"Shiek" - читать интересную книгу автора (Connie Mason)

Jamal grasped Zara's arm, pulling her aside. "Assad is right. You must do as you're told and keep a civil tongue in your mouth. Moulay Ishmail is so enraged at your father, 'tis unlikely he'll show compassion to Youssef's daughter."

Zara swallowed her angry retort, realizing she would gain nothing by antagonizing the sultan's household. "I thought I was your captive."

Jamal gazed into her vivid green eyes and wished it were so. "Nay, you were never mine. I merely held you in the sultan's name. After I make my report I will leave you in his care and return to my oasis home. I am not the master of your fate."

"I will take my chances with the sultan," Zara said haughtily. She nodded at Assad. "I'm ready. Take me where you will."

Jamal watched her walk away, her head held high, her pointed little chin refusing to lower, and a shiver of dread passed through him. The stubborn little wench didn't realize the danger she was in. As angry as Ishmail was with her father, Jamal wouldn't give a fig for her future. If he could but gag her he might have a slim chance of saving her life, but the brazen Berber vixen would have her say no matter what. The sultan had no use for women with cutting tongues, and Jamal feared that the consequences would not be to Zara's liking.





Zara found the harem beyond anything she'd ever seen: floors covered with thick woolen carpets, so colorful they hurt her eyes, walls hung with silks and satins, divans upholstered in rich velvets. And women. Allah, the women were too numerous to count. Short, tall, fat, plump, slim, they were dressed in vivid peacock colors and pale pastels, flowing silks, satins and brocades.

Some women lounged on divans or sat on pillows upon the floor. Others were bathing naked in a sparkling pool in the center of the main room. Several attendants dressed in coarse robes bustled about, catering to the demands of their charges. Assad beckoned to an older woman and she hurried over to them.

"Badria is the mistress of the bath. She will see that you are refreshed and fed something before you appear before the sultan."

Zara and Badria eyed one another warily. Badria found her tongue first. "You wear the robes of a Berber warrior."

"Aye, I am a Berber warrior," Zara proudly admitted.

Suddenly Badria snatched away Zara's headdress, releasing a cascade of hair the color of corn silk that reached nearly to her waist. Badria gazed in mute admiration at the combination of oval green eyes, smooth golden skin and hair that shimmered like sunlight.

"I know of no warriors who look like you and I've lived a long time," Badria contended. "Who are you?"

"I am Princess Zara, daughter of the great cadi Youssef."

Badria's breath hissed through her teeth. "You're the Berber chieftain's daughter? Allah save us."

The harem wasn't so isolated from the world that Badria didn't know what was taking place outside the walls. There were numerous ways of finding out things. Eunuchs and slaves could always be bribed to bring back news of importance.

"I am hungry," Zara said boldly. "Bring me food."

The women lounging within earshot snickered at Zara's imperious manner while secretly admiring her bravado.

"You'll bathe first, then food," Badria said, wrinkling her nose as if sniffing something offensive. "You reek of camel dung and dirt. Take off your robes. I'll find you something decent to wear."

Zara was reluctant to remove the badge of her people. Once she shed the distinctive blue robes, she would be just another woman. "You may shake the dust from my robes but I will wear them to meet the sultan."

"You're a foolish young woman," Badria contended. "Appearing before the sultan dressed like a man will surely anger him. If you wish to impress himтАФ"

"I have no desire to impress the sultan," Zara claimed, interrupting Badria in mid-sentence. "I am Princess Zara, daughter of Youssef. I'm well aware of my fate. Do not badger me, mistress. I will bathe and eat and face the sultan in my own clothing."

Never in all her years had Badria met a more obstinate creature. So be it, she thought, disgruntled. At least she'd tried to save the Berber vixen. Defying the Sultan was not wise.

Zara allowed Badria to disrobe her, paying little heed to the woman's gasp of shock and outrage when she noted that Zara's body hair had not been removed.