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

Driven by some insatiable need, Jamal cupped the twin moons of her buttocks, molding her against him. The rise of his manhood stirred against her and suddenly he needed more. Holding her with one hand, he pushed inside her clothing with the other to caress her breast, testing the fullness of it, palm rubbing over the nipple.

He shook with a desire so potent it convulsed the length of his body. He wanted her naked beneath him, open to him in all ways. He wanted to teach her all the erotic subtleties of loving he'd learned from his travels abroad. He wanted her as his love slave, obedient to his every whim.

He wanted her.

Suddenly aware of Zara's pounding fists against his chest, Jamal finally returned to his senses. He set her firmly from him. He would have the Berber wench but on his own terms. She needed to be taught submission; she had to learn to obey her master.

Jamal's kiss had shaken Zara more than she cared to admit. His hands upon her made her want things that could never be. She cursed herself for a fool. Poor Sayed was not yet cold in his grave and here she was allowing the enemy to take liberties she had never allowed her betrothed. What manner of man was Jamal to confuse her senses so? For a brief moment, while his tongue was plundering her mouth and his hands caressing her flesh, she had wondered what it would feel like to take this man inside her body, to let him plumb her most secret places.

Pure bliss, a perverse devil inside her whispered.

The thought was sobering.

"We're wasting time here," Jamal said harshly. How had the little vixen gotten under his skin so quickly? he wondered. Allah forbid if she ever found out how susceptible he was to her willowy charms. He must need a woman desperately to get so worked up over a viper-tongued seductress. His concubines would soon cure him of his obsession with Zara, he thought, eagerly looking forward to his homecoming.

"My home lies two leagues west of Meknes," he told Zara. "We will leave immediately."





Zara was given a mount of her own, a pure white mare with a black star on her forehead. After riding camels most of her life, she found the gait of a horse less jarring and more restful. She was happy to leave the sultan's fortress behind but couldn't help worrying about her fate as Jamal's slave. She wouldn't mind working in the stables, if that was to be her lot. It was far better than having Jamal use her body for his pleasure. But after his amorous display in the palace, she was not so foolish as to believe he wouldn't take her whenever it pleased him. Her worst fear was that her unprincipled body would respond.

Sheik Jamal was far more experienced than she, and judging from her reaction to his kiss, he would wring a response from her whether she was willing or not.

They rode for nearly an hour before the sere brown landscape slowly gave way to palm and fig trees. A profusion of flowers and lush vegetation grew in abundance. Zara blinked, certain she was seeing a mirage when a huge body of water appeared ahead of her. But as they entered the vast oasis, Zara realized that the sparkling blue lake was no mirage. She gazed about in wonder. The oasis was huge, with a cluster of dwellings hugging the north shore of the lake. Jamal's palace was built on the south shore, sitting like a sparkling jewel amid verdant green vegetation. High, whitewashed walls surrounded the compound, and a bulb-shaped marble tower rose majestically from the center of the palace.

They passed through the gate into the compound itself. Beyond the tiled front courtyard Zara noted several other buildings. There were barracks to shelter Jamal's soldiers, a grainary, stables, servants' quarters and a separate kitchen.

Lush gardens of gardenias, camellias and Damascus roses sent perfumed scents wafting through the air. Beyond the house was an orchard that stretched to the edge of the oasis. A vineyard grew on one side of the stunning white marble palace.

"Welcome to Paradise," Jamal said as two stable slaves hurried forward to take their horses.

Zara merely sniffed, unwilling to admit her fascination with Jamal's grand home.

Haroun, Jamal's lieutenant, approached from the barracks, his face wreathed in a broad smile of welcome. He saluted and said, "Did all go well in Meknes? Your message told me little of the mission you were undertaking for the sultan. I should have been riding at your side."

"I had Ishmail's army at my disposal," Jamal said. "The sultan ordered me to capture the Berber cadi responsible for the raids upon his caravans. We set a trap, but the Berbers scattered into the hills when we appeared. Unfortunately, Youssef escaped."

Haroun's gaze settled disconcertingly on Zara. His eyes narrowed and his thick black brows rose upward in silent query. "Have you brought back a new slave? He doesn't look strong enough to be of much use."

Jamal laughed. "You're wrong, my fine friend, this particular slave is perfectly suited for what I have in mind." Then he surprised Haroun by ripping off Zara's turban and tossing it to the ground. Pale blond hair spilled out, framing her face in a halo of molten gold. "What think you now of my slave?"

"Allah and the Prophet!" Haroun said, bug-eyed with shock. "If the rest of her is as lovely as her face, she will outshine the loveliest pearl in your harem. Who is she?"

"I am Zara, daughter of Youssef, you gaping ass," Zara said imperiously.

The insult brought forth a burst of laughter from Jamal. "Zara has a sharp tongue, my friend. Watch lest she cut you to ribbons with it."