Dream of Me/Believe in Me

directly as it would be for him to touch you.”
    “That's absurd!” Quickly remembering herself, she addressed the Moor. “I am sorry, I don't wish to be rude, but I have never heard of such a thing.”
    Wolf shrugged. “It is commonplace in the East.”
    “A very civilized place, the East,” Dragon commented. When his sister-in-law glared at him, he laughed. His gaze fell to the torque at her neck. “You bristle at being called property yet you wear my brother's mark.”
    “I wear a bride's gift.” Her eyes flared. “Or do you perceive no difference between a wife and, say, a horse?”
    Dragon was seized by a sudden fit of coughing that, oddly enough, seemed to be contagious. It afflicted Kareem as well. Only Wolf appeared immune, and he seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face.
    “Is it so absurd to say that a wife is different from that?” she demanded.
    He shook his head until he was sure he could speak.
    “No,
elskling
, of course it isn't.” Whatever kindly thoughts she might have had for him as a result of that vanished in an instant when she saw his look of masculine amusement.
    Abruptly, she realized what a wife and a horse had in common—both were mounted by a man. Her face flamed. Before she could react, Wolf moved judiciously to calm her.
    “The ways of the East are different from ours but that isn't to say they are wrong. Wives are deeply respected, sheltered and protected, provided with every possible luxury. Surely that isn't so terrible.”
    “Quite right,” Kareem affirmed. “The harem is a fine custom. There's a great deal to be said for it.”
    “What is a harem?” Cymbra asked. She'd come too far to back down now.
    Before Wolf could reply, ever-helpful Dragon did so. “Where the women live, secluded from the world, seen only by their lord and master.” He raised an eyebrow, inviting her reaction.
    Kareem glanced from one brother to the other and stepped in hastily.
“All
the women of the household, old and young, mothers, aunts, cousins, daughters as well as wives, and the very young boys, too. It's a very spacious part of any residence with its own gardens, courtyards, fountains, and so on. Very pleasant, very nice.”
    “But the women are not allowed to leave there?”
    “Oh, no, they can leave. They must only go veiled from the eyes of other men, of course, and with escort. That is all for their own comfort, obviously.”
    “I see.” She glanced at Wolf and murmured, “However did you miss requiring a veil, husband?”
    “There are other kinds of harems,” Dragon commented. He ignored his brother's quelling look and went on cheerfully. “Remember Erik Leifson?”
    “Dragon …” Wolf's tone of warning went unheeded.
    “He had the villa just outside Constantinople, near the beach. Still does, as far as I know.”
    Kareem nodded. “Yes, of course I remember him. He is still there and doing extremely well for himself.”
    Dragon grinned. “I'm sure he is. Very generous fellow, Erik. Always wants his friends to be happy.”
    “I don't think this is—” Wolf began.
    “Now there's a harem,” Dragon continued blithely. “Erik isn't just a collector, he's a connoisseur.” He sighed deeply, savoring memories. “There was a Circasian … incredible woman, had hair red as fire … and a Nubian with remarkably beautiful eyes who had trained as a gymnast and could—” He sighed again. “Remind me why we finally dragged ourselves away, Wolf, I forget.”
    “What I'm trying to remember is why I didn't leave you there,” his brother muttered.
    Dragon laughed. “You need me to liven things up?” As Kareen stroked his beard and chuckled, Dragon nodded thoughtfully. “All in all, I'd say the way of the East is better. A man always knows where his women are, at his beck and call, exactly as they should be. As for the women, they have no thought but pleasing their master and they're the happier for it.”
    Silence followed this ringing declaration. Wolf studied his drinking cup, apparently with an eye to crushing it. Dragon lounged back in his chair, well pleased with himself. As for Kareem, he made a manful effort to conceal his amusement but did not entirely succeed.
    Cymbra folded her hands in her lap and smiled. With perfect pleasantness, she asked, “Tell me, my lord Kareem, do you carry any medicinals in your cargo?”
    “Medicinals?”
    “He's not sure what you—” Wolf began.
    “I heard what he said.” Cymbra smiled again, aware of