Birds of Prey - Smith Wilbur (версия книг TXT) 📗
In every room she encountered a subtle, delicate feminine influence. It was not only the lingering perfume of flowers and incense, but some other living presence that she knew could never have emanated from the sad and sick old man at her side. She did not have to glance behind her to be aware of the girl who had created this aura, her silk clothing whispering and the susurration of the golden sandals on her tiny feet, the scent of the jasmine blossom in her coal-dark hair and the sweet musk of her skin.
In counterpoint, there was the crisp staccato click of the Colonel's heels on the tiles, the creak of his leather and the clink of his scabbard as it swung at his side. His scent was more powerful than that of the girl. It was masculine and rank, sweat and leather and animal, like a stallion pushed hard, bounding between her thighs. In this emotional hothouse in which she found herself, every one of her senses was fully engaged.
At last Governor Kleinhans led them out of the house and across the lawns to where a small gazebo stood, secluded beneath the oaks. An alfresco repast had been laid for them, and Sukeena stood in close attendance, directing the service of the meal with a glance or a subtle, graceful gesture.
Katinka noticed that as each dish or bottle was presented Sukeena tasted a morsel or took a delicate sip, like a butterfly at an open orchid. Her silence was not selfeffacing, for all three seated at the table were intensely aware of her presence.
Cornelius Schreuder sat so close to Katinka that his leg pressed against hers whenever he leaned close to speak to her. They looked down towards the bay, where the Standvastigheid lay at anchor, not far from the Gull of Moray. The galleon had come in during the night, fully laden with her cargo of recovered spices and timber. She would carry Kleinhans northwards on the next leg of her voyage, so he was in haste to settle his affairs here in the Cape. Katinka smiled sweetly at the old man over the rim of her wine glass, knowing that she had him at a disadvantage in the bargaining.
"I wish to sell fifteen of my slaves," he told her, "and I have prepared a list of them, setting out their personal details, their skills and training, their ages and the state of their health. Five of the females are pregnant, so already the buyer will be assured of an increase on his, or her, investment."
Katinka glanced at the document he handed her, then dropped it on the table top. "Tell me about Sukeena." she commanded. "Am I mistaken, or have I detected in her a drop of northern blood? Was her father Dutch?"
Although Sukeena stood close by, Katinka spoke about the girl as though she were an inanimate object, without hearing or human sensitivity, a pretty piece of jewellery or a miniature painting, perhaps.
"You are observant, Mevrouw." Kleinhans inclined his head. "But no, her father was not Dutch. He was an English trader and her mother was a Balinese but, nonetheless, a woman of high breeding. When I saw her she was in her middle age. However, I understand that in her youth she was a great beauty. Although she was merely his concubine, the English trader treated her like a wife."
All three studied Sukeena's features openly. "Yes, you can see the European blood. It is the tone of her skin, and the set and shape of her eyes," said Katinka.
Sukeena kept her eyes lowered, and her expression did not change. Smoothly she continued with her duties.
"What do you think of her appearance, Colonel?" Katinka turned to Schreuder, and pressed her leg against his. "I am always interested in what a man finds attractive. Do you not think her a delicious little creature?"
Schreuder flushed slightly, and moved his chair so that he was no longer looking directly at Sukeena.
"Mevrouw, I have never had a penchant for native girls, even if they are half-castes." Sukeena's face remained impassive even though, at six feet from him, she had heard the derogatory description clearly.
"My tastes incline very much towards our lovely Dutch girls. I would not trade the dross for the pure gold."
"Oh, Colonel, you are so gallant. I envy the pure golden Dutch girl who catches your fancy." She laughed, and he gave her a look more eloquent than the words that rose to his lips, but perforce remained unspoken.
Katinka turned back to Kleinhans. "So if her father was English, does she speak that language? That would be a useful accomplishment, would it not?" indeed, she speaks it with great fluency, but that is not all. She has a way with guilders and runs the household with great economy and efficiency. The other slaves respect and obey her. She has intimate knowledge of Oriental medicines and remedies for all illness-" "A paragon!" Katinka interrupted his recital. "But what of her nature? Is she tractable, docile?"
"She is as she appears," said Kleinhans, concealing the evasion with a ready reply and open face. "I assure you, Mevrouw, that I have owned her for five years and have always found her completely compliant."
Sukeena's face remained as if carved in jade, lovely and remote, but her soul seethed with outrage at the lie. For five years she had withstood him, and only on the few occasions when he had beaten her unconscious had he been able to invade her body. But that had been no victory for him, she knew, and "took comfort from that knowledge. Twice she had recovered her senses while he was still grunting and straining over her like an animal, forcing himself into her dry, reluctant flesh. She did not count this as defeat, she did not even admit to herself that he had conquered her, for the moment that she regained consciousness she had begun to fight him again, with all the strength and determination of before.
"You are not a woman," he had cried in despair, as she thrashed and kicked and wormed out from under him, "you are a devil," and, bleeding where she had bitten him and covered with deep gouges and scratches, he had slunk away, leaving her battered but triumphant. In the end he had given up any attempt at forcing her into submission, and instead had tried every other blandishment.
Once, weeping like an old woman, he had even offered her freedom and marriage, her deed of emancipation on the day that she married him.
