Lithely the dancer realigned herself so that she was coiled in front of Ross. She was still breathing hard from her exertions and her ripe breasts threatened to burst from her minimal bodice. Golden bracelets jingling, she purred, "Tell me what you desire, O lord of the ferengi."
A wave of heat coursed through Ross's body, for the dancer was the embodiment of sensuality and she was acting out a man's deepest fantasy. It was impossible not to be affected, and he had to swallow hard before he managed to say, "You dance very well."
"Zahra is my gift to you for the night, Lord Khilburn." Abdul Samut Khan accompanied the comment with a knowing elbow in Ross's ribs. "I realized that you have been deprived of what a man needs for health and happiness, so take her to your room and dance with her to your heart's content."
Zahra slithered forward and lifted her veil so Ross could see her face. Though the movement was coy, the invitation was as blatant as if a Western woman had ripped open her bodice. Her black lashes fluttered over dark velvet eyes as she raised a languid hand to run her fingers through Ross's hair, whispering, "Like fine-spun gold."
She was a gift few men would—or could—refuse. If Ross had been the man he claimed to be, with a staid wife back in England, it would have been almost impossible to resist temptation, at least a temptation that was half-naked and in his lap. But he wasn't that man, and his wife was thirty feet away.
Glancing up, he found that Juliet's gaze was on him and even across the width of the dance floor her outrage was palpable. Ross almost laughed out loud.
Deciding that it was time for the night's real entertainment to begin, he removed the warm hand that was creeping up his leg. "A thousand thanks for your consideration, Abdul Samut Khan. Zahra is magnificent, a gift fit for an emperor, but since I am a married man, I must decline your generosity."
The nayeb gave him an astonished glance. "Your wife is on the other side of the world and Zahra is right here."
"True, but the laws of my religion forbid adultery, and there is no exemption for being far from home."
His host's heavy brows drew together. "There will be a troupe of dancing boys next. Would you prefer one of those? That would not be adultery."
After detaching the soft fingers that had resettled on his knee, Ross got to his feet. He saw that the spot on the other side of the floor where Juliet had been was now empty, and hoped she wasn't circling around so that she could knife him in the ribs. "But it would be equally a sin in the eyes of my people."
The nayeb looked at him with disbelief and some respect. "Truly you are a devout man."
"Perhaps, but I am still a man, and subject to temptation, so I think it best that I retire to my chamber before I succumb." Ross patted Zahra on the head. "Sin was never so sweet."
Unmollified, she pulled her veil over her face again and flounced up to join the other dancers, her eyes snapping with anger. The way Abdul Samut Khan's gaze followed her gave Ross a reasonably good idea of where Zahra would be spending the night.
After taking leave of his host, Ross worked his way through the sweaty enthusiastic crowd, Yawer Shahid Mahmud and another soldier behind him. The air was fresher inside the house, but scarcely quieter, for the pulsing beat of the dance music permeated the mud-brick walls. When they reached the door of his rooms, Ross turned to bid his escorts good night.
The young soldier bobbed his head amiably, but Shahid responded with a scowl. "Because of you, ferengi, I have been deprived of the pleasure of going to war."
"I regret that," Ross said, a statement that was true for a number of reasons. "It is a crime to waste a warrior's skill, but the decision to keep you in Bokhara was not mine."
The yawer jerked his head at the guard, who prudently withdrew out of earshot. Then, eyes narrowed, Shahid said, "Nonetheless, you are responsible, and you shall pay for it."
Ross suppressed a sigh. "I'm sure you have a suggestion for how I can make it up to you."
"In gold or in blood. The choice is yours." Shahid's face twisted threateningly. "Give me two thousand gold ducats and I shall guard you as tenderly as a mother with her firstborn babe. If you refuse..." He shrugged his massive shoulders eloquently.
"No one in Bokhara seems to believe this, but Englishmen are not made of gold," Ross said mildly. "Good night, Yawer Mahmud."
As he started to open the door, Shahid snapped, "So the devout infidel retires to his bed, there to hump his Tuareg boy."
Ross's hand tightened on the knob and he half-turned to the Uzbek. "I do not hump boys, Tuareg or otherwise." His eyes narrowed. "I believe that is a military habit."