by Robin Schone
“So be it.” He briefly inclined his head and shoulders in a half-bow. “I give you my word as a man of the East and the West that I will not touch your body.”
Impossibly, her spine stiffened even more; it was accompanied by the creak of her corset. “I am sure you understand that our lessons must be kept in the strictest of confidence ….”
Ramiel was struck by the irony of English etiquette. She blackmailed him yet expected him to be a gentleman and remain discreet about her indiscretion.
“The Arab people have a word for a man who speaks of what goes on in privacy between himself and a woman. It is called siba, and it is forbidden. I assure you that under no circumstances will I compromise you.”
Her mouth tightened into what the English so aptly termed a stiff upper lip. Clearly, she did not trust the concept of Arab honor. “Good day, Lord Safyre.
He bowed his head. “Ma’a e-salemma, Mrs. Petre. I am sure you know your way out.”
Elizabeth Petre’s retreat was marked by a harsh swish of wool and a sharp click of the library door opening then closing. Ramiel stared at the swirling yellow fog outside the bay windows and wondered how she had traveled to his house. Hack? Her own carriage?
Hack, he would guess. She fully realized the danger should their liaison be discovered.
“El Ibn.”
Ramiel’s stomach clenched.
The son.
He was the Bastard Sheikh. He was Lord Safyre. And he was El Ibn. The son … who had failed. Never again would he bear the title of Ramiel ibn Sheikh Safyre—Ramiel, son of Sheikh Safyre.
He turned, body tensed as it had not been the past thirty minutes.
Muhamed wore a turban, a man’s baggy trousers and thobs, a loose, ankle-length shirt. He had been with Ramiel for twenty-six years. A gift from Ramiel’s father, a eunuch to protect the bastard son of a sheikh who at the age of twelve had failed to protect himself. And had done no better at the age of twenty-nine.
He reached inside his dress coat and retrieved the card tucked away there. An address was printed in the lower right-hand corner in ornate script.
“Follow Elizabeth Petre, Muhamed, to make sure that she doesn’t get into any more trouble than she already has.”
Ramiel’s expression hardened.
A man like the Chancellor of the Exchequer married moral women to bear his children—he would not relish his wife performing those sexual acts he sought from his mistress. Ramiel had been exiled from his father’s country; he had no desire to be exiled from the country of his mother. If trouble accrued from this tutelage, he would have to be prepared.
“When she is safely inside, surveil the house. Follow her husband. I want to know who his mistress is, where he meets her, when he meets her, and how long their association has been going on.”
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Copyright © 2000 Robin Schone
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First electronic edition: April 2014
ISBN: 978-1-61773-274-4
ISBN-10: 1-61773-274-5