He could see Mohammed’s mind had drifted, and Abdullah knew exactly who he was thinking about. Abdullah kept one of the harem women well-stocked with opium and she, in turn, spied for him. She had informed him that the white girl recently sold to the harem was raging a battle with the sheik. She would not share his bed and she had been made a bather by the sheik.
Abdullah loved and respected his sheik and worried about this new intrusion into their way of life. He thought about selling the “Sahera” to another sheik, but that would not be possible. Mohammed would not allow the witch to be sold.
He worried constantly for Mohammed and prayed to Allah to bring him a son from the little minx Yasmeen. But after years of marriage, Yasmeen had only birthed two daughters. In truth, Yasmeen was probably only good for bed sport. She was not overly educated and was certainly not worthy of being the mother of the next sheik. Mohammed must marry again. But how could Abdullah broach such a subject? It was disconcerting. He prayed to Allah for guidance.
“Abdullah, you are my most trusted friend and adviser,” Mohammed said. His dark eyes drifted over to the large, well-built middle aged man in robes.
“I am. And long may you reign well upon this Earth, praise be to Allah,” Abdullah replied. He bowed slightly.
“Thank you, my friend,” Mohammed said sincerely. “I must speak with you upon a matter of great delicacy but much importance.”
Abdullah nodded and moved closer to the man in order to give him his full attention.
“I think the time has come for a second wife,” Mohammed said.
Abdullah began to speak, but Mohammed stopped him by raising a hand.
“Yasmeen has been a dutiful wife. I have no complaints. She has been everything a man could hope for while remaining modest in all other respects. But she has birthed only two daughters and I cannot accept this. I will keep her as the first wife, but I must take a second. Once a young woman has been accepted, I am certain a son will be born.”
“Praise be to Allah,” Abdullah bowed in respect. “I have prayed upon this.”
“I have decided upon my second wife,” Mohammed continued.
Abdullah waited, wondering if perhaps it might be the lovely young princess Amira in the next village; she would come of age shortly.
“I want the young English girl from the harem,” Mohammed said decisively. “I will accept no one else.”
Oh no, Abdullah thought. He watched his friend’s eyes and knew he was serious. No! No one would accept a white girl with skin the color of goat’s curdled milk and from the land of Infidels to be their Queen. No one.
In one moment his prayers had been answered. In the next, everything had turned sour. This could not be.
“My lord,” Abdullah began, but he couldn’t finish. What could he say? This was disastrous. He of all men knew that women had their place and were taken as brides, performed their duties, and had sons. But this? This was not what he expected.
Mohammed nodded. “We will speak of this later. I have much to prepare.”
***
Katharine walked slowly into the bath. It was a large, rectangular-shaped bath with three steps down into it, decorated with coral and brown tiles. There was a seat in the bath that ran the entire length of it. At its deepest, the small pool was five feet.
Mohammed demanded that scent of oud be left burning always in the bath. Candles were lit low and intimate and the room was cool and welcoming.
The water pooled around her legs, then between her legs, and then up to her waist. She had been summoned for her first day of duties.
Mohammed arrived shortly and removed his simple white robe as Katharine quickly averted her eyes. He smiled at this and stepped into the warm water. He sighed with contentment and took a seat as the water enveloped him. She remained standing. He placed his arms along the edges of the small pool and enjoyed the quiet moment.
“What do you want me to do?” Katharine asked softly.
“Bathe me. That is all.” He settled back and she walked to him, the water moving around her. She picked up the small Luf sea sponge and dipped it into the water. Then, she swallowed lightly and moved toward him.
She moved to the side of him, kept her eyes above the water, and looked around the room. They were no servants about and she thought that odd.
His back was large and he was the color of light nutmeg. She moved the sponge along his broad back, arms and neck. He kept his arms along the rim of the pool as she performed her work. She moved to his chest and saw his darker nipples. She moved the sponge across his chest, blushing as she did.
Mohammed watched her face so intently as she touched his body and saw her blush pink, which spread across her cheeks. She pulled her hair back and leaned across to sponge the front of his arms, forearms, wrists and hands.
She looked up at him expectantly and asked, “What else do I wash?”
“All of me, princess,” he answered.