Enchantress (2 page)

“But I heard others in the cells.”

“Merely two of my men who disobeyed orders.” He fingered his beard. “I do not tolerate disobedience from anyone.”

When he saw the color drain from her face, he laughed, and the sinister sound set her to trembling anew. “It is such a pity that you are no longer a virgin, or I could get twice the price for you.”

Before she could protest, he pulled her to him and smiled, his rank breath fanning her face. “Still, you will delight the bed of a great man. Who knows—perhaps even the sultan will take a fancy to you.”

She turned away from him and closed her eyes against the gleam of evil she saw in his eyes.

“Madame, if it were not for the child you carry, I myself would like to test the joys of your body. Perhaps even with the child, you would delight me.”

For a long moment his words hung in the air as he waited for her reaction to his lewd suggestion. When she failed to react, he released her and moved to the door.

“Have no fear that you will be ravished by me, madame. A cold-blooded woman does not warm a man’s bed. Look to your health, and do as you are bid, and you will be well treated. I want you looking healthy and beautiful when I place you on the slave block at Constantinople.”

The hateful man moved quickly out the door, and when it had been secured behind him, Jillianna slid to the floor in a dead faint.

It was much later when Jillianna regained consciousness. The lantern had burned out and the cabin was in darkness. She felt around until she discovered the small bunk. Uncaring that it was filthy, she pulled herself up and fell forward, burying her head on the stiff mattress, where she lost herself in the misery of tears.

Through the endless night, she shed tears of grief. There was no hope for her—no one to come to her rescue and no one to care about what had happened to her.

At last her tears were spent, and she pondered this bizarre turn her life had taken. She had never had a happy life, but now she dared not even think about what awaited her and her unborn baby once they reached Constantinople!

Constantinople

The queen of cities stood in multicolored splendor among her seven lofty hills, with a skyline dominated by spirals and domes of ancient mosques and palaces. Constantinople was the place where Europe met Asia, and it was considered by many to be the shining jewel of this ancient land. The city itself was sprawling, and flanked on one side by the Sea of Marmara, which was accessible only through The Golden Horn, an inlet some four miles long.

Mysterious women, with their features hidden behind thin veils, tread the twisting clay streets. Donkey carts stirred up dust which went unnoticed by the press of humanity that meandered through crowded shops and bazaars.

A donkey-drawn cart, transporting Jillianna and three other women, wound its way through the narrow streets. Two guards marched along beside the cart, while it rolled almost unnoticed through the crowded streets.

Jillianna took little interest in her surroundings because she was frightened, as well as humiliated by the sheerness of the costume she wore. She had been oiled, perfumed, and dressed in layers of lavender gauze, which did little to hide her nakedness. She was thankful for the veil that covered her face and hid her shame.

She stared at the city that was sprawled over the hills and spread down to the water’s edge, trying not to dwell on what awaited her on the slave block. Her gaze shifted to the imposing Blue Mosque, which rose upward as if reaching for a piece of the blue sky. She caught a glimpse of a Gypsy in
colorful dress, who prodded his dancing bear into action for the crowd’s amusement. A dwarf was doing handsprings to draw attention to himself, while a blind beggar moved with amazing agility through the throng of humanity. A rug peddler displayed his handwoven rugs, while carts and peddlers moved slowly through the dusty streets.

Miraculously, Jillianna had not been ill-treated, either on the pirate ship or after the ship had docked. She had been taken by a stern-faced woman to a house near the Grand Bazaar, where she had been held captive for two weeks, seeing no one but the woman who brought her meals.

Then this morning two dark-skinned women had bathed and dressed her, taking great pains with her appearance. Jillianna had been frustrated because no one seemed to speak English, or else they had been instructed not to answer her questions. She had not known what was happening to her until she had been chained to the three other women in the donkey cart.

She glanced up at the burning sun overhead, gauging it to be near the noon hour. How strange it was that time had ceased to have any meaning for her. She had lived with fear for so long that she doubted anything would frighten her now—or so she thought.

The cart halted before enormous wooden gates, and one of the guards called out for admittance. As the gates swung open, Jillianna saw the colonnaded courtyard, which was flanked by several long chambers filled with women in chains. She did not have to be told that this was the slave market.

In shock, she watched the tall platform, where several black-skinned women were being led forward in chains. As they were poked and prodded and intimately examined, Jillianna felt their shame in the very depths of her heart, for she guessed it would soon be her turn to suffer the same indignities on the slave block.

Jillianna and her companions were herded into a long room by silent guards. A tall, slender man came forward,
slapping the handle of a whip against the palm of his hand, his eyes moving over the four women who had just arrived. With a curt nod, he dismissed the men who had delivered Jillianna, then looked at her with interest. The slender man motioned with the tip of his whip to indicate that Jillianna was to be unchained from her three companions.

She was led into a small private chamber, where golden chains were clamped on her wrists. She was then led to an alcove and instructed to sit on one of the satin cushions, while a tall Nubian fanned her with a peacock feather.

Jillianna felt sick inside. What was to become of her? She clasped her hands together tightly, wishing she could still their trembling. Today she would be paraded before gawking heathens and sold like an animal.

A frightened gasp escaped her lips when a shadow fell across her face. Glancing up, she saw a woman with cruel, black eyes standing before her. She looked down her slender nose at Jillianna.

“You are the American?” she inquired.

“No, not American.” A slight tremor shook Jillianna’s voice. “I am English by birth.”

“Ah, even better, madame. The Circassian girls go at a great price, but an English rose will bring even more.” She shook her head. “Of course, there is your unborn child to consider. It may be that we shall have to rid you of that nuisance. Then perhaps the sultan himself will have an interest in you.”

Jillianna cringed. “What do you mean? I will not give up my baby, and it will not be born for three more months.”

“Do not worry, Englishwoman. I have ways to rid you of the child with little danger to yourself—and no scarring.”

Tears swam in Jillianna’s eyes, and her hand went down to rest on her rounded stomach. “You cannot force me to give up my child.”

The woman’s eyes hardened. “If it comes to that, you will have no say in the matter. Come,” she said, pulling on Jillianna’s chains. “Captain Bijapur wants you put on the block
today. If we do not like the price that is offered for you, then he wants me to rid you of the baby.”

Jillianna felt faint, and she clutched at the wall for support. When the woman yanked hard on the chain, Jillianna was forced to follow her.

She prayed that someone would pay a high price for her today. Then perhaps she would be allowed to keep her baby. It did not matter what degradation she had to suffer, but her baby must live.

Jillianna stood in the shade of the pavilion, watching a young dusky-skinned girl being poked and examined by a man who was using the same attention to detail as a horse-trader. Jillianna only hoped she could bear the degrading exhibition as regally as this girl when it was her turn. It suddenly became important to her that she rise above her surroundings. She would not let these people break her, or to humble her in the dust.

When she was led forward, it was with great fanfare. She was placed on a golden platform with silken veils waving above her head. While she could not understand what was being said about her, the people pressed closer and the crowd swelled to a great number.

She raised her head as one veil after another was removed. When the last veil was removed, a murmur rippled through the crowd. When she was approached by several men, who in their turn examined her, she was forced to endure their greedy, probing hands. One man ran his hands over her breasts, exposing them to a leering crowd. She did not blink when her mouth was forced open and her teeth examined. But she almost cried out when the outer layer of clothing was stripped away and she stood on display, covered only in a thin veil that was draped about her shoulders.

The more indignities Jillianna was forced to endure, the higher she raised her head. The only outward sign of what she was feeling was the trembling of her lips and the single tear that made its way down her cheek. She tried to pray, but how could one pray under such shameful circumstances?

The Grand Vizier, Lord Simijin Ibrahim, motioned for the litter bearers to lower his sedan chair. He had come to the slave market today with the hope of finding a cook to replace the one who had died two days before. It was a tiresome business, but a good cook was valued, and he would not leave the matter to one of his servants.

The Grand Vizier, like all the other men present, stared at the golden-haired woman on the platform, who was beautiful even though she was heavy with child.

It was obvious that the woman was terrified. She appeared so delicate and vulnerable that he was angered by the men putting their rough hands on her. Though his taste did not run to light-skinned women, he could not condone the callous manner in which she was being treated.

He admired her when she proudly raised her head as the indignities were practiced on her body. One of the tormentors ripped the veil from the woman’s face, and a gasp of appreciation moved through the crowd. She was fair of face, and golden hair spilled down her back. Lord Simijin found his interest in her intensified.

He motioned to one of his guards, and the man stepped immediately to his master. Dropping a bag of gold into the guard’s hand, he nodded at the golden-haired woman. “Buy the female and cover her with this,” he ordered, shoving his own cloak at the man. “Bring her to me at once.”

Jillianna was surprised when a cloak was folded around her and gentle hands led her down from the platform. She did not stop to ponder her fate; she was too grateful that the loathsome exhibition was at last at an end.

The throng of people moved aside to allow her passage, and she realized that whoever had paid her purchase price must wield a great deal of power and respect. She had little time to reflect on her owner as she approached the litter.

The shimmering gold curtains were pulled aside. A jeweled hand reached out to assist her into the litter, and the strength
of the man astounded her. She stared into dark-brown eyes, and she shrank from him, suddenly averting her gaze, too afraid to meet those probing eyes.

Her body trembled uncontrollably. Ever since she had been taken prisoner, she had been under an illusion of unreality. Now it was difficult to believe that she had been bought and sold, the same as one would buy cattle.

Jillianna was startled when a deep voice spoke to her in perfect English. “I trust you have not been made to suffer unduly from your ordeal?”

She raised her eyes to the man, and found what appeared to be an expression of compassion on his face. But surely she was mistaken.

He was much younger than she had thought at first, but it was hard to tell much about him since he was in the shadows. She supposed one might call him handsome if one did not mind dark-complected men. His brow was high and noble; his expression was one of authority. His hair was black, as was his immaculately clipped beard. Yes, his features were arresting, and he was a man one would notice even in a crowded room.

“Who are you?” she asked, grateful that she could at least converse with the man.

“You may refer to me as Lord Simijin,” he answered, his eyes sweeping her face and taking in the bright tinge to her cheeks. He had never seen a woman with eyes the color of rare green turquoise, and he suddenly found her most intriguing. He was beginning to believe he had made a fair bargain today, for she was a rare beauty indeed.

Jillianna raised her head and gave him a scathing glance. “You may as well know right now that if you do anything to harm my baby, I shall find a way to escape from you, and you will have naught for the money you expended.”

His eyes moved to her swollen stomach. “Why should I want to harm your baby? As I see it, I made a good bargain today, buying two slaves for the price of one.”

A new and unsettling thought struck Jillianna. Dear
Lord, her baby would be born into slavery! No longer able to hold her head up with pride, she felt ready to collapse. “Why have you done this?” she asked, feeling defeated at last.

“If you are asking why I purchased you today, I am not certain myself. In a moment of weakness, I felt your suffering and wanted to alleviate it.”

She looked at the man in disbelief. “I cannot credit that was your reason.”

“Nonetheless, it is true.”

Jillianna studied him critically. Even though he was seated, it was easy to see that he was a tall man. She looked into his dark eyes, wishing she could read the truth in their depths.

“I am certain that you will not like me, my lord,” she said at last. “My husband often told me, before he died, that I was too fanciful and forward for a woman. And my husband’s mother found me not at all to her liking. On numerous occasions she accused me of being headstrong and ungrateful—which, if the truth were told—I am sure I am.”

Warm laughter came from the man as he observed the willfulness in Jillianna’s eyes. “I am an admirer of honesty, and I abhor deceitfulness of any kind; therefore, already I admire you. What is your name?”

“You may call me Mrs. Sinclair,” she said with a defiant spark in her eyes.

His lips curved into an almost smile. “I was referring to your first name.”

“J-Jillianna.”

“Well, Jillianna, I am beginning to realize how fortunate I am that chance allowed our paths to cross today.”

Feeling tense and uncertain, she moved back against the red satin cushions. The litter swayed from side to side, and she could hear the jingle of the golden bells that were attached to the curtains.

“My lord, I believe it is my duty to convince you that you will not have such a high opinion of me once you come to know me,” she stated almost airily. “I can assure you that my shortcomings are many.”

Again the Grand Vizier’s laughter was warm with delight. “Jillianna, Jillianna, you try so hard to make me dissatisfied with you, but with each try, you only intrigue me more.”

She felt a shiver of fear touch her spine. “Do not like me, my lord, for I have no intentions of liking you—not ever!”

He reached out and tilted her chin up, bringing it into the light so he could study her closely. “Forever is a long time, Jillianna.”

“I have an intolerable temper,” she told him, with a rush of feeling.

“I will allow you that since you are lovely beyond reason.” His voice softened. “Yes, I have made a good bargain in you, Jillianna.”

She resented being referred to as a bargain, but she was too weary to protest. She had lived with fear for so many weeks that it had somewhat dulled her senses. Now all she could think of was a place to lay her weary body. She huddled in the corner, too fatigued to wonder at the fate of herself or her unborn child. Until a few weeks ago, Turkey had been only a name of some obscure corner of the world—now it would surely be her home until the end of her days.

Jillianna fell forward when the litter was suddenly set down with a thud, but Simijin reached out to steady her. “It requires practice to ride the litter. You will learn in time,” he told her.