Escape from the Harem

by Mary Lyons

  ‘Well, Jade and I had better start packing and getting all our things together,’ Elizabeth said calmly. ‘Little madam, over there, will be overjoyed to return to Muria--and her pony!’ She looked over to where Jade had wandered off after some flowers across the glade. ‘I haven’t said much to you, since there’s been no point in making a meal out of the situation, but there’s no doubt that Jade has been missing her father a great deal, and finding the monthly visits very confusing, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I know,’ Leonie sighed. ‘But there hasn’t been anything I could do about it--not really.’

  ‘Never mind. She’ll soon perk up and settle down when we get back. Children are very resilient, you know,’ Elizabeth murmured sympathetically. ‘And with her pony and her stu-pen-dous uncle Feisal, she’ll soon forget all her worries!’

  ‘Oh, Elizabeth.' Leonie gave a shaky laugh. ‘You’re a terrible governess! Surely you could have taught her another favourite word by now?’

  'Hmm, I have tried, but none of the ones I suggest seem to have taken root in that active little brain. The main trouble is that the interesting sounding words are more often than not, thoroughly rude-if not downright pornographic!’

  ‘What’s por-no-graph-ic mean, Mummy?’ Jade asked, having come up without the two women hearing her approach. ‘Why are you and Miss Jackson laughing like that? Shall I take these flowers in to Hussa, I’m sure she will like them.’

  ‘I’m sure she will, darling,’ Leonie laughed and took her hand. ‘Come on, it is nearly time for lunch, and I’m sure you must be hungry,’ she added as they walked back into the house.

  The young doctor’s warning had proved to be correct, Leonie realised, when Sheikh Samir flew down to see her three days later.

  ‘His Majesty suggests that you might consider being ready to leave in four days’ time. The meteorological report is not good, and he is anxious that you should be well away from this area before the rains come.’

  ‘I think that is more of an order than a suggestion, don’t you?’ Leonie murmured wryly. ‘However, you may tell the Sultan that I shall concur with his wishes. Where . . . er . . . where exactly are my daughter and I going to live’?’

  The young sheikh looked at her in surprise. ‘You will be taken to your home, of course. To the palace in Muria.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘However, his Majesty has asked me to tell you that . . . er . . . most unfortunately he will be unable to . . . er . . . welcome you back to Muria in person. It is a matter that I am sure he er very much regrets.' The Sheikh cleared his throat nervously. ‘However, I understand that he is about to undertake a tour of the country, and is likely to be away for the next six weeks. He has asked me to assure you that he will, of course, return in ample time to be with you on the birth of his child.’

  Leonie sat back in her chair. ‘You know, Sheikh, I really do feel that you are wasted in your present job. The diplomacy with which you so charmingly translate your master’s commands and edicts has my complete and utter admiration. You should surely be an ambassador, at the very least!’

  Sheikh Samir flinched at the caustic tone in Leonie’s dry voice. ‘I merely try to convey his Majesty’s . . . er . . .’

  ‘I know,’ she said quickly, instantly contrite for taking out her unhappiness and frustration on the young man, who was having to carry out Badyr’s orders. ‘I must apologise for my bad manners, and I hope you will forgive me for being so tiresome.’

  ‘Of course, Majesty,’ he smiled. ‘I realise it is not an easy time for you--with the baby’s birth imminent, I mean,’ he added hastily. ‘And I can assure you, with total sincerity, that it has been a very great pleasure to have been able to visit you over these last few months.’

  ‘Oh, Sheikh Samir? she laughed softly. ‘You really are a splendid diplomat! Now, do please relax. Tell me—how is Maryam?'

  ‘The Princess Maryam is very well,’ he assured her, going on to describe a picnic organised by her Prince Feisal at which, Leonie gathered, the Sheikh and Maryam had been able to spend some time together.

  Leonie no longer wondered why Maryam had been so awkward in her company, when she had returned to Dhoman. She now saw that Badyr’s sister had known all about his second wife, and due to the friendship between them in the past, had found the necessity of suppressing that knowledge more difficult than the other members of the royal family.

  ‘Do please give Maryam my love,’ she said as the young ADC prepared to leave. ‘And tell her that I do understand, and despite all that has passed, I hope she will feel she can come and see me when I retum to Muria.'

  The Sheikh, to his eternal credit, didn’t pretend not to know what Leonie was talking about, but merely bowed over her hand as he promised to deliver the message.

  Leonie was deeply unhappy to leave, but even she was forced to see the sense behind their hasty departure when the heavens opened a day before they left. The thick fog and the never-ending, heavy sheet of pounding rain was as depressing as Badyr had said it would be, and Leonie regretfully resigned herself to her fate. She found some measure of cheer in reflecting that the weather would clear in three months’ time, when she would be able to return to the peace and seclusion of the summer palace.

  Maybe because she was heavily pregnant it seemed a long, hard journey back to the capital city. By the time she arrived at the palace, Leonie’s ankles were puffy and swollen and she felt weary and exhausted. Wearing long filmy robes, the traditional dress of Dhomani women, wasn’t just sensible in the heat but might have been specifically designed to hide the bulky figures of pregnant women, she thought wryly as she lay soaking in the bath.

  Of course, part of the reason she felt so exhausted must be due to the nervous strain of having to retum to this place. She had spoken caustically to Sheikh Samir about his polite explanation of Badyr’s planned absence, but she really ought to be thankful that her husband had chosen to go away. Having to live cheek by jowl with him in an atmosphere of ever-present enmity would have been more than she could bear. And what was Badyr planning to do when she had given birth to the baby? Her threats to harm her unborn child--something she could never have brought herself to actually carry out--would be useless. However, maybe if she had a boy--a son to follow him on the throne--he would feel no need of further procreation? She fervently hoped so.

  A noise in the next room broke through her thoughts. It must be Hussa with the light supper she had ordered, Leonie realised, and removed the bath plug before trying to get out of the large, sunken bath. Unfortunately, it was of a different design from the one she had been used to in the summer palace.

  Please come and give me a hand, Hussa,’ she called out. ‘I think I’ve got stuck in the bath!’ she added with a laugh.

  Hearing footsteps approaching, she turned to smile at Hussa and nearly fainted when she saw not her old servant . . . but the tall figure of Badyr! Her eyes widened in fear, her body trembling as she saw him pause inside the door for a moment before putting out a hand to collect a large fluffy towel, and walking slowly over the marble floor to where she lay trapped in the bath.

  'W-What are you doing here?' she gasped. ‘I . . . I thought you had g-gone away.’ The blood drummed through her veins as she viewed his tall figure, her dazed eyes noticing that he had discarded his black patch and his usual traditional dress, his broad-shouldered frame clothed only in a short towelling robe.

  ‘Unfortunately, I have had no choice but to delay my journey,’ he retorted curtly. ‘I can assure you that it is not on your account, my dear Leonie, that I am still in Muria,’ he added in a cold, hard voice. ‘God knows I do not . . .’

  Badyr drew in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening as he stared down at her body, completely revealed as the last of the bath-water gurgled away. Instinctively, she folded her arms, trying to shield the heavy swell of her stomach and the full ripeness of her breasts.

  ‘No! Let me look at you.' He knelt down to grasp her hands, moving them aside as his eyes travel
led down the length of her body. ‘My child--my son,’ he breathed thickly. She flinched as he reached for her, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he lifted her out of the bath and enfolded her shaking figure in the soft towel.

  ‘How could I have forgotten your gloriously soft flesh?’ he murmured, drying her arms and shoulders before moving gently down to the burgeoning swell of her breasts. ‘So pale . . . so soft and smooth, like silken velvet.’

  ‘Please, no!’ Her low moan of protest was ignored as his hands took the place of the towel, moving erotically over the rosy peaks that hardened and throbbed at his touch.

  ‘Let me go!’ she cried, struggling in vain as he quickly tossed aside the towel, adroitly capturing her wrists and holding them in one of his broad hands behind her back. Arching her body towards him, he allowed his other hand to move tenderly and carefully over the taut mound of her enlarged womb, her body quivering and trembling at his touch and the intensity of his gaze as his eyes devoured the sight of her changed contours.

  His action and her nervous response provoked a reaction as she felt the baby give a protesting kick. Badyr looked at her with startled eyes, his face pale and tense as he quickly released her.

  ‘Your son--or daughter--is clearly feeling energetic tonight,’ she muttered, her teeth chattering nervously as she grabbed the towel; she was still feeling stunned by his unexpected appearance, her senses bemused by the heavy atmosphere of sexual tension which crackled like electricity between them.

  ‘That is really ...? You mean ...?’ He stared in fascination at her stomach as her trembling hands fought with the towel, clumsily trying to hide her nakedness from his sight.

  ‘Oh, Badyr! Surely you know how babies kick?’

  ‘No—how should I? I was not present when you were expecting Jade,’ he retorted savagely. ‘And it would seem, would it not, that once again I have been denied the pleasure of seeing my child grow in your womb?’

  Leonie was confused by the harsh, bitter tone in his voice. Looking at him more closely, she was disturbed to see the deep lines of strain on his face, and surely . . . surely he used not to have silver threads among the black hair at his temples? To her utter consternation, she was suddenly swept by an overwhelming and extraordinary urge to comfort the man gazing at her with such bleak intensity. Without conscious thought Leonie moved slowly towards him, pulling aside the towel as she took his hand and placed it on her stomach.

  ‘You see?’ she whispered as the child within her moved again. ‘Sometimes babies aren’t very active, but as you can see this one—so like its father!—kicks very hard indeed.'

  Although he gave a grunt of laughter at her words, there was a strange look of awe on his tanned face. ‘It seems a miracle that my child should be growing in such a way, and that he will soon be born into this world,’ he murmured. ‘But come, Leonie,’ he added a few moments later, gently lifting her up in his arms. ‘l was told that you arrived very tired and exhausted, so you must now rest.’

  ‘No, please, please put me down, Badyr. l have to oil my body, and really I’m feeling much . . . much . . .’ She couldn’t continue, a hard lump in her throat preventing her from saying any more. She could feel his hard chest muscles and the warmth of his skin through the thin towelling, the harsh planes of his tanned cheek so close to her own and the familiar scent of his cologne filling her nostrils. It was all so evocative of their deliriously happy moments together in the past, those deeply sensual, intimate hours they had spent making love to one another, that she seemed incapable of protest as she felt all her willpower draining away.

  Reminding herself of his despicable conduct appeared to have no effect on the languorous, drowsy lassitude which was seeping through her mind and body as he carried her through into the bedroom. Laying her carefully and tenderly down on the bed, he left her to return a few moments later with a bottle in his hands.

  ‘There is no need to worry, my Leonie,’ he murmured, sitting down on the bed beside her. ‘I will smooth the oil on for you.’

  ‘Oh, no, you mustn’t . . . it’s quite wrong, and I’m so ugly like this.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ he breathed huskily, ignoring her weakly fluttering hands as he parted the towel to reveal her naked body. ‘I have never seen you looking so lovely--or so very, very desirable.’

  Pouring some of the liquid into his palm, he began to massage the taut skin of her stomach, moving his hands slowly and gently over her flesh. ‘How can you think that I would not wish to see your body, especially when it is ripe and swollen with my child?’ he murmured, rhythmically smoothing the oil over her skin.

  There seemed to be a humming noise in her ears as a lambent warmth coursed through her body. She sighed deeply, incapable of any effort of will or desire to stop his caressing fingers, mindlessly responding to their sensual touch. Cupping her full, ripe breasts in his hands, he lowered his dark head to brush his lips tantalisingly over her taut nipples, Leonie moaning aloud at the thrilling ache deep in her stomach.

  ‘You see?’ he breathed. ‘We are the two halves of one whole. Hate and loathe me as you will, my beloved, but you cannot deny the innate need and desire we have for each other.’

  He was right. However much she wanted to protest and refute his hoarsely whispered words, Leonie realised that she was helpless beneath the erotic mastery of his hands; a soft yet demanding arousal that provoked a quivering, heated response in her traitorous body.

  ‘Badyr . . . no!’ she moaned as he put aside the lotion and swiftly removed his towelling robe.

  ‘Oh, my Leonie . . . yes!’ he muttered thickly, his face a tight mask of desire, the dark eyes glittering with mockery at the lack of conviction in her voice.

  The arms that enfolded her trembling body were hard and warm, his mouth descending to kiss away the hopeless tears which had filled her eyes, before trailing down her cheek to seek the soft hollows at the base of her throat. There was a raw hunger in the hands and lips caressing her soft flesh, a devouring, demanding need that met an answering response. It was as if she was in the grip of a hallucinatory drug, every one of her senses, every nerve-end, screamingly aware of his breath on her skin, the heavy pounding beat of his heart and the black silky hair on his chest brushing against the tips of her breasts. Her body shook with an overwhelming desire that she could not possibly deny, her hands feathering down the long length of his spine and moving over the taut, firm muscles of his hips and thighs.

  A deep groan was wrenched from his throat at her intimate, caressing touch, his figure shaking as he possessed her lips with an urgency that finally swept aside all the barriers between them. Leonie clung blindly to his broad shoulders, totally abandoning herself to the ardour that flared through her body and murmuring soft, incoherent cries of delight as his lips and hands moved over her flesh with scorching intensity; burning and demanding her total surrender.

  ‘My sweet Leonie . . . it has been such a long time . . . such torture! For God’s sake do not deny me, my darling!’ he whispered thickly, the words rasping in his throat, his chest heaving as though it pained him to breathe. ‘I will be gentle and careful, but l cannot resist your lovely body. I must . . . I must have you!’

  Neither the moral values of right and wrong, nor the unhappy past nor the uncertain future seemed to have any meaning for Leonie as she feverishly responded to the overwhelming desire which held them both firmly in its thrall. Here and now, the only reality was the hard warmth and strength of his tanned body, and the almost unbearable ecstasy that raced through her veins. Almost unconscious with delirious excitement, she barely heard the low, deep groans provoked by the wanton abandonment of her response; her soft moans and pleas for fulfilment an irresistible enticement, provoking heated shudders that shook the tanned length of his long body as he strove to maintain his self-control.

  As he had promised, Badyr managed to temper the urgency of his desire, leashing and controlling the force of his own passion as he gently and tenderly led her from one exquisite del
ight to another; the mounting pleasure so prolonged and emotionally intense that she cried out, weeping with joy as he at last brought them both to a soaring high plateau of mutual ecstasy and overwhelming rapture. Thereafter, floating on a hazy cloud of warmth and happiness, Leonie drifted aimlessly down into a deep sleep, aware only of the comfort and security as she lay within Badyr’s encircling arms.

  The sun was pouring into the bedroom when Leonie woke next morning, and she drowsily stretched her languid, satiated body before slowly turning her head to see that she was alone in the middle of the great bed. Her eyes widened with horror and disbelief as she noted the crumpled sheets, the pillow still bearing the imprint of Badyr’s head. Inexorably and relentlessly the events of the previous night flashed through her mind like a reel of film out of control, and with a deep groan of despair she rolled over to bury her head in the pillows.

  Oh God! How. . . how could she? How could she possibly have allowed herself to submit to him? And it was worse than that! Far, far worse! She hadn’t just weakly given in to his amorous demands, had she? Leonie moaned with self-loathing and disgust as she remembered exactly how she had responded, how eagerly and lasciviously she had demanded his possession.