The Kadin - Bertrice Small [51]
“No, madam. Change nothing. I weep with discovery of the love that surrounds me. I have no regrets. The garden is lovely.”
“Very well, then come and see my nephew’s crowning touch, for he had a bit of Turkey placed in your Highland glen.” Leading her charge away from the pool, she pointed to the exquisite pale-pink marble kiosk at the far end of the garden. “Selim calls it the ‘dawn kiosk,’ because the first rays of the morning sun touch it and reflect the aurora colors on its dome. Do you like it?”
Wordlessly, Cyra nodded.
Lady Refet smiled. “There will be time to explore later, but now it is time for you to rest.”
They reentered the salon, and Cyra again silently admired her new riches—the thick, colorful rugs spread about the floors, the shining brass and copper lamps, the polished woods of the furniture, the rainbow silks and velvets of the cushions and draperies.
Lady Refet moved to a wall. “Here is a secret entry and exit to your bedchamber.” She gently pressed a barely visible raised carving on a beam. The wall slid open, and she stepped through, beckoning Cyra to follow her. “Tell no one of this and use it only in an emergency,” she counseled.
The bedchamber was a miniature of the salon. A large sleeping couch hung with green silk curtains and set on an elevated gilded platform dominated one wall. In the corner next to it was a tiled fireplace.
At a clap of her hands, two pretty slave girls appeared before Lady Refet “This is Fekriye, and this is Zala. They are yours,” she said.
The two girls bowed and, without a word, set about divesting Cyra of her garments and replacing them with her nightclothes.
“And now, my dear, I leave you to your dreams. I am sure they will be happy ones.” Kissing her nephew’s new ikbal on the forehead, she left the room.
“When shall we awaken you, my lady?” asked Zala.
“At the hour before midday,” replied the suddenly exhausted girl.
The two slaves bowed and left their mistress.
Cyra lay down on her couch, but she could not sleep. Restlessly, she shifted her position several times. She finally arose and, snatching a cloak from her wardrobe, walked out into the garden. The sky was awash with color, the sun just beginning to rise as she reached the kiosk. Here, alone with herself, she could try to sort out the thoughts that tumbled through her mind.
Prince Selim was in love with her. This much she was certain of, for no man other than one in love could have been so gentle with her. That she was young and inexperienced, she knew; but only a fool could have missed the hunger in his eyes. He was the master, and she the slave. Yet he had gone out of his way to please her. Would he be the same with the others? No, she decided, he would not He would expect them to behave as they had been taught in his father’s harem.
With a shock she realized the power that was potentially hers. She must tred lightly, for he was not a man to be ruled by a woman, no matter how deep his feelings. And unless she gave him a son before one of the others.… His influence was good only as long as he lived.
The others! She felt a stab of jealousy prick her. He could send for any one of the others at any time; and even if he did not right away, when she became pregnant he would not wait Selim Khan was a healthy and lusty young man, and Cyra was a realist.
“No, no, no,” she whispered fiercely, and then, remembering his kisses, his caresses, his hands gently exploring the secret places of her body, she flushed and grew warm. She wanted to go back to his bed and be loved, and then afterward sit facing him and talk.
Am I in love or am I simply a shameless wanton? she questioned herself. She did not know. Slowly she rose and walked back into her bedchamber. I must sleep, she thought. If I do not, I shall look like an ancient hag tonight. Oh, Allah, let the day go quickly.
14
THE SUMMONS CAME AT NOON, and, with it, Selim’s gifts to his beloved in honor of their first night together—and as a token of his pleasure with her.
The little harem had gathered in