The Sheik Retold(28)

To my surprise, the sheik introduced him to me. "My lieutenant, Yusef, a son of the desert with the soul of a flaneur. His body is here with me, but his heart is on the trottoirs of Algiers." The tall lad laughed and salaamed profoundly, then straightened himself when a curt word from the sheik recalled him to his errand. I studied the lieutenant as he stood before his chief. Yusef was tall and slender with a strikingly handsome face only saved from effeminacy by a firm chin. His air of languid indolence was slipping fast as he talked. He looked nervous, as if in awe of his chief. This deference was not lost on me. It was clear this sheik kept all of his people well in hand.

The news that Yusef brought was apparently not welcome. The sheik's heavy scowl was growing blacker every moment until at last he leaped up with a sound of impatience. Without even glancing at me, he donned his black cloak, and they went out together. The hound followed.

For a moment I was alone again, free of the watchful eyes, free of his hated proximity. I pushed the damp hair off my forehead with a heavy sigh of relief. I had my wished-for reprieve.

I should have been elated at his unexpected absence, yet in my perversity, I was strangely unstrung with anticipation of his return.

Growing restless, I looked about the empty room. It had changed since this morning in the indefinable way a strange room does after a few hours' association. If I could leave it now and never see it again, no single detail of it would ever be forgotten. Its characteristics had been stamped upon me as familiarly as if the hours passed in it had been years. I moved about the tent, listlessly examining objects that I already knew by heart and flirting over the pages of some French magazines.

Soon the utter silence oppressed me.

Where was Gaston? Even the servant's company would be preferable to my own. I guessed he must have gone with his master or perhaps he was long retired. I went to the flap of the tent and gazed out into the night. The camp, large and spread out, was covered mostly in a blanket of blackness, broken by the occasional glimmer of a sparking fire. I had dreamt for years of this experience, of a month spent in the desert, and now here I was.

I had longed for adventure. It is what I had sought, so why could I not turn this tragedy to my advantage? I had food and shelter that was far superior to any I could have provided for myself. And I was surrounded by hundreds of armed men. Whether I viewed them as my captors or my protectors was only a matter of perception—a matter of choice.

I knew I was safe. I had seen the depths of deference, the authority of the sheik's command. Any man outside of himself who dared to touch me would suffer death. Of that I was certain. The only thing stopping me from enjoying my adventure in this vast oasis and my freedom in the sheik's camp was my own desperate desire to cling to a state of chastity I truly cared nothing about. It was only my pride that stood in the way of my pleasure, and my refusal to allow him to take it from me.

I chewed my lip as I gazed up at the stars glimmering in the heaven like countless brilliant diamonds shimmering against a backdrop of black velvet. I wondered if in the great scheme of things, my pride was a bit overrated.

This entire evening I had bucked with resentment against the pretense that I was a guest here, but had I met this same sheik in Biskrah, in more conventional circumstances, if I had only been properly introduced, would I not have willingly, even gratefully, accepted an invitation to his camp? Only a week ago I would have jumped at the chance. What now prevented me from embracing that role? From enjoying that status—for as long as I had planned? I smiled to myself. Yes, it was all just a matter of perception, except for the bartering of my body— the sheik's expectation in return for his hospitality.

My smiled dimmed.

I could enjoy my month of holiday as planned, as long as I would serve his needs—and all that implied—in his bed.

Of that, he had already given me a taste, and it was not what I had expected. I had believed him a brutal savage, a ravishing barbarian, yet he had handled me as gently as a lover. Innately I knew the man was a mixture of both. He had shown himself prone to caprice and had hinted that which side of himself he presented to me was largely my choice. Just as with the colt that afternoon. When the horse had finally yielded, he had shown nothing but tenderness and mercy, yet had the struggle continued, the animal would have perished before the sheik ever gave up.

I had tempted him in the same way just this afternoon, defiantly daring him, taunting him to kill me. He had only laughed. For the moment my protestations and rebellious antics amused him, but should he begin to grow weary of it…of me… I shuddered.

So, it was all back to the matter of my inevitable submission, for it was inevitable. I'd already accepted that fact, and in truth, had only continued fighting to delay the actualization of it. Perhaps even the loss of my virginity was also a matter of perception, or misperception, as it were.

I had never understood why the act of losing one's virginity was referred to as being taken, an expression that seemed ridiculous to me. When considering the mechanics of it, the act involved a great deal more giving from the male perspective and receiving on the woman's part.

In truth, my decision was not whether to give him anything, but merely to receive what he desired to give me. I could enjoy it or not, but I would be no weaker for it. I fingered the necklace, the cool jade pressed against my breast. I had not wanted to receive this either. It had pleased him far more to give it to me than it had for me to accept it.