Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

“His highness did not touch you,” Raj said, eyeing her.

“No, I would not allow him to.”

Raj shook his bald head. “If he had wished to take you, my lady, there would be no one to stop him. You least of all.”

“I angered him.”

“And it got you nothing, save bruised and numb wrists.”

“He cannot kill me,” she said. “You know that he cannot. My father is not a fool.”

“No, your father is anything but a fool, my lady.”

Arabella looked at him sharply. “You know my father?”

“No, but I have seen him, and you, my lady, with your black eyes and eyebrows, have the look of him.” He saw that she would question him further and said abruptly, “No, my lady. I encourage you to accept your fate. There is nothing else you can do.”

My fate. Was her fate to be raped by that animal Kamal? To lie in his bed until he had her father? And her mother?

Arabella looked up to see Lena, her brow furrowed with concern.

“See to your mistress,” Raj said, and left them.

Lena rubbed Arabella’s wrists with a soothing cream and bandaged them, clucking over her while she ate her breakfast of soft, flat pita bread, fresh oranges, and pomegranate juice. She spent the next hours in the bath, and her hair was again washed, her body massaged with a jasmine cream. She was scarce aware of the chattering Lena or the harem girls who drew close to see her. Did Adam know what had happened to her? If he did know, what would he do? She shot a deadly smile toward a beautiful oleander tree. She hoped he would draw and quarter the contessa.

After a lunch of cold shrimp and rice, Lena left her alone to nap. To Arabella’s surprise, sleep came quickly, but her dreams were violen

t and steeped in darkness.

She awoke heavy-eyed and frightened. She forced herself to leave her small chamber and stroll into the harem garden. The fragrance from the flowers soothed her somewhat, and she lay down in the sun near the pool.

“Well, daughter of a witch.”

Arabella opened her eyes and smiled up at Elena.

“I hear you are such a bitch that the master tied you to his bed.”

“That is correct.”

“He will ask for me tonight, and you will stay in your chamber and rot.”

“I hope that he will ask for you, Elena. I would like to be left to rot.”

Elena eyed the English girl in frustration. Would nothing pierce her white hide? She could not believe that the girl did not want the master. Every girl in the harem wanted to gain his attention. “Where did you learn to speak Italian? You are English.”

“I grew up in Genoa. At least, I spent about half of each year there.”

“Ah,” Elena said suddenly, her beautiful mouth curving into a vicious smile. “I understand you now, English cow. You know that the master can have any woman he wishes. You are only pretending that you do not want him.”

“Elena,” Arabella said patiently, sitting up, “do you not want to be free? Do you not want to make your own decisions? Decide your own fate?”

“What do you mean?” Elena asked, her voice heavy with suspicion.

“I mean that no one—man or woman—should be forced to serve another. It is not right.” Arabella looked around at the beautiful gardens and the graceful arched building. A calm, serene prison, but a prison nonetheless. “This is your world. It is quite small, you know. And it is even guarded.”

“You are crazy,” Elena said. “When the master takes me to wive, I will have you killed.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

Arabella stared after her for a moment, then lay back and closed her eyes against the afternoon sun.