Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

She spit in his face. As if from a great distance, Arabella heard women shrieking, and the angry rumble of men’s voices.

“I will die with honor,” she said, and forced her back to straighten.

Kamal slowly wiped the spittle from his cheek. He stared at the bedraggled girl, and felt a moment of reluctant admiration for her courage.

“Hassan,” he said slowly, turning to his white-faced minister. “Call Raj.”

“Yes, highness.”

“Women have no honor,” he said to her, his voice flat. “I have no intention of killing you, at least not yet.” He looked down at his hand and was not surprised to see a streak of dirty brown stain on his palm. Obviously, beneath her filth, she must at least look like a lady, else what man would have bedded her?

“If you would know about whores,” Arabella said, unable to stop herself, “let me tell you about your mother. She is the one with no honor, not I. It is obvious to me that her blood flows in your veins.” She looked toward the slave girls. “At least she tries to be somewhat discreet about her lovers.”

“I suggest you close your mouth now,” Kamal said. “That is, if you wish to keep your tongue.”

Arabella laughed. “Is that what savages do, your highness?”

“Raj,” Kamal said pleasantly, ignoring her. “You see this creature? You are known to work miracles. Return her to me tonight. At least bathe the stench off her.”

“No,” Arabella yelled. “I won’t go.”

Kamal turned away from her. “Take her away,” he said.

Arabella’s arms were yanked outward and she was dragged from the room.

“By Allah,” Hassan said in a bewildered voice. “What has your mother sent you?”

“She has sent me a guttersnipe, Hassan. A guttersnipe who needs to be taught her place.” But she is innocent of her father’s crimes.

“What will you do with her, highness?”

Kamal shrugged. “If she has served the men at court, she is likely diseased.”

“Your mother,” he said slowly. “She has written the Earl of Clare of his daughter’s capture.”

“Yes,” Kamal said, repressing the anger he felt toward her. Despite what the daughter was, it was not just to use her as a pawn. He turned to his half-brother. “Did you have any conversation with the girl?”

Risan shook his head. “I saw her for the first time today. Your mother ordered that she be kept in confinement.” He grinned widely. “I thought her docile enough until she saw you, brother.”

“There is more here,” Hassan said thoughtfully, “than meets the eye.”

The huge black eunuch Raj signaled for the Bey’s guards to release her. He said very carefully in beautiful Italian, “Signorina, do not fight me. It will gain you nothing.”

At the gentleness of his voice, Arabella’s fury died without a sputter. She said in a sob, “I want to go home. I was brought here against my will.”

“I know, little one. You are Lady Arabella Welles, daughter of the Earl of Clare.” He chuckled, his great belly shaking. “I have never before seen my master so enraged. He is a man who is easy with women. I must suppose that his anger made him blind. He did not see you as I do. Now, come. You will feel much better very soon.”

Arabella sniffed back her tears. She touched her fingers to her face. She fancied she could feel the sting from his palm. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the harem.”

“Harem.” Arabella stopped in her tracks and stared at the great black man in consternation.

“You have nothing to fear,” Raj said. “You may trust me, my lady. I will protect you.”

“How do you know who I am?”

Raj looked at her closely. She was sniffing back her tears noisily, like a child. “I imagine that everyone in the palace knows who you are. Your arrival was not calm. Come now.”