Banished to the Harem by Carol Marinelli

Author:Carol Marinelli [Marinelli, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781408974483
Google: kSLq7xnl_k8C
Amazon: B008RW8DJ8
Publisher: Mills & Boon
Published: 2012-10-01T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

RAKHAL lay on the bed, waiting for the maidens to bring Natasha to him.

Music was softly playing and he could hear the sound of water and the maidens’ chatter as they bathed her. She did not return their conversation. He could see the occasional glimpse of her shadow on the white tented ceiling, could see locks of her hair and the curves of her body, and he did his best not to look at the teasing images. For though the room had been prepared, though the music and the scents had been chosen carefully to arouse, he knew he must resist.

They hadn’t been alone since their time back at the hotel. There had been no chance to explain things. Natasha would never have agreed to come with him, and neither could he have left her in London to deal with her brother alone—especially if there was a chance she was carrying his child.

He had never thought she would be brought to the desert. It had not entered his head that his father would insist on this night. But at least in his bed, alone, he could finally speak with her, reassure her.

But Natasha dreaded his bed. She could see his shadow on the ceiling as the maidens bathed her, and though last night had been wonderful she could not stand the thought of sleeping with him now—could not give in without a fight.

Natasha climbed out of the bath and shivered as the maidens oiled and dressed her in the flimsiest of gowns, and then led her through the tent towards his resting area. She willed fear to subside so that she might think.

‘I need my jewels,’ Natasha said, for they had been taken from her. She turned to the maidens. ‘If I am to be presented to him I need to wear my jewels.’

‘They are in your chambers,’ Amira, a maiden who spoke a little English, informed her. ‘They are safe there.’

‘You don’t understand. They were my mother’s,’ Natasha said. ‘And my grandmother’s. It is tradition that I should be wearing them.’

Amira gave a nod and led her to her room. Tradition was the one word that seemed to reach her.

‘And I need to pray,’ Natasha said, ‘before I put them on.’

Amira nodded and stepped outside as Natasha got down on her knees. She knew she had but a few minutes, and for the first time she was glad she had been brought to the desert—for here the walls were not made of stone, and she knew that this was her only chance.

Rakhal waited and he waited, trying to plan what he would say to her, how best he could make her understand. He knew she was out of the bath, had thought she should be with him now, but then this was unusual for him too. So he listened to the soft music, lay back on the bed. It was then that he heard the commotion, watched as a curtain parted.

But instead of Natasha, a panicked maid called

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