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

"I'm escorting you back to the stables. Your companions will be told in no uncertain terms that you're not to be touched by them."

He grasped her arm and pulled her into the courtyard and out the gate. Zara dug in her heels. "I need a weapon. The pitchfork is too unwieldy to use effectively."

"You want me to give you a weapon?" Jamal asked with amusement. "I'm not stupid, Zara."

"What if I promise to use it only to protect myself? Do none of your slaves carry weapons?"

It was a logical question. Many of his slaves carried weapons, but only those loyal to him. Some even served as men-at-arms. "Only those I trust."

She gave him a guileless smile. "I'm a helpless woman. What harm can I do?"

Jamal gave a shout of laughter. "There's no denying you're a woman, sweet vixen, but helpless is not a word I would use to describe you. I told you I would speak with the slaves. After I finish with them, they will not dare to accost you."

Gripping her wrist firmly with one hand and the lamp with the other, he pulled her along with him to the stables. Once inside, he came upon one of the slaves sleeping in the straw and nudged him awake with his foot.

Abdul came up in a crouch, ready to defend himself. When he saw Jamal, he blanched and fell to his knees. "What is it, master, what have I done?"

"Rouse the others," Jamal ordered.

Within minutes all four slaves stood before him, glancing warily from Jamal to Zara. Ahmed, the stable master, stepped forward. "What have we done, master?"

Jamal pushed Zara forward. "Listen well, for I will say this but one time. Zara is to work, eat and sleep in the stables; she is not here for your pleasure. Abuse her at your own risk, is that clear?"

A look of silent communication passed among the slaves before Ahmed spoke for all of them. "We understand, master. Your new slave is safe with us."

Jamal nodded curtly, turned on his heel and strode from the stables. He should have gone directly to the harem to relieve his frustrations with his concubines, but he was no longer in the mood. For the first time in his memory he sought his bed without first easing himself with a woman, despite the fact that he needed one desperately. His sex ached and his lust was unappeased, but the woman he wanted was sleeping by choice on a bed of straw in the stables instead of reclining on a soft couch in the women's quarters.

Jamal had never met a woman quite like Zara. Her flesh was sweet and soft, her face lovelier than the moon and the stars, yet she insisted upon being treated as a man's equal. He had tasted her passion tonight and it had but whetted his appetite for more. Since he had no intention of freeing her any time soon, he was determined to seduce her and enjoy every minute of it.





Zara crawled into her bed of straw, still wary despite Jamal's warning to the stable slaves. Quiet settled over the dark stables. It was very late, and she was exhausted. She closed her eyes, ready to drop off to sleep, when she heard a noise and then a voice whispering into her ear.

"You are a slave like the rest of us, Berber wench. You may have opened your thighs for our master tonight, but he still brought you back to the stables to sleep. If you had pleased him you would be in the woman's quarters now, sleeping upon a soft bed."

Zara did not recognize the voice; it could be any one of the stable slaves. "Who are you?" The air around her did not stir; her tormentor was gone.





The next day Zara was given the foulest of chores. Ankle deep in dung, she raked and swept and mucked out the stalls. That night she fell asleep over her dinner, too exhausted to finish her meal. The next day was the same, and the day after that. Fearing the consequences of running into Jamal, she stayed away from the courtyard pool, using water from the well to wash the day's grime from her face and hands.

Zara did not like the way Mustafa continued to stare at her, as if she were a sweetmeat and he a starving man. At the end of the third day of back-breaking toil, a stroke of luck placed a weapon in her hand. She was at the well and found a knife someone had left in a basket of fruit. No one was nearby as she quickly snatched it up and hid it within the folds of her djellaba. The next day she had reason to be grateful for her good luck.

Mustafa had been goading her for days, somehow making sure that she was given the hardest and dirtiest chores. When he told her he would take over her work load as well as his own if she would lie with him, she spit in his face. Being shamed by a woman enraged Mustafa. He retaliated instinctively. He backhanded her with his hamlike hand, sending her flying against a stall. Regaining her feet in a crouch, Zara pulled her knife and flew at Mustafa, though he was three times her size.