Climax of Passion
The black eyes focused on him with nerve-tingling intensity. ‘Why did you do that?’ The voice gave no indication of approval or criticism.
The question spread uncertainty through Kozim’s mind. ‘I wondered if a rare jewel might be found.’
The fingers tapped again. ‘Did you find any jewels, Kozim?’
‘No, Your Excellency.’
‘Don’t bother doing that again.’
‘Of course not,’ Kozim said miserably. ‘Most unfortunate.’
‘The geologist’s daughter requires attention, Kozim.’
‘I thought it would come to this,’ Kozim said quickly. ‘Will I block payment of the bills?’
Xa Shiraq’s mouth curled sardonically. ‘No. Mocca has an extensive family. It behoves us to give an occasional boon to such people. From such matters, legends are born.’
Kozim blinked. It was extraordinary how Xa Shiraq knew everything. Even the least significant of his people in Alcabab did not escape his attention.
‘Fire must be fought with fire,’ came the grim announcement.
‘That’s so wise,’ Kozim hurried to agree.
‘The woman has gone too far.’
‘Women always do.’
‘Entombing people goes beyond good-natured fun.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘It calls for the most severe retribution.’
Kozim had some expertise in the field of retribution. ‘Beheading was a favorite device of the British monarchy for many centuries. Henry the Eighth had a certain natural flair...’
‘I need worse,’ Xa Shiraq growled. His fingers tapped a particularly strong rhythm.
‘The unspeakable or the unmentionable?’ Kozim asked. ‘Which do you prefer?’
‘Both!’ Xa Shiraq said decisively. ‘She should suffer both!’
‘Wise,’ said Kozim. ‘You are not only esteemed, respected and loved for the qualities of mercy and justice, but, oh, so very wise.’
Kozim glanced quickly at Xa Shiraq. The deadly resolve in those all-knowing black eyes made him shudder. Once more he reflected how glad he was that he was not the geologist’s daughter.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AS SOON as the helicopter landed in the palace grounds a swarm of women came forward to help Amanda. They lifted her into a richly ornate sedan chair that could have been commissioned by an empress of Rome. Although she welcomed the softly piled comfort of silk and satin cushions after the rigours she had been through, it was a painful reminder that the man she had left behind had nothing but cold, hard stone to lie on.
No-one would listen to anything she said. The women were as deaf as the Berber men to her pleas, to logical argument, to any compassionate understanding of the situation. They were unswervingly persistent in following their own schedule and Amanda simply didn’t have the strength to resist the ministrations that followed her arrival in what had to be the sheikh’s harem.
She was stripped with gentle but firm efficiency, pushed and pressured into a spa pool and thoroughly lathered and washed as though she were a baby. In truth, she felt as helpless as one. Her hair was shampooed and brushed dry. Her thoroughly cleansed body was massaged with some wonderfully soothing body lotion.
Her guilt at accepting such treatment was appeased by the thought that it had to be against all protocol to be presented to the sheikh looking the way she had. Fighting this process would only cause more delay in getting to Xa Shiraq. But it was agony thinking of what might be happening up in the crystal caves.
She was clothed in a simple gown of white silk. She was urged into eating a thick creamy soup. It seemed sensible to comply since she couldn’t afford to be weak from hunger. The soup was delicious and filling. Her tastebuds told her it was a mixture of seafood. As she ate, the drowsier she became.
She awoke in a luxurious bedchamber, lying between satin sheets, and it was broad daylight. A woman attendant smiled benevolently at her. Amanda wanted to scream and rant and rave at the appalling passage of time that represented untold suffering for the man she had to save.