‘Your disguise has been successful?’ she asked.
‘Very,’ Tobias provided, gazing with a warm intensity at his cabin boy-girl. ‘Although she passes as a somewhat pretty boy, let me assure you that she makes more than a passable girl.’
‘I can see that is so now,’ Fatima agreed, leaning back on the mound of silken cushions to study the girl, making a quick appraisal of her heart-shaped face and wing-swept eyebrows above beautiful blue-green eyes. ‘It is a terrible shame that you had to cut your hair to compound your disguise, but it does not detract from your looks. I can see you are very beautiful. Oh, child, if you were to dress as a woman, all the men would be in love with you at a glance.’
‘But I am not interested in such things. All I want is to find my sister, and to do that I must maintain my disguise—even though I am beginning to tire of it.’
Fatima thought for a moment, her face undergoing various transformations. At last it settled into a most cunning and pleased expression. Her gaze went from her husband to Tobias and her dark eyes gleamed. ‘I have an idea.’
‘You usually do, my love,’ Ahmed said, wary of the machinations of his senior wife’s mind. He had no doubt that he would soon discover the source of her sly look.
‘Rowena says she has to maintain her disguise—this I understand, since she has to live with all those men on the ship—but nothing prevents her from staying here while you are in Algiers, Tobias. I am sure you could come up with something that would explain her absence—and,’ she said, her eyes dancing wickedly, ‘I am sure you could find someone else to perform her duties as your cabin boy.’
Rowena saw Tobias and realised in one giddy instant of silent laughter that Fatima might well believe she was Tobias’s woman.
Fatima smiled encouragingly at Rowena. ‘Do say you will stay with us. It would give us great pleasure to have you as our guest—and to spoil you for a little while.’
Looking at the tall exotic woman and seeing gentleness and kindness in the depths of her dark eyes, Rowena found her friendliness contagious and could not help smiling. She felt the breath of madness touch her face. In an instant her heart had decided. ‘I would love to stay,’ she exclaimed, a happy look on her face. She looked at Tobias, certain he would have no reason to object, but when she saw the look on his face she was not so sure. She saw indecision flicker across his hard features; thinking he was about to refuse, she tried to soften him by going to him and placing her hand on his arm.
Tobias glanced down at the slender fingers. Heat was seeping through his flesh, desire already stirring inside him—and that with only her hand upon his arm. He didn’t understand why she had such a volatile effect on him, but he understood that he wanted her—willing and warm in his arms. He’d got used to having her close to him, day after day, knowing she was sleeping in her cabin next to his own night after night, and he would miss her like hell when she wasn’t there.
‘Please, Tobias,’ she said, mistaking his silence for refusal, ‘I would like to stay here—if just for tonight. What harm can it do?’
Seeing his friend’s dilemma, Ahmed came to her rescue. ‘Come, Tobias, she will enjoy staying in my house with my wives to pamper her.’ He saw how the girl’s eyes lit up, hopeful and expectant. ‘Think, my friend. Does she not yearn for the company of women after being incarcerated for Allah knows how long on a ship full of men?’
‘Ahmed,’ Rowena said softly, ‘you are very kind.’
‘Kindness has nothing to do with it,’ said Ahmed. ‘Tobias knows that I am an aesthete in love with beauty and harmony. When I think of a woman like you having to travel wearing the clothes of a youth on board a vessel with a motley crew, my skin shivers. So, if you do not want to condemn me to a lifetime’s remorse, you will honour my house by remaining for a few days.’ He laughed loudly, slapping Tobias good naturedly on the back. ‘I might even take her unto me to be my fourth wife—to even things up a little among my other wives, you understand.’ His white teeth flashed in the black mass of his beard. ‘I think she would serve me well.’
‘Forget it,’ Tobias told him sternly, but with a slow grin. ‘Do not strain the bonds of friendship beyond what you already have, Ahmed.’
‘Ah, I see that would not please you, my friend. It is heartily sorry I am if my suggestion causes you dismay.’
A trace of humour played across Tobias’s lips as he looked directly at Rowena, who was watching him expectantly, although his words when he spoke brought a dangerous blaze to her eyes. ‘More like absolute terror at the thought.’
‘You think I would do her harm?’
‘Not for a minute, Ahmed. It is you I’m thinking of. I am only trying to save you from a dire fate. Rowena happens to be the most mercurial, wilful firebrand you could ever wish to meet, and she has a tongue that could flay the skin off a man’s back. I would not wish her on my worst enemy, let alone a trusted friend.’
‘Then she is a rare jewel.’ Ahmed laughed, a great booming sound. ‘A woman after my own heart.’
Tobias gave him a mocking grin. ‘So are most women, Ahmed. I knew Rowena would be no exception, and wondered how long it would take you to see through her disguise—although I have to say I was surprised it took you so long.’
Ahmed winked knowingly and leaned towards Tobias, his words meant for his ears alone. ‘You want her for yourself, that I can see, and it’s not right that her beauty inflame other eyes than yours, eh?’ He laughed into his friend’s glower. ‘Don’t be a fool. See what you have, my friend. Her beauty is a treasure beyond all price.’ He winked again into the blue eyes as they rose to meet his. ‘Should your business tomorrow take longer than you expect, I—and my beautiful wives—will do our utmost to entertain her.’
‘Then I will simply have to make sure it doesn’t.’
Ahmed gave him a hearty slap on the back. ‘Go back to your ship, Tobias, and sleep easy. Rest assured that your young charge will be safe in my house. Besides,’ he retorted, seeing where his two young wives’ gazes were directed. ‘I like not the way my three strumpets devour you with their eyes, for it bodes ill for me.’
* * *
When Tobias had left to return to the ship, Rowena went with Ahmed’s wives along a passage to a gold-and-blue mosaic chamber that she soon discovered was a bath-house. The ceiling was domed, and in the centre of the floor, surrounded by slender pillars, was a tiled, large sunken bath in which water was steaming.
Rowena gasped, her eyes alight with excitement, never having imagined there could be so much luxury in one house. Towels were to hand, while all around were vials of oils and soaps.
‘Why, this is very fine,’ she exclaimed, delighted. ‘We have nothing like this at home in England—not even in the best houses. It looks so tempting and pleasurable.’
‘With enough luxury for a person to wallow in for as long as they wish.’ Fatima led her to the edge of the tub.
Shilla and Zidana were chattering excitedly in Arabic, and before Rowena could protest they were undressing her as if it were the most natural thing to do. There was a great deal of giggling as her bindings were unwound, and when they tried to remove them, alarmed, Rowena put up her hands to stop them, trying to hold on to her modesty, but the more she protested the louder they laughed. Standing back they began to undress themselves to show it was quite natural in the world they inhabited to bathe together in the nude.
They slipped into the scented water, beckoning for her to join them, their slender gleaming bodies as supple as snakes as they writhed in the pool. Deciding to throw caution and all her inhibitions to the wind and to give herself up the slow tempo of this life, Rowena began to relax and finished undressing swiftly. Squeals and gasps of admiration were drawn from the three wives when her pale slender body was revealed.
‘You are the loveliest thing,’ Fatima enthused. ‘Such a face—and such a milky skin. You are quite perfect, Rowena.’
Laughing delightedly, Rowena slipped gracefully into the pool where she readil
y abandoned herself quite passively to the ministering of the two younger wives’ gentle hands.
A smile on her lips, Fatima sat on a low stool at the side of the pool, content to watch as Zidana washed her hair while Shilla soaped her all over.
Wallowing pleasurably, feeling the water about her like a caress, Rowena was astonished at the strange sense of well-being that spread through every part of her body. When she stepped out, Fatima was waiting with a thick cotton towel to dry her, before taking her to a divan where she began to massage her body with hands that were amazingly gentle, rubbing in a strangely pungent oil that relaxed her muscles and gave her skin a soft patina.
She relaxed and, spreading her arms, opened her eyes and gazed at the ceiling, at the colourful designs with a picture in the centre, of stars and a moon representing the heavens, and a golden sun in the middle. Pressing her eyes shut, she held her breath to hold on to the pleasurable sensation. Her body seemed to have broken all its earthly moorings. She was like a puppet now, moving to the strings that pulled her, only her brain functioning slowly as her body was ministered to as never before.
Beneath the massaging boldness of Fatima’s hands—Fatima had the air of a priestess carrying out some ancient ritual—she was honest enough to admit her treacherous woman’s body was coming breathlessly alive, not even against her will, and what she felt was not unlike what she had felt when she had been with Tobias on the beach. What she was experiencing now was very similar—magical, sensual, erotic—and all that was missing was Tobias.
She sighed with contentment. ‘You use such wonderful scents, Fatima. Not only do you educate my palate with delicious food, but my nose also,’ she murmured, as Fatima proceeded to apply more oil to her skin. The air in the bathing chamber was warm and thick and redolent of perfume, not flower-like, but compounded of ambergris and musk—intoxicating and languid, artful weapons to entrap a man. That she should think such things just then did not surprise her, for Tobias still occupied her mind.
‘Where did you learn to speak English?’ she asked as Fatima massaged her calf.
‘My mother was Irish from County Cork. She taught me. Like your sister, she was taken by the corsairs when they raided her village. She was just thirteen. She was bought and placed in the harem of a wealthy Moor in Morocco, where I was born.’
‘Did she ever return to Ireland?’
‘No. She remained a slave until she died, but she had no wish to go home. She came from a poor family, so there was no question of a ransom. She came to like the life in the harem with the other women. The Moor—my father—was good to his women. My mother, who had known nothing but hunger and poverty at home, had never known such luxury as there was in the harem.’
‘But she was still a slave, Fatima.’ Rowena was tempted to say that in her opinion slavery was brutal and devoid of any moral scruple, that these people had once been masters of their own destinies before they had been taken against their will and put through their paces in the slave markets of Barbary. Not wishing to give offence, she held her tongue and said, ‘And you married Ahmed.’
Fatima’s full lips stretched in a broad smile. ‘My father sold me to him. Ahmed is a good man—not only rich, but an influential man in Algiers and in the towns along the coast, because he builds such fine ships.’
‘And you don’t mind that he has two more wives?’
She shrugged. ‘No. Here it is accepted. One wife or three—what does it matter? I am his first wife so I am the important one, and my eldest son, Ishmael, is Ahmed’s heir.’
* * *
Bathed, scented and draped in a flowing white tunic and feeling more feminine than she had ever felt in her life before, Rowena stood back for the three wives to inspect their handiwork.
Fatima beamed broadly, well satisfied. ‘Tobias will not be able to resist you when he sees you out of those unflattering boy’s clothes. He is like Ahmed in many ways, honourable, noble and trustworthy, as well as handsome—all the things I cherish in a man—and I have observed he is protective of you. You are a long way from England and have plenty of time to be together, so it will be interesting to see what happens between the two of you.’
Rowena merely smiled and let the matter rest. She spent the rest of the evening lounging on a divan in conversation with Fatima and nibbling on delicious sweetmeats, before being shown to a room of sumptuous luxury, where she slept the night away like a babe.
* * *
Tobias arrived after dark on the second night. Ahmed was at his boat yard down at the docks, so he went into the garden to await Rowena.
Rowena was bathing—her experience in the bathing chamber had had a magnetic effect on her and she couldn’t resist repeating the experience whenever the fancy took her. The weather was so hot she welcomed the feel of the cool, heavenly water swirling over her body, soothing away her impatience to see Tobias, which had been growing ever since he had left her.
After two days she found herself transformed. The comfortable, indolent life at Ahmed’s house, the rich food, the leisurely strolls in the flower-scented garden, and all the dexterous attention of Ahmed’s three wives had worked wonders. Her body felt supple and soft, her skin bloomed, and, as Fatima said, was as fine textured as a flower petal. They dressed her in strange, exotic costumes. Her fingers had never caressed such gorgeous silk, and some of the fabrics were so fine as to be almost shockingly transparent. The costumes were not as restricting as the ones she was used to, and she took pleasure in wearing them.
The air was heavy with perfume and disturbed by the rhythmic sound of cicadas. Drinking in the fragrant tranquillity, Tobias walked slowly along a walkway covered in delicate flower-decked trellis. The night was glorious—an African night, the sky dark blue and rich with stars that glittered softly, pricking the surface of the sea with little phospherent wavelets.
From the house, Rowena took a moment to observe him, admiring the fine figure he made. A white shirt, opened at the throat and ruffled at the cuffs, contrasted sharply with his bronze skin, and his lean, muscular build was accentuated by the close-fitting breeches and white stockings. He was bare headed, and his dark hair was tied back at the nape.
Although he moved with almost sensuous grace, there was a sureness in his stride as he walked, as if he carefully planned where each foot would fall. He appeared relaxed and at ease, but there was a quiet alertness in his manner, and Rowena sensed he was aware of everything that transpired around him. She was impatient to see him, mainly because she wanted to know if he had discovered anything about Jane, but there was a small treacherous part of her that told her she wanted to see him for herself.
Stepping out on to the terrace, she was between Tobias and the light, so that her body was outlined through her thin robe. The many scents of the garden—the sweetness of jasmine and the fragrance of fruiting orange and lemon trees and beneficial herbs—leaped up to meet her, filling her head, as though she had been handed a bouquet of flowers.
‘Tobias?’
Her familiar voice rose above the sounds of the night. Tobias did not realise how much he had missed her until he heard it, or how the sight of her warmed his heart—and it had only been forty-eight hours since he had left her. She was coming towards him, her robe drifting and outlining her slender form with her movements, her slippered feet making no sound. His admiring gaze took in her fashionable toilette, lingering on the gold and jewels adorning her neck and wrists, and Rowena felt herself grow hot with embarrassment.
For a moment Tobias felt as if she had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. And then he blinked and shook off his strange abstractions.
‘Good Lord!’ A slow smile of admiration swept across his face as he beheld the lovely young woman. Her dark glossy hair, reflecting the light, was a cap of shining curls.
The dark liquid of his eyes deepened as he became caught up in the warmth of her presence and she read in his face such evident desire that heat flamed for a moment in her cheeks. ‘Yes, Tobias? What is it
?’
She moved closer still, and though the light was dim he could perceive her lovely face, more serene than he had ever seen it. ‘What was in that wine Fatima has just plied me with? A philtre to rouse the blood?’
‘And has it?’
‘What?’
‘Roused your blood?’
‘It’s definitely affected.’ Taking her hand, he raised her fingers to his lips, enjoying the scent and taste of her. When he looked at her there was a twinkle in her eyes. ‘You look like some eastern nymph.’
‘I thought you would never come.’
‘Does that mean you have missed me, Rowena?’
‘I thought you might be otherwise occupied,’ she prevaricated. ‘That you must be too busy with matters on board your ship to get away to see me.’
‘Nothing could ever be as important as coming here to see how you are,’ he said blandly, and he meant it.
Perhaps it was the magic of the night, the warmth and subtle floral scents, or her need to be close to him, but whatever the cause, Rowena’s heart doubled its pace.
In a voice like rough velvet, he said, ‘You are beautiful. Where has my cabin boy gone, I wonder?’
Mesmerised, Rowena stared into his fathomless dark eyes, while his deep, husky voice caressed her, pulling her further under his spell.
‘The colour of your robe suits you,’ he murmured softly.
‘It’s sea green. Fatima chose it. She says it is the same colour as my eyes.’
‘It is well chosen. How do you like living in a Muslim household?’
‘It’s so far removed from anything I have ever known or could have imagined. I have been made to feel very welcome—so much so that I have serious doubts I shall ever be able to leave.’ Suddenly, mischievously, she smiled and cocked her head sideways as she looked up at him. ‘Would you embrace Islam, Tobias?’
He stared at her. ‘Why?’
‘Because then you, too, could have three wives.’
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