‘You may be a stable girl with nothing in the way of social engagements—but you are also a representative of the royal house of Al’Farisi,’ he bit out as he forced his mind away from the hard ache at his groin. ‘And as such—you will not be dressed in rags and looking like a scullery girl! Is that understood?’
‘Y-yes, Highness.’
He clapped his hands and a young, veiled servant appeared from the shadows. ‘This is Amina,’ he said briefly. ‘She will settle you in and ensure that you have something suitable to wear.’
Pleased that his irritation seemed to have disappeared, Eleni gave an obedient nod. ‘Thank you, Highness.’
His black eyes raked over her critically. ‘And make sure you wash that straw out of your hair.’
Her cheeks still stinging, Eleni dropped to a deep curtsey but he had already swept out and her heart began to pound nervously. Didn’t he realise how formidable he could be? How an inexperienced young woman could be daunted by the powerful mix of man and majesty?
Her fingers flew nervously to her hair. Did she really look such a fright, then? And she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to judge. Appearance had never been number one on Eleni’s list of priorities—there simply hadn’t been the time, quite apart from anything else.
Amina led the way through the back of the palace and even though Eleni knew that these were the servants’ quarters—it was still a brand-new experience for her. She could not imagine finding a scorpion here—or having to boot a rogue rat away from the back door.
And when at last Amina opened a door and indicated that Eleni should precede her, she thought that there must have been some kind of oversight.
‘What… what is this?’ she stumbled.
‘This is your room,’ said Amina, but Eleni shook her head and did not move.
‘There must be some kind of mistake,’ she told Amina as she took in the wide divan, the cool tiled floors and the intricate lamps which hung from the ceiling. Unshuttered windows looked out onto a serene rectangle of water where a fountain played soft, soothing music. It was like an illustration from one of those poetry books she used to read in school. The ones which used to send her off into an unachievable world of longing. Eleni swallowed. ‘These can’t be my quarters.’
Amina nodded. ‘But they are.’
‘And will I have to share the bed and the room with another servant?’
‘No, Eleni,’ said Amina gently. ‘You are in the royal palace now and that means you are to have your own room.’
Eleni’s heart beat faster with a kind of puzzled fear. ‘But… but I am just his stable girl!’
Amina’s expression remained closed. ‘My role here is simply to obey instructions, not to question them,’ she said. ‘And since the sheikh values his horses more highly than diamonds themselves—those who tend them are also highly valued.’
Was Eleni being ultra-sensitive—or was there something which Amina wasn’t telling her? ‘Thank you,’ she said uncertainly.
‘And there are new clothes hanging over here in that tall cupboard. Come and take a look.’
Eleni blinked as the girl opened the door, for surely this was a rail of clothes for twenty women and not just one? They were the typical Calistan tunic with slim-fitting trousers beneath—but these were made from silk, not the coarse cotton she was used to. And, like the rainbow which often followed the desert rains, Eleni had never seen so many hues—from vibrant to pale, with every shade in between.
‘And I have drawn you a bath,’ continued Amina.
Eleni stared at her. ‘A bath?’ she repeated blankly.
Amina pushed open yet another door and there, gleaming and steaming, was a large bath, set low into the ground and lined with gold. Eleni stood and gazed at it in dazzled fascination.
‘By the falcon’s wing!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who is this for?’
Amina gave a little smile. ‘It is for you, Eleni,’ she said gently. ‘All for you.’
Eleni blinked, the unexpected sting of salt blurring her eyes. ‘This is truly amazing,’ she whispered in awe.
Amina nodded. ‘I felt the same when first I was brought to the palace. Now, do you wish for me to assist you with your bathing?’
But if the thought of the bath was a daunting prospect, then the idea of getting naked in front of anyone made Eleni want to run a million miles in fear. ‘Oh, no! Thank you, Amina—but I will manage by myself.’
Seeing the wide, square bath filled with scented water had dazed her, but more shocking still was Eleni’s unexpected glimpse of herself in a mirror. How long since she had looked in a mirror? Not since school. Her father had banned them in the house as being indicators of vanity and there had seemed little need for her to gaze at herself.
But now she did and the sight which greeted her could not have been worse. Her face was engrained with desert dirt—and streaking over her cheeks were paler tracts where beads of sweat must have trickled down during the long, hot ride here. Her thick hair was dull and desperately in need of a wash and her clothes were covered with a fine layer of sand.
Eleni almost wept. Where was any trace of her femininity? Why, she looked more like a street urchin than a woman! With trembling fingers she pulled the dirty garments from her body—but as she turned she was confronted by another mirror and, in a way, this was even worse.
It was a full-length glass and she stared into it with a kind of horrified fascination at an Eleni she didn’t recognise. How rounded her little breasts looked—and how pink their tips. She had not realised how curved her body had become—or that her waist was as tiny as the trunk of a young walnut tree. And there was more, too…
For the first time she could see the dark triangle of hair which lay at the fork of her thighs and she shrank back in fear, resolutely turning her back on the image to climb into the bath. She let the warm water glide over her aching limbs with a sense of relief.
And disbelief.
Because this was Eleni’s first real taste of luxury and once again she almost wept, only this time with sheer joy, wondering how any experience could feel so utterly pleasurable.
She had learnt to find her enjoyment in simple things—like the feel of the wind on her hair when she was riding Nabat or the sight of a particularly beautiful sunset, sinking over the mighty splendour of the mountain. But this felt different. It felt…
Restlessly, Eleni stirred as ripples of water tickled at her skin and picked up the beautifully scented bar of soap. Her washing usually consisted of a hasty early-morning cold-water scrub in the outhouse while the rest of the world was sleeping. Yet just the touch of this soap was… was…
She swallowed as it foamed up into a creamy cascade of foam over her skin and she felt the oddest sensation as she tentatively stroked some onto her breast. A face swam into her mind. A dark, mocking face with hard black eyes and cruel, curving lips.
The soap dropped into the water with a splash and as Eleni hauled herself out of the bath with flailing and slippery limbs she couldn’t seem to stop herself from trembling.
NEXT morning, Eleni arrived at the stable block soon after sunrise. Her first night’s sleep at the palace had been restless, probably because of the rich food she’d been given for dinner in the staff kitchen—food which she had