"Shiek" - читать интересную книгу автора (Connie Mason)
"Tell them I will attend them in an hour, Hammet. If I am to please all three, perhaps you should prepare a vial of restorative. I've had a long, exhausting day."
Hammet bowed himself out of the room, leaving Jamal to anticipate the many delights to be had with his concubines. All three women were young, lush and ripe. He had chosen them expressly for their experience in the arts of love. But it wasn't Leila, Saha or Amar he wanted to make love to, it was a tall Berber vixen with the supple curves of an houri.
Zara stretched out on her bed of straw and groaned. Every bone in her body ached. She was filthy, smelled of dung, and felt exhausted beyond endurance. But those were the least of her problems. Even in the dark she could feel the avid dark eyes of her companions upon her, and despite the warm night, she shivered. Though she had spoken but briefly to the other stable slaves, Zara knew what they were thinking. She was fair game. Earlier she had heard them arguing over who would have her first, and she had hidden a pitchfork beside her in the straw before making her bed.
Despite her fear, Zara must have fallen asleep for she awoke abruptly to the sound of footsteps shuffling across the floor. She braced herself and reached for the pitchfork, somewhat comforted when her hand closed over the handle. Suddenly a body fell on top of her and she cried out. She might as well have remained mute for all the help it brought her.
"Quiet, woman," a voice rasped into her ear. "Our master sent you here to pleasure us, and since I am the strongest I will have you first."
It was Mustafa, a huge man with the strength of a bull. She had seen him lift an anvil today without breaking out in a sweat.
"Get off me, you stinking piece of camel dung! I was sent here to work, not to pleasure the sheik's stable slaves. Touch me and I will tell your master."
Her commanding voice captured his attention, but not for long. He groped her breasts, trying to rip her clothes aside to get to her bare skin. "Hold still, woman! Once I impale you with my mighty lance you will beg for more. I am as big as a horse. Whatever you did to displease our master is our gain."
He found the sash holding up Zara's pantaloons and released it, crying out in triumph when his hand encountered flesh as soft as silk. "Aiyee, tonight I will taste heaven. Open yourself for me, woman."
Digging into the straw, Zara's hand closed upon the pitchfork. Grasping it close to the shank, she brought it upward, thrusting it against Mustafa's chest.
Mustafa sprang away, impressed by Zara's bravery yet at the same time angry that a mere woman should talk to him so. "You are but one small woman against many. I have but to call my companions to hold you down while I take my pleasure."
Holding the pitchfork protectively aloft, Zara warned, "Try it and tomorrow your master will have your heads separated from your bodies."
Her words gave Mustafa pause. What if the master had put the woman to work in the stables as punishment for some minor infraction? To use her as Mustafa wanted might enrage the master, and then what would become of him? Sheik Jamal was a kind master and Mustafa would rather remain in his household than be sold, or possibly killed.
He rose slowly. The moment his weight was gone from her, Zara leaped to her feet. "Get out of my way!"
"Where do you go, lady?"
"To find a bed not infected with vermin like you."
Pitching aside her makeshift weapon, she held her pantaloons about her slim waist with one hand and ran from the stables, not daring to look back. Her knees were knocking together and she was trembling. Had Jamal truly sent her to the stables to pleasure his slaves?
Zara had no idea where she was going, except away from the stables. She'd rather sleep with pigs than be ravished by humans more foul than pigs. Unfortunately, Zara was trapped within the compound. The gates surrounding Paradise were guarded by Jamal's men-at-arms and too high to scale. She followed a moonlit path to the inner courtyard. Slipping through the arched entrance, Zara stared in awe at the lush gardens within the enclosure, and the sparkling pool fed by a fountain at its center.
Jamal's marble palace was built around the tiled courtyard, with all its rooms opening onto it. A covered walkway marched along all four sides of the square, held up by marble columns. Zara visualized Jamal's concubines walking, laughing and talking in the jewel-like setting, like fluttering birds amid the colorful blossoms.
But it was the pool that drew Zara. The night was warm, and she was filthy and sweaty beneath her clothing. Her own stench offended her. Glancing about, she saw no movement within the palace. She supposed Jamal was frolicking in the harem with his concubines and not likely to leave any time soon. She gazed longingly at the pool. It proved too inviting to resist.
Creeping to the edge of the pool, Zara removed her djellaba, shirt and pantaloons and eased into the water. Though the water only reached her knees, it felt like heaven. In the center of the fountain a fat cherub knelt on a pedestal, holding an ewer from which a steady stream of cool, clear water spewed forth.
Zara waded to the fountain, raised her face to the moon and let the water spill down upon her. She lamented the lack of soap and scent to rub upon her skin, but the cool water was enough to restore her.
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