The Prince's Harem Box Set: The Prince's Harem Books 1-5
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The Prince’s Harem Box Set
by Carly Roberts
Featuring
Book 1: The New Princess
Book 2: The Unruly Princess
Book 3: The Seductive Princess
Book 4: The Reluctant Princess
Book 5: The Eternal Princess
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Copyright 2017 Carly Roberts
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is coincidental.
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Table of Contents for Box Set
Book 1: The New Princess
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
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Book 2: The Unruly Princess
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
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Book 3: The Seductive Princess
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
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Book 4: The Reluctant Princess
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
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Book 5: The Eternal Princess
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
The New Princess
The Prince’s Harem: Book 1
by Carly Roberts
Chapter One
It had been a long day.
I stood in the center of the room, too tired to move, while the rest of the Samarkand Prince’s harem bustled around me, getting ready for bed.
I was worn out with the stress of the day. The nerves that had plagued me for months ever since my father had told me I was to marry the Prince of Samarkand had reached a peak that morning. I had been unable to eat any breakfast, filled with fear about my wedding day, and what would happen once I belonged to the Prince.
It didn’t help that everyone kept telling me I was lucky to be marrying Prince Tashfin ibn Ali. “He is so young and handsome,” my mother had whispered to me as she had helped me dress that morning. “You are the luckiest girl in the world!”
But I didn’t feel the luckiest. Unable to choose a husband for myself, I had been sold like a slave to the highest bidder, who in this case happened to be the Prince. Everyone told me he was the most powerful man in the whole of Persia, but all I knew was that once we were married, I would be his to do with as he pleased.
If he chose to mistreat me, to be cruel, or to hurt me, who was going to stop him? Not my father, certainly. Nobody would be coming to my rescue if the Samarkand Prince turned out to be a tyrant.
I hadn’t even met him until a few hours ago. The day had been a blur of ritual and ceremony. I had been introduced to thousands of people who had come to pay their respects to the Prince’s new wife, and I couldn’t remember a single one of them. I had only met the Prince when it came to the actual wedding ceremony.
My mother had instructed me to keep my gaze lowered at all times, but I had risked a glimpse up at him. He was very tall, and easily the most handsome man I had ever seen, with a neat, dark beard and deep brown eyes.
Those eyes had met mine for a brief moment, and heat had rushed through me from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair at the notion that this man was my husband, and I belonged to him. His gaze had seared into mine, and I had lowered my eyes quickly in case he grew angry with me. If I did what he commanded, I hoped he might be kind to me. That was my plan—whether it would work, I would soon find out.
After the ceremony, the Prince had been kept busy with the important visitors who had come from all four corners of the country, and I had not seen him again. After many hours of eating, drinking, and entertainment, the household had retired, and I had been taken to join his harem, where I would be spending the rest of my life.
The marble floor was cool, and my toes curled inside my soft slippers. The torches flickered in the sconces on the walls, shadows dancing across the tiles. I wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep, but even as my eyelids drooped and my shoulders sagged, someone approached and stood before me.
“My name is Farah,” she said. She was young, like me, maybe a year or two older, with lovely eyes fringed with long, dark lashes. “I am another of the Prince’s wives.”
“Hello,” I said shyly. “I am Alesha.”
“I know.” She smiled and held out a hand. “I am to help prepare you for the Prince. Come, let me take you to the baths.”
Immediately, any notion of sleep fled as my heart began to pound. I took her hand and followed her across the room and down a long corridor. My father’s house was impressive, but nowhere near as grand as the Prince’s palace.
As I had approached Samarkand by camel, the city had risen out of the oasis like a mirage, shimmering in the heat, the skyline filled with domes and minarets. The palace had glowed within it like a jewel, the clay walls faced with glazed tiles that glittered in the sun.
Inside it had hundreds of rooms with cool marble floors, large impressive pillars, and white walls decorated with blue and gold patterns.
Farah took me into a room, the center of which consisted of steps down into a large, sunken bath filled with a milky white liquid that smelled of perfume. I recognized the scents—rose oil and sandalwood, extremely expensive, brought all the way from India.
Several eunuchs stood guard around the room, and four or five female slaves waited, their arms filled with soaps, cloths, and towels, and a variety of clean clothing.
Farah stopped and turned to me, and began to unbutton the beautiful wedding gown that my mother, sisters and I had worked so hard on for hours, stitching it with golden thread and tiny beads and pearls until it looked fit for the wife of the Prince of Samarkand.
I looked around the room, half-expecting to see the Prince there, but there was no sign of him. “Will my…our husband be joining us?” I whispered the words, not wanting to appear foolish, but needing to know what was going to happen.
“First, we will bathe you.” Farah popped the buttons through the holes. “Then when you are prepared, we will take you to Prince Tashfin.”
She glanced up and paused for a moment, bringing up a hand to cup my cheek. “Do not look so worried! He is a good man. You are very lucky to be part of his harem.”
“So everyone keeps telling me,” I mumbled.
She gave a little laugh and continued with the buttons. “You will see. If you please him, you will have nothing to worry about.”
“What if I don’t please him?” The fear that had resided in my belly for so long rose again li
ke a snake. “What if I don’t know how?”
“Do not worry. I will be there. I will tell you what to say and do.”
She finished unbuttoning the gown and one of the slaves helped her to tug the gown off my shoulders. It fell to the floor, and I stepped out of it.
Farah took the hem of the white cotton tunic I wore beneath the dress and lifted it up and over my head, then pulled down my underwear, leaving me naked.
I watched her remove her clothing too. She had a slim but curvaceous body, and her breasts were bigger than mine. When she was naked, she took my hand and led me down the steps into the bath.
I sank into the perfumed hot water, conscious of the silky swirl of it against my limbs. Farah beckoned a slave toward her and took one of the cloths, dipped it into the water, and proceeded to wash my skin.
I sat stiffly, too nervous to relax. “Tell me about our husband,” I said as she smoothed the cloth over my shoulders and back.
“He is young, and very fit and strong.” She spoke proudly. “He has fought in many battles and killed many men. He is very well respected throughout Persia. He is also very clever—he has built an observatory to study the stars. He is skilled in mathematics and history, and he can speak four languages too.”
My eyes widened. My father had trouble speaking one language, and no person had ever called him clever. He claimed to have fought in battle, but I suspected he sat behind his soldiers and let them do all the work.
I swirled the water before me. “How many wives does the Prince have?”
“You are his fourth wife. He chooses only the most beautiful women. You should be honored that he chose you.” She squeezed water from the cloth and began on my other arm.
“He chose me?” This was news to me—I’d thought myself a business deal offered by my father to secure land.
“Of course. He had heard of your great beauty, and he sent ambassadors to your father to ask for your hand in marriage.”
I said nothing for a while, digesting this information. The Prince himself wanted me for a wife? I couldn’t deny the glow that gave inside me.
I felt a new warmth toward my husband that I had not yet experienced. Until now, I’d born a seed of anger and resentment deep inside me at the thought of being married. I knew it was my duty, but as a young woman I’d dreamed of meeting a man and falling in love first. My father had torn that dream into shreds, and I’d hated him for it.
I’d watched my mother and my father’s other wives over the years, and seen their unhappiness. I’d anticipated spending the rest of my life married to a man I feared and hated.
For the first time since I’d heard about my marriage, I felt a shiver of hope that maybe it didn’t have to end in tears.
I wanted to be a good wife. I wanted to be like Farah, who clearly loved her husband.
“Are you his favorite?” I asked curiously.
Her lips curved and a lovely blush spread across her cheeks. “He does not have favorites, but I please him, and he enjoys his time with me.”
“How should I please him?” I needed to know.
Farah washed my back with long, gentle strokes. “You must understand that the Prince is a man of great appetites. He enjoys giving and receiving pleasure.” She drew the cloth around my waist, her breasts brushing my back. “You must place your trust in him and do whatever he tells you, even though at first you might feel worried or afraid. Do you understand?”
I nodded and swallowed. “What is he going to do to me?”
She moved in front of me, and an impish smile crossed her face, but she must have seen the fear in my eyes because once again she cupped my cheek, her eyes kind. “Do you know what happens between a man and his wife? Has anyone ever explained it to you?”
“My mother described the act, yes.” I suppressed a shudder.
To my surprise, Farah chuckled. “I can promise it will be much better than your mother described. I have seen your father!” She giggled, and a smile curved my lips.
“The Prince is young and virile,” she continued. “He is an excellent lover, and he is not a cruel or vicious man. You must not worry, Alesha. You are going to be very happy here.”
Some of my nerves evaporated. Farah looked healthy and happy—I was sure she wouldn’t mislead me by telling me lies.
Still, I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen in the Prince’s bedchamber. My mother had made me watch a bull mate with a cow in the field, and she had not spoken of pleasure when she described the act, only of duty and responsibility.
“Will it hurt?” I bit my bottom lip.
Farah tipped her head from side to side as she rinsed the cloth. “Perhaps for a very short time. Like when they remove hair with wax, you know? One quick thrust and ouch! That will be it. You must do your best to relax—that will make it hurt less.”
Relax! One quick thrust! I thought about the bull and the cow. How could I possibly relax? I quivered as a fresh bout of nerves ran through me.
Farah sighed. She had round, ripe breasts, and the dusky nipples looked soft and swollen in the warm water. She moved close to me, and as her nipples brushed against my breasts, they tightened into firm buds.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine. “Does this hurt?” she whispered.
“No.” My lips parted at the sensation of her soft mouth on mine. I had never been kissed before, by man or woman.
I held my breath as she kissed from one corner of my lips across to the other, then back to the center. I felt a quick flick of her tongue across them, and I inhaled sharply.
She drew back, her dark eyes sultry. “Did that hurt?”
I shook my head, puzzled by these strange new feelings. “No.”
Raising a hand, she cupped my breast and brushed a thumb across my nipple. “Does this hurt?” she murmured.
I shook my head, swallowing as a strange tingle shot from my nipple down to between my legs. I watched her take my nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and she squeezed it, quite hard. I gasped.
“Did that hurt?”
I swallowed. “A little, but…” My cheeks grew warm. “It was nice, too.”
She dropped her hand. “This is just a glimpse of the delights the Prince will be showing you. So you have nothing to fear. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” My heart raced. Farah suggested physical pleasures awaited me that I had never experienced before. Sometimes my sisters had whispered when we lay in our beds at night about things they had heard about the sexual act, but none of us had known whether it was all just rumor or whether any of it was true.
“Come,” Farah said, picking up the cloth. “Let me finish washing you.”
Chapter Two
She passed the cloth across my breasts, down over my stomach, and between my legs, her hands firm but tender. I let her do what she wanted, too shy and unsure of my position in the harem to protest, and anyway, I was enjoying her touch, the slide of the cloth over my sensitized skin, the wash of the water around my limbs.
By the time she’d finished, I was tingly and shivery, an ache growing between my thighs that left me panting and desperate for more…although of what, I still wasn’t sure.
She led me up the stairs out of the bath, and the slaves dried me, then lowered a beautiful loose blue tunic over my head. The silk whispered across my skin, shimmering in the lamplight.
“Now your hair.” Farah unpinned my dark locks and spread them around my shoulders, then brushed them for a while until my hair gleamed. Finally, she took a blue gauzy scarf edged with gold ribbon and covered my head, pinning the veil behind each ear, leaving just my eyes showing.
“You have the most beautiful green eyes,” she whispered. “I am not surprised the Prince chose you.” She straightened my tunic, her expression turning wistful. “Your first time with him. I envy you this moment. Make the most of it.”
Her words surprised me. She envied me this first time?
Clearing her throat, she gave me a firm look. “Now, a f
ew rules. The Prince is a powerful man, used to being obeyed. If he speaks to you, you must always finish your answer with the words ‘my Prince’.”
“Am I allowed to look at him?”
“Do not look him in the eye unless you bids you do so. He probably will—do not be afraid if he does. I will let you into a little secret, Alesha. The Prince likes his wives to be gentle and dutiful, but he also likes them a little bold.” She grinned.
I nodded, growing more breathless with each moment.
“Your role as his wife is to serve his every need, whatever he requires,” she continued. “You must always, always do whatever he asks of you. If you do that, you will be wonderfully happy here.”
“Thank you, Farah,” I said. “I appreciate your help.”
“We are all a family in the harem.” She took my hand and led me out of the bath chamber. “We take care of each other. The Prince is good to us. As wives we have greater status, but the Prince likes us all to be friends and support each other, wives and concubines.”
“I understand. Thank you, Farah.” Her words brought a lump to my throat. I had thought to be alone in the harem, an outsider, and to have to struggle to fit in. She suggested I would be part of a family, and that gave me a glow deep inside.
She led me along the corridor, our soft slippers making no noise on the marble floors. Torches danced in sconces on the wall casting long shadows across the tiles. We approached a pair of large blue doors. Outside stood two enormous eunuchs, their arms folded, faces somber. As we neared, however, one of them winked at me.
“Behave,” Farah scolded. “She is nervous.”
Both of the eunuchs’ lips twitched, but they said nothing and merely moved toward the doors.
“Ready?” she whispered.
I took a deep breath and nodded, and the eunuchs opened the doors and stood back.
Farah led me a few steps into the Prince’s bedchamber. Then she stopped, and I stopped beside her. I caught a quick glimpse of the Prince sitting at a large round table in the corner of the room along with several other men, talking in low voices. A slave stood near them holding a plate of food.
Farah clasped her hands together and kept her gaze on the floor, and I did the same, even though my breaths came quickly, and my mouth had gone dry.