Sheik

by Mason, Connie

  “You will never capture Father. He is too smart for you.”

  Jamal smiled without mirth. “But I have his daughter. You brought him to me once and will do so again.” His gaze slid the length of her with insulting intensity. “Take off your clothes, Zara.”

  “What!”

  “Now, sweet vixen. Haroun will make certain we’re not interrupted.”

  “If this is your way of punishing me—”

  “Punish you?” He laughed harshly. “You think bedding me is punishment? Is that how you felt each time you lay with me? Was it such a chore? You are an accomplished actress, sweet vixen. I could have sworn you swooned from ecstasy in my arms. You even learned to enjoy the silver balls and the special kind of pleasure they gave you. You cannot lie to me, Zara.”

  Zara wanted to deny everything but couldn’t. She hated to be reminded of her wild, responsive nature where Jamal was concerned. It nettled her to recall how she’d begged him to come inside her, to take her to Paradise. She had pretended nothing. Everything she’d felt had been very real.

  “It was all pretense,” Zara lied. “Hate me if you must, but I did what I had to do for my father and my people.”

  “You whored for your father!” Jamal charged angrily. How dare she deny all those feelings they’d shared? How dare she renounce the emotional involvement that made their loving so special?

  Zara tried not to cringe beneath his implacable rage. “It wasn’t like that. I’m not a whore.”

  “You are now. You’re my whore. Are you going to remove your clothing or must I do it for you?”

  Zara glanced toward the closed tent flap. “Don’t even think it, sweet vixen. My men are everywhere.” He tore off his djellaba and then reached for her. His hands were swift and sure as he ripped apart the fine linen shirt she wore and tossed it aside. In the dim light of early morning her breasts gleamed like pale alabaster. Next he attacked her baggy pantaloons, tearing them to shreds in his eagerness to see her naked.

  When she was completely nude, he stepped back in silent admiration, his anger slowly dissipating. “Allah knows I want to hate you,” he told her. “You beguiled me with your sweet body in order to gain my trust. Your punishment must be as painful as your deceit.”

  “I’m sure it will be,” Zara said, licking moisture onto her dry lips. “But I don’t regret my actions. My father’s life is more important than my own.”

  “Whore,” Jamal said, attacking his own clothing with impatience. His shirt flew across the tent. “I want you, Zara. I want you to remember how my hands feel upon your sweet flesh, how my mouth tastes, the feel of my lips caressing all those places that drive you wild.”

  Zara closed her eyes. As if she needed to be reminded her of the way he’d made her feel. From the moment she’d left Jamal, she’d thought of little else. Why couldn’t their lives be less complicated? Why weren’t they able to love freely, without guilt? Why did they have to be on opposite sides?

  “You hate me. Why do you want me?” Zara asked as he pulled her against him.

  “The line between hate and love is frequently too finely drawn to distinguish one from the other,” he said cryptically. “Be thankful I’m merely bedding you instead of demanding your life.”

  With lithe, pantherlike grace he eased her down on the pallet of fur. A dangerous half-smile curled his lips as he reared up and looked at her. His expression was one of unswerving masculinity, unrelenting determination. His gaze raked over her. The lush length of her body held him enthralled. Her breasts were soft and full, her nipples dark cherry temptations. The plump pink mound of her womanhood was already weeping for him.

  His gaze unsettled her. She recognized the fierce glitter in his eyes only too well. How could he do this to her again? How could he make her want him by merely looking at her?

  Sparks of rebellion burst inside her. “Allah take your soul! Do not touch me!”

  “Ah, but I will do more than touch you, sweet vixen. Before I am through with you, you will call me master.”

  “Nay!” she cried. “I am no man’s slave.”

  “Are you not? You are my slave and my whore.”

  He brought her hard against him, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest. His shaft prodded against her stomach. His mouth came down hard on hers and the world spun away.

  His mouth never left hers as he stripped off his boots and pantaloons. Then he drove his hands through the heavy mass of her blond hair, holding her head steady as he continued to ravage her with soul-destroying kisses. The sound coming from her throat seemed more like a moan than a protest as his tongue thrust between her teeth. He kissed her roughly, fiercely.

  Suddenly his mouth parted from hers and he stared at her, his eyes burning into her soul. “I could kill you and no one would stop me.”

  She sifted through his words in a haze of desire. “Do it then, Jamal. Kill me and be done with it.”

  “Allah help me, I cannot.” His voice was husky with emotion. “But I will never trust you again.”

  Gathering her courage, Zara said, “You feel something for me, Jamal, I know you do.” It was a mistake.

  His features turned to stone. “You will cease telling me what I feel and don’t feel. You will obey me. All I want from you is your body and the pleasure it gives me. You will spread your legs when I ask it of you and surrender willingly. When you begin to bore me I will send you to the slave market and let a new master deal with you.”

  Zara’s mouth fell open. Was that to be her fate? Would she be displayed upon a slave block like a piece of meat and sold to the highest bidder? She did not think Jamal could be so cruel.

  Zara could think of no answer. In fact, her mind went blank as Jamal pushed her breasts together and rubbed his face in the cleft, then thrust between them with his tongue. His mouth found a ripe nipple. He rolled it between his teeth, sucked it into his mouth and drew deeply upon it. Little mewling sounds escaped her mouth as her hands moved unbidden over the hard, taut muscles of his back and buttocks.

  “Once again you seduce me with your soft, sweet body and greedy mouth and hands,” Jamal whispered against her lips. “You’re dangerous, sweet vixen.”

  Her skin was flushed and damp, her mouth looked swollen and pillaged from his kisses. He stared into the vivid green pools of her eyes and felt as if he were drowning. Though he knew he must be dreaming, he imagined that her eyes held the soft, dreamy look of love. He blinked, banishing the image. He was nothing but a besotted fool who hadn’t learned his lesson. Zara didn’t love him. She had used his obsession with her to deceive him. She cared nothing for him. The only truth was lust. There was no pretense in the way her body responded to him. She craved what he could give her, and that was no lie.

  “You forced me to act as I did,” Zara said. “Becoming your love slave was never my intention. I rebuffed your every attempt to bed me until my father became your captive. I did what I had to do in order to free him.”

  “Deceitful vixen,” Jamal whispered against her lips. “Your wishes no longer matter to me. ’Tis my needs you’ll cater to from now on. Spread your legs and receive your master.”

  She heaved against him with such force that he was nearly bucked off her. “Son of a goat! Cur! You were never my master.”

  She raised her hand to strike him but he seized her wrists, holding them together with one hand and pulling them above her head. He covered her bucking body with his, subduing her with his sheer strength.

  “Not true, sweet vixen. I mastered you the first time you took me inside you.”

  Their bodies were meshed together, legs entwined, her breasts flattened against his chest. His staff was hard and heavy and painfully engorged. She could lie all she wanted about not craving him, but he knew different. To prove his point, he spread her thighs with his knees and thrust deep, embedding himself to the hilt. He groaned as the scorching heat of her surrounded him, welcomed him. He was so ready he could have climaxed immediately. But a perverse demon i
nside him refused to allow that.

  Satisfying Zara had always been a large part of his own pleasure. He had intended to take her roughly, quickly, without any consideration for her pleasure, but the moment he slid inside her he realized he wanted Zara to feel the same sublime rapture he did. No matter what she had done to him, cruelty was not an option where Zara was concerned. He flexed his hips and began to move slowly, penetrating deeply, bringing a surprised gasp from her parted lips as he brought his hands and mouth into play.

  His long, talented fingers stroked and caressed her buttocks as his mouth sucked and licked her nipples. His breathing turned harsh and rasping and his hips jerked harder, faster, taking Zara along with him into a world of bursting stars and exploding planets.

  “Come, sweet vixen,” Jamal panted into her ear. “Come for me now.”

  Abruptly he turned her, bringing her on top of him, forcing a deeper penetration. Zara screamed as Jamal touched the tiny jewel between her legs, hurtling her over the edge, into a swirling pool of raw sensation. Jamal shouted his pleasure and followed her to a rapturous climax.

  He stayed in her a long time. Until he’d grown completely soft. Until his heartbeat slowed to a steady thunder and his lungs began to take in air once again. Until the scattered pieces of his body returned to normal.

  “Do you still deny that I am your master?” Jamal asked with lazy amusement. “Your body obeys my every command without question.”

  She gave him a look of wounded outrage, then turned her face away. “Unhand me. You have done your worst. Now leave me alone.”

  “Done my worst?” Jamal repeated with a snarl. “Nay, sweet vixen, I’ve done my best. I had meant to take you swiftly, without giving you pleasure, but I am too soft-hearted to leave you wanting. It may not always be this way, so enjoy it while you can.”

  He was growing hard again; he could feel himself swelling inside her. She must have felt it too, for she tried to roll off him. His arms came around her like a vise, holding her captive against him.

  “Nay, not again,” Zara cried, her eyes growing wide with alarm. It wasn’t unusual for him to take her more than once a night, but he generally rested between each bout of loving.

  “Aye, again, sweet vixen.” He grasped her hips and placed her beside him on her stomach. Before she could move he was over her, lifting her to her knees so he could enter her feminine passage from behind. “This way leaves my hands free to fondle you.” His breath was hot upon her neck, his hands molding her breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples. Then he thrust inside her.

  Zara arched her back, thinking with the last rational bit of her brain that Jamal was right. He had mastered her body even as her mind rejected what he was doing to her. With wretched awareness she realized that no man but Jamal had the power to bend her to his will. It was a frightening thought. She wanted to be more than a slave to him, but fate and circumstances were working against her. Jamal would never entertain tender feelings for her. He hated her.

  Her thinking process broke down when Jamal’s thrusting grew frenzied. They raced unheedingly toward the stars and reached them simultaneously.

  Throughout that long morning Jamal loved her yet another time before calling for food. Then he loved her again. Afterward he ordered Zara to dress, then he flung open the tent flap and called for Haroun. While he waited for his lieutenant, he pulled on his own clothing. Zara was fully dressed and awaiting her fate when Haroun entered the tent a short time later.

  “Take the prisoners to the slave market in Fez,” Jamal ordered shortly.

  “The women and children, too?”

  “Nay. Leave them. They’re too much trouble.” He hated the thought of mothers and children being separated, which was bound to happen if they were put on the block. “Take half the men-at-arms and leave the rest here with me. I’m going after Youssef. I probably won’t catch the wily bastard but I have to try. After you have delivered the prisoners, return to Paradise. I will join you as soon as I can.”

  Haroun’s eyes slid to Zara. “What about her, Jamal? What do you want done with the Berber witch?”

  Jamal’s eyes darkened with an emotion he was hard pressed to explain, so he didn’t even try. “Take her from my sight. I gave her my trust and she betrayed me.”

  Without further ado, Haroun grasped Zara’s arm and pulled her from the tent. In Haroun’s opinion Jamal couldn’t have made his wishes clearer. He recalled the day Jamal had spoken of sending Zara to the slave market. As far as Haroun knew, Jamal hadn’t changed his mind. It never dawned on Haroun that Jamal wanted Zara taken to Paradise, to await his return. It was Haroun’s personal opinion that Jamal was better off without the Berber bitch. Haroun hoped Zara would be sold to a man who would beat her into submission. Jamal was too good a man to suffer betrayal at the hands of a woman. With Allah’s help, Haroun intended to see justice done.

  “Where are you taking me?” Zara asked when she was hoisted upon a horse.

  “’Tis Jamal’s wish that you be taken to the slave market and sold.”

  “Nay, Jamal would not—”

  But he would, Zara thought, swallowing the rest of her sentence. Jamal hated her. By his standards her fate was a just one.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zara glanced around her opulent surroundings with a sinking heart. She was one of several women being held in Kadeem el Haka’s harem, awaiting the slave auction, which was to be held on the next market day. Haroun had wasted little time in delivering her and the other prisoners to the slave master in Fez. A deal was quickly struck, and Haroun accepted the money in Jamal’s name and hastened to Paradise to await Jamal’s return.

  Zara and other women in the harem had been fed, bathed, pampered and dressed in rich silks and brocades. Obviously these women were intended for their masters’ beds, to be indulged and spoiled and treated like possessions. Was that the fate Jamal intended for her? Zara wondered. Allah help her should another man lay hands on her. She would fight tooth and nail and gladly suffer the consequences.

  With nothing to do but eat and sleep, Zara had too much time to think. She recalled Jamal’s anger when he’d sent her away with Haroun. His smile had been cold and dangerous and did not reach his dark, glittering eyes. And it broke her heart. He had made love to her with such overwhelming tenderness, such caring, she hadn’t wanted to believe that his intention all along had been to sell her.

  Zara listened to snippets of conversation around her and was amused at how her thoughts differed from those of her lovely companions. While she longed for open spaces and mountains, they dreamed of pleasing a rich master, one who would indulge their every whim and shower them with gifts. They aspired no higher than to become a love slave, but she abhorred being treated as an object, letting men rule her life.

  Blondes, brunettes, redheads. Plump, thin, fat. The women prattled on while Zara closed her mind to all but her own misery. Had Jamal found her father? she wondered. Somehow she doubted it. Youssef was a wily desert fighter who knew how to avoid capture.

  Suddenly the curtains to the harem parted and Kadeem stepped through. The chattering women fell silent, staring at the man who held their fate in his hands. Kadeem was short, obese and richly dressed in colorful robes of silk and satin. He wore a ring on each thick finger and several gold chains around his fat neck. His dense black beard covered a weak chin, and his eyes looked too small for his round face. He smiled with pleasure and rubbed his palms together as he surveyed his harem of lovelies.

  “I hope you’re enjoying your stay, ladies,” he said obsequiously. “Soon you will all have new masters.” His words were met with titters. “My customers are all rich and powerful men, so you can be assured of masters who will keep you in luxury.”

  Zara gave an unladylike snort. Camel driver or potentate, all men were vile pigs interested in their own pleasure. She had thought Jamal was different, but ultimately he’d proved her wrong. He’d used her and then discarded her with careless disregard. Why couldn’t he understand
why she had acted as she had? Had he been her prisoner, he’d have done everything in his power to escape.

  Zara looked up to find Kadeem standing over her, hands on hips, a scowl darkening his swarthy features. “You laughed, lady. Do you not wish for a rich master?”

  “I want no master,” Zara proclaimed. “Slavery does not appeal to me.”

  Kadeem sneered. “Now I know why your former master sold you so cheaply, Berber wench. You have a sharp tongue. I will encourage your new master to use the bastinado on you. If he does not, I fear he will end up cutting out your tongue. When you are on the slave block you will curb your insolence or surfer the consequences, do you understand?”

  Zara didn’t think she’d ever understand the need for women to submit meekly to men, but she wisely held her tongue. When the time came, she’d show her new master that she was not easily tamed, nor would she submit willingly.

  When Zara did not reply, Kadeem seemed satisfied. Purposely ignoring Zara, whom he considered too troublesome, he chose a plump redhead to warm his bed that night. The woman went along submissively, though her expression denied her willingness. Unfortunately, she had no choice. Zara thanked Allah that Kadeem did not favor her.

  Four days in Kadeem’s harem seemed like an eternity. To Zara’s vast relief, Kadeem passed over her each time he returned to the harem to choose his companion for the night. A time or two he seemed on the verge of selecting her, but her mutinous expression must have changed his mind.

  Finally it was time for the auction. All the women were bathed, massaged, dressed in diaphanous garments, perfumed and groomed to perfection. Though Zara did not accept her fate, she decided to bide her time and plan an escape when her situation improved. She had escaped from Jamal, hadn’t she?