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  The men’s conversation continued, and Farah and I stood quietly and waited. The room was fairly dark, lit only by large candles in holders on the tables and the torches on the walls. In the corner, a man sat playing a setar, the quiet music a pleasant backdrop, like the sound of a fountain.

  The room smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon, rich, spicy scents that made my mouth water. I had hardly eaten anything all day, and my stomach gave an embarrassing rumble. Next to me, Farah stifled a giggle.

  The summer breeze made the curtains ripple at the open windows, and I glanced across, out at the dark sky. Thousands of stars pricked the blackness. It must be nearing midnight, I thought, surprised the Prince was still working.

  It was not much longer before the men finished their conversation and rose from the table. There was much laughter, and I heard some of them congratulating the Prince on his marriage, and joking with him about what was going to happen next, bringing a flush rising to my cheeks.

  Farah moved aside as the men approached the door, and I moved with her, keeping my gaze lowered as they passed.

  “She is a pretty one,” one of the men said, pausing to look down at me.

  “And she is mine,” the Prince replied, sounding amused as he gestured for the man to leave. The possessiveness in his deep, husky voice sent a shiver through me. Farah nudged me with her elbow, and I could almost hear the gleeful giggle she wanted to give.

  The Prince accompanied them through the door, gave a few parting comments, then came back into the room. The two eunuchs shut the door behind him, leaving me with the Prince and Farah, the slave, and the setar player in the corner.

  My heart had already been racing. Now it thundered, as loud in my ears as if we stood beneath a waterfall.

  The Prince’s feet clad in their dark green slippers approached, and he stopped before us. He had changed out of his brightly colored wedding outfit, and now wore a light green silk tunic over dark green trousers. The trousers had a wide piece of beautifully embroidered brocade around the bottom, and I kept my gaze fixed on the patterns of gold thread so I wasn’t tempted to look at him.

  “Thank you for bringing my new bride, Farah.” The Prince tucked a hand under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her smile. “I hope you have made her welcome,” he said.

  “I tried, my Prince,” she said.

  He bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to look at them.

  Lifting his head, he dropped his hand and turned to me. I stayed as still as I could, aware of his gaze on me, heating me up the way a blacksmith’s fire heats an iron sword.

  He moved a little closer, towering over me, all height and breadth and width. My father had often smelled stale, of smoke and body odor, but the Prince smelled divine, warm and spicy. It made my mouth water.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  My heart was now racing as fast as if I’d run the whole distance of the palace. But in spite of that, Farah’s words rang in my head. He also likes them a little bold.

  Holding my breath, I lifted my chin until I met his gaze.

  It seared into me the same way it had at the ceremony, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I looked into those deep brown eyes, losing myself in their warmth. He was young, not quite as young as me, but his handsome face was free of lines until suddenly—like the sun coming out—he smiled, and his eyes creased at the edges.

  “Well,” he murmured. “Welcome, little bird.”

  “Thank you, my Prince,” I whispered.

  His amused gaze slid to Farah, then back to me, as if he had realized she had primed me on the correct way to address him.

  Lifting his hands, he unclipped the veil on either side of my head, and lowered it. I swallowed, nervous at his reaction to his first look at my face, but his eyes showed only admiration.

  His gaze scanned me, then he slowly began to walk around me. He stopped behind me and moved in close, until his chest brushed my back. He lifted my hair.

  “Silky,” he said, his fingers sliding through it, “like ribbons.”

  I shivered at his touch, half-wanting him to put his hands on me, half-afraid of what would happen when he did.

  Taking my hair in one hand, he twisted it and let it fall over my left shoulder, exposing my neck to his hot gaze. I could feel it on my skin, branding me like an iron. His warm breath fanned over my ear, and his lips brushed around the edge, then touched the skin behind the lobe, soft as a butterfly landing on a desert rose.

  I shuddered as he pressed his lips down my neck to the collar of my tunic. In the crook of my neck, he placed a kiss, and then touched his tongue to the skin.

  “You taste sweet,” he said. “Like ripe fruit. Ready for plucking.” I felt his lips curve where they kissed my skin.

  I closed my eyes, and only opened them again when he walked around to stand in front of me. Meeting his gaze again, I drowned in the depths of his eyes while he cupped my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.

  “I thought you were beautiful the last time I saw you,” he said, “but you have grown even more so.”

  I felt my eyes widen. “You have seen me before?”

  “Yes. I came to your father’s palace three years ago. I saw you walking through the courtyard—you stopped to look at a dove drinking from the fountain, and when it flew away, you laughed. I knew then that I wanted you. I told your father I would marry you after your eighteenth birthday, and he promised he would not give you to any other until then.”

  My jaw dropped. I had not realized any of this. My father had not shared his plans with me until six months before the wedding, and he had not told me that the Prince had asked for my hand, only that he had arranged a good marriage for me and it was an excellent business deal for him.

  The Prince’s lips curved. “You like this story.”

  “Yes, my Prince.”

  “You think you will like being married to me?”

  “Um…yes, my Prince.”

  “Farah has told you what to expect?”

  “A little, my Prince.”

  “What has she told you?”

  Farah shifted beside me. Was she remembering her words to me? I will let you into a secret, Alesha... he also likes them a little bold… Was she worried I would tell him what she’d said?

  I moistened my lips with the tip of my tongue. “She spoke with great pride about how strong and powerful you are, and that you are a well-respected leader. That you are very clever. She also said you were an excellent lover.” My cheeks warmed.

  I felt rather than heard Farah blow out a relieved breath. The Prince’s gaze slid to hers, full of amusement. “Did she now?” He chuckled and, to my surprise, winked at her. “I am sure that is not all she said.”

  She rubbed her nose and dropped her gaze, chewing her lip. Clearly, he understood what she was like.

  His eyes came back to me, interested as well as admiring. “You are tactful as well as wise. Well, little bird, I hope I live up to the description.”

  His thumb stroked my cheek, and he moved closer, so I had to tip my head back to look up at him. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” he murmured. “Such a pretty color.”

  Slowly, he lowered his lips to mine.

  I held my breath as he kissed me. He was gentle, and his lips were warm and dry. Sliding a hand behind my neck, he held me firmly, and I felt his tongue brush across my lips. They parted instinctively, and his tongue invaded my mouth, sliding against my own, slick and sweet.

  Heat flooded me, and I moaned, muscles I didn’t know existed clenching deep inside. I wanted to please him and show my relief and appreciation. I could not believe he was my husband. This wedding day could have been the end of the world—instead it felt like the first day of the rest of my life. I truly was the luckiest girl in the country.

  I rose up on tiptoes, bringing my arms around his neck so I could press myself against him as I copied his movements and thrust my ton
gue into his mouth.

  To my alarm, he inhaled sharply and pulled back, grabbing me by my upper arms. Those deep brown eyes that had looked at me with warmth and interest now blazed with anger.

  Chapter Three

  “Where did you learn to do that?” he snapped.

  I stared, frightened. “My Prince…”

  “Who has taught you how to react to a man?”

  “I am sorry—I do not know what you mean!”

  His fingers tightened painfully on my arms. “Your father promised me you would be a virgin.”

  He had taken my enthusiasm for experience. I stare at him in anguish. “I am a virgin! I swear it!”

  “My Prince.” Farah stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. I would not realize until much later how brave she was for doing that. “Alesha is innocent. She is frightened and just wants to please you. I think she is just reacting naturally to you because she did not expect you to be so young and handsome.”

  He turned his hot gaze to her and glared at her for a moment, but she didn’t look away, and after a while his fingers loosened their grip. His attention came back to me. “Is this true?”

  Staring at my feet, I nodded hastily. “Yes, my Prince.”

  “You just want to please me?”

  I nodded again.

  “You think me young and handsome?” His tone was light, even playful.

  Surprised he even had to ask, I gathered my courage and lifted my gaze to his. The anger in his eyes had died and the soft look had returned.

  Making sure to keep my expression shy, I gave a little nod and let my lips curve, just a tiny bit.

  He let go of me and ran his hands through his hair, then placed them on his hips. “What are you frightened of?”

  I didn’t know what to say. That you’ll hurt me. Would that make him angry again? I didn’t know how to explain myself. My father had many wives. He beat some of them, and favored others—it was often an unhappy place as the women vied with each other to ensure they kept his interest.

  I was worried I wouldn’t be able to make my husband happy, and that in return he would beat me. Farah had hinted that sex with him would bring pleasure, but I still could not believe I would be that lucky. I blinked, doing my best not to cry.

  He blew out a long breath. Then he cupped my cheek again. “I am sorry. I am not a cruel man, little bird. You will learn that sometimes pain and pleasure are not as far apart as you might think, but I do not like to hurt women.”

  I nodded, but I could not stop myself shaking.

  His thumb brushed my cheek. “Perhaps I have forgotten what it is like to be innocent. If you are truly a virgin then I understand how you might be scared. Especially with your father being so…” His voice trailed off, and he rolled his eyes, then smiled.

  His words made me catch my breath. Nobody had ever dared criticize my father to me before. But this was my husband, a man more powerful than my father. I belonged to him now. I had thought all men would act toward women as my father did, but maybe that wasn’t the case at all.

  The Prince frowned. “Did you eat much at our wedding feast?”

  I shook my head. I had eaten hardly anything the whole day.

  Taking my hand, he led me across the room.

  His large bed was against one wall, surrounded by many sheer, glittering curtains. He held them back and stood aside to let me and Farah through. The bed was covered with cream silk sheets and a beautiful blue coverlet embroidered with green, red, and gold threads. Huge soft pillows lay strewn across it.

  The Prince gestured for me to sit. He sat on my right, and Farah sat on my left. Then he beckoned to the slave, who approached through the curtains with his tray.

  The Prince scooped a small handful of the raisins and nuts from one of the bowls. Taking a couple in his fingers, he pressed them to my lips, and I chewed them dutifully.

  While I ate, he held my hand. “Let me tell you about myself. I am a busy man, little bird. I work hard during the day, and often during the evening too. When it comes to midnight, though, work stops, and it is time for pleasure.”

  I nodded and accepted some more nuts and raisins from his fingers.

  “Each night, I choose one or more women from my harem to come to my bedchamber. I like to explore the physical pleasures that men and women can give, little bird. I enjoy watching my wives and concubines and slaves pleasure each other. And I know you will enjoy it too.”

  He beckoned to Farah, and she poured a small cup of wine, which he passed to me. I took a few sips to wash down the nuts and raisins.

  “Tonight, we will take it slow,” he said. “We will introduce you to the art of lovemaking, and give you pleasure like you have never known before. And only then will I make love to you, when you are ready, so it will hardly hurt at all.”

  I nodded, not really understanding. How would they give me pleasure? What did he mean by that?

  He tipped his head to the side at my obvious confusion. “Do you understand what it means to make love? To fuck?”

  The word made me cough a little, and I pressed my fingers to my lips. “I am not sure what the difference is.”

  He gave Farah an amused glance, and her lips curved in response. He shrugged. “There is not much difference. Making love is a little…gentler. More tender, maybe. Tonight, we will make love. Tomorrow…” His lips curved. “We will fuck.” He raised an eyebrow. “You understand what that means? Your mother explained it to you?”

  “Yes. She showed me the bull in the field mating with the cow.”

  Farah snorted, and the Prince started laughing, for some reason finding my comment highly amusing. Even the slave grinned.

  The Prince looked back at me, his eyes alight with humor. “No wonder you are nervous. I am going to enjoy showing you how wrong your mother can be. That poor woman, being married to your father.”

  He shook his head, and anger flashed briefly across his features, but he didn’t say anything more.

  He took the goblet from my fingers and gave it to the slave, then gestured at him. The slave turned and placed the goblet and tray on a table outside the curtains, then returned to stand before us.

  “This is Malik,” the Prince said. “You will get to know him very well. Say hello to him.”

  I looked up at the man. He was handsome too, although not quite as handsome as my husband, but he had attractive greenish eyes that danced as I met his gaze. His skin was a shade darker than the Prince’s, his arms muscular, and his bare torso gleamed in the candlelight.

  “Hello, Malik,” I said shyly.

  “Princess Alesha.” He bowed his head, but his eyes smiled into mine.

  “Undress them,” the Prince instructed him.

  My mouth immediately went dry.

  Farah stood and held out her hands. I put mine into them, and she pulled me to my feet.

  First of all, Malik turned to Farah, took the hem of her tunic in his hands, and drew it up her body. She raised her arms, and he pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  She stood before me, naked and unashamed, and smiled encouragingly as Malik turned to me.

  I held my breath as he bent and took the bottom of my tunic and drew it up my body. The silk whispered over my head, and then he dropped it to the floor.

  Malik and Farah stepped back, and I realized they were letting the Prince look at my naked body.

  Heart racing, I forced myself to turn and face him. Taking a chance, without waiting for him to ask, I lifted my gaze to his.

  He arched an eyebrow. I continued to look at him, lifting my chin, and waited to see if he would berate me. I would learn a step at a time, I told myself.

  His lips slowly curved up. “Get on the bed,” he said softly.

  I climbed on and lay back against the lush pillows, and Farah joined me, lying on my left. She stretched out on her side, propping her head on a hand, and winked at me.

  Together, we watched the two men undress. Malik was already bare-chested, but as
I watched, he untied the belt holding up his trousers and let them fall to the floor.

  I knew that men had cocks—I had seen enough young children in the harem to know the difference between men’s and women’s bodies, and after watching the bull mating with the cow and my mother’s somewhat coarse explanations, I understood what they did with them.

  I had no idea what a grown man’s cock looked like, though, and my eyes widened at the sight of Malik’s six inch phallus standing erect, straining toward me, thick and glistening. Was he going to put it in me? How would it fit? I said nothing, but my heart hammered against my ribs and my mouth went dry with fear.

  He climbed onto the bed to lie on my right, stretching out the same as Farah on my left.

  At the foot of the bed, my husband gathered the bottom of his short tunic in his hands and lifted it over his head. I stared at him, stunned by the sight of his taut, firm body, his muscular chest and arms that were covered with an attractive sprinkling of dark hair. He was amazing, and for the first time since I’d heard I was to be married, I thanked the stars in the sky that my father had agreed to give me to this man.

  Leaving on his trousers, he moved through the curtains to the table, picked up a small bottle, and returned. He climbed onto the bed and leaned forward to give the bottle to Malik, then lay across the bottom of the bed, facing me. He propped his head on a hand, and gestured to Malik to begin.

  The slave took the stopper out of the bottle and beckoned to Farah, who opened her left hand, palm uppermost. Malik poured a small circle of oil onto it, then did the same to himself. Replacing the stopper, he left the bottle on the coverlet and stretched back out.

  I looked up at Farah, who gave me an impish smile as she breathed onto the oil, warming it in on her palm. Holding her hand over my body, she trickled the oil up my arm, across my shoulder, and down between my breasts. Malik did the same on the other side. Then both of them placed their hands on me and began to stroke the oil over my skin.

  Propped up on the pillows, I met the Prince’s gaze. His eyes were dark and sultry, and his lips curved in a sexy smile as he saw me look at him. I like to explore the physical pleasures that men and women can give, he’d told me. He was enjoying watching his other wife and his slave touch me, and he would enjoy watching the way I responded to them.