The Cobra and the Concubine by Bonnie Vanak

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Abused and made a concubine by the evil Sheikh Faruq, Badra finds redemption and love in the strong arms of an English duke's last grandson.

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The Cobra & the Concubine

Dorchester Publishing

All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-8439-5529-5

Chapter One

Someone, please help me.

The silent plea ran through Badra's mind in a frantic chant.
She quivered behind the large limestone boulder just outside
the peppering of black goat's hair tents. Sounds of war raged,
the screams of men dying, the triumphant war whoops of their
enemies gaining a stronghold. The two fiercest desert tribes
in Egypt, the Al-Hajid and the Khamsin warriors of the wind,
fought each other in a bloody clash.

Peeking around the stone, Farah watched. Sun burned down
mercilessly upon them. Wind drifted across the dusky sands,
ruffling her long black hair. At twenty, Farah was five years
older than Badra in both experience and wisdom. She was the
one who had urged her to escape.

Farah turned, her face flushed with urgency. "The Khamsin are
departing our camp! Now is the time."

Badra's feet remained frozen to the sands. They had fled the
harem tent in the confusion and made it outside the camp. If
they escaped now, Sheikh Fareeq would find them. "You are my
slave, Badra," he had snarled. "Escape to the Sinai and I will
find you. I do not let slaves go free."

Farah's voice snapped her back to the present.

"Please, let us flee," she pleaded. Somewhere deep inside her,
Badra found a tiny core of strength and drewon it. The women
ran out from behind the sheltering rocks.

Chaos erupted about them as a blur of movement on fast, sleek
Arabians rode past. The Khamsin had recovered their prize
breeding stallion and were leaving the Al-Hajid behind. A
beautiful white Arabian stallion tethered to the saddle
snorted as the Khamsin sheikh rode toward them on his mare.

Farah did not hesitate. She immediately darted out, clutching
Badra's hand and screaming for him to stop.

The sheikh pulled his mount up in an expert move, the mare's
nostrils flaring. The sheikh of the Khamsin warriors of the
wind presented a magnificent figure. An indigo veil draped
across his lower face, shielding his features. He leaned
forward and his dark eyes flashed fury until Farah laid a hand
upon the trouser-clad thigh clinging to the horse's side.

"Please," she begged, her voice frantic, "we belong to Sheikh
Fareeq. Please, I beg you, sire, take us with you as your
concubines. I know you are Jabari bin Tarik Hassid, sheikh of
the Khamsin. I have heard you are a just and righteous
leader."

Badra raised her eyes hopefully to the leader, silently
imploring him. Words fled her. She could not speak. The leader
frowned and two more warriors, one short, but with a powerful
build, the other taller and leaner, pulled up, effectively
trapping them between the sheikh and their horses. Three
veiled faces stared down at them with hidden menace. Badra
began to shake violently, wondering if she fled a familiar
horror to one yet unknown.

"Sire, what is the delay?" the muscled warrior asked.

"These women, Nazim. They ask sanctuary as my concubines."

The one called Nazim leaned over his mare and gave them a
cursory glance. "Then offer it," he hissed. "But let us
hurry!"

Jabari looked down at them, then questioningly at the other
warrior. "Khepri, my brother, what is your opinion? Is it a
trap or should I take them into my care?"

"You could do with a few concubines," the other warrior said
in an amused tone. "Perhaps if they keep you busy enough in
your bed, you will be less inclined to ride into trouble."

"Watch your tongue lest I cut it out for you," Jabari warned,
but it seemed to Badra he had a smile in his voice. "Very
well, I will offer refuge in my household."

The Khamsin sheikh stared down at Farah, nodded. He reached
down and scooped her into the saddle.

"Khepri, take the little one," Jabari instructed. "I am
entrusting you to keep her safe for me."

"Come, little one," the warrior name Khepri called to her.

She could not move, for she was too terrified. Leaving with
him constituted the bravest act she'd undertaken since being
sold to Fareeq four years ago when she was only 11. Dust rose
in a thick cloud as the others rode off. Khepri motioned
toward her, the blue veil hiding all but his eyes.

The warrior looked over his shoulder. Distant, angry shouts
filled the air; sounds of men gathering. The Al-Hajid had
recovered and would soon ride after them. He slid off his mare
in a graceful move and went toward her, holding out his hand.
Badra dragged her frightened gaze up to meet his then
recoiled. He had the same bronzed coloring as those men
familiar to her, but his eyes burned a fierce blue like the
Egyptian sky.

The man tore off his veil revealing features that tore every
breath from her lungs. Badra stared, awestruck. Lean, sculpted
cheeks and a taut jaw line accommodated a dark-bearded chin
that made him appear fierce, but he offered her a gentle smile
and his tone was soothing and low.

"I am Khepri bin Tarik Hassid, brother to the sheikh. Have no
fear, little one. You are safe with me."

Those incredible blue eyes suddenly blazed with mischief. "And
I promise you Jabari is a considerate man. If you have any
trouble, I will punish him most severely." He winked.

Whether the teasing or the gentle manner, something about this
man pulled at her. Badra nodded. He hoisted her easily onto
the saddle and then pulled up behind her, cradling her with
his firm, warm body. Another shiver went through her, this
time not of fear but a deeper intensity.

They rode fast through hard canyons and deep desert to meet up
with the others then rode ceaselessly, taking short breaks.
She did not speak. On one of the rest periods the Khamsin
warriors cast her searching glances. Sly remarks followed.

"Fareeq took our breeding stallion, so our sheikh will bed
Fareeq's concubines as revenge. Jabari will prove he is the
virile leader Fareeq is not," one warrior commented.

Handing Badra a goatskin of water, Khepri frowned at the man.
"Must you talk around the women as if they do not exist? You
have as many words as a storm has sand, Hassan, but a
sandstorm is far more pleasant on the ears."

Shards of sharp panic pinched as the men laughed. The Khamsin
sheikh would bed her immediately to prove himself to his
warriors. Would he also brutalize her?

When they reached the camp, she gazed around with wide-eyed
curiosity. Blue-scarfed women looked curiously at her. Farah
came over to her, offering a encouraging smile as Khepri
escorted them over to a many-poled tent. A middle-aged woman
introducing herself as Asriyah, the sheikh's aunt, welcomed
them. She was given water for washing, a change of clothing
and shown to a soft bed. Badra fell asleep as soon as her body
touched the mattress.

* * *

When she awoke the next day, Badra sat up, confused and
afraid. She glanced around the interior, at the low sandalwood
table near her bed, the rich, thick carpets, the elegant
carvings set upon a handsome wood chest. The Khamsin camp. Now
she had a new master. She touched the cotton sheets with a
trembling hand. Despite the reassurances Khepri had given her
last night, Badra could not believe she was safe.

Fareeq would come for her. Badra had only escaped his
attention while pregnant. Childless Fareeq was desperate for a
son. So she broke the secret pact among his concubines to
ensure he'd remain childless and stopped taking the herbs
preventing contraception. It was a difficult pregnancy and her
labor started two weeks early. Badra swallowed a lump in her
throat. Her little girl. She had held her in her arms,
marveling at the tiny, precious life. They had taken her away
while she fell into an exhausted slumber. When she awoke, they
told her Jasmine had been too little and died. Barely had she
recovered when he began raping and flogging her once more ...

She clutched the sheet as the woven door to her chamber
lifted. Farah entered, smiling blissfully.

"The sheikh has taken me to his bed. He is a wonderful lover
and brought me to a pleasure I had never imagined. He is
unmarried. Perhaps he will wed me," Farah told her.

Her friend possessed a sinuous grace. Like Fareeq's other
women, she had evaded the whip, using wiles she taught Badra
to lessen Fareeq's abuse. A sage look came into her dark eyes.

"He has called for you next. He is quite virile, this one."

Badra flinched, remembering Fareeq's nightly visits, the rough
way he had shoved himself into her body until she cried. Men
did not deliver pleasure. Only pain.

Her friend's expression softened. "You must go to him, Badra,
lest you anger him. Do you want to return to Fareeq?"

Fear twisted like a loathsome snake about her spine. How could
she endure sharing her new master's bed? Yet she had no
choice. Her mouth went dry.

Farah drifted away, a dreamy expression on her face as Asriyah
came inside. "I am told you are called Badra. I have been
instructed to bring you to the sheikh's tent as soon as you
are prepared for him. Hurry," the woman told her.

Badra washed, dressed and subjected herself to the woman's
gentle touch as she brushed her hair. "You are quite
beautiful," Asriyah commented. "My nephew will be pleased."

She tensed, thinking of the horrors to come.

The sheikh's aunt escorted her to the largest tent. Badra
removed her sandals. Sucking in a deep breath, she walked
inside the tent's main room, her feet treading noiselessly on
a thick jewel-toned carpet. Wind blew softly through the
enclosure from the flaps partly rolled up. Jabari sat
cross-legged on the floor next to the warrior she'd heard him
call Nazim. The men ate dates from a bowl on the floor and
talked and laughed. She studied her new master with care. Much
younger than she first thought, somewhere in his early
twenties. Quite handsome and tall, with long black hair
spilling beneath his indigo turban. She prayed the ebony eyes
would hold kindness and he would show a little of the warmth
she'd glimpsed yesterday.

Jabari glanced up. A reassuring smile touched his mouth.
Kindness shone in his eyes and his manner seemed gentle.

"Nazim," he said in husky voice. "Leave us."

The other warrior gave his sheikh a grin and a wink and left.
Badra trembled. Jabari invited her to sit, offered her a date.
She took one as he talked. His voice was deep and soothing,
but she heard little. Sweat trickled down her back. Her
stomach pitched as he unfolded his muscled body and stood.
"Come," he told her, holding out his hand.

The sheikh led her to a back room. A massive bed stood near
one tent wall. She knew what he wanted. Her heart thudded.

"Undress for me," he instructed softly.

Moisture dampened her palms. Badra bit her lip, filled with
revulsion. But if she did not obey, this man might flog her as
Fareeq had. The sheikh's broad shoulders hinted of muscle that
could wield a whip harder than Fareeq. She felt helpless.

Her shaking fingers tugged off the indigo kuftan and stripped
off the underlying kamis shirt and wide, blousy trousers.
Naked, she stood before Jabari, displaying what Fareeq had
coveted since eyeing her at the Pleasure Palace, the brothel
where her parents had sold her. The sheikh's jaw dropped.

"Allah," he said hoarsely. "You are lovely."

She hated this. Hated herself. Badra tried to quell the horror
rushing through her at the lusty gleam in his dark eyes. He
put a palm upon her breast.

No! Not again! She could not. Terrified, she jerked away. No
where to run. Badra felt trapped. Instinct drove her into the
tent's corner. She crumbled on the carpet and crouched, facing
the wall. Her arms wrapped about her for protection.

Maybe if she curled up so very tightly, and made no noise, he
would leave her alone. Violent shivers wracked her.

"Badra, what is wrong? What are you doing?" Bewilderment
filled the sheikh's voice.

Badra crawled further into the corner. She felt humiliated and
ashamed. Yet she could not stop.

"Do not be afraid of me," he said gently.

Air brushed her naked skin as he lifted her hair. A warm hand
suddenly settled over her exposed back, upon the deepest of
the scars carved there. She flinched. Badra stuffed a fist
into her mouth to stifle a scream.

No noise. Noise meant he'd hit her harder.

"Allah," the sheikh said in a shocked voice. "That fat jackal
of a bastard, what did he do to your back?"

Badra whimpered.

"Please Badra, come out. I will not hurt you."

Lies. Always the lies. Of course you say you will not hurt me.
Then you do. Oh please, don't touch me. I cannot bear it.

His words became a buzz in her ears. She peeked and saw him
offer her clothing. Another trick. He would offer covering,
and then rip it off. And beat her. And laugh.

Finally the sheikh stood. She heard him leave. A few minutes
later, he returned and she heard Farah's voice.

"She will not say a word to me. What did that bastard do to
this poor girl?" Jabari said.

"Badra hasn't spoken in months to anyone. She was our master's
favorite. He enjoyed flogging her."

Farah crouched down. Badra stole a peek.

"Badra, stop this before the sheikh becomes angry," she
pleaded. "He is a skillful lover, more than our master. Why,
the Khamsin sheikh's member is far larger than our master's,
like the towering obelisks of Egypt it is ..."

"Thank you," the sheikh said dryly. "You may leave now. Call
Nazim in here."

He went to the tent's main section. She heard the firm tread
of a man's footsteps and a deep, cheerful male voice.

"Do you need assistance, sire? Advice? I had thought you
needed no instructions in this matter," Nazim joked.

"Stop joking, Nazim. Badra ran into a corner and will not come
out. Farah attempted to reassure her by telling her my member
is large as the obelisks of Egypt."

"Ah, very reassuring. And not true," Nazim chuckled.

"The girl is terrified. Fareeq flogged her. Come here and see
if you can work your famous charm to coax her out."

She heard them enter the bedchamber. Badra squeezed her eyes
shut. If Jabari wanted her, he'd have to pull her. No words
would force her from the slim safety the corner provided.

"Look, she's shivering, poor girl. I would carve my dagger
upon that bastard Fareeq for what he has done," Nazim said
quietly.

Opening one eye, Badra saw him lean over, murmuring something
soothing. Compassion shone in his odd, whiskey-colored eyes,
but she knew looks could deceive. He touched her bare arm.

She shrieked and huddled further into the corner.

A heavy sigh rushed from Nazim. "She has too much fear,
Jabari. I advise you to be gentle with her. Give her time."

She heard him leave, then the sheikh sat nearby.

"I see we are at an impasse, Badra." Jabari said quietly. "But
I am a patient man and will wait for you to come out. As long
as it takes."

* * *

Two hours. What was Jabari doing to her?

He had counted every minute since the sheikh had taken the new
girl Badra into his tent. Finally Khepri could take it no
longer. He stood near Jabari's quarters, fashioning a new
harness for a farmer's donkey. Irritated, he frowned at two
warriors exchanging sly grins as they glanced at the sheikh's
tent. Ribald remarks about Jabari's sexual prowess followed.
His brother needed to prove himself to his men. He was only 23
and had assumed leadership barely two months ago. Bedding
Fareeq's concubines gained the warriors' respect.

"Two hours! Our sheikh is a strong man," one joked.

Khepri grimaced. The other warrior laughed. "Look, his brother
already is thinking how to surpass him. Always determined to
be the best. I hear fathers lock their daughters away when
Khepri visits the village. They have seen how his mistress
cannot walk straight for days after. Perhaps our sheikh will
do the same to his new concubine."

His insides twisted at the idea. The little concubine called
Badra seemed terrified. Her beautiful dark eyes had begged him
for help. Pity and an odd protective feeling stabbed him. He
too, had quivered with fear when he came to the Khamsin, his
parents' death screams still ringing in his ears.

To cover his agitation, and any noise of coupling inside the
sheikh's tent, he began to sing. Khepri tried not to think
about Jabari bedding Badra. She belonged to the sheikh and he
was foolish to covet her. But still, he couldn't help the
jealousy stinging him him like a cactus needle.

* * *

Her muscles ached. Badra dared not move. The sheikh studied a
sheaf of papers. Her body ached from huddling in one position
so long. But here was safety.

A horrid noise sounded outside. It sounded like
someone ... singing? Badra realized it was Khepri. He sounded
worse than a braying donkey. As if to confirm her thoughts, a
donkey brayed. Her lips twitched with sudden mirth.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Cobra & the Concubine
by Bonnie Vanak
Copyright © 2005 by Bonnie Vanak .
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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