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Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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me,” he ordered in a soft, pleading voice.
She shook her head, terrible grief flooding her being as she strove to not meet his gaze. She tried to turn her head away but he would not allow it, bracing her face toward him, instead.
“Tell me what has upset you, my love,” he begged. “Did you feel hurt? Are you…?”
“I hurt, Dagan!” she sobbed.
“I don’t…”
“I hurt for you!”
He blinked, his handsome face screwed into confusion. “For me?”
“They maimed you,” she cried, tears cascading down her face. “You can not feel what I just felt and I…”
“Shush,” he whispered, drawing her head to his chest. “My love, no. Do not think of such things now.”
“I can’t help it! I want to give you pleasure as I just felt and I will never be able to!”
Dagan closed his eyes as he cooed to her, rocking her back and forth in his arms as though she were a child. Her tears were wetting the front of his silk shirt, plastering it to his flesh.
“I love you,” she whined.
“I know,” he replied, “and I love you.”
Jameela held her breath, lifting her head to look up at him. She searched his face and when he opened those beautiful amber eyes and locked them with hers, she felt her world tilt off center. “You do?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
“You know I do,” he said huskily.
Before Jameela could express her soaring joy at his admission, the door to the room opened and there was a quick, interfering cough. She watched Dagan’s face become hard, almost frightening, before he turned to confront the intruder.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Brother Qutaybah took a step into the room. “It is time for the Master to inspect the troops so…”
“I will be right there!” Dagan snapped.
“There are things that must be done beforehand,” Brother Qutaybah continued.
“I said I will be right there!” Dagan shouted, his eyes glowing red with murderous intent.
Brother Qutaybah’s eyes slid accusingly to Jameela briefly. He regarded her with ill-disguised disdain, sniffed then turned to leave.
“Don’t ever enter this room again without knocking,” Dagan ordered. “Is that understood?”
The Master’s chancellor bowed his head then shut the door with an angry snap.
“I hate him more each passing day,” Dagan said between clenched teeth.
“As do I,” Jameela agreed.
Dagan’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I will see about ridding us of his presence then.”
“No!” she said, afraid of what might happen to Dagan if he carried through with his threat. “Leave him be. He’s the Master’s right hand.”
“He can be replaced, Wench,” Dagan insisted.
“Please?” she beseeched, her head tilted to one side. “Leave him be.”
Dagan pursed his lips. “I’ll think on it,” he said.
She watched him get to his feet. Her eyes slid possessively over his tall frame and at his snort she looked up into his face, blushing at his knowing look.
“When will I see you again?” she asked, never sure when he would venture into her cell.
“There will be a calling for you this eve,” he said and avoided her gaze.
Jameela swallowed. “The Master will send for me?”
Dagan nodded. “Bathe with the gardenia soap and use its oil to perfume yourself,” he said. “That is his favorite scent.” He glanced back at her when he reached the door. “And wear the pale green gown with the pearls on the neckline. He fancies you in that.”
Surprise flitted across Jameela’s face. “He has seen me in that gown?”
“He misses nothing, Wench,” he replied and left the room.
Jameela stood with her lower lip tucked between her teeth. The news that the Master would be sending for her set her heart to racing and she wasn’t all that sure it was simple nerves. The thought of experiencing the heady release he had given her in the Chamber brought a scarlet glow to her cheeks.
Chapter Four
Dagan was bone-tired as he climbed the stairs to his quarters. He lifted his right
She shook her head, terrible grief flooding her being as she strove to not meet his gaze. She tried to turn her head away but he would not allow it, bracing her face toward him, instead.
“Tell me what has upset you, my love,” he begged. “Did you feel hurt? Are you…?”
“I hurt, Dagan!” she sobbed.
“I don’t…”
“I hurt for you!”
He blinked, his handsome face screwed into confusion. “For me?”
“They maimed you,” she cried, tears cascading down her face. “You can not feel what I just felt and I…”
“Shush,” he whispered, drawing her head to his chest. “My love, no. Do not think of such things now.”
“I can’t help it! I want to give you pleasure as I just felt and I will never be able to!”
Dagan closed his eyes as he cooed to her, rocking her back and forth in his arms as though she were a child. Her tears were wetting the front of his silk shirt, plastering it to his flesh.
“I love you,” she whined.
“I know,” he replied, “and I love you.”
Jameela held her breath, lifting her head to look up at him. She searched his face and when he opened those beautiful amber eyes and locked them with hers, she felt her world tilt off center. “You do?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
“You know I do,” he said huskily.
Before Jameela could express her soaring joy at his admission, the door to the room opened and there was a quick, interfering cough. She watched Dagan’s face become hard, almost frightening, before he turned to confront the intruder.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Brother Qutaybah took a step into the room. “It is time for the Master to inspect the troops so…”
“I will be right there!” Dagan snapped.
“There are things that must be done beforehand,” Brother Qutaybah continued.
“I said I will be right there!” Dagan shouted, his eyes glowing red with murderous intent.
Brother Qutaybah’s eyes slid accusingly to Jameela briefly. He regarded her with ill-disguised disdain, sniffed then turned to leave.
“Don’t ever enter this room again without knocking,” Dagan ordered. “Is that understood?”
The Master’s chancellor bowed his head then shut the door with an angry snap.
“I hate him more each passing day,” Dagan said between clenched teeth.
“As do I,” Jameela agreed.
Dagan’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I will see about ridding us of his presence then.”
“No!” she said, afraid of what might happen to Dagan if he carried through with his threat. “Leave him be. He’s the Master’s right hand.”
“He can be replaced, Wench,” Dagan insisted.
“Please?” she beseeched, her head tilted to one side. “Leave him be.”
Dagan pursed his lips. “I’ll think on it,” he said.
She watched him get to his feet. Her eyes slid possessively over his tall frame and at his snort she looked up into his face, blushing at his knowing look.
“When will I see you again?” she asked, never sure when he would venture into her cell.
“There will be a calling for you this eve,” he said and avoided her gaze.
Jameela swallowed. “The Master will send for me?”
Dagan nodded. “Bathe with the gardenia soap and use its oil to perfume yourself,” he said. “That is his favorite scent.” He glanced back at her when he reached the door. “And wear the pale green gown with the pearls on the neckline. He fancies you in that.”
Surprise flitted across Jameela’s face. “He has seen me in that gown?”
“He misses nothing, Wench,” he replied and left the room.
Jameela stood with her lower lip tucked between her teeth. The news that the Master would be sending for her set her heart to racing and she wasn’t all that sure it was simple nerves. The thought of experiencing the heady release he had given her in the Chamber brought a scarlet glow to her cheeks.
Chapter Four
Dagan was bone-tired as he climbed the stairs to his quarters. He lifted his right
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