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

"Riddled with disease!" Zara cried, shrugging off Jamal's restraining hand as she leaped at Amar. The lovely concubine fell beneath Zara's surprise attack before Jamal could pull her away.

"That's enough!" Jamal said, giving Zara a shake. "You will behave or return to the stables."

"I'm not diseased," Zara muttered angrily.

"She's vicious," Amar said, picking herself off the floor and setting her silk veil back in place. "She will not make a good slave, my lord. She needs a beating."

Jamal agreed wholeheartedly. "Zara, these are my concubines, Saha, Leila and Amar. Your duties include serving them in the harem. Saha has a temper to match her red hair. Leila is like a playful kitten, but beware of her claws. And Amar can be fractious if stroked the wrong way."

"Why is Zara so filthy, my lord?" Nafisa asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot to introduce Nafisa, mistress of the harem," Jamal told Zara. "Zara is filthy because she has been serving as a stable slave," he explained.

"A stable slave!" Saha gasped.

"Zara must have displeased you greatly, my lord," Amar said with a smirk.

A hint of compassion crossed old Nafisa's wrinkled face. "Come along, Zara, I'll soon rid you of the stench of dung and horses."

Zara followed, as eager to escape Jamal's sniping concubines as she was to have a bath. As she passed through an arched doorway, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Jamal stretched out on a couch, his women crowded around him like a litter of puppies, eager to please and be pleased. Her face flamed, recalling all those arousing things Jamal had done to her that night beside the pool, wondering if he meant to bed his women while she was in the next room.

The hammam was hot and steamy, and Zara couldn't wait to immerse herself in the sparkling water. The pool dominated the large room, whose floors were inlaid with white and blue tiles. Benches lined the walls around the pool.

"Allow me to remove those filthy robes, Zara," Nafisa said kindly. "Why are you dressed like a man?

"This is how I always dress," Zara explained. "Normally I wear the blue robes of my people."

"Blue robes? Allah help us. Are you one of the Blue Men? How can that be when you are a woman?"

"My father is Youssef, cadi of the Berbers who live in the Rif mountains. I ride at his side."

Nafisa stared at her. "You ride with bandits?"

"We do not think of ourselves as bandits. We are free people, fighting for equality. We raid the sultan's caravans because we are driven to it by high taxes."

"I know nothing of politics." Nafisa shrugged as she pulled off Zara's shirt and helped her out of her pantaloons. The old woman wasn't prepared for the sight that met her eyes, and a shocked gasp left her throat. "Blessed Allah, you are lovely. That hair, that skin, you are like a rare butterfly emerging from its cocoon. If the sheik saw you like this he'dтАФ"

"The sheik has already seen her like this," Jamal said from the doorway, "and was as awestruck as you are, my good Nafisa."

"What are you doing here?" Zara cried, trying to hide behind the ample Nafisa.

"This is my home, I go wherever I please."

"Am I not allowed to bathe in privacy?"

"You are my slave. I am your master. I will decide what you are allowed and not allowed." He ambled into the hammam and dropped down onto one of the benches, stretching his long legs in front of him. "You may continue, Nafisa."

Zara bit her lip to keep from flinging back a sharp retort, noting that Nafisa seemed not at all disturbed by Jamal's presence. Did he regularly watch his concubines bathe? she wondered.