But he did redden slightly at the reminder that his dire predictions had been proved wrong, and he defended himself. "It was dangerous, and I still say another diversion could have been staged without your involvement."
"Yes, but this one served more than one purpose. Jamil made it safely out of the palace, the public got a good look at the Dey's beardless appearance, and the assassins have valid proof now that their target is still in residence. Besides, it assured that no one would follow Jamil if they decided he looked worth following, which was a distinct possibility if I hadn't been on display as a distraction."
"True, true, all true," said the Grand Vizier with a sigh.
"And, Omar?"
"Yes?"
"I enjoyed it."
This time Omar snorted. "Let us hope you find less dangerous ways of enjoying yourself in the days to come."
"Oh, I intend to." Derek grinned. "Beginning immediately. You did say there's nothing for me to attend to today?"
"Nothing that will require your presence."
"Good. Then do I send for Haji Agha, or will a messenger serve to bring Shahar to me now?"
Omar's brows shot up. "Now?"
"Is there anything wrong with the time of day?" Derek wanted to know.
"No, of course not, but . . . she won't be ready for you this soon, Kasim. You know how lengthy the training period is."
"I don't care," Derek insisted. "Unlike Jamil, I'm used to untrained women."
"But she's only been here four days—"
"Was she bought for me or not, Omar?"
Omar cringed at the brusque tone, so like Jamil's of late. "You know she was."
"And if I want her today, right now, why should I wait?"
There were a number of reasons that would make it unadvisable, but Omar sensed Kasim didn't want to hear them. Omar couldn't remember the last time he had been this impatient for a woman. He couldn't remember ever being this impatient. But then he wasn't young and lusty anymore, and he hadn't deliberately deprived himself of a willing bedmate these past four nights, as he knew Kasim had foolishly done.
Still, he felt it expedient to point out, "There are dozens of other women to choose—"
"Omar."
The old man threw up his hands. "Then you had best summon Haji Agha. This particular summons coming from anyone else will not be believed."
Haji Agha had not moved so quickly in twenty years. Immediately, Jamil had said. How to interpret "immediately"? Was there time to dress the girl properly? Pray Allah she was already bathed. But it was late in the afternoon, so a bath was hopefully the least of his worries.
He burst into Rahine's apartment, so out of breath it took him several seconds before he could get out, "He wants her now."
"Who?"
"Shahar."
"What?"
"There is no time to wonder about it, Rahine. He said immediately."
Rahine opened her mouth to argue, but the word "immediately" changed her mind. Jamil had never demanded one of his concubines immediately before.
She took a deep breath to calm herself, then turned to the women gathered around her. "You heard Haji Agha. There is no time to dawdle. Kalila, go to the wardrobe mistress. Tell her something in lavender, to match Shahar's eyes. Saril, fetch one of my jewel boxes, the one with the pearls, I think. Oma, my scented oils, quickly. Come along, Haji."
The old man smiled as he hurried after her. "You're taking this very well, Rahine."
She ignored the comment. "Did you at least try to tell him she wasn't ready?"
"Of course."
And he had still said immediately, she realized. "But why the rush? She's going to be denied the preparation ritual that is so important for her self-esteem. To be the chosen one is an honor—"
"Do you really think she will consider it such?"
Rahine stopped cold, paling. "Allah help us, what if she resists him?"
"That is a distinct possibility."
"I should have spoken to her myself, should have warned her what could happen if she displeases him.''
Omar continued walking, saying over his shoulder, "He has called for her before she is ready, Rahine. He will have to take that into consideration and have patience with her."
She hurried to catch up with him. "But will he? You know how short-tempered he has been—"
"Which is why there is no time for this speculation. We only have time to see her properly dressed."
On inquiry of Shahar's whereabouts, they were directed to the hammam. Thank Allah for small favors. But Rahine had recalled by now that Shahar had not been denuded of all her body hair. She decided not to mention this appalling fact to Haji, since there was nothing they could do about it now. There was no telling what Jamil's reaction would be, but again, he had to accept what he got when he allowed no time for preparation.
Rahine sighed to herself. She couldn't even be annoyed with Jamil for breaking tradition because of this unprecedented impatience on his part. He was under a strain. He was not himself, and hadn't been for months. If Shahar could take his mind off his troubles for a while, Rahine would be thankful for it. She was just afraid that this particular girl was going to add to his frustration, rather than appease it.
They found her stretched out on a bench in the main chamber of the hammam, her head resting on her crossed arms, her eyes closed. The girl who had been given to her knelt beside her, gently running a brush through that wealth of platinum hair, spread down her back and over her hips. If Jamil could see her like this he would find no fault with her no matter her attitude, for her skinniness was hidden beneath a caftan that covered her completely, falling to the floor on each side of the bench. She presented a sensual picture, with a dreamy smile on her lips in her relaxation.
A light coating of cosmetics had already been applied to her face, a very light coat, Rahine noted, and realized it suited her fairness. She made a mental note to reward Shahar's servant for having her in a state of readiness even though she was still in training. That circumstance had abruptly changed. Now for the battle that Rahine fully anticipated.
Chantelle's eyes popped open as she heard the surprised gasps all around her and the quickly uttered greetings to the Dey's mother and his Chief Black Eunuch. But then she groaned, seeing that the pair were moving directly toward her. What now? she wondered with a distinct flare of irritation. Had Vashti complained of her surliness? But that wasn't her fault, for that haughty little twit gave her a very real headache each time she showed up for Chantelle's "lessons in the arts of love."
As she sat up, she glanced briefly at the culprit in question and saw Vashti preening in what was supposedly a provocative pose, naked from the waist up, her large melonlike breasts looking grotesque with the nipples hennaed, as many of the women's were; they used henna not only on nipples but on hands and feet, too. One lady had even put the red dye around her hairless pubic region, a sight which Chantelle had had to pinch herself to keep from laughing at, it had looked so ridiculous.
The nakedness in the baths was not unusual, for half the women in the room were partially clothed as well, and there were about twenty concubines present at the moment. Chantelle had even managed not to feel quite so disturbed by it today, so she supposed this was one thing she was quickly getting used to, though she refused to lie about in such a state of indecency.
"Lalla Rahine, Haji Agha." Chantelle gave them the barest semblance of a nod to allow them their due respect. "Is there something you require of me?"
"What is that scent you are wearing?" Rahine asked abruptly.
"Attar of roses."
"I would have preferred something more sensual, but it will do, I suppose." Rahine waved the girl Oma away when she rushed up behind her with her own box of scents, and directed her next question to Adamma. "Was she thoroughly bathed today?"
Adamma was in a frozen state of shock, as well as rendered speechless, at being spoken to by Lalla Rahine for the first time ever. Chantelle's eyes narrowed at these pointless
questions. As far as she was concerned, her cleanliness was no one's business but her own. Did they have to pry into everything here?
Irritation prodding her, and after having listened to nothing but allusions to sex for the past three days, she drawled, "Why, lalla, you could eat off me, I'm so clean. Is that what you wanted to know?"
Rahine's lips twitched despite herself. "You must inform Jamil that he has that option, Haji."
"He might find it a unique experience," the old eunuch agreed, his grin more obvious.
"Now just a minute—" Chantelle began, but was distracted by another servant running toward her, arms laden with the sheerest silk she had ever seen, in the most exquisite shade of lavender.
The material was laid out carefully on the bench beside her, and now Chantelle saw that it wasn't just material, but a finished product, an outfit in the same design as what she was already used to wearing. The silk pantaloons were shot through with silver thread, making them glitter at the slightest movement. And she gasped to find that the little vest was trimmed with silver-mounted amethysts. There were also transparent veils in the same color, but of gauze; a stunning head circlet of silver, pearls, and much larger amethysts to attach the veils to; and satin slippers studded with still more purple gems.
It was an outfit unlike any she had seen in common wear around the harem, an outfit worthy of ... the Dey's pleasure. Her eyes flew to Rahine with that horrid thought, but she could sense nothing in the older woman's expression to panic her. Besides, she had been assured that she wouldn't be summoned until her training was completed, and it had only just begun. She had also been assured she wouldn't be summoned until she put on some weight, and at the most she had gained back only a pound or two, enough to take the gauntness from her face.
"Is this costume for me?" Chantelle asked Rahine.
Rahine had not missed the brief moment of fear that was revealed in Shahar's expression. But then she had been anticipating a battle royal, only it was a battle the girl couldn't win.
For a long moment, she actually debated lying to Shahar about where she was going. That would get her dressed quickly, get her all the way to Jamil's apartment without incident, and also keep the girl from hating her, and she realized with a degree of surprise that she didn't want Shahar to hate her.
Rahine sighed, for she knew she was only fooling herself. In no way could they leave the battle to come on Jamil's doorstep. The results of that would affect the whole palace, and that was something she couldn't risk, even if she was willing to cause Jamil's displeasure, which she wasn't. Besides, lying to the girl would undoubtedly gain her hate anyway.
But they could at least get her dressed first. "Do you like it?" Rahine asked with a smile. "I knew the color would suit you the moment I saw it. And I thought you deserved something nice, now that you've settled in without any more disturbances."
Chantelle glanced at Haji, distrustful of that unlikely statement, but when he didn't dispute it, she smiled, too. "Then I thank you. It is lovely."
"Well, then, what are you waiting for? Go and try it on so that I may see how you look. My women will help you."
"No," Chantelle declined, politely but firmly. "I have Adamma now to help me."
Rahine looked at the girl in question, still on her knees behind the bench. "Very well, but, Adamma, be quick about it," Rahine warned, adding for Shahar's benefit, "I'm pressed for time."
If Chantelle didn't understand, Adamma certainly did, and she was too frightened of the Dey's mother to warn her mistress, though she wanted to. From certain comments that Shahar had made in the past days, Adamma realized why Lalla Rahine was avoiding the truth until the last moment. Even when they removed themselves to one of the small chambers off the main room for privacy, she said nothing, praying silently instead, for she too realized that her mistress was going to balk at what had come about much sooner than anyone had expected.
With Rahine's warning uppermost in mind, she had Shahar changed in record time, then just stood there in amazement at how such fine raiments could enhance her mistress's pale beauty.
"Is it that bad?" Chantelle asked with a grin.
Adamma started. "Oh, no, lalla! His highness will find you more beautiful than the hummingbird's song, more beautiful than—"
"Oh, don't start with all that silliness, Adamma. And his highness's opinion doesn't count anyway, since he's not going to see me. But I would like to see for myself. Didn't you say there was a mirror in Safiye's apartment? How much do you think it will take to bribe her to let me have a peek in it?"
"Oh, never mind. Perhaps Lalla Rahine can arrange it."
And with the intention of asking that favor, Chantelle returned to the main chamber. Only she was brought up short upon finding the room deserted of the other concubines, leaving only Rahine, Haji, and two other eunuchs who had entered while she was gone. One was Kadar, but Chantelle didn't spare him even a fleeting smile. Her eyes locked with the emerald gaze of the Dey's mother.
"The color does indeed suit you, Shahar."
Chantelle continued forward. "Thank you, but would you mind telling me why you have sent everyone away? It is your doing, isn't it?"
Rahine took the last step that brought her close enough to kiss Chantelle's cheek. "I'm sorry, child, but Haji will take you to Jamil now."
"Is that normal? I thought I wasn't supposed to see him until ..." The words trailed off as the color left Chantelle's face. "No." It was barely a whisper.
Matter-of-factly, Rahine stated, "Jamil owns you. This is a fact even you can't dispute. And he has decided not to wait until your training is completed. It is his wish that you come to him now."
"I won't." Still in a whisper.
"Yes, you will," Rahine insisted. "You have no choice in the matter."
It was the words "no choice" that broke through Chantelle's horror to ignite her temper. "Like bloody hell!" she shouted, forgetting herself enough to speak in English. "I won't go anywhere near that—that— that man! You'll have to drag me there and hold me down for his depravity—"
"That can be arranged," Rahine replied coldly.
"You wouldn't," Chantelle faltered.
"On the contrary."
Chantelle's eyes widened accusingly as she exclaimed, "You're speaking English!"
"I am English."
"Then he's half English? Oh, God, that just makes it worse!"
"I don't see why—"
"You don't see anything! You've been here too long. You think like them now, you act like them. You're no longer English, or you couldn't force me into this!"
"It is not I who am forcing you, Shahar, but the circumstances that brought you here. You lost your freedom of choice when you were made a slave. Now you do as your master wishes, or you suffer the consequences."
"Rahine," Haji interrupted finally. "There is no time for this."
"I know." Rahine sighed, turning away. "Take her. If she angers Jamil by resisting him . . . other women have died for less."
Chapter Twenty-four
Magic words, "do or die." Until Chantelle could determine if it was true, she had to give in. She might be furious and terrified in turn that it had come to this, but she wasn't stupid. There were a lot of things she would do to preserve her maidenhead. Dying wasn't one of them.
She barely heard Haji Agha as he hurried her down the long corridor toward the Dey's private apartments. The last-minute instructions and warnings fell on deaf ears. She was too aware of what was going to happen. Vashti had taken her through it step by step, and those were the words she kept hearing.
"It is over with very quickly. He will stick his thing in you and you will feel the terrible pain as it rips through your hymen. If his mood is good, he might allow you time for the pain to subside—most likely not, since what you feel does not concern him. Then he will thrust and thrust and finally cry out his pleasure. He will take a few moments to recover; then he will move away, and that is the end of it. Simple. All over quickly, and he sends you back
to the harem. Rarely does he keep a concubine with him all night, since he prefers to sleep with his wives."
Those words had haunted Chantelle ever since, intruding on her other lessons, in which her instruction had begun in the arts of enticement and seduction, but mostly pleasure. How to please a man. Not just any man, but one man in particular.
Chantelle had had to see a little humor in it or she would be fast on her way to going crazy. For so many people to be concerned with one man's sexual delights was the height of ludicrousness, yet that was exactly the case here. Every single woman in the harem, every single eunuch, every slave, was concerned with only one thing, the Dey's pleasure. If it weren't so ridiculous, Chantelle would cry about it. But it wasn't so ridiculous now, not when she was about to become the main course on tonight's menu.