English did not lend itself to such phrases. It was Moorish which slid sweet and caressing from the tongue, expressing as much in its soft intonation as in the words themselves. Almost against her will, Julia felt the hard knot of anguish somewhere in the region of her heart begin to dissolve.
“I have yearned for you, O purest of pleasures, as the Muslims for the moon of Ramadan which ends a month of fasting with a feast. My fast has lasted more than two long years. Must my hunger for you ever go unappeased?”
A shiver ran over Julia, half reaction, half a response to the tenderness of his voice. Against her will, she recognized the truth in his words. “How can I take comfort from someone who has brought me so much grief?” she whispered.
“I have brought you no grief, Julia. You brought it to yourself when you left your safe woman’s place in New Orleans. But, knowing it would come, would you have stayed behind and missed all else as well as the grief?”
Missed the excitement of the Bonaparte cause, the wonders of sailing the seas, missed coming face to face with Napoleon, or knowing that wise man Mehemet Dey? Through her mind ran, unbidden, the singing joy of the love she had made with Rud once, an endless age ago, somewhere between Rio de Janeiro and the equator, a gentle, unending possession. Slowly, she shook her head.
“Then, what use is there in repining? This moment is ours. We are promised no other.” His eyes burned with the blue fire of his desire, and yet, they were watchful as he lowered his head to take her lips.
Warm, tentative, his kiss offered no more and no less than the solace he had suggested. And yet, there was a faint trembling in his arms, as though he held himself in check by only the most stringent effort of will. He touched his mouth to her eyelids, following the salt path of her tears, tracing the curving of her cheek and chin back to her moist, parted lips.
He shifted his weight from her. As she made no move to leave him, or to evade his caresses, he smoothed the palm of his hand down the tender turning of her neck to her shoulder. Curve by curve, he traced the outlines of her body like a poor man assuring himself that the valuable coin he has lost has been found again. If her barracan hindered him, he gave no sign, but lowered his head to press his lips to the curves of her breast through its sheer transparency.
Julia put her hand on the corded woolen scarf which covered his head. Her skin felt branded where his lips had touched, and beneath the depression of fading anger which weighted her, she knew a quickening.
“Forgive and be merciful, Julia, as you were merciful that day in the courtyard when you lied to save me. Don’t force me to take you against your will; for I must have you though I regret it all my days.”
Forgive? Hadn’t she done that, given him her benediction with a lie on that day of which he spoke? What need had she to deny it now? I would have asked for my wife to be returned to me if only I could — Curiously, she believed him. His pride was of that caliber. Once an action was taken he would not disavow it.
She drew a deep breath of air into her lungs, then let it out in a slow sigh with the last vestiges of her bitter anger. Her movements deliberate, she removed the woolen scarf and pushed her fingers through the crisp waves of his hair. “Love me, then,” she whispered, “for I have been so alone.”
With patient hands and many small caresses, he removed her barracan and beaded bodice, and unfastened her girdle. While he undressed, she kicked her slippers off and slipped from her pantaloons. His chest was like sculptured mahogany, a strange contrast still to the paleness of his lower limbs, though there was wooden hardness there also. His long hair and curling beard gave him an odd aspect, at once foreign and familiar, pagan and Christian, an aspect unchanged by the silvery words with which he wooed her as they lay upon the couch.
“Your hair has captured the bright glory of the sun and stolen the most fragrant perfumes of Araby,” he said as he buried his face in the silken mass. “Your skin shimmers like pearls from the depths of the ocean, and yet, it is soft and welcoming. Breasts like sweet, sun-warmed melons tempt my lips, and I am enthralled by the smooth planes, the gentle roundness and gilded shadows of belly and thighs.” Where his fancy wandered, his hands followed. “Will I feel your sting, O Keeper of the Honey,” he whispered, “if I borrow a taste of your sweet nectar?”
On a crest of wanton tenderness, he entered her. With a wild and measureless rhythm, they moved together, scaling thunderous heights of pleasure. Clasped breast to breast, they soared into a soft darkness exploding with unbearable wonder.
19
“Baraka,” Rud whispered as, still molded together, they lay with panting breath. He drew the hair from across her face and placed a kiss between her eyes, and they were quiet until their frantic heartbeats steadied.
“Hungry?” Rud asked after a time.
Was she hungry? She had taken only a few dates and a handful of almonds since a light breakfast more than fourteen hours ago. “I could eat,” she replied, her tone droll.
Rud stirred, then heaved himself up. Pulling on his pantaloons, he called for Isabel. When she came, he gave the order for food to be served. With downcast eyes and a sorrowful countenance, the girl appeared not to notice Julia upon the couch, covered only by Rud’s woolen cloak. She accepted the command without apparent reluctance and went away to do his bidding.
With her going, a sense of strain invaded the room. Julia found herself unable to raise her eyes from the fastening of the cloak that lay across her. She smoothed the wool beneath her fingers. “What — what will happen now?” she asked at last.
“If you mean with us, we will eat, bathe, and sleep, letting tomorrow take care of itself. If you speak of the new regime, let us hope that Kemal will be captured so that Ali Dey can rule in peace. He is a young and vigorous leader who, if he is allowed to do it, can steer his country out of the dark ages into the nineteenth century.”
“And, if Kemal is not captured?”
“More fighting, a divided country, an uneasy rule and broken sleep for Ali Dey.”
“And, you? What will you do?”
“What I have been doing all along. I will act as military adviser and nonpartisan observer for Ali until such time as he no longer has need of my services and will grant me leave to return to England.”
At the bleak tone of his voice, Julia looked up at last. “They say you improved the ships of the Algerian navy and designed a ship of magical swiftness which, when I saw it from the palace window, had the look to me of a Baltimore clipper. Doesn’t it trouble you that these innovations may be used against England and her allies?”
“It does,” he admitted, moving to the window casement of the chamber, which looked out onto the inevitable garden. There was nothing to be seen in the darkness, but he breathed deep of the night air. “It does, despite the fact that the improvements I made still leave the Algerian ships considerably inferior to British shipping. As for the Baltimore clipper design, so far none has sailed her other than myself, and for reasons that may or may not be obvious, I have concentrated on England’s ancient enemy across the channel. What weakens France must strengthen England. In addition, it has come to my attention that the French consul here is attempting to solidify the French position in Africa by the installation of puppet rulers such as Kemal, a situation that would be unacceptable to England. Tripoli and Morocco, as well as Algiers, are targets.”
“I have not seen Marcel for some time,” Julia said, remembering Jawharah’s hints that he might be involved in this conspiracy.
“No, it appears he may have made a voyage to France for instructions on how to proceed in this part of the world. I’m sure he did not expect the old dey to die in his absence. It is said he expects to return with money to buy troops. If he had been on hand to succor Kemal in these last days, the battle this morning might have gone differently. Kemal was a fool to go forward without his presence.”
Julia sat up. The woolen cloak slipped down into her lap, but she did not notice. “That is one of several hints I have heard
expressed that the journey of Mehemet Dey to paradise was hastened by poison. Do you think it is true?”
“It would not be surprising. It is a common practice in the east for succession to the throne to be cleared by what we would call drastic means.”
“It is rumored that Basim, the dwarf who served the old dey, was arrested for the crime of putting poisoned dates before his master. This I cannot believe. His loyalty to the dey was unquestionable; he certainly had no liking for Kemal. Doesn’t it seem to you that Kemal must have had him arrested as a scapegoat?”
“That is always a possibility,” Rud replied, turning at the intensity of her tone to stare at her with a query in his eyes.
“Basim was kind to me, more solicitous of my feelings than he was required to be. I am sure he would never harm anything, much less the man he served and loved. He enjoyed his position in his own way, the prestige and power that went with it, and he was proud that Mehemet Dey considered him not only the source of much good magic, but a trusted friend and confidant. It is ridiculous to think he would endanger all this for the sake of mere money, even if he could have brought himself to do the deed. Isn’t there something you can do to help him?”
“It’s possible that I could speak to Ali, if it means so much to you. You realize it may be too late?”
“Yes, I know,” she whispered.
It was only later, when a steaming platter of rice and lamb had been set before them, that she remembered Basim had once held the key to her escape. Did he still have it in his hand? Did it matter?
While they ate, Julia and Rud talked, closing a few of the gaps in their knowledge of each other, and the things that had happened to each of them, in the past years. It was difficult at first, like trying against natural reticence to reveal one’s private self to a stranger, though toward the end of the meal it came easier.
Rud dipped his hands into the perfumed water of the bowl set between them and dried his fingers on a linen cloth. Gathering his feet under him, he pushed away from the low table laden with food scraps and stood. He stretched hugely, looking down at Julia with a smile. He put out his hand. “To the bath now, with a handmaiden in attendance,” he said. “I choose you, O Jullanar of the golden hair.”
“Handmaiden?” Julia asked with a lifted brow.
“I am inviting you to share my bath,” he explained patiently. “Of course, if you would rather wait until I am done and more water is heated—”
The prospect of a bath sounded like heaven. This was one more thing there had been no time to enjoy before the audience with Ali Dey. “I suppose you will want me to scrub you?”
“A charming notion, not at all what I am accustomed to.”
“Not even from your precious Isabel?”
“I had to deny her that pleasure, since I prefer a little more water in my tub and a little less maiden.”
“Most men are not so choosy.”
“Most men are not married to a vixen who once knifed an importunate suitor.”
“Does she truly have no attraction for you?” Julia persisted.
“I am not a seducer of girls of fifteen, an age nearly young enough to be my daughter. Why do you ask — unless you are jealous?”
“Jealous? I?” She scrambled to her feet unaided. Elaborately casual, she looked around for her pantaloons and bodice and pulled them on, fastening the girdle with an unnecessarily firm jerk.
“Logically, you have no reason to be, but I find that with you logic does not always serve. Why are you doing that? You are just going to undress again.”
“Am I? Yes, of course,” she answered herself, and at once, began to do so. “Have you really not had a woman since our last night aboard the Sea Jade?”
“There are few opportunities offered to a slave, especially one who spends most of his time at sea.”
“There was Isabel,” Julia pointed out.
“She does not excite me, being at once reminiscent of you in her coloring, and yet, a constant reminder of how far all women fall below the standard you set in beauty of face and form.”
In the act of flinging his cloak around her nakedness, Julia turned to stare at him. “Rud,” she began uncertainly.
Reaching out, he drew the edges of the cloak together under her chin. “Come now, doesn’t such flattery deserve at least a back scrubbing?” he teased, and smiled as he saw disappointment replace the doubt in her face.
The hot scented water was languorously soothing. In the large, pool-like tub, there was more than enough room for Julia and Rud together. She washed his back with a loofah sponge and a great deal of vigor. He scrubbed hers with tender care, though he seemed much concerned in searching for a secure hold to keep her soap-slippery body from eluding his grasp. At the same time, he complained loudly that her twisting and turning did not help. The result of such play was inevitable. Though of an experimental nature, it was also extremely satisfying, helped along by the buoyance of the water, and the lighthearted glee with which they approached it.
That night, naked in Rud’s arms beneath a woolen coverlet lined with silk, Julia slept as she had not in countless ages of time. Toward dawn, she was awakened to passion once more, coming straight from oblivion to the swift, escalating beat of devouring possession. In the sated aftermath, she slept once more, and she did not awake until the sun had reached its zenith overhead.
She opened her eyes. The chamber in which she lay had ocher-colored walls, decorated about the door openings and window casement with tiles. The polished marble floors were covered with rugs and animal skins. One of the skins was the tawny pelt of a lioness. In the garden beyond the window, birds called, and she could hear the cooing of doves. It was cool in the room, but not unbearably so. There was only one thing wrong. She was alone on the couch. The place beside her had long lost its warmth. Rud had been gone for some time.
Rising, Julia donned the clothing she had worn the night before, since she lacked any other. She combed her hair with her fingers as best she might, and left the sleeping chamber in search of Isabel.
She found the girl in a small back room of the apartments beyond the empty servants’ quarters. She was crouched over a charcoal fire which burned in an oven like embrasure in the wall. She was surrounded by a collection of pots and bowls from which rose a dozen savory aromas.
At the sight of Julia, Isabel leaped to her feet. “My Lady Jullanar! You should have summoned me.”
Her round face was puffy, as if she had been crying, and yet, if she bore Julia a grudge, it did not show on her tear-stained countenance. The title of respect with which she had addressed Julia came naturally to her lips. Julia was forced to wonder if it was an indication of the span of years that separated her from the young girl, or the results of Rud’s instructions.
“Perhaps, I will another time, if you don’t mind,” Julia answered. “For now, could I have a few cakes and fruit as a morning repast?”
“You must have more than that, my lady. If you will return to the gulphor of the master, I will bring an array of dishes to tempt your palate.”
“You are most kind,” Julia answered.
Isabel slanted a quick look over the costume Julia wore. “Your box from the harem of the old dey has arrived. If you would care to see it, it is in the gulphor. Later, after you have eaten, I will call another servant to help me place it where you would wish.”
“Thank you.” Julia recognized from the girl’s manner that she would not appreciate an offer of assistance. Until now, Isabel had considered Rud’s household her own province. This was not the time to challenge it. Julia did as had been suggested.
The afternoon advanced by slow degrees, and still Rud did not return. Isabel, when applied to, merely shook her head with a look of surprise in her eyes, amazed that Julia could even expect that Rud might confide his intentions to a mere slave girl. With stolid acceptance of the vagaries of males, Isabel busied herself preparing for her master’s homecoming.
Julia had no such outlet for her energy. Aft
er she had changed her gold costume for one of turquoise, she had nothing to do except sit and examine her bruises and think of the day and night behind her and what had happened.
Clouds gathered overhead at dusk. A northwesterly wind began to blow, bringing with it the salt smell of the sea and the acrid darkness of old smoke from yesterday’s burned-out buildings. Donning a burnoose, Julia walked out into the garden. With her head thrown back, she stood staring up at the sky. High above were vultures riding the currents of wind, searching for carrion. They seemed to linger above the palace. Julia permitted herself to wonder what had become of the bodies of Mehemet Dey and the men who had been killed the day before.
The paths here in the garden of this new set of rooms were of stone, not mosaic. The fountain, though there was grace in its carved stone basin, did not work. The pool into which it fell was barely half full of water. Beneath the scummed surface, the water lilies were dormant, the fish hidden under the floating islands of fallen leaves. Rain, the remorseless, chill, gray rain of winter, drove her back inside.
The lamps had been lighted against the sudden onslaught of darkness that came with the pouring rain. Julia was sitting in the yellow glow of one which swung from the ceiling, trying to read, when a knock fell on the entrance door. Isabel, hurriedly adjusting her veil and muttering something under her breath about the need of a male attendant, ran to open the panels.
At the sight of the person, the girl ushered into the gulphor, Julia sprang to her feet. “Basim,” she cried, her voice ringing with gladness.
“My Lady Jullanar,” he said, salaaming profoundly, though his face remained solemn. “I trust I see you well?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “And, you?”
A grimace crossed his features, and he flicked a disparaging look at his feet. Only then did Julia notice that beneath his baggy pantaloons, which nearly touched the floor, his feet were bound. “I do not walk so well as yet,” Basim said, “but I will live.”
Love and Adventure Collection - Part 1 (Love and Adventure Boxed Sets) Page 38