Sheik by Connie Mason Page B

brocade, thinking that it would barely cover her breasts. The silken pantaloons were a pale ivory color and embarrassingly transparent. They belled out from the waist and hugged her slim ankles. But they were so sheer her skin tones were clearly visible. Then Nafisa handed her a veil to cover her face.
    “I cannot wear these clothes,” Zara protested. “They’re not proper attire for a Berber princess.”
    “I am but following Sheik Jamal’s orders,” Nafisa said with a shrug. “Now be a good girl and get dressed. Your master left orders that you are to serve him tonight. After you finish dressing, I’ll show you to your room. It is tiny, but more than adequate for a slave. There is even a small walled garden for your enjoyment.” She gave Zara an assessinglook. “’Tis unusual for Sheik Jamal to bring home a female slave. Male slaves and eunuchs perform the day-to-day tasks at Paradise. The only women in the palace are myself and his concubines.”
    “Do you expect me to be grateful for such an honor?” Zara asked bitterly. “I didn’t ask to be a slave. I vow I will not remain one long. My father will come for me soon.”
    “We’ll see,” Nafisa said sagely. “Hurry, now. There will be time for a nap before your duties begin.”
    Since no other clothing was forthcoming, Zara quickly donned the revealing costume, but drew the line at the veil. “Berber women do not hide their faces,” she declared haughtily.
    “You are in an Arab harem,” Nafisa said, not unkindly. “You will obey your master. Come along, I’ll take you to your room.”
    Zara entered a small chamber scarcely bigger than a large closet. There were a sleeping couch, a chest for her clothing and a low table. A pile of cushions was stacked against one wall. A double door opened into a small walled garden. It was indeed adequate for her needs, Zara decided, for she wouldn’t be remaining long. At the end of four weeks, if her father didn’t come before then, she would be free. Jamal was a man of his word, and when he failed to seduce her, he would have no choice but to free her.
    “Rest, Zara,” Nafisa said as she left her charge. “Someone will come for you when it is time to serve your master.”
    “How am I to serve the sheik?” Zara asked warily.
    “You will bring his food from the kitchen and serve him.”
    Relief shuddered through Zara. She knew Jamal could order her to his bed and she would have no say in the matter. She almost wished he would, for then he would lose his wager and she would be free. Lying with the enemy was repugnant to her, but it would almost be worth her freedom. Almost…
    Since there was little to explore in her room, Zara lay down on the couch and promptly fell asleep. What seemed like scant minutes later, someone arrived to awaken her. She opened her eyes and met the gaze of a young man about her own age. He had a long, sad face, expressive brown eyes and skin as smooth and flawless as her own. She knew instinctively that he was a eunuch, for no other males were allowed in the harem.
    “I am called Hakim. I bring your supper.” He motioned to a tray of food he had placed on the table. “You must eat quickly. When you finish I’m to take you to the master.”
    “Thank you, Hakim. The food smells delicious,” Zara said, walking to the table. She saw that Hakim had placed a cushion before the table and she sat down cross-legged upon it.
    “I’ll return for you shortly,” Hakim said as he quietly let himself out of the room.
    Zara ate ravenously, thoroughly enjoying the rice with tiny bits of capon breast in it, creamy yogurt with peeled grapes, a dish of figs, warmflat bread and fresh apples and oranges. She was just finishing her meal when Saha barged into her room, her eyes blazing furiously.
    “I understand you are to serve Jamal tonight. Since he brought you home, we have been sorely neglected.” Her fiery gaze slid over Zara’s face and body. “You are not half as beautiful as I. Even