The Panther and The Pearl

by Doreen Owens Malek

  “I want to be inside you. Now,” he gasped, lifting her bodily and putting her on the bed. He stepped out of his pants and joined her, turning her face down and embracing her from the rear.

  “Kalid?” she said questioningly and he said, “Follow me,” as he pushed her knees up gently and then slipped his hands under her, lifting her to him. In the next second he entered her and Sarah closed her eyes, transfixed with pleasure. He was so deep inside her that she seemed to feel him at the mouth of her womb.

  “All right?” he gasped, moving, taking her with him.

  Sarah moaned helplessly in response.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Sarah whimpered in wordless protest. Then, “Don’t stop,” she managed to say.

  He didn’t, and by the time they were finished they were both covered with a light film of sweat, exhausted like long distance swimmers at the goal line. They lay supine for several minutes as their breathing slowed and heartbeats returned to normal. Then Kalid rose and pulled on his pants, pushing open the doors to the terrace. Sarah listened for several seconds but heard nothing further. She got up and slipped into Kalid’s discarded shirt, since her silk shift was in tatters on the floor. She followed him outside and found him leaning over the stone balustrade, looking down at the tiled courtyard below him.

  “Kalid?” she said, and he turned to look at her, holding out one arm to embrace her. She came to him and he enfolded her, standing with his arms crossed over her breasts and her head tucked under his chin, her back against his chest.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked. “It’s so chilly after sundown.”

  “Desert climate,” he responded. “Hot all day, cold at night. Do you think you can get used to it?”

  “I’m already used to it. Boston isn’t exactly paradise, you know.It’s humid in the summer, freezing in the winter.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Kalid closed his eyes in relief at her response. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, saying, “What is this thing you are wearing?”

  “Your shirt. You didn’t leave me much else.”

  “You’re trembling, kourista. Should we go in now, are you chilled?”

  “No. It’s just...I don’t think I have recovered yet. My legs are still weak.”

  “I like to make you weak, kourista,” he said, his lips moving in her hair.

  She was silent for so long that he finally asked, “What’s wrong, Sarah?”

  She shrugged, but when he said quietly, “Tell me,” she responded by turning around and looking up at him.

  “You’ve made many women feel the way I did tonight. I can’t help thinking about all of your past lovers, wondering how I fit in with them.”

  “None of them were like you.”

  “But surely they were...better at it?” she asked.

  “Better at what?” he said teasingly, but when she didn’t smile he said, “No, they weren’t.”

  “But they were trained, skilled in the art of love...”

  “And that’s why it’s so different with you. Can you imagine what it does to me to know that I’m the first man who has touched you this way? That I’m the first man to receive your intimate caresses?”

  “But that’s what I mean, Kalid. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Yes, you do. Desire guides you, and desire is the best teacher of all.”

  “You’re the best teacher of all,” Sarah said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the mouth.

  “That’s because I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he said simply, pressing her to him fiercely.

  She relaxed into his arms, and it was several seconds before he realized that she was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he said, holding her off to look at her. The oil lanterns at the corners of the terrace cast flickering shadows on her face.

  “I was thinking about the first night I was here, after you took me from the Sultan’s harem. I was so afraid of you when I was brought to see you.” She lifted a lock of lustrous black hair from his brow and stroked it into place.

  “You didn’t seem afraid. As I recall, you slapped me.”

  “It was an act.”

  “You were very convincing. I thought you hated me.”

  “I never hated you, Kalid. I wanted to, which is a very different thing.”

  “And why did you want to hate me, Miss Margaret Sarah Woolcott of Boston?” he asked.

  “Because of the way you got me here. Because of the way you made me feel.”

  “I made you feel the strong urge to kill me,” he said smilingly, swinging her in his arms.

  “Sometimes. But more often you made me feel that I would melt if you touched me.”

  “And that scared you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why ‘of course’? Many women would be thrilled to have such a reaction to a man.”

  “A man who had drugged them and kidnapped them?”

  “I didn’t kidnap you. I purchased you, according to the practice of my country.”

  “Well, it’s not the practice of MY country. Can’t you understand that I was horrified to feel myself so drawn to a man who had behaved in such a primitive way?”

  “And now you no longer think me primitive?” he asked, looking down at her.

  “Now I think of you as my lover,” Sarah said, and rubbed her face on his bare shoulder, luxuriating in the scent and texture of his warm, satiny skin. She ran her tongue along the line of his collarbone, then kissed the hollow of his throat.

  “Keep doing that and there will be no more conversation,” he said tightly.

  “I think we’ve talked enough, don’t you?” she replied, running her hand under the waistband of his pants.

  He sucked in his breath. “I agree,” he said, and took her by the hand, leading her back inside.

  “So you will be staying with us, Sarah?” Kosem said, puffing on her pipe.

  “I can’t imagine leaving Kalid now,” Sarah replied. They were sitting in Kosem’s suite as the older woman went through one of her many jewelry boxes, deciding which of the sparkling items no longer interested her. They could then be passed on to the other women of the harem.

  “Because he rescued you from the gypsies?”

  “Because I want to be with him all the time.”

  “But what about your family?” Kosem asked carefully, not looking at Sarah.

  “My cousin James obviously doesn’t care about me,” Sarah replied sadly, thinking about the note from Roxalena brought to her by the bundle woman. “I have been gone for some time and there’s been no word from him. I guess I should forget about my past and make a new life here.”

  Kosem said nothing, raising her eyes.

  “Why are you looking at me that way?” Sarah said. “You’ve been trying to persuade me to stay from the moment I arrived.”

  “It’s true that I want you to remain with Kalid and produce an heir,” Kosem said.

  “So?”

  Kosem didn’t answer, merely held up a diamond clip for Sarah’s inspection.

  Sarah shook her head.

  Kosem tossed the clip onto the discard pile. “If you knew you were missed at home would it make a difference?” Kosem said casually.

  Sarah eyed her narrowly. “What are you getting at?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Getting at?”

  “What do you want to know?” Sarah translated.

  Kosem shrugged. “What about your job?”

  “When I didn’t show up for the start of the new school year I think the school board figured out that they had to hire somebody else,” Sarah said dryly.

  “What is the school board?”

  “Never mind about that. Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  Kosem stood abruptly, setting the jewel box aside. “Isn’t it time for you to dress for your riding lesson? My grandson will be waiting for you.”

  Sarah r
ose also, more slowly. “I suppose so,” she said, still wondering what the wily old lady her on her mind.

  “Go, then,” Kosem said, making a shooing motion.

  Sarah left, and as soon as she was gone the vaslide pashana summoned one of the eunuchs from the hall.

  “Send Turhan Aga to me in the pasha’s audience room,” she said to him, getting up to change and move to the public area of the palace to greet the captain.

  When the Captain of the Halberdiers arrived Kosem was dressed appropriately and waiting for him.She said to him briskly, “Turhan, I want you to take this letter to the address I have written on the front. It’s in Constantinople.” She withdrew an envelope from her hanging sleeve.

  “Constantinople, mistress?” Turhan said. It was some distance away.

  “Yes, and I want you to take it yourself. Don’t send one of your men, and don’t tell anyone else where you are going.”

  “Including the pasha?”

  “Especially the pasha.”

  Turhan looked worried. “Mistress, I cannot take such a big responsibility...”

  “I will take the responsibility.”

  “How shall I explain my absence?”

  “I will explain it, I will handle everything. I would trust this mission to no one but you, Turhan. Now go, I want you to leave immediately.”

  Turhan accepted the envelope and then bowed his way out of the room.

  Kosem watched his exit with a concerned expression, lacing her fingers tightly.

  She didn’t know if she had made the right decision. Kalid planned to conceal the truth from Sarah; he didn’t want her to know that her cousin had been trying to see her. But Kosem’s respect and affection for Sarah had grown over the time they had known each other; as much as she wanted Sarah to stay, she found that she could not be a party to this deception. Sarah should be able to make her decision based on all the facts. If the knowledge that her family was pursuing her persuaded her to go back to Boston because she still had a life there, then it was in the stars that she should leave. Kalid was a man desperately in love, willing to do anything to keep his woman with him, but Kosem saw the situation clearly. Sarah deserved to be treated like an adult making a decision based on all the facts, not like a child whose life had to be organized for her.

  Kosem stood and folded her arms into her sleeves. Her hands were trembling. If Kalid found out what she had done, and Sarah left as a result of it, his wrath would be terrible. Even his longstanding affection for his grandmother would not bar him from punishing her, and his word was the final one in Bursa.

  But Kosem still felt a curious satisfaction in taking action. From birth all decisions had been made for her by men, and Sarah had shown her that there was a different way to live. As much as she shook her head and chided the younger woman for her independence, Kosem had come to admire it.

  With this action, she had adopted some of it for herself.

  Kalid watched as Sarah approached the jump, then called out, “Show some confidence, kourista. The horse can tell if you’re afraid to run with him.”

  Ousta ran at the obstacle and then pulled up short, dodging to the side and running around it. The horse slowed to a walk and then trotted to a stop next to Kalid.

  “I’ll never be able to do it,” Sarah said, sighing as Kalid lifted her down to the ground and then handed the reins to a groom.

  “Yes, you will. You’ve only been riding a short while and already you want to take the highest jump in the paddock. You must be patient, Sarah. It takes time to learn any skill.” He put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her to him.

  “I didn’t think I would like it this much,” she admitted.

  “Riding?” he said, arching one black brow.

  She dropped her head to his shoulder. “Speaking of new skills,” she murmured.

  “Yes?”

  “I think I’d like to practice.”

  “Practice what?” he said, grinning.

  “Don’t be obtuse, Kalid,” she said, dragging him by the hand toward the barn.

  “Obtuse? Is that an American word?”

  Sarah pulled him through the double wooden doors and said to the guards in Turkish, “Don’t let anyone come in here unless it’s an extreme emergency.”

  The guards looked at Kalid, who nodded.

  “You’re getting very good at giving orders,” he said to her, laughing as the horses stamped in their stalls and a startled groom’s boy looked up from polishing a saddle as they entered.

  “Go outside, Ousta needs to be rubbed down and watered,” Kalid said to the boy, who bowed and fled.

  Sarah helped Kalid bar the entrance from the inside. Then she flung herself on him and tore at the buttons of his shirt.

  “Where is shy Sarah?” he said teasingly, as she pulled the shirttails loose from his pants. “Where is that oh so proper New England miss?” He held her loosely as she undressed him, enjoying her eagerness.

  “She’s dead,” Sarah replied, shoving aside the material of his shirt and kissing his chest, tonguing the flat nipples surrounded by dense dark hair. “We buried her in the bedouin hills.”

  Kalid stood still as she pulled the sleeves off his arms and tossed the shirt aside.

  He could only hope that was the truth.

  She reached for the buttons of his fly and he stayed her hand. “Let me,” he said. “You always fumble with it.”

  “My hands shake,” she said.

  “And why do your hands shake?” he asked rhetorically, taking one of them and placing it inside the opening he had created. She touched him and he closed his eyes.

  “Where?” he said thickly.

  Sarah looked around and saw an empty stall. “There,” she said, nodding toward it.

  He grabbed a horse blanket and spread it on the straw, then tumbled her onto the makeshift bed. In seconds he had disposed of her riding blouse and split skirt, flinging them aside and then pulling her to him.

  “I can never seem to get enough of you,” he said, yanking her chemise down to her waist and pressing his face to her breasts, his mouth busy. His free hand crept up her hip and over her thigh, finding the secret place between her legs that drove her mad with pleasure. She yearned toward him, gasping as he caressed her.

  “Don’t make me wait,” she whispered, pulling him on top of her, reaching for him greedily, feeling him pulse in her hand.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said, moaning as she guided him to her. She wrapped her legs around his hips but he held back.

  “Tell me,” he said. “I need to hear you say it.”

  She whispered in his ear and he entered her forcefully at the same time.

  “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Yes, I will.”

  After that they forgot everything but each other.

  “What’s that sound?” Sarah said drowsily, rubbing her cheek on Kalid’s chest.

  “Mmmnh,” Kalid said. He was almost asleep.

  “Can’t you hear that? It sounds like water dripping.”

  Kalid listened obediently. “It’s the horse trough,” he said. “It’s just under that window behind us.”

  Sarah raised her head. “I don’t know how I’m going to walk past all those people outside, Kalid. They must know what we’ve been doing in here.”

  Kalid chuckled. “You weren’t worried about that earlier, as I recall.”

  She punched his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I’m not making fun of you. They’re servants, they’re trained to keep their mouths shut.”

  “But what will they think?”

  “Who cares what they think?” Accustomed to the presence of servants, he had long ago ceased to see them except when he wanted something.

  “Send them all away.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  “You heard me, Kalid. Send them someplace before I have to go out there.”

  Muttering to himself, he got up and pulled on his clothes, then unbarred the door. She saw him
go out and heard his voice issuing commands in rapid succession. Seconds later he returned, shaking his head.

  “You are ridiculous, kourista.”

  “Yes, I know. Just chalk it up to false modesty.”

  “Everyone at the palace knows you are the ikbal. They have already figured out what we do together.”

  “Not five feet away in a horse barn.”

  “It was you who wanted to come in here!” he said, exasperated, his hands on his hips.

  “Stop being so logical,” Sarah said, irritated. She was throwing on her clothes, pulling pieces of hay out of her hair and turning up her nose at the horsy smell she had recently acquired.

  “Just when I think you have gotten over all that Victorian nonsense you have an episode like this,” he said, watching as she stepped into her skirt.

  “Blame it on my Puritan ancestors,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “The Puritans, they came from England and settled in Massachusetts about two hundred years ago. They were very strict about...” She stopped.

  “Sex?” he suggested.

  “Among other things,” she said, buttoning her blouse.

  “And I suppose you have inherited those tendencies?” he said, amused.

  “Not inherited. It’s in the atmosphere, in the way you are raised. Like you growing up knowing that you would be the pasha one day and everyone in Bursa would have to obey you.”

  “I fail to see what that has to do with your attack of shyness before a bunch of servants.”

  “Well, there’s a connection, believe me,” Sarah said, shaking out her hair.

  “You must learn to do whatever you want, whenever and wherever you want to do it.”

  “That sounds like the philosophy of a spoiled child,” Sarah retorted.

  “Or a pashana,” he said.

  She looked at him. “What?”