Sheik

by Mason, Connie

  Jamal returned to Paradise in the worst of moods. He hadn’t been able to run down Youssef. The man was craftier than a fox. He seemed to know every hiding place in the Rif mountains and used them to his advantage. After three days of combing arid land and towering mountains, Jamal decided to return to Paradise.

  To Jamal’s chagrin, it was the promise of Zara’s sweet body that lured him back home. At least he hoped it was merely her body he wanted. He must not forget that Zara had used him. She was deceitful and sly. But Allah help him, he still wanted her.

  Haroun hurried to meet Jamal when he spied the sheik riding through the gates. “Welcome home, Jamal. Was Allah kind to you? Did you find Youssef?”

  Jamal gave a snort of disgust. “The man is like a chameleon; he changes colors to blend into his surroundings. Once again he has escaped me.”

  Haroun frowned. “The sultan will not be pleased. Have you reported to him yet?”

  “Nay, I was anxious to return home. Did you follow my orders concerning the prisoners?”

  “Aye, they will be sold at the next slave auction. Kadeem el Haka was well pleased. Healthy males are in high demand. As for the woman—”

  Jamal went still, his mind refusing to accept the implication of Haroun’s words. “What woman? You were ordered to leave the women and children behind.”

  Haroun’s dark face assumed a puzzled look. Was Jamal toying with him? A thought that did not bear entertaining entered his mind. “The women and children were left behind, my lord. All but one.”

  Haroun watched the color drain from Jamal’s swarthy features and he stepped back in alarm. Allah help him! What had he done?

  “Zara! Where is Zara?” Jamal’s voice held a note of terror. And something else. Something that sent fear racing through Haroun.

  “Forgive me if I have done wrong, my lord. You said to take Zara away and I did as you asked. Zara and the Blue Men were sold to the slave master in Fez.”

  “Allah curse you!” Jamal cried, shaking his fist at Haroun. “It was never my intention to sell Zara. You were to bring her here to await my return.”

  Haroun fell to his knees, his arms raised in supplication. He’d never borne the brunt of Jamal’s temper but had witnessed the punishment of those who displeased him. “You spoke of selling Zara. I assumed it was what you wished. The Berber wench deserved to be punished for drugging you, and I thought you wanted to be rid of her. I had no way of knowing you jested, that you still wanted her. Forgive me, my lord.”

  Jamal stared at Haroun, his anger fearsome to behold. Zara was gone. Her sweet body and lush lips were no longer his to kiss and caress. A new master would own her, a man who would never appreciate her passion as he did. He had nurtured that passion, cultivated and sustained it by giving her unparalleled rapture.

  Struggling for control, Jamal asked, “When is the auction to be held? For your sake, I pray it hasn’t already taken place.”

  Haroun swallowed convulsively. “Tomorrow, my lord. The slave auction is held on market day, which is Thursday.”

  Jamal spit out a curse. “That doesn’t leave me much time to reach Fez. Go to the village and purchase a racing camel from the camel trader. Camels have more stamina than any of my Arabian horses. They can endure a fast pace for prolonged periods and require less water. Hurry, Haroun. I wish to leave within the hour.”

  Haroun rushed to follow Jamal’s orders. His horse was nearby and he leaped into the saddle and galloped through the gate toward the village. He found Rashid the camel trader with little difficulty.

  “Quickly, I wish to purchase your fastest racing camel for Sheik Jamal,” Haroun said, pulling a bag of money from his belt. “Name your price.”

  “Does the sheik intend a long journey?” Rashid asked shrewdly. He knew that Jamal had gone in search of Zara and Youssef and returned empty-handed. His spies had brought word of Jamal’s return even as Jamal was speaking with his lieutenant.

  “You ask too many questions. Just choose the camel and name the price.”

  “If a long journey is intended, then this camel will do,” Rashid said, pointing to a rangy animal resting nearby. “But if ’tis speed the sheik requires, then I would recommend a different type animal.”

  “Speed, man, speed. The sheik needs to reach Fez as swiftly as possible. I have done a terrible thing. I took his favorite to the slave market and now he wants her back.”

  “Ah, you speak of the slave Zara, do you not?”

  Realizing he had spoken out of turn, Haroun said, “’tis of no consequence. Which camel do you recommend?”

  “This one for speed.” Rashid picked up the leading reins of a sleek, dun-colored animal and handed it to Haroun, naming an outrageous price.

  Haroun muttered to himself as he counted out the money. “You drive a hard bargain. If I wasn’t in a hurry I would haggle, but Jamal is waiting and I have already incurred his anger.”

  Haroun mounted his horse and rode off with the camel in tow. Rashid waited until he was gone before calling to his assistant to take over. Then he selected another camel, an animal every bit as fast as the one he’d sold to Haroun, and sped away from the oasis.

  Jamal rode like the wind. He traveled alone, racing toward Fez as if the Devil were chasing him. He rode until darkness and the mountainous terrain made it too dangerous to continue. He stopped and lay down beside the camel, snatching a few hours’ sleep, till the light of dawn allowed him to carry on. Fez was still a long way off, and he beseeched Allah to let him reach Zara in time.

  Zara wasn’t the first slave to be led to the slave block. Kadeem was saving her for last. She had been bathed and dressed in provocative clothing. Transparent pantaloons hugged her hips, then flared out and clasped her ankles with jeweled bands. The short silk jacket barely covered her breasts, baring her entire midriff. Her nipples had been rouged and were clearly visible beneath the thin material. More of her anatomy was revealed than concealed, and she trembled with fury at being made the object of men’s lust.

  Zara watched from a holding area as the men were led out and sold first. Then it was the women’s turn to be offered for sale. With growing horror Zara saw prospective buyers come forward to inspect the women intimately, stroking their breasts, testing the texture and smoothness of their flesh, touching them in places that brought raucous laughter from the men and titters from the women. The physical inspection was embarrassing and utterly demeaning.

  Most of the women were ordered to remove their clothing, to pose nude before their would-be masters. Some didn’t seem to mind, turning their bodies in ways that showed them to the best advantage. Those women were quickly sold amid brisk bidding and carted off by their new masters. A fair crowd still remained when Zara was finally brought forth.

  Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the crowd as Zara took her place on the slave block. Her blank expression gave no hint of her terror as she stared straight ahead, making eye contact with no one.

  “Show us her breasts!” a man in the front of the crowd demanded.

  Kadeem stepped in front of Zara, ready to snatch away the meager scrap of material covering her breasts. But the fierce look in her eyes momentarily stayed his hand. He did not note the direction of Zara’s gaze.

  Zara was staring at the curved knife Kadeem wore at his waist. As the slave master stepped in front of her, blocking her from view, she acted instinctively, without regard for the consequences. Her hand moved so quickly, Kadeem didn’t realize she had freed his blade until he felt it pressing against his groin. He froze, his eyes locking with Zara’s, and guessed from her determined expression that the fierce Berber wouldn’t hesitate to emasculate him.

  His worst fears were confirmed when Zara snarled, “Touch me, Arab pig, and I’ll slice off your balls and stuff them in your mouth.”

  Kadeem began to sweat profusely. “What do you hope to accomplish by this? Cut me and my men will slay you where you stand.”

  “I will have the satisfaction of knowing that you will nev
er use that foul thing between your legs again.” The blade pricked him through his clothing and Kadeem squealed.

  “What are you waiting for, Kadeem?” the man in front shouted. “Bare her breasts for us.”

  “Decide fast, Kadeem,” Zara hissed. “Leave my clothing intact or suffer the bite of the knife where it will hurt you the most. I refuse to be humiliated before these foul pigs who call themselves men.”

  Kadeem decided to back off. Making a scene now would cost him dearly, both in profit and pride. Should she humiliate him before his best customers, she would never bring the price he expected.

  “I will leave your clothing intact if you will remove the blade and slip it back in its rightful place. I swear this on Allah’s grave.”

  Zara hesitated but a moment before replacing Kadeem’s knife. She didn’t want to die, and she surely would if she harmed Kadeem. Once the blade rode comfortably at his waist, Kadeem turned to the crowd and said, “It is best to leave something to the imagination. It will serve to whet your appetites for the tempestuous Zara. Look at her, men. Is she not delectable? Her breasts are high and full. Her nipples are like ripe cherries. If you look closely you can see her mound through her pantaloons. I guarantee that it is plump, pink and will sheath the mightiest sword.”

  Zara kept her eyes focused on the cloudless sky as the men strained forward to catch a glimpse of the various body parts Kadeem had described. Kadeem had truly captured their fancy. Zara hissed as Kadeem turned her around and patted her bottom.

  Kadeem ignored her. “Are these not sweet? Like perfect twin moons, round and succulent.” He squeezed with both hands.

  Zara made a strangled sound deep in her throat and Kadeem’s hands fell away. “Who will start the bidding?”

  “Is she a virgin?” asked an obese bearded man dressed in flowing white robes and turban.

  “Zara is not a virgin, my friend, but something better. Her previous owner trained her himself. She is proficient in all manner of love play and guaranteed to satisfy the most jaded of men. You will not be disappointed.”

  His words set off a round of bidding that was fierce and competitive. The price doubled and redoubled, until only three men in the crowd were rich enough to participate in the lively auction. Then the white-robed man in the back made a bid so outrageously high that it shut out the remaining two bidders.

  “The prize goes to Sheik Sidi Bennaur,” Kadeem announced grandly. “The price was high, but I’m sure he will find the beauteous Zara well worth it.”

  Sidi Bennaur came forward with mincing steps. A half-grown boy with the face of an angel trotted behind him. He waved a plump hand in Kadeem’s face. “You know my preferences, Kadeem, and it’s not for women with lush curves.” Absently he patted the boy’s blond head. “Boys like Azzi are more to my tastes. Once in a while I’ll attempt a woman, but she must be as slim and sleek as a boy for me to enjoy her.”

  Zara stared at Sidi Bennaur with distaste. Not only was he perverted but freely admitted it. She pitied the poor children forced to submit to his depraved tastes.

  “The woman is a gift for a friend who has done me a great service. Ali ben Baha has an enormous appetite for women, but unfortunately he tires of them quickly. Pray Allah my gift pleases him, for she has cost me a small fortune. Are you sure she is experienced in bed sport, Kadeem? I would hate to send my friend inferior goods.”

  “I was told that her previous master taught her to both give and receive erotic pleasure. Your friend will thank you for the gift.”

  Zara fumed in impotent rage. They were speaking over and through her as if she were mute and blind.

  “Should she displease him, Sheik Ali ben Baha will give her to his stable master, a man known for his perverse appetites.”

  A commotion caught Zara’s attention and she watched in dismay as a man rode through the marketplace, scattering people and beasts of burden who dared to get in his way. Unerringly he headed toward the slave block. Zara swayed with shock when she recognized Jamal, racing toward her atop a sleek camel.

  Jamal spied Zara immediately. She wasn’t hard to spot in the nearly empty slave market. She was lovelier than the moon and stars, and he feasted upon the sight of her. Then he realized the implication of the empty slave market and his heart sank. He was too late. Allah help him! He skidded to a halt before the slave block, threw his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground, bracing himself for the jolt when his feet hit the dirt.

  “Am I too late for the auction?” Jamal asked, though he already knew the answer. With a knowing glance he sized up Sidi Bennaur, marking him as a man who did not enjoy women.

  “The auction is over, my friend,” Kadeem said. “Zara was the last to be sold. She is now the property of Sheik Sidi Bennaur.”

  Jamal forced himself to speak calmly despite his racing heart. “I will double the bid.”

  Kadeem recognized an opportunity to increase his profit when he saw one. He was acquainted with Sheik Jamal from previous dealings. Haroun had told him that Zara had been Jamal’s slave. “It is up to Sidi Bennaur whether or not to sell her to you. If he chooses to give her up, I, of course, will take a broker’s share for the resale.”

  Jamal turned his dark scrutiny on Sidi Bennaur. Jamal’s hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, the only outward sign of his inner turmoil. “Of what use is the woman to you, Sidi Bennaur? I understand young boys are more to your taste.”

  Zara inhaled sharply, still in a state of shock over Jamal’s unexpected appearance. Why would Jamal wish to buy her when she had been sent to the slave market by his order? Nothing made sense.

  Sidi Bennaur waved a fat beringed hand in the air, dismissing Jamal’s words with a scowl. “’Tis no concern of yours what I do with the slave. She is mine now. I do not wish to sell her.”

  “I find this strange, my lord,” Kadeem said. “Why did you instruct your man Haroun to sell the woman if you still wanted her?”

  Jamal turned his gaze to Zara. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but something within those unfathomable depths spoke to her of strong emotions. She blinked, fearing her eyes were deceiving her. When she looked again into Jamal’s eyes they had turned murky.

  His voice was fierce as he explained, “Selling Zara was a mistake. Haroun misunderstood my orders. Zara was to be taken to my palace to await my return. It was the Blue Men who were to be sold.”

  “What say you, Sidi Bennaur? Will you sell the woman to Sheik Jamal and make both of us a tidy profit?” Kadeem asked. His eyes glittered with anticipation, so great was his greed.

  Sidi Bennaur made a pretense of considering Kadeem’s offer as he stroked his chin with one hand and caressed the young boy standing meekly at his side with the other hand. At length he said, “I have not changed my mind. My great good friend, Ali ben Baha, is a connoisseur of women and ever eager for new female flesh. He makes his home at the edge of the desert near Er Rachidia. The beauteous Zara will be outfitted like a queen and sent by caravan to Ali.”

  “I will pay three times what you paid for Zara.” Jamal’s voice was brash and demanding.

  He did not intimidate the effeminate Sidi Bennaur in the least. Bennaur was a cruel and perverse man. He would have denied Jamal’s request no matter what Jamal offered, simply because it pleased him to do so.

  “I refuse your offer, Sheik Jamal,” Sidi Bennaur said with a sniff. He motioned to Zara. “Come along, lady, you will stay at my home until I can arrange for a caravan to take you to your new master.”

  “Ali ben Baha will find me to be a difficult slave,” Zara declared, finally finding her voice. “I am defiant and disobedient. I am proud and haughty and refuse to submit willingly to a man not of my own choosing. I am Zara, daughter of Youssef, the Berber cadi. The first time Ali touches me I will slit his gullet.”

  Sidi Bennaur gathered his robes around him, recoiling in shock. He glared at Jamal. “I understand now why you sold the woman. I hope you had her beaten regularly. Ali ben Baha is just the man to
teach her obedience. He is not a patient man. If she refuses to curb her tongue he will cut it out.”

  Sidi Bennaur clapped his hands and two burly men appeared at his side. “Seize the woman!” Bennaur ordered. “Take her to my home and guard her well.”

  Jamal wanted to launch himself at Bennaur’s men and tear Zara away from them, but he knew he had no legal right. Bennaur had purchased and paid for her, and there was nothing he could do as long as the man refused to give her up. He forced himself to pretend indifference. Zara was truly lost to him.

  “I wish Ali ben Baha joy of the Berber vixen,” Jamal said with forced joviality. “I’ve grown rather fond of my throat. Having it slit while I am sleeping does not appeal to me. I realize now that selling the slave was a wise move on my part.” Zara had no idea he spoke out of despair and resignation.

  “Most prudent,” Kadeem agreed, recalling how Zara had threatened the most delicate part of his anatomy with his own blade.

  Zara sent Jamal a look of pure frustration. His appearance here just didn’t make sense. Why had he traveled all this way to buy her back if he felt that way about her? Had sending her to the slave market truly been a mistake?

  Jamal read the bewilderment on Zara’s face but could do nothing about it. He had lost her. Soon she would belong to another, warming to his caresses, begging for his kisses. Jamal had no choice but to return home and forget that Zara had ever existed. He turned to leave, seeing no point in remaining. He had done a terrible thing to Zara, though the fault did not lie entirely with him. Losing her cut deeply into the part of his heart he’d always kept free of involvement.

  “How could you, Jamal?” Zara cried as Bennaur’s men dragged her away.

  Jamal turned to look at her, his dark eyes bleak with despair. Their gazes locked, and he felt a terrible jolt in the vicinity of his heart. The look they shared was one of pain.

  Of betrayal.

  Of heartbreak.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jamal paced the carpeted floors of his chamber, his mood as foul as his temper. He’d returned home from Fez immediately after Zara was taken away by Sidi Bennaur’s men. Three days had passed. Three days in which the emptiness of the palace and silent women’s quarters produced a kind of loneliness Jamal had never experienced before. During those three endless days and nights Jamal wavered between riding to Zara’s rescue and forgetting her.