The Love Slave Part 13

His grip on her neck was hard as he pressed the d.i.l.d.o its full length into her, withdrawing it halfway and thrusting it forward once more, and yet again and again, in a fierce rhythm.

She could not struggle against him, with his harsh grasp upon her. She hated what he was doing, what was happening, and then to her growing horror she felt a thrill of pleasure ripple through her uneasy body. She was pushing her b.u.t.tocks back and forth in counterpoint to the thrusts of the d.i.l.d.o. "I hate you for this!" she spat at him, but her body was already shuddering with release even as he drew the d.i.l.d.o from her body, allowing her to collapse into a heap.

"It is not an activity that I enjoy," he said in a flat voice, "but you will remember that I am training you for the caliph's bed and not my own. Abd-al Rahman, I am told, occasionally enjoys this kind of sport. You must be ready to accede to his wishes should he desire you in this fashion. Twice weekly from now on you will take the d.i.l.d.o into your body in this fashion to prepare you."

Zaynab did not answer him. Forcing her onto her back, he saw that her cheeks were wet with her tears, although she had made no sound at all. Tenderly he kissed each tear, and then he gathered her into his arms. It was her undoing. "I hated it!" she sobbed, and then her anger sweeping her up, she cried out, "and I hate you!" Furiously, she began to pummel him with her fists. "You hurt me!"

"It will hurt less each time," he said, grabbing her wrists and imprisoning them in his grip. "In time your body will easily give, and it will not hurt you." He pressed her down upon the mattress, his big body covering hers, seeking her mouth with his, leaving her utterly breathless, and even angrier at him.

"It matters not even if it doesn't hurt. I hated it!" she shrieked at him, pulling her head from his, baring her teeth in fury.

At that he lost his own control. His mouth crushed bruisingly down on hers again, kissing her fiercely. d.a.m.n her! d.a.m.n her! She was the most exciting woman he had ever known, and he loved her. Yet he must not. He dared not. He could not!

She felt the hardness of his manhood against her thigh. She felt his kiss deepening, softening, and her anger tempered. Ohh, why did she love Karim so very much? He was a cold and cruel man whose only interest in her was in training her like an animal to please the sensual appet.i.tes of some potentate. She sighed deeply, returning his kisses. She didn't care! If this was all she was to have of happiness, then she would grab at it for the brief time she would have with him. It was more than Sorcha had ever had. More than Gruoch would ever have.

Zaynab wrapped her arms about her lover, drawing him as close as she could. Her lips welcomed him, parting to invite his tongue into her mouth to play with her tongue. Her hands caressed him, tangling in his soft hair, running down his long muscled back, encouraging him in his deepening pa.s.sion. Her throat strained in a silent scream as he pressed hot kisses upon it, inhaling the perfumed flesh. Straddling her, he leaned back, his hands playing with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s until they were taut with desire, her nipples puckering into tight points that begged to be suckled upon. He heard their quiet message and obliged, his mouth closing first around one nipple, and then the other. He sucked hard upon her, sending a ripple of desire down to that little jewel between her legs. She moaned, satisfied, as he slid between those milky thighs and pushed his raging lance into her eager body.

"Impatient as ever," he teased her through gritted teeth.

"You have but taken the edge off my appet.i.te," she told him boldly, and her nails ran lightly down his back, causing him to shiver. "Now you are well mounted, my lord, let us see if you can run the course like that fine Arab stallion you have brought back from the mountains!"

His knees gripped her hard. Slowly at first, and then with increasing vigor, he began to ride her. He showed no mercy, driving her up one peak and another, and yet another. Now her nails raked him cruelly, her little whimpers urging him onward until finally they both collapsed, exhausted with their pa.s.sionate labors. Rolling off her, he cradled her in his arms. "If you belonged to me, Zaynab, I should never make you unhappy," he said softly. It was the closest he had dared come to admitting his love for her.

"If I belonged to you, my lord Karim, I should never be unhappy," she responded. It was the closest she dared to come to admitting her love.

But he knew, and she knew, and the pain was almost too much to bear. "I am a man of honor, my jewel. In the spring I will deliver you to the caliph in Cordoba," he said to her.

"And I am a woman of honor, my lord Karim. I will go without question, and do honor to both your name and Donal Righ's," Zaynab told him.

There was nothing more to say. There was so little time left for them. Silently, each vowed they would not waste that time.

Chapter 8.

"I believe I have found a bride for you, my son," Habib ibn Malik told Karim. "Her name is Hatiba."

"If you think she is suitable, my father, then so be it," Karim answered. What difference did it make? he thought to himself. I will never love her as I love Zaynab.

"She is a lovely girl," Alimah added, but she could see that her youngest son was otherwise preoccupied. "Are you certain, Karim, that you wish to marry at this time? Perhaps you would enjoy one more voyage on I'timad."

"I will take that voyage when I sail to Cordoba with Zaynab and her train," he answered, "and then I will go on to Eire to inform Donal Righ of the caliph's delight in his gifts. It is time that I married. Arrange the wedding for next autumn."

"Let me tell you about Hatiba," said his father, who was not quite as intuitive as Alimah. "She is the daughter of Hussein ibn Hussein."

"A Berber?" Allah help him. Berber girls were noted for their docile temperaments. She would be obedient, and boring beyond belief, but perhaps that was what he needed. There could be no comparisons to Zaynab. Zaynab. His golden-haired pa.s.sionate love.

"I have done very well by you, Karim," his father continued. "Hussein ibn Hussein is an enormously wealthy breeder of fine Arabians. The horses you bought undoubtedly came from one of his farms. He is giving Hatiba a breeding facility, one hundred mares, and two young stallions in their prime as part of her dowry. What think you of that, my son? Is it not impressive?" Habib ibn Malik was enormously pleased with this match, which would add to his family's wealth and prestige.

"Most impressive. Is she ugly, then, that her father feels the need to show such generosity?" Karim wondered aloud.

"I have seen Hatiba, and she is very fair," his mother responded. "She has pale gold skin that absolutely glows with her good health. Her hair is l.u.s.trous and silky, as black as ebony. She has gray eyes and a sweet, pretty face. Her demeanor is modest and soft-spoken. If her father is generous, it is because she is his last child, the daughter of his favorite wife. I have spoken with that lady myself. She tells me that Hussein ibn Hussein dotes on Hatiba. That is why he has been so loath to make a match for her, but she will soon be too old, so he has at last relented."

"How old is she?" Karim asked.

"Fifteen, my son," his father answered.

"The same age as Zaynab," he said low, but Alimah heard him.

Later, when her husband had gone, she sat with her son and questioned him. "You have not fallen in love with this girl, Karim, have you?" Her lovely face was genuinely concerned.

"I love her," he said bluntly, "and she loves me."

Alimah's hand went to her heart. "She has told you so?" she asked him. This was all her husband's fault When Karim, in his youth, had shown himself to be an extremely sensual man, Habib had, at the wicked suggestion of Ja'far and Ayyub, sent her younger son to the School of the Pa.s.sion Masters in Samarkand. The brothers had meant it as a jest, but Habib had taken them seriously. Karim had obviously been diligent in his studies, because for a time he was successful in this field.

But Karim was a sensitive man, although men, Alimah knew, rarely admitted to such feelings. He had felt great guilt when the Love Slave Leila had killed herself over him. It had only been a matter of time before something like this was bound to happen. She had been so relieved when he decided to cease his activities, and worried once more when her son had taken Zaynab on for friendship's sake. Now this!

"Neither Zaynab nor I have openly admitted-voiced, if you will, my mother-the love we have for one another. Would it change anything? The pain is already almost unbearable," he answered her.

"Send her to Cordoba now with Alaeddin," Alimah begged.

He shook his head. "She goes in the spring, and not before. She is not quite ready yet, my mother. Besides, Alaeddin will captain my new vessel, Iniga. It will take two vessels to carry all the gifts that Donal Righ has sent to Abd-al Rahman."

"I am sorry for you both," Alimah said quietly. "Sadly, the heart is not often wise. It cannot be controlled by reason. You may never love another woman as you do Zaynab, my son, but in time the pain will lessen and you will love again. So will she. Not as she loves you perhaps, but then you do not want her to be unhappy, I hope."

"No," he replied sadly. "I do not want her to be unhappy."

His mother put a comforting hand upon his. "Hatiba will please you, I promise you that Be good to her, for she is the innocent in this."

"When have I not been kind to a woman?" he asked her bitterly. "I have been taught to appreciate women as no other man. Hatiba bat Hussein will be my first wife. She will be respected and honored as such."

"Then I shall tell your father to formalize the arrangements and sign the contracts?"

"How much dowry will I give my bride?" Karim asked her. It was the custom for a bride to be given a price as well as to give her husband a dowry. Islam protected its womenfolk. If in the future Karim divorced Hatiba, both her dowry and her bride price would be given to her in settlement Her children would remain the father's responsibility.

"The bride price will be three thousand gold dinars. Such a sum honors both father and daughter," Alimah told her son.

Karim nodded. "It is generous, but fair," he said. "Tell Father I will be responsible for the bride price myself. I can more than afford it When will the qadi come to record the contract?"

"The marriage contract will be signed the day of Iniga's wedding. Hussein ibn Hussein has been invited. He has insisted, however, that you not see Hatiba until the day of the wedding," she explained. "I know it is old-fashioned, but it is his wish as her father."

"She is obviously an obedient daughter," he replied dryly. "I suppose it augurs well for my married life. Can you imagine Iniga's reaction if you told her she was marrying a total stranger and could not lay eyes upon him until the marriage was celebrated, the deed done?"

Alimah burst out laughing, and then said, "Fortunately, we do not have that problem with Iniga, as she and Ahmed have known each other their whole lives. They are a good match."

"Zaynab and Iniga have become friends," he said.

"I know," Alimah said, frowning again. "I want to disapprove, but I cannot. Zaynab is charming and mannerly. She and Iniga are genuinely fond of one another. Who knows what Zaynab's fate is to be? Should she become the caliph's favorite, Iniga would have a very powerful friend in Cordoba."

"You like her too," Karim noted softly.

"Yes," his mother admitted, "I do. I find her a sensible girl."

"Iniga has invited her to her wedding. I will bring her and Oma. Neither of them has really known a family. They seem to bloom in the warmth of ours. I will send her back to the villa when Ahmed's procession comes to take Iniga to his father's house."

"Very well, I will allow it," Alimah said. "Iniga did not want a large wedding, and so it will be a simple affair in our gardens."

"I will leave the month after the wedding for Cordoba," Karim said. "Then I will go on to Eire, but I shall not stay there. I go but to inform Donal Righ that I have completed my commission for him. I shall stay in Eire just long enough to take on water, stores, and whatever cargo I can find before returning home."

"And you will come back to your own wedding," Alimah said.

"Yes," he agreed. He would marry a girl named Hatiba. A girl he had never met, who would never please him no matter how hard she tried; but she would never realize it. He would be kind and gentle to Hatiba, his Berber bride, and she would not ever know that he loved another woman with every fiber of his being. That he would always love her. That he would love no other but Zaynab, of the golden tresses.

Karim brought Zaynab and Oma to see the city they had but briefly pa.s.sed through on their arrival. The two young women, properly garbed in their black yashmaks, nothing but their eyes showing, alighted from their litter and strolled about the market with Karim. It seemed to Zaynab and Oma that there was everything imaginable for sale, and many things they had never imagined. The awninged stalls overflowed with a plethora of goods. Colorful fabrics-silks and cottons, linens and brocades-were hung out for sale. They blew like banners in the gentle breeze. There was beautiful leatherwork, pottery, and bra.s.swork; exquisite carved boxes of ivory, soapstone, and bone displayed with equally beautiful boxes that were delicately painted in bright colors on black lacquer.

One stall sold colorful live birds, which hung confined in their willow cages. Some of the creatures sang sweetly, while others simply shrieked raucously, hanging upside down on the bars, glaring with beady black eyes at the pa.s.sersby. A poulterer and a butcher were next to one another, their wares displayed for all to see. Beef and lamb hung side by side, boys with palm fans shooing the flies from the meat Chickens squawked, ducks quacked, and pigeons cooed, confined in their pens, awaiting a buyer. There were jewelers selling everything from cheap bra.s.s earrings to expensive baubles that glittered in the sunshine.

Rounding a corner, they came upon a slave merchant. They stopped, fascinated. Strong young black men were paraded naked, and were quickly sold to new masters. A pretty dark-haired young girl was brought from behind a curtain. She tried to cover her nudity with her hands, but the slave master spoke sharply to her, and with reluctance she revealed all to an audience of eager bidders. The bidding was spirited. The girl, advertised as a virgin with a physician's proof of her condition, sold quickly for three hundred thirty dinars.

"Would that have happened to Oma and me if Donal Righ had not bought us?" Zaynab asked Karim.

He nodded. "Yes, my jewel. A slave market is not a happy place."

Once again, Zaynab realized, but this time far more strongly, how fortunate she and Oma had been to be sold to Donal Righ. Oh, they had been told it often enough, but seeing that poor frightened girl just now had really made her understand. If men did not think me beautiful, she considered thoughtfully, I would have ended up terrified in some public marketplace, and Oma as well. She shuddered in her distaste, but her companions did not notice.

Putting a hand beneath Zaynab's elbow, Karim directed her into another part of the market, where they came upon stalls filled with fruits, flowers, and vegetables. One merchant hawked carnations, jasmine, myrtle, and roses. Another offered baskets filled with cuc.u.mbers, peas, beans, asparagus, aubergines, and onions. There was a stall filled with herbs, mint, marjoram, sweet lavender, and jars of yellow saffron. The fruit seller offered oranges, pomegranates, bananas, grapes, and almonds.

Karim bought them little cups of water flavored with lemon to a.s.suage their thirsts, for the day had grown unseasonably warm for late winter. "Sip it through your veils," he cautioned them. "You must never show your faces in public, lest you disgrace yourselves."

They walked on, and Zaynab's eye was caught by a small stall where a silversmith worked. "May we stop, my lord?"

"Indeed," he said, "and you may each choose a gift if something catches your fancy."

The serving girl's eyes lit upon a delicate silver chain studded with blue Persian lapis, and Karim generously bought it for her. Zaynab, however, fell in love with a silver cup. It was not footed, but rather round in shape to fit comfortably in the palm of the hand. The cup was decorated with a raised design: a lily, about which a small hummingbird hovered. The flower was overlaid with gilt, while the bird was enameled in bright green and violet with a tiny ruby eye.

"This is what I desire, my lord," she told him quietly, and he purchased it for her.

"You will remember me each time you sip from this cup," he said as he escorted her to her litter.

"I could never forget you," she told him softly.

"The silver comes from mines in the nearby mountains that belong to Alcazaba Malina," he told her in an effort to change the subject. "Those mines are responsible in part for the city's prosperity."

She could not look at him. Turning her head, she lay back in the litter and pretended to doze. In a few weeks Iniga would marry, and the month after, Karim would take her to Cordoba. She would never see him again. The knowledge was like a knife to her heart. Yet did any woman have a different lot in life? Her sister had been married for expediency's sake. Zaynab wondered if the child Gruoch had borne was the hoped-for son. If it had been, then Sorcha MacDuff's revenge would have been total and complete. A true MacDuff would continue to possess Ben MacDui, as well as the MacFhearghuis's lands. I will never know, Zaynab thought.

Iniga's wedding day arrived. Zaynab had consulted Karim as to what she should wear. "I would do your sister honor, but I do not want to outshine her on her day of days," she told him.

"If you wore a sackcloth you would outshine every woman in the world," he said gallantly. "I can only tell you not to wear pink, for that is the color of my sister's garment."

"What help is that?" she grumbled at him.

"Something elegant, but simple," Oma said, drawing forth from the chest a caftan of aquamarine silk. The round neckline was embroidered in gold and silk thread flowers, as were the bottom of the sleeves. "There are matching silk trousers for beneath, my lady. We'll use the little gold slippers. The plain ones, not the jeweled."

Karim, listening, nodded his agreement. "And only earbobs for jewelry," he said. "The little gold crescent moons. Perhaps a single bracelet, but nothing more."

Oma dressed her mistress and then did her hair. She braided the long thick gilt ma.s.s into a single plait, weaving matching silk ribbons studded with pearls among the silky tresses. When she had finished, she topped the braid with a diaphanous silk veil of blue-green shot through with gold and silver. It had a matching face veil. The servant's own garb was similar in style to her mistress's, but it lacked embroidery and was of a pretty soft green. About her slender neck Oma proudly wore the silver necklace Karim had bought her. Sadly, all their splendor was topped by the black yashmaks they were forced to wear when traveling.

The litter arrived to take the two women into the city. As was his custom, Karim rode by their side. When they reached the street where Habib ibn Malik's home was located, the litter stopped before the garden gate. Dismounting his horse, Karim opened the gate with his key.

"I must enter through another way," he said. "You will find the other women in the garden at their celebration."

"Where are the men?" Zaynab asked.

"The celebrations are separate," he explained. "It is our custom. Go now, and enjoy yourselves. My mother will tell you when it is time for you to leave. You will depart through this same gate, and I will be waiting for you. Enjoy yourselves!"

They walked through the gate and found themselves in the most exquisite gardens. There were tall graceful trees everywhere, and pools with water lilies, and fountains that sprayed showers of tiny droplets into the sweet afternoon air. Following the sound of music, they moved along a gravel path until they reached the bridal party. The two young women went immediately to the lady Alimah and paid their respects.

Karim's mother was looking particularly beautiful and happy this day. "Do you see the bride?" she asked them, and turning them about, pointed.

There in the center of the garden, Iniga sat upon a golden throne, garbed in soft pink silk sewn all over with tiny crystals and diamonds. Her hair was unbound and dusted with gold, but a delicate pink veil was placed modestly over it. Slave women came and removed Zaynab's and Oma's travel garments. Instinctively, the two shook the wrinkles from their gowns.

Alimah looked approvingly upon them. "How pretty you both are," she said in a kindly tone. "Now go, and greet my daughter."

They hurried to the center of the garden, where Iniga sat alone, surrounded by her dowry and wedding gifts. She grinned mischievously at them. "What do you think?" She laughed. "Am I not like some painted idol?"

"You are quite magnificent," Zaynab agreed. "Do you sit there all day, Iniga, or are you allowed to move about?"

"I must sit here in my solitary splendor," Iniga chuckled, "until late afternoon when Ahmed and his male relations will come to take me to his father's house, where we will live. The party will continue there, again men and women in separate areas, until at last my husband and I may escape to the privacy of our bedchamber. After that my glory is dimmed until the day I announce I am with child. Then it will brighten with each pa.s.sing month until I deliver my offspring, who will hopefully be a son."

"What if you birth a daughter?" Zaynab asked her.

"A son is hoped for first, but a daughter is welcomed too. Before the prophet came and brought enlightenment to our people, many killed their female infants. The Quran, however, says: 'Do not kill your children because you fear poverty. We will grant you subsistence to feed them. Killing them would be a terrible mistake.' " Iniga smiled. "Besides, we women are lifegivers. We should not be lifetakers."

It was a pleasant afternoon. An all-female orchestra played, and often the women danced with each other beneath the eye of the bride. Slave girls pa.s.sed trays of drinks, little cakes, sugared dates, and other sweets. Finally, Alimah signaled to Zaynab and Oma that it was time for them to leave. Returning to where Iniga sat enthroned, they wished her well and then bid her farewell.

"Come and see me," Zaynab said, "before we leave for Cordoba."

"When will you go?" Iniga asked.

"After Ramadan, Karim has said," Zaynab answered.

"I will come," Iniga promised her friend. "He will not leave until after Id al-Fitr, the three-day celebration ending Ramadan. The holy month begins in two days, and I will not be able to come during it, but I will come at Id al-Fitr, Zaynab, I promise."