“Hold out your hand, Jamal,” she whispered into his ear. Only half aware, Jamal presented his palm, surprised when he found it filled with two small silver balls. “Which one of us will you pleasure first, my lord?”
Jamal frowned, then shrugged. “You first, Saha.”
Saha squealed with delight as she stretched out on the couch beside Jamal and spread her legs. Jamal warmed the balls in his hand, then carefully inserted them in Saha’s slippery sheath. Leila and Amar stood beside the couch, whispering words of encouragement as Jamal rotated her hips. Saha peaked quickly, arching sharply upward and screaming her release.
Leila was next. She cleansed the balls in a basin of water and handed them to Jamal. He obliged her, placing the balls inside her with great care. When she deliberately held back in order to keep the pleasure from ending too soon, Jamal would not allow it. In a matter of minutes his expert manipulation cast her into the throes of ecstasy.
Once again the silver balls were cleansed and then it was Amar’s turn. Her orgasm came quickly and violently. She had become painfully aroused just watching her companions attain rapture and could not hold back when it was her turn.
“Now it is your turn, Jamal,” Saha said. “How may we pleasure you? Do you wish me to take you in my mouth? Perhaps you’d like to use us as a man would use a boy lover. What is your pleasure, Jamal?”
“Watching you attain ecstasy was my pleasure,” Jamal said. “Go back to your masters now and tell them you have pleased me.”
“But that would be a lie!” Amar gasped, shocked by Jamal’s dismissal. Though cloaked in polite words, it was a dismissal nonetheless. “We gave you no pleasure. Do not send us away, my lord. Our masters will be angry with us.”
“Haroun beats me when I displease him,” Saha admitted. “He is a stallion in bed but he demands obedience.”
“My new master cannot afford the luxuries we enjoyed in your harem,” Leila complained. Her full lips were pursed into a pout and her large oval eyes held a hint of tears. “Let us stay.”
“Have you forgotten the reason I gave you away?” Jamal asked harshly. “The three of you tried to poison a woman who meant you no harm.”
“It was Saha’s idea,” Leila claimed.
“I did not encourage it,” Amar declared.
“You are all liars,” Saha said with a hint of disgust.
“Go!” Jamal ordered. “You may remain temporarily in the harem but do not expect more of me than I am willing to give.”
“What has that Berber witch done to you?” Saha wailed. “How can you feel anything but hatred for Zara? I heard she drugged you and escaped with her father. What she did to you is no less a crime than what we tried to do to her.”
“I’m still alive,” Jamal said curtly. “Zara did not want my death, but you, ladies, would have killed Zara with your vile potion. All she did was put me to sleep. Leave me, now. Make the most of your temporary stay, for I suspect your new masters will soon miss you and want you back in their beds.”
Retrieving their discarded caftans, the disgruntled women dressed quickly and filed out of the chamber. Hammet watched them leave with unbridled curiosity. He’d never seen a woman leave his master’s chamber with anything but a smile on her face. Judging from the sour expressions on the faces of Saha, Leila and Amar, he’d venture to guess they had been less than pleased with Jamal’s performance. Jamal’s shout brought Hammet’s speculation to a halt and he hastened to attend his master.
“You summoned me, master?”
“I ought to have you and Haroun drawn and quartered!” Jamal shouted. Hammet seemed unperturbed by his master’s display of temper. “Whatever possessed you to bring those women back into my home?”
“We wished to please you. You have not had a woman since … well, for a very long time. If you do not favor those three harpies, let me go to the slave market and purchase a trio of submissive virgins for you to train to your specific needs.”
Jamal frowned. “I do not want submissive virgins. I want…” His words trailed off. What he wanted was a hot-blooded, sharp-tongued hellion with a face like an angel and the disposition of a wildcat. A warrior woman as fierce a fighter as any man he’d ever known.
“If you will tell me what you want, master, I will endeavor to find it for you,” Hammet said, concerned over Jamal’s well-being. He’d never seen his master so obsessed with a woman before. Women were of little account to most Arabs. They had scant value beyond the pleasure gained from their bodies and their ability to bear children.
“I’m weary, Hammet. Leave me in peace.”
Hammet shuffled backward toward the door.
“Wait. Summon Haroun to my chamber.”
Jamal donned a caftan, located quill, ink and parchment in his chest and wrote out a message. Haroun arrived just as Jamal brushed off the sand he had used to dry the ink.
“What can I do for you, Jamal? Hammet said the women did not please you. I will beat Saha if she offended you.”
“Forget the women, Haroun, they’re not the reason for my summons. ’Tis time I returned to sea. I can feel Ishmail breathing down my neck. Find a trusted man to deliver a message to Captain Brahim in Tangier.” He rolled up the parchment and handed it to Haroun. “He is to have my ship provisioned and made ready to sail the moment I arrive in Tangier. It might take Captain Brahim a few days to round up my crew, but I trust him to follow orders.”
“Are you sure this is what you want, Jamal? We’ve been friends a long time and I can’t see you abandoning a cause. I know you, Jamal. The Berber princess is the first woman you’ve gone to such lengths to keep with you. You displayed little remorse when you got rid of your concubines, but the loss of Zara is tearing you apart.”
“I did not ask for your advice, my friend. You are neither my conscience nor my father. Zara has made her choice and it definitely isn’t me. ’Tis time I regained my pride and let her go. Her father and her people are her life. She doesn’t want me.
“Zara is like the desert wind, blowing hot and wild. She can neither be tamed nor made into something she is not. She is part of the land, a brave free spirit whose love cannot be harnessed.”
“By Allah’s beard, you love the woman!” Haroun cried, aghast. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Sheik Jamal abd Thabit succumbed to love. With all the women available, why did you pick someone totally unacceptable to a man of your rank and presence? Zara is doomed, you know. The sultan will not allow Youssef and his daughter to live. You are wise to forget her.”
Jamal agonized over Haroun’s words long after his lieutenant left. Had he arrived in time to rescue Zara before her father snatched her away, things would have been different. He truly wanted to forgive Zara for betraying his trust, and in time he would have. Perhaps he already had. He could picture her now, sharing his bed, clinging to him sweetly as he bound her to him with his passion. He would have planted his child in her and made her his favorite concubine.
Regrettably, Youssef had reached her first. Perhaps it was for the best.
Jamal made preparations for his journey to Tangier. He had quite forgotten about Saha, Leila and Amar, who were still happily ensconced in his harem. Their new masters had not yet asked for their return, assuming that Jamal was satisfied with the temporary arrangement and unwilling to displease him.
Preparations were progressing according to Jamal’s expectations when armed soldiers from the sultan’s royal guard arrived from Meknes. Moulay Ishmail demanded Jamal’s immediate presence at the royal palace and had sent his personal guard to assure Jamal’s compliance. When questioned about Ishmail’s orders, all the captain of the guard would say was that Youssef had resumed the raids upon the sultan’s caravans.
Aware of the sultan’s vindictive nature and his penchant for cruelty, Jamal suspected that he’d been summoned by Ishmail to receive his death sentence. Ishmail’s anger over Youssef’s escape from Paradise had been festering a long time, and Jamal supposed the sultan wanted revenge.
Chapter Fourteen
As usual the royal palace was teeming with supplicants and subjects seeking audience with the sultan. Jamal was hurried past the Hall of the Sultanate, where Moulay Ishmail held court seated upon his ornate throne. Jamal caught a brief glimpse of the scarlet-robed monarch as he passed by the huge gilded doors inlaid with gold. If Ishmail saw him, he gave no indication.
The room Jamal was taken to was stark in its simplicity, nothing like the opulent quarters he’d occupied during his previous visits to the royal palace. In addition to a narrow couch, there was a low lacquered table surrounded by cushions, and a plain chest for clothing. A bowl of fruit and a tea service gracing the table saved the room from austerity. Through a lattice partition Jamal saw a private hammam, beyond which was a small walled garden. Jamal felt somewhat cheered by it, until he realized the wall was unusually high and had no outside outlet.
He was a prisoner.
The door had been locked behind him, and the garden walls were too high to scale. There was no escape. He could taste death, and it did not appeal to him.
Suddenly the door opened and a young slave girl dressed in revealing harem pants and skimpy vest stepped inside. She was small and dark with sultry black eyes that promised untold delights. “My name is Zinab. I bring towels for your bath, my lord. Allow me to assist you.”
“Who sent you?” Jamal demanded to know.
“The sultan, my lord. He said you would be dirty after your journey to Meknes and should avail yourself of the hammam.” She gave him a coy smile. “He said I was to serve you in any capacity you desire.”
Jamal gave a bark of laughter. “So, the condemned man is to be indulged before he goes to his death.”
Zinab appeared puzzled by his words. “I do not understand. I am here merely to serve you.”
“Come, then, Zinab, the hammam awaits. You can bathe me, and while I rest my weary bones I will consider the ways in which you can serve me.”
Zinab’s smile was genuine. She greatly admired the tall, dark sheik and preferred him to the short, stout sultan, who used her vilely most of the time. She was elated to serve a handsome, virile man like Jamal.
Zinab’s efforts were wasted on Jamal. He appeared only mildly interested in her, though she tried her best to arouse him as she slipped off her clothing and followed him into the hammam.
Jamal had scant time to think about Zinab’s curvaceous little body as she attended him in his bath. He was too busy trying to figure out what was in Moulay Ishmail’s perverse mind. Despite the fact that his chamber had few amenities, the sultan had not confined him to the dungeon. He had a private hammam and his own walled garden. And a beautiful woman to ease his body. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.
Jamal had seen the results of some of Moulay Ishmail’s more depraved acts and witnessed others firsthand. The sultan seemed to enjoy using torture as a means of punishment, but thus far Jamal couldn’t describe his treatment as torture. More of the sultan’s perversity?
Then suddenly the answer came to Jamal. He hadn’t been summoned to Meknes to receive a death sentence. The sultan was using the alluring Zinab as an inducement. The talented love slave was a tidbit offered to him as a reward for his compliance, Jamal surmised. And he would bet his considerable fortune that the sultan had some distasteful task in mind for him, something that concerned Youssef and his lovely daughter.
When Jamal returned from the hammam, he found a fresh set of clothing laid out on his bed. He started to pull the clothes on when Zinab laid a hand on his arm. “How else may I serve you, my lord?” Her arms crept around his neck as she pressed her full breasts against his chest and ground her pelvis into his groin.
He was a young, virile male, and Jamal’s flesh hardened automatically. He groaned and gently removed her arms. If he succumbed to Zinab, he would be playing right into the sultan’s hands.
Zinab smiled up at him through long, feathery lashes as dark as sin. “Do you not find me pleasing, my lord? I have been trained to give pleasure in every manner known to man. I can take you in any orifice you prefer. If you enjoy watching me receive pleasure, I have silver balls for your use. I do not mind being tied with silken bonds and spanked, if that is what it takes to arouse you. Tell me, my lord Jamal, tell me what you want.”
Her speech momentarily distracted Jamal. Zinab could hardly be more than fifteen, yet she already possessed the knowledge of an experienced houri. As a love slave she would doubtless be beyond compare, capable of providing many delightful hours of erotic entertainment. It surprised him that he did not want her.
“You are like a delicate blossom, Zinab, and I’m sure some man will find you a delightful diversion. Regrettably, I am not that man.”
Zinab’s mouth fell open. This had never happened to her before. “You do not want me?” Her mouth trembled and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Then to Jamal’s utter surprise, she fell to her knees before him. “Do not tell the sultan, my lord. I will be most severely punished.”
Jamal lifted her to her feet, drying her tears with the end of his shirt. “What happened or did not happen in this room will remain a secret between us. Now put on your clothes and return to the harem. If the sultan asks, I will tell him that you pleased me.”
“Why won’t you let me pleasure you?” Zinab asked curiously. “Do you not enjoy women? If you prefer boys—”
“For the love of Allah, do not accuse me of that depravity! Since we have shared one secret, I feel safe in revealing another. There is only one woman I want and she is unavailable. I suspect the sultan is trying to lure me into doing his bidding by presenting me with you. Softening me, so to speak.”
Zinab gave him a watery smile, no longer the seductress but a young girl who looked and acted older than her years. “Your lady is lucky. I envy her.”
“Go now, Zinab. If the sultan asks, tell him I was well pleased with you.”
Zinab slipped from the chamber and Jamal heard a click as the door was locked behind her. Though it rankled to be placed at the sultan’s mercy, he supposed he’d find out shortly what Ishmail had in mind for him and sat down to wait.
Jamal had just finished his evening meal when the head eunuch appeared with a summons from the sultan. The corridors were empty now; so was the Hall of the Sultanate. Supplicants and subjects had returned to their homes, and the royal court had adjourned for the day. Jamal was led past guards standing at attention, past the cavernous reception hall to the sultan’s private chambers. A tall Nubian slave opened the door to the sultan’s outer chambers, invited Jamal inside and promptly left.
The room was empty. Jamal was left to cool his heels a good thirty minutes before Moulay Ishmail appeared from his inner chamber and seated himself with great pomp upon an ornate brocaded couch. Jamal dropped to his knees and made his obeisance.
“You may rise, Jamal,” Ishmail said imperiously. He did not invite Jamal to sit or to drink mint tea with him as he had on previous occasions, a sure sign of his anger. “I understand you enjoyed my gift. I trained Zinab myself; she is incomparable.”
“I found no fault with little Zinab, my lord sultan.” If Ishmail expected more from Jamal, he wasn’t going to get it.
The sultan’s hard eyes narrowed on Jamal, pinning him with his cruel glare. “You disappoint me, Jamal. I thought you were the one man I could trust. It never occurred to me that you would become so besotted with the Berber witch that you would forget to whom you owe allegiance. It was remiss of me to pardon you for letting Youssef escape. I’ve reconsidered my rash decision concerning your dereliction of duty. You should have brought Youssef to Meknes instead of keeping him at Paradise.
“Your promise of pirate loot blinded me to my duty, and I showed mercy where none was due. Now the raids continue and I am being beggared by Youssef and his warrior daughter. I have considered many courses of action, Jamal. One was to order your death for defying my commands. Another was to employ torture to appease my anger. But since I am
a magnanimous fellow, I have decided to give you one last opportunity to redeem yourself.”
Jamal nearly laughed in the sultan’s face. Ishmail was famous for his cruelty; there was nothing magnanimous about him. “You are most gracious, great sultan.”
Ishmail smiled. “I am, aren’t I? But my mercy does not come without a price. This is the last time I will indulge you. Fail me and you will pay with your head. Succeed and little Zinab will be yours. You’ve already had a taste of her sweet flesh. ’Tis but a sample of what she is capable of. She is sweet and submissive, nothing like your fierce warrior woman.”
“Tell me what I can do to put myself back in your good graces, Excellency.”
Ishmail’s expression turned ugly. “Bring Youssef and his daughter to me dead or alive. Do not return until you have flushed the bandits from the mountains. I cannot afford to lose another caravan. You are no fool, Jamal; you know I do not countenance failure. There will be no leniency for the girl this time. She is too much like her father. I’ve ordered Captain Hasdai to place one hundred seasoned soldiers at your disposal. Your mission is to find and destroy the enemy.”
“What if I refuse?” Jamal dared to ask. How could he hunt down and destroy a woman he cared about? The woman he …
Loved.
Ishmail’s smile did little to encourage confidence. “You will not refuse. You value your neck too well. You will be released from your chamber at dawn. I will be on hand to watch you lead my army to victory. You may go.”
Jamal knew better than to protest his curt dismissal. One did not gainsay the sultan and live to tell about it. He salaamed. As he backed out of the chamber, Ishmail said, “Dream of little Zinab tonight, Jamal, and how well she pleasured you today. Perhaps your lusty dreams will make you eager to return to her.”
The door to Jamal’s chamber opened at the precise moment a glorious pink dawn appeared in the eastern sky. Jamal had already performed the ritual cleansing ceremony required of all Muslims, faced Mecca when the muezzin called the faithful to prayer and consumed a light repast. Captain Hasdai was waiting for him when he stepped into the corridor.
Sheik Page 19
