Sheik by Connie Mason Page A

bandits?”
    “We do not think of ourselves as bandits. We are free people, fighting for equality. We raid thesultan’s caravans because we are driven to it by high taxes.”
    “I know nothing of politics.” Nafisa shrugged as she pulled off Zara’s shirt and helped her out of her pantaloons. The old woman wasn’t prepared for the sight that met her eyes, and a shocked gasp left her throat. “Blessed Allah, you are lovely. That hair, that skin, you are like a rare butterfly emerging from its cocoon. If the sheik saw you like this he’d—”
    “The sheik has already seen her like this,” Jamal said from the doorway, “and was as awestruck as you are, my good Nafisa.”
    “What are you doing here?” Zara cried, trying to hide behind the ample Nafisa.
    “This is my home, I go wherever I please.”
    “Am I not allowed to bathe in privacy?”
    “You are my slave. I am your master. I will decide what you are allowed and not allowed.” He ambled into the
hammam
and dropped down onto one of the benches, stretching his long legs in front of him. “You may continue, Nafisa.”
    Zara bit her lip to keep from flinging back a sharp retort, noting that Nafisa seemed not at all disturbed by Jamal’s presence. Did he regularly watch his concubines bathe? she wondered.
    “Why aren’t you with your women?” Zara dared to ask.
    Why, indeed?
Jamal thought but did not say. Instead of easing the lust Zara had created inside him with one of his women, he was torturing himself by watching her bathe. He was already hard and growing harder.
    “I sent them to the village with Hammet,” Jamalsaid. “’Tis market day and they love to browse in the
souk
.”
    “’Tis the master’s right to be here,” Nafisa said with a hint of censure. “Lie on the bench, Zara, so that I may tend you properly. You have neglected your body most shamefully.”
    Jamal watched with growing excitement as Nafisa swiftly and efficiently rid Zara of all her body hair. When she had finished, Zara’s skin was once again as smooth and soft as satin. His eyes feasted on her plump pink mound, recalling how moist and hot her tight sheath had been when he’d aroused her with his mouth and fingers. His loins grew heavy, his manroot rose, hard and engorged. This seduction was going much too slowly, he thought. Tonight he would escalate his efforts to bring Zara to his bed. But for now he had suffered enough torment. Rising abruptly, he called Nafisa to his side, spoke briefly to her, then left the
hammam
.
    Zara noted Jamal’s absence when she rose to enter the pool. Her relief was immediate and heartfelt. The knowledge that Jamal was watching her while she bathed had excited her. Her nipples had puckered into taut buds, and she wondered if Nafisa had noticed. Allah take Jamal, she thought grumpily. Why should this arrogant sheik, enemy of her people, be the only man to fully arouse her womanly passions?
    She had loved Sayed, but her feelings for him were tepid compared to the exhilaration she felt when Jamal touched her. It shouldn’t be like that, she thought, disgruntled. He was too sure of himself, too powerfully male, too arrogant. Hewanted her in his bed, and she didn’t know how long she could resist the compelling appeal of his seduction.
    Nafisa washed Zara’s body and hair with jasmine-scented soap, then rinsed her several times with warm water that had been heated on a brazier. When Zara had finished bathing, Nafisa wrapped her in a large square of linen cloth and rubbed her body dry. Then she bade Zara lie down on the bench so that she could massage oil of jasmine into her skin. It felt wonderfully relaxing, but had the hands upon her been Jamal’s, Zara reflected, the massage would have been erotic and arousing. Praise Allah that it was Nafisa administering to her and not Jamal.
    The clothing Nafisa brought for Zara to wear was not fit for a slave. Zara gazed with distaste at the short, sleeveless blouse fashioned of rich turquoise