The Sheik And The Slave Ch 16

To the fans of the Sheik and the Slave

You are incredibly patient --and you rock!

Thank you for all your support

Nic

*

"I would see your daughter, Lord Fairfax." Mohammed handed his walking stick and hat to the butler as he followed Edward into the sitting room.

The sitting room was decorated in pastel blue and silver and showed a woman's hand but still elegant.

"I'm sorry, sir. It is an impossibility." Edward seemed pale and shaken.

But Mohammed would have none of this. He knew this was going to be an uphill battle but he was prepared for it. He would have no other woman. Kat would be his bride.

"Lord Fairfax. It is I who should beg your forgiveness. I should have approached you man to man and asked for Kat's hand in marriage long ago. I have loved her for to long and had I done so -- it would have saved us all some heartache."

Edward settled himself onto a small chair. "I expected this. She has been so distant of late, and I suspected the marriage between her and Jamie was not right."

Mohammed stood before the older man. "I want to seek her hand in marriage. Do I have your permission?"

Edward shook his head. "Well that's it, dear boy. She-she's disappeared."

"What do you mean disappeared?"

"I had business in London. I have been gone. When I returned, the house was in an uproar."

Mohammed kneeled before Edward and grabbed his shoulders. "Tell me. What has happened?"

"I know very little. She was last seen walking along the grounds. She has taken to doing that. One stable boy swears he saw a man with a horse and cart leaving the grounds. We had no goods dropped off that day so he must have taken her off the grounds in the cart. Why would someone want to harm her?" He asked Mohammed, his eyes filling with tears. "Why? She has no enemies."

No, Mohammed thought. There he was wrong. Kat had made quite a few enemies in Arabia. And they must have followed her here to finish what Yasmeen started.

***********************

Mohammed and Edward stood amid the horses as they examined the young stable boy Jeremy. He was about 16 years old with a mop of blonde hair and brown eyes.

The young boy swallowed nervously as he stared at Mohammed and Edward.

"I seen 'im comin' down the drive late," the young stable boy claimed.

"You are certain?" Mohammed asked.

"Yes, sir. I am that." Jeremy nodded.

"Please explain in detail what you saw," Mohammed asked.

"Not much to tell really. I was taking a walk and saw the man in the cart with one 'orse leavin' the grounds. 'e did seem to be carryin' a load but I didn' see it. I only say it now as 'e kept looking back at 'is load again and again."

Mohammed nodded. "Excellent. And can you describe the man?"

Edward dabbed at his eyes as the boy continued, "Yes sir. 'e were brown 'aired, with a scruffy beard and peasant's clothes. Looked rather dirty."

Mohammed swore to himself. Nothing distinguishable. The man, his horse and cart probably fit the description of half the men in England. For all the boy's remarkable memory -- it helped them not at all.

He gave the boy two gold coins. "Thank you Jeremy. Well done."

It was not the boy's fault that all of his information was useless.

Mohammed turned to Edward. Edward seemed shrunken and pale.

This was the second time he had lost his precious jewel. If their roles were reversed, Mohammed would probably feel the same way.

"Lord Fairfax. We will find her. Rest assured. I will not stop until I have discovered what mischief goes on here."

He turned and followed Edward back to the great house. Halfway back to the house they heard a yell.

"Me lords, wait!" Yelled Jeremy who came running up to the two men.

"I do 'member somethin' tho it's prob'ly nuthin'," he said.

"Out with it, Son. Whatever it is," Edward said.

"The man. The one I saw. He had a ugly lookin' scar on his right cheek," Jeremy smiled. "Does that 'elp?"

Mohammed stopped suddenly. He felt a shudder in his body. He grabbed the boy's shoulder. "Are you sure, Jeremy? Absolutely sure? Think hard. It's very important."

"Oh aye sir. I 'member wonderin' 'ow 'e got it. Yes, twas the right cheek."

Mohammed swallowed once. "Thank you, son."

Jeremy turned happy to have obliged his lord and the foreign gentlemen his gold coins gleaming in his hand.

As Mohammed followed Lord Fairfax he prayed his knees didn't buckle under him. The demons had followed them from Arabia to England.

*******************

"Please dearie. Drink the water." Abigail cooed to the young woman. But her attentions were useless. The young woman hadn't woken up since she had been dumped on their steps.

It didn't take an intellectual to know that the stranger was a gentlewoman. It was obvious. She was a slender woman with high cheekbones, lush lips and golden hair.

The novices had cleaned the young lady up and the blood had been much.

They had dressed her in a long white cotton night gown but she had still not stirred.

Abigail tried again to get the woman to drink the water but she would not wake.

She ran her fingers along the spine and binding of the book by the French philosopher Voltaire "Histoire De Charles XII" which she had been reading the night before.

She would read aloud to the young woman. Even if she didn't understand French, perhaps the language would stir the young woman into waking.

The nights were always the longest inside the Abbey. It was a cold, dank place and she passed many a night reading to herself or writing to her sister.

She brought the candle closer and began to read quietly in the room.

*****************

Abdullah was still waiting for his token of agreement to come to him to know that the plan with Jean Baptiste had worked.

It had been difficult to persuade Mohammed to bring him along with him from Arabia. But Mohammed had been set upon the disastrous idea of marriage and he had wanted Abdullah's guidance regarding the marriage certificate. Eventually Abdullah had translated the document into Arabic for Mohammed. Mohammed could have easily done so himself but he was too preoccupied with the white witch.

Daleel the younger advisor had made the journey to England also but had quickly returned home. He had never been outside of Arabia and the food had turned his stomach and the cold had chilled him to the bone.

He had begged Mohammed's pardon and returned home.

But not Abdullah. Abdullah had asked for his Lord's permission to stay on in England for his service and need and Mohammed had agreed.

But unknown to anyone else, Abdullah had been in dealings with Jean Baptiste in Arabia and had paid the man in gold.

It had all been planned so well. Jean Baptiste was a Frenchman through his mother's side but his father had been a slave trader in Arabia and was in fact an Arab.

Jean Baptiste was well known in Arabia and had been imprisoned several times but his mother had become a concubine to Mohammed's father.

She was able to intervene on behalf of Jean Baptiste and reduce his sentence. When she had died he had committed several crimes and had become a wanted man.

Abdullah knew that when his plan began to formulate in his brain, Jean Baptiste would take care of the problem -- for a fee of course.

He clasped his hands lightly together and pondered the situation.

He had not under taken the kidnapping and dismissal of the white woman lightly.

He had thought long and hard about her presence at Mohammed's side and had studied the Quran intensely.

The book of Surah in the Quran had been quite an eyeful.

It had read: "And do not marry Al-Mushrikats (idolatress, etc.) until they believe (worship Allah alone). And indeed a slave woman is better than a (free) Mushrikah (idolatress, etc.), even though she pleases you."

The Quran stated it quite clearly. It would rather have Mohammed have a slave woman who believes -- then a free woman who does not believe.

The book also continued to say: "Lawful unto you in marriage not only chaste women who are believers, but chaste women among the People of the Book...if anyone rejects faith, fruitless is his work, and in the Hereafter he will be in the ranks of those who have lost all the spiritual good."

He had hung his head in silence after reading the line. Mohammed would be lost to the ranks of the spiritual good if he took up with the woman.

How would the people of Arabia accept him as their leader and guide of the Islamic faith when he aligned himself with the ajamiyah (foreigner)? It was unthinkable.

And even if they did accept her in the beginning, eventually she would bear fruit of their relationship and would surely want to raise the child as a Christian thus severing the child's ties to Allah. Unthinkable!

He had to save Mohammed from himself. It was obvious. And then it came to him. The plan.

He would pay Jean Baptiste's passage to England and lay the trap.

He had watched her on the large property. She was a beauty and it was easy to see why Mohammed was enchanted by her.

With her billowing skirts seductively wrapping around her legs she was a woman in her prime.

He thought of his beloved wife Safa. She was older now and had born him several sons, but she did not have the beauty of this one.

He had been like a large hawk watching the little grey mouse. It had unsettled him at first. She didn't stand a chance. If the plan went down properly -- she would be taken back to Arabia before Mohammed knew anything at all.

She would be sold into the white slave trade that was an underground business in much of the Arab world.

She would end up as some man's chimney sweep, a charwoman or a maid. But all of that was ridiculous to suppose.

Once money changed hands, the blonde vixen would end up on her back taking anything and everything inside her tight body. He was sure of it.

But it was of no concern to him. She was standing in the way and had been for a long time. He had hoped that Yasmeen's scheming would get rid of the girl -- but it had not.

Abdullah knew he had to step in and do what was right for Mohammed and for Arabia.

It was all up to him. He would make certain the little chit was gone. And now she was.

But almost a week had gone by and no sight or sound from Jean Baptiste. When he and the girl boarded the ship bound for Arabia- he was to have sent a token back to Abdullah as confirmation that they were gone.

He had received nothing.

He seethed inside.

The girl was like sweet honey in the warm sun. Men smelled her and had to taste her.

The idiot had probably taken the woman to sample her for himself. Fool!

The longer they were in England the quicker the chances were Mohammed would find them. Damn him.

He hoped the idiot would tire of the girl soon and board the ship. The sooner they were out of the country the better.

********************

The words trickled over her tongue lovingly. She had always loved the French language even though it wasn't her native tongue.

Bessie, the young red-headed novice, was attentively doing her needlepoint while Penelope was listening to Abigail read.

The three women were seated around the bed of the

unknown woman as Abigail continued to read the book by Voltaire.

She ended a chapter and glanced quietly at the woman.

"Isn't it sad?" Penelope asked the Abbess. "She's ever so lovely. Where are her people?"

Before Abigail could answer Bessie spoke to her friend. "Maybe she was kicked out of her home. On account of the baby." She spoke the last word in a whisper.

"Bessie, what did I tell you about that?" Abigail sternly reprimanded the girl.

Bessie looked down and apologized. "I'm sorry."

Abigail shook her head at the two young girls.

"Off to bed with both of you. I'll stay and read a little while longer." Abigail dismissed the two girls.

Bessie and Penelope roomed together in a small room inside the great brick building. As soon as they entered the room, Bessie was scooting out the window.

"Be a love and cover for me."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "You're a disgrace. We're here to be nuns and love the lord."

Bessie snorted. "You may be -- not me. I'm here because my father is trying to get rid of me. I've other ideas and they have nothing whatsoever to do with the lord."

Penelope removed her cotton dress and felt her nipples pucker in the cold air. "Go on then. I'll cover for you." She reached for her bedgown.

Bessie smiled and raced across the stones and outside the main door.

*******************************

"Your late." He said, a frown on his face as he watched the girl enter the barn.

"Well I can't help it. The old prune was reading to us in French." Bessie groaned. "I understood about 10 words after an hour of reading."

He pulled her down into the straw. "We'll I've no want for talk at all -- French or otherwise."

"Oh yes?" She asked as her hand wandered over his trousers. "What do you desire?"

He grinned in the dark. "A little tart with a smart mouth."

"Tart is it?" She squirmed as he pulled her dress down and tongued a hard nipple. Her body was slender and her breasts barely a handful. But she was as tight as a virgin.

"Come on love. You've kept me waitin'. At least make up for it."

She giggled as she got on her knees and unbuttoned his trousers. "Your so big." She took his pink mushroom head deep in her mouth and moaned as his tongue touched her wet pussy.

His tongue lapped up her juices as they fell upon his face.

She straddled him as he continued his torment. They each pleasured the other until Bessie started to moan.

"Oh, yes Jeremy. Yes." She orgasmed just as he jerked hot milky cum into her eager mouth. She savored the taste on her tongue and swallowed.

"Good girl," he said.

She giggled. "You taste much better than French." She licked her lips and fell back next to him in the hay.

"You're a hot little tart, Bessie. Come to me tomorrow."

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. I have extra duties to attend." She answered. He was too sure of himself and she would like to spend time with the young woman who seemed so alone.

He buttoned himself up. "Tomorrow. Don't be late."

******************

Bessie stayed awhile longer in the hay. She wasn't in a hurry to get back to Penelope and their small cold room. She stayed in the barn with the smell of sex and hay heavy in the air.

Her fingers found her slit still warm and hot and she pushed one digit inside.

She was a simple girl with six brothers and two sisters. Her father was the local parson and kept a strict household. He had decided that she was to marry but she had no interest in any of the young men her father had picked.

When she showed signs of being a flirt with no interest in settling down her father had put his foot down.

He had told her that if she wasn't to be taken as a bride of a mortal man --she would marry the lord himself and sent her off to the Abbess.

Bessie had thought it a joke at first but soon grew to love the quiet Abbey. She made friends and kept to herself but she missed the boys' attention at home.

She had been the "fun girl" in her village.

Many a night she had been curled up in a haystack or sweet smelling grass getting a mouth full of hot cum. She loved the salty smell and taste of sperm as it hit the back of her throat. She also loved feeling the sperm pump down the pink shaft as the boys moaned and sighed.

One night she had been jumped by three youths in the village down the road from her own.

It had been quite a night. At first she had cried as their hands roamed her body, but then she had calmed down. They were stronger and they would have their way with her so she decided to enjoy the night.

They spoke sweet words in her ear as one pressed his cock inside her tight cunt and another pushed his cock inside her mouth.

She felt filled and stuffed and rather liked the sensation. She had cried once after the third boy had filled her with his cream and then used it to moisten her tight ass.

She had tried to stop him but the other two held her still. They had anchored her body over an ale barrel and after the boy had come inside her ass --the other two took turns. At one time, Bessie had been pumped by all of them at the same time.

They had laughingly called her their "fun doll." It had been an evening she remembered fondly.

Inside the Abbey --there was no such enjoyment except that which she gave herself.

But now she had Jeremy. He was a local stable hand from the nearby great house -- she was ecstatic.

She came again and licked her fingers clean. Best to be off, she thought.

****************

Bessie had been bored the entire day. The day had been filled with prayer, prayer and surprise -- more prayer. She had been on her knees half the day on the cold stone floor and it irritated her.

Besides, she thought to herself. She could think of much more exciting things to do on her knees.

She took the large brush in one hand and combed the girl's long tresses.

Across the bed from Bessie was the Abbess reading that book in French yet again.

Bessie remembered the time she and the local milkman's son had been alone in her father's small one-roomed church one Sunday morning.

It had been a cold morning and her nipples had hardened underneath the worn cloth.

Ben had seen her nipples harden and had begun to rub his leg against hers. She had told him playfully to stop as the church services were to start soon but he had continued his attentions.

Eventually she had ended up across her father's pulpit with Ben's cock deep inside her pussy. She had milked him dry and smiled at the thought.

She had sat through her father's service on chastity and virginity with Ben's cum dripping down her inside leg.

*****************

Bessie sighed. At least she had Jeremy now. It had been so boring and lonesome without him.

She drew the brush threw the girl's golden hair as the Abbess continued to read the stale book.

She looked at the girl longingly and her heart felt heavy. She was beautiful, there was no doubt. Her long golden hair fanned out about her and her cheekbones were high and delicate. Her face looked like that of a gentlewoman and her hands were soft and fine.

She must have been a woman of a great house and then cast down because of the baby. Or maybe she was married and the man had died? Bessie's mind whirled. But the woman wore no ring.

The poor baby, she thought.

The next time she and Jeremy spoke she would tell him about the young woman. Maybe he would have an idea about her identity.

Just as the Abbess turned the page of Voltaire's book, the woman began to moan in her sleep.

It started both woman and the Abbess dropped her book in her haste to get to the girl.

"Did you hear that, my dear?" Abigail asked Bessie.

"Yes, Abbess. It sounded like gobbledygook." Bessie confirmed.

"No, no. It sounded like something else." Abigail looked down at the girl sleeping.

But though Kat said nothing again in her sleep, Abigail was concerned.

She touched her forehead lovingly and found it burning with fever.

"I'll return shortly. Watch over her, my girl." She told Bessie.

********************

Abigail settled herself behind the large oak desk and pulled a sheet of paper.

The letter was dated accordingly and began: "To Father of Kildare."

Abigail finished the lengthy letter and would await a response. If the girl was ailing or ill, the best place for her was in Kildare with the renowned Father of medicine. There she would be looked after and Abigail would take care of matters here.

*********************

Mohammed cradled the glass of brandy but it did nothing to hide his fear and despair. She was in England of that he was certain. But where?

And more importantly, what enemy had followed them here and contracted Jean Baptiste to wretch her from his arms?