Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

“Not like that.”

“Ah, yes. The minuet, the cotillion. They are enjoyable enough, I suppose.”

Orna was whirling faster and faster, dipping backward, then tossing her long brown hair. The last veil fell to the floor, but still she moved to the music, now slow and sensuous. She moved closer to Kamal, the small cymbals fastened to her fingers beating a primitive rhythm. She was so close, Arabella could see the sheen of sweat on her smooth belly. She leaned back, thrusting her hips forward. Arabella’s wine goblet trembled in her hand and wine fell to the white cloth.

Kamal nodded and the music stopped. “She is talented, is she not?” he asked, looking at Arabella’s whitened face.

Arabella was too embarrassed to say anything. The girl hadn’t moved and was so close that Arabella could see clearly the damp profusion of brown curls between her thighs.

“I think you would look equally lovely in such a position.”

He was baiting her, she thought, and forced herself to keep quiet. She picked up another pastry and slowly bit into it, as if it were the only object that interested her.

Kamal laughed softly, and clapped his hands. The girl, to Arabella’s immense fury, fell forward on her knees and kissed Kamal’s boot. It took all her control not to fling the wine in his face and then smash the goblet against his head.

He nodded and the girl backed from the chamber. The musicians had already faded away. They were alone.

Kamal began to eat. “You are silent, Arabella,” he said.

“More pensive, perhaps, highness.”

“Pensive? Were you not well-treated today?”

“Oh yes. I suppose I was lonely.”

Kamal frowned ferociously at her bowed head. He could not see her face, for her silky hair fell like a veil, obscuring it. “Lonely?”

She raised her head. “I am but a woman, highness. My happiness cannot be found within myself. I am fashioned differently.”

He felt a perverse stab of disappointment. She was behaving just as he had hoped she would: docile, pliant, and submissive to him. “You are fashioned for my love, Arabella. You are fashioned to receive me as my scabbard does my sword.”

She colored charmingly, and he lightly touched his fingers to her bare arm. She did not draw away but what she thought was that if he said something so stupid again, she would surely vomit on his boots. “Do you want to receive me, Arabella? As a man and as your master?”

“You will not hurt me?”

“Hurt you, my little flower? There is only brief pain, and that only when a woman is a maid. After, there is only pleasure. Have you not found that to be true?”

She nodded, her eyes on his strong fingers. They were rough against her soft skin.

“Ah, I see you make no more protestations. I am pleased.” But he wasn’t pleased. He knew a moment of fierce anger. The girl was like the rest, perhaps only more intelligent. She had toyed with him until she had gained his interest. Now he could have her. He was annoyed that he had been such a fool. Allah, he could have taken her the night before and she would have readily yielded to him. It had been all a sham.

“Stand up.”

Arabella locked her knees and rose to stand above him. She felt his eyes traveling over her body, thoroughly and intimately. She caught her lower lip in her teeth.

“Take off your clothes.”

Her eyes flew to his face. His blue eyes studied her, and she felt for a brief moment that he could see into her mind. She quickly lowered her head. “Will you not help me, master?”

He laughed, and the sound made her want to shriek. He thought he had won, and he was enjoying her humiliation. She stood quietly, not daring to look again at him.

Kamal rose gracefully. He clasped his hands about her shoulders and slowly drew her to him. “Kiss me, Arabella,” he said.

She raised her face and rose to her tiptoes. She felt his mouth lightly touch hers. He tasted sweet, of oranges and wine. She felt his tongue softly glide over her lips, then gently probe until hers parted. To her shock, Arabella felt a surge of tingling warmth deep within her belly. No, her mind cried, and she stiffened. He tightened his hold on her and she felt his hands moving upward from her waist, over her bare ribs to her breasts. The only feeling she knew now was raw fear. His mouth was punishing now, and she hated his tongue probing into her.

“Please,” she whispered, and pulled back.

Kamal studied her flushed face. “What bothers you, little flower?” He had felt her reaction to him and sought to bend her completely to his will.