The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (2 page)

Badra washed, dressed and subjected herself to the woman’s gentle touch as she brushed her hair. "You are quite beautiful," Asriyah commented. "My nephew will be pleased."

Badra tensed, thinking of the horrors to come.

The sheikh’s aunt escorted her out to the largest tent. Badra removed her sandals. Sucking in a deep breath, she walked inside the tent’s main room, her feet treading noiselessly on a thick jewel-toned carpet. Wind blew softly through the enclosure from the partly rolled-up flaps. Jabari sat cross-legged on the floor next to the warrior she’d heard called Nazim. The men ate dates from a bowl on the floor and talked and laughed. Badra studied her new master with care. He was much younger than she’d first thought, somewhere in his twenties. Quite handsome and tall, with long black hair spilling from beneath his indigo turban. She prayed the ebony eyes would hold kindness, that he would show a little of the warmth she’d glimpsed yesterday.

Jabari glanced up. A reassuring smile touched his mouth. His manner seemed gentle.

"Nazim," he said in husky voice. "Leave us."

The warrior gave his sheikh a grin and a wink and left. Badra trembled. Jabari invited her to sit and offered her a date. She took one as he talked. His voice was deep and soothing, but she heard little. Sweat trickled down her back. Her stomach pitched as he unfolded his muscled body and stood. "Come," he told her, holding out his hand.

The sheikh led her to a back room. A massive bed stood near one tent wall. She knew what he wanted. Her heart thudded.

"Undress for me," he instructed softly.

Moisture dampened her palms. Badra bit her lip, filled with revulsion. But if she did not obey, this man might flog her as Fareeq had. The sheikh’s broad shoulders hinted at muscle that could wield a whip harder than Fareeq. She felt helpless.

Her shaking fingers tugged off her indigo
kuftan
and stripped off the underlying
kamis
shirt and wide, blousy trousers. Naked, she stood before Jabari, displaying what Fareeq had coveted since eyeing her at the Pleasure Palace, the brothel where her parents had sold her. The sheikh’s jaw dropped.

"Allah," he said hoarsely. "You are lovely."

She hated this. Hated herself. Badra tried to quell the horror that the lusty gleam in his dark eyes sent through her. He put a palm upon her breast.

No! Not again! She could not. Terrified, she jerked away. Nowhere to run. Badra felt trapped. Instinct drove her into the tent corner. She crumpled on the carpet and crouched, facing the wall. Her arms wrapped about her for protection.

Maybe if she curled up very tightly and made no noise he would leave her alone. Violent shivers racked her.

"Badra, what is wrong? What are you doing?" Bewilderment filled the sheikh’s voice.

Badra crawled further into the corner. She felt humiliated and ashamed. Yet she could not stop.

"Do not be afraid of me," he said.

Air brushed her naked skin as he lifted her hair. A warm hand suddenly settled over her exposed back, upon the deepest of the scars carved there. She flinched. Badra stuffed a fist into her mouth to stifle a scream.

No noise. Noise meant he’d hit her harder.

"Allah," the sheikh said in a shocked voice. "That fat jackal of a bastard, what did he do to your back?"

Badra whimpered.

"Please, Badra, come out. I will not hurt you."

Lies. Always the lies.
Of course you say you will not hurt me. Then you do. Oh please, don’t touch me. I cannot bear it.

Jabari’s words became a buzz in her ears. She peeked and saw him offer her clothing. Another trick. He would offer covering and then rip it off. And beat her. And laugh.

Finally the sheikh stood. She heard him leave. A few minutes later, he returned and she heard Farah’s voice.

"She will not say a word to me. What did that bastard do to this poor girl?" Jabari said.

"Badra hasn’t spoken in months to anyone. She was our master’s favorite. He enjoyed ... flogging her."

Farah crouched down. Badra stole a peek.

"Badra, stop this before the sheikh becomes angry," her friend pleaded. "He is a skillful lover, much more than our master. Why, the Khamsin sheikh’s member is far larger than our master’s. Like the towering obelisks of Egypt it is—"

"Thank you," the sheikh said dryly. "You may leave now. Call Nazim in."

He followed Farah out to the tent’s main section. Badra heard a man’s footsteps and a deep, cheerful voice.

"Do you need assistance, sire? Advice? I had thought you would need no instructions in this matter."

"Stop joking, Nazim. Badra ran into a corner and will not come out. Farah attempted to reassure her—by telling her my member is large as the obelisks of Egypt."

"Ah, very reassuring. And not true." Nazim chuckled.

"The girl is terrified. Fareeq flogged her. Come and see if you can work your famous charm to coax her out."

Badra heard them enter the bedchamber. She squeezed her eyes shut. If Jabari wanted her, he’d have to force her. No words would move her from the slim safety of the corner.

"Look, she’s shivering, poor girl. I should carve my dagger into that bastard Fareeq for what he has done," Nazim said quietly.

Opening one eye, Badra saw the man lean over, heard him murmur something soothing. Compassion shone in his odd, whiskey-colored eyes, but she knew looks could deceive. He touched her bare arm.

She shrieked and huddled further into the corner.

A heavy sigh rushed from Nazim. "She has too much fear, Jabari. I advise you to be gentle with her. Give her time."

She heard him leave, then the sheikh sat nearby.

"I see we are at an impasse, Badra." Jabari said quietly. "But I am a patient man, and I will wait for you to come out. As long as it takes."

Two hours. What was Jabari doing to her?

He had counted every minute since the sheikh took the new girl Badra into his tent. Finally Khepri could take it no longer. He stood near Jabari’s quarters, fashioning a new harness for a farmer’s donkey. Irritated, he frowned at two warriors exchanging sly grins and glancing at the sheikh’s tent. Ribald remarks about Jabari’s sexual prowess followed—not all of them positive. Jabari needed to prove himself, still. He was only twenty-three and had assumed leadership barely two months ago. Bedding Fareeq’s concubines would gain the warriors’ respect.

"Two hours! Our sheikh is a strong man," one said.

Khepri grimaced. Seeing him, the other warrior laughed. He said to the first, "Look, his brother already is thinking how to surpass him. Always determined to be the best. I hear fathers lock their daughters away when Khepri visits the village. They have seen how his mistress cannot walk straight for days after being with him. Perhaps our sheikh will do the same to his new concubine."

Khepri’s insides twisted. The little concubine called Badra had seemed terrified. Her dark eyes had begged for help. Pity and an odd protective feeling stabbed him. He too, had quivered with fear when he came to the Khamsin, his parents’ death screams still ringing in his ears.

To cover his agitation, and any noise of coupling inside the sheikh’s tent, he began to sing. He tried not to think about Jabari bedding Badra. She belonged to the sheikh and he was foolish to covet her. Yet he couldn’t help the jealousy stinging him like a cactus needle.

Her muscles ached. Badra dared not move. The sheikh studied a sheaf of papers. Her body ached from huddling in one position so long. But here was safety.

A horrid noise sounded outside. It sounded like someone ... singing? Somehow, Badra realized it was the man she’d ridden with. It was Khepri. He sounded worse than a braying donkey. As if to confirm her thoughts, a donkey brayed. Her lips twitched with sudden mirth.

"He sounds like a camel farting," Jabari muttered.

The warrior sang louder. The donkey made an unmistakably rude noise. Badra smothered a laugh.

"Stubborn beast! I am the fiercest warrior in Egypt. Have you no respect?" Khepri yelled. His frustration was apparent.

This time, Badra’s giggle escaped. Jabari looked at her.

"He makes you laugh, does he?"

She could not help a small smile.

"Badra, if you like Khepri, I can bring him here. I would truly enjoy seeing you smile again. Would you like that?"

She gnawed on her lip, considering. Khepri seemed gentle and protective. Safer than the sheikh. Her mind worked frantically. The sheikh seemed a proud man. He would not accost her in front of Khepri. She nodded.

"If I bring him inside, you must get dressed and come out of the corner," he cajoled.

Badra hesitated, staring at the clothing the sheikh held in his outstretched hands. Was this a trick? His expression looked encouraging. She snatched the
kuftan
and tugged it on.

Her muscles screamed in protest as she stood. Her legs felt wobbly, but she cautiously followed Jabari to the tent’s main room. The sheikh went to the tent door. "Khepri, come in here immediately. Your noises can be heard to the Sinai."

Then Jabari turned. The smile he gave softened the stern lines about his face. Perhaps he wasn’t such a beast, Badra thought.

The summoned Khamsin warrior trudged inside, looking sullen.

"Apologize to my concubine for your rudeness," Jabari commanded. "Your singing has hurt her ears. It is worse than listening to your donkey pass wind."

Khepri scowled, then saw the sheikh’s mocking grin. He offered Badra a charming smile.

"I apologize for the noises you heard, but the donkey is the rude one. He does not believe in the artistry of my voice, so he teases me—like my brother." He winked.

A small giggle escaped her.

"You mock my pain," he teased her. "But I assure you, Jabari sings no better. Shall I ask him to demonstrate?"

"Don’t ask the singer to sing until he wishes to sing by himself," she croaked, remembering the ancient Arab proverb.

The words, the first she had spoken since losing her baby and all hope, shocked her. Her voice sounded cracked and dry. Jabari’s jaw dropped. Khepri smiled.

Apprehension slid from her. She realized the sheikh had moved back, giving her much-needed space. When he told Khepri to leave and to summon Nazim, rolling up the tent flaps fully to expose the room to the outside air, she no longer felt afraid. He made no move to touch her but spoke quietly.

"Badra, I cannot change the past and what Fareeq did to you. But I promise you, it will not happen again under my care."

Nazim appeared, smiling with delight upon seeing her. The sheikh beckoned for both he and Badra to sit on the carpet near stacked camel saddles, away from listening ears. She obeyed cautiously.

"Nazim, I cannot make her my concubine. I did not, and will not bed her, seeing what Fareeq did. Farah will, ah, keep me occupied enough."

Nazim looked worried. "Sire, the men believe you are pleased with her, since she was here for two hours."

Jabari frowned. "I see you were counting the minutes."

"Every man was," Nazim said. "The entire tribe is talking of your ... astounding skills. If you do not claim her as your concubine, you shame her." But his look said what words did not:
You will shame yourself.

A frustrated sigh fled the sheikh. He studied her. "Then, Badra, I will call you my concubine, but in name only. You will not share my bed. You are under my protection. Do you understand? You no longer belong to Fareeq."

"You are wrong," she replied in a broken whisper. "I will always belong to Fareeq. He will never stop looking for me. You and your men are in grave danger."

Nazim put a hand on his scimitar’s hilt, and spoke. "Listen to me, Badra. We have long been enemies with the Al-Hajid. They have never defeated us in battle, nor will they. I vow this, as does every warrior in this tribe."

"You cannot stop him from coming for me," she insisted.

"Then I will give you a strong warrior to watch over you, to safeguard your every step so you feel secure," Jabari assured her. "Khepri leads my
saqrs
, my falcon guards. I am appointing him as your protector. Wherever you go, he will remain with you. He is a brave warrior. I trust him absolutely and you should. You are Fareeq’s slave no longer."