Sheik by Connie Mason

sexually charged, Zara had to look away. “Look, ladies! Our lord has brought a new eunuch to wait upon us.”
    Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at Zara.
    Zara studied each concubine in turn. All three wore short vests that barely covered their breasts, silken pantaloons and transparent caftans. Soft pointed slippers adorned their feet, and their fingers were laden with rings. Each wore a silk veil that could be pulled across their face and fastened.
    The redhead wrinkled her nose distastefully. “Where did you find so pitiful a slave, Jamal? His stench offends me.”
    Jamal bit back a smile. “The new slave is a woman, Saha. She will serve you, Leila and Amar in the harem and perform minor household duties.”
    Leila sent Zara a condescending look. “What a pathetic excuse for a woman.”
    Zara would have flown at Leila had not Jamal placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Where is Nafisa?”
    “I am here, my lord.” A stout elderly woman entered from another room, huffing from her exertions. “What do you wish of me?” Suddenly hergaze fell on Zara and a frown wrinkled her brow. “Is that a woman, my lord?”
    “Aye, Zara is indeed a woman, Nafisa. I’m counting on you to make her look like one. The sultan has presented me with this new slave.”
    “Slave, my lord?” Nafisa repeated. “Is she to serve you in no other way?”
    “Nafisa, Jamal knows what he wants and obviously it isn’t a filthy beggar who’s probably riddled with disease,” Amar said sharply.
    “Riddled with disease!” Zara cried, shrugging off Jamal’s restraining hand as she leaped at Amar. The lovely concubine fell beneath Zara’s surprise attack before Jamal could pull her away.
    “That’s enough!” Jamal said, giving Zara a shake. “You will behave or return to the stables.”
    “I’m not diseased,” Zara muttered angrily.
    “She’s vicious,” Amar said, picking herself off the floor and setting her silk veil back in place. “She will not make a good slave, my lord. She needs a beating.”
    Jamal agreed wholeheartedly. “Zara, these are my concubines, Saha, Leila and Amar. Your duties include serving them in the harem. Saha has a temper to match her red hair. Leila is like a playful kitten, but beware of her claws. And Amar can be fractious if stroked the wrong way.”
    “Why is Zara so filthy, my lord?” Nafisa asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
    “Oh, yes, I almost forgot to introduce Nafisa, mistress of the harem,” Jamal told Zara. “Zara is filthy because she has been serving as a stable slave,” he explained.
    “A stable slave!” Saha gasped.
    “Zara must have displeased you greatly, my lord,” Amar said with a smirk.
    A hint of compassion crossed old Nafisa’s wrinkled face. “Come along, Zara, I’ll soon rid you of the stench of dung and horses.”
    Zara followed, as eager to escape Jamal’s sniping concubines as she was to have a bath. As she passed through an arched doorway, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Jamal stretched out on a couch, his women crowded around him like a litter of puppies, eager to please and be pleased. Her face flamed, recalling all those arousing things Jamal had done to her that night beside the pool, wondering if he meant to bed his women while she was in the next room.
    The
hammam
was hot and steamy, and Zara couldn’t wait to immerse herself in the sparkling water. The pool dominated the large room, whose floors were inlaid with white and blue tiles. Benches lined the walls around the pool.
    “Allow me to remove those filthy robes, Zara,” Nafisa said kindly. “Why are you dressed like a man?”
    “This is how I always dress,” Zara explained. “Normally I wear the blue robes of my people.”
    “Blue robes? Allah help us. Are you one of the Blue Men? How can that be when you are a woman?”
    “My father is Youssef,
cadi
of the Berbers who live in the Rif mountains. I ride at his side.”
    Nafisa stared at her. “You ride with