Sheik by Connie Mason Read Free Book Online Page B

caravans.We set a trap, but the Berbers scattered into the hills when we appeared. Unfortunately, Youssef escaped.”
    Haroun’s gaze settled disconcertingly on Zara. His eyes narrowed and his thick black brows rose upward in silent query. “Have you brought back a new slave? He doesn’t look strong enough to be of much use.”
    Jamal laughed. “You’re wrong, my fine friend, this particular slave is perfectly suited for what I have in mind.” Then he surprised Haroun by ripping off Zara’s turban and tossing it to the ground. Pale blond hair spilled out, framing her face in a halo of molten gold. “What think you now of my slave?”
    “Allah and the Prophet!” Haroun said, bug-eyed with shock. “If the rest of her is as lovely as her face, she will outshine the loveliest pearl in your harem. Who is she?”
    “I am Zara, daughter of Youssef, you gaping ass,” Zara said imperiously.
    The insult brought forth a burst of laughter from Jamal. “Zara has a sharp tongue, my friend. Watch lest she cut you to ribbons with it.”
    Haroun didn’t think it at all amusing. “Why would you want such an ill-tempered woman when you have Leila, Saha and Amar, docile jewels all, waiting to give you pleasure?”
    “I wish I knew,” Jamal muttered beneath his breath, but it was loud enough for Haroun to hear and wonder. “I suppose I couldn’t bear to see her beautiful head separated from her body. Zara had the audacity to offend the sultan. I talked him out of beheading her. Then he threatened to give herto Abdul, his blacksmith. I may yet live to regret my rashness, but I asked Ishmail to give her to me instead.”
    “I had no idea you wished to enlarge your harem. Shall I take Zara to the women’s quarters?”
    “I am
Princess
Zara,” Zara corrected in a haughty tone. If Jamal intended to break her spirit, he was wasting his time.
    “No longer a princess but a lowly slave,” Jamal pointed out. “Ranking below all my other slaves.” He turned to Haroun. “Zara is to work in the stables. Tell Ahmed she is to rake dung from the stalls.”
    Haroun appeared puzzled by Jamal’s words. Women as beautiful as Zara did not rake dung. They served their masters in bed, giving and receiving pleasure. “Are you sure, my lord? Perhaps she would better serve you in your bed.”
    “’Tis the sultan’s wish that Zara be taught humility and obedience. He insisted that she be punished for insulting him. She spat at him. Had I not promised to obey his wishes in the matter, Zara would have become Abdul’s slave. He would have killed her the first time she insulted him. I convinced Ishmail that Zara should live, that his cause would be better served if she was held as a hostage to insure her father’s compliance.”
    “I would have preferred death,” Zara loudly proclaimed.
    “You will do as you’re told,” Jamal warned ominously. He turned to Haroun and shrugged. “See what I mean? She is incorrigible. She is to remain in the stables, working alongside the other slavesuntil she learns obedience. Instruct the guards that she is not to be allowed outside the palace walls.”
    “I understand, my lord. Come along, wench. Ahmed will be glad for the extra pair of hands. Jamal’s stables are vast, surpassed only by the sultan’s.”
    As he watched Zara walk off with Haroun, Jamal decided that Zara would be his stable’s finest addition to date. The green-eyed, fair-haired Berber vixen was more difficult than his feistiest mare … and infinitely more enticing.
    Head held high, Zara accompanied Haroun to the stables, determined to survive the meanest task without complaint. But despite Jamal and the sultan, she would never become a docile slave. She was a Berber warrior, too proud to be tamed.
    Haroun placed Zara into Ahmed’s keeping with little ado, saying only that it was Sheik Jamal’s wish that the woman work in the stables alongside the other slaves, and that she was to be given no special treatment. Within minutes of