belly clenched in response. ‘Am I? Do you really think so?’ she said, her voice sounding as if she were parched.
Ramiz laughed huskily, his breath caressing her fingers. ‘Did I not prove that to you last night too? The point is not what I think, but what you think. Until you believe in your own beauty you will never be able to enjoy it. And if you can’t enjoy it…’
Celia tugged her hand away, blushing furiously. ‘That sort of enjoyment is what your women learn in the harem.’
‘As you did.’
‘We are not in the harem now.’
Ramiz pushed himself back in his chair, running his hand through his close-cropped hair. ‘No, we’re not. You’re right. You may select some books to take back with you. I have more business to attend to.’
‘Ramiz?’
‘Well?’
‘I meant it when I offered to help. If there is anything I can do—I’m used to being busy. Being waited on hand and foot, having nothing more to do than decide which scent to pour into my bath, is all very well for a few days, but—is there nothing?’
‘You’re bored?’
She nodded.
‘Would you like to see the city?’
Celia’s eyes lit up. ‘I’d love that.’
‘I can’t spare the time today, and I would not trust you with another escort, but I will take you tomorrow. I could arrange for you to pay a visit to Akil’s wife instead, if you wish. Yasmina speaks good English. You will still be spending the day in another harem, of course, but at least it won’t be this one.’
Celia smiled with pleasure. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’
‘One last thing. Delightful as it was, last night was a mistake. It won’t happen again. Ever.’
He was gone through the heavily draped doorway before she could answer him. Which is just as well, Celia thought, inspecting the shelves of the library, because I have no idea whether that is a good thing or not!
Deciding it was best not to even attempt to make sense of that, she instead busied herself in preparation for her outing to visit Akil’s wife. It would be good to spend time with another woman. It would also be good to spend time away from the deeply unsettling presence of one particular man.
Chapter Six
Y asmina, a rather beautiful woman with eyes the colour of bitter chocolate and skin like toasted almonds, welcomed Celia warmly, pouring tea from a silver samovar into delicate crystal glasses in silver holders, speaking in careful English with a slight French accent.
The harem itself was a smaller version of the one occupied by Celia in the royal palace, a series of salons built around a courtyard with a fountain and lemon trees, but there the resemblance ended. The entrance was a gilded gate, not a door, and though it was guarded it was not locked. The rooms themselves were populated with Yasmina and Akil’s four children, Yasmina’s mother, Akil’s widowed sister and her two children.
‘I expect you think all harems are full of sultry slave girls,’ Yasmina said, offering Celia a selection of delicately sugared pastries stuffed with sultanas and apricots. ‘The fact is that most are like this. We all have our own salons, so we can be private when we wish to, but we eat and work together, we read and sew together, and as you can see we don’t have to worry about being veiled.’
‘But don’t you mind being confined to one place like this?’
Yasmina laughed. ‘We’re not. The gate isn’t locked. It’s just symbolic. It marks a border that we can cross only if we are covered. You will find it is the same in all households in the city. In the desert it is different. Women can wander more freely with their tribes.’
‘The door to the harem at the palace is locked.’
Yasmina nodded. ‘That was Ramiz’s brother Asad’s doing. Are there still eunuchs?’
‘Two of them.’
‘Akil says that Ramiz doesn’t know what to do with them. There used to be about ten, but the rest of them were happy to return to Turkey, where they came from, when Asad died.
Ramiz laughed huskily, his breath caressing her fingers. ‘Did I not prove that to you last night too? The point is not what I think, but what you think. Until you believe in your own beauty you will never be able to enjoy it. And if you can’t enjoy it…’
Celia tugged her hand away, blushing furiously. ‘That sort of enjoyment is what your women learn in the harem.’
‘As you did.’
‘We are not in the harem now.’
Ramiz pushed himself back in his chair, running his hand through his close-cropped hair. ‘No, we’re not. You’re right. You may select some books to take back with you. I have more business to attend to.’
‘Ramiz?’
‘Well?’
‘I meant it when I offered to help. If there is anything I can do—I’m used to being busy. Being waited on hand and foot, having nothing more to do than decide which scent to pour into my bath, is all very well for a few days, but—is there nothing?’
‘You’re bored?’
She nodded.
‘Would you like to see the city?’
Celia’s eyes lit up. ‘I’d love that.’
‘I can’t spare the time today, and I would not trust you with another escort, but I will take you tomorrow. I could arrange for you to pay a visit to Akil’s wife instead, if you wish. Yasmina speaks good English. You will still be spending the day in another harem, of course, but at least it won’t be this one.’
Celia smiled with pleasure. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’
‘One last thing. Delightful as it was, last night was a mistake. It won’t happen again. Ever.’
He was gone through the heavily draped doorway before she could answer him. Which is just as well, Celia thought, inspecting the shelves of the library, because I have no idea whether that is a good thing or not!
Deciding it was best not to even attempt to make sense of that, she instead busied herself in preparation for her outing to visit Akil’s wife. It would be good to spend time with another woman. It would also be good to spend time away from the deeply unsettling presence of one particular man.
Chapter Six
Y asmina, a rather beautiful woman with eyes the colour of bitter chocolate and skin like toasted almonds, welcomed Celia warmly, pouring tea from a silver samovar into delicate crystal glasses in silver holders, speaking in careful English with a slight French accent.
The harem itself was a smaller version of the one occupied by Celia in the royal palace, a series of salons built around a courtyard with a fountain and lemon trees, but there the resemblance ended. The entrance was a gilded gate, not a door, and though it was guarded it was not locked. The rooms themselves were populated with Yasmina and Akil’s four children, Yasmina’s mother, Akil’s widowed sister and her two children.
‘I expect you think all harems are full of sultry slave girls,’ Yasmina said, offering Celia a selection of delicately sugared pastries stuffed with sultanas and apricots. ‘The fact is that most are like this. We all have our own salons, so we can be private when we wish to, but we eat and work together, we read and sew together, and as you can see we don’t have to worry about being veiled.’
‘But don’t you mind being confined to one place like this?’
Yasmina laughed. ‘We’re not. The gate isn’t locked. It’s just symbolic. It marks a border that we can cross only if we are covered. You will find it is the same in all households in the city. In the desert it is different. Women can wander more freely with their tribes.’
‘The door to the harem at the palace is locked.’
Yasmina nodded. ‘That was Ramiz’s brother Asad’s doing. Are there still eunuchs?’
‘Two of them.’
‘Akil says that Ramiz doesn’t know what to do with them. There used to be about ten, but the rest of them were happy to return to Turkey, where they came from, when Asad died.
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