Alex could not summon a smile. His threats rang in her ears. Nor could she stop recalling the vicious destruction of her bedroom earlier that day. She should have drunk more wine; she now realized that. Just inside the threshold of his bedroom, she paused, hugging herself. How would she survive their encounter? How she hated him!
She told herself for the hundredth time that it did not matter that she was going to go to bed with him. Soon, very soon, she and Blackwell would escape Tripoli and be free. What had begun as a lark and had turned into a nightmare would truly be over.
“I wish to apologize for this morning,” Jebal finally said.
Alex nodded. She would never forgive him.
“You are very beautiful tonight.” Jebal smiled slightly. “Red suits you, Zohara.”
Alex did not smile. Murad had dressed her. She had not wanted to wear crimson silk, but his eyes had flashed and he had said, “Your future depends on this night Your future—your freedom. Please him, Alex, otherwise he may very well lock you up and throw away the key, and then you will never escape.”
Alex had worn red.
“Come. I am not going to hurt you.” Jebal smiled more widely now.
Alex walked forward. She was wearing numerous gold bracelets on her ankles, and they jangled with every step she took. She wore nothing beneath her two fine robes, the outer one being short and sleeveless and embroidered along the neckline and hem with seed pearls and threads of gold, and she felt spectacularly like a whore.
Jebal took her arm, his gaze moving over her breasts. She wore a tight, wide belt of solid gold, so her figure was lushly revealed. He lifted his gaze, and Alex saw the heat in his eyes. She thought.If we are going to do this, we should do it now, and get it over with.
But the despair renewed itself. Jebal did not want a quickie. And Alex knew herself that she had to perform—that she must please him—make him happy with her. Yet she also knew that in spite of the consequences, she could not, would not, do as logic and common sense dictated.
Oh, God! If only that Danish ship had cruised into port yesterday!
Jebal slipped his arm around her. “In truth,” he said huskily, “you are ravishing. The most stunning woman I have ever seen.”
Alex remained mute. She no longer felt the effects of the wine. Her pulse pounded so hard, she felt ill. Jebal had her in his embrace now, and she could feel the tip of his phallus against her belly. Clearly he was already erect. She was nauseated.
“Do you wish to dine?” he whispered, his palms sliding down her back and pausing on her buttocks.
“No. I am not hungry,” Alex said tersely. She stood stiff as a board. His touch repulsed her. She could not go through with this. Suddenly she jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me!”
He was stunned, and then his eyes darkened.
Alex had fled toward the door, but two slaves barred the exit, so she stood there, trapped and shaking violently.
He marched toward her. “You refuse me?”
“Yes! I can’t. Jebal!”
“It has been two years, Zohara! Somehow, for two very long years, you have managed to elude me.” He was shouting. His face was flushed a dark, angry shade of red.
Inside, Alex was cringing. Tears filled her eyes. “I do not love you.”
He stared. “Perhaps,” he said, very slowly, “I shall force you to love me.”
Alex whimpered inaudibly.
His hands snaked out. He caught her chin ruthlessly; their gazes clashed. Alex’s was brilliant with tears. “You are a spy, aren’t you?”
“No,” she choked.
He ground his mouth down on hers. Alex was forced backward against the wall. He kissed her ruthlessly. She almost gagged, refusing to respond. She was filled with terror.
He broke away, staring furiously at her—and then his hand lashed out and he struck her hard across the face. Alex’s head snapped back, hitting the wall. Stars filled her vision. Her face throbbed with pain. And her head felt as if it had been split open.
Alex rushed into her bedchamber, shutting the door behind her and bolting it. Then she stood rigidly with her spine pressed against it, unmoving. Only a short time had elapsed since she had been summoned by Jebal, but that had been enough.
Her legs trembled, seeming incapable of holding her upright.
