‘I do. You may read any that you wish. I have regular packages sent from London and Paris.’
‘Thank you. Although I don’t expect I will be here long enough to read many of them.’
Silence ensued. Ramiz drummed his fingers on the blotting pad. Celia risked a glance at him from under her lashes. He was leaning back in his chair, looking quite relaxed, as if last night had not happened. Or perhaps it was because it meant nothing to him. She wondered what the etiquette was for such occasions, but, having no experience of them whatsoever, found herself at a complete loss. She thought of some of the women of the ton who were reputed to have affaires. She’d always been surprised, for the couples betrayed no sign of affection—except poor Caro Lamb over Lord Byron, of course, but one didn’t want to take any leaves out of her book!
Perhaps the best thing to do was pretend it hadn’t happened after all. Celia sneaked another look at Ramiz, caught his eye unexpectedly and blushed furiously.
‘You will be wondering what I intend to do with you,’ Ramiz said.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Now Celia did look up, her eyes flashing outrage.
‘I’ve written to your Consul General,’ Ramiz continued blandly, ‘to let him know that you’re safe.’
‘Lord Wincester. Papa was at school with him,’ Celia said irrelevently.
Ramiz raised an eyebrow. ‘You are well connected indeed.’
‘So I’ll be going back soon?’
‘In a few days, I expect. As soon as they send someone.’
‘Oh.’ She should be relieved. ‘They’ll send me back to England.’
‘Don’t you want to go back? To see your family? I think you mentioned sisters.’
‘Yes, naturally I miss them—Cassie in particular. But—oh, it’s nothing. Just that I was expecting to be here in the East for a couple of years, that’s all. I was looking forward to seeing it, to learning something new, and now I shall have to go home to do—well, I don’t actually know what I’ll do, to be honest.’
‘What did you do before?’
‘Playing hostess for Papa took up much of my time. I looked after the London house, of course, and then there were my sisters. But Cassie, the next in age to me, is coming out next Season, under my Aunt Sophia’s chaperonage, and now that he has me off his hands Papa intends to marry again, he told me so himself.’
‘So you are worried there will be no place for you when you return?’
‘A little.’ Celia shrugged. ‘I’m being selfish, thinking of myself. I like to be busy, you see, and I’m used to taking charge, having done so since our mother died. It would be too awkward to stay at home if Papa has a new wife, I’d be forever treading on her toes without meaning to, and anyway I’ll be expected to go into mourning.’
‘But you will marry again, surely?’ The moment he said it, Ramiz realised he disliked the idea intensely.
Celia pursed her lips. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m very good at being a wife.’
‘Now you are feeling sorry for yourself,’ Ramiz said with a twisted smile. ‘You hardly had the chance to find out one way or another.’
‘True, but— Oh, never mind my worries. I am very sure they are extremely trivial compared to yours. The main thing is I shall no longer be your problem.’
‘No.’ Strange as it was, he had not thought of her simply quitting his life. Their paths would be unlikely ever to cross again.
‘And in the mean time,’ Celia said bracingly, ‘if there is anything I can do to help you, or—’ She broke off, seeing his sceptical expression. ‘You’re going to tell me that business is men’s work, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t have to now that you’ve said it for me.’
‘Papa said I had a brain worthy of a man. He often talked things over with me—not so much to get my opinion as to clear his own mind. He said it helped.’
‘You’re suggesting I confide the business of my kingdom in you?’
Celia could not help laughing at the shocked expression on Ramiz’s face. ‘The very idea of it—a mere woman giving her opinions. Too much time spent in the West, your people would say. It has infected him. We must lock him up until he is cured.’
Her eyes twinkled with merriment. Her smile was infectious. ‘I think Akil would agree with you,’ Ramiz said.
‘Who is Akil?’
‘He is what your father would call my under-secretary, I suppose, but Akil is much more than that. We have known one another since childhood. He is my other hand.’
‘And what did you say to shock him?’
Ramiz steepled his fingers under his chin, gazing thoughtfully at the woman across the desk. In the bright light of day her hair was a deep copper, burnished with darker shades of chestnut. When she laughed, it accentuated the upward slant of her lids, making it look as if her eyes were smiling. She had dared to tease him and to question him, and now she wanted to advise him, and she seemed completely unaware of all the rules she was breaking by doing so. She talked like a man, with the assurance of one accustomed to being attended to, but she had a way of listening, of making him feel she really heard what he said, that made him want to know what she thought, that took away any element of condescension or patronage.
‘Akil wants me to marry.’
‘And has he a list of worthy brides lined up?’
‘How did you know that?’
Celia shrugged. ‘Papa told me they did the same for our Prince of Wales. Not that I’m advocating Prinny’s marriage as a good example,’ she said hurriedly, thinking of the lengths to which the Regent had gone to have his wife exiled, and the string of high-profile mistresses whom he courted blatantly in her absence.
‘Your Prince George is a man who—you will forgive me for saying so—indulges in all the benefits of power while carrying none of its responsibilities,’ Ramiz said thoughtfully.
‘You are quite right. I would not dream of comparing you to such a man. In fact I think you are rather the opposite, for it seems to me that you put duty before all else. Many people envy princes and kings for having the world at their command, but I’ve never been one of them. It seems to me that it is rather the opposite.’
‘You mean A’Qadiz has me at its command?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Ruling can be a very lonely business, I imagine. I would think you’d be pleased to have a wife to share it with you.’
‘If—when—I take a wife, it will not be to reign by my side. That is not the way here.’
‘But surely…’ Celia bit her lip, realising she had been on the verge of overstepping the mark. Her previous exposure to royalty had led her to surmise that they were a selfish, conceited and not particularly intelligent race, decorative rather than useful, who relied upon others to actually get things done. Ramiz was different in every way. His authority was so ingrained that he thought nothing of it until it was challenged, but though the power he held was absolute, he wielded it for the general good, rather than for his own. Which did not mean that he took criticism, even well meant criticism, easily. ‘I beg your pardon. It is not my business. I have no right to express an opinion.’
‘What were you going to say? Go on. I promise I won’t call the siaf.’
‘Siaf?’
Ramiz grinned. ‘The executioner.’
‘Good God, I sincerely hope not. I’m very attached to my head.’
‘It’s a very clever head—for a woman.’
‘From you, Your Highness, that is a great compliment indeed. If you must know, I was thinking that, since you are a prince and can do no wrong, there is no reason for you to stick to something just because that’s how it’s always been.’
‘Tradition plays a very important part here. It is what binds many of the tribes together.’
‘I understand that, and I’m not suggesting you turn A’Qadiz into a miniature England, but there are some things you could do which surely everyone would see were for the greater good. Like having your wife play more than the role o
f a brood mare.’
The fact that he agreed with her, that her words were almost an exact repetition of his own thoughts, was disconcerting. He wasn’t sure that he liked it. ‘A woman’s first duty is to her children.’
‘A wife’s first duty is to her husband,’ Celia said tartly. ‘I fail to see how she can perform that fully when you lock her away from the world in a harem.’
‘I’ve told you before, it is to protect her.’ She was right, he knew that, but he didn’t like being forced into defending something he had himself criticised. It put him in the wrong. Ramiz was not used to being in the wrong. ‘Not all women are as—as capable as you, Lady Celia,’ he threw at her exasperatedly. ‘You forget that a wife’s role is also to be a woman. Women, in case you have forgotten, are supposed to be the gentle sex. We have a saying here: a good woman is one who listens with stitched lips.’
‘And we have a saying in England. The road to success is more easily travelled with a woman to mark the route!’
Ramiz threw his head back and laughed. ‘Admit it—you made that up.’
He looked so much younger when he smiled. ‘Yes,’ Celia conceded, ‘but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.’
‘I’m afraid it is a road I will have to travel alone, albeit with a few beautiful princesses in tow.’ He did not quite manage to keep the bitterness from his voice.
‘Why shouldn’t you choose a wife you can like—grow to love, even? You’re the Prince. You can do as you wish.’
‘What I wish just now is to end this topic of discussion.’
‘Ramiz, when you said I was a capable woman, what did you mean?’
A faint flush, just the tiniest trace of colour, kissed her cheeks. Her heavy lids veiled her eyes. ‘You are not submissive. You speak your mind.’
‘I thought—at least I used to think—that was a good thing. It’s how I’ve been brought up—to think for myself, but not to…to trample on the opinion of others. I hope I don’t do that.’
‘That’s not what I meant, and you don’t. You listen. You’re a very good listener.’
‘But what did you mean, then? Did you mean that I’m intimidating?’
‘Not to me!’
‘But I could be to other men?’
He saw it then. She didn’t mean other men. She meant one in particular. Her dead husband. ‘A man who is threatened by a woman is not worthy of being called a man, Celia,’ Ramiz said gently. ‘Below the capable veneer you present to the world, you are every inch a woman. Did I not tell you last night? You are beautiful.’
She shivered as Ramiz lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. It felt shockingly more intimate than being kissed on the back of her hand. His lips were warm. Instinctively her fingers curled, forming a little hollow for him. She felt his tongue licking over the pad of her thumb and closed her eyes as the muscles in her belly clenched in response. ‘Am I? Do you really think so?’ she said, her voice sounding as if she were parched.
Ramiz laughed huskily, his breath caressing her fingers. ‘Did I not prove that to you last night too? The point is not what I think, but what you think. Until you believe in your own beauty you will never be able to enjoy it. And if you can’t enjoy it…’
Celia tugged her hand away, blushing furiously. ‘That sort of enjoyment is what your women learn in the harem.’
‘As you did.’
‘We are not in the harem now.’
Ramiz pushed himself back in his chair, running his hand through his close-cropped hair. ‘No, we’re not. You’re right. You may select some books to take back with you. I have more business to attend to.’
‘Ramiz?’
‘Well?’
‘I meant it when I offered to help. If there is anything I can do—I’m used to being busy. Being waited on hand and foot, having nothing more to do than decide which scent to pour into my bath, is all very well for a few days, but—is there nothing?’
‘You’re bored?’
She nodded.
‘Would you like to see the city?’
Celia’s eyes lit up. ‘I’d love that.’
‘I can’t spare the time today, and I would not trust you with another escort, but I will take you tomorrow. I could arrange for you to pay a visit to Akil’s wife instead, if you wish. Yasmina speaks good English. You will still be spending the day in another harem, of course, but at least it won’t be this one.’
Celia smiled with pleasure. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’
‘One last thing. Delightful as it was, last night was a mistake. It won’t happen again. Ever.’
He was gone through the heavily draped doorway before she could answer him. Which is just as well, Celia thought, inspecting the shelves of the library, because I have no idea whether that is a good thing or not!
Deciding it was best not to even attempt to make sense of that, she instead busied herself in preparation for her outing to visit Akil’s wife. It would be good to spend time with another woman. It would also be good to spend time away from the deeply unsettling presence of one particular man.
Chapter Six
Yasmina, a rather beautiful woman with eyes the colour of bitter chocolate and skin like toasted almonds, welcomed Celia warmly, pouring tea from a silver samovar into delicate crystal glasses in silver holders, speaking in careful English with a slight French accent.
The harem itself was a smaller version of the one occupied by Celia in the royal palace, a series of salons built around a courtyard with a fountain and lemon trees, but there the resemblance ended. The entrance was a gilded gate, not a door, and though it was guarded it was not locked. The rooms themselves were populated with Yasmina and Akil’s four children, Yasmina’s mother, Akil’s widowed sister and her two children.
‘I expect you think all harems are full of sultry slave girls,’ Yasmina said, offering Celia a selection of delicately sugared pastries stuffed with sultanas and apricots. ‘The fact is that most are like this. We all have our own salons, so we can be private when we wish to, but we eat and work together, we read and sew together, and as you can see we don’t have to worry about being veiled.’
‘But don’t you mind being confined to one place like this?’
Yasmina laughed. ‘We’re not. The gate isn’t locked. It’s just symbolic. It marks a border that we can cross only if we are covered. You will find it is the same in all households in the city. In the desert it is different. Women can wander more freely with their tribes.’
‘The door to the harem at the palace is locked.’
Yasmina nodded. ‘That was Ramiz’s brother Asad’s doing. Are there still eunuchs?’
‘Two of them.’
‘Akil says that Ramiz doesn’t know what to do with them. There used to be about ten, but the rest of them were happy to return to Turkey, where they came from, when Asad died. Akil says that Asad kept slaves there too.’ Yasmina pulled her cushion closer to Celia’s and lowered her voice conspiratorially. ‘Concubines, from the East. They say they knew things which would make a man faint with delight.’
‘What sort of things?’ Celia asked, as much fascinated as shocked.
Yasmina pouted. ‘I don’t know. I asked Akil, but he wouldn’t tell me. I don’t think he knew either, though he wouldn’t admit it. You know how men are—they like to think they know everything. Anyway, when Asad died Ramiz sent all the women home with dowries, and the wives went back to their families. We all assumed it was because Ramiz was going to take a wife, but he shows no sign of doing so. You should be honoured. You are the first woman to be permitted to enter Ramiz’s harem. You will be the envy of every woman in the region.’
‘But it’s not like that. There is no question of me becoming…’
‘His wife? Goodness, no,’ Yasmina said with a shocked gasp. ‘Of course not. A woman like you would not be permitted to marry Ramiz.’ She placed the large tray with the glasses and samovar out of reach and beckoned to her two youngest children, a boy of three and a girl of two. �
��This is my son, Samir, and my daughter, Farida.’
The little girl clung shyly to her mother’s arm, but Samir was bolder, and reached out to touch Celia’s hair. Smiling, she took him onto her lap and allowed him to play with her pearls, at which point Farida overcame her fear of the strange woman in the funny dress and demanded a turn. Laughing, Celia balanced the two children on her lap and taught them to play a clapping game which she’d used to play with her sisters, after which Samir insisted she accompany them on a grand tour of the courtyard to meet the other children. Rejoining Yasmina half an hour later, Celia was rather tousled, and extremely grateful for the cool drink of sherbet which her hostess handed her.
‘You are very good with children,’ Yasmina said, taking a sip of her own drink. ‘I hope you have the opportunity to have some of your own one day.’
‘That’s unlikely now. I doubt I will marry again.’ Celia bit her lip. ‘Yasmina, when you said a woman like me could never marry Ramiz, did you mean because I am from the West?’
‘Well, that is certainly an issue—it is expected he will marry a princess of Arabic blood—but it is not the main problem. It is because you were married.’
‘But my husband is dead.’
Yasmina looked at her in surprise. ‘That is not the point. You are not a virgin. Ramiz is a prince of royal blood. His first wife must be his and only his. His seed must be the only seed planted in her garden.’ Celia blushed, but Yasmina continued, seemingly oblivious of having said anything untoward. ‘His second wife now, or his third, if she were widowed it would not matter so much, but a first wife like me is the most important,’ she said proudly. ‘It is she who bears the heir. Not that I expect Akil to take another wife. Unless he tires of me—but that would be unlikely, for I am most skilled.’
Celia was fascinated and appalled. ‘You mean there are—there are things that women can do to…?’
‘Keep her man?’ Yasmina nodded, smiling coyly. ‘Naturally. One of the advantages of sharing a harem with other women is the sharing of such secrets. Wait here.’
Innocent in the Sheikh's Harem Page 8