Page 40 of Kismet

Chapter 11

As they rode into camp, Shaheen’s embrace tightened around her. Allegra flinched as her body responded to the increased pressure of his arm about her waist. While her head protested, her body melted willingly into his as he pulled her closer. Oh God, why did her body have to betray her like this? This was the real reason she’d risked riding that brute of a horse.

She’d been running away. Marrakech meant she could return to England and the safety of a life she knew well. A life where she was always in control of her senses, her emotions. Not this unbridled desire Shaheen stirred in her. A hunger that threatened to spiral out of control at any moment, leaving her vulnerable in ways she didn’t want to consider.

Uncontrolled passion had been something she avoided. While every man she’d welcomed into her bed had experienced both pleasure and desire, she had never shared herself completely or with abandon. Surrendering to passion meant she might lose her heart.

But with this man, it would be easy to surrender, and the thought terrified her. It was that fear that had driven her to run as far away as she could. And she had almost escaped him. She’d almost reached the safe haven of Marrakech when he’d reached out and snatched freedom from her.

Dark brown hands pulled the horse to a halt, and in a lithe movement he dismounted. All too aware of his displeasure, she slid off the horse to land lightly at his side. He didn’t look at her, but his anger was a tangible sensation across her skin. Retreat seemed the best option at the moment. Glancing toward his tent, she took one step in that direction. In that split second, his fingers bit painfully into her upper arm. Unable to suppress her cry, she wordlessly protested the bruising pain his grip caused.

“Not yet, ma belle, we have some unfinished business.”

The grim resignation in his quiet words sent a chill sliding down her back. Without any other warning, he dragged her toward the center of the camp. As he did so, he called out in the Bedouin tongue that was that odd mix of French and Berber. She could only make out a word or two here and there, and while it was impossible to understand everything he was saying, she heard the words disobedience and consequences.

Whatever he was saying, everyone was listening and following him as he dragged Allegra toward the center of the camp. The moment they reached the communal campfire, he sank down on a large log. With a sharp jerk, he pulled her across his knee. In the next instant, his hand cracked across her bottom through the thin sherwals she wore. The initial sting of the blow stunned her for a few seconds, her mind not fully comprehending what was happening. When he spanked her again, her disbelief evaporated and she fought wildly to twist away from him. He thwarted her efforts, and struck her once more.

“Let me go,” she exclaimed with a hiss of fury.

“Do not struggle, ma belle. It will only go that much harder for you.”

“Bastard!”

“Perhaps, but if I were any other man, I would be using a whip on you.” His hand stung her backside with another sharp crack. “Everyone in the camp witnessed your disobedience when I ordered you off of Ahmar Jinn. I cannot let that go unpunished.”

“Disobedience implies you have domain over me, and you do not,” she bit out through clenched teeth as she fought back tears.

His paddling wasn’t anywhere near as painful as the humiliation she was suffering. The public forum and method he’d chosen to rebuke her with was devastating. Again his hand made contact with her bottom. God, how she hated him. First he’d chosen to hold her hostage, now he was making an example of her. Mortified by the public manner in which he carried out his punishment, she closed her eyes, wishing the ground would open up and swallow them whole. She lapsed into silence, and when he finally released her, she slowly rose to her feet.

Fingernails digging into her palms, she fought to keep from leaping forward and scratching his eyes out. In a way, this incident was even more humiliating than the bartering he’d done with Nassar. Being sold had brought back horrible memories, but it had been accomplished in the privacy of Nassar’s tent.

But this—he’d punished her in front of the tribe to solidify his authority. She shuddered. Facing Lady Bledsoe’s condescension, spite, and hate in public would be far more bearable than this degrading experience. Calling upon every bit of composure she could dredge up from inside her, she squared her shoulders and held her head at a haughty angle.

“Are you quite finished, my lord?” she sneered. The insolence in her voice stressed that he was anything but a nobleman.

His head jerked sharply in her direction as he met her gaze with repressed outrage. Satisfaction clipped through her. Something had told her the use of his title would anger him. She’d struck him a blow and it elated her. Glaring up into his face with every bit of defiance she could muster, she silently announced how much she despised him.

His features could have been stone except for the single muscle that twitched in his cheek. He seemed to be struggling with an emotion she couldn’t define, and for a brief second she wondered if he regretted inflicting his punishment on her. No, remorse wasn’t in the man’s vocabulary.

When he dismissed her with an abrupt nod, she whirled away from him. Forced to meet the eyes of those who’d watched her humiliation, she froze in her tracks. Then with as much dignity as she could command, she lifted her head higher and stalked back to Shaheen’s tent. The silence was deafening as the crowd parted and made a path for her. Clinging to what little composure she had left, she forced herself to maintain a dignified pace. Only when she was hidden from view did she allow herself to run as fast as she could to the tent.

Every one of Shaheen’s muscles ached from the tension holding him stiff and immobile as he watched Allegra disappear from view. Christ Jesus, what the hell was happening to him? He’d never hit a woman before in his life, not even Frances. And her behavior had been far more deserving of a beating than Allegra’s minor transgression. Why the devil hadn’t he found some other type of punishment for her? Shoving a hand through his hair, he glared at one of the men who had lingered behind, causing the man to hurry away. With uncharacteristic fury, he slammed his fist into a nearby post that served as a support for a roasting spit.

“Take care with your hand, Shaheen. If the anasi misbehaves again, you will have need of it.” Quiet condemnation filled Jamal’s voice.

“What do you suggest I should have done?” he snarled. “Allegra openly defied me in front of the men. We both know a leader cannot lead if he has no respect.”

“Agreed, I simply think her punishment could have been less humiliating. Nassar accomplished that task well enough with her. It disappoints me to see you do so as well.”

“Do not compare me to that murderous bastard.” Shaheen’s hand slashed through the air in harsh rebuke. “Nassar would have beaten her with a whip for less, enjoying every minute of it.”

“Perhaps I am too harsh in comparing your actions to Nassar, but you must look into your heart and consider whether it was the anasi you were punishing or another woman.”

“Don’t lecture me about my past, Jamal,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “We both know it’s not up for discussion.”

“I think it is, given the current situation,” Jamal said harshly. “The anasi is a courtesan. A woman much like the woman you loved a long time ago.”

“Do not test our friendship in this way, Jamal.” He directed a cold look of fury at the older man, but the Bedouin never flinched.