prince Khadin may wish to use it tonight.”

  When Laila glanced inside the pouch, she saw nothing but a tiny vial. She drew the drawstring tightly shut, resolving that she would find a way out of this.

  Another dark-skinned eunuch led her down a winding corridor. Laila passed mosaic floors, and intricate porcelain walls, with inlaid gold. Again, the silence of the palace startled her, now that she was outside the women’s quarters.

  Within moments, Laila was led to a private chamber. The windows were open, and the late afternoon sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a shadow over the man standing there: Prince Khadin, who held her fate in his hands.

  Laila stood before him, unsure of whether or not to approach.

  Chapter Two

  She was terrified. Khadin could see it in her eyes. After the ordeal of this morning and her change in circumstances, he supposed anyone would be frightened of the unknown. The eunuch removed the outer ferace she wore, bowing and setting the garment near the doorway. Laila’s black hair had been braided and adorned with golden cords, and kohl applied to her eyes. Her face and head were veiled, leaving only her dark eyes to entice him.

  Dressed in a silk anteri and gömlek, he could see the rosy nipples beneath the fabric. Her long, slim legs peeked from beneath the şalvar trousers. It was an outfit designed for seduction, revealing everything he desired. Despite his good intentions to simply enjoy her company this night, he could not deny the visceral response rising.

  Khadin dismissed the eunuch who had brought Laila here, wondering how to break past her fear. Though he knew he held complete command and could order her to do as he wished, he had no intention of using that power. He preferred to win her affections on his own terms.

  She was a distraction he needed tonight, for his repeated attempts to speak with the sultan had once again been denied. That, coupled with the poisoning attempt this morning, was enough to solidify his suspicions that they wanted him dead. It was only a matter of when and how.

  He would not beg for mercy nor flee like a coward. He would face his father and try to convince Suleiman that he was the strongest governor for Nerassia. At the moment, Khadin had to tread carefully, for he sensed indecision within his father about his fate. It was the only hope he had left.

  To take his mind off the unsettling future, he gestured toward a tray of dates, fresh grapes and slices of melon. “Would
you like something to eat?” Earlier, a new slave had tasted the food, to ensure that it was safe.

  Laila shook her head. She took a step closer, and in her mahogany eyes, he saw resentment mingled with the fear. “There is nothing here that I want.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding herself from view.

  He raised an eyebrow at her remark, not at all surprised. “You’re angry I brought you here.”

  “I’m angry that I was captured and sold into slavery.” Her dark eyes flashed with fury. “All I’ve ever done is train and sell horses. I know nothing about a life such as this.” She waved her hand at the finery, shaking her head. “It may be a cage made of gold, but it’s still a cage.”

  Her voice trembled when she added, “Do you expect me to desire you? Should I want to lie upon your bed and let you use me?”

  She was close to tears, and Khadin lifted his hand to stop her. “I have never used a woman. My father, yes.” She didn’t understand his reasons for bringing her here. “If I send you back to the harem, you would be chastised and punished. And if I leave you there, my father might choose you within his own bed.” Khadin stared at her. “Is that what you want?” He picked up the ferace and passed it to her. Laila held it close, as though it were a shield. She shook her head slowly. “No.”

  Though it was unusual for women to venture outside the privacy of the harem, Khadin felt the need to escape these walls. “Cover yourself and walk with me,” he ordered.

  He tucked several dates into his own robes, in the event that she changed her mind about eating. After donning the black outer garment, Laila adjusted her yaşmak and adjusted her face veil.

  He took her hand in his and her slight palm was rough, unlike the soft skin of other women. She was accustomed to hard work, not a life of pampering. But perhaps she might enjoy a reprieve from the existence she’d known.

  As Khadin led her outside, she struggled to keep up with his long strides. “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.” He led her through the Akhor Kapi, the vast gate leading to the stables. Over three thousand horses were here, but he took her to the stable reserved especially for the proud Arabian horses. As soon as Laila saw them, her dark eyes filled up with anticipation.

  A male slave led a black stallion forward for their inspection. The animal’s glossy coat had been curried, and Laila moved forward to speak with the horse. “You are a beautiful one, aren’t you?” she murmured, stroking the stallion’s neck.

  Khadin watched her fingers as she caressed the horse, her hands sliding over the stallion’s dark back. The vision of her hands moving over his own skin suddenly flashed into his mind. Laila sensed his interest and turned. She offered her attention back to the horse, keeping her eyes averted as if to escape his notice.

  “You needn’t stop,” he told her. “There is no man alive who wouldn’t respond to the touch of a beautiful woman. I’m certain this fellow is enjoying it.”

  In the same manner, he wanted her to enjoy his touch. He moved Laila’s braid and veil over one shoulder, baring her nape and massaging the knots from her neck. She tensed, as though afraid to move. The only response was the rise of gooseflesh upon her skin.

  “Do you want to ride him?”

  She shivered and caught his hands, pushing them away. “Yes.”

  “Shall I boost you up, or do you need a saddle?”

  “Neither.” She vaulted over the horse, using her knees to urge the animal around the enclosure. Though the area was not large, she managed to canter the stallion, and her veil rippled behind her.

  He found himself wishing she weren’t wearing the ferace and veils, for he wanted to see her face. When she rode the animal, it was as if they became one being. Her natural balance moved with the horse, and she hardly needed to hold on. He watched her for several minutes until she brought the horse back to him.

  “What about you?” she asked. When Khadin sent her a questioning look, she added, “Don’t you ride? Or do you require a saddle and bridle?”

  He supposed she believed him too proud to ride bareback. “I’ll ride with you,” he said, swinging up behind her before she could protest. He moved her forward and nudged the horse into a walk. “If I fall, I’ll take you down with me.”

  She glanced back at him, her eyes filled with humor. “Then don’t fall.” Leaning forward, she seemed to whisper a command to the horse, moving them into a trot. It was more difficult to keep his balance, but Khadin had spent enough years as an adolescent riding bareback when he wasn’t supposed to.

  With Laila in his arms, it was easier to forget about the problems with his father. Her body pressed close to his every time the horse moved, and in spite of himself, he grew aroused. Her hips bounced against his as they rode, and the natural rise and fall of her body made him imagine her hips lifting above him.

  “Enough,” he ordered, bringing the horse to a stop.

  Khadin dismounted, lifting her down. Laila sent him an embarrassed look. “I could have gotten down without your help.”

  He said nothing, but let his hands rest upon her waist. “You’re not used to being touched, are you?”

  She looked away. “No.” Rubbing her arms, she started talking faster. “My lord, you should choose another woman. I would not please you.”

  “Can you not stop worrying for an hour or two?”

  She blinked a moment. “But you—that is, I don’t—“

  He slid his hands up her waist to her rib cage. Like a wild gazelle, she appeared poised to flee from his embrace. “Have I forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do?”

  She shook her head. “No, but—“

  “Do you find me repulsive? Does the sight of me bother you?” He didn’t want to pursue her further if his interest was not returned.

  Laila took his hands in hers, drawing them away from her waist. “What am I supposed to say? If I say yes, you’ll have me killed. If I say no, you’ll want me in your bed.”

  He laughed at her honesty. “Laila, I am a man. No matter what you said, I would still want you.” He leaned in to rest his cheek against hers. “Have you never taken a lover before?” His hands moved up below her breasts, and he heard her breath catch. The idea of being the first man to claim her, to teach her the pleasures of the flesh, was a seductive promise.

  Laila shook her head. For a long moment, her dark eyes studied his, as if taking his measure. “I am not one of the harem women. I never will be.” Lifting her chin, she nodded toward the stallion, her voice cool. “If I am now your slave, I would rather be of service here in the stables, than anywhere else.”

  Whether it was her fear speaking or her pride, Khadin would never let it happen. He leaned down, resting his face against hers. Beneath his palm, he could feel her pulse pounding with fear. “I cannot place you within the stables.”

  A woman of her beauty and desirability should never sleep among the animals. One of the kapici might try to claim her. The harem was the only appropriate place for a maiden. There, she could remain behind locked doors, away from the hungry eyes of men he didn’t trust. “It’s better for you to remain within the harem. No one will harm you there.”

  Her eyes flickered over him with distrust, and he sensed her thoughts. “Not even me.”

  Though he could not deny the desire she’d conjured within him, he would never take a woman against her will. It was her choice of whether or not to accept him.

  Khadin stepped back, running his hand over the horse. The stallion nickered and nudged at him in response. “I brought you here because I didn’t want you to fall prey to one of those other men at the slave market. You would not have enjoyed such a fate.” There was no doubt in his mind, that she would have been abused and violated, had he left her there.

  “I want to go home to my people.” There was a choked sound in her voice, and he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I wish you could understand that.”

  He did, more than she knew. Above all else, he wanted to return to his villa
at Nerassia, where he could be free to live his own life.

  Her hand reached out to tentatively touch his. “Please. Let me go.” The simple touch seemed to ripple through his skin, making him want far more. Her deep brown eyes were steady, her expression pleading.

  Khadin removed her face veil and her luminous eyes enchanted him. She had an alluring mouth, high cheekbones and a slender nose. With each moment he remained near her, his desire intensified. In her face, he saw the unbroken pride of a Bedouin, a woman unaccustomed to living within walls.

  “I can understand your desire to go home. Wherever that is.” He reached beneath her veil to unbraid her deep black hair. Like a ribbon of ink, it spilled over her shoulders, in a stark contrast to her skin. “I haven’t been to my own home in several weeks.”

  “But I thought you lived here.” Her expression grew curious.

  “I haven’t lived in the Topkapi Palace since I came of age,” he admitted. “Our father sent us to provinces across his kingdom, to avoid jealousy among the heirs.” Not that it had worked. Khadin couldn’t shake off the premonition that he would never return home alive.

  “Where do you live?”

  “It’s a small province east of Alexandretta called Nerassia. A long journey from here.” He turned his palm over, lacing his fingers with hers. “You would like it, I think. There are many gardens, and my home is on top of a hill overlooking the river. It’s beautiful.” The boundaries of his lands stretched for many miles. He could almost envision Laila riding upon a creamy mare, her dark hair streaming down her back.

  Strange, that he should imagine bringing her with him. But the vision didn’t fade. He wanted to know this woman better, to understand her. Bleakly he wondered how much time he had left.