Devil's Daughter

by Catherine Coulter

  “Why not?”

  She felt the force of his anger, but refused to back down. She raised her chin. “You know that she lied to you, at least about me.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You were a virgin. Look at the sheet. It is stained with your virgin’s blood.”

  Inadvertently her eyes fell to the dark splotches against the white sheet. “Please,” she said, “you must stop this insane plot.”

  “So,” he said finally, sitting up, oblivious to his nakedness, “you sold your body like a common whore.”

  Did a common whore feel such pleasure? she wondered blankly. “I wished to bargain with you and I had naught else.”

  He understood her, and although he would never admit it, he admired her courage, admired her for the irrevocable step she had taken. Still, to hear her speak so coldly about bargaining with him with her body roused fury in him. “A woman’s weapon. How very naturally you came by your talent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Perhaps,” he said, “my mother was not so very wrong about you, my lady. Perhaps she observed you teasing gentlemen, and came to a not unreasonable conclusion. You showed me great promise, Arabella. In the past, have you allowed the gentlemen who desired you to go only so far? Perhaps caress you and fondle you? Did you play with them, but not allow them to have you?”

  “No.” The import of his words infuriated her. “Only one man tried to kiss me before, and I kicked him.”

  “But your passion. I could caress you right now and soon, very soon, I know you would yield to me yet again.”

  “Damn you, you will not touch me again. I will not allow it. I felt nothing for you, do you hear? Nothing.”

  He knew of course that she was lying, but it angered him so that he wanted only to wound her. “So it was all an act?”

  “Yes.”

  Kamal reached out, grasped her upper arm, and jerked her toward him. “Listen well, Arabella. What I decide to do about your parents has nothing to do with what occurred between us last night. I can have you whenever it pleases me. You are my slave, my high-and-mighty lady, here for my pleasure. If I wished to spread your legs right now, I could do so.”

  She threw back her head and said with deadly calm, “If you do, I will fight you. I will not act again to make you feel the marvelous lover.” She felt his fingers tighten painfully on her arm and thought vaguely that she would bear bruises. “Are you such a savage that you must prove to me that you are the stronger?”

  He shoved her arm away from him and rose from the bed to stare down at her. “It would appear you are the fool, my lady. How could you expect honor from a savage? Why did you not attempt to seal your bargain before you lost your maidenhead?”

  She stared at him dumbly.

  “You no longer have anything unusual to offer, Arabella.”

  “I was a fool, wasn’t I, ever to believe that I could expect anything from you but an animal’s savagery?”

  Kamal turned quickly away from her and rang the bell beside his bed. “When next you decide to use pretense to gain your ends, my lady, take care who your victim is. Not all men are weak fools to be manipulated by a woman.”

  Ali appeared in the doorway.

  Kamal did not look at her, merely waved his arm toward her. “Assist the lady back to the harem, Ali, though I doubt she can successfully use her wiles on Raj.”

  God, what a fool she had been. All for naught—all for naught. She pulled the sheet around her and rose from the bed.

  “You will pay for your dishonor, you miserable barbarian.” She ignored Ali’s gasp and marched from Kamal’s chamber, chin high, the white sheet trailing after her.

  Kamal threw himself back down on the bed and pillowed his head on his crossed arms. Had she truly expected him to yield to her wishes, besotted by her beauty and her body? He realized that her actions had been clumsily innocent and free of guile. She had not had the experience to bind him to her, to make her demands so that he could gracefully succumb to her. She was a woman of extremes, he thought, and she knew no middle ground. His eyes fell to the bloodstains on the sheet. He had been a fool to take her. Indeed, when he had realized she was a virgin, he had not wanted to harm her. It had been she who had seduced him, all for her own ends. He dismissed from his mind his own angry words hurled at her, and slowly allowed his fury at her to build as he remembered her insults.

  Lella found Arabella curled up like a hurt child on her narrow bed. She knew, as did every other woman in Kamal’s harem, that Arabella had spent the night in Kamal’s bed. She had also heard of her return just after dawn, not in Kamal’s company, but in Ali’s.

  “It gained you nothing,” she said.

  “No,” she said finally, still burrowed against the wall, “it gained me less than nothing.”

  “So what will you do? Stay hidden from the world and mourn the loss of your virginity? That is a coward’s way.”

  Arabella turned slowly, stung by Lella’s harsh words. “I would that you leave me alone,” she said dully.

  “Why? So you can sulk in private? How, Arabella, could you have been such a fool?”

  Tears glistened in Arabella’s eyes, and she angrily dashed them away with the back of her hand. “I was a woman—he made me so, and thus, I suppose, a fool. A weak, pliable fool until morning brought me reason. Then it was too late and I had not the talent to bargain with him.”

  “I gather you angered him?”

  “I have but to open my mouth and he is angered. I have not the wit, as I said, to pretend, to say honeyed things, and gain my way.”

  Lella closed her fingers around Arabella’s hand. “Well, it will do you no good to remain in hiding. Elena is busy proclaiming in that smug way of hers that Kamal was displeased with you. Surely you do not wish—” Lella broke off. “You startled me, Raj.” She smiled at the eunuch, who stood in the open doorway. “What is the matter? Why do you look so grim?”

  Raj drew a deep breath. “His highness,” he said slowly, his eyes upon Arabella, “has decided on his revenge.”

  Arabella only stared at him.

  “What do you mean, Raj?” Lella asked.

  “His highness has ordered me to have all his women present for his inspection. He has informed me that he wishes to select his mate for this night.”

  “But he has never done that before,” Lella said, pulling herself clumsily to her feet.

  “No,” Raj said slowly, “he hasn’t. I can only assume that what passed between Lady Arabella and him last night has brought this to pass.”

  “He is a barbarian,” Arabella said. “It is disgusting.”

  “No, it is your punishment, my lady,” Raj said.

  “Punishment.” She shot a hard look at Lella. “He is a savage, no matter what you say. I will not be a part of this, Raj. I care not what he does.”

  Raj slowly plucked a speck of lint from the wide sleeve of his blue robe. “His highness expected that you would refuse, my lady. He informed me that you would be present, even if I had to have you bound and dragged before him.”

  “Does he have the conceit to believe that I care if he selects a woman for his bed as a man would select a mare to ride?”

  “I do not know what is in his mind, my lady.”

  Lella said gently, “You will not refuse, Arabella. You will face him, but not in bonds.”

  “I suppose,” she said finally, her voice infinitely weary, “that if I do not have honor and pride, I have nothing. If you would excuse me now, I wish to prepare myself.”

  Raj wished he could comfort her, say something to ease the pain he saw in her, but he didn’t know what Kamal intended. When Raj had come before him, Kamal had appeared very calm, but his instructions were issued in such a cold voice that Raj could feel his anger hot and thick just beneath the surface. He realized that he didn’t want to know what Arabella had done to evoke such rage in him. He watched her as she ran her fingers through her disheveled hair.

  He started at the sound of her voice. “Don�
��t worry that I will act anything but the bored observer, Raj. Whatever it is he intends, it won’t matter. I won’t react, in any way.”

  “I hope your intentions become fact, my lady.”

  Chapter 23

  We are all like sweets in a confectioner’s shop, Arabella thought, lined up in our prettiest wrappings to entice the buyer. Only here there was no buyer, there was simply the master who owned all the dainty morsels set before him. The girls were giggling, preening in front of each other, smoothing their soft trousers over their hips. More like an endless feast, Arabella thought, now that she knew what it was men wanted of women. She saw herself panting like any loose creature, beyond herself, aching for him to pleasure her. She saw him clearly, his man’s body all planes and sharp angles, his flesh smooth and furred, the muscles hard.

  “I hate him,” she said, and drew back, realizing that she had spoken aloud; the young girl standing near to her was glancing at her, her head cocked in question. The girl’s belly was beginning to swell with child. Arabella swallowed. Would a babe be her unwanted punishment for the previous night? A man’s gift to a woman, or a man’s curse.

  The afternoon sun was beginning to slant downward, bright slashes of light knifing through the oleanders. Arabella drew herself apart and sat upon a narrow marble bench. She heard Elena’s bright voice and her laughter. The girl probably was quite nice, when Arabella was not around her.

  Arabella was lost in her own misery until she was drawn by the sounds of approaching men. The huge doors to the harem were flung open and three Turkish soldiers, brightly garbed in their crimson-and-white uniforms, flanked Kamal as he walked slowly into the harem garden. Behind him walked an old man whom she had seen before but did not know. She watched Raj approach Kamal and bow deeply before him.

  Bowing before a swine, she thought. He was dressed in pristine white. His shirt was full-sleeved and opened in the front to show a chain of gold, an odd medallion hanging from it. His waist was banded by a scarlet silk belt from which hung a curved dagger, its ivory handle covered with jewels. Unlike English gentlemen’s, his trousers were cut full, tucked into black leather boots that hugged his calves. He looked powerful and forbidding, despite the slight smile on his lips. His thick golden hair was brushed neatly, but Arabella was jolted by the memory of tangling her fingers through it. His blue eyes were cold and slightly narrowed against the harsh rays of sunlight. She could feel him searching among the women, searching her out. She wanted to hide beneath the marble bench, but she would not allow herself to show him how she feared him.

  Slowly she rose, and for an instant across the distance their eyes locked. She reached out and plucked a rose from the bush beside her. Slowly she held the rose in front of her and began to pluck off its petals, one by one, until it was naught but a naked bud. Then she dropped it and ground it beneath her heel.

  Kamal felt rage at her symbolic act. Was he to take the blame for her folly? He said in a calm and clear voice, “Raj, display my women to their best advantage. I wish to inspect them now.”

  Arabella ground her teeth. A woman to him was naught but a toy, an object to be enjoyed at his leisure and tossed aside when he grew bored. Or, a woman who angered him was to be humiliated before he tossed her aside.

  Raj was lining the girls up in front of the arched entry columns. Lella sat on a cushioned bench near to the rippling pool, seemingly unmoved by the silently awed girls now standing straight for their master’s inspection.

  Kamal stopped beside her. “You are well, my sister?”

  “Aye,” Lella said. “ ‘Twill not be long now, Kamal. If I do not birth the babe soon, he will come from my body speaking to me of all his woes.”

  He smiled, but Lella knew it was an abstracted smile. “Kamal—”

  He brought his eyes back to rest on her upturned face.

  “Why do you do this?”

  The smile never left his face. “I remember Hamil telling me—before he met you, Lella—that the master must know the women in his harem. He would say that the eunuchs occasionally slipped in a pearl of great beauty.”

  “Ah,” Lella said.

  “Stay away from her, Lella,” he said suddenly, his voice harsh. “She is not what you believe her to be.”

  Lella studied his face, before saying calmly, “ Unfortunately, my brother, she is exactly what she appears: young, innocent, desperate for her parents, and foolish.”

  He shrugged and left her. Lella watched him approach the women, and wondered yet again what he intended.

  Arabella slipped behind a lovely Turkish girl with inky black hair, thankfully, taller than she. And waited. When he reached her, he ignored her and turned sharply to stand before the women.

  When he spoke, Arabella started, for his voice was gentle, as if he were addressing a group of well-behaved children.

  “You are all lovely,” he said, his eyes caressing them individually. “And you make my choice more difficult than a man can stand.” He clapped his hands, and his servant Ali stepped forward and began to distribute small presents to each of the girls. There were cries of delight and excited murmurs of gratitude. Arabella shrank back as Ali approached. He looked at her, his dark eyes hooded, and passed her by.

  Is this your punishment, you savage? You do not wish to pay me like you do the others for being your whore?

  Kamal stepped back and casually stroked his jaw, as if in deep thought. Finally he said, “I wish Elena to be with me this night. I have missed her grace and her beauty and her gentle presence.”

  Elena tossed her head, a smile of triumph curving her lips.

  Kamal’s voice rang out. “I have suffered the graceless attentions of a girl from that faraway island of England. She is fit only to adorn a chamber, for her coldness would freeze a man.”

  He looked at Arabella as he spoke, but she didn’t move a muscle. She simply gazed through him as if he did not exist. Damn her. “I desire a woman who is warm and yielding to me,” he continued coldly, “a woman I can trust.”

  Arabella drew in her breath in fury at his words, but still she held herself perfectly still. He would soon cease his taunts and his lies and take his leave. She had but to remain calm and withdrawn from him.

  Kamal wished he could shake her until her head snapped back. He would even welcome her curses, her insults, for then he would know that she was not indifferent to him.

  He stood for a moment longer before his women, then turned sharply on his heel.

  He heard Elena snicker behind him. He paused a moment when he heard her voice, heavy with triumph. “Daughter of a sow. Cold English bitch. I told you the master would see through you.”

  Arabella looked into Elena’s brilliant eyes, now alight with the pleasure of her victory. “It is true, Elena, I have not the wit to play the whore. Perhaps if you perform as your master wishes, he will pay you with another gift, as men do for their whores.”

  “Lying slut. You are jealous because the master chose me.” Elena did a small dancing step in front of her. “I knew, skinny witch, that the master would find you lacking. You are no woman. You are naught but a cold passionless shell.”

  Cold and passionless. God, the lunacy of that.

  “Well, cold bitch? Haven’t you anything to say now?”

  Very calmly Arabella stepped toward Elena and slapped her hard with her open palm against her cheek. Elena gasped as her head rocked on her neck. “You have the mind of a child,” Arabella said very softly, “and the manners of a trollop.”

  “Bitch,” Elena cried, and threw herself at Arabella.

  Arabella had never slapped another human being in all her twenty years. Her hand stung; she had no time for thought, for Elena had grabbed masses of her hair and was pulling it. Something broke inside Arabella. With a speed she did not know she possessed, she launched herself at Elena, her fingers going around the girl’s throat. Elena screeched in fury at the suddenness of the attack, but she was no coward, and the thought of humiliating her rival before Kamal was sw
eetness to her. She clawed at Arabella’s hair, pulling her head back until Arabella released her throat.

  Kamal whirled about and stared for an instant, openmouthed, at the two women. He ignored the cries from the other women, and plunged forward to grab Arabella away from Elena. He shouted to one of his soldiers to hold Elena. He tightened his hold on Arabella’s arms, surprised at her strength. “Stop it. Hold still, damn you.”

  Suddenly Arabella leaned limply against him, all fight gone from her. “That’s better,” he said, shaking her. He eased his hold on her, intent upon turning her about to face him.

  She moved so quickly he was stunned. He felt her hand slam into his belly, and the force of her blow made him double forward. He grabbed for her, only to feel her knee crash into his groin with all the strength of her fury. He lurched downward, falling to his knees.

  The idyllic harem garden was a pandemonium. Cries of the women filled the air. Arabella felt her arms pulled behind her until she moaned in pain. Two Turkish soldiers were jerking at her until she thought her arms would be pulled from their sockets.

  She saw the flash of a silver blade above her, and closed her eyes against the pain she knew she would endure. To die because she lost her head, to die for naught—

  “Stop.”

  Her eyes flew open and she saw Kamal rise slowly to his feet. They stared at each other, and she smiled, thrusting her chin up.

  Kamal felt Hassan’s hand on his arm. “Are you all right, highness? By Allah, the girl is mad.”

  “I am well enough,” Kamal said, drawing several slow, deep breaths to ease the pain in his groin.

  “Our laws are precise, highness. Any man who strikes a Bey must die.”

  Kamal said slowly, willing his mind to obey him, “She is no man.”

  Hassan drew back. “That is true, highness. Our laws have never considered that a woman would attack her master.”