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

Their struggle brought the others running, appalled that Mustafa had deliberately disobeyed Jamal's orders. Ahmed tried to break up the fight, receiving a cut on his hand for his efforts. Over and over the combatants rolled on the ground. Despite being smaller than Mustafa and a fraction of his weight, Zara was holding her own. Mustafa got in one or two good punches, but Zara wielded her knife with dexterity. Mustafa was bleeding from several small cuts, and Zara's right cheekbone was swollen and purple.

Zara did not hear the sound of running foot- steps, or the commanding voice issuing crisp orders. She had no idea Jamal was nearby until Mustafa was pulled off her.

"Master," Mustafa said, bowing low. "Forgive me.

Zara looked up at Jamal from her position on the floor and recoiled in fear. His face was twisted into a mask of rage, terrible to behold. Haroun, his lieutenant, stood beside him, awaiting orders.

"Take Mustafa to the slave market in Meknes and sell him, Haroun," Jamal said with quiet menace. "Take him away now, before I kill him myself."

"Please, master," Mustafa begged, "it won't happen again."

"You're right, Mustafa, it won't happen again." He turned his back on the slave as Haroun dragged him away. Then he dropped to his knees beside Zara. "Are you all right?"

Still winded from her fight, Zara merely nodded.

"What was that all about? It seems I can't trust you out of my sight."

"I'm surprised you need to ask," Zara said bitterly. She tried to rise but was too shaky. It was then that Jamal saw the bloody knife in her hand.

"Where in Allah's name did you get that? Give it to me!"

Zara handed it to him; it had served its purpose. He helped her to her feet, grimacing when he saw the fresh bruises on her face. The bruises from the sultan's blows had just begun to fade. Rage welled up in him. Some men enjoyed striking women, but he wasn't one of them. Seeing Zara bruised and battered made him want to kill. Zara might be rash and foolish but she was not lacking in bravery. How much simpler his life would be if she but acted like a woman, taking her ease in the harem and sharing his couch at night.

"You can't stay here," Jamal said, coming to a decision. The sultan be damned. Zara could not remain in the stables. She was his slave and she would obey him.

Zara merely stared at him. What could she say? She didn't want to stay in the stables either, but she didn't like the alternative.

"Come with me. You stink of dung and sweat."

"Where are you taking me?"

Jamal noticed that the stable slaves were listening with avid interest. "Go back to your chores," he told them.

He waited until they were alone before answering Zara's question. "You know where I want you. Beneath me, in my bed."

"You can't force me."

Jamal gave her an amused grin. "I can. But I'd rather have you lie with me willingly."

Zara faced him squarely. "I'll never agree to that."

His voice was low and evocative. "We'll see, sweet vixen. Meanwhile, you can join my household staff. But first we have to rid you of the stink of the stables. I'll take you to the hammam, where you can bathe."

Taking her hand, Jamal led her away. They had reached the courtyard before Zara realized where he was taking her.

"You're taking me to the harem!"

"Aye, to the women's quarters. Nafisa will take care of you. She'll see that you're given proper clothing and a bed. Hammet can inform you of your duties tomorrow. Come along, Zara. Even you must realize there is a limit to your obstinateness."