The Love Slave (31 page)

“Why do you not wear a beard?” she asked him innocently. “So many Moors are bearded, but you are not, my lord. Why is that?” She could feel his arousal beneath her. The restorative was obviously most potent.

“I am fair-haired,” he explained. “When my ancestors came to al-Andalus two centuries ago, we were Arabs from Baghdad and Damascus. All of us were dark-haired and dark-eyed, but we have a weakness for fair-haired women. Over the centuries my family has intermarried with light-haired, light-eyed slave girls. Both my mother and my grandmother were Galacians from the northwest. My coloring is more theirs. When I grow a beard it is red-blond, and I look like a foreigner. It is better that I remain clean-shaven, for my features are those of an Arab.”

Reaching out, she caressed his face provocatively. “I like your face, my lord,” she purred at him truthfully. He had an elegant head with high cheekbones, a strong nose, and a narrow sensuous mouth.

“You are a little witch, Zaynab,” he told her, playfully tweaking her nipples. Then, with a swift motion, he reached
up, rolled her beneath him, and laid his body atop hers. “And you are a very naughty tease, my lovely one. You must learn who is master here. I fear I must chastise you,” he told her, his mouth coming down hard on hers. He kissed her slowly, completely, his lips moving from her lips to her face to her neck. His mouth scorched her skin as it followed the line of her throat. Gently, he nipped at her ear, murmuring in it, “I do not think I shall ever tire of you, Zaynab.” Then he entered her slowly, tenderly. “You are meant only for love, and I mean to love you. You will pleasure me as no other woman ever has, and I will pleasure you as no youth possibly can.”

She had not expected such strength from him. To her surprise, she found him a wonderful lover. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to belong to him after all. He was not unkind. He had promised to try not to use her again in that way she disliked. She tightened the muscles of her sheath about his manhood, and he groaned with delight. “Does that please you, my lord?” she asked him, knowing his answer already.

He responded by increasing his rhythm, and she gasped. “Does this please you?” he countered.

Together they taunted and challenged each other with one erotic game after another until both collapsed, satisfied for the moment. Abd-al Rahman held Zaynab in his embrace, chuckling. She was wonderful! This morning he had welcomed spring, and longed for a new adventure, a new love. Well, he had certainly found it with Zaynab.

“Why do you laugh, my lord?” she asked him.

“Because, my lovely, I am happy,” he answered her. “Happy for the first time in a long while. Do not let anyone tell you you have not found favor with me, Zaynab, because you have. Tomorrow I shall have you moved to a larger apartment that suits your status.”

“No, my lord, let me stay here,” she begged him. “These little rooms suit me. If you will but let me have the services of a gardener, I shall soon have my little garden blooming.”

“You like these rooms?” He was surprised.

“The lady Walladah gave them to me because I demanded my own apartment, my lord, but she chose a place at the farthest
end of the harem to punish what she considered my arrogance. However, I like it here. It is private, and few can spy on me,” she told him. “If you move me to a suite of rooms amid the rest of the harem, I shall never have any privacy,
nor will you
. Each time we cry with pleasure, it will be heard, and it will be noted by the gossips. If you cry out fewer times one night than the evening before, it will be said that I am losing your favor. No, my lord. I prefer these rooms to any others you would offer me.”

He was amazed by her reasoning. She had been in his possession but a few hours, but had already analyzed her entire situation. “You are very clever,” he told her. “Very well, you may have these rooms, and I shall give you a gardener of your very own.”

Leaning over, she kissed his mouth lingeringly. “I have no time for the politics of the harem, my lord. My duty is to please you. If I am to do that properly, I cannot be distracted by the foolishness of jealous, silly women.”

Abd-al Rahman laughed aloud, and his laughter was heard beyond the walls of Zaynab’s rooms. The women still awake and gossiping looked meaningfully at one another, nodding sagely. They would have been mortally insulted had they but known the reason for his amusement.

By morning the whole harem was aware that the caliph had stayed the entire night with the new woman. The early risers saw him leave her apartments, and eagerly reported it to any and all who would listen. The caliph looked as many had not seen him look in years. He looked as many had never seen him look.
He looked happy
. There had been a spring to his step, a smile on his lips.
He had whistled!

When Zaynab and Oma appeared in the baths later that morning, escorted by a preening Naja, the voices ceased in mid-chatter. All eyes were upon her. She walked proudly among them, smiling, as Obana hurried up to her, greeting the new favorite effusively. Everyone already knew that the caliph’s first gifts to his beloved had consisted of the furs and jewels that Donal Righ had sent. It was an astounding first-night gift for
Abd-al Rahman to have made. The women were more than impressed.

“Good morning, my lady Zahra,” Zaynab boldly saluted the older woman.

“Good morning to you, my lady Zaynab,” the caliph’s wife responded. “I understand that you have found favor with our lord.”

“I am fortunate beyond belief,” Zaynab answered her modestly. “Allah has smiled upon me. I am grateful, lady, but I am also greedy.”

“
Greedy?
” Zahra cocked an eyebrow. “How are you greedy?”

“I shall not be content until I have found your favor also, lady,” Zaynab said cleverly, looking directly at the other woman.

“In time perhaps,” Zahra replied, half laughing. What a little devil this girl was: beautiful and seductive enough to have caught the jaded Abd-al Rahman’s favor and kept it for an entire night—yet possibly she was dangerous as well. Zahra could not decide, and until she did, Zaynab would not have her acknowledged favor. “
If
you continue to please our lord and master, my lady Zaynab,
if
you do not sow seeds of discontent in the caliph’s garden; then and only then will you have my favor too. Time will tell, my dear.” Zahra suddenly realized that this girl could be her daughter. It was an uncomfortable thought.

If only Abd-al Rahman had not been so taken with her, Zahra considered. Perhaps she could have convinced him to give the girl to Hakam. She would be a good mate for their son. She looked like a girl who could breed strong sons. It really was time Hakam paid more attention to women. The damage was done, however. Abd-al Rahman had slept with the Love Slave and obviously been pleased. It was unlikely he would ever part with her. What a shame.

“She says she will not give you her favor yet,” Obana gloated to Zaynab privately, “
but
, she has spoken at length with you before all the others. Many will consider that you already have her favor. You are an amazing girl, my lady Zaynab.
In one day you have accomplished what it takes most years to accomplish. The majority of the women here have never attained the heights you have already scaled. You have made many enemies here today, I fear.”

Zaynab laughed. “Not intentionally, my lady Obana, I assure you,” she said. “I am the caliph’s Love Slave. I seek but one thing: his pleasure. Nothing else matters to me. I will not become embroiled in female foolishness. It can only distract me from my duty.”

“You are right, of course,” Obana agreed, “but nonetheless you must be vigilant, my child. There are women here who have tried for years to attract our master’s attention and never have suceeded.”

“And never will, even if I am gone from this place,” Zaynab said in practical tones.

“True,” Obana nodded, “but still you must have a care for your safety.”

“I will,” Zaynab promised, patting the older woman’s hand. She knew Obana was being kind, but she also knew that that kindness stemmed from her own success with the caliph. I have no illusions left to me, she thought, sad for a moment. Will the rest of my life be like this? Will I always have to be on my guard, to question everyone’s motives? She sighed. If the truth be known, she wanted only to be a simple woman with a man and a houseful of children. That, however, would never be.

“Let us get you bathed properly,” Obana said, breaking into her reverie. “I will tend to you myself.”

When he left Zaynab, Abd-al Rahman had gone directly to his own private bath to sit amid the steam and revive himself. It had not been a night in which he obtained much rest. He had not had a night like that in twenty years. Yet he had enjoyed himself greatly. Zaynab was not simply the most sexually advanced woman he had ever made love to, she was also intelligent. Learning about her was going to be an absolutely fascinating experience. He exited his bath to dress.

“Do not forget, my lord, that you promised to speak with
Karim al Malina this morning,” his personal body slave, Ali, reminded him.

“Send someone for him,” the caliph said. “I have but to give him a personal message for Donal Righ.”

“The lady Zaynab pleasured you?” Ali ventured.

Abd-al Rahman laughed heartily. “Never, Ali, in all my born days have I enjoyed a woman as I enjoy my new Love Slave. If Donal Righ thought he owed me a debt, he has repaid it a thousand times over.”

Karim al Malina was sent for, and came immediately. He had not slept well. Even the lovely girl given to him for his pleasure had been unable to distract him, although she had left him declaring never to have known such a lover as he. Zaynab was lost to him, and all he wanted to do was leave Madinat al-Zahra as quickly as possible.

The caliph looked up from his simple breakfast when his visitor entered. Karim bowed low, saying as he did, “Good morning, my lord.”

Abd-al Rahman looked up with a friendly smile at the serious young man. “And a very good morning it is, Karim al Malina. I have spent a night such as I never thought to spend again at my age. What an excellent job you have done with Zaynab. She is perfection! You may tell Donal Righ it is I who am now in his debt.”

“I will tell him, my lord,” Karim said in a lifeless voice, but the caliph did not notice.

“Besides her schooling in the erotic arts,” Abd-al Rahman said, “has she had other education? She seems a clever and intelligent woman.”

“She is,” Karim said. “Her tutors were most satisfied with her. Among other things, you will find she has a beautiful voice and sings like a bird. My mother said it was quite the finest voice she had heard in some time. Zaynab also plays three instruments. You will not find her lacking. I assure you, my lord.”

“She is a credit to your own training, Karim al Malina. Will you educate another girl soon?” the Caliph asked, curious.

“No, my lord, I will never train another girl again. That time
in my life is over. I shall now sail to Eire to inform Donal Righ of your great pleasure, then I shall return home to Alcazaba Malina to marry as my family would have me do. I am the last of my father’s children to take a mate. My little sister wed just a few months ago.”

“It is important for a man to marry and sire children,” the caliph agreed. “A man can never have too big a family about him. Tell me, how old is Zaynab?”

“She is fifteen, my lord,” Karim responded, thinking, And much too young a flower for a man of your years. He swallowed hard. He must not allow his jealousy to show. Zaynab was not his. She never really had been. “Her birthdate is, I believe, in the early winter.”

“I will take good care of her, Karim al Malina,” the caliph said. Then he arose from his meal and held out his hand to the captain.

Taking it, Karim knelt and kissed the caliph’s great diamond ring. “Allah guard and guide you, my lord,” he said, then rising, left the potentate’s presence. He struggled to keep his steps measured even though he really wanted to run, to shake the dust of this place from his robes. In the courtyard he mounted the horse that had been brought for him, turning its head to the Cordoba road. They would sail with the afternoon tide.
Farewell my heart. Farewell, my love
, he silently whispered to her. Allah watch over you.

Cha
p
ter 11

C
arrying a full load of freight in their holds,
I’timad
and
Iniga
sailed from Cordoba. They stopped at several ports along the Breton and Norman coast, selling part of their cargo, then traveled across the sea that separated the coast of Europe from that of England, where their luxury goods were welcomed by the inhabitants of that island on the edge of the known world. Finally, they charted a course around Land’s End for Eire, sailing up the Liffey one rainy midsummer’s morning.

Donal Righ greeted them eagerly, coming aboard
I’timad
himself. “A thousand welcomes, Karim al Malina!” he said jovially. “Do not keep me in suspense, I beg you, my young friend. My old heart will not stand it, I assure you. The caliph? He was pleased?”