The Sheik and the Slave

“I don’t think so. I was merely being polite, as was he.”

Anne nodded.

“Of course. Polite? As you were with your Arab lover,” she continued.

Katharine blushed.

“Mother, you do not know of which you speak.”

“Perhaps. But I think I know enough of men and women to know when a man is taken with a woman. I saw it in his eyes. Thomas is smitten with you.”

“Well, that’s as maybe. But my heart lies elsewhere,” Katharine said.

“Yes. With the Arab you love and who wishes to marry you.”

“Yes, Mother. Father has told me he came to see him and asked for me.”

“Yes, my dear. But now that you have spread your legs and given him your virtue, where is he now?”

Katharine swallowed, the vulgar words painful to her.

“He-he will come for me.”

“Yes, dear. I’m sure he will,” Anne said. She smiled condescendingly and left Kat alone with her thoughts.

***

Charles and Thomas were alone in the billiards room.

“Charles, I hardly remember your sister as being half so beautiful. Now she seems a goddess among men,” Thomas said.

Charles laughed as he made a shot.

“Come, we’re playing. Your turn.”

Thomas took his turn and remarked again, “She has returned home, I understand, from an ordeal. I hope she was not injured in any way.”

“No indeed, she has been returned to us safe,” Charles said as he took his shot.

“That is good, I am happy for the Lady and your family,” Thomas replied.

In his mind, he saw the Katharine’s blonde hair framing a delicate face and fine bone structure. What a beautiful woman!

Charles had excused himself to speak to his father and Thomas left the billiards room and moved to the conservatory. The room was full of light and air during the day, and Lord Edward had used it to cultivate lemons, oranges, and other exotic flowers that needed the warmth of the room.

A large cream sofa sat next to the orange trees and their blossoms perfumed the air. Katharine sat on the sofa alone and crying.

Her mother had been horrid to her, and the words she’d used were degrading. Kat had given herself to Mohammed, this was true. But she had loved him and knew he loved her. Her mother made their love seem dirty. She knew from Abigail that Anne never visited her grandson. She felt the pain acutely. Her tears fell down her cheeks.

Thomas had stepped inside the conservatory, remembering years ago that they grabbed and pulled the precious lemons and oranges from the trees and got a strict reprimand from Lord Edward when this was discovered. He had still been kind, but told them never to take the fruit again unless they asked permission.

He saw the outline of a figure on the sofa and was about to move away when he heard the sob.

“Lady Katharine,” he said softly and came toward her.

She looked startled as Thomas came upon her and she tried to dry her eyes.

“Thomas,” she spoke.