by Mallory Rush
"Yes?" Rachel looked at her hopefully while she clenched the sheets in her grip, wrapping the top one about her and wishing for the tee-shirt back home.
"He said you should eat well to keep your strength since he had exhausted your favors."
Rachel understood the double message. He'd kept up the front while secretly extending his regrets to her.
"Um... Jayna. How was the Master when you saw him this morning?"
"Not well." Jayna flashed her a discreet smile. "He looked to be a man with favors more exhausted than yours."
So, Rand had had a bad night too. She wasn't surprised, but there was a comfort in knowing he'd shared her misery.
"Did he say when he would visit me again?"
"You are eager?" She motioned Rachel from the bed and began to strip the bottom sheet. As Jayna studied the blood stain she shook her head. "That is surprising. He must be kinder than most masters, but I would not guess it from this."
Rachel ducked her head, embarrassed by the implication and privy to the deceit. He is kind, she wanted to say, in his hidden places, he is kind. Places, she thought with a private smile, that he had let her in to.
As Jayna took her leave, the sheet tucked neatly in her arms, Rachel came to a decision: Enough of this sleeping in separate beds while she cried into her pillow. Rand meant well, but her woman's instincts insisted last night's protectiveness had only kept them apart.
"Jayna," she called. "About what you said yesterday, you know, even slaves being able to influence a man? Well, I thought about that and it reminded me of something. Have you ever heard you can catch more bees with honey than vinegar?"
Her brows drew together. "It is not familiar. But there is an old truth each concubine knows in the harem. If the Master is good and she desires he lay with her and not another, she lures him with the scent of jasmine oiling her body, and promises him the greatest pleasure with the slant of her eyes, the tight binding of her sari."
"Seems to me that those gals in the harem know a lot about bees and honey. Think you could come in here and oil me up before dinner, maybe help me out with some make-up and get that sari bound real tight?"
"With pleasure, mistress. It is what the Master requested as well." She paused and Rachel was caught off guard by Jayna's wink. "No cards today, mistress. He has ordered for you to be made ready to shop after you bathe."
Rachel smiled as Jayna bowed out, feeling much different about his dictates than she had some twenty-four hours ago.
He'd sent her breakfast. He'd even taken the time to order up her bath. He was taking her shopping!
Rachel laughed at herself. Even here she could still get excited about going shopping. Maybe after they were back in the States she and Sarah could become friends and go shopping together. They could exchange Christmas and birthday presents, watch as Rand opened up a box with a tacky tie inside...
She stopped in mid-image. Her thoughts had implied permanency. And then she knew. She had lied last night, lied to them both. Because she did want promises. She wanted forever. As in a wedding ring and children that would never be subjected to what he'd gone through.
Be patient with me, he'd said. Be strong when I stumble. He'd also said he hoped he didn't crush her when he fell, or snuff out her light before he could hit the finish line.
Her excitement dampened, she felt the threat of a loss she couldn't bear. Courage. Her jaw clenched, as did her fist, and she scrambled under the bed for the doll he'd given her.
Rachel hugged it to her, along with an unwanted truth: No one could force another person to love them or commit to them, especially not a man who admitted to compulsive running.
If you love something let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was.
The old cliché had never held so much meaning as it did now. But she'd been learning a lot from Rand and her newest lesson was finding the courage to take personal risks.
A month ago, even a day ago, she would have held out for the promises she wanted. She wanted them badly enough to give him her all and pray he could come to love her as much.
Sitting the doll in a chair opposite the table Jayna had left, Rachel tried to take her mind off her borrowed worries by playing her favorite childhood game.
"Would you care for tea?" she asked the doll. "No? Then perhaps you'll join me for..." She raised the stainless steel globe off a steaming plate of some interesting looking items. "Well, I'm not sure what we're eating but it smells good. And just look, Jayna left an orchid floating in a brandy snifter. How did she know we have a weakness for flowers and—"
Her conversation with the doll was cut short when she spied an envelope peeking beneath the glass. Quickly tearing the seal open, she scanned the bold script on the parchment.
"Listen to this," she said confidentially.
"Dear Rachel," she read. "Old garbage has a way of piling up when ignored and I haven't aired out the house for a very long time. You told me that I'd feel better for it, and you were right. Long way to go, but thanks to you I'm getting there."
Rachel paused, a warm smile brimming from her lips.
"You know," she confided to the doll she'd named Sarah sometime in the long, lonely night, "It's not so scary to let someone go when the scales are tipped in your favor."
Clearing her throat, she continued reading:
"It's very late and I'm not exactly sober. I can't sleep because you're keeping me awake. Maybe if I just keep writing I can keep from acting on what I want to do to you now. I can see you in bed. I'm imagining you in it without any clothes..."
Rachel stopped reading, her eyes wide, her breathing shallow. "I'm not sure if you should be listening to this," she said to Sarah while she fanned herself with the hot sheet of paper. "Cover your ears."
Scanning the lines, she went on.
"I'm very affected by this little imagining. It arouses me. In fact, I'm damn close to throwing down this pen, barging into our bedroom, and taking back what I gave. But as long as I can put one word in front of another I can keep myself from acting too soon.
"I'm pretending that I'm with you now, that I've pulled away the sheets and you're sleeping on your back. I like you this way, uncovered, unconsciously responding to my hands that are taking what they want without asking. I can feel your bare skin hot against my palms; your breasts are wet where my tongue is teasing them.
"I know it's wrong to take advantage of you this way, but that doesn't stop me from doing it. But you don't want me to stop, do you? I can hear the sounds you're making as you slowly come awake, realizing I'm kissing my way down, until my mouth fits between your legs. How good you taste, Rachel. And I do love the feel of your hands gripping my head to you.
"Are you hot? Do you want me inside, angel? God knows I want to be there. But I'm not, and I think know why. It's the reason I left you when more than anything I wanted to stay. For once in my life, I don't want to take but to give.
"What I'm sharing with you on this page has very little to do with sex and a lot to do with something I'm not too familiar with. It's called lovemaking. A mutual possession.
"You haven't asked me for promises, and I'm grateful for that because promises are something I have a problem with. But I will make you one now: I'll never make a promise to you that I won't keep.
"Our days are numbered before the plot thickens—let's make them count. Sleeping without you, well, it does suck. I hope that soon we'll wake up together sharing rave reviews."
"Good Lord," Rachel moaned. Rand had said she was thawing him out, but he was doing a doozy of a job at turning the thermostat up to scalding. Was she hot? As far as she could tell hell couldn't compete with the fever she was in.
Rachel glanced at the doll. Then she reread the letter. Two gifts from the same man. The man who'd signed off with, "Love." She studied his signature, realizing he'd written Rand over something he'd whited out.
Rachel began to scratch. She almost tore a hole through the parchment but managed to unco
ver a thin, blurred word. Holding it up to the light, she smiled slowly. She pressed her lips to the name then held it to her breast.
"Love, Joshua," she whispered.
She ate breakfast in a dream state, sharing her hopes and dreams with her Sarah doll, while keeping her libidinous thoughts to herself. A walk on the dark side, indeed, she thought. Rand had crooked his finger, or pen, and summoned an anxious companion. Her. At least she thought it was still her. She was changing. But so was he.
When Jayna tapped on the door and announced the bath was drawn, Rachel floated toward the scent of jasmine emollient. She realized, belatedly, that she should hide Rand's—or rather, Joshua's—note.
With a womanly sigh of delight, Rachel reached for a book and tucked the letter inside.
"Just thought I'd read what the Master sent yesterday," she said to Jayna, who nodded her approval.
Climbing into the tub, Rachel set about gaining some knowledge from the Kama Sutra.
* * *
Jayna adjusted the veil covering Rachel's face, leaving just enough room to peek out with her kohl-lined eyes.
"How do women around here stand to wear so many clothes?" Rachel tugged at the full length crimson silk robe, checking out the gold brocade fastenings that ran from her neck to her sandal-clad feet. "This get-up is ridiculous. I'll bet Zebedique holds the world record for heat rashes in women."
"You will grow used to it." Jayna shook her head with a weary sigh. "I have."
"And I thought panty hose were a drag," Rachel muttered.
"It could be worse." Jayna fussed with the head covering then nodded her satisfaction. "You please the Master and he is treating you well. Many concubines are not so lucky."
"No concubine is lucky, Jayna. Everyone deserves the right to freedom."
"This is true." Jayna covered her mouth as though she'd spoken treason. "But we must keep these things to ourselves."
Rachel reached for her elderly hand and patted it, carefully choosing her words. "Maybe someday, Jayna, you and I can play that game of poker and I can tell you what you're missing out on. What would be even better would be if we could play it where we're both free to call our own hands."
Jayna shook her head. "I too was a concubine, many ages ago. My master was not kind and I tried to escape. Do you wish to see what he did to me?" She lifted her robe and exposed two burn marks on the inside of her thighs. "These are signs of shame. But that is not all. A man may be made a eunuch, but a woman may be cut too." Her mouth trembled then grew hard. "I have no woman parts. And I am sewn up."
"Oh God, no." Rachel choked, nearly gagging on the sickness in her throat. Her vision blurred and she grabbed Jayna to her. "I hurt for you." She could hardly get the words out her horror and compassion were so complete.
Jayna patted her back, oddly the one offering consolation.
"You must not cry for me. My next life will be better. And yours can be good now." She held Rachel away then, gripping her by the shoulders. "I tell you this so you will be warned. But if you should ever be foolish as I was, I will turn my back when I should be guarding." She gave her a small shake. "Tell no one of this talk."
The desire to tell her all was great, but Rachel knew better. Too much was at risk, and Jayna had suffered enough without being drug into this too.
The bedroom door opened without a knock of forewarning. Jayna quickly stepped away as Rand entered, looking as powerful and demanding as his role dictated he appear.
"Leave us, Jayna. I wish a few words with my bed slave."
Jayna bowed out, catching Rachel's eye then touching a finger to her lips in warning.
As soon as the door shut, Rand's stern mouth gentled into a smile. If she hadn't been so upset she would have been struck by his almost boyish charm.
"Hi, angel." He quirked a brow. "How did you sleep last night? No better than me, I hope."
Rachel shook her head, her eyes unnaturally bright. "Rand, we have to talk."
He frowned. "What's wrong?"
For a moment she was too choked to speak. He opened his arms and she sank into them, grateful for his solidity and strength and moral substance.
"We have to get Sarah away from here."
"Of course we do." He lifted her veil and brushed a soft kiss to her lips. "We're walking to the market so I can point out her house and you can get a feel for the general territory. It's a good excuse to time the distance."
She gripped his robe in both her hands. "It's not just that. We can't fail. If we do, what could happen to her would be worse than if we'd never come at all. This country is vile. Slavery isn't even half of it."
"Explain."
She did, feeling his own grip tighten with each appalling word. His expression revealed shock, grinding anger, and something she hadn't expected. A protective intensity.
"Forget the shopping and get packed. I'm calling for my plane."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"But Sarah—"
"Sarah means the world to me, Rachel. But so do you. Having one woman I love at stake is bad enough and I'm not going for double or nothing. Now get packed while I get ahold of the men I've had watching her house. We'll just have to come up with a plan to abduct her. You're leaving."
Rachel knew a momentary dizziness, one part of her mind sifting through what he'd said about not going double or nothing with the women he loved, turning it this way then that, afraid she'd misinterpreted. Meanwhile, she grappled with the realization he was sending her away. What if he failed? What if Sarah's owner caught them? This was far riskier than their original plan. Sarah could be mutilated while Rand rotted away in this stinking country's jail.
"You can't do this, Rand."
"Watch me. It's my decision to make and it stands."
"But you already told me how she was guarded, how your men couldn't make a successful snatch. It's why you hired me. I can get to her where you can't. Don't do this, Rand. Don't do it to Sarah." She yanked the robe at his throat and brought his eyes even with hers. "Don't do it to me."
She saw concern slowly replaced by an implacable hardness, a calculating expression.
"Why? I'll still pay you in full."
She almost slapped him. Instead, she gritted her teeth and tore aside her veil, making sure he could see that she wasn't put out. She was livid.
"Oh no, you don't. You drug me in too deep to expect me to swallow that line of tripe. As far as I'm concerned you can stuff your stupid money where the sun doesn't shine. Forget the plane because I'm staying. Either we all leave together or we don't leave at all."
"Sounds like you've got it all worked out, Ms. Tinsdale."
"That's right, Mr. Master. I'm not going anywhere today but shopping with you."
They had a staring contest that was a draw until his flat gaze softened and he sighed heavily. "I'm only trying to protect you, Rachel. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to hurt you."
"The only thing that could hurt me now is if you sent me away. Let me stay and do my job. We're partners, remember? I can't go back without you because I..."
She caught herself. Were her eyes giving her away, she wondered frantically, while his own narrowed, probed, ascertained.
"Because... why, angel? I'm waiting."
What few defenses she had left were crumbling, crumbling, leaving her like so much raw wood he could torch then leave for the wind to scatter her ashes.
Rachel shut her eyes and prayed for courage.
"Because I love you. That's why."
It was out and she couldn't take it back. She had the sudden compulsion to run, strangely feeling an empathy for Rand's nonstop sprints from emotion and commitment.
She forced herself to look at him and wasn't sure what she saw staring back. He was unblinking, too still. As if he were absorbing, considering, making some decision.
She couldn't stand the taut silence, the churning inside her head and in her stomach while she wondered if this just might be the impetus to make him
run faster than he ever had in his life.
Rachel beat him to it. She spun away, ready to dart for the door.
Rand grabbed her arm and jerked her back so fast her breasts collided with the ungiving width of his chest, pushing a soft "Ooof," of air from her lungs.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, whipping the covering from her head and thrusting what seemed an uncommon number of fingers against her scalp, twisting round and about so that she had no choice but to stay put.
"I'm going shopping," she said, between a gasp and a pant.
"I don't think so." His mouth was against her neck and then it was busy drawing an earlobe slow between his teeth as he growled, "Neither of us are running this time around, Rachel. You left yourself wide open with that enlightening bit of news. We're going to explore just how far it goes, and find out if I can manage a return on the same emotional investment. Let's get started with a promise from me to you."
Trying not to hope for too much, Rachel focused on simply getting her vocal chords to work. "What kind of a promise?"
Her heart was in her throat, the throat which he nuzzled and sucked, while the brush of his fingers connected with her skin as he impatiently worked the brocade fastenings, slipping them free then tugging and snapping them loose when they didn't obey. Somehow her own hands began to make themselves useful, pushing at his robe, searching for his bare chest.
"I'm going to make love to you and take my sweet time doing it. By the time we're through we'll be too exhausted to crawl to the door. You'll be my slave and I'll be yours, both of us slaves to our mutual pleasure. It's a promise, angel, that you can take to the bank. Or, better yet, to bed."
Chapter 18
She loved him. As unlovable as he'd been at times, she had still said the words. His mind was reeling with them at the same time he feared to believe. What if she changed her mind... what if she took it back once she knew everything there was to know? To lose this from her after having it would be worse than never having it at all.
His hands worked in fevered tandem with his thoughts, her soft little moans making it hard to think clearly. She loved him. His filthy lucre carried no weight with her. She loved him. He'd exposed the beast he could be and she'd soothed him, helped him reach out to Joshua.