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

For some unexplained reason Jamal wanted to tear Zara away when Ishmail reached out to test the weight and size of her breasts. Ishmail's hands didn't stop at Zara's breasts but continued downward, across her torso and flat stomach, lower still, gliding over the material of her pantaloons to thrust between her legs. Jamal was on the verge of doing something entirely reckless, like snatching Zara away from the sultan, but Zara made his intervention unnecessary.

Screwing up her face, she shot a wad of spittle into the sultan's face. "Son of a pig! Camel dung! Take your filthy hands off me!"

Blood rushed to Ishmail's dark face as he flung his arm back and delivered a stunning blow to Zara's face, sending her flying. She landed in a heap at his feet.

"Seize the Berber she-devil!" he cried, wiping spittle from his face. "The spawn of a jackal deserves no mercy from me."

Immediately two guards rushed forth, dragging Zara to her feet between them. The right side of her face had turned red and was already beginning to swell from the sultan's blow.

Panic raced through Jamal. He'd feared that something like this would happen. He'd tried to warn Zara against defying Ishmail but she'd chosen not to heed him. He searched frantically for a way to save Zara from a terrible fate but could think of nothing.

"The Berber wench is beyond redemption," Ishmail declared. "She would disrupt my entire harem should I decide to use her body for my pleasure. She isn't worth the effort. Cut off her head and hang it from the wall for all to see," he ordered brusquely. "Word of her fate will reach her father, and when it does he will realize Moulay Ishmail will not tolerate treason."

The guards started to drag Zara from the hall.

"Wait!" Jamal cried, growing desperate. It had never occurred to him that Ishmail might kill the Berber princess. He had assumed that Ishmail would either enslave her or keep her for his bed. "You're making a mistake. Killing Zara will enrage Youssef. Presently the Berber tribes are not united, but killing the wench will surely bring them together in a common cause, and that could be disastrous for you. Think of the vast number of Berbers scattered throughout the Rif and Atlas Mountains, and imagine them uniting under one leader."

"Perhaps you're right," Ishmail allowed as he halted Zara's progress from the hall with a wave of his hand. The guards obeyed instantly, dragging Zara back to the dais.

"Think carefully, my lord," Jamal intoned solemnly. "Spare the Berber wench. Keep her as a slave and make it known that her continued health depends on Youssef's obedience. Word will reach Youssef that his daughter will live only if he ceases his raids upon your caravans."

"Hummm," Ishmail said, rubbing his chin in contemplation. "I see what you mean, but I don't want the wench in my household. She has the body and face of an houri but she is a menace. She is undisciplined, brazen and defiant and would disrupt my entire household. She's too incorrigible to make a decent slave." Suddenly his face lit up. "I have it! I will give her to the lowest-ranking man residing within the Kasbah. She will become his slave, submissive to his every need. Is that not a clever solution, Jamal? If I recall, the Negro blacksmith is a huge giant of a man. He will do nicely for Zara.

"As long as Zara is kept alive, her father will cease his raiding," Ishmail continued. "Yet her defiance will be rewarded by having to submit to a man far beneath her in rank. I will make it known that Youssef's daughter is my captive, that her continued good health will depend upon Youssef's willingness to abide by my laws. All raids must cease immediately."

"You would give Princess Zara to Abdul?" Jamal asked, aghast. He knew the man well; he was an animal. A strong-willed woman like Zara wouldn't last a week with him.

"A perfect match, wouldn't you agree?" Ishmail said complacently.

"Slay me now," Zara cried. She had remained mute as long as she could. "I will become no man's slave!"

"Silence, lady, or you'll get your wish. Take her away and present her to Abdul with my good wishes," Ishmail told the guards.

"Wait!" Jamal demanded. "I have a better solution. Give the Berber wench to me. I have need of another slave."

Ishmail frowned as he mulled over Jamal's request. "Why do you wish to burden yourself with such a troublesome slave? Let Abdul tame her. Abdul is a better master than Youssef's daughter deserves."

"Youssef will demand proof that his daughter is not being mistreated before he agrees to stop his raids. Can you be certain Abdul won't kill Zara after she cuts him to pieces with her sharp tongue?" He shook his head. "Nay, I think not. Youssef has spies everywhere. He will know what is taking place."

"The princess has a magnificent body," Ishmail allowed. "Perhaps you can find some use for her. I can't be bothered with reluctant maidens, but you are young and vigorous and might enjoy the fight. Still... I will give her to you only if you promise to make her pay for defiling me with her spittle."

"Slay me and be done with it!" Zara spat.

Jamal sincerely wished he could gag Zara. Her mouth would be her undoing if she didn't shut up. "I will endeavor to teach Princess Zara humility, my lord, and administer discipline when necessary. As my slave, she will obey or suffer the consequences. For her affront to your person, she will toil in the stables for an indefinite period. She will rake dung alongside the stable slaves, sleep on straw and share their crude meals."

The sultan smiled. "That's a start, Jamal. Your haughty princess will soon learn who is master and who is slave. Once she is taught submission, she may prove useful in your bed, but I don't envy you that task."

"Then she is mine?" Jamal asked, concealing his pleasure. The sultan was a cruel and perverse man; one never knew where one stood with him.