Devil's Daughter (Devil 2)

“He is a barbarian,” Arabella said. “It is disgusting.”

“No, it is your punishment, my lady,” Raj said.

“Punishment.” She shot a hard look at Lella. “He is a savage, no matter what you say. I will not be a part of this, Raj. I care not what he does.”

Raj slowly plucked a speck of lint from the wide sleeve of his blue robe. “His highness expected that you would refuse, my lady. He informed me that you would be present, even if I had to have you bound and dragged before him.”

“Does he have the conceit to believe that I care if he selects a woman for his bed as a man would select a mare to ride?”

“I do not know what is in his mind, my lady.”

Lella said gently, “You will not refuse, Arabella. You will face him, but not in bonds.”

“I suppose,” she said finally, her voice infinitely weary, “that if I do not have honor and pride, I have nothing. If you would excuse me now, I wish to prepare myself.”

Raj wished he could comfort her, say something to ease the pain he saw in her, but he didn’t know what Kamal intended. When Raj had come before him, Kamal had appeared very calm, but his instructions were issued in such a cold voice that Raj could feel his anger hot and thick just beneath the surface. He realized that he didn’t want to know what Arabella had done to evoke such rage in him. He watched her as she ran her fingers through her disheveled hair.

He started at the sound of her voice. “Don?

??t worry that I will act anything but the bored observer, Raj. Whatever it is he intends, it won’t matter. I won’t react, in any way.”

“I hope your intentions become fact, my lady.”

Chapter 23

We are all like sweets in a confectioner’s shop, Arabella thought, lined up in our prettiest wrappings to entice the buyer. Only here there was no buyer, there was simply the master who owned all the dainty morsels set before him. The girls were giggling, preening in front of each other, smoothing their soft trousers over their hips. More like an endless feast, Arabella thought, now that she knew what it was men wanted of women. She saw herself panting like any loose creature, beyond herself, aching for him to pleasure her. She saw him clearly, his man’s body all planes and sharp angles, his flesh smooth and furred, the muscles hard.

“I hate him,” she said, and drew back, realizing that she had spoken aloud; the young girl standing near to her was glancing at her, her head cocked in question. The girl’s belly was beginning to swell with child. Arabella swallowed. Would a babe be her unwanted punishment for the previous night? A man’s gift to a woman, or a man’s curse.

The afternoon sun was beginning to slant downward, bright slashes of light knifing through the oleanders. Arabella drew herself apart and sat upon a narrow marble bench. She heard Elena’s bright voice and her laughter. The girl probably was quite nice, when Arabella was not around her.

Arabella was lost in her own misery until she was drawn by the sounds of approaching men. The huge doors to the harem were flung open and three Turkish soldiers, brightly garbed in their crimson-and-white uniforms, flanked Kamal as he walked slowly into the harem garden. Behind him walked an old man whom she had seen before but did not know. She watched Raj approach Kamal and bow deeply before him.

Bowing before a swine, she thought. He was dressed in pristine white. His shirt was full-sleeved and opened in the front to show a chain of gold, an odd medallion hanging from it. His waist was banded by a scarlet silk belt from which hung a curved dagger, its ivory handle covered with jewels. Unlike English gentlemen’s, his trousers were cut full, tucked into black leather boots that hugged his calves. He looked powerful and forbidding, despite the slight smile on his lips. His thick golden hair was brushed neatly, but Arabella was jolted by the memory of tangling her fingers through it. His blue eyes were cold and slightly narrowed against the harsh rays of sunlight. She could feel him searching among the women, searching her out. She wanted to hide beneath the marble bench, but she would not allow herself to show him how she feared him.

Slowly she rose, and for an instant across the distance their eyes locked. She reached out and plucked a rose from the bush beside her. Slowly she held the rose in front of her and began to pluck off its petals, one by one, until it was naught but a naked bud. Then she dropped it and ground it beneath her heel.

Kamal felt rage at her symbolic act. Was he to take the blame for her folly? He said in a calm and clear voice, “Raj, display my women to their best advantage. I wish to inspect them now.”

Arabella ground her teeth. A woman to him was naught but a toy, an object to be enjoyed at his leisure and tossed aside when he grew bored. Or, a woman who angered him was to be humiliated before he tossed her aside.

Raj was lining the girls up in front of the arched entry columns. Lella sat on a cushioned bench near to the rippling pool, seemingly unmoved by the silently awed girls now standing straight for their master’s inspection.

Kamal stopped beside her. “You are well, my sister?”

“Aye,” Lella said. “ ‘Twill not be long now, Kamal. If I do not birth the babe soon, he will come from my body speaking to me of all his woes.”

He smiled, but Lella knew it was an abstracted smile. “Kamal—”

He brought his eyes back to rest on her upturned face.

“Why do you do this?”

The smile never left his face. “I remember Hamil telling me—before he met you, Lella—that the master must know the women in his harem. He would say that the eunuchs occasionally slipped in a pearl of great beauty.”

“Ah,” Lella said.

“Stay away from her, Lella,” he said suddenly, his voice harsh. “She is not what you believe her to be.”