Читать книгу The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12 - Кейт Хьюит, Шантель Шоу - Страница 28

‘BY THE desert’s storm!’ murmured Eleni with a sense of wonder as she gently drew the horse to a halt. Her arduous journey over the inhospitable desert terrain was forgotten as she gazed up at Prince Kaliq’s magnificent palace—easily visible from the magnificent stable block where she had been taken and which was to be her new home.

She still couldn’t quite believe she was here—that her father had let her go so easily. He had simply shrugged his shoulders when she’d gone to say goodbye.

‘You are just like your mother.’ He had scowled. ‘I shan’t miss you.’ Then he had spat a piece of tobacco onto the ground and Eleni had shuddered. She suspected that he would miss her more than he anticipated—and wondered how he would feel about having to pay someone to cater to his every whim. The sheikh must have given him a princely sum, Eleni realised—for her father to accept her leaving the family home without trying to give her a beating.

And now she had a new home. A sheikh’s palace—surrounded by gardens of unbelievable splendour which seemed to make a mockery of the harsh desert which lay outside its high walls. Again, Eleni shook her head in wonder.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ she blurted out.

‘Indeed, it is famed for its loveliness,’ agreed the bodyguard, who had accompanied her on the long ride from her father’s home. ‘Sometimes the people arrive at the gate to pay homage to His Highness—they leave flowers for him and sweetmeats, too. And naturally the women come—to gaze upon his face.’ He turned to Eleni. ‘You have never seen the prince’s home before?’

‘No, never,’ Eleni said shyly as she dismounted Nabat and stroked his gleaming flank.

She had seen the main Calistan palace of course—in its strategic position which overlooked the busy Port of Aquila. She remembered her mother taking her there once on Flag Day—which was Calista’s biggest national holiday.

And what a bright and colourful day it had been—just the two of them—and the last such trip before her mother’s death. Maybe that was why it was etched for ever in Eleni’s memory.

The streets had been bursting with throngs of people who had flocked from all over Calista—all waving their flags and eager to see the royal procession as it passed through. To a young girl who was a stranger to the city, Eleni had been excited for days beforehand.

She had worn her best tunic with the matching trousers which Calistan women of all ages wore, and her long, thick hair had been woven with a pale green ribbon the same colour as her eyes. Beneath the wide, shady canopy of the date-trees which lined the route, her mother had given her sugared almonds and dried melon to eat. They had drunk the sweet juice of pomegranates while one of the court performers had sung the Destan, which was an epic poem sung in honour of the royal family.

As the coaches had gone by, Eleni remembered thinking how serene Queen Anya looked—and what a wonderful woman she must have been to have taken on Sheikh Ashraf’s seven motherless children. Seven! Imagine that. And she remembered her eyes being drawn to the ruggedly handsome Kaliq and wondering why his twin brother Aarif was nowhere to be seen.

Now she stared at the blue and golden palace which glittered in the afternoon sun with a faint sense of disbelief clinging to her skin. Who would ever have thought that she—Eleni Lakis—would one day stand in front of that same Kaliq’s home, employed as his stable girl! That his home was to be her home?

‘You will be shown to your quarters,’ said the bodyguard, but Eleni shook her head.

‘Thank you, but that must come later. First, I must settle Nabat into his new home.’

‘One of the lads will do that for you.’

‘No.’ Eleni shook her head firmly. She was aware of her responsibilities and aware too of how important it was for her to remain valuable to the sheikh. Because what would happen if she displeased him? Might he not send her packing straight back to her father?

She shuddered. Surely he would not do that. Hadn’t she sensed that the sheikh understood her relief to be away from the repressive and limited future which had lain ahead of her—or was that just wishful thinking on her part? No matter. She must now show him that he had made a wise decision to bring her here with him. She would be loyal. She would work her fingers to the bone. Up at first light and last to bed—she would make herself so indispensable that the sheikh would wonder how he had ever managed to run a successful stable without her!

‘I must do it myself,’ she said stubbornly.

The bodyguard shrugged. ‘Then I will return in half an hour with a female servant who will show you to your quarters.’

But Eleni barely noticed him go as her eyes drank in the royal stable complex. Here was everything a horse could possibly want—comfort, space and security—and for the first time she appreciated what a wonderful time Nabat was going to have.

Hosing him down until he was good and wet, she scraped him off, then gave him some hay and a drink. She was just putting a rug on his back when she heard the sound of footfall behind her and some instinct made her turn round and a strange shiver whispered its way over her skin when she saw just who stood there.

It was Kaliq.

He was standing in the doorway, the illumination of the magnificent sky behind him throwing his tall figure into silhouette. But the dark outline only seemed to emphasise his muscular physique and dominating presence—as vibrant and as powerful as the stallion itself.

A strange tremble began to whisper its way over her skin and her heart began to pound in that way which made Eleni feel very slightly faint. She wanted to seek sanctity from that blazing black gaze by looking at the ground as she had been taught over a lifetime of lessons in modesty and subservience. Yet had not the sheikh himself forbidden her to do that?

Ignoring the girl completely, Kaliq stood staring at the horse, just admiring the sheer magnificence of his latest acquisition until something untoward caught his eye. His lips curving with distaste, he walked over to the horse and lifted a corner of the worn rug which lay over the animal’s back. ‘What is this?’ he questioned acidly.

‘A rug, Highness,’ said Eleni helpfully. ‘I brought it with me. I always cover Nabat’s back with straw after I’ve hosed him down and then put this rug straight on top—you can see I have punched holes in it, so that the excess water can escape during the night. It is an excellent method of keeping the horse comfortable and dry.’

Kaliq was now staring at her in disbelief. ‘You mean, that you’ve brought this filthy old blanket with you all the way from your father’s house?’ he demanded.

She willed herself not to react to the insult. ‘Yes, Highness.’

‘But what about your clothes? Your belongings?’

‘They’re in that holdall over there,’ she said, pointing.

He scowled at the modestly sized and threadbare carpet-bag which was sitting on the straw. ‘And that’s all you’ve brought?’

‘Yes.’ Shamefully, Eleni felt a blush begin to stain her cheeks.

‘But you’re supposed to be here for good!’ he exploded. ‘Not for an overnight stay!’

‘There is no problem—I can wash my clothes out by hand every night, Highness. It is what I am used to.’

The irony did not escape him. One moment she was modestly looking at the ground—and yet now she was telling her prince about washing out her most intimate garments! Kaliq felt a slow rage begin to simmer in his blood—and not simply because she had been insubordinate. No, because that flush of pink to her cheeks had made her eyes look as green as pistachios and as bright as new leaves—and, unwittingly and inappropriately, he could feel the sudden hot stir of lust at his groin.

It was a familiar ache. An appetite which demanded to be fed. Desire could sometimes be all the more powerful when it was indiscriminate—and Kaliq was a highly sexed man.

Part of him wanted to throw her down onto the straw and have done with it. For there was no surer way of losing desire for a woman than to take your fill of her. But he sensed that Eleni might be slow to realise that her duty was to please her sheikh in every aspect that he demanded. His mouth curved into a smile. She would soon learn.

‘You may be a stable girl with nothing in the way of social engagements—but you are also a representative of the royal house of Al’Farisi,’ he bit out as he forced his mind away from the hard ache at his groin. ‘And as such—you will not be dressed in rags and looking like a scullery girl! Is that understood?’

‘Y-yes, Highness.’

He clapped his hands and a young, veiled servant appeared from the shadows. ‘This is Amina,’ he said briefly. ‘She will settle you in and ensure that you have something suitable to wear.’

Pleased that his irritation seemed to have disappeared, Eleni gave an obedient nod. ‘Thank you, Highness.’

His black eyes raked over her critically. ‘And make sure you wash that straw out of your hair.’

Her cheeks still stinging, Eleni dropped to a deep curtsey but he had already swept out and her heart began to pound nervously. Didn’t he realise how formidable he could be? How an inexperienced young woman could be daunted by the powerful mix of man and majesty?

Her fingers flew nervously to her hair. Did she really look such a fright, then? And she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to judge. Appearance had never been number one on Eleni’s list of priorities—there simply hadn’t been the time, quite apart from anything else.

Amina led the way through the back of the palace and even though Eleni knew that these were the servants’ quarters—it was still a brand-new experience for her. She could not imagine finding a scorpion here—or having to boot a rogue rat away from the back door.

And when at last Amina opened a door and indicated that Eleni should precede her, she thought that there must have been some kind of oversight.

‘What… what is this?’ she stumbled.

‘This is your room,’ said Amina, but Eleni shook her head and did not move.

‘There must be some kind of mistake,’ she told Amina as she took in the wide divan, the cool tiled floors and the intricate lamps which hung from the ceiling. Unshuttered windows looked out onto a serene rectangle of water where a fountain played soft, soothing music. It was like an illustration from one of those poetry books she used to read in school. The ones which used to send her off into an unachievable world of longing. Eleni swallowed. ‘These can’t be my quarters.’

Amina nodded. ‘But they are.’

‘And will I have to share the bed and the room with another servant?’

‘No, Eleni,’ said Amina gently. ‘You are in the royal palace now and that means you are to have your own room.’

Eleni’s heart beat faster with a kind of puzzled fear. ‘But… but I am just his stable girl!’

Amina’s expression remained closed. ‘My role here is simply to obey instructions, not to question them,’ she said. ‘And since the sheikh values his horses more highly than diamonds themselves—those who tend them are also highly valued.’

Was Eleni being ultra-sensitive—or was there something which Amina wasn’t telling her? ‘Thank you,’ she said uncertainly.

‘And there are new clothes hanging over here in that tall cupboard. Come and take a look.’

Eleni blinked as the girl opened the door, for surely this was a rail of clothes for twenty women and not just one? They were the typical Calistan tunic with slim-fitting trousers beneath—but these were made from silk, not the coarse cotton she was used to. And, like the rainbow which often followed the desert rains, Eleni had never seen so many hues—from vibrant to pale, with every shade in between.

‘And I have drawn you a bath,’ continued Amina.

Eleni stared at her. ‘A bath?’ she repeated blankly.

Amina pushed open yet another door and there, gleaming and steaming, was a large bath, set low into the ground and lined with gold. Eleni stood and gazed at it in dazzled fascination.

‘By the falcon’s wing!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who is this for?’

Amina gave a little smile. ‘It is for you, Eleni,’ she said gently. ‘All for you.’

Eleni blinked, the unexpected sting of salt blurring her eyes. ‘This is truly amazing,’ she whispered in awe.

Amina nodded. ‘I felt the same when first I was brought to the palace. Now, do you wish for me to assist you with your bathing?’

But if the thought of the bath was a daunting prospect, then the idea of getting naked in front of anyone made Eleni want to run a million miles in fear. ‘Oh, no! Thank you, Amina—but I will manage by myself.’

Seeing the wide, square bath filled with scented water had dazed her, but more shocking still was Eleni’s unexpected glimpse of herself in a mirror. How long since she had looked in a mirror? Not since school. Her father had banned them in the house as being indicators of vanity and there had seemed little need for her to gaze at herself.

But now she did and the sight which greeted her could not have been worse. Her face was engrained with desert dirt—and streaking over her cheeks were paler tracts where beads of sweat must have trickled down during the long, hot ride here. Her thick hair was dull and desperately in need of a wash and her clothes were covered with a fine layer of sand.

Eleni almost wept. Where was any trace of her femininity? Why, she looked more like a street urchin than a woman! With trembling fingers she pulled the dirty garments from her body—but as she turned she was confronted by another mirror and, in a way, this was even worse.

It was a full-length glass and she stared into it with a kind of horrified fascination at an Eleni she didn’t recognise. How rounded her little breasts looked—and how pink their tips. She had not realised how curved her body had become—or that her waist was as tiny as the trunk of a young walnut tree. And there was more, too…

For the first time she could see the dark triangle of hair which lay at the fork of her thighs and she shrank back in fear, resolutely turning her back on the image to climb into the bath. She let the warm water glide over her aching limbs with a sense of relief.

And disbelief.

Because this was Eleni’s first real taste of luxury and once again she almost wept, only this time with sheer joy, wondering how any experience could feel so utterly pleasurable.

She had learnt to find her enjoyment in simple things—like the feel of the wind on her hair when she was riding Nabat or the sight of a particularly beautiful sunset, sinking over the mighty splendour of the mountain. But this felt different. It felt…

Restlessly, Eleni stirred as ripples of water tickled at her skin and picked up the beautifully scented bar of soap. Her washing usually consisted of a hasty early-morning cold-water scrub in the outhouse while the rest of the world was sleeping. Yet just the touch of this soap was… was…

She swallowed as it foamed up into a creamy cascade of foam over her skin and she felt the oddest sensation as she tentatively stroked some onto her breast. A face swam into her mind. A dark, mocking face with hard black eyes and cruel, curving lips.

The soap dropped into the water with a splash and as Eleni hauled herself out of the bath with flailing and slippery limbs she couldn’t seem to stop herself from trembling.