The Sheik and the Slave

by Italia, Nicola

  ***

  Katharine’s simple dove-grey muslin dress flowed around her as she sat with her son and Abigail on a blanket under a large oak tree. Abigail was reading Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World In Four Parts by Lemuel Gulliver from her father’s library. The women were taking turns reading chapters as her son happily played with a toy that Edward had made for him.

  “It’s a delightful book,” Abigail said as she took her turn to read.

  When Abigail began to read, Katharine closed her eyes and found her mind wandering. She watched the breeze in the trees and had a sudden ache for the heat of the desert.

  When Abigail finished her chapter, she closed the book and looked at the small child yawning.

  “Dear, I’m going to take him to lie down and I think I might nap myself,” Abigail said. She smiled and placed the precious babe in the carriage, wheeling him down the green.

  Katharine lay upon the blanket, staring up into the trees and feeling the breeze upon her face. It was a lovely day, with cottony white clouds in the pale blue sky.

  Abigail came back a short while later looking strained and holding a letter in her hand. She sat down next to the young woman who was still staring at the sky.

  “Dearest, I have received a letter from the Abbey,” she began. “There is a letter that was addressed to me but that I think you should read it. I’m going to leave it here. And if you need me, I will be nearby.”

  Katharine looked at the small piece of paper folded in half and saw the cursive writing inside it.

  Was it from Mohammed? Was he nearby? Her heart leapt at the thought. She would be with him soon. Her love!

  She greedily opened the paper with joy. As she read the words, the color drained from her face and she felt her heart ache. “No!” She whispered. No!

  The letter was brief and read:

  Dear Madame –

  We received your letter regarding the Lady Katharine and are pleased to hear that she is well. However Princess Safiya has recently announced her pregnancy and the Sheik is making arrangements for the birth of his legitimate first born son to his wife. A son –Inshallah.

  The wedding is being planned and is a great event as it joins two great families. The bloodlines will be ensured once the child is born to the Sheik.

  Peace and blessings be upon you.

  Your servant,

  Katharine closed her eyes and steeled herself against the pain. She felt almost a physical blow to her stomach that made her sick as she scanned the short note and took in the words. Mohammed had made love to another woman. He had held another woman in his arms and caressed her as he had done with her. Had he looked deep into this Safiya’s eyes as he possessed her? A wedding was to take place? She felt a sickness deep inside her.

  She moved away from the blanket, stumbling as she went. Her head swam and she clutched at her stomach. Thoughts were swirling in her head. He was marrying an Arab woman befitting his station. Her mother was right! She had given him everything, and now he was marrying another woman.

  Yasmeen’s voice taunted her: He’ll sell your body to the highest bidder once he’s tired of your cunt and taste. But no, it was much worse than that. She had simply been discarded like trash. Did he give no thought at all to his son? Her son. Oh God, why? It was like a physical pain. The tears fell on her cheeks and she moved away from the manor house. Why? Why? It hurt so much she couldn’t bear it. Why? She was blinded by the tears and collided with a figure who stood in her way.

  “Katharine? What is it?” Thomas asked, worried.

  He saw her in great distress as she approached and she seemed to have not seen him. He had been walking to clear his head on his last day at the manor house and saw her.

  She had tears on her cheeks and she clutched a letter in one hand.

  “Oh, Thomas,” she sobbed. She allowed him to take her in his arms as she cried. “I can’t bear it. It hurts so much.” She closed her eyes against the pain.

  He shushed her gently and touched her blonde hair, which was loose down her back.

  His hand moved to soothe her back and she calmed herself. She suddenly felt her knees go weak and his arms were around her. She felt dizzy and confused.

  “Katherine,” he said, knowing she was in great pain. He sank into the grass, holding her.

  “Thomas I can’t bear it. It hurts so much,” she said. The betrayal and the feeling of being used as trash and Mohammed moving inside another woman made her sick.

  He held her tightly and tried to comfort her. She sat beside him as he touched her hair and soothed her. Suddenly, Katharine realized her posture and her close proximity and was ashamed.

  “I’m sorry, Thomas. How awkward for you,” she said. She looked into his eyes, her blue ones filled with unshed tears and pain.

  “Dearest Kat, can I help you?” He fell into using her old nickname.

  “I have gone from complete to bliss to utter darkness in one moment,” she said, her wet blue eyes searching his. “I see nothing ahead.” She unfolded the letter and gave it to him, which he read.

  “Katharine, I’m very sorry. This letter is deeply upsetting,” he replied. They sat on the grass together before she moved to stand and he followed.

  Katharine walked with him toward the house before she murmured, “You have been so kind, but I, I need to be alone,” she told him. She gazed down at the letter and he nodded.

  “Of course.”

  She looked lost and confused as she made her way back to the house. Thomas watched her go and felt his heart tug.

  Katharine returned to her room and reread the letter several times, which only caused her fresh pain. The tiny wounds reopened in her heart. She felt so many things that it was hard to focus on one pain; it was all formed into one oozing wound. She knew there was nothing now. There would be no marriage, no home, and her dearest child would have no father. He had married another. Yasmeen’s and her mother’s words had come true. She was cast aside after he had taken what he wanted.

  She felt tired and wanted to sleep. Katharine spent the next day in bed and, though Abigail tried to coax her out into the warm sunlight, she politely refused and stayed in her room. Her father also tried his best to bring her out of the darkness, but with no luck.

  Thomas had asked his host if he could stay on and he tried to bring her out as well. He brought her flowers and left her little nonsensical poems he made up to make her smile.

  She spent several days in bed, sleeping and eating very little, and every new breath was painful. But she had a son whom she adored, and for him, she tried to mix with company.

  She spent day after day in Abigail’s company and came to love the woman most dearly. She was a calm, steady influence and Katharine knew she was protective of her son and herself. She read the Bible to her under the great oak tree and they read books aloud to each other. She was the mother Kat had never had.

  Her own mother all but ignored her, and once Mohammed’s letter became knowledge through gossip, Anne smirked but said little. To have a daughter who was used goods with a living reminder of it was not a light subject; she was mortified that now even the marriage that was supposed to have occurred would not. She watched Edward grow more silent and knew that he ached for his daughter’s unhappiness. Never mind that had everyone listed to her and married Katharine off, this would not have happened.

  As the days passed, Thomas also stayed on at Willow Manor and was welcomed. He was cheery and everyone enjoyed his company, especially Francie, who also came to see her friend.

  “He’s certainly a handsome man,” Francie said one day as she and Katharine embroidered in the downstairs sitting room.

  “Who, Francie?” Katharine quizzed.

  “Don’t be difficult, Kat. You must know I mean Thomas.”

  “I’m not being difficult, and he is a fine man. I just haven’t looked at him that way,” she said as she pulled the thread through the cloth.

  Francie sighed as she stared at her beautiful fri
end.

  “I have been so worried about you. Your father was kind enough to invite me here to stay. I think he wanted me to help you through this,” she said to Kat.

  “Yes, dear Father. He has been very good to me. I sometimes think I don’t deserve it,” Kat added.

  “Why ever not?” Francie asked. She looked at the blonde, with her cutting cheekbones and rosebud lips, and thought that, if anyone, she should have everything she desired.

  “Because. Because I am a fallen woman who gave my virtue stupidly away to a man I loved. And then I was discarded like trash. I am embarrassment to my family,” she said. Kat didn’t meet Francie’s eyes.

  “Katharine! That’s monstrous! Never say that again!” Francie exclaimed. She moved quickly to sit by her friend. “Your father loves you! And no matter that your mother may be harsh and uncompromising, you deserve happiness. You thought he loved you.”

  “Yes, I thought he loved me. I thought we would marry, and our lives would be together and happy,” she said, as she looked down at her hands. “I’m a foolish woman,” she added.

  “No, Kat. Not foolish, just blinded by love. But you shall rally. And you and I will find our happiness,” Francie said encouragingly. She took her friend’s hands in hers. “We will.”

  ***

  Katharine continued to spend long stretches of time alone during the day, at twilight, and in the early morning. She especially loved twilight before evening as the sun set in the west and the sky turned different shades of pink and red. She was often alone, but several times Thomas joined her. They walked together and Thomas would talk while she listened. She had little to say these days.

  Thomas had not wanted to leave the manor house when he saw Katharine in such raw pain and he felt he might be of some use. He also read her books of poetry and enjoyed being in her company. It was one such twilight evening that they strolled along the gardens and Katharine listened as he relayed a letter from his father.

  “I think I will return to London soon,” he said in an offhand manner

  “Really? I am sorry to hear that,” she told him.

  “You would miss me, Lady Katharine?”

  “We would all miss you, Thomas,” she returned.

  “Would you miss me, Katharine?” Thomas asked. She turned to stare at him and their eyes met.

  “Yes. I would miss you. I enjoy your company,” she said.

  “You like that I read to you and play the escort for you?”

  She smiled.

  “I do.”

  “I don’t mind performing a part, if it pleases you,” he replied.

  “Not performing, surely. You are simply being a gentleman.”

  “I am. And I am dedicated to your service,” he said. He spoke sincerely.

  “You are gallant,” she replied.

  A small tendril of golden hair had moved over her face. He moved closer to her, plucked the tendril from her, and placed it behind her ear.

  “Thomas,” she whispered.

  “Katharine.”

  His fingers lightly touched her cheek and he moved to kiss her forehead in a sweet gesture. She didn’t move away from him, and when she didn’t, he moved slowly to touch his lips with hers. His fingers moved along her neck until she broke the kiss.

  “Please don’t be angry,” he said to her.

  “I’m not angry,” she said as she moved ahead of him.

  “Katharine?”

  “No, truly, Thomas. I’m not angry,” she said. But before he turned away, he saw the tears in her eyes.

  Katharine had not been expecting Thomas to kiss her, but she had been willing to allow it. But as his lips touched hers and his fingers caressed her, she had remembered a far different place in Arabia, when she had been in the garden and the sheik had come upon her.

  When she pulled away from Thomas, she would have sold her soul to have Mohammed staring at her with those dark, intense eyes that could weaken her so easily. Then, she realized that she must learn to live without him. She felt the tears start again as she walked back to the house.

  Thomas knew it had been too soon to kiss her, but he had become infatuated with Katharine; the more time he spent with her, the more he fell under her spell. Perhaps it was for the best that he return to London.

  Chapter 25

  The next day, Lord Edward approached Thomas and told him that he was also returning to London and that, if she had no objections, he would like Katharine to accompany them.

  He had seen how venomous Anne was to his youngest daughter and he wanted her to have some time away from the manor house.

  He had already spoken to Abigail, who would be invited along with the child. She had agreed. Katharine was very taken with the older woman and he knew she, in turn, doted upon his daughter and grandson.

  He had no control over Anne and her attitude and neglect of her grandson; he thought her treatment of her daughter was reprehensible. As mistress of the house, she had cause to set an example, but instead she was vicious and cruel. He worried the servants might become neglectful of Katharine as well.

  Time spent in London would help. Katharine needed diversions and he had watched Thomas be attentive and kind to her. He saw a growing attachment on the man’s part, but knew his daughter was still healing. Thomas was the sort of man to take her mind off things.

  Together, the four adults and child traveled back from the country to London. The townhouse was a welcome change, and Katharine began to relax and enjoy herself. She was invited to parties and balls, and Thomas offered to escort her, which she accepted.

  She chose a deep lavender silk dress, with pearls at her throat and ears, for their first evening out. Her father accompanied them, and when they arrived there was a crush of people. She noticed some openly staring at her, mostly women who were sizing her up. She felt the men’s eyes on her as well and probably for a completely different reason. They assumed she was a loose woman and would easily tumble into bed with them. Let them try, she mused. They would soon learn the truth. She was done being a pawn. She would play the game the way she wanted to.

  The musicians were already playing and the tables she saw were burdened with mutton, poultry, cold sweets, fruit, and decadent pastries arranged in an attractive manner. Thomas was speaking with her brother Charles and she saw her father move to speak with their host.

  Thomas took her arm and together they walked along the ballroom. He was dressed that evening as an earl’s son in a silk mint green and cream frock coat with matching breeches. The color complimented his hair and eyes.

  “You are breathtaking, Katharine,” he told her secretively in her ear and she laughed.

  “Thomas! Shame on you! People will think things if you lean in as if to kiss me,” she said boldly, flirting with him.

  “Really? Will they?” he flirted back.

  She nodded once.

  He moved closer, his lips touching her ear this time.

  “I want them to think that,” he said.

  He was bold, but Katharine enjoyed his sudden boldness. A Minuet began and Thomas touched her arm.

  “Lady?” he asked, motioning toward the dance floor.

  She smiled and they joined the other couples in the middle of the floor as the music for the Minuet began. She held hands with Thomas as they moved across the floor. She glided across the floor and felt so many eyes upon her. She weaved in through the couples, touching other people’s hands as they danced, and then she curtseyed to Thomas across the room from him. He carried himself well, and when the music finally ended, she realized how much she had enjoyed herself.

  When she and her father returned home almost at daybreak, she felt giddy and excited. The light outside was grey and the fog encircled the house. She stepped out of the coach as her father preceded her into the house.

  Katharine turned to smile at the new day and the lightness she felt. In the fog and dim grey light, she saw a man standing across the street. He wore a royal blue frock coat with brown breeches and stood silho
uetted against the oil lamps in the street.

  His frame was masculine and he wore a wide-brimmed hat that hid his face. Katharine clutched her small bag and looked for her father, who had gone inside. She wasn’t frightened, as she could easily call for help should she need it. But there was something familiar in the way he stood, almost arrogantly. She shook her head and moved her dress to help her walk inside. As she took the steps to the front door, she glanced over her shoulder.

  He was still there, and he seemed to be staring at her in a blatant fashion. She wanted to confront him, but knew the whole thing was foolish. He was not there for her. She had just arrived. He was meeting someone, perhaps. Though she wondered why he would be standing there, waiting at such an early time. But then, she was there as well.

  She turned this time, entered the townhouse, and closed the door behind her.

  When she made her way up to her bed chamber, she eased herself toward the large windows and looked out into the street. There was no one there. She was imagining things. She shed her clothes and settled into bed, smiling as she did.

  Everything was looking bright again.

  ***

  The entire trip from Arabia to England had been a nightmare. The ship had become a breeding ground for disease, and scurvy had developed among the sailors. Dysentery and pneumonia set in, and several of the men died. Their bodies were dumped overboard at sea. The water had been rationed, and the stench from unwashed bodies and the sickness had been overwhelming at times. Though he had tried to remain alone on the ship to stave off sickness, it had not possible.

  Halfway during the voyage, Abdullah became ill with pneumonia. He began to run a fever and had a hard time breathing. By the time they landed on the coast of England, he was very ill.

  The ship’s captain took pity on the foreigner and brought him to a local inn and left him there. He was kind enough to pay several weeks lodging for the man and ask that he be looked after.

  As Abdullah’s mind raced with crazed imaginings in his fevered brain, the one thought he held onto was that he had to recover so he could choke the life out of the white witch.