The Sheik

His hand reached out suddenly and he dragged her down into his arms

again with a laugh. "And if I have, are you jealous? What if the nights

I spent away from you were passed in my harem--what then?"

"Then may Allah put it into the heart of one of your wives to poison

you so that you never come back," she said fiercely.

"Allah! So beautiful and so bloodthirsty," he said in bantering

reproof. Then he turned her face up to his, smiling into her angry eyes

with amusement. "I have no harem and, thanks be to Allah, no wives,

cherie. Does that please you?"

"Why should I care? It is nothing to me," she replied sharply, with a

vivid blush.

He held her closer, looking deeply into her eyes, holding them as he

could when he liked, in spite of her efforts to turn them away--a

mesmerism she could not resist.

"Shall I make you care? Shall I make you love me? I can make women love

me when I choose."

She went very white and her eyes flickered. She knew that he was only

amusing himself, that he was utterly indifferent to her feelings, that

he did not care if she hated or loved him, but it was a new form of

torture that was more detestable than anything that had gone before it.

It infuriated her that he could even suggest that she could come to

care for him, that she could ever look on him as anything but a brutal

savage who had committed a hideous outrage, that she could ever have

any feeling for him except hatred and loathing. That he should class

her with the other women he spoke of revolted her, she felt degraded,

soiled as she had never done before, and she had thought that she had

felt the utmost humiliation of her position.

The colour rushed back into her face. "I would rather you killed me,"

she cried passionately.

"So would I," he said drily, "for if you loved me you would bore me and

I should have to let you go. While as it is"--he laughed softly--"as it

is I do not regret the chance that took me into Biskra that day."

He let her go and got up with a yawn, watching her approvingly as she

crossed the tent. The easy swing of her boyish figure and the defiant

carriage of her head reminded him of one of his own thoroughbred

horses. She was as beautiful and as wild as they were. And as he broke

them so would he break her. She was nearly tamed now, but not quite,

and by Allah! it should be quite! As he turned his foot struck against

the jade necklace lying on the rug where she had thrown it. He picked

it up and called her back. She came reluctantly, slowly, with mutinous

eyes.