Page 30 of Silver Angel

“Then I will.”

Omar shook his head. “His pride is at stake here. He hopes that you are a man such as he, that you would not touch another’s wife no matter the reason. But for what he asks you to do for him, he cannot deny you anything, even her. Giving you the choice is the risk he takes in leaving you here in his place. He must feel that he risks something, as you do. You cannot take that from him. Besides”—Omar grinned—“this is the incentive he needs to return quickly.”

But what agony would he suffer in the meantime? Derek wondered.

Tonight, a half-dozenikbalsand all three of Jamil’s wives had been invited to take dinner with him. For some, it was the first time they were seeing him with his newly shaved face, which had caused a considerable stir in the palace and did now among his women. Some were surprised, some delighted, which naturally annoyed Jamil, to Derek’s amusement. But he could not stay annoyed for long, not surrounded by the crème de la crème of his women.

The atmosphere of competition among theikbalswas fierce: who could hold Jamil’s attention the longest, find the choicest meat for him, make him laugh. His wives competed just among themselves, it seemed, and only Lady Sheelah had no need to, she who sat next to Jamil and was herself fed by him.

One of the concubines got up and danced to the tune that two blind musicians were playing. It was a sight to delight the senses. These women were the most lovely in the harem, Jamil’s favorites. Here, with only his personal attendants on hand, they did not have to veil themselves. All were scantily attired except one, who wore a flowing caftan to conceal her advanced pregnancy. The others were adorned in bright silks, each a different color, and sheer gauzes. Jewels glittered and tinkled about their necks, their wrists, their ankles, some even about their waists, which glistened bare between the short vests and pantaloons.

“Do any take your fancy?” asked Omar, beside him.

“All take my fancy,” Derek answered, though with a degree of hesitation.

It was true, however. In beauty of features, in pure sensuality, they were incomparable. If they were each a bit more plump and curvaceous than he was used to, it didn’t matter. He had not forgotten the harem he was raised in, where half the women had gone to fat in their lazy existence and the other half would would join them eventually. It was a condition prevalent in harems and was no doubt why the Muslim male had acquired a taste for plumpness in his women.

Derek might have been raised to see beauty in the same light, but he had been awakened to manhood by the slim little bodies of overworked English maids, and his taste in women was now decidedly English. Not that each one of Jamil’s women couldn’t raise his libido, and no doubt many would in the coming weeks. These favorites certainly did. It was just that his preferences were different from his brother’s, and he doubted he would find his ideal in Jamil’s harem.

Which was just as well. They were, after all, his brother’s women. He would not, could not, feel right about taking any of them to his bed, no matter how much Omar, and Jamil himself, insisted it was necessary.

“You will see all of the women tomorrow,” Omar told him, wishing he could see Kasim’s expression to know exactly what he was feeling, rather than depending on his tone of voice to tell him, difficult to judge when they had to speak in whispers. “They have been invited for an afternoon of games and entertainments in the garden. It will be your opportunity to choose those you favor.”

Derek grunted in response. Yes, he would have to learn their names if he was going to summon them to his bed, and it would not be Omar who handled such things later, but the Chief Black Eunuch, the man in control of all those who served the harem.

“What happens to those women I so favor after Jamil returns?” Derek suddenly wanted to know.

Omar did not answer immediately, and then not at all, as a servant entered to whisper a message to Jamil. With a single word from him, his women quickly left. A few moments later, the Chief Black Eunuch came into the room, followed by three of his minions, each dragging forward a woman who was immediately forced to her knees in the traditional prostration of respect before the Dey. One protested this, until her guard jabbed a knee into her back to keep her down.

The Chief Black Eunuch spoke softly to Jamil, bringing forth a chuckle from his master. “So my Grand Vizier was wrong for once.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Derek heard Omar stir beside him. “What were you wrong about, Omar, that he finds so amusing?” There was a mumble, and Derek almost laughed aloud, imagining the old man flushing in embarrassment. “Come now, I can’t hear you.”

“I said,” Omar bit out, “Jamil’s delighted that I was proved wrong in this instance.”

“About what?”

“There was a special slave offered to him before you arrived. He declined as usual. I assumed she would have been quickly sold, so I saw no reason to hurry Haji Agha to the slave markets when Jamil requested some new women, especially since the next slave caravan from the south wasn’t due until yesterday.”

“Herequested new women? I was under the impression he feels he already possesses too many.”

“True. These women are for you.”

Derek did chuckle now, though softly in understanding. “I suppose the harem is to have some new favorites so that I don’t work my way through all ofhis.”

“It can safely be assumed that that is his hope, though he will not admit it. And obviously, the special one he previously declined was still available, proving me wrong. Fortunately, these few extra days did not see her sold, or he would not be so amused now.”

Which one was supposed to be special was anyone’s guess, for all three women were cloaked and heavily veiled, having just come from the city. But Derek was not hopeful and could not dredge up even the slightest interest after having seen Jamil’s beauties. The Muslim’s idea of “special” was probably “already pleasingly plump,” with the fairness of coloring that was so prized here. Anything else would be considered ordinary.

Chapter Seventeen

Chantelle had made a bad mistake, but she didn’t realize it until she was shoved to her knees to pay homage to the Grand Turk, or whatever he was, and she heard Haji Agha address him as “my gracious lord.” It was inconceivable that the man she had thought had bought her for himself would show her off to his own master. No, she was very much afraid she had been bought for this other fellow, whom she was at this moment being forced to bow down to.

Thatwent against the grain, and she had very nearly resisted being pushed to the floor until she saw what happened to the black girl beside her, who did resist. It was unfair that brute strength could so easily win the argument. What was the point of going through that when she would only lose in the end and her pride suffer even more? She had put up with enough indignities lately that one more seemed inconsequential.

It would have been nice, though, if she had been told what was going on instead of being left to draw her own wrong conclusions. When she had left Hamid Sharif’s, it had been to climb into one of four waiting litters, which had been her first disappointment. She had hoped that she would be walking through the city as she had done before and that there might somehow be an opportunity to slip away. But with all the litter bearers, not to mention a small contingent of mounted guards, that hope had become an impossibility.

She tried peeking out of the curtains that enclosed her in the litter, but was shouted at by one of the guards riding alongside her, so she gave up trying to see where they were going. It was uphill. She could determine that at least. But then the path leveled out, and there was the opening and closing of gate after gate, making her think she was leaving the city, until the litter was set down soon after.