Assassin: A Novel by Ted Bell

Author:Ted Bell [Bell, Ted]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Suspense, Adventure
ISBN: 9781416587125
Amazon: 1416587128
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2008-05-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Emirate

BLESSED AND ACCURSED. THAT IS MY LIFE, THE FATE I HAVE made for myself, Snay bin Wazir thought, gazing upon the lovely face of his Rose. The Pasha and the Rose, lounging atop silken pillows scattered across the parquetry flooring, watched the two sweating sumos inside the dohyo, the ring, watched them collide, grunting loudly as they did so.

Snay bin Wazir was also watching Rose, keenly aware of her reaction to the private demonstration he’d arranged for the two of them, alone, in the beautiful shrine he’d had built for his sumos. Her lips were parted and she was breathing rapidly. Her bosom swelled rhythmically. There was a light sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Far from being repelled by the sight and sounds of two nearly naked giants grappling with each other, she was, it seemed, decidedly excited.

The sight of her erect nipples, etched in perfect relief against the taut yellow silk of her chemise, was having an increasingly noticeable effect on the Pasha as well.

The Pasha looked down upon this growing evidence of passion beneath his robes and sighed. The potent admixture of desire and frustration was something he’d always dealt with badly.

All of his latest efforts to bed this most prized of all the hashishiyyun in his seraglio of assassins had failed. Since Francesca had arrived at his palace from Rome, he had plied her with jewels, enormous rubies and diamonds. One sapphire as big as a plum. Gifts of sable and myrrh and gold. Nothing, it seemed, had any effect on this most sublime of creatures. She was, as he constantly reminded himself, one of the world’s most beautiful and desirable women.

Francesca. Even her name stirred him, inflamed him, ignited fireworks of fantasy deep in his brain. Francesca. Sleeping alone in the desert, a fortnight ago, he’d written the word in the sand outside his Bedouin tent. Awakening, he saw the wind had erased her name. Why did he torture himself? It was foolishness. This forlorn desire of his did nothing but demean him. She was a world-famous film star with a considerable personal fortune. A creature of such transcendent beauty, she could bat one of her enormous brown eyes and instantly have any man she might desire groveling at her feet.

Hopeless!

He could not force himself upon her, she was far too valuable. Should he lose her, there would be hell to pay with the Emir, who rightfully considered her a great asset. Born of a Roman father and a Syrian mother, Francesca had grown up begging on the backstreets of Damascus. Abused as a child by her cruel Italian father, she had, since childhood, nursed a fevered hatred for the impious Westerners who ruled the world. Her celebrity cover, achieved over the last decade, was ideal. A rabid holy warrior in the guise of a glamorous Italian film star. It was too delicious for words.

Still, it meant he could not buy her affection with gems or gold. Yet there was something powerful between them.

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