give in and let him lead her meekly away like a goat to slaughter.
Abdullah was surprisingly agile for a man of such size. When Cecile turned to flee, he leapt like a cat, restraining her before she could run. Then he lifted her in the air, tucked her under one thick arm, and strode from the room.
The woman had wisely elected to remain in the corridor, but was ready when Abdullah emerged from the room. He set Cecile on her feet, arms pinned to her sides, and at his nod the servant stepped forward. She held what appeared to be a golden collar and leash, and slipped the collar about Cecile’s neck.
“Hurry,” Abdullah grunted. “All goes well tonight and soon it will be this one’s turn.”
For one long, awful instant, Cecile’s heart seemed to cease its beating. “All goes well tonight.” She did not know what he meant for certain, but she had a horrible, gut-wrenching suspicion.
The urge to run was almost instinctive. Cecile didn’t even think about it, she simply moved. And discovered the golden collar’s effectiveness.
It tightened cruelly, cutting off her breath. Prying at it with her fingers did no good. It would not loosen without slack in the leash. The woman finally provided it, and Cecile gasped for air.
“Now you will behave, I think,” the woman said. “Come.” She tugged on the leash, and Cecile had no choice but to follow. Helpless rage flooded her body and reddened her vision so that she was barely able to see where they were going. Her one thought was a silent prayer that the pouch containing the will, which she had tied in the long, thick hair at the nape of her neck, had managed to stay in place.
Down the long corridor they continued, back the way she had come earlier that day. As they neared the large, central room, Cecile was able to hear voices: an unfamiliar one calling out what sounded like numbers, and Muhammad, cajoling.
It was bidding she heard! Reality dropped like lead into the pit of Cecile’s stomach. She, and others like her, were being bought and paid for like animals!
“Come along now, you are next.”
The woman gave another tug on the leash, pulling Cecile forward. Her footsteps faltered only for an instant. Then she pulled herself up, rigidly erect, the shreds of her dignity wrapped about her like a cloak, and stepped before her audience.
A stunned silence descended upon those assembled, followed by low whispers of surprise and delight. At the front of the room, Muhammad took the leash from his servant, flicked an approving glace over Cecile’s nearly naked form, and beamed at his guests.
“Each one is finer than the last,” Hassan said to his white-robed friend. “And this one …” He paused to sip his wine and lick his lips appreciatively. “Praise Allah … she is incredible!”
El Faris silently agreed. The girl was truly magnificent. More so, to his eyes, at least, because her skin was not as pale as some of the others. Enhanced by the amber-colored gauze that covered her long, straight limbs and the soft light of the braziers, her flesh glowed like pale gold. The raven hair cascading to her tiny waist gleamed with blue-black luster.
But it was none of these things that made the heart within his breast beat just a little faster. There was something different about her, something special. In the way she stood, perhaps, shoulders back and chin lifted, with pride, nobility, defiance. Or in the gaze from her large, expressive eyes, glaring at them all, bright and fierce beneath the think fringe of bangs. It was as if the blood of the Badawin ran in her veins, imbuing her with unconquerable spirit and the iron will to endure despite all odds. Yes, he told himself. She was the one. Indeed, she was the one.
Muhammad was speaking, but El Faris did not listen. He waited only for the man to finish. Then he raised his hand to open the bidding. He did not miss Suhayl’s quick frown or swiftly signaling fingers. So, it was to be like that, was it? The agent
Abdullah was surprisingly agile for a man of such size. When Cecile turned to flee, he leapt like a cat, restraining her before she could run. Then he lifted her in the air, tucked her under one thick arm, and strode from the room.
The woman had wisely elected to remain in the corridor, but was ready when Abdullah emerged from the room. He set Cecile on her feet, arms pinned to her sides, and at his nod the servant stepped forward. She held what appeared to be a golden collar and leash, and slipped the collar about Cecile’s neck.
“Hurry,” Abdullah grunted. “All goes well tonight and soon it will be this one’s turn.”
For one long, awful instant, Cecile’s heart seemed to cease its beating. “All goes well tonight.” She did not know what he meant for certain, but she had a horrible, gut-wrenching suspicion.
The urge to run was almost instinctive. Cecile didn’t even think about it, she simply moved. And discovered the golden collar’s effectiveness.
It tightened cruelly, cutting off her breath. Prying at it with her fingers did no good. It would not loosen without slack in the leash. The woman finally provided it, and Cecile gasped for air.
“Now you will behave, I think,” the woman said. “Come.” She tugged on the leash, and Cecile had no choice but to follow. Helpless rage flooded her body and reddened her vision so that she was barely able to see where they were going. Her one thought was a silent prayer that the pouch containing the will, which she had tied in the long, thick hair at the nape of her neck, had managed to stay in place.
Down the long corridor they continued, back the way she had come earlier that day. As they neared the large, central room, Cecile was able to hear voices: an unfamiliar one calling out what sounded like numbers, and Muhammad, cajoling.
It was bidding she heard! Reality dropped like lead into the pit of Cecile’s stomach. She, and others like her, were being bought and paid for like animals!
“Come along now, you are next.”
The woman gave another tug on the leash, pulling Cecile forward. Her footsteps faltered only for an instant. Then she pulled herself up, rigidly erect, the shreds of her dignity wrapped about her like a cloak, and stepped before her audience.
A stunned silence descended upon those assembled, followed by low whispers of surprise and delight. At the front of the room, Muhammad took the leash from his servant, flicked an approving glace over Cecile’s nearly naked form, and beamed at his guests.
“Each one is finer than the last,” Hassan said to his white-robed friend. “And this one …” He paused to sip his wine and lick his lips appreciatively. “Praise Allah … she is incredible!”
El Faris silently agreed. The girl was truly magnificent. More so, to his eyes, at least, because her skin was not as pale as some of the others. Enhanced by the amber-colored gauze that covered her long, straight limbs and the soft light of the braziers, her flesh glowed like pale gold. The raven hair cascading to her tiny waist gleamed with blue-black luster.
But it was none of these things that made the heart within his breast beat just a little faster. There was something different about her, something special. In the way she stood, perhaps, shoulders back and chin lifted, with pride, nobility, defiance. Or in the gaze from her large, expressive eyes, glaring at them all, bright and fierce beneath the think fringe of bangs. It was as if the blood of the Badawin ran in her veins, imbuing her with unconquerable spirit and the iron will to endure despite all odds. Yes, he told himself. She was the one. Indeed, she was the one.
Muhammad was speaking, but El Faris did not listen. He waited only for the man to finish. Then he raised his hand to open the bidding. He did not miss Suhayl’s quick frown or swiftly signaling fingers. So, it was to be like that, was it? The agent
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