Sultana Read Online Free PDF Page B

intellectual knowledge. Only power, wealth, and mastery of his destiny offered security.
    When he entered his house, the warmth of the first chamber enveloped him. The source of heat was a metal brazier, emitting the fragrant scent of sandalwood. Green and white cushions lined the base of pale yellow, stucco walls. A low table stood in the center of the room and underneath it, a plush, multicolored carpet covered the floor. Brass lanterns glowed hot, illuminating the windowless room. An arch to the left led to the courtyard from which his steward, Marzuq, approached.
    Marzuq bowed, thick blond curls falling over his youthful face. His sky blue eyes glowed with pleasure and admiration. “Congratulations on your marriage.We didn’t expect you so early, master.”
    Faraj grimaced. “Tell my women I’m waiting.”
    He bypassed the servant and headed for his apartment in the harem. Soon his concubines, the jawari , appeared outside the door. They were three of the most beautiful women in his estimation. Rarely did a night pass where at least one of them did not tempt him to call her to bed. They were each around his age, but their differences were stark. Baraka was Genoese with dark brown hair, skin like alabaster and a petulant nature. Hayfa was a beautiful Nubian, tall and lithe with a sweet disposition. Samara was a Provençal with white skin and black hair. While she behaved like a mouse, she was a lioness in his bed.
    Frowns and downcast eyes greeted him, instead of welcoming smiles and limbs.
    “Why do you look so forlorn?” He forced a measure of concern into his voice.
    “How can you wonder? You’re married now.” Baraka’s pink lips pouted.
    “Why should my marriage displease you? You have always had my affections. This won’t change.”
    “But your wife may not like us, master.” Hayfa whimpered.
    “What if she tries to sell us?” Samara added, her words ending on a sob.
    He groaned aloud. “You are mine. My wife would never dare sell any of you.”
    Baraka said,“Bad enough we must share you with each other, but now you are married. Is she more beautiful than me, your princess?”
    Exasperated, he rolled his eyes. “Princess Fatima is a child, with several more years to pass before she reaches womanhood. Then she’ll be my true wife, subject to my will and whims. She’ll accept your presence because she has no other choice.”
    Baraka said, “Still, master, you do not answer me. You do not tell us if she’s beautiful.”
    Her impudence made her the most disagreeable of his jawari, but she excited him beyond measure. For the entertainment she provided, both in and out of his bed, he forgave her much.
    “You’re all slaves. I don’t have to submit to your questioning. I do so simply because I don’t wish to hurt you. Lest you forget yourselves, remember I am your master and you have no right to question me. Each of you would do well to keep that in mind, lest you find yourselves at auction soon.”
    As he expected, Samara and Hayfa burst into tears, while Baraka’s pout grew defiant. He dismissed the others and tugged Baraka to the bed. He banished her displeasure with kisses along her throat and shoulders until she surrendered.
    Later, he rolled on his stomach, replete in the enjoyment of the concubine’s charms. Baraka traced a nail across his shoulder. “I can stay if you like, master.”
    “You’ll leave now. You know the custom.”
    He waited for her sigh before she stood and wrapped her alabaster body in silk. When none of this happened, he dragged the coverlet from her. “Go, Baraka.”
    Her arm snaked around his shoulder, fingers at the nape. “Why do you send me away? I only want to comfort you, master.”
    “And you have. Now you may go.”
    She brushed a pert nipple against him and kissed his ear, nibbling on the lobe. Her other hand threaded wispy curls of hair on his belly and drifted downward. “Your body cannot say no to Baraka.”
    He pushed her back among the pillows.