“Why not? Come and sit down on the other side. Normally, they’re milked from behind, but if you want me to teach you, it’s better like this. We’ll each take a teat and you shall do exactly as I do.”
The animal’s udder felt pleasantly warm and soft in Emily’s hand as she expressed the milk. The goat turned her head and looked at her with large brown eyes as if to ask, What’s going on? Why are you working so slowly?
Next it was Sabri’s turn. But try as he might, he could only express a few paltry drops. The disgruntled goat tried to kick him, knocking over the dish.
“Do it with feeling, Hakim! Where are your sensitive physician’s hands?” Emily convulsed with laughter.
“Go ahead and make fun of me!” He gave her a helpless look. “I have been living in Mogador all my life. How was I to know that milking a goat requires such finesse?”
“I’ll show you once more,” Emily said. Without taking her eyes off Sabri, she reached for his hands underneath the goat and placed them on the udder.
“There,” she continued patiently. “And now you ask her with your fingers to give you her milk. But you must do it gently, lovingly. After all, you are asking her to give you her children’s nourishment.”
Steadily and evenly, her hands over his, Emily guided him through the pressing and stroking motions, and soon, a thin stream of milk squirted into the bowl.
“I can do it!” Sabri shouted enthusiastically.
“Really? You no longer need my help?”
“Well, yes, I do.” He winked at her. “That would be nice.”
Their eyes met and, slowly, their faces neared each other. When their lips touched over the goat’s brown back, Emily closed her eyes and lost herself in the glory of her first kiss. Somewhere in her consciousness, she remembered something Thomas had told her, something about Sabri’s being promised to an Arab girl in Mogador, but she blocked out that thought, especially when Sabri took hold of her face and kissed her more and more. It was only when the goat bleated loudly and jerked on its rope that they returned to the present moment.
“That was beautiful,” Emily whispered as she untied the rope with jittery fingers.
“We could repeat it sometime,” Sabri suggested hopefully.
She took a deep breath and looked into his warm, kind eyes. Perhaps Thomas had been mistaken. Perhaps there was no promised bride. Sabri was not acting as though there was another woman waiting for him.
“Why ‘sometime’? We will be undisturbed over there.” She took him by the hand and led him to an unused horse stall in the remotest corner of the stable. Sabri pulled her close and they were locked in a tight embrace when they sank to the thin layer of hay on the mud floor. André’s horse in the next stall snorted. There was a warm smell of leather, hay, and animals, and Emily could not remember feeling as alive as she did just now.
Sabri kissed her for a long time with abandon and when he said, “Do you know that I love you, Emily?” her joy knew no bounds.
“I love you too.” She took his hand and guided it to the neckline of her tunic. He flinched when his fingertips felt her naked breast, but she held his hand in place. “I want us to do what married people do when they love each other.” She looked deeply into his eyes while she placed her hand on the crotch of his pants.
“Emily! What are you doing?” He tried to push her away. “And how on earth do you know that a man is, uh, sensitive there?”
“Malika told me. She’s been married before and she told me everything.” Emily felt very worldly and experienced.
She assumed that her own desire was not very different from Sabri’s. He exhibited what Malika referred to as a “love column” in the same place where her “heavenly lips” were located. Emily did not have her own name for the place between her legs. Nor for that mysterious little organ that Malika called an “almond,” which brought such wonderful pleasure if she massaged it gently.
“I wish you could crawl inside my body and experience all of my emotions for yourself!” she whispered and pressed herself against Sabri. When she felt how big and hard he became, her eyes grew wide. So that’s why Malika had talked about a column! She forgot everything around her, felt only the two of them, their bodies filled with warmth and passion. She lifted her pelvis toward Sabri expectantly. But to her surprise, he pulled away from her a little.
“Emily, we shouldn’t do anything we might regret.”
“What do you mean, regret? Malika has told me that it’s very beautiful.”
She looked confused and hurt and that hurt him. He so wanted to make love to her, enter her body, melt into her soul. But, in the house of the qaid of Mogador, there was a young girl, his bride. He had never seen her, but it had been decided long ago that she would become his wife. That is what both sets of parents had determined when the little girl was born and he was a boy of twelve.
“We first have to be married to do what we both would like to do,” he said to assuage Emily.
“Then let us get married!” She looked at him, her eyes large and full of anticipation like those of a child receiving a present.
But Sabri stayed silent, afraid to speak the truth and hurt this woman he loved.
She sat up and hugged her knees. “You want to marry me but cannot because your parents have already chosen a bride for you, is that it?”
“You know about that?” He was flabbergasted.
She nodded. “Thomas told me when he noticed that I liked you. He warned me to forget my feelings for you.”
Sabri pulled Emily into his arms, rested his chin on her head, and caressed her curls. “I love you, Emily, and it is my greatest wish to spend my life with you. But it will not be easy. Your reputation and that of my bride are at stake. Her family will be insulted if I break the engagement and my parents will be shamed. We will have to pay a high price for our happiness. Are you willing to do that?”
She lifted her head and looked at him defiantly. “Your religion permits polygamy.”
“You mean you would—” He was utterly taken by surprise.
“Of course, I insist on being your chief wife!”
“No, Emily, no,” countered Sabri once he had recovered from the shock. “I love you and only you. I want to share my future with you.”
“Emily? Where are you?” They heard Sibylla’s voice approaching.
Emily felt as though she were being torn out of a beautiful dream. She reluctantly freed herself from Sabri’s arms. “I have to go. Wait a little bit until I’ve distracted my mother. Then you can sneak away.” She stood up and shook the hay out of her skirt.
“Wait!” Sabri held her back. “I want you to know one thing: I will find a solution.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “We will find a solution.”
Chapter Thirty
When Sibylla stepped into the stable, Emily was standing in the milking area with a bowl full of fresh goat’s milk in each hand. “Hello, Mother. Have you come to help me carry these?”