Page 24 of Kismet

Chapter 7

The women guided Allegra past a flap of woolen material into a large tent. Rana stood in the center of the dwelling. The woman’s hatred was visible in her expression and stance. Allegra had seen this reaction before at Madame Eugenie’s when a new girl entered the brothel and unknowingly stole a regular customer from another girl.

She was a threat, and Rana intended to put her in her place. It was clear whose domain they were in, and the attitude of all the women changed as Rana barked several commands. They immediately pushed Allegra into the center of the tent and began removing her clothes.

Protesting, she tried to shove their hands aside, but someone held her arms to prevent her from interfering, while another woman ripped the fabric of her shirtwaist while removing it from her back. Her fear receded, and in its place grew a furious outrage. With a deep-throated cry, she found the strength to break free, sending two of the women tumbling to the carpeted flooring.

Rana’s response was to step forward, and slap Allegra so hard her head whipped sideways. The shocking sting of the blow was so unexpected she simply stood there mute and unresisting as the women ripped the remainder of her clothing off her body.

Completely naked, she was immobilized by the humiliation of her situation. She could barely think as two of the women set about washing her. Their efforts were fast and efficient, but it was the whispers and snickering of the other women in the tent that made the entire experience mortifying. Rana smiled smugly as she watched.

Leaning forward, the woman poked at Allegra’s breasts then turned her head and said something to the other women, causing them to laugh. Allegra swallowed hard. Not even at Madame Eugenie’s had she ever been treated with such contempt. Clearly relishing her power, Rana sent her a malicious look and reached out to viciously pinch a nipple. Allegra’s reaction was a mixture of fury and self-preservation as she slammed her fist into the other woman’s jaw. The blow sent Rana sprawling across the rug-covered floor into a mass of colorful pillows. Trembling with rage, Allegra glared down at the woman.

“If you ever touch me like that again, I’ll kill you,” she said through clenched teeth.

She had no idea if the woman understood French, but she doubted the woman knew any English. The woman released a howl of anger, but she didn’t move from where she’d fallen. Satisfied the woman would leave her alone at least for the time being, she turned to see the other women huddled together watching her with an expression of awe.

“Vous”—she pointed toward the woman closest to her—“bring me something to wear, now.”

The woman moved quickly to one corner of the tent and retrieved several articles of clothing. She dressed quickly in the Bedouin garments. The wide sherwals covering her legs were far less confining than her own undergarments, but the wool material of the long top she pulled over her head was itchy. Sliding her feet into the smooth leather slippers the woman had provided, she turned and headed for the flap leading out into the encampment. When she reached the exit all the women erupted into wild, shrill cries.

Allegra came to an abrupt halt and glared over her shoulder. The women fell silent. Satisfied they would remain quiet, she pushed the tent flap aside and stepped out into the evening air. A water bag hung from the tent pole, and she quickly reached for it. The liquid soothed her rough throat, and when she’d had her fill, she drew in a deep breath of desert air that still smelled of heat. As she stared out at the open plains that encircled the camp the barren landscape left her feeling just as desolate as the scenery stretching out before her.

Far off in the distance she saw the Atlas Mountain range that in Marrakech had been so close and now was so far away. Stifling the fear that threatened to regain control of her, she reminded herself how she’d shaped her destiny ever since arriving at Madame Eugenie’s.

Destiny, something the henna artist had mentioned earlier today. She looked at her hand and the beautiful painting on her skin. Somewhere along the way, the gauze wrap had disappeared from her hand, but the tattoo was unblemished. Shaheen’s destiny. She didn’t know what the woman had meant by that, but it was clear the only person who was going to save her now was herself.

Thirsty again, she took another long swallow of water from the bag. Slinging the goatskin over her shoulder, she slowly walked along the outer edges of the encampment. It was a small miracle her captors had not kidnapped Millie and Laila as well. Escaping this desert prison would be difficult enough by herself, but with three of them, it would have been almost impossible. But she would find a way to escape, and she would do it without entering the Sheikh’s bed.

She’d seen too many men of his temperament before not to understand him. The man believed that simply because he wanted something he was entitled to it. But he wasn’t, particularly where she was concerned. Her life had given her the freedom to go where she liked and to do as she wished.

And it had given her the right to say no to a man like Nassar.

She had no desire to go back to what she’d been before Arthur had taken her away from Madame Eugenie’s. There was only danger, disrespect, and humiliation in that life. She’d come too far to return to a time where her only value as a human being was for what her body could give a man. Even if it meant her very survival, she wasn’t certain she could submit herself to that existence again.

She swallowed hard at the thought. The easiest way to keep that from happening was to find her means of escape. She knew which way was west, which told her the other cardinal directions. In her political studies, she’d learned the strategic importance of many different countries, and Morocco had been one of them.

Although she still had much to learn about the country, she was familiar enough with its geography to know the general direction of Marrakech. But staying the course to reach the city would be far more difficult. Daylight meant she had no place to hide when Nassar came after her. And he would come after her. Her best chance of escape would be after dark, and astronomy was not her forte. In truth, riding away from this camp was little more than suicide at best.

But the other option was no less dangerous. If she stayed, she had no choice but to deal with Nassar. It had been a long time since she’d endured a night with someone of the Sheikh’s temperament. Her first three years in Madame Eugenie’s had introduced her to all manner of beasts disguised as men.

She’d forced herself to charm them into doing what she wanted, manipulating the situation to her advantage. She’d hidden her revulsion and distanced herself from the entire experience. But that had been so long ago. She’d been independent for too many years. It would be difficult to act submissive and docile. And that was precisely what the Sheikh expected of her. He would demand her subservience, and if she refused, her very survival might be at risk.

No, she would have to leave tonight. It was the only option open to her.

Something akin to relief filled her limbs. There was a sense of comfort in making a decision and forming a plan of action. She had something to work toward now. The next step was finding transportation. She’d yet to see any guards around the perimeter of the camp, but she was certain there would be someone guarding the livestock.

She continued to circle the camp until she came upon a young boy feeding and watering several horses tethered to a line. For a long moment, she simply stared at the animals. Salvation had never been so close and yet so distant. The boy must have sensed her, because he turned his head and eyed her warily. She forced a smile to her face and continued past the animals without giving them more than a cursory glance. The last thing she wanted was to have the boy tell someone she’d been near the horses. Deliberately, she forced herself to keep her pace moderate as she walked away.

A fragile hope lit its lamp inside her. It had taken her captors less than a day to bring her here by wagon. That meant a horse and rider would be able to travel much faster. Marrakech might not be all that distant if she could slip away with one of the Arabians she’d seen. Her optimism quickly evaporated as she considered what Nassar would do to her if he caught her trying to flee.

She touched her scalp where the roots were still sore from where the man had pulled her hair. The Sheikh wouldn’t hesitate to punish her in some way, and it would be something far worse than pulling her hair. He’d threatened to beat her if she committed a smaller transgression. Any attempt to escape would be a challenge to his authority. A challenge she was certain he would punish harshly. She shivered at the notion. It didn’t matter.

The only other choice was one she refused to make.

When she returned to the women’s tent she pushed aside the flap and entered quietly. The women were seated around a large tray of food centered in their midst. Ignoring them, Allegra looked around for her own clothes, but they were gone. A shudder rippled through her as she saw her nemesis eyeing her with malevolence. The woman’s hatred was almost tangible.

Could she use that to her advantage? Would the woman help her escape or betray her for the simple pleasure of seeing her punished? Something told her it would be the latter. She turned away from the women and sank down onto a small pallet. A moment later, one of the women approached her with a small bowl of food.