The Love Slave Part 8

He looked sharply at her. "You are amazingly amenable."

"I dinna sleep well at the foot of the bed," she said. "It gave me the time to think on what ye had told me. I want to succeed wi' the caliph, my lord. Donal Righ has been kind to me. I would bring honor to his gift. If I behave badly, it would reflect upon him."

She sounded very reasonable. Still, he was suspicious. It was too great a change from her att.i.tude last night. Then he relented. She was intelligent, he knew. She just lacked any experience, and obviously had had no discipline growing up. She was used to being willful, but perhaps his strong actions last night had made her realize that she could not continue to behave mulishly.

They went to the baths, where Erda awaited them. The old woman was an expert bath mistress, and Zaynab an excellent pupil. She mimicked each of Erda's actions perfectly, sc.r.a.ping away the sweat on Karim al Malina's body and rinsing him with warm water. Her fingers imitated Erda's, dipping into the alabaster soap jar, smoothing the creamy substance over his chest, working it into a fragrant foam. Her hands smoothed over his upper body; his long, lean back.

"My bones are all of an ache today, Zaynab," Erda told her. "Kneel down and wash Karim al Malina's legs, then his feet, being certain to do each toe separately, my chick."

When Zaynab had finished this task, he surprised her by turning quickly about. She suddenly found herself facing his manhood. Startled, she looked up at him questioningly.

"Be gentle," were his only words of instruction, said in a monotone, but his azure eyes were dancing devilishly.

"Aye, my lord," she answered meekly. " 'Tis a verra small thing, and shouldna take long," she finished.

Erda cackled with appreciation at the jibe. Something was going on between these two, although she could not quite decide what it was.

Zaynab soaped Karim al Malina's manhood and his pouch of life with tender fingers. Gently she smoothed and rubbed him, watching, fascinated, as he grew in breadth and length. It was really quite amazing, but she gave no indication of either admiration or fear. When he was hard, his male member thrusting itself straight forward, Zaynab stood and, reaching for the nearest basin of fresh water, said, "Let me rinse ye, my lord, lest the soap b.u.m ye."

"Zaynab!" Old Erda's voice cried out urgently even as the girl splashed the water upon Karim al Malina. " 'Tis cold ..." Erda's voice faded away. For a long moment there was only the sound of dripping water from the corner fountain and the lapping of the water in the bathing pool.

"Oh dear," Zaynab said in a small, innocent-sounding voice. The icy dousing had all but sent his magnificent display of manhood into hiding.

Had she done it deliberately? he wondered. Of course she had! It was her revenge for the spanking he had given her.

"My lord, my apologies," Zaynab said. "I believed the basin filled with warm water. Erda always adds a pitcher of warm water from the pool to the cold water. I thought she had done it."

"My chick, I told ye to do it," Erda said, pointing to the full pitcher by the basin. "Ye forgot, I fear."

"My eyes were blinded by my lord's exhibition of his manhood. Remember that I am but an innocent maid with little experience." Then, without another word, she rinsed the rest of his big body, but this time with more tepid water from a separate basin.

Oh, yes! It had been deliberate. She would drive him to the whip yet, he feared, but when he finished with her, she would be the most perfect Love Slave he had ever trained.

With a sweet smile, she led him by the hand down into the bathing pool. "Is it better now, my lord?" she queried him solicitously.

"You're a vixen," he told her softly.

"Aye, my lord," she replied in equally low tones.

"You learn quickly," he said. "You bathed me well, but for that one mistake. Do not make such a mistake again, Zaynab, or you will indeed feel the sting of my lash. I will not warn you further, my flower."

"As my lord commands," she murmured humbly, but he sensed absolutely no humility at all in her modest demeanor.

It was to be war between them, then. He recognized it in that moment. She would be outwardly obedient, but never truly so. What a challenge she presented to him, he thought. His excitement rose. To tame her, yet not to break her spirit. Without that spirit, she would be just another beautiful creature, and she would certainly not survive in the harem of the caliph. She must be strong, but she must also learn when to bend. Was such a thing even possible?

They returned to their chamber and he dressed. "I must go to the docks, to ascertain that I'timad is being loaded properly and on schedule. Have Oma bring you something to eat. Rest, for I shall return by mid-afternoon to resume your lessons." Then he was gone. Zaynab opened the storage chest to draw out fresh garments, but the chest was empty. "Oma!" she called.

The girl came through the door wearing a foreign-looking garment and carrying another. "Donal Righ has had his woman alter some of his mother's clothing for us. This garment is called a caftan, and worn by the women of al-Andalus. He says we must get used to Moorish garments. Here is yours. Is it not lovely?"

The caftan was the pale blue of a summer sky. It was made of silk. The neckline was high, yet had a keyhole opening embroidered in silver thread that matched the embroidery on the edges of the long, wide sleeves. Zaynab slipped it over her head, delighted by the softness of the fabric. "It's verra beautiful," she said, almost to herself.

"Now let me bring ye some food," Oma replied briskly.

"Let us eat in the garden," her mistress suggested, and the servant agreed.

While the two girls ate their meal, Karim al Malina sat in his cabin aboard I'timad and pondered his next move, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of Alaeddin ben Omar.

"I have never seen you so perplexed over a woman," the first mate said with a chuckle. "I will admit these northern girls are different. That little Oma may be a virgin, but she is no fool."

"They are too independent," Karim said slowly. "I wonder if such a woman can truly become a good Love Slave. I have never dealt with such a woman before. What if she cannot be properly trained?"

"Does she fight you?" Alaeddin asked curiously.

"Aye, and at the same time nay," came the answer. "She has overcome her initial fear of pa.s.sion, but she finds it difficult, nay almost impossible, to be obedient. I am not certain what to do with her, my friend. Were she another girl, I would beat her. I have indeed threatened to do so, but she will not be quelled."

"What does she want of you?" the first mate asked intuitively.

Karim was startled by the question at first, and then he said, "She wants me to make love to her, and she is not yet ready."

"Why?" Alaeddin queried. "This is no virgin, Karim, but a girl who has been cruelly treated. Now you have shown her that a man need not be cruel; that a man can give pleasure while being gentle. She is aroused and curious to know more. You cannot treat her as you would a dewy-eyed virgin whom you are training for some rich master. With such a virgin, you would spend weeks gently leading her up to that moment when you would remove the impediment of her virginity for her master, initiating her into the joys of love. This girl does not understand love. She has already been brutally used. She only knows that when a man couples with a woman, it brings her pain, and shame.

"Now you have suggested by your actions that this may not be so. Before you can continue on with her, she needs to have the rea.s.surance that only your full pa.s.sion can give her. You must erase from her memory the previous cruelties done her if you are to have her full cooperation. I will wager if you make complete and sweet love to her, she will become as obedient as any woman mastered by a loving and skillful c.o.c.k." He chuckled again. "Surely the Pa.s.sion Masters did not teach you to be so rigid in your methods, Karim. You know better than even I that all women are certainly not the same. Each is different in her own way, my friend. Each must be approached differently."

"Perhaps I am afraid," Karim told his friend.

"Afraid? You? Never!" came the sure reply.

"I cannot help but remember Leila," Karim said.

"I remember Leila too," Alaeddin ben Omar replied. "She was a beautiful girl, but as finely drawn and as high-strung as a Berber chieftain's brood mare ready to be mated by a powerful desert stallion. Any sensible man could have seen she was not suitable to be trained as a Love Slave. Any man except that fool, who in his l.u.s.t purchased her. Then he was not satisfied by her extraordinary beauty. He had to have a Love Slave. He was a friend of your father's, as I recall, wasn't he?

"You would have never taken the girl into your charge except that he was. Perhaps you do not recall it clearly, but I do. You did not think her suitable for training at the time, but your father pleaded with you to do this favor for his old friend. So you did, and of course the girl fell in love with you when her only other choice was that aging fool who owned her. It was never your fault, Karim. This girl is not the same. She is sound of mind and strong of heart. Give her a taste of true pa.s.sion, and she will come to heel, I guarantee it."

"Perhaps you are right," the captain said thoughtfully. "Mayhap when the mystery is over for her, and she is rea.s.sured, she will settle down, paying heed to her instructions. Her success with the caliph will not only bring honor to Donal Righ, but to me as well. That would please my father."

Alaeddin ben Omar grinned wickedly. "Then why are you yet here, my captain? Go back to the house and give the stubborn wench the pleasure she craves. I will see to the ship."

"And what of you, Alaeddin? Will you continue in your seduction of the little Oma? She is a toothsome creature," Karim remarked.

"She will have taken my lance into her virgin sheath before we sail, my captain," the first mate bragged. "I mean to be the first with her, and I'll teach her well, I promise."

Karim al Malina picked up his cape and drew it about his broad shoulders. "Be gentle with the girl," he advised. "I do not want her unhappy, lest she distress Zaynab. The two are close, and I want them both content, my friend. Remember, you are a man of vast experience, and I do not remember that you have ever had a virgin. They must be treated in a kindly fashion, not taken harshly."

"I will not harm the little wench," Alaeddin promised. "I will just widen her world as I widen her sweet pa.s.sage," he finished with a grin. "I'll not force her, my captain."

"Good!" The captain exited his cabin with his mate. "Be certain that all the hides are aboard today, and see each is whole, not damaged. Check them individually. Accept none that are ripped or spoiled. I do not expect I shall be back until sometime tomorrow."

The first mate nodded. "I wish you joy of your conquest," he said, a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"We shall see," came the reply. "These girls from Alba seem unpredictable at best, and totally wild at the worst. We shall see." Then he went down the gangplank and up the street to the house of Donal Righ, where Regan MacDuff, now called Zaynab, awaited his coming.

Chapter 5.

Karim al Malina found both girls in Donal Righ's garden upon his return from the harbor. Oma bowed and discreetly attempted to depart so that her mistress might have privacy, but Karim stopped her, gently taking her arm. As fond as he was of his first mate, he did not want Oma believing that unless she succ.u.mbed to Alaeddin's wiles she would displease everyone.

"Alaeddin ben Omar pays you court, Oma," he began. "If he should at any time displease you, or frighten you, you have but to tell him to cease. He will. He is no barbarian. You will anger no one by refusing him or his attentions."

"Thank ye, my lord," Oma replied, "but I am nae afeared of yer big bear of a mate. He hae a soft heart, for all his bl.u.s.ter." Then, with a mischievous little smile, she bowed again and went from the garden, leaving the two together.

" 'Twas kind of ye, Karim al Malina," Zaynab said quietly, glad that her friend would not be forced into an unpleasant situation.

He chuckled. "At first I feared for the little wench, but now I think I should fear for my old friend, Alaeddin ben Omar."

Zaynab laughed. "Oma is strong-minded, yet she is also a kind girl. She longs to taste pa.s.sion, I think. I believe your mate will eventually succeed with her because she wants him to; though perhaps not in his good time, but rather hers."

"Pa.s.sion should indeed come in the woman's time, and not the man's," he agreed, his gaze locking onto hers. Then he took her hand in his, raising it up to his lips to first kiss the upturned palm, and next the tender inside of her perfumed wrist. "Last night you insisted most vehemently that you were ready for a deeper pa.s.sion than I was willing to share with you. Are you still certain that you desire that pa.s.sion, or have you changed your mind, my flower?"

"I dinna know now," she told him. "Last night ye inflamed my senses with yer touch, and I longed to learn more. Now, however, I canna be certain. I dinna feel the same now as then." She made to remove her hand from his, but he would not let her go.

"Come," he said firmly, leading her from the garden. "Let us see if when I inflame your senses again, you feel the same way."

"Perhaps ye will nae inflame me again," she responded coolly, still a little angry with him.

He forced back a chuckle at her tart retort. "I have considered this day upon your history, my beautiful Zaynab," he said as he led her upstairs to their chamber. "I think, perhaps, that you will not successfully learn what I can teach you if you are not settled in your own thoughts with regard to the act of making love. Maidens brought to me for training as Love Slaves are usually virgins. Their knowledge is either limited or nonexistent regarding what transpires between men and women. You, however, are different. You have suffered badly at the hands of two men. You know not how lovely the joining of lovers can be.

"When you finally desire it, my flower, I shall show you that the act of love is both sweet and hot, and wonderful. If you understand that, Zaynab, then we may make better progress in your education."

"Possibly, my lord," she allowed him.

"Now remove your garments for me," he said when they were in the chamber. "The caftan is lovely. Where did you obtain it?"

"Donal Righ," she told him, drawing the silk garment slowly off. "He told Oma that it is Moorish garb, and that we should get used to it. I like it. The feel of silk against my skin is most pleasurable, and far nicer than the linen and wool I am used to wearing."

He nodded in agreement, saying, "Now disrobe me, Zaynab."

"Yes, my lord," she answered, attempting to be obedient. She took the long cloak from his shoulders, laying it carefully across the single chair. Next she unlaced the white silk shirt that he wore, opening it and drawing it off. She felt the temptation to smooth her hands over his muscular chest, but fought it back, instead placing the shirt with the cloak, and turning back to him. Her slender fingers fumbled clumsily with the large buckle on his wide leather belt.

"Let me," he said, his hands covering hers for a moment, causing a wave of heat to wash over her. He pulled the belt off and laid it too upon the chair. "Touch me," he commanded, and she raised startled eyes to him. "If my touch gave you pleasure last night, so can your touch give me pleasure. A man likes the feel of a beautiful woman's hands on his skin, Zaynab," he told her. Then he took her two hands in his and drew them up to his chest.

Tentatively, she began to move her fingers in little circular motions across the expanse of his skin, brushing lightly over the dark down upon his chest. To her surprise, it was not wiry when dry, but soft. Growing a bit bolder, she molded her palms over his broad shoulders, sliding them up and over, then down his long back. "Yer very strong, are ye nae?" she asked him, feeling the muscles beneath her fingertips. His body was hard and gave the impression of great strength. She moved her hands to clasp his narrow waist, and without being asked, she began to draw off his pantaloons, carefully loosening the drawstring, tugging at the waistband, which for some reason would not budge.

"It would be easier if you knelt," he told her.

She obeyed, slipping to her knees before him, careful to keep her eyes averted from his manhood. She did not think she was quite ready to stare it in the eye yet. She let her gaze wander elsewhere. He had wonderful, firm thighs. They were well shaped, and hard to her touch, she discovered as she drew his final garment completely off. As he stepped away, she quickly rose, gathering up the pantaloons, smoothing the fabric neatly, and laying them with his other garments.

" 'Twas not so hard now, was it?" he said with a small smile. Then he drew her into his arms, his lips brushing her pale hair.

Zaynab's heart began to hammer against her ribs. What was it about this man's touch that could render her so confused? "Does a Love Slave always undress her master?" she asked him, trying to regain control of her own emotions.

"If it pleases him. She bathes him as you did me today, and both dresses and undresses him. Everything she does for him is meant to give him pleasure of some sort. She is not simply a concubine. She is more. She must learn how to release her own pa.s.sions so that even if her master is not the best of lovers, he will believe that he is. His mere touch must send her into a swooning fit of pleasure." He tipped her face up to his. "Yet a Love Slave never loses command of the situation, even while in the throes of ecstasy. She is mistress of herself at all times, Zaynab. Do you understand me?"

"I am nae certain," Zaynab said slowly.

"In time you will understand," he told her.

"I must learn to separate my thoughts from my emotions," she said thoughtfully. "Is that the secret to it, Karim al Malina?" She looked up at him questioningly. She really did want to learn. She never again wanted to find herself a victim of any man, even one who called himself her lord and her master. She must control her own destiny as best she could. It was obviously the key to her survival and success.

He nodded in answer to her inquiry, pleased that she had grasped the significance and the subtlety of his words, but then looking into her face, he said, "Have you any idea of how absolutely beautiful you are, Zaynab?"

"I know what I look like," she told him slowly, "for Gruoch, my sister, was said to be identical to me in face and form. Only our eyes were different blues in their shading, but few ever looked. I hae also seen my face in the waters of the loch when it was still. Gruoch often bewailed our lack of a looking gla.s.s. We never saw one, but we were told that they were clear, smooth surfaces where one might look upon oneself. I know I am prettier than most but beautiful?"

"Aye, very beautiful," he a.s.sured her, touching her cheek with just a single finger. "There are many kinds of beauty, Zaynab, but yours is superior. I do not think there is a single woman like you in all of Abd-al Rahman's harem." He pulled her hard against him, his hands reaching down to cup her b.u.t.tocks, feeling the soft give of her thighs as they touched his own.

She put her palms against his chest to steady herself, struggling to draw a breath, for she found herself breathless. Then he smiled down into her eyes, his look enveloping her with its warmth. Zaynab's legs gave way beneath her. Lifting the girl up, he placed her upon the bed. Then kneeling by her side, he looked into her face, saying, "A thoughtless man s.n.a.t.c.hed your maidenhead. Another violated you. But in your heart and soul, Zaynab, you are yet a virgin. This night I shall make love to you as if that maidenhead were yet intact."

His lips touched hers with a gentleness she had never imagined a man capable of. Her heart hammered wildly. Both his words and his actions thrilled her. When he lay next to her, the feather mattress giving way beneath his weight, the mere touch of his naked body against hers almost did set her to swooning. Karim took her hand in his as she lay trembling, waiting for his next move. His words were burning into her brain. You are yet a virgin in your heart and soul. Aye, she was! How had he known it? How could he feel her pain when she herself declined to feel it, hiding it deep inside herself, refusing to acknowledge it? To admit to any weakness just gave others power over you, Zaynab thought bitterly. She had learned that lesson early in her life, when she was but Regan MacDuff, the unwanted daughter.

"A virgin," he said softly, "should be approached with tenderness, never haste." He raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the palm with a lingering kiss that seemed to score her skin. Then he kissed each finger in turn.

Those fingers tarried against his lips. Then, slowly, boldly, Zaynab explored his long, narrow mouth, feeling the faint yielding of the smooth flesh. She pulled away, startled, when he teasingly nibbled upon the curious digits.

Laughing low, he rolled over upon his side to face her. "It is good that you are inquisitive, Zaynab. A virgin always is. It is how she learns both to please and to receive pleasure." His lips found hers again, and his kiss was slow and gentle at first.

Zaynab allowed herself to relax for a brief moment, stiffening only when the kiss became more intense. She sensed his desire, although never before had she truly known it. Her lips parted, allowing him to insert his tongue into her mouth. She felt him seeking, and shyly touched the probing tongue with her own. The sensuous contact sent a great shudder through her body. Her sensibilities peeled as hot flesh stroked hot flesh. She knew that she didn't want the communion between them to end. She was breathless when he finally ceased kissing her, smiling down into her eyes as he did so.

"Did you like it?" he asked, knowing what she would answer, for he had divined her enjoyment.

Zaynab nodded, wide-eyed. "Aye!"

He bent over her again, kissing the tip of her nose, her chin, her forehead, her fluttering eyelids. "Now you do the same," he told her, combining a lesson with her desire to be made love to by him. He lay back.

Raising herself upon her elbow, Zaynab leaned forward, touching his face with her lips; first the high cheekbones, the corners of his mouth, and then, unable to resist, his lips. She could feel a pounding heat beginning to suffuse her body. Her pulses leapt when he wrapped his arms tightly about her, drawing her down so that her round little b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against his chest.

"You're too quick, my flower. Ye have absolutely no self-control," he chided her gently.

"Nay, none," she admitted. "Something drives me, but I dinna know what it is, my lord. Am I very bad?"

"Aye." He grinned. "Totally incorrigible, my jewel. You must be patient. You want too much, too soon. Making love is a fine act. It should be done slowly in order to give and to receive the most pleasure." He rolled her over onto her back, lowering his head to kiss her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Such pretty, saucy little t.i.ts," he told her. "They beg for a caress."

"Aye, they do," she responded boldly.