The Sheik and the Slave

“No,” she said as she shook her head.

“I have been waiting a long time for this day, my lovely niece,” he said to her.

“I will tell my father!” she hissed at him.

She hid underneath the blanket, which he quickly stripped away from her beautiful body.

“I will say you bewitched me. Who will believe a little girl over a grown man?” he told her.

She fought him briefly, but she was no match for his strength. Suddenly, when she had given up, her slim thighs were spread apart for him.

“Oh my dear, you are so tight!” he said. He grunted as he went deep within her body.

Safiya cried out, but it was in satisfaction, as her body arched into her uncle’s. Her slim legs were parted wide as her hairy older uncle took his time fucking her. When Khaldun finally climaxed, he pumped his seed deep within his niece’s body. Now they could claim the seed was Mohammed’s and none would be the wiser.

“Cheer up, my little niece,” Khaldun told her as he dressed. “To all the world, you now carry the next Sheik of Arabia in your belly.”

Chapter 19

Penelope ran swiftly down the long, barren hallway. Her heart raced, but she didn’t think twice about her actions. She had to speak to the Mother Superior. She pulled the woolen shawl closer to her small, bony chest. The drafts in Father O’Day’s monastery were chilling and damp. Her bones ached, though she was a young woman.

Father O’Day had separated the novices and the Mother Superior from the rest of the monastery and they had remained separate since their arrival. The trip to Ireland had been uneventful, and the stranger had remained unconscious through it. The Mother Superior had been very worried about her, and all knew the woman was pregnant from her rounded belly.

Father O’Day’s reputation as a godly man and one of medicine was an established fact, and the Mother Superior was very grateful to him for his assistance.

Penelope knocked upon the wooden door once-twice.

“Yes?” asked Mother Superior with a gentle voice.

“Please, Mother Superior. Come at once! The woman has woken and she is upset. No one can understand a word she is saying.”

Abigail sighed and the chair creaked as her weight shifted slightly.

She had been so concerned for her safety during the voyage to Ireland, and once they had arrived, the Father had set to work. He had shocked the women by refusing to bleed Katharine, saying that she needed nourishment and rest.

She followed the novice down the stone hallway and thought again of the girl with delicate features and sunlight hair. She was a lady; of that she was certain. But what had become of her family? Had she made an impudent match and married a brute who turned her out?

Though she wore no ring on her hand, it could easily have been lost or stolen. Maybe she had been separated or taken from her loved one? That seemed a more likely occurrence, as she had arrived at the Abbey in a state of unconsciousness.

Perhaps savage bandits had set upon her, taken her clothes, abused her and left her for dead. Maybe a wicked stepmother had thrown her out, for the young woman’s beauty had overshadowed her own. Abigail chuckled at the last thought, which was pure fairy tale. But perhaps she had been attacked and dumped at her doors.

These questions had plagued her ever since she had discovered the girl bleeding on the front steps of the Abbey. That she had been pregnant and bleeding from between her legs had frightened Abigail immensely. She had managed to stem the blood by stuffing cotton inside the woman but had known that her knowledge was severely limited. Thus, she had written to Father O’Day, whose reputation had grown as a man of medicine.

Once they had settled inside the Irish monastery walls, separate from the men, novices Penelope and Edith and taken turn

s watching over the women while Father O’Day had prescribed bed rest and soothing Chamomile tea.

The Abbess spent her time in prayer and reading to the young woman who had troubled dreams and cried out often. Abigail would pat her hand and murmur to her that all would be well. She prayed for her during this time. The woman had been through much and was now all alone.

“Ma petite,” she called her often.

She thought once that the woman might have been a high-priced mistress who had become pregnant with the man’s child, though she doubted it. She remained certain that someone loved this woman very much and that she had been ripped away from him. She knew she had a romantic heart, but she remain convinced of this as being the truth. She wanted nothing more than to reunite them.

It was a cold night. Abigail moved a shawl closer around her shoulders and gripped the book in her cold hands. The winds seemed to howl through the stone monastery and the chill was almost unbearable. In her own Abbey, she allowed herself the luxury of a fireplace, and she missed it dearly.

When she stopped reading to close her eyes, she set the book on her lap. As she reached for it again, she glanced quickly at the girl lying quietly on the bed. Between her legs, the cotton was stained with dark blood. The book dropped to the floor as she ran to find Father O’Day. She clasped her cross in her hand as she ran down the hallway.

She found Penelope reading the Bible in her small cell and breathlessly said, “Go get Father O’Day. Quickly!”