“No man has ever seen me naked,” Arabella said, her voice high and quavering, like a child’s.
“You are a virgin?”
Arabella’s eyes widened. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I suspected as much. Later the master may have me examine you.”
“What do you mean examine?”
Raj spoke as if to a child. “It is my responsibility to see that any new woman who comes to his highness’s harem is free of disease, my lady. And to determine if she is a virgin.” At her continued puzzled expression, he said sharply, “You are not a little girl, and surely you cannot be so ignorant.”
Arabella finally understood. “I wish to dress now,” she said, not looking at the huge man.
“I have selected clothes for you. Come.”
Minutes later, the white linen cloth still wrapped about her, Arabella said flatly, “I will not wear these veils.”
“Then you wish to go to his
highness with the linen wrapped around you? At least these veils offer you a bit more protection than a towel.”
Arabella swallowed, her eyes flying to his worried face. “What do you mean protection?”
“You are very beautiful, my lady,” he said flatly, “and the master appreciates beautiful women.”
He saw fear in the depths of her dark eyes, yet she squared her shoulders. “He will not touch me, Raj.”
Raj was silent for a long moment. He guessed the minute Kamal saw the English girl, with her beautiful golden hair streaming down her back, clothed only in harem trousers and jacket, he would want her. He shuddered, knowing the girl would fight him. How odd that Kamal’s mother had chosen to claim this girl a whore. Perhaps she had sown the seeds of her own undoing. It was a thought worth pursuing.
He said slowly, with careful emphasis, “It will be largely up to you, my lady. You are unlike the other girls in his highness’s harem. Therein lies your advantage.”
He handed her the flimsy bolero, beautifully embroidered with small seed pearls, and the trousers, fashioned of transparent silk panels of varying shades of blue. He gestured toward a pair of light blue leather slippers.
“Dress yourself, and quickly. His highness wishes to dine with you.”
Chapter 17
Thick early-morning fog swirled across the Bay of Naples, shrouding the sails of the Malek in white. Adam stood on the quarterdeck, straining his eyes toward the receding shore. He felt oddly peaceful now that they were away and there was no turning back, though he knew that his own life could be forfeit for his sister’s. He shook away the thought that perhaps Arabella was already dead. No, he repeated to himself again, Arabella wasn’t meant to be killed, else it would already have been done in Naples. He thought of Rayna and smiled, picturing her hair tousled about her face, her mouth red from his kisses. She had smiled at him bravely when he had taken his leave of her in the garden of her father’s villa, Vincenzo standing silent watch. He ran his hand through his fog-damp hair. He was tired.
“Take your rest now, my lord. There is naught else to be done.”
He turned and nodded to Daniele. “A week,” he said. “A week before we know what has happened to my sister.”
“So you’ll fret and worry instead of—”
“All right,” Adam said.
“The captain has given you his first mate’s cabin. It’s small but comfortable. You’ll not be disturbed there.”
“I will spend enough time in that cursed cabin,” Adam said. “For now, I’ll take my rest on deck.” He eased down on a loop of thick rope and rested his head on his arms, but he did not sleep until Naples was far distant.
“My lord.”
Adam shook himself awake and raised his head to Captain Alvarez, a tall lean man whose bald head was covered with an outmoded white wig.
“You’ve slept the day through, my lord. I thought you would like to refresh yourself before we dine.”
Adam rubbed the stiff muscles at the back of his neck and rose. He shivered, and realized the sun was setting and the chill evening air was permeating his clothes. “I will join you in an hour, sir,” he said. He stared upward at the billowing sails. “We have a good wind.”