The Reluctant Princess Page 2

  “Are they his servants?” I whispered to Farah.

  “They are his slaves,” Farah said, drying my hair.

  “Slaves?” I puzzled over the word. I had possessed many servants, but struggled to comprehend the difference between the two statuses. Servants weren’t owned, but in return for their servitude they were looked after and given protection. Slaves were another person’s property though, weren’t they?

  “Do they resent their position?” I asked.

  “Resent?” Farah puzzled over the word. “They love the Prince. They are very… um… loyal to him.”

  Her words intrigued me. They loved him?

  “He cares for them,” she continued, obviously seeing my confusion. “He cares for all who are part of his household, whatever their… um… status? Yes, status.”

  “He cares for his wives?”

  She smiled, removing the damp robe and pulling the simple silk tunic over my head. “Very much. He is protective of them, considerate, and loving toward them.”

  She indicated a nearby table that contained slices of cooked meat and flat breads, and a bowl of fruit. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

  “No, thank you.” I scanned the tent. “Where is Nedira?”

  Her ministrations completed, she took my hand and led me through the partition to the tent’s entrance. Lifting the flap, she peered out, then gestured for me to join her, so I looked through.

  I caught my breath at the view. The night was crystal clear, the blue-black sky filled with thousands of stars. The sand dunes in the distance and the shapes of the minarets in the city were little more than dark shadows against the skyline. It was bitterly cold. Farther down the road, wrapped in thick blankets, the Prince stood with his arm around Nedira, both of them looking up at the sky as he pointed something out.

  “What are they doing?” I whispered.

  “Stargazing. They both love the stars. Every night they take a walk in the darkness and talk about the constellations.” Farah smiled, showing no jealousy for the time the Prince was spending with one of his other wives.

  She took me back inside, led me to a smaller pallet, and lifted the thick blankets to let me climb underneath. Then, to my surprise, she climbed in too, curling up behind me, sharing her body heat as she tucked the blankets around us. It was something I had done often with my sisters as a child but not since I had reached adulthood. I found it comforting, and did not object when she nestled close.

  Too long I had been deprived of human contact. It almost made me weep.

  Farah was quiet, and I wondered whether she was thinking about the Prince outside with Nedira. How strange that he should want to share his time with her, looking at the stars. I was oddly touched by that.

  “You love the Prince,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” she said. “With all my heart.”

  “You do not mind that he has three other wives?”

  She sighed. “I did, once. But I have learned to share him. It is not so bad. The harem is a happy place. The Prince treats us all the same. All of the Prince’s wives have children, and we are able to support each other.”

  “You have a child?” I asked, surprised. I turned onto my back to look at her.

  She propped her head on a hand, her eyes glowing with pride. “A beautiful baby boy. He is four months old. I left him at the Palace so I could come and meet you.”

  I was so touched, my throat tightened. “Thank you, Farah.”

  She shrugged. “I know the thought of marrying the Prince is…” She said something in her native tongue. “I do not know how to say it in French. Grrr!”

  I gave a small laugh. “Yes. It is very grrr!”

  “He can be strict and demanding. He likes to be obeyed. But underneath the stern Prince is a stallion—beautiful, jealous, and passionate, full of fire.”

  I did not want a husband who was full of fire. The thought of being married to a stallion frightened me. He did not sound like someone I wanted to know at all.

  “He is very skilled in the art of love,” Farah said, and she winked at me.

  I frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “I thought you had been married before?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you know about… um… fucking, yes?”

  I blinked. “Er… Yes.”

  “Your husbands, they were good in bed?”

  “Good? In what way?”

  “They pleasured you? You had…” She searched for the French word and said, “Orgasms?”

  I did not know the word. “What is an orgasm?”

  “Oh dear. No wonder you look so worried.” She rubbed her nose. “I have heard that many men take their pleasure from women without a thought to giving any in return. The Prince is not like that. It is important to him that everyone he takes to bed receives pleasure.”

  I was strangely fascinated. “In what way?”

  “You know what happens when men come? When they eject their seed?”

  I shuddered at the memory of my second husband forcing me to take his cock in my mouth, where it had spurted a foul liquid that had made me retch. “Yes.”

  “That is called an orgasm. Well women can have them too, only they do not eject seed. They do not have to come—to have an orgasm—to complete the sexual act, and even if they do it can take them a little longer than a man. Because of that many men cannot be bothered to take the time to pleasure them.”

  I puzzled over that. “Have you had an orgasm?”

  She giggled. “At least one and usually more every time he takes me to bed.”

  I stared at her, astounded. How had I not heard about this? “What does it feel like?”

  “It is wonderful, Eleanor, but it is not just the orgasms that are nice. The Prince is gentle and affectionate, and very loving. His bedchamber is a place of pleasure for all who enter it. He is very open about sex. I fear you may be shocked, but you must remember that he intends only to give enjoyment, never to hurt or punish.” She cocked her head and amusement lit her eyes. “Well, only occasionally.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. You will learn.”

  I swallowed, completely bewildered now by all this new information. “I do not know that I can do this. It is all so strange and frightening. I do not want to marry such a man.”

  “Do not worry about it now. Sleep, and we will talk again tomorrow.”

  I turned onto my side, fighting against more tears, which angered me as I did not cry easily. My body felt heavy and weary, but my brain would not rest, going over and over what Farah had told me. As I dozed off, though, it was the memory of the Prince’s brown eyes looking into mine that haunted me, and the strange feeling it gave me in the pit of my stomach.

  *

  I dozed for a while—it couldn’t have been long, but roused at the sound of low voices entering the tent. Behind me, Farah’s breathing was low and regular—she was asleep.

  Through the gap in the silk partitions, I saw the Prince and Nedira enter the “room” where his bed had been set up—a large pallet, covered with a huge mattress, silk sheets, and thick, embroidered blankets.

  They talked in low tones as they moved around, getting undressed, speaking in their native tongue, so I couldn’t make out their words. I thought maybe they were still discussing the stars, because at one point Nedira stopped and drew a pattern in the air, and the Prince walked forward to indicate the position of a star they must have been talking about.

  Then he said something, and Nedira laughed. The Prince, standing behind her, slid his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder, and she turned and lifted her arms around his neck and raised her lips to kiss him.

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  I sat up, trying not to disturb Farah, and leaned closer to the silk partitions to peer through the gap at them. I held my breath, knowing I should avert my eyes, but I couldn’t look away.

  I had expected Nedira to join Farah and me in the other “room
” on the empty pallet next to mine, but as she and the Prince kissed, I began to wonder if instead she would be sharing his bed tonight.

  Were they going to make love? Right there in the next room where Farah and I, and the slaves across from us behind their silk partition, could hear and see them?

  The two of them seemed unconcerned about that, however. The Prince cupped the back of her head, holding her there while he kissed her, and she murmured her approval, raising up on tiptoes to press herself against him.

  I watched his lips move across hers, slow and tender, and inhaled as I saw his tongue slide into her mouth. When my husbands had done that to me, it had made me feel sick, but Nedira did not seem to be repulsed by it.

  The Prince moved his hands down to her bottom and tightened them there, lifting her a little and pulling her against him. Again, though, she didn’t complain, and instead sunk her fingers into his hair and tried to press herself closer to him.

  He lifted his head and, talking softly to her, caught the base of her long tunic in his hands and pulled it up and over her head. The trousers she wore beneath it went the same way as the tunic, as did a smaller pair of silk pantaloons, leaving her in a beautiful silk chemise.

  The Prince raised his hands to her breasts and caressed them, and I watched him brush his thumbs across her nipples.

  I’d detested my husbands handling my breasts—they’d always been too rough, and my second husband especially had pinched and sucked my nipples hard, which I’d hated.

  I couldn’t understand why Nedira’s eyelids fluttered as if she was enjoying his touch, and why, when he kissed her again, she moaned softly. What was he doing that was so pleasurable? What did it feel like?

  Before long, the chemise followed her other clothes, and she stood before him naked. Her creamy brown skin glowed in the candlelight.

  Unashamed, she whispered in his ear as she pulled up the blue tunic he had changed into, and then lifted it over his head.

  My previous husband had been almost as wide as he was tall, with pale, sweaty skin, a stomach that hung over his belt, and loose, flabby muscles.

  My lips parted at the sight of the Prince’s bare torso. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist with a flat stomach. Every muscle in his arms and chest looked firm and defined, shining in the candlelight. I had never seen a man like him.

  I understood why Nedira was looking at him with such wonder. She placed her hands on his chest and ran them over his shoulders and down his arms, and I could only imagine what his muscles felt like.

  He tipped his head, smiling at her as she admired him, and then when she reached his hands and interlinked their fingers, he put his arms around her, pinning her hands behind her back.

  She laughed and struggled to free them, but he refused to let her go and instead brushed his lips up her neck and nibbled her ear, making her squirm.

  I watched them play, feeling a strange envy at the way they were making love. What must it feel like to have a man worship your body in that way? To have him kiss you gently, sensually?

  The Prince finally released her hands, only to push her back onto the bed. She fell onto the soft mattress, and before she could rise, he leaned over her and touched his lips to hers, then kissed down her neck.

  I pressed my fingers to my lips as he reached her breast, and I watched him cover her nipple with his mouth. I couldn’t imagine what he was doing, because Nedira didn’t cry out in pain, or squeal, or try to push him away.

  Instead, she arched her back as if encouraging him, moaning softly and sinking her hands into his hair as he swapped to the other nipple, then back again, teasing her with his lips and tongue.

  I couldn’t believe I was watching them, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

  The Prince kissed down her stomach, and then to my shock dropped to his knees on the carpet in front of her.

  He pushed her legs wide, but instead of fighting him, she lay back and stretched her arms above her head, purring like a cat. I stared, jaw dropping, as he brushed his fingers down her pussy, and then I clapped a hand over my mouth as he lowered his lips and kissed her there.

  I was only a few feet away from the end of the bed, to the side of where he knelt, and I could see clearly as he slid his tongue into her folds and licked right up the center of her pussy.

  I fought to hide a gasp. I had not known that men did that to women. On many occasions, my previous husband had forced his cock into my mouth and made me suck him until he came, but he had never done this to me. I was glad—I would have hated such a disgusting man kissing me down there.

  But the notion of the handsome Prince doing the same…

  What did it feel like? It must have felt good, I thought, listening to Nedira’s long, soft moans.

  My gaze returned to the Prince, and I observed for a while as he kissed, licked, and sucked, clearly in no hurry to stop. After a while, his fingers joined his mouth, and I stared as he inserted two fingers into her.

  When my husband had done that to me, it had hurt and had made me feel violated, but Nedira moaned again and only opened her legs wider to give the Prince better access.

  He continued to slide his fingers inside her and lick her. I had never seen anything as erotic as the Prince’s dark head moving between her thighs.

  A flush spread across her cheeks, and her breaths gradually changed from long and rhythmic to short and irregular. I stared, fascinated, as she appeared to hold her breath. Her body tensed, and she clenched her fingers in his hair, covering her mouth with a hand to try to hide a series of deep gasps.

  Was she in pain? She didn’t look it, and the Prince didn’t stop, although I noticed him stroking her thigh with his other hand.

  I remembered Farah’s words: It is important to him that everyone he takes to bed receives pleasure. Was this an orgasm, then?

  Eventually he raised his head and lifted up, saying something that made her smile lazily. He undid the tie at his waist and removed his trousers, gesturing for her to move up the bed before he climbed on it.

  I couldn’t remember much about my French husband’s cock—nervous and scared, I hadn’t really looked at it before he shoved it in me. My second husband’s had been like an uncooked sausage, limp and pale, and I had always looked away when he’d massaged himself to make it hard enough to enter me.

  I stared at the sight of the Prince’s cock standing proud of his body, long and thick, surrounded by dark curly hair. Kneeling between Nedira’s thighs, he took his cock in his hand and gave it a few long strokes before leaning over her and guiding the tip into her entrance.

  I watched, breathless, as he pushed his hips forward and buried himself inside her.

  Nedira purred and wrapped her legs around his waist, and he settled himself comfortably on top of her, beginning to give slow, leisurely thrusts. The muscles in his back and bottom bunched and flexed as he moved, and Nedira lifted her hips to meet each thrust as if enjoying the feel of him inside her.

  He murmured to her in between kisses. I couldn’t hear what he was saying and wouldn’t have been able to understand it if I had, but I knew they were words of love, because with his gentle manner and affectionate touch, it couldn’t have been anything else.

  At one point, she said something to him and he laughed, then held her tightly and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She pushed herself up to sit astride him, and he filled his palms with her breasts as she began to rock her hips.

  Neither of my husbands had ever taken me this way—they had always done it either lying on top of me, or more commonly from behind with me on all fours like an animal. I had often wondered if this was because they didn’t have to look at my face and see my pain and discomfort.

  How would it feel to be the one on top of the man like that? The Prince lifted his hips as Nedira moved, but she was obviously dictating the pace, and clearly enjoying it. Eyes closed, she dropped her head back, her dark hair tumbling to her hips, while the Prince stroked her breasts and brushed across
her nipples, apparently enjoying the view.

  She linked her fingers with his, and he lifted his hands above his head, bringing hers with them so she leaned over him. Taking the opportunity to catch her nipple in his mouth, he sucked, and she ground against him, her face creasing with pleasure.

  It wasn’t much longer before her breaths began to turn ragged again. Clearly sensing the same thing, he caught her around the waist and flipped her easily onto her back once more.

  Supporting himself on his hands, almost kneeling beneath her, he finally thrust harder, but instead of protesting or crying out, Nedira welcomed him plunging inside her. Their gentle, affectionate lovemaking became passionate and intense. I was not surprised when she gasped the same way she had done before, her body tightening with a series of what must have been pleasurable pulses.

  The Prince rode them out, and then only moments later, as Nedira’s eyes fluttered open, he came too, his muscles stiffening and his hips jerking as he filled her with his seed. Nedira watched him, her eyes filled with love, not hatred, and it made my own eyes fill with tears.

  I had not known the sexual act could be tender and passionate like this. Was the Prince the same way with all his wives and lovers? Farah had implied he was. How strange that he would have so many women, and that he should have enough love to go around.

  The Prince withdrew and lifted off to lie beside Nedira. He pulled her into his arms and drew the sheet and blankets over them. She rested her head on his shoulder and mumbled something, and the Prince chuckled and kissed her forehead, his arms tight around her. They continued to talk for a while, their voices low, occasionally exchanging kisses.

  My feet had grown cold, and I slid back beneath the blankets of my own bed and turned to Farah for warmth. She murmured and cuddled up to me, still asleep.

  I lay in the darkness, looking up at the ceiling of the tent, listening to the Prince and his wife talk until eventually they grew quiet and slept. Could I be happy as part of this extended family?

  The whole concept of a man having more than one wife was alien to me, and yet I found it strangely appealing. I hadn’t had any close friends since I was a child, and in neither of my marriages had anyone made the effort to make me feel welcome or at ease as these two women had done. And yet the priests of my own country would say taking more than one wife was a sin.