Silver Angel (24 page)

“I want to put my fingers inside you, Shahar.”

“Oh, God!” she got out before his mouth slanted across hers to add to the whirling of her senses that his words had caused.

Still, she reached for his arm, wrapping her fingers about his wrist. That there was no strength to her tug was not surprising.

“If you don’t give me something, woman, I am going to go mad,” he said against her lips.

His kiss turned fierce, possessive, as if he meant to devour her. She became even weaker under this onslaught, until her hand fell away. His hand immediately slid into her pants, the fingers parting her curls, moving down, finally doing what he said he had wanted to do.

Her reaction was to soar up against him, which allowed his fingers to press even deeper inside her. She clung to him, reeling in the most delicious sensation, mindless of anything except that pleasure.

“Oh, love, you’re so hot, so wet.”

Chantelle melted to his words, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him back with a frantic need. That he had spoken in English didn’t penetrate, she was so inflamed. And he continued to work his
magic, not letting the fever abate for even a moment.

And then suddenly he was lying between her legs and there were no clothes between them. How he had managed it, she didn’t know, couldn’t recall at all. What had brought her to an awareness of it, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps the overall heat of his skin pressed to hers, belly to belly, chest to breast. Perhaps the vulnerability of having her legs parted to accommodate him. Perhaps because he had stopped kissing her for a breathless moment.

But there was no time for panic or fear to take hold. He had only waited for her awareness to crystallize, to see it in her violet eyes, and then he was kissing her again, his tongue plunging deeply. At the same time she felt the exquisite pleasure of his fingers inside her once more…no, not his fingers this time, but him, that part of him she had feared but feared no more.

Slowly, so slowly he entered her, and with such ease, for she was hot with waiting, moist with needing. There was a fullness unlike his fingers, a tightness that was much more delicious for her knowledge of what it was, and then a strange sensation as if something had popped inside her, not actually hurtful, but startling, then an even greater fullness so deep inside her.

His groan mingled with her own as he continued to kiss her, gently now, but no less passionately. He moved in no other way for a moment, and she didn’t mind, savoring this new feeling, knowing instinctively that there would be more. And there was. When his hips began a slow thrusting against her, her heartbeat seemed to pick up the same tempo, accelerating as he did, faster and faster, until she
was jolted with a thunderbolt of liquid sensation so extreme she cried out, her arms tightening around him as he gathered her even closer, his own pulsating climax joining hers.

C
hantelle had drifted into a wondrous limbo where no thoughts could intrude, just a surfeit of feelings, all of them nice. Skin to skin tingling, a pleasant weight, a moist heat at her breasts, a slow heartbeat in her loins, so nice. She could have stayed like that indefinitely, if Jamil hadn’t started to tease, drawing circles around a nipple with his tongue, then blowing cool air on it until it puckered into a hard little nub.

This surge of feeling, though still pleasant, wasn’t quite so relaxing. It seemed to force Chantelle’s hands to that head above her breasts to bring the warm mouth back to her nipple.

“So you are awake?”

She smiled dreamily as he now began to suckle very gently. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

Her fingers delved into his hair, marveling at the baby-fine feel of it. He was lying on her, with his belly pressed into her groin. Finally realizing that sent a sweet sensation curling through her.

Suddenly a hand cupped each breast, and his chin rested between them. “Are you angry with me, little moon?”

She raised an arm to support her head so she could look at him. Angry? Was he serious?

“Do I look angry?”

“I took advantage of you.”

Her lips twitched upward a tad. “Did you?”

“I believe you were sure this would not happen unless we were in my bed.”

“Aren’t we in your bed?”

He grinned at her. “You see my point.”

“Very well, so you took advantage of me.”

“And you liked it?”

“Will you have me drawn and quartered if I don’t give the right answer?” A squeeze to each breast made her forget about teasing him. “Yes, you conceited man. Is that what you want to hear?”

His smile nearly melted her heart. “Do you know how much pleasure it gives me, to know you belong solely to me?”

“I might, if you belonged solely to me as well.” After a moment, the blush spread up her cheeks. God, where had that come from? “What I mean—”

“No, I won’t let you take it back,” he interrupted with a chuckle. “I was right. You English cannot share, can you?”

Whether she could share or not, she didn’t share his humor now. “If you mean we believe in one man for one woman, yes, indeed, we do,” she snapped. “But a man who possesses nearly fifty women wouldn’t understand that!”

“Are you jealous, little moon?”

“Certainly not!”

“Then why should it bother you, how many women I own?”

“It’s indecent!”

“By your standards. By mine, the number is actually quite small.”

She couldn’t argue about that, not when his very religion sanctioned bigamy for the men of this country. He would never understand her views, and would ignore them anyway, so why waste her breath? But it infuriated her, honest to God it did, that his faithlessness was a matter of course here, but heaven forbid
if one of his women should even be looked at by another man.

“I think,” she said with stiff hauteur, “that I should return to the harem.”

“Now you are angry with me.”

“Not at all,” she insisted, though the tight set of her lips put the lie to her words. “I was only anticipating your wishes, since I was told that when you’ve finished with one of your women, you send her away immediately.”

How she had dared to say that, when everything else Vashti had told her about this first time had proved untrue, Chantelle didn’t know. And Jamil apparently didn’t like what he was hearing either. His hands tightened on her unconsciously as he leaned backward, and his expression turned dark and ominous.

“Who told you such a thing?”

Chantelle’s irritation withered under that tone. She might not like Vashti, and had even more reason not to like her now that she knew the girl had deliberately lied to her, but she wouldn’t wish Jamil’s anger and retribution on anyone, knowing full well what forms of punishment he could so casually have administered.

“What does it matter?” she evaded.

“Who?”

“I don’t recall.”

His eyes narrowed even more at her stubbornness. “And what else were you told?”

“Nothing,” and then more firmly, “Really.” But she might as well have saved her breath.

“Things to make you fear me?” he guessed correctly. “Who do I have to thank for prolonging my frustration? Who was assigned to instruct you?”

She knew he could find out easily without her telling him. If he was going to be furious with anyone, it might as well be with her. Vashti’s lies had not accounted for all her fears, after all.

“You’re wrong, your highness.” She reverted to formality, their intimate position forgotten for the moment. “Nothing that was told to me could have made me fear you more than your own actions had done.”

“You still think I would hurt you?” he demanded, more in amazement than in anger.

“You’re hurting me now,” she replied quietly.

He finally became aware of the flesh he was squeezing in his agitation and released her breasts, instantly contrite. But she didn’t give him a chance to apologize.

“However,” she continued, “that was still not the cause of my reluctance to share your bed. I was raised to believe that no virtuous woman would give her virginity to any man other than her lawful husband. To do otherwise would cause shame and ruin.”

“I am your lawful master.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“The only man available to you, Shahar, the same as a husband to you.”

“No, not the same. You bought me. You didn’t marry me.”

“You want me to marry you?”

She was appalled by the very idea. “And be your fourth wife? No!”

She was further appalled to realize too late that she had just insulted him in the worst way. But thankfully, he chose not to take offense, saying only, “So there is yet another reason for this reluctance of yours to make love with me?”

She glanced away before replying in a tiny voice, “It made it—final, my enslavement.”

His own voice softened in understanding. “It became inevitable the day you were captured, Shahar. Surely you did not delude yourself otherwise.”

“Until it actually happened, there was still hope. You have a large harem filled with beautiful women. And since you rarely enter it, you could easily have forgotten about me.”

He smiled, turning her face back to him with a hand on her cheek. “You are not the type of woman who can ever hope for obscurity, little moon. A man has only to gaze on you once to never forget you. Don’t you know that?”

She shook her head. “By your standards, my body is much too thin to be found attractive.”

A teasing light entered his eyes. “You might be lacking in padding, but what you have is everything that I could want.”

“You don’t want me to put on weight?”

“I want you to remain just as you are.”

“Then if I do put on weight, you won’t want me anymore?”

He chuckled, following the direction of her thoughts. “I could have sworn I heard you say you liked what we just did. Or have you perhaps forgotten so quickly that you no longer have your virginity to protect?”

She blushed, for she had indeed forgotten for the moment that that monumental transformation had occurred to change everything, especially her outlook. How she felt about it she wasn’t quite sure yet. But one thing was disconcerting. She hadn’t expected to enjoy it so completely. But it was foolish of her to
admit liking it, especially to him. The man had her at enough disadvantage as it was without giving him that, too.

Having gone from satisfied languor to anger to dejection to confusion was also disconcerting. She wanted nothing more than to leave so she could be alone to think more clearly about her loss. She certainly couldn’t think clearly with Jamil still settled comfortably between her legs. Why
was
she still here? That he slept with only his wives was not one of Vashti’s lies, but fact that she had heard from numerous sources. Of course, he didn’t appear to be ready to sleep.

“You have become pensive, little moon.” His voice drew her gaze back to those probing emerald eyes. “I will not allow you to regret your surrender.”

His arrogance was almost amusing. “You might own my body, your highness, but my feelings are still at my own command.”

“Are they? And your senses, are they at your command, too?”

He dipped his head to suck a nipple into the warm recesses of his mouth. Chantelle closed her eyes as the delicious thrill traveled from her breast to her belly, and from there to her loins. The other breast was given the same thorough attention, until her fingers moved into his hair, answering his question more plainly than words.

Abruptly he left her, only to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to his bed. The momentary respite to her senses brought her out of her daze long enough so that the bed beneath her triggered a memory, and she immediately glanced behind her. How could she have forgotten about his guards? But the hot flush
didn’t have time to spread. The wall behind his bed was empty.

“Where are your mutes?” she asked as she looked back at Jamil and then gasped, finding him staring down at her, his eyes slowly traveling the length of her body.

“Banished to the garden in deference to your modesty.”

He himself was playing havoc with her modesty, since he spoke without ending his slow perusal of her body. That same modesty forbade her a like examination of him. Though he stood beside the bed in full view of her, her eyes wouldn’t move below his chin.

“Am—am I to understand you aren’t finished with me yet?”

Even that question didn’t bring his eyes back to hers. “Oh, no, little moon,” he said with feeling. “How could you think that? Such frustration as you have caused me will take a long time appeasing.”

“I find this frustration you keep expounding on hard to believe when you have so many women available to you.”

It was her terse tone that finally got his attention. He smiled and joined her on the bed, stretching out next to her so that she felt the heat of his body along her entire side. One hand cupped her cheek and slid up into her hair to bring her mouth to his for a disturbingly gentle kiss.

“You think another could put out the fire you ignited?” His lips moved on to the side of her neck, ending by her ear, causing an explosion of hot, liquid pleasure that shot clear to her toes. “I have been able to think of no one but you since my eyes first beheld
you. How then could I invite another to my bed, Shahar? Only you would do.”

She chose to believe him, because those words were as inflaming as the tongue delving into her ear. Once more all thoughts deserted her as she gave herself up to the pleasure of his touch.

“D
o you mind if I join you?”

Chantelle shrugged without raising her cheek from the heated marble slab. “Not at—” Her head snapped up, for that was her own language she had heard, clear and precise. “Are you from England, too?”

It was Jamila, one of the other five
ikbals
, who unself-consciously opened her robe and lay down next to Chantelle on the warm marble shelf in the center of the communal chamber. She was naked beneath the robe, and her full, young breasts jutted out as she anchored herself on both elbows. That Chantelle was just as naked beneath her robe to enjoy the heat was precisely why she wouldn’t assume that position.

“I thought someone would have told you,” Jamila said with a smile. “My family is from Gloucester, though I was pretty much raised in London.”

“No, no one mentioned it. I thought Rahine was the only other Englishwoman here. Why didn’t you say something when you came to visit me the other day with Lady Sheelah?”

“It was Sheelah who taught me to speak Turkish, but it’s taken me so long to learn that she still insists I speak nothing else until I get it right. She’s so patient with me, but I was never very good at languages. My French teacher almost despaired of me.”

“But this is wonderful, to hear the mother tongue again. I’m so glad—” Chantelle flinched. “I don’t mean that I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t wish this enslavement on anyone.”

“No, I understand. I was sorry to see you arrive, and for the same reason.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long, really. Just over six months. I was the last woman to enter the harem until you arrived. And there was such a row over that, I thought surely there wouldn’t be any others. Everyone thought so, too, which was why you were such a surprise.”

“A row?”

“Oh, yes.” Jamila grinned, remembering. “I can laugh about it now, but I was terrified at the time. The Dey was so furious with his mother, he didn’t even wait until they were alone to chastise her, but came right into the harem to do it. I was sure I would be sold again or worse.”

“But why should you be sold again if he bought you? What was he angry about?”

“
He
didn’t buy me. Lalla Rahine did.” And then Jamila frowned. “I thought you knew. The Dey hasn’t bought a woman for himself in five years, not since he came to realize how much Sheelah meant to him. More than half the women here have been given to him or purchased by his mother. It was when she bought me that he finally laid down the law and told her absolutely no more.” She giggled. “He’s not like those other Turks and Arabs who think the more the merrier. He actually exhausts himself to assure that none of his women are neglected for any great length of time. So you can see why he might be upset to find his harem growing any larger.”

Chantelle refrained from snorting at that observation. What was she doing here, then, if he didn’t want any more women to wear him out? She recalled their first encounter and how he had seemed so indifferent to her. If he had stayed like that, she could understand
what Jamila had told her. But there was last week. There was last night. There were his words that she had believed and still did, that he hadn’t made love to any of his other women since he’d first seen her.

Yes, last night. He hadn’t let her go until the dawn, and neither of them had slept at all during the long hours of the night. She had lost count of how many times they had made love, how many times his voice and touch had stirred the embers that he never quite let die out. She had returned to her rooms to sleep the morning away, exhausted, but with a contentment she hadn’t tried to analyze yet. She still hadn’t really thought about it, preferring to savor a while what she was feeling before she picked it apart to understand why she wasn’t upset or even a little disappointed at her own easy surrender.

“You can understand why there’s so much speculation since he’s bought you,” Jamila continued, playing with a lock of her dark brown hair, flicking it against her cheek and lips. “Everyone’s wondering if he simply couldn’t resist you or if your coming signifies a change, that there’ll be more after you to fill the ranks.”

Chantelle was not about to consider that when there were so many other, more important questions she was avoiding. A change of subject was in order.

“Do you miss home, Jamila?”

“Oh, yes. I can’t seem to get used to the inactivity here. I was always so busy at home, making the rounds, you know. There never was enough time in a day to fulfill all of my commitments. Here there’s too much time with nothing to do. I was convinced the boredom would have me fit for Bedlam, but of course, that was because it took so long for the Dey to get over his anger and finally notice me.” She
leaned closer and lowered her voice to confide, “I’ve only been an
ikbal
this past month, but it’s made all the difference. Now there’s the anticipation of never knowing when I might be summoned, but knowing I will be because the Dey never ignores his favorites for more than a week. The wait is exciting, the day I’m actually summoned so thrilling, with everyone so envious. But you know that now. He’s such a wonderful lover, isn’t he?”

Yes, wonderful. There was no denying it to herself, and certainly not to any of his women who knew firsthand that it was so. Chantelle shied away from that thought, remembering again Jamil’s words that had assured her he had been with no other woman.

Jamila hadn’t waited for confirmation of her last statement. She was still rambling on. “Poor Sheelah doesn’t know what to think, as you might imagine. She loves him so.”

“Do you?” Chantelle couldn’t resist asking.

The brunette shrugged. “I don’t know, really. Each time I’m with him, I think surely I must love him. I was so relieved when I first saw him, that he wasn’t old, or fat, or ugly. And having seen him, I thought I would die, waiting for him to notice me. Actually, I can’t think of a single man of my acquaintance in England who can compare with him, he’s so handsome. But—” She paused for a moment and glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing of them before she whispered, “If I could be ransomed tomorrow, I wouldn’t be disappointed to leave here. The Dey is wonderful and kind and so sexy, and I’ve been so lucky that I was bought for him rather than someone else, but I’d rather have a man I could call my own, who would be available to me anytime I wanted him. I guess I’m a little selfish.”

“Not at all,” Chantelle assured her. “It’s the way we were raised.”

“Then you don’t like it either, having to share him?”

Chantelle didn’t care to answer that. She said instead, “All our lives we’ve taken it for granted that we would marry, and naturally we expected to be our husband’s one and only love.”

“Exactly.” Jamila beamed. “No one else will admit that. But then they’ve all been here so much longer and are accustomed to this arrangement. I suppose we will be, too, when the years start rolling by. But it’s a shame.” She giggled and rolled her eyes. “With what I’ve learned here, I don’t think any husband of mine would be bored and out looking for a mistress too soon.”

Chantelle grinned despite herself. “No, I don’t think he would.”

“But I’m not likely to ever find out.” Jamila finally laid her head down on her crossed arms with a sigh. “Sheelah was the lucky one. I thought surely the Dey really loved her. Oh, he gives to the rest of us of his body, but to her he gave from the heart. It was so romantic watching them together,” Another sigh. “You could see the difference last week, though, when he joined us all for Noura’s little party. It was the first time I’d ever seen him divide his attention so equally between us when Sheelah was present. She was crushed.”

Chantelle frowned. She had spoken with the first
kadine
several times since that infamous feast that she had helped to prepare, but not once had she sensed any great unhappiness in her.

Jamila’s eyes were closed now, so she didn’t see how this bit of gossip had affected Chantelle. She
blithely continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Noura had hoped something like that would happen. She’s always hated Sheelah for being the Dey’s first wife and would do or say anything if she thought it would hurt her. I ought to warn you if no one else has, to watch out for Noura. Everyone swears she tried to kill Sheelah’s son after her own was born, but it could never be proved.”

“Are you serious, Jamila?”

“Mmm.” Her eyes popped open. “Oh! I didn’t mean to frighten you. You surely don’t have anything to worry about, at least for a while. Noura’s worst spite is reserved for those who have born the Dey’s children. I just wanted to warn you so you wouldn’t take anything she says to heart.”

“I appreciate it, but I’ve already taken her measure. A more vindictive woman I’ve never met.”

“That’s Noura.” Jamila grinned. “You just have to learn to ignore her, as everyone else does.”

“I will,” Chantelle replied. “But what about Sheelah? Why was she so nice to me when she must hate me—”

“Oh, no! You mustn’t think that. She isn’t capable of hating anyone, not even Noura. Sheelah just isn’t that way.”

Why did that make Chantelle feel terrible instead of relieved? “If you say so.”

“Oh, dear, I’ve upset you, haven’t I? I didn’t mean to, really I didn’t.”

“It’s all right, Jamila.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?”

“Not at all.”

“Good, because I was so hoping we could be friends. But you mustn’t feel guilty about Sheelah. She wouldn’t want that. And it’s not exactly as if you
were the ‘other woman.’” Jamila chuckled here. “How could you be when there are
so many
other women?”

“But she’s his wife.”

“One of three wives, and we’re his favorites, and he doesn’t neglect the other concubines for long either. That’s life here. Whoever he favors for the moment is the lucky one. You must enjoy it while it lasts.”

Meaning it wouldn’t last? Chantelle didn’t voice that question. “I don’t like being the cause of someone else’s hurt.”

“Oh, but you’re not,” the girl assured her. “Why, Jamil summoned Sheelah the day before he first summoned you to him. And she’ll likely be the first one he wants as soon as he gives you a rest, so don’t worry about her. Even if he does come to favor you above her, she’ll still be next after you. After all, she bore him his first son and he absolutely adores the boy. She’s only been upset by the difference in the way he has behaved toward her since you’ve been visiting him. She just wasn’t expecting it.”

Chantelle hadn’t heard much after that second sentence. “Do you mean that he made love to Sheelah
after
he bought me?”

“Well, of course he did,” Jamila said in surprise. “You were in training, if you remember, so he couldn’t very well summon you, though that was certainly cut short, wasn’t it? But as I recall, he still called Sheelah to him the night he bought you. And actually, I had the next night, which was a relief to me, because I thought I’d be the first to go when you became a favorite. As it turned out, Mara was sent back instead. It was only after he first summoned you that he called no one else to him. You don’t know
how lucky you are, Shahar, to have him to yourself for a whole week. I managed only two days in a row my first time before Sheelah was back in his bed.”

Chantelle closed her eyes and counted silently to ten. She mustn’t let this news disturb her. Just because it appeared Jamil had lied to her didn’t mean he actually had, or that it had been deliberate. He hadn’t precisely said that he hadn’t made love to anyone else. He had asked her how he could invite another to his bed. Well, he could, obviously. He had only implied that it wasn’t likely.

No, no, she mustn’t think he deliberately meant to deceive her. Perhaps he had meant to say that he hadn’t been able to think of anyone but her since he first summoned her, rather than when he first saw her, and Jamila had just confirmed that that at least was true. And besides, hadn’t she assumed he was still sleeping with his wives even while he was seeing her? She hadn’t let that stop her from surrendering to him. Oh, but it had been so romantic to hear him say that only she would do from the moment his eyes had first beheld her.

Those words were more than a little responsible for her contentment this morning and had gone a long way toward making her ignore the fact that she wasn’t Jamil’s only concubine. Everyone here was sharing him with her, but that she hadn’t as yet shared him with anyone made a great deal of difference. It made all the difference, actually.

She would just have to ask him about it when she joined him tonight. If he could assure her that there wouldn’t be anyone else…

“Oh!” Jamila squealed suddenly, only to end on a less ecstatic note. “Oh, dear. Are you sure?”

Chantelle glanced at her to find a servant squatted next to her and whispering in her ear. “What is it?”

“I’ve been summoned for tonight,” the brunette said in amazement. “I wasn’t expecting…well, no one would have expected…he must be angry with Sheelah for some reason to ignore her like this. Yes, that must be it.” She sat up, grinning delightedly. “Oh, but I certainly can’t complain. I thought I would have to wait weeks and weeks to have my turn again, what with you here now.” She placed a hand excitedly on Chantelle’s arm. “Be happy for me, Shahar. I do so like this business of making love.” And then she was off, pulling her servant along toward the bath cubicles.

Chantelle didn’t move or even breathe for a moment, until she realized her stupid eyes were starting to water.
Oh, God, don’t you dare!

She put her head down and managed to inconspicuously wipe each eye against her forearms before she jumped up. She had to get out of this crowded room immediately, and she didn’t dare risk the long walk back to her rooms along paths just as crowded. No one, not anyone at all, was going to be able to say she had seen Chantelle the least bit disturbed by how quickly the Dey had lost interest in her. Quickly? No, most everyone thought she had been sharing his bed all week, which would make it even worse if the women believed she was upset to lose that privilege now.
Privilege, ha!
God, what an utter fool she had been!