Sheik

by Mason, Connie

  “Allah be with you, my lord Jamal. One hundred hand-picked soldiers are waiting in the outer courtyard. They are all eager to bring the Berber bandits to their knees for the honor and glory of our sultan.”

  “Allah be with you, Captain Hasdai,” Jamal returned shortly. He was in no mood for small talk. His thoughts were bleak as he reached the huge outer courtyard where the sultan’s elite army was gathered.

  “Your men-at-arms arrived from Paradise an hour ago. Do you wish them to join us?”

  Jamal’s mood lightened perceptibly when he saw Haroun standing beside his prancing stallion. Jamal hurried over to speak to Haroun while Hasdai saw to the pack camels that would accompany the army into the Rif mountains.

  They clasped arms. “I thought you could use your own men around you,” Haroun said. “No one at Paradise knew what the sultan had in store for you, but we wanted to be nearby in case you needed us. Hasdai explained the situation to me, and I made hasty preparations for our men to join the sultan’s army. You have no choice, Jamal. If you value your life, you must obey the sultan. He wants Youssef and Zara. There is nothing you can do to save them this time.”

  Jamal did not reply. One hundred men, all eager to ride to battle, were waiting for orders. He mounted Kacem and rode to the head of the column. Before he gave the signal to ride, he happened to glance up and saw the sultan standing on his balcony, watching their departure. Ishmail’s expression was one of sadistic pleasure and vicious expectation. It didn’t take a wizard to know that Ishmail was eagerly anticipating the torture and death of Youssef and Zara. That Jamal might fail did not bear considering.

  Zara watched with trepidation as Rachid rode into camp. His racing camel came to a dusty halt, and Rachid sought out Youssef the moment he had slid from the saddle of his kneeling animal. Zara hurried to her father’s side to hear the news Rachid had brought.

  They entered Youssef’s tent and Zara made mint tea while Rachid imparted his news.

  “Sheik Jamal was escorted to Meknes by a company of the sultan’s soldiers. Haroun followed a day later with Jamal’s men-at-arms. I thought it expedient to follow.”

  “You did well,” Youssef praised. “What did you learn?”

  “I heard many rumors. Unfortunately, most of them seem to be true. Sheik Jamal has been given command of more than one hundred men from Ishmail’s elite army. His orders are to bring you and Zara in dead or alive.”

  Zara inhaled sharply. “Are you sure, Rachid?”

  Rachid nodded. “I watched them ride out at dawn three days ago. They were joined by Jamal’s men-at-arms.”

  “Allah spare us,” Zara said quietly. “I did not think Jamal would—” Words failed her. She and Jamal had shared an intimate relationship. Admittedly, it wasn’t concluded amicably, but it hurt to think that after all they had shared he wanted her dead.

  “Few men refuse an order from the sultan and live to tell about it,” Youssef said cryptically.

  Youssef was an astute man. By now he realized that Zara was more than fond of the handsome sheik and that she had been unhappy since she’d fled his palace. Youssef realized that nothing was likely to come of those tender feelings, and it hurt him to see Zara suffer from unrequited love.

  “What are we going to do?” Zara asked. There was a catch in her voice that she couldn’t hide. “We’re being hunted down like animals.”

  “We’ll move south, into the Atlas Mountains,” Youssef said. “If necessary, we’ll take refuge in the desert beyond the Atlas.” Suddenly he smiled. “We’ll lead your Jamal a merry chase, daughter.”

  A pain shot through Zara. “He’s not my Jamal, Father. He is the enemy.”

  Within hours they were charting a course for the High Atlas.

  “They were here,” Haroun said, stooping to examine the hard, rocky ground.

  “How long ago?” Jamal asked.

  “It’s hard to tell. Two days, two weeks, who knows?”

  Jamal was secretly pleased that Youssef and his bandits had managed to stay one step ahead of the sultan’s men. Jamal had no idea what he would do if they actually found the Berbers. His greatest fear was that Zara would be killed in battle or become the sultan’s captive. It was up to him to see that Zara was kept safe. Traipsing through mountains and desert gave him plenty of time to think … and plan.

  “They’re headed for the High Atlas,” Hasdai said when the trail led them out of the Rif mountains. “Youssef is clever. He might even attempt to lose us amid the dunes and buttes of the Sahara.”

  “Perhaps we should turn back and report to the sultan,” Jamal suggested. Anything to lead them away from Zara.

  Hasdai looked at Jamal as if he had lost his mind. “The sultan’s orders were to search until Youssef is found. I value my life, even if you do not. Ishmail warned me to be watchful, that you couldn’t be trusted where the Berber princess is concerned. The sultan said you had captured Youssef once and allowed him to escape.”

  “I did not allow Youssef to escape. ’Tis a long story, Captain, one I won’t bore you with. Shall we continue?”

  That conversation was the first inkling Jamal had that he was being closely monitored by Ishmail’s men. Obviously he would have to be very careful in the future. If Jamal was confident of only one thing in this life, it was the certainty that he would never knowingly endanger Zara’s life.

  The chase continued.

  One week, two weeks, three weeks passed with no sign of the Blue Men. Jamal and the sultan’s army skirted the edge of the desert now, descending the slopes of the High Atlas to the lowlands that extended into the Sahara. They traveled over forested slopes, through steppe grasslands and drought-resistant scrub vegetation. They crossed streams that drained from the Atlas into the Sahara and they rested at date-palm oases where they replenished their supply of precious water.

  They camped one night on a thickly forested plain on the edge of the desert. While camp was being set up, Hasdai sent out a night patrol to scout the area. Jamal was with Hasdai when the patrol returned. Their excitement sent Jamal’s heart plummeting to his toes. They had found Youssef’s camp just beyond the crest of the next mountain. The Blue Men had pitched their tents beside a narrow stream in a stand of tall evergreen trees.

  Hasdai smiled grimly. “We will attack at dawn, when they least expect it.” He called his second in command, issuing orders to be relayed to the troops. “Are you in agreement, my lord?” he asked Jamal as his lieutenant hurried away.

  Jamal’s heart was lodged in his throat but he managed to say, “In perfect agreement, Captain. If you will excuse me, I should see to my own weapons and men.”

  Haroun stood nearby. When Jamal entered his tent, Haroun followed. “What are your orders, my lord?”

  “I must warn Zara.”

  “That’s treason.”

  Jamal’s eyes were the windows into his soul, revealing a man tormented by conflicting emotions. He could follow Ishmail’s orders and watch Zara be destroyed, or he could warn her and commit treason. Either choice was painful, but Jamal let his heart make the decision for him.

  “I know Moulay Ishmail well, my friend. He is a master of cruelty. Watching the brutal torture of Youssef and Zara will give him great pleasure. I cannot allow that to happen. I do not expect you to compromise your honor, Haroun, so I release you from your service to me.”

  Haroun looked aggrieved. “I am your man, Jamal. I have no great love for our sultan. Tell me what to do.”

  “Nothing at the moment. As soon as the men have settled down for the night, I’m going to sneak into Youssef’s camp. I will decide what to do once I get there.”

  “I will go with you. You’ll need a man to keep watch.”

  “There is no need—”

  “It is settled,” Haroun said. “I will return to your tent after the camp has settled down. Pray Allah for a dark night.”

  Jamal paced restlessly as he waited for Haroun to return. Perhaps his nightmares would stop now, he reflected. Since he’d
become an unwilling participant in this venture, his sleep had been plagued by terrifying nightmares involving Zara. In his dreams she was the sultan’s prisoner, a victim of his depraved nature. Her screams of pain were so real they ripped him apart.

  Jamal stopped pacing when Haroun slipped inside the tent. “It is time, Jamal. Hasdai has retired to his tent and the men have all made their beds on the ground. I passed the word around to our men to remain vigilant.”

  Jamal nodded, grateful to have a man like Haroun at his side. Together they stepped out into the darkness. The night was cold but Jamal’s black woolen djellaba protected him from the bitter wind blowing from the desert. Allah must have answered his prayers, for there was no moon visible in the cloudy skies.

  “We will separate and make our way to the horses,” Jamal whispered. “Try to avoid the sentries.”

  Jamal slipped past the sentry without being seen, and when no cry of alarm was given, he assumed Haroun was as successful as he in avoiding detection.

  Haroun had reached the horses first. Without a word they saddled their mounts and led them through a tangle of underbrush, around cedar, evergreen and oak trees. A safe distance from camp they mounted and went in search of Youssef’s hideout. Some time later they halted on a ledge overlooking a grassy slope.

  Jamal’s sharp gaze scanned the valley below, noting a break in the trees where a narrow river gouged a course out of the rock.

  “There they are, Haroun, below us,” Jamal pointed out. “Do you see the tents amid the trees?”

  Haroun studied the slope below and finally saw the outline of several tents.

  “I see them.”

  “I’m going down.”

  Jamal started down the slope. Haroun followed close behind. Youssef’s camp was so well hidden, Jamal was surprised the patrol had found it. But Ishmail’s highly trained Negro soldiers were famous for their tenacity and cunning. Jamal reined in at the edge of the campsite, in a thick grove of fir trees. He dismounted and handed his reins to Haroun.

  “I’m going the rest of the way on foot. Keep the horses quiet.”

  Jamal crept through the trees until he could see the entire camp spread out along the bank of the river. The campsite was so well concealed that only one sentry had been posted, and he was dozing against a tree.

  Jamal studied the alignment of tents, trying to figure out which one belonged to Zara. He noted one tent set apart from the others, and it was that dwelling on which Jamal concentrated. The night was still ink black, and it would be easy to slip into the tent without being seen.

  Then Allah rewarded him.

  The tent flap opened and Zara stepped outside. She had removed her turban, and her golden hair spilled down her back in glorious disarray. Jamal saw her walk the short distance to the narrow river and kneel down to wash her hands, face and neck. He smiled grimly and crept forward toward her tent. He glanced at the sentry, saw he was still dozing and slipped through the open flap.

  Zara finished her ablutions and retraced her steps to her tent. The night was peaceful. Too peaceful, she thought, but could find no reason for her disquiet. Families were sleeping together in their black tents and the single men were sprawled on the ground, wrapped in their blankets, their heads resting on their saddles. Her tent had been pitched a short distance away from the others, to afford her a modicum of privacy, and she approached it now with a strange foreboding. Since she saw nothing to cause her edginess, Zara ducked into her tent, secured the flap … and froze.

  She wasn’t alone.

  She sensed his presence moments before his hand covered her mouth and he hissed into her ear, “Do not struggle, sweet vixen. I mean you no harm.”

  Jamal! Despite his reassurance, she grappled with him, but was soon subdued by his superior strength. Fear raced through her. They had been found! Jamal would take her to Meknes, where she and Youssef would be punished in the most horrible way imaginable.

  “I’ll remove my hand if you promise not to scream. Heed me, Zara, I mean you no harm. I’ve come to help. Shall I remove my hand?”

  Zara nodded vigorously, though she didn’t believe his promise not to hurt her. But she would listen to him before calling for help. She wouldn’t accept death easily. She had more to protect now than her own life.

  Jamal removed his hand from her mouth. Then he turned her into his arms and brought her against him, resting his forehead against hers. “Praise Allah I found you before Captain Hasdai launches his attack. You have scant time to spare; they’ll be here at dawn. Gather your belongings. I’m taking you away from here now.”

  It was too dark in the tent for Jamal to see the obstinate expression on Zara’s face, but he could tell by her tone of voice that she wasn’t going to be convinced easily.

  “I’m not leaving.” She tried to pull away from him. “I have to warn Father.”

  “I’ll take you by force if I must,” Jamal warned, tightening his grip.

  “Call off the attack,” Zara pleaded. “If you can’t do that, then at least let me warn Father and our people. There are women and children in the camp. Have you no heart?”

  When her words seemed to make no impression on Jamal, she began to pound on his chest with her fists. In desperation she opened her mouth to scream. Jamal must have sensed her intention, for his mouth slammed down on hers, sucking the breath from her in a deep, drugging kiss that boldly proclaimed his need for her.

  A strangled sound escaped her throat as her pounding fists opened and slid around his neck, pressing closer to the heat of his mouth, losing herself in his kiss. These long, empty weeks without Jamal’s touch had been pure torture. She’d told herself time and again that she hated him, but her heart wouldn’t be convinced. When his tongue nudged her lips apart and plunged inside, she caught fire. Suddenly there was no tomorrow or yesterday. There was only today, this man, this hour, this minute.

  There was only desperate need.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zara felt a wild, uncontrollable longing to be with Jamal again, to have him inside her. She kissed him back, clinging to him, branding him with the hot pressure of her body.

  Jamal’s physical reaction was immediate and overwhelming. He wanted to press her down upon her pallet and thrust his rock-hard erection inside her. He wanted to devour her with his kisses; the glorious scent of her intoxicated him. Everything about her was purely female and wholly captivating.

  Nothing had changed, Zara thought in a brief lucid moment. Jamal had only to touch her and she came violently alive. The ache between her legs deepened and intensified, her nipples hardened, her breasts became heavy and sensitive to the slightest caress. She moaned and opened her mouth to the sweet entrance of his tongue.

  “Zara, sweet vixen,” Jamal groaned against her mouth as he pulled her down with him to her pallet.

  His mouth was fused to hers as he released the sash holding up her baggy trousers and pulled them down around her ankles. With a sweeping motion he hiked her shirt up to her neck. His mouth moved down to lick her nipples as he raised himself slightly and shed his own trousers, too impatient to remove his boots and pull them all the way off.

  “I can’t wait,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Nor I. Hurry!” She arched upward, crying out as Jamal flexed his hips and thrust into her soft, wet center. She was hot, so very hot.

  He took her quickly, roughly, right there on the pallet, his passion white-hot and explosive. Zara writhed beneath him, rising up to meet his thrusts with blinding ardor, her hands roaming his flesh and her mouth returning his kisses. She met every swift, hard plunge of his hips and thrust of his tongue. She heard her own keening, moaning sounds as her body whirled out of control. He kissed her wildly, violently, as if he couldn’t get enough of her and wanted to absorb every sound of her pleasure into his body.

  He plunged and retreated, then plunged again … and again … and again. “Come, sweet vixen! Now! I can wait no longer.”

  Zara came in a mindless rush of molten heat
, consumed by fierce, aching ripples of pleasure that crested and grew and swept her into a place of blinding ecstasy. Her scream was muffled by Jamal’s mouth, just as Jamal’s hoarse shout was muffled by hers. His body stiffened as he pumped his wet seed into her.

  Long minutes passed before Jamal eased away and struggled to his feet. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. Allah help me, for I have no control where you’re concerned.” With an efficiency of motion he pulled up his trousers and fastened the sash. Then he reached down to help Zara. “Time is running out.”

  Still dazed from the violence of their loving, Zara allowed Jamal to help her to her feet and fasten the sash at her waist.

  “Come, we must leave quickly.”

  Zara finally found her voice. “I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere with you. I can’t leave my father. He needs me.”

  “You won’t do him any good if you’re dead,” Jamal said harshly. He wanted to shock her into compliance. “The sultan has nefarious plans for you and Youssef that will make you wish you were dead.”

  “My father—”

  “Even if he escapes now, Youssef won’t be able to help you. ’Tis only a matter of time before he’s caught. The sultan would like nothing better than to decorate his wall with Youssef’s head.”

  “Are you trying to frighten me?”

  “I’m being brutally honest. Put on your djellaba; we must leave immediately.” When she made no move to obey, he felt around in the darkness until he found her robe folded at the foot of the pallet and pulled it over her. Then he grasped her hand and dragged her toward the tent opening.

  Zara dug in her heels. “Father must be warned. There’s still time to get our people to safety.”

  Jamal deplored the use of violence and had no stomach for it, but Zara gave him no choice. Since she steadfastly refused to leave of her own free will, he was forced to take matters into his own hands. He hoped she would forgive him.