Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

“Lady Arabella.”

She raised dull eyes to Lella.

“May I visit you for a while?”

“If you wish.”

Lella sat awkwardly beside her. “I admire your courage,” she said after a moment.

“If I were truly courageous, I would have killed him. I think perhaps I knew I would die if my aim were true. I am more a coward.”

“No, you are no coward.” Lella folded her hands over the mound of her belly. “You know, child, I feel as though I am responsible. It was I who told you to be more conciliating, more submissive.”

“No,” Arabella said firmly. “It was my idea, and you will not take any blame. Besides, he is quite all right. It is merely a scratch on his shoulder.”

“You are fortunate, Lady Arabella, that it is Kamal who rules.”

“Oh, yes, certainly.”

“Nay,” Lella continued. “It’s true. Hamil, my husband, I love—loved him dearly, but he was a Muslim, his beliefs rigid. Had you defied him, he would have treated you very differently. I do not mean to say that he was not a merciful man, it is just that—”

“Women rank somewhat above dogs,” Arabella interrupted. “Ah, Lella, how do you stand to be a prisoner in this place?”

“No, you must attend me, child. Muslim men love their women, truly, but they believe that women are fashioned to be the mothers of their sons, that women are weak creatures and need their protection. They could not conceive of a woman who wants to step out of her slippers and act as they would act. I tell you this so that you will understand how unusually Kamal has behaved toward you. It is doubtless because of the years he spent in Europe.”

“Kamal truly lived in Europe?”

“Indeed. He returned to Oran but seven months ago when his half-brother died. He is a good ruler, but I do not believe it is what he truly wants. His sense of duty, his honor, if you will, compels him to carry out his responsibilities to the Dey of Algiers. Nor do I think him particularly happy. He is more European than Muslim, you see, and the two cultures war within him.”

“If he is so much tied to Europe, then how can he bear to treat women as he does? Locked up as prisoners, used for his pleasure.”

Lella smiled. “Kamal is not stupid, child. He knows and accepts the Muslim way. As the Bey of Oran, he must conform to Muslim law and Muslim tradition. That includes his harem. He must pleasure himself with his women; if he did not, those he rules would question not only his leadership but also his commitment to this way of life. Do you understand? It is his duty, and Kamal would never shirk his duty.”

“I do not want to understand,” Arabella said. “I must hate him, and I must somehow save my parents.”

“It is not him. It is his mother. Again, his honor dictates that he avenge her.”

“But you say he is not stupid. You know what she is like, Lella. How can he be so blind?”

“Lady Arabella, she is his mother. Do not you defend your parents with every breath you take? Also, he does not know her. He was taken from her at a very young age and raised by men and his father, as is the custom. When he was thirteen, Hamil and Kamal’s mother convinced Khar El-Din that he should be educated in Europe. Their belief was that he would learn the ways of the Europeans and thus aid Hamil when he came to power.”

Somehow, Arabella thought, turning over what Lella told her in her mind, somehow I must reach him. I must make him understand. Lella’s voice broke into her reverie. “Do you know that he refuses to take a wife? To his mother’s fury, he has announced that if I birth a son, the child will be his heir.”

Arabella felt a surge of hope. Perhaps if she spoke to him as she would to a European, he would come to trust her, believe what she told him. On the heels of that wishful thought, she realized that he would believe she was but playing another role with him. Was there nothing she could do? She wanted to be alone, to think. “Lella, you are kind to me, and all I do is argue with you. You must be tired with the burden of your child.”

Lella gave her a smile and rose clumsily to her feet. “Whatever you decide to do next, please take care. Kamal can be pushed only so far. He must retain the respect of his people to be an effective rule. If you need me, you have but to send Lena to me.” With those words, she was gone.

Arabella rose and stretched. How was she to save her parents? Surely Kamal would be wary of her now. She hung her head, staring at the toes of her red leather slippers, admitting to herself that she had not wanted to kill him. It was his mother who deserved punishment, not him. What then was she to do?

She strolled out into the harem garden. She gazed at the beautiful young girls who were kept here for his pleasure. She heard their chatter, felt the power of their presence. His pleasure. She halted, frozen in her tracks. He had wanted her; she realized that now, but he hadn’t forced her. She had only herself, her body, to bargain with. She felt but a moment of fear at the thought of being naked and vulnerable to him. She tossed her head, her brow furrowed in pain. She would bear it; she must bear it. Her willingness in his bed in trade for her parents’ safety.

She paused, suddenly apprehensive. She was a virgin; but she was, after all, twenty years old. Was it possible that she no longer had a maidenhead? If not, could a man tell if a woman had never before been with another man? What if he still believed her a wanton after he had sated himself with her body? What if he laughed at her bargain after he had taken what he wanted? Arabella started at a rippling of pain. She stared down at her palms, at the deep scratches her fingernails had made. How did one go about seducing a man?

The afternoon stretched endlessly before her. She returned to her small chamber and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. When Raj appeared in the open doorway and informed her that Kamal wished to see her, she felt a surge of relief.

“Very well,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of her bed.

He frowned at her. “I pray you will not attempt any more foolishness, Lady Arabella.”