Loving Lies. Tina Donahue
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of protecting you from a gang of men intent on thievery or worse.”
“You were splendid in Granada.”
His proud smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I had the advantage of surprise. Others use the same means to accomplish their goals.”
“You felt no fear in the bazaar? You expected success?”
As he directed them to the right, several birds took noisy flight from the wheat. “Success is never assured. I feared greatly for you.”
“Not for yourself? How can you be so brave?”
“A man can die but once, no?”
Her stomach fell. She squeezed his hand.
“All is well.” He regarded their surroundings as he always did, surely searching for possible threats. “What happened before is best forgotten.”
“What might have happened if you had failed to rescue me?”
His attention remained on the left before returning to the right, a stand of trees in the distance. “I suppose you would have escaped as you claimed earlier, no?” He looked at her.
She lifted one eyebrow.
He smiled. “At the time I had no idea how difficult you would be. Had I known, I might have refused to rescue you.”
“I am disagreeable, my lord. Not difficult.”
“Is that so?” He tugged her forward, forcing her to match his pace. “You refuse to lie with me until our union is sanctioned by God. I find your resolve most difficult.”
“We had our moment in the stream. Have you forgotten it?”
“Have you?”
“I may need to be reminded.”
Fernando smiled. “You will be once we rest.”
“When will we?”
He laughed. “You are bold.”
She was in need of pleasure only he could give and a means to somehow delay or forsake their journey. “Only with you, my lord, and I will prove myself once you allow us rest.”
He turned to her. Although his expression was naked with need, he shook his head. “Not until the sun goes down.” He regarded her breasts, bouncing with each of her steps. “When it does, you had better keep your promise.”
“And change your mind on rescuing such a disagreeable, difficult, and disobedient woman?”
He again scanned the area. “I would have risked my life to spare any woman the harem whether she was Christian or not, betrothed to me or not, difficult or not.”
“So you also know what goes on in the Sultan’s harem.”
“Also?”
She swatted at insects buzzing around her face. “When others spoke of it I made certain to listen.”
“You made certain to eavesdrop, and no Spaniard will ever know what goes on in such a barbaric place.”
“Yet you would risk your life to save even a Moorish woman from it?”
He slid his gaze to her before resuming his careful watch of the area. “You ask far too many questions.”
“I asked only one. How can it tax you?”
“You just asked another.”
“Forgive me.”
“All will be well if you simply match my pace.”
She suppressed a sigh. “How can I? My legs are shorter than yours and my feet are unshod. I keep stepping on what feels like dead animals.”
“And you wait until now to tell me?” He frowned. “Dead animals mean food.”
She curled her upper lip at the thought of eating a creature she’d stepped on.
He smiled. “You have been far too pampered.”
She bowed her head in mock acquiescence. “How true, my lord. What a relief only one of us deserves to wear high boots.”
“Being a clumsy man I need such things. You, señorita, are as graceful as a gazelle.”
She bumped against him with increasing frequency in her struggle to keep up. “A what?”
“Gazelle. One of the many animals the Sultan has trapped in his palace.”
“You have been inside.”
“I overheard others discussing the animals he keeps.”
“As you eavesdropped? What did you learn of the harem women as you listened in?”
“Spied.”
“As you wish. What did you learn of the harem women?”
“Why do you need to know? Do you still feel in harm’s way?”
“Only when it comes to your brutal pace. Give me a moment to catch my breath.”
At last, he stopped and faced her. “You want a moment that may risk our safety?” He released her hand and advanced.
Breathing hard, she stepped back. “We stopped at the stream.”
“No one was about.”
She looked right, left, even behind herself at the endless wheat, the distant trees, and the blue-tinged mountains on the horizon. “I see no one here.”
“For the moment.”
“Have I asked for so much?”
He scowled. “First, you accused me of drugging the orange, forcing me to eat a slice. Then, you demanded I prove my claim on you. Next, you secured my oath to wait for our coupling. And now you insist on knowing what might have happened in Granada when I wanted to spare you the horror.”
“I only asked—”
“And I mean to tell you. If you had been purchased for Boabdil’s harem, your status would have been no more than a slave to be used as he willed. He might have kept you as a gedikli, a girl forced to bathe and dress him, to serve his food, and perhaps if he was desirous of you, to share his bed. One of his subjects would have recorded, in detail, Boabdil’s couching of you, each intimacy, to assure the legitimacy of his heirs.
“After a time, you might have become his ikbal, or favorite. He has many favorites. His wives are known as kadins. The first is the hatun, the great lady, one who shares his attentions with the second wife known as durrah, or parrot. By custom, the Sultan’s allowed only four kadins. Oftentimes he takes many, many more, while the number of concubines he owns is endless. You would have been in that class, no more than his property to give away as he saw fit. Perhaps to another man for political purposes with the man forcing you to lie with him and bear his children, until he tired of you and sent you to the slave market for purchase by another man.”
Fernando grabbed Isabella’s arm and pulled her close. “Even if you had remained in the harem, your life would have been worth nothing before you were with child. If you were unfortunate enough to bear the Sultan’s son, you and the infant would have been at great risk. There are many other women in the harem, like those known as kumas, or rivals, who intend to ascend to power through their male heirs. On an order from any of them, you and the child might have been drowned or poisoned and the crime would have remained unknown to the outside world, because no one, not even a magistrate, can breach the sanctity of harem. The Moors believe in qisma, a fate determined before any of us are born and out of our hands, whether it be good fate or bad. No, my queen, what I demand of you on this journey is hardly brutal. Even though you continue to deny what is rightfully mine, you will never come to harm under my protection. You will never be shamed. I give you my pledge. Tanto monta, monta tanto Isabella como Fernando.”
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