“Sweet dreams, Aysha. Don’t forget to say your prayers.” His tone was mocking.
As she moved away, he began another song, in Arabic this time, one he had heard at Shahin’s house. It was a bawdy ballad about a Kalif who wanted a new young wife to revive his flagging desires. He wondered whether, inside the pavilion, Aysha was listening or blocking her ears.
Two days passed. Raoul felt that he and Aysha were playing a strange game of cat and mouse. He no longer felt tormented by his desire for her although he still wanted her as much. It was as if their roles had been reversed and he was now in control. He felt as if she was the one who was desperately trying to conceal her true feelings, especially from herself. Raoul simply had to wait and eventually one of them would pounce. He was unsure, as yet, who it was going to be.
As he wore only the flimsy silk trousers and spent most of each day out in the sun, Raoul’s smooth muscular body, rubbed daily with fragrant oil, was turning a rich golden brown. Aysha’s eyes were on him constantly and she was gradually allowing him to come closer, not flinching or starting back if he sat next to her. She no longer wore a veil and had resumed her usual flimsy style of garment. She would now accept dishes of food when he gave them to her. That afternoon he even made her laugh by walking on his hands all the way across the garden towards her.
“You should try it yourself,” he said, still upside down with his feet waving in the air.
“How could I? I’m a woman!”
“What’s that got to do with it? I’ve seen dancing-girls perform all sorts of strange contortions. You should learn to take pleasure in your body. I do.”
He righted himself and sat down beside her under the tree. Her colour had risen, he noticed, and she was looking away from him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She glanced back and then got to her feet. “I might go and bathe,” she murmured.
“You’ve bathed already, Aysha.”
“I know. But it’s so hot...I...”
“Well, suit yourself. I think I’ll have a little sleep here in the shade.” He lay back, putting his hands under his head, and closed his eyes.
“Raoul.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think...?”
“What?”
“Nothing! Forget it!”
He opened his eyes. She was frowning, on the verge of tears, he sensed.
“Aysha, love, what’s troubling you?”
He scrambled to his feet and put a hand on her shoulder. It was the first time he had deliberately touched her since he had stopped being Forida. She was trembling. He put his other hand on her other shoulder and turned her to face him. Her breathing quickened and she slowly raised her eyes to meet his. As he expected, they were full of tears.
“Don’t weep, sweetheart. It’s all right.”
As he spoke, the tears spilled over, rolling down her cheeks. He put one hand to her face, gently wiping the wetness away with his thumb.
“Don’t, don’t!” she whispered. “You mustn’t touch me.”
“Very well.”
Even though he sensed it wasn’t what she really wanted, he released her and stepped back.
“Oh!” she cried. For a second he thought she was going to hit him as her face contorted in fury and she clenched her fists. “I hate you!” she snapped at him, then she turned and stumbled blindly away.
He was tempted to follow her but he forced himself not to. It wasn’t the right time, not yet. He was sure now that she was attracted to him, however much she might fight against it. He must be patient. Sure that she would be watching, he lay down again on the grass, put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
She reappeared shortly after sunset, carrying the tray over to him and setting it down. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her quizzically.
“Well?” he said.
“There’s chicken in that sauce that you like,” she said. “And plenty of rice and bread. Would you like to eat now?”
“Serve yourself first, Aysha,” said Raoul, sitting up and giving her his brightest smile.
She took some into a dish and started to move away.
“Don’t go,” he said. “Sit here by me.”
She said nothing but sat down nearby. Raoul helped himself from the dishes and began to eat. Aysha, he noticed, merely toyed with her food, barely tasting it.
“Tell me about your life, Raoul,” she said once he had stopped eating.
She replaced the dishes, concealing her almost full one under his, before resuming her seat.
“I’ll tell you some of it, if you want me to.”
“Please.”
Heavily censoring his account, Raoul told her a little about his grandmother’s castle, his escape to the mummers and their life on the road. He omitted all mention of amorous encounters and everything about Armand, merely implying that, as a mummer, he had heard Bernard of Clairvaux calling for soldiers and that, at that point, he had changed his life and travelled east. He suddenly remembered telling Damona about his grandmother’s life when she was recovering from her illness. He sincerely hoped Aysha wasn’t brewing some sort of fever.
That night, when he heard her crying, the thought returned to him. He pulled on his drawers and left his closet. In the dark room beyond, he lit some lamps then sat down beside her on the great bed. She was lying face down, sobbing convulsively. Under the sheet he realised that she was naked.
“Hush, love, hush,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Do you have a pain somewhere?”
“Yes!”
“Where does it hurt?”
She turned towards him, the sheet wrapped tightly round her.
“Here,” she pressed a hand on her chest, “and here!” She struck her forehead. “Oh, Raoul!”
He gathered her into his arms and she clung to him.
“Raoul, I’m so wicked,” she said after he had held her closely for a few moments.
“Wicked? Of course you’re not. Don’t be foolish.”
“I am, I am. Do you know what I’ve been wishing?”
“No.”
“That you were my husband – or that Khaliq looked like you! Oh, Raoul, I hate him; he disgusts me. But you...you don’t seem quite as bad, somehow. And you’re a stranger. So I’m wicked, wicked, wicked.”
“Of course you’re not. Plenty of ladies think other men look nicer than their husbands – Eleanor of France for one. It’s not important.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. Now, you dry those tears or they’ll spoil your pretty eyes.”
“Do you think my eyes are pretty?”
She was sitting up in the bed, clutching the sheet up to cover her breasts and looking at him mournfully. There didn’t actually seem to be any tears. The noisy sobbing which had attracted his attention might have been a ploy.
“Very pretty,” Raoul said with a smile. “Now make yourself comfortable against your pillows.”
He plumped them up and piled them behind her. She lay back obediently.
“Raoul.”
“Yes?”
“Would you...would you... stay with me for a little while?”
“Do you want me to?”
She nodded without speaking. He sat down facing her. She glanced at him and looked away, biting her lip.
“What is it?”
“I had...I had a terrible thought today,” she whispered.
“Did you? Worse than thinking I looked nicer than your husband.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Of course I’m not.” He reached out and took her hand, then began to stroke it gently. “Go on, what was your terrible thought?”
“Raoul, are you married?”
“No.”
“But have you ever lain with a woman and given her a child?”
Raoul struggled to stop himself from laughing.
“Yes,” he said. “I believe I have once or twice.”
“So you know what to do.”
“Oh, yes.”
“You are laughing at me! I know you are.” She snatched her hand away.
“Aysha, sweetheart, I promise you I’m not. No-one’s ever asked me questions quite like this, that’s all.”
“Oh. Well.” She paused for a moment, evidently searching for the right words then, when she spoke again, she blurted it all out in a rush. “Do you think you could give me a child and then Khaliq wouldn’t have to bother? I could lie with you instead and...” She hesitated again then floundered on. “...I... I might not... mind that quite so much. Would it be possible?”
“Aysha, my sweet lovely girl, nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
“Will it hurt me very much?”
She looked at him fully for the first time, her eyes wide with anxiety and fear.
“Don’t be frightened, sweetheart.” He moved across the bed and put his arms round her. Then, very gently, he touched her lips with his. “I’ll be very, very careful and then, Aysha, I promise you, it won’t hurt you at all.”
“All right. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, my love. Just leave it all to me.”
When Raoul awoke the next morning, Aysha was still asleep beside him. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her eyes opened and she gave a little smile.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think so. Though I feel strange.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He kissed her again, tucked the sheet round her and sat up.
“Raoul...”
“Yes, love?” She was frowning slightly, clearly anxious or worried about something. “What is it?”
“Have you definitely given me a baby now?”
“It’s much too early to tell.” He grinned. “I certainly did my best.”
What was she thinking? It was impossible to know.
“When would I know for certain?”
“In a few weeks. If your bleeding doesn’t happen when it should.”
“Oh, I see.” She looked at him with a shy smile and tentatively put her hand on his bare arm. “Do...do you think perhaps...tonight...if you didn’t mind very much...perhaps you could do it again – just in case this time it didn’t work?”
Raoul gave a shout of laughter. Aysha withdrew her hand angrily and turned away from him.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said, still chuckling. “But really you are the sweetest innocent I’ve ever met! My dear girl, I would love to do it again and there’s no need at all to wait until tonight.”
He put his hand on her shoulder but she shrugged away from him, burying her face in the pillow.
“Aysha, sweetheart, don’t be offended.”
He lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck, letting his lips travel onto her shoulders and slowly down her back. Beneath the cover, as he started to move his hands over her, a shiver ran through her body, and she turned to face him.
“Oh, Raoul,” she breathed. “You make me feel so...Is it all right? Can we really do it now?”
“Neither of us has anything urgent to attend to that I’m aware of. We can do it whenever we like and as often as we like.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.”
This time there was no need for Raoul to exercise the incredible restraint he had forced on himself the previous night. She was eager, almost impatient for him.
“There’s no hurry, sweetheart,” he told her. “Take your time and enjoy it.”
Later they lay in each other’s arms, Aysha’s head pillowed on Raoul’s chest.
“I may have misled you just a little bit about all this, you know,” he said after a while.
“What do you mean?” she asked sleepily.
“People don’t only do this in order to have a child.”
“What other reason could there be?”
“Well, as I think you may now have realised, Aysha, my love, it feels extremely pleasant.”
She lay quietly for a moment, thinking over what he had said.
“So Khaliq wasn’t trying to give me a child,” she said at last.
“I’m sure he was. But he also wanted to feel pleasure. How many women are there in his seraglio?”
“I’m not sure – quite a lot.”
“Well, he doesn’t have all those women so that they can bear him hundreds of children – although, of course, he will hope that some of them do – especially his wives. The women are there to provide him with variety, to please him in different ways. He probably has favourites whom he lies with frequently and others whom he only enjoys occasionally – like a sweetmeat which is good now and again but you wouldn’t want it every day.”
They lay in silence again for a few minutes. Had he said too much? Raoul wondered what Aysha was thinking.
“Poor Raoul,” she said suddenly.
“Why so?”
“You’ve no variety. You only have me to lie with.”
“I don’t think I object to that very much.”
He rolled over so that she was beneath him then he kissed her, his lips parting hers and his tongue exploring her mouth.
“Lucky Aysha,” he said when he raised his head again.
“Why so?” Her dark eyes smiled up at him languorously.
“You don’t have to wait your turn. I’ll make love to you every day.”
“Make love?”
“That’s what we did a little while ago. It’s not called planting babies; it’s called making love.”
“Is the woman supposed to enjoy it too?”
“Certainly she is.”
“Are we going to do it again now? I feel as if maybe...”
“My sweet girl, first we are going to eat something or I, for one, am likely to die of exhaustion.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to...”
“Hush.” He kissed her. “We’ll eat, and then we can help each other to bathe, and after that – or even during that,” he grinned down at her, “ we’ll make love again.”
“I see. Shall I go and get the food?”
“Good idea,” he said, but instead of letting her go, he kissed her.
“Raoul! I thought you said you needed to eat.”
“On second thoughts, sweetheart, I think your suggestion was a better one. It’ll help me to work up an appetite.”
“Oh, Raoul!”
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes.” She reached up and kissed him. “It feels wonderful!”
Chapter Twenty Seven
The next few days passed in a haze of sensual pleasure. Having overcome her initial repugnance, Aysha was eager now to make love whenever and how ever Raoul wished. Apart from eating, bathing and occasionally sleeping, they did little else – sometimes even combining several of those activities together. Aysha took delight in Raoul’s lithe muscular body and he kissed and caressed every inch of hers, teaching her to relish every new and exquisite sensation.
A week passed and then another although Raoul was unsure of exactly how many days they had spent in the garden. Thoughts of the future had started to nag at him and he wondered whether Aysha was thinking about it too. As she said nothing, he didn’t mention it but, as the days continued to slip by, he worried more and more. Could he contrive some way for them both to get away when the eunuchs came for her? He very much doubted it. Could she bear to go back to being Khaliq’s wife? Would it be easier or harder for her because of her time with him? He knew his only real chance of survival was to leave her to manage as best she could, seizing any possible chance for his own escape.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she said one morning as he lay beside her, the thoughts chasing each other round his head. “Are you growing tired of me?”
“Of course not, sweetheart. I love you. You know that.”
“But you don’t always want to be with me now. I had to wait for so long last night before you cam
e to bed. I thought perhaps you didn’t want me anymore.”
“Did I behave as if I didn’t want you?”
“No.” She gave a reluctant smile.
“Shall I show you again now?”
“Only if you promise that you really truly love me and no one else.”
“I promise. Happy now?”
“Yes. But Raoul...”
“What?” He had pulled her on top of him but now he paused and took her face between his hands.
“What were you thinking about?”
“I’ll tell you later, my love, not now. Right now I’ve got better things on my mind!”
Worried about how she would react and what she would say, when, later, she asked him again, Raoul fobbed her off, revealing none of his real concerns.
By now, inevitably, he didn’t want to spend all day every day making love. He knew he would need all his agility, both of mind and body, if he was ever to get out of the palace so he had started to practise his tumbling tricks again. Far from amusing Aysha, this seemed to annoy her. She angrily refused when he suggested she should try doing a simple turn, storming off into the pavilion in a fit of pique which lasted for the rest of the day.
She also became angry and suspicious when he questioned her about the lay-out of the palace. He knew there was no point in asking her about Damascus as she was unlikely ever to have been allowed to see it. He wanted to know where their garden was in relation to the seraglio, where Khaliq’s quarters were and where the main gates out into the city were located. She either couldn’t or wouldn’t help him.
“You’re bored with being here!” she said accusingly. “You want to leave me!”
“That’s not true, Aysha. Anyway, just at present, even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. I’m just as much a prisoner here as you are.”
“Oh!” She stamped her foot. “You DO want to go!”
“Aysha, Aysha, I don’t. I was just pointing out...Look, do you ever think about what’s going to happen at the end of the forty days?”
She turned away from him, her shoulders hunched angrily. He put out a hand and swung her round.
“Don’t you touch me!” she snapped. “You don’t care about me at all.”
She refused to look at him. He put his hand under her chin and forced her head up.
The Rightful Heir Page 43