‘What a waste that would be, Tarn,’ Sarin said softly, as he beckoned to the Nubian slaves. ‘Confine this one in the room I’ve had prepared.’
Chapter Seven
THE CLOTHES THAT Rianna had brought with her from Harn were all deemed unsuitable for her new position and packed away in cedarwood chests. In future, Rianna would wear the opulent garments provided by Lord Sarin. They were all beautiful, fashioned from silks and satins in every colour of the rainbow. However, Rianna was troubled by the scanty nature of the garments. It appeared that all the ladies of the court walked around half-clothed, in a state that would have been considered indecent in Harn.
Jenna, like the other maidservants, now wore a tight black bodice that left her arms, upper breasts and midriff bare, and a silky skirt edged at the hem with elaborate embroidery.
Rianna’s garments were similar; a tight-fitting silver bodice which left her breasts barely covered, a silver girdle set with precious stones, and a full skirt made out of layers of silver gauze. Rianna’s midriff was also bare, and to her embarrassment, Yasmin insisted on her wearing a diamond the size of her thumbnail in her belly button. As she moved it caught the light, shimmering enticingly.
‘Come, it is time,’ said Yasmin as she wrapped a deep pink satin cloak around Rianna’s shoulders. ‘Lord Sarin’s quarters are close by.’
As they walked along the wide corridor, Rianna’s sandalled feet made no sound on the smooth marble floor. Ahead were the beaten copper doors leading to Lord Sarin’s apartment, guarded by two soldiers holding sabres.
A musky cloud of perfume surrounded Rianna which had been applied to her body before she had dressed. The maids had painted her eyelids and ringed her eyes with kohl, but her hair had been left loose as befitting a maiden.
The stony-faced soldiers did not move a muscle as Yasmin pushed open the doors. Rianna stepped nervously inside, automatically turning to look at Yasmin for a smile of support, but realising with a jolt of unease that her new-found friend had disappeared.
Lord Sarin was awaiting her, looking splendidly regal in violet silk trousers and a richly embroidered deep purple tunic. His long dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck and he wore diamond studs in his ears.
‘My lord.’ She sank into a low curtsey, her knees shaking slightly.
‘Rianna, your beauty astounds me.’ Sarin helped her to her feet, divested her of her cloak, and led her towards a velvet-covered divan.
Rianna had been feeling strangely languid ever since she arrived here. She felt overcome by the sensuality of this exotic palace and the man who ruled it. The silver fabric of her bodice rubbed teasingly against her nipples, while her gauze skirts brushed tantalisingly against her denuded sex. She sat down next to Sarin, suppressing a nervous shiver as he lifted her hand to his cool lips.
Gently Sarin turned her hand over and examined her palm. ‘I see a life full of warmth and joy,’ he said softly. ‘All that you are lies in the lines of your hand. Fate led you to me, Rianna.’
He kissed her exposed palm, his lips lingering on the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. Rianna trembled. Sarin smelt of lemons and verbena, sharp yet sweet. She felt a gentle breeze from the open window brush her cheek and catch stray strands of her hair. In the distance she could hear the eerie call of the peacocks that roamed the palace gardens.
Entranced by the feel of Sarin’s hands caressing her body, Rianna trembled on the edge of some erotic dream, a step away from reality. Her senses swam; time had no meaning. Sarin whispered something sensual in her ear, but she couldn’t quite make out the words.
Meshing his fingers in her hair, Sarin stroked the nape of her neck, trailing his hands downwards to stroke her shoulders and the curve of her bosom. ‘How pale your skin is, how green your eyes,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll have a necklace of emeralds fashioned to drape over these sweet breasts.’
Rianna floated on a cloud of bliss, sighing with pleasure as her bodice was eased apart so that Sarin could caress her breasts. He pulled and teased her nipples, watching the tiny teats surge into life.
‘So pretty. Nubbins like berries, sweet and entrancing,’ he purred as he bent his head and took one between his lips, mouthing it expertly until she gave a pleading moan. ‘Your clothing should be designed to reveal these sweet teats.’
Rianna coloured, regaining some control over her over-heightened senses. ‘I could not,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It would not be proper.’
‘Only in the privacy of my quarters, sweet Rianna,’ he assured her. ‘Now let me look at your denuded pudenda.’
‘We are not yet wed,’ she replied as he began to pull aside her skirt.
‘Tomorrow, in the late afternoon the ceremony will take place. I’ll soon be your husband. Do not deny me what you’ve already shown my Chancellor. Lesand assures me your sex is quite entrancing.’
His words almost took her breath away. She disliked the thought of Lesand and Sarin speaking in such intimate terms about her body. Yet it was not in her power to deny Sarin anything, except for her heart of course. That belonged to Tarn and no one else.
‘As you wish, my lord.’ Her cheeks flushed as he moved the silver skirt to around her waist and stared down at her denuded sex. When she tried to pull her legs together, he eased them apart. ‘Yasmin likens your pudenda to cream with a swirl of sweet red fruit at its centre,’ Sarin said, his voice thick with desire.
Did everyone in this palace discuss her in such intimate detail, she wondered anxiously, as she coloured even more.
At first Sarin didn’t touch her, he just stared at her sex while continuing to tease and tweak her nipples. Running his hand over the soft planes of her belly, he stroked the curve of her pubis. Rianna’s sex lips still felt full and heavy, and moisture started to flood her divide. The desire she had experienced in the hammam reignited. Unconsciously she spread her thighs wider, lifting her hips up towards Sarin.
‘I think you will please me well in bed,’ Sarin remarked as his fingers slid inside the sensitive valley to gauge how moist she was already. ‘One touch and your body prepares itself for my intrusion. I’ll be counting the hours until we are wed.’
To her surprise, he pulled down her skirt and rose to his feet. Rianna meanwhile took an unsteady breath, realising how easily she had denied her feelings for Tarn, just by responding to Sarin’s caresses. The sensual desires Tarn had aroused within her would not be easily quelled.
‘Have I displeased you?’ she asked Sarin as he stepped away from her.
‘Indeed not,’ he smiled at her. ‘You please me greatly, Rianna. Your innocence excites me.’ He lifted his fingers, still covered with the dew of her body, to his lips. ‘Your honeyed flesh tastes so sweet.’ Watching Rianna’s cheeks turn a hot pink, he added, ‘You look tired, my dear. It is time you retired.’
Jenna glanced nervously behind her as she heard the sound of footsteps. The wide corridor was silent and empty, pools of shadow lining its edges. She shivered. There were so many corridors and rooms in this huge palace it was easy to lose one’s bearings. Next time, she vowed, she would ask Mircon to escort her at least part of the way.
Their long evening of lovemaking had left her feeling tired and languid. Rather than endure a long walk along endless, empty corridors, she decided to take a short cut across the gardens. Turning left, she stepped through an archway, crossed the narrow path and began to walk across the springy grass. She could see the outline of palm trees, silhouetted against the star-spattered sky, swaying gently in the breeze.
Jenna was in such a hurry she almost walked into the dark figure of a man. She gave a squeak of surprise. ‘Sir, you startled me,’ Jenna said nervously.
The bright moonlight enabled her to make out his features, and she saw he was young and good-looking.
‘These gardens are out of bounds to slaves after dusk,’ he told her curtly.
‘I am no slave,’ she protested. ‘I’m maidservant to the Lady of Harn.’
‘You are Lady Rianna�
�s maid?’ he asked with interest.
‘I am honoured to serve Lady Rianna,’ she said proudly. ‘My name is Jenna.’
‘You travelled with her from Harn?’ He moved closer, smiling in a friendly manner.
‘Yes, sir.’ She nodded, thinking him most handsome and well-spoken.
‘I hear your mistress is as kind and tender-hearted as she is beautiful?’
‘I can attest to that, sir. At home, in Harn, she often spent her days tending the sick and helping those less fortunate.’
‘Did she not tend the wounds of the traitor, Tarn of Kabra?’ he questioned.
‘She did,’ Jenna confirmed. ‘But only at Chancellor Lesand’s behest. He feared for the prisoner’s life and there was nothing more the military surgeon could do for him.’
‘So it was she who saved the traitorous swine,’ he hissed.
‘Lady Rianna believes all life sacred,’ Jenna replied hotly. ‘Now I should leave, sir. My lady will be wondering where I am.’
‘Wait.’ He grabbed hold of her arm.
‘Please unhand me, sir,’ she said agitatedly. ‘I have to go.’
‘You will leave when I say you can,’ he growled, his pleasant demeanour vanishing.
Jenna struggled to get away from him, but the nobleman dug his fingers into her arm. As he wrenched her cloak from her shoulders, the fragile lacing of her bodice parted and her breasts broke free.
His eyes fastened on the full globes. Pulling Jenna closer, he roughly stroked her bosom, squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers. ‘Please leave me be,’ Jenna begged, frightened but excited by the crude caresses.
‘I’m a close friend of Lord Sarin, and of noble blood, while you are but a lowly maidservant,’ he said thickly as he pulled her to the ground. ‘You should be honoured that I even show an interest in you, wench. If you know what’s good for you, Jenna, you’ll welcome my attentions.’
Jenna froze. This man was not unattractive, quite the contrary, and she knew her place in the order of things. For Mircon’s sake she had no wish to anger someone close to Lord Sarin.
‘That’s better,’ he smiled as she ceased her struggles. ‘It’s a while since I took a wench like this. A hasty coupling will be most pleasurable. I find the cloying attentions of the women here less than stimulating.’
Jenna wondered if he would reward her, as she needed a goodly sum if she and Mircon were to wed. She adored her soldier lover, but sometimes she daydreamed about a stolen sexual interlude with a handsome stranger. Mircon would never know, she thought as she lay back on the soft grass.
The stranger lifted her skirts. ‘How I’ve longed for this,’ he grunted as he saw the thick brown curls of her pubis. ‘I’ve become weary of soft, scented, hairless women, growing lazy and indolent in their luxury. A lusty wench is just what I need.’
Jerking open his breeches, he pulled out his penis. It was already erect, and of a splendid size. Jenna’s eyes widened and her belly grew hot with lust. His cock was longer and much thicker than her soldier lover’s. She could feel the remnants of Mircon’s semen still sticking to her thighs, increasing the musky odour of her sex.
The nobleman ran his hands through her fleece. Without preamble he grabbed hold of her hips and thrust into her, heedless of causing her any discomfort, but Jenna was wet and ready. She sighed with bliss as his magnificent organ slid deep inside her feminine sheath.
Leaning forward, he buried his face in her full breasts, pulling one teat deep into his mouth. All the while he thrust into her, grinding his pelvis roughly against hers. The onslaught was swift and harsh. In no time at all Jenna was moaning loudly, having reached the point of no return. As he grazed her nipple with his teeth and thrust even harder, the pulsing pleasure swept Jenna over the summit and into the dark abyss.
With a grunt of satisfaction, the stranger reached his climax, spilling his seed while digging his teeth into her breast. Pain and pleasure combined into a myriad of wonderful sensations, leaving Jenna exhausted and replete.
The stranger rose to his feet, readjusted his clothing and looked down at her. ‘Here.’ He tossed two gold coins on to her belly. ‘I look forward to our next meeting,’ he said with a salacious grin. Then he turned and was soon swallowed up in the dark shadows of the garden.
Yasmin waited in silence as the hunched old woman examined the elaborate henna patterns on the backs of Rianna’s hands, similar decorations covering her feet. Smiling toothlessly, the old crone inclined her head at Yasmin and Rianna before walking slowly from the room.
‘She likes to oversee her slave’s handiwork. Her eyes are too bad, her hands too shaky to do it herself. It is said she has served the Lords of Percheron for nigh on sixty years,’ Yasmin explained. She turned to the other servants. ‘Leave now.’
Rianna wore her wedding gown: a bodice and skirt of scarlet silk covered by a long sleeved robe of cloth-of-gold. Her hair was loose as befitting a bride, but her long red-gold locks were entwined with strands of emeralds worth a king’s ransom. They were part of her wedding gifts from Sarin.
‘Do you have the bladder in place?’ Yasmin asked once they were alone.
Rianna nodded anxiously. ‘Are you certain it will work?’
‘Of course it will,’ Yasmin assured her. ‘It would have been far more difficult if Lord Sarin had not accepted Chancellor Lesand’s advice, and decided to deflower you himself. Lord Sarin has bedded a number of virgins, and it is likely he would have realised you were trying to deceive him.’
Chancellor Lesand, in Rianna’s best interest, had persuaded Sarin to revive the ancient ceremony of the ritual of deflowerment. It had been a common custom among the nobility for centuries in Percheron, but Sarin’s grandfather had declined to carry on the custom. During the ceremony, the bride’s virginity was taken by a silver phallus, and the witnesses to the ritual were the bridegroom and his concubines.
Rianna now knew that the women in the bath house were members of Sarin’s seraglio. Some he kept purely for his own pleasure, but the less important concubines he was happy to share with his friends.
Yasmin had resided in the seraglio since the tender age of fourteen. She came from a land far across the sea, where women were considered mere chattels. Her father, a merchant, had owed Sarin a great amount of money and had offered his youngest daughter in place of the debt. Sarin had refused, bringing shame to Yasmin and her family, until Chancellor Lesand had intervened and persuaded the Lord of Percheron to change his mind.
‘You’re sure the bladder will burst at the right moment,’ Rianna pressed, knowing that if she did not produce visible proof of her virginity Sarin might investigate and discover the truth. She feared more for Tarn than herself, still not having any idea of his fate.
‘It will burst, the blood will flow and all will believe you to be a virgin.’ Yasmin kissed her cheek. ‘You owe a great debt to the Chancellor, Rianna, just as I do.’ She handed her friend a small vial of clear liquid. ‘Now drink this. It’s a mild mixture of valerian and other herbs which will help you relax. The marriage ceremony is long and wearisome. I don’t want you worrying all the time about what will happen at the deflowerment.’
Rianna remembered little of the marriage ceremony. She sat on a dais, her head and face covered by a silk veil, her breathing choked by the overpowering smell of incense, enveloped in a happy haze of euphoria.
Gifts were heaped in front of her. At one point Lord Sarin moved to sit beside her, and lifted her veil to kiss her cheek. She knew he spoke but she had no idea what he said, as she was still overcome by the relaxing potion Yasmin had given her.
Eventually, as her conscious mind began to find its way though the haze, she felt Sarin remove her veil and help her to her feet. Rianna almost stumbled as her legs were stiff from sitting cross-legged for so long. She heard the sound of music, and saw slaves move forward to serve food and drink to the many guests.
‘Soon you will be mine completely,’ Sarin whispered in her ear as he led her into an adjoin
ing room.
The air in the other room was bereft of the choking incense and far cooler. Rianna was unsure why there were so many women gathered here. Something was about to happen, but the valerian potion Yasmin had given her still muddled her thoughts.
Sarin led her to a dais on which stood a table covered with a white cloth. Yasmin was waiting for them. She smiled encouragingly at Rianna and took hold of her hand.
‘Let the ceremony begin,’ Sarin said, moving off the dais.
‘This will all be finished soon,’ Yasmin said.
At last, Rianna began to recall why she was here. Paling visibly, she glanced nervously at the expectant female audience, then back at Yasmin.
‘I had hoped the potion would dull your senses for a while longer,’ Yasmin said with concern. ‘Be brave, Rianna, and remember why this has to be done. Now you must ready yourself for the brief ceremony. Lie down on the table.’
Rianna climbed on to the hard table and lay back, trying to hide her apprehension. She hoped their deception would work, and Sarin would be convinced she was still a virgin. Yet even now, as this troubling time, she did not regret giving her innocence to Tarn.
‘When the moment comes, bend your knees, as it will make the entrance easier,’ Yasmin said as she looped silken ropes around Rianna’s ankles. ‘I’ve left the ropes long enough to afford you movement.’
As Yasmin moved away to take part in the blessing of the phallus, which preceded the taking of Rianna’s virginity, a familiar female figure leant over Rianna. ‘Niska!’ she gasped in surprise.
Niska gave an evil smile. ‘As Sarin’s wife, I have claimed the right to wield the ritual phallus myself. Have you seen the object? It is magnificent,’ she gloated. ‘With a splendid girth and length. I almost envy you Rianna, yet I think still prefer hard male flesh for myself.’
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