Mellow candlelight falling on the divan where they took pleasure.
"Yes." She slowly moved into the chamber. "Tomorrow."
He smiled. "After all, it's only pleasure. What harm can--My God."
Her gaze followed his to the divan. "What is it?"
"Nasim."
A slender whip with leather thongs lay on the soft cushions.
Kadar walked slowly toward the divan.
"Why is it here?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. He reached down and picked up the whip.
"Kadar."
"Get out of here," he said through clenched teeth.
"Why? What do you mean?"
He whirled toward the tapestry. "By God, no , Nasim."
He hurled the whip at the tapestry.
The next moment he had grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the door. "Out."
The door slammed behind them and he half-pulled, half-pushed her down the curving staircase. He was cursing softly, venomously.
"What's happening?"
He paid no attention to her.
She stopped at the foot of the steps. "I'll not go another step. Tell me."
He drew a deep breath, struggling for control. "We weren't proving amusing enough to Nasim. He wanted me to use the whip on you."
"He wanted to punish me?"
"He didn't--It's a form of coupling."
"What?"
"Sometimes pain increases the intensity."
She stared at him, shocked. "For you?"
"I've never liked it. Even with a woman who did."
"I cannot believe anyone would like it. As a child I felt the whip often and--"
"I know. Just believe me. Some women do like it." He pushed her toward the door to her chamber. "Lock the door. I'm going to talk to Nasim."
She remembered the rage with which he had hurled the whip. "He'll be angry with you."
"Yes." He gave her a nudge. "Go on."
