The Sheik Retold(65)

"I warned you about pushing me too far, ma belle. Now you will get your wish."

Until this moment he'd evinced every sign of reluctance, but I had indeed gone too far. Perhaps I was a fool. His determination was a rock against which I had been broken too many times not to know its strength.

He rose abruptly, clapped his hands to summon Gaston, and then barked a command in rapid Arabic. A few minutes later the servant returned with Yusef, who bore a camel flogger. The sheik held out his hand. Yusef and Gaston both regarded me with expressions of abject pity. More swift words followed. "S'en aller," the sheik commanded with an imperious wave and then advanced upon me slowly, flogger in hand.

I stared in horror at the long-handled whip from which sprouted numerous snake-like strips of thick leather. I thought I could endure this, but my knees quivered, and I found myself backing away from him. I bit my lips. My courage was failing fast, but he remained wooden and unfazed.

"But it is what you wanted, ma chère. You insisted upon it even when I gave you every chance. Now it is too late. I have, however, spared you the ultimate humiliation. You will receive your lashes in private with only Gaston and Yusef as witnesses."

I felt the curtain at my back, but my mind was going numb. He leaned over my shoulder to push it aside with a mocking gesture of invitation. "After you, mademoiselle."

A paralysis of panic came over me when he secured the silken hobbles he had once used on me to the bed post. "You will bare yourself to me and face the post."

I could not move. I could not speak. When I didn't obey, he came behind me. With a single yank on the thin silk, he stripped me of my robe, baring me to the waist. "You will raise your arms." Once more he acted for me, pulling them above my head and securing my wrists to the post. "Voyons. All is ready." His hot breath caressed my hair, and his voice rumbled low in my ear. "I regret that you challenged me, my dove. In spite of what you believe, I take no pleasure in this."

"N-no? Then why don't you just let me go?" I could hardly speak for the chattering of my teeth. My mind was racing and my heart pounding in an almost-fever pitch.

"I have told you. I have not tired of you yet." His words were followed by the soft brush of his lips on my neck and then from shoulder to shoulder before he stepped away.

He kissed me even as he would beat me? I found the act baffling in the extreme. Would I ever understand his complex nature?

The curtain swished softly, followed by a brief but low command in Arabic before he returned. His next words were spoken in French for my benefit. He instructed Gaston and Yusef to turn their backs to protect my modesty.

My knees already sagged, and I clung to the bedpost, hugging it for support. My eyes were squeezed shut, and my teeth pierced through my lip, drawing the metallic taste of blood. I was petrified with terror at his trial snap of the flogger. I cringed in anticipation, but no strike followed. "Please!" I cried, no longer able to stand the agonizing apprehension. "Just get this over with!"

"As you wish ma chère," he replied with a note of regret.

The next time I heard the lash, it connected almost instantly with my flesh, stinging and burning. The sharp slap of leather on skin was echoed by a shriek that I realized dumbly had ripped out of my own throat—proof that I was far less stoic and stalwart than I had believed myself to be. A scorching flood of tears erupted from me—tears of self-pity, of rage. Tears of heartbreak at the realization that my love was meaningless to him. My starved heart ached for what he withheld from me, and for want of any outlet, my emotions burst all restraint.

For the first time in my life, I wept, racking and hiccupping sobs, holding nothing back as I hugged the makeshift whipping post. I had yielded up everything to him, but even his total domination over me wasn't enough. I was a fool to think love could ever break his will. I had denied so long my own capacity for love, and he denied his still. Now my body would be broken for my folly.

I had experienced only the first lash of twelve. I cast a glance backward just as he raised his arm for the second blow. I squeezed my lids and set my teeth, steeling myself for the next lash…that never came.

With a curse, and then the flash of a knife, the silken cord fell free of the post, but my hands still clung to it steadfastly. I looked over my shoulder in bafflement as my sheik threw down the flogger.

"By Allah! I brought you into this camp. Let the penalty be mine!" He yanked my robe back onto my shoulders and tore the thawb from his own body.

"Gaston!" he hissed for his valet.

Understanding was instant, and the wide-eyed servant paled before my eyes. "But your wound, Monsiegneur! It is barely healed!"

Ahmed gave a careless shrug. "Then the blood debt will be quickly satisfied."

Stripped to the torso and wearing only his sirwal, the sheik retrieved the implement of torture and thrust it into Gaston's hands and presented his own back. "Eleven lashes. Yusef shall bear witness."

Gaston stared dumbly and helplessly at the flogger.

"Alons! You heard me, Gaston! Will you carry out my wishes, or perhaps you would rather beat mademoiselle?" He jerked his head toward me, knowing as well as I that the gallant little Frenchman would impale himself on a sword before ever striking me.

Gaston looked first to the sheik and then to me, his eyes filled with abject revulsion. With a slow shake of his head, he raised the flogger. I covered my eyes and turned away.