Silver Angel

by Johanna Lindsey

  "Do you miss home, Jamila?"

  "Oh, yes. I can't seem to get used to the inactivity here. I was always so busy at home, making the rounds, you know. There never was enough time in a day to fulfill all of my commitments. Here there's too much time with nothing to do. I was convinced the boredom would have me fit for Bedlam, but of course, that was because it took so long for the Dey to get over his anger and finally notice me." She leaned closer and lowered her voice to confide, "I've only been an ikbal this past month, but it's made all the difference. Now there's the anticipation of never knowing when I might be summoned, but knowing I will be because the Dey never ignores his favorites for more than a week. The wait is exciting, the day I'm actually summoned so thrilling, with everyone so envious. But you know that now. He's such a wonderful lover, isn't he?"

  Yes, wonderful. There was no denying it to herself, and certainly not to any of his women who knew firsthand that it was so. Chantelle shied away from that thought, remembering again Jamil's words that had assured her he had been with no other woman.

  Jamila hadn't waited for confirmation of her last statement. She was still rambling on. "Poor Sheelah doesn't know what to think, as you might imagine. She loves him so."

  "Do you?" Chantelle couldn't resist asking.

  The brunette shrugged. "I don't know, really. Each time I'm with him, I think surely I must love him. I was so relieved when I first saw him, that he wasn't old, or fat, or ugly. And having seen him, I thought I would die, waiting for him to notice me. Actually, I can't think of a single man of my acquaintance in England who can compare with him, he's so handsome. But—" She paused for a moment and glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing of them before she whispered, "If I could be ransomed tomorrow, I wouldn't be disappointed to leave here. The Dey is wonderful and kind and so sexy, and I've been so lucky that I was bought for him rather than someone else, but I'd rather have a man I could call my own, who would be available to me anytime I wanted him. I guess I'm a little selfish."

  "Not at all," Chantelle assured her. "It's the way we were raised."

  "Then you don't like it either, having to share him?"

  Chantelle didn't care to answer that. She said instead, "All our lives we've taken it for granted that we would marry, and naturally we expected to be our husband's one and only love."

  "Exactly." Jamila beamed. "No one else will admit that. But then they've all been here so much longer and are accustomed to this arrangement. I suppose we will be, too, when the years start rolling by. But it's a shame." She giggled and rolled her eyes. "With what I've learned here, I don't think any husband of mine would be bored and out looking for a mistress too soon."

  Chantelle grinned despite herself. "No, I don't think he would."

  "But I'm not likely to ever find out." Jamila finally laid her head down on her crossed arms with a sigh. "Sheelah was the lucky one. I thought surely the Dey really loved her. Oh, he gives to the rest of us of his body, but to her he gave from the heart. It was so romantic watching them together," Another sigh. "You could see the difference last week, though, when he joined us all for Noura's little party. It was the first time I'd ever seen him divide his attention so equally between us when Sheelah was present. She was crushed."

  Chantelle frowned. She had spoken with the first kadine several times since that infamous feast that she had helped to prepare, but not once had she sensed any great unhappiness in her.

  Jamila's eyes were closed now, so she didn't see how this bit of gossip had affected Chantelle. She blithely continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if Noura had hoped something like that would happen. She's always hated Sheelah for being the Dey's first wife and would do or say anything if she thought it would hurt her. I ought to warn you if no one else has, to watch out for Noura. Everyone swears she tried to kill Sheelah's son after her own was born, but it could never be proved.''

  "Are you serious, Jamila?"

  "Mmm." Her eyes popped open. "Oh! I didn't mean to frighten you. You surely don't have anything to worry about, at least for a while. Noura's worst spite is reserved for those who have born the Dey's children. I just wanted to warn you so you wouldn't take anything she says to heart."

  "I appreciate it, but I've already taken her measure. A more vindictive woman I've never met."

  "That's Noura." Jamila grinned. "You just have to learn to ignore her, as everyone else does."

  "I will," Chantelle replied. "But what about Sheelah? Why was she so nice to me when she must hate me—"

  "Oh, no! You mustn't think that. She isn't capable of hating anyone, not even Noura. Sheelah just isn't that way."

  Why did that make Chantelle feel terrible instead of relieved? "If you say so."

  "Oh, dear, I've upset you, haven't I? I didn't mean to, really I didn't."

  "It's all right, Jamila."

  "Are you sure? You're not just saying that?"

  "Not at all."

  "Good, because I was so hoping we could be friends. But you mustn't feel guilty about Sheelah. She wouldn't want that. And it's not exactly as if you were the 'other woman.' " Jamila chuckled here. "How could you be when there are so many other women?''

  "But she's his wife."

  "One of three wives, and we're his favorites, and he doesn't neglect the other concubines for long either. That's life here. Whoever he favors for the moment is the lucky one. You must enjoy it while it lasts."

  Meaning it wouldn't last? Chantelle didn't voice that question. "I don't like being the cause of someone else's hurt."

  "Oh, but you're not," the girl assured her. "Why, Jamil summoned Sheelah the day before he first summoned you to him. And she'll likely be the first one he wants as soon as he gives you a rest, so don't worry about her. Even if he does come to favor you above her, she'll still be next after you. After all, she bore him his first son and he absolutely adores the boy. She's only been upset by the difference in the way he has behaved toward her since you've been visiting him. She just wasn't expecting it."

  Chantelle hadn't heard much after that second sentence. "Do you mean that he made love to Sheelah after he bought me?"

  "Well, of course he did," Jamila said in surprise. "You were in training, if you remember, so he couldn't very well summon you, though that was certainly cut short, wasn't it? But as I recall, he still called Sheelah to him the night he bought you. And actually, I had the next night, which was a relief to me, because I thought I'd be the first to go when you became a favorite. As it turned out, Mara was sent back instead. It was only after he first summoned you that he called no one else to him. You don't know how lucky you are, Shahar, to have him to yourself for a whole week. I managed only two days in a row my first time before Sheelah was back in his bed."

  Chantelle closed her eyes and counted silently to ten. She mustn't let this news disturb her. Just because it appeared Jamil had lied to her didn't mean he actually had, or that it had been deliberate. He hadn't precisely said that he hadn't made love to anyone else. He had asked her how he could invite another to his bed. Well, he could, obviously. He had only implied that it wasn't likely.

  No, no, she mustn't think he deliberately meant to deceive her. Perhaps he had meant to say that he hadn't been able to think of anyone but her since he first summoned her, rather than when he first saw her, and Jamila had just confirmed that that at least was true. And besides, hadn't she assumed he was still sleeping with his wives even while he was seeing her? She hadn't let that stop her from surrendering to him. Oh, but it had been so romantic to hear him say that only she would do from the moment his eyes had first beheld her.

  Those words were more than a little responsible for her contentment this morning and had gone a long way toward making her ignore the fact that she wasn't Jamil's only concubine. Everyone here was sharing him with her, but that she hadn't as yet shared him with anyone made a great deal of difference. It made all the difference, actually.

  She would just have to ask him about it when she joined him tonight. I
f he could assure her that there wouldn't be anyone else . . .

  "Oh!" Jamila squealed suddenly, only to end on a less ecstatic note. "Oh, dear. Are you sure?"

  Chantelle glanced at her to find a servant squatted next to her and whispering in her ear. "What is it?"

  "I've been summoned for tonight," the brunette said in amazement. "I wasn't expecting . . . well, no one would have expected ... he must be angry with Sheelah for some reason to ignore her like this. Yes, that must be it." She sat up, grinning delightedly. "Oh, but I certainly can't complain. I thought I would have to wait weeks and weeks to have my turn again, what with you here now." She placed a hand excitedly on Chantelle's arm. "Be happy for me, Shahar. I do so like this business of making love." And then she was off, pulling her servant along toward the bath cubicles.

  Chantelle didn't move or even breathe for a moment, until she realized her stupid eyes were starting to water. Oh, God, don't you dare!

  She put her head down and managed to inconspicuously wipe each eye against her forearms before she jumped up. She had to get out of this crowded room immediately, and she didn't dare risk the long walk back to her rooms along paths just as crowded. No one, not anyone at all, was going to be able to say she had seen Chantelle the least bit disturbed by how quickly the Dey had lost interest in her. Quickly? No, most everyone thought she had been sharing his bed all week, which would make it even worse if the women believed she was upset to lose that privilege now. Privilege, ha! God, what an utter fool she had been!

  She stood there for a moment, agonizing that she couldn't think of a single place where she could be alone long enough to get herself under control. And then it came to her, where the steam was so thick that even if she wasn't alone, no one could see her clearly enough to discern her emotions.

  Quickly, Chantelle made her way toward the steam rooms, swallowing against the knot that had formed in her throat, praying that no one noticed her departure or at least couldn't see her eyes, which were already filling with moisture again. One of the steam rooms was empty, thank God. She stretched out on a bench in the corner and buried her head in her arms. The tears were impossible to hold back.

  That rotten, perfidious, lecherous sod. She hated him, despised him. Oh, God, it hurt, and it was her own fault. She was so stupid! To think for one moment that he might have had feelings for her other than simple lust. How naive could she be? And how quickly he showed his true colors the moment he got what he wanted. But never again. If the Burkes did anything, they learned from their mistakes. So she had been seduced. So she was silly enough to have formed some romantic notions about the man. Thank God those would be nipped in the bud before the relationship got serious and she imagined herself in love with him. She couldn't begin to think how she would feel now if that were the case. This was bad enough.

  What was so appalling was that she had truly deluded herself. She should have expected this. Hadn't she had enough warnings? Just about everyone had told her how much Jamil loved Sheelah, but was he faithful to his first wife? Not even a little bit. So what in hell had made her think it would be any different in her case? He didn't love her. Even if he did, he wouldn't give up his other women for her, the mothers of his children, his Sheelah. She had been harboring impossible dreams, so she had no one to blame for what she was feeling now but herself.

  A moment later, Chantelle heard voices outside the room, getting louder. Let them pass, please. But if they didn't . . .

  She sat up and quickly dried her face with the sleeve of her robe. She had to be grateful for small things inasmuch as Adamma hadn't applied her cosmetics yet, so there was no telltale kohl smeared by her tears. Stupid tears. How dared she cry over that son-of-a-camel's-turd? A giggle almost escaped. She would have to stick to English curses. She didn't have the flair Adamma had for Turkish ones.

  The steam in the room wasn't quite as thick now, so it was probably one of the attendants coming . . . no, that tone was too imperious for an attendant. "... want no more excuses! It should never have taken this long!" There was a man's soothing voice in reply, but he was speaking too low for Chantelle to hear what he said. The woman's angry voice was quite clear, however, as she continued. "Take this and sell it. If that doesn't buy some courage, I'll have to—" There was an interruption by the man. "What about the boy?" Another mumbled reply, and then the woman said. "Yes, go ahead and arrange it. Nothing else has been able to draw him out of the palace, so maybe that will. But if it does, there had better be results. No more bungles or I will take it out of your hide. And don't you dare shush me, Ali! No one is-"

  Chantelle barely heard the last, for they did indeed pass on down the hall. Too bad, for whatever they were arguing about was just getting interesting. Not that she had made head or tail out of it, but it had served to get her mind off herself for a moment, and now she felt she could safely make it back to her rooms.

  She didn't notice the two people standing at the end of the hall when she left the steam room, but they noticed her.

  "Do you think she could have overheard?" the eunuch asked.

  "No, but just in case . . ."

  "I'll see to it personally, lalla. "

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chantelle was blurry-eyed when she entered the baths the next afternoon, but nothing could have kept her away, not her queasy stomach, not Adamma's warnings that everyone would be talking about her today, and certainly not her own desire to hide herself away. She had too much pride for that, and besides, she had herself in hand now. As far as anyone could tell by looking at her, she wasn't the least bit upset over what had happened yesterday.

  But Adamma hadn't exaggerated. She was the center of attention. If she had been favored by Jamil for only a day or two, that would have been normal and not worth more than a passing comment. But she had been summoned not only before her training was even near completion, but also for six nights in a row, which was apparently a new record for Jamil. Because of that, a definite reaction was expected.

  Well, she had reacted all right, and exactly how it was hoped she would by those who were envious of her. But she'd be damned if anyone here would know it. So she endured the sneers and gloating looks, the whispers and outright laughter when she came near, though to be fair, she realized not all the women were so petty in their jealousy. She even managed to smile through a run-in with Noura, who couldn't wait to tell her that Jamila was so exhausted that she was still sleeping at this late hour.

  That had hurt, because she had felt the same way yesterday morning. She was exhausted today as well, but for a different reason. She had found no pleasure in last night's sleeplessness. The whole evening had been a miserable experience. She had refused all visitors and so suffered only Adamma's company. And the girl had behaved as if she were the one out of favor, moping around with a long face.

  Misery loves company, but Chantelle would rather have done without last night. She hadn't been able to eat more than a few bites of her dinner, thanks to her emotionally distraught state, and even that much she had lost later in the night. Her stomach still didn't feel up to nourishment, which was another mark against Jamil. The bloody sod had given her indigestion.

  Chantelle had just left the baths to enter the communal chamber when Adamma rushed in, wreathed in smiles, to tell her she had been summoned for tonight. And the girl couldn't have said this quietly. No, she had to practically shout it, deliberately, Chantelle suspected. But Aunt Ellen would have been proud. Chantelle didn't even bat an eye. She did no more than nod and calmly leave the hammam to return to her rooms, giving the impression that she accepted the summons as a matter of course. But she didn't. No, not in the least.

  Once in her quarters, she went straight into her bedchamber and did not come out. She could hear Adamma pacing on the other side of the curtain that separated the two rooms. She hadn't said a word to the girl, so she was no doubt anxious to begin the preparations. But Chantelle had nothing to prepare for.

  Adamma waited no more than twenty minutes b
efore she finally poked her head through the curtain.

  She found her mistress in front of the window, staring out at the garden.

  "Lalla?"

  "Yes?"

  "Shouldn't we begin—"

  "No."

  "But-"

  "I'm not going, Adamma."

  Shahar hadn't turned from the garden. Her voice hadn't been raised in the least. Adamma chewed on her lower lip. She should have expected this, but hadn't.

  "Are you ill, lalla?" she asked hesitantly.

  Chantelle glanced over her shoulder. "Ill?" She smiled tightly. "No, but that excuse will do as well as any to avoid a battle royal. Have Kadar inform Haji Agha so the Dey can make other arrangements for tonight."

  Adamma groaned and rushed to the front door to find the black eunuch in his customary post outside it. "She's not going!" the girl blurted out.

  Kadar came instantly to his feet. "Is she ill?" He asked the same question.

  "No, but you must tell Haji Agha that she is."