Devil's Daughter

by Catherine Coulter

  “Hey, you there, hold. What do you want with my ship?”

  It was Captain Risan.

  She closed her eyes against his voice. Run, escape. She lunged away from the dock, back toward the narrow, dark streets. She heard his voice again, raised high, cursing her. The boots dragged up and down over her heels, slowing her and making her grit her teeth in pain. Her back hurt so badly she wanted to howl, but she didn’t have the breath to do it.

  He was so close she could hear him breathing. She felt a hand come down on her shoulder, and reeled. She turned, her hand balled into a fist, and struck out at him. He growled in fury, and shoved her, hooking his booted foot behind her legs. Arabella sprawled to her back in the dirt, Risan slamming down over her. She struggled, hitting his face, but he grabbed her wrists and pulled them down against her belly.

  She saw his fist above her face, and closed her eyes against the pain, but nothing happened.

  “By the beard of the Prophet,” he said. “It’s a boy.”

  She looked at his surprised face. “Let me go,” she said low, trying to heave him off her. “I mean you no harm. I did nothing.”

  Four men were standing over her, laughing and pointing. She couldn’t understand what they were saying. She twisted suddenly, but it only brought Risan forward, his face but inches above her own.

  She heard a sharp intake of breath. She dredged up the foulest language she had ever heard and yelled it in his face.

  He stiffened, his eyes never leaving her face. Suddenly his dark eyes glistened. Slowly he lowered his hand to her breast.

  “By Allah, I don’t believe this.” He ripped the burnoose from her head.

  “Please,” she whispered, her eyes fastened upon Risan’s face, unaware of the stunned silence around them. “Let me go.”

  “It is you,” he said. “And I believed you ugly as a camel wallowing in a dung heap.” He eased off her, clasped her wrists more tightly, and pulled her to her feet. He had no fear that she would escape, for his men surrounded her. He grinned, his white teeth flashing in the near-darkness, and gave her a deep bow. “Lady Arabella,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Were you seeking me, my lady, or are you a gift from Allah?”

  “I have money. Please, captain, you must help me get away from here. I will pay you well. I must return to Genoa. At least show me a ship bound for Italy, please.”

  Risan motioned to one of the men and spoke a few sharp words. Arabella felt her arms pulled behind her back. She stilled. She shrank back against the man as Risan reached his hand to her hair. The man thrust his hips against her, laughing as he did so.

  “Hold still, my lady,” Risan said, “else you will inflame my men.” She felt his fingers touch her hair, then slowly begin to unwind the thick braid around her head. “Please, don’t.”

  “If only I had known,” he said, as if to himself, “I might not have sailed so quickly to Oran.” He lifted a mass of hair and brought it to his face. She watched him rub it against his cheek. “I do not think I want to know how you managed to escape my half-brother. I will even pretend that I do not notice you are wearing the uniform of his guards.”

  “You will help me?”

  “Let us say, cara, that I will not be so careless with you as my brother was. After I have my fill of you, perhaps I will free you, perhaps I will return you to Kamal. You will be one of the few women to have knowledge of both of us.”

  “No.” She felt Risan’s hand touch her face and she forgot everything. She kicked out at him in fury and drove her elbows into the stomach of the man who held her. She heard a grunt of pain but the man didn’t loose his hold. She saw Risan’s face contort. “I should take you right here, in the dirt and filth, with my men holding you down.” Suddenly he whirled about. Arabella raised dazed eyes. A half-dozen men on horseback were bearing down on them, Kamal at their head. Her heart leapt at the sight of him. He looked otherworldly in the dark night, his white burnoose flowing out behind him.

  Kamal leapt off his stallion’s back, relief flooding through him at the sight of Arabella.

  “I believe you lost something, brother,” Risan said, bowing deeply.

  “Release her,” Kamal said in a flat cold voice. She was staring at him, her hair tangled about her pale face, her eyes wide.

  “I found her, Kamal,” Risan continued. “I will pay you for her.”

  Kamal held out his hand, and Arabella, without a thought of anything except that he was there, took three steps toward him and pressed herself against his side. He felt a shudder run though her.

  “You will be rewarded, Risan, for finding my property.” Her gratitude did not last long, he thought, feeling her stiffen. “I would pay you with the money she carries, but unfortunately it is stolen.”

  Without another word, Kamal swung up onto his horse’s back. For a long moment he merely stared down at Arabella. Then he gave her his hand and pulled her up in front of him. His stallion, Timar, snorted at the extra weight, dancing sideways until he heard his master’s voice quieting him. “Put on the burnoose. It is chilly where we are going.”

  Arabella did as she was told, wondering at the odd flatness of his voice. Anger, rage, she could better understand.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked after she had wrapped herself completely in the full white burnoose.

  “Be silent,” Kamal said. He turned in his saddle and gave orders in Arabic to the men behind him.

  Arabella watched the town of Oran and the harbor recede in the distance. They were riding inland, toward a range of mountains.

  The horse lengthened his stride as they reached open ground, and Arabella felt Kamal’s arms tighten about her waist. She turned slightly, fatigue washing over her, and rested her head against his chest.

  Chapter 25

  Arabella snuggled closer, not wanting to leave the safety of her dreams, but his voice came again, his warm breath touching her temple. “Wake up, Arabella. You can sleep again, soon.”

  “Kamal?”

  His arms tightened about her. “Put your arms around my neck and hang on.”

  She did as she was bid, aware that his stallion was quiet now. “Where are we?”

  He did not reply until he had dismounted. “We’re at our camp.”

  She raised her head from his shoulder and blinked at the activity. “It’s still night,” she said as he eased her to the ground.

  “Yes. You slept for but an hour. Sit here until our tent is ready.”

  Arabella sank to the rocky ground, wrapped the heavy burnoose more securely about her against the cold, and stared around her. They were on a flat stretch of ground at the base of rolling hills. One of the men was building a fire; another was lighting lamps and setting them at intervals around the area. She recognized Ali working with yet another man to erect a tent. She heard the snorting of horses and watched Kamal pull the saddle from his stallion and lead him into a small fenced-in area. What camp? she wondered. Why had Kamal brought her here? And where was “here”? She looked up at the sky, black as velvet, studded with stars that looked like sparkling diamonds. Everything was so quiet. It was as if they were the only humans on earth.

  “Come.”

  She looked up to see Kamal standing over her, his hand outstretched. She studied his set face in the flickering firelight.

  “Where?”

  He leaned down, grasped her under the arms, and jerked her to her feet. “I have a lot to say to you, my lady,” he said coldly, “and not in my men’s hearing.”

  He was like a stranger in the long flowing white robe and hood that was secured to his head with corded leather bands. The boots slid off her heels and she moaned softly at the pain.

  “I have not hurt you. What is the matter?”

  “My feet hurt,” she said, not looking at him.

  Kamal looked down at her booted feet, then shouted something in Arabic to one of the men. She took another step before Kamal, cursing softly, lifted her into his arms. He carried her into a tent and sat her do
wn on a cushion. The tent wasn’t large, but its slender poles held the tent ceiling above Kamal’s head. Animal furs were spread as a bed; thick carpets covered the rocky ground; a brazier of coals burned brightly against the night chill.

  “I suggest, my lady, that you keep your tongue between your teeth. I am in no mood for your arrogance. Now, let’s get those boots off and see what you’ve managed to do to your feet.”

  Arabella gritted her teeth and raised her leg. She felt tears sting her eyes as the leather scraped over her raw heel.

  “You are nothing less than a fool,” Kamal said after he had pulled off her other boot. Her heels were raw and bleeding. He turned and left the tent, to return a few moments later with a basin of water and a cloth.

  She cried out when he pressed the wet cloth to her heels. His lips were a thin line; otherwise, he paid her no heed. When he set her feet in the basin of water, Arabella rose off the pillows with a yelp of pain.

  “Sit still,” he said, clamping his hands on her shoulders. After a moment, he rose, and again left her.

  Arabella stared ahead of her, seeing nothing. This is ridiculous, she thought, trying to turn her mind from the stinging pain. Sitting here like an idiot with my feet soaking in water, with a man who would just as soon wring my neck as look at me. She tugged off the burnoose and flung it away from her.

  The sight that greeted Kamal upon his return was almost comic. Tendrils of hair curled haphazardly about her face. The large uniform made her look like a girl playing grown-up. He stopped smiling when he saw the water was tinged red.

  “Lie down.”

  “Why?”

  “What a pity,” he said, ignoring her, “that you could not find a guard with smaller feet.” He lifted her feet from the basin and pressed her backward. He sat down beside her, drawing her feet onto his lap. He daubed a healing ointment onto the raw flesh, then wrapped both her feet in clean white cloths. “There,” he said, not looking at her.

  “What do you intend to do with me, Kamal?”

  He raised his head and noted her pallor and the shadows of exhaustion beneath her eyes. “What you did, Arabella,” he said at last, his voice low and controlled, “was so incredibly stupid that, had I not known you, I would have laughed at the story of a woman dressed as a man traipsing alone to the harbor of Oran. Did you honestly believe that you could board a ship and simply sail to Genoa?”

  She knew he was right, knew that her desperation had led her to commit an act that was sheer folly. “Did you expect me to docilely await the arrival of my father? Greet him dressed in heathen veils, and watch you condemn him for an act of which he is innocent?” She jumped to her feet, her hands fisted at her sides. “Just what do you intend now, master? Another beating to make you feel strong and powerful? I wish you had not come. What is another rape? Perhaps your brother would have been kind enough to kill me once he was though.”

  Kamal felt a pulse pound in his temple. He rose to face her.

  “I don’t care what you do to me.”

  He seized her arms and shook her until her head snapped back. She didn’t have the strength to fight him and when he drew her against him, she laid her head against his shoulder.

  He felt her flinch when his hands rubbed her back, and he cursed.

  “Is Lella all right?”

  “Yes, she does well. She bore a son, the image of his father.”

  “Then she is happy.”

  “Yes.” He pushed her away and began to unfasten her shirt.

  “You plan another rape?”

  His hands stilled. He cupped her chin in his palm and forced her face upward to meet his gaze. “Rape, Arabella? Have you managed to twist what happened that night between us, as you have twisted other things? As I recall, you wanted me as much as I wanted you. Do you not remember how you yielded to me, how warm your body was for me? You can pretend many things, Arabella, but not what I felt when I was inside you.”

  “Stop it. I will not listen to you. It was nothing, I tell you, I only—”

  He kissed her. He held her head, forcing her to accept the punishment of his mouth. He forced her lips to part and thrust his tongue into her mouth, knowing he was savaging her, bruising her. Suddenly his anger dissolved in his need for her. He eased his pressure, now seducing her with his tongue. He kissed her mouth, her closed eyes, the tip of her nose. He slipped his hand between them and let his fingers caress her belly. He felt her resistance disappear as his fingers pressed lower, probing gently at her.

  “No.” She felt his palm pressing lightly against her, and she could not seem to call up a shred of resistance.

  “You are moving against me, cara,” he said into her mouth. “I want to touch you, Arabella, feel you open yourself to me. I want to taste you.”

  “No.” Her breath caught in her throat when his hand left her. Then he lifted her, pressing her belly against him. “Please,” she whispered, “don’t make me feel this way. Please—”

  “Feel how much I want you, Arabella,” he said, molding her hips against him. “I want to be deep inside you, make you part of me, bind us together.”

  He let her slide back down his body, then pressed her back against his arm. He kissed her deeply while his hand stroked over her.

  She felt pleasure course through her, but the ache was lower, pounding at her, making her move against him for relief. He slipped his thigh between her legs and pressed upward. She cried out, unable to help herself. She moved against him wildly, so beyond herself that she wasn’t aware that he was pulling off her shirt until she felt the cool air on her breasts. She felt the heat from his body and wanted him naked against her. Desperately she fumbled with his belt. She felt dazed and helpless and frantic. She was tugging at his clothes, vaguely aware that his body was quivering.

  Kamal released her, closing his eyes an instant to get control of himself. Quickly he pulled off her men’s clothes, and the sight of her, naked, trembling, ready for him, nearly undid him. He jerked her up into his arms and carried her to the pile of soft furs that was his bed. He gently laid her upon her back, but she wouldn’t release him. She was arching up to him, her hands tugging at his neck to pull him down to her.

  “Just a moment, love.”

  “I cannot bear it. Please—”

  When he was naked, he held himself back, lying beside her but not yet touching her.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said.

  He moved on top of her. He balanced himself on his elbows, arching his back so that he was hard and demanding between her legs.

  “Tell me you want me, Arabella.”

  “I want—” Her words stuck in her throat.

  “Wrap your legs around me.” She felt as though she were merging with him, becoming a part of him, and the image was as blinding as the sun. He felt her final cry, the immense shuddering of her body, and released the hold he had on himself.

  “I can feel you.”

  Kamal felt as though his very soul had been torn from his body. He fell on top of her, and she took his full weight, clutching at his back to bring him even closer. He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “You are mine, Arabella,” he said. He pushed back damp hair from her forehead. “Now and always. You are mine.”

  His words floated gently over her mind, and she smiled and closed her eyes.

  Kamal pulled away from her, his eyes never leaving her face. Nothing was decided, save that he could not let her go. He closed his eyes a moment, unwilling to admit to the vagaries of fate that had brought him a woman he could not have. He remembered her back and gently turned her onto her stomach. The welts had faded, leaving faint red lines. His fingers slowly traced over the marks, as if willing them to disappear. What in God’s name was he to do?

  Slowly, careful not to awaken her, Kamal turned her toward him and gathered her in his arms. He felt her stir and press more closely against him. He pulled a soft wool cover over them, wondering as he did so if when she awoke she would pull away from him and deny what had happened be
tween them.

  Arabella awoke slowly. She was lying on her side, one leg bent upward, the other straight. She felt his hands stroking her hips. She caught her breath when she felt him press closer, easing slowly into her.

  His hands were gently kneading her belly, drawing her downward to take more of him into her. “No.” She was fully awake now.

  “Hush, love.” His hands moved upward to fondle her, and as always with him, she felt her resistance fading. Without conscious thought, she moved to draw him deeper. But even as her passion mounted, she was aware of what she was doing, aware that he was robbing her of her will. Tears stung her eyes.

  Kamal eased out of her and gently turned her onto her back. He entered her once again. He felt her muscles tighten around him and he gave a low animal moan and thrust deep. He sought out her mouth. He tasted her salty tears, and jerked back as if she had struck him.

  “Arabella,” he said. He touched his fingertips to her wet cheek and she opened her eyes. “Why are you crying?”

  “Please, let me go. Please don’t do this to me.”

  “I am not hurting you, cara, I am giving you pleasure. There is no place for your tears between us.”

  “I don’t want you to make me feel this way.”

  She felt his shuddering over her, felt him deep inside her. “Arabella, hold still, or I will leave you, and I have no wish to.” She turned her face away, wondering blankly how she could cry at the same time her body was ready to explode with pleasure.

  She felt his lips on the line of her jaw. “I am doing nothing to you but what you wish. I will leave you if you do not want me.”

  She swallowed. “I don’t want you. I hate you—I hate myself.”

  In the next instant she was cold and bare to the cool dawn air. She jerked upright and stared at him. He was lying on his back, his arms pillowing his head. She scrambled to the edge of the thick furs.

  “We will talk,” he said quietly. He could see her trying to gain control of herself.

  Kamal’s thick brows drew together.