The Pirate Prince (5 page)

Willow woke before dawn. The candle had burned out, leaving the cabin in eerie predawn light. A tall, broad-shouldered figure rose from a chair. With the languid grace of a sleek tiger, Dariq stretched his lanky frame.

The shadows draping him parted as he stalked toward the bed. She watched him approach; there was a commanding power inherent in each long, prowling step.

His eyes were heavy-lidded and glinted silver beneath dark, sweeping brows. He looked pure Turk and terrifying, until she looked into his eyes. A hint of something tender lurked within those silver depths.

His lips were full and boldly sensual, and his luxuriant lashes softened his angular face. His lips were pursed now, as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. She caught her breath as he leaned over her and then quickly straightened. She heard him mutter something beneath his breath.

She stared up at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nay.” He stroked her cheek. “Your skin is as soft as rose petals.” He studied her in silent contemplation. “There is an old crone in Istanbul who is said to be able to repair a woman’s hymen and return her to a state of virginity.”

Willow blinked.

He sat on the edge of the bed. “I have been watching you all night. You have no idea how badly I want you.” His hand stroked downward, sweeping over her breasts. “I am going to kill Abdul for touching you. ’Tis a just punishment.”

She shuddered. “Isn’t that a bit drastic?”

“ ’Tis no more than he deserves.”

“Can you not show him mercy?”

“You ask mercy for a cur that nearly raped you?”

“Death seems so cruel.”

“Very well, for you I will be merciful. I will sever the hand that defiled you.”

“Cut off his hand?”

“Aye, and he will thank me for it.”

His hand paused near the top button of her shirt.

She grabbed his wrist. “Don’t.”

“I merely wish to see if your scratches are festering.”

“I can check them myself.”

His hand rose to her hair, stroking gently. He lifted a shiny strand and brought it to his mouth. The finest silk paled in comparison to the softness of Willow’s hair. He inhaled deeply of the scent of roses, then let the tress slip through his fingers.

“The scent of your innocence tempts me beyond endurance.”

He removed the sheet shielding her from him. If he couldn’t have her, he would at least look his fill. He had
spent the night in agony. He had never lacked willpower until he crossed paths with this green-eyed houri who stole his wits and made him forget his purpose.

“What are you doing?” Willow cried, tugging the sheet from his hand.

He dragged the linen to the foot of the bed. “I want to undress you, to fill my eyes with your beauty. I want to see for myself the treasure I am preserving. This has not been a pleasant night for me. You will have your revenge upon Abdul, but I cannot have what I desire.”

The dawn of a new day chased away the shadows, revealing Willow’s stunned expression. “Why do you desire me? I am sure you have seen women more beautiful than I.”

Dariq could not stifle his groan. It took little imagination to envision Willow’s nipple in his mouth, rising against the stroking of his tongue. He could even imagine the taste of her skin. Fighting the force of his need, he dragged his eyes from her body and his mind from the pit of lust.

“Only a fool or a eunuch would not want you. You do yourself no credit by denying your beauty. Englishmen must be blind if they do not see what I see.”

“Proper English gentlemen speak of beauty without offending a woman’s sensibilities. They write poetry to her eyebrows, or the sweetness of her voice.”

Dariq laughed. “Pray Allah I will never become a gentleman.” His voice took on a husky quality. “I could make love to you without breaching your maidenhead. I could teach you things that Ibrahim would thank me for. The body is a sensitive instrument made to give and receive pleasure. We could spend hours, nay, days in bed and you would still go to Ibrahim a virgin, technically speaking.”

Willow shrank away from him. “You speak of sinful
things I do not understand. Pray do not touch me, sir. Prince or nay, no one has a right to my body except the man I marry, and then for the purpose of procreation only.”

Dariq gave a bark of laughter. “Infidels have strange customs. They view their bodies as something shameful. I can teach you that bodies are instruments of pleasure as well as vessels for procreation. This I vow, sweet Willow. Before you leave me, you will be well versed in the many ways to give and receive pleasure, and you will enjoy every moment of the learning process.”

“Go away! I refuse to listen to you. ’Tis Satan talking.”

“You think me possessed by the devil?”

“You
are
the devil.”

“You know naught of devils, beauty. Ibrahim is the devil, not I. I do not envy you his attention.”

“Why give me to the devil if you feel that way?”

Dariq looked away. “There is no alternative. I am not the coldhearted bastard you think I am. With Kamel to look after you, you will survive. The one I hope to barter you for needs my protection more than you do.”

“Who is Kamel?”

“The keeper of the harem. He is the most powerful eunuch within the seraglio. He will teach you the ways of the harem and protect you. Your survival depends on how well you please Ibrahim. And you must try to make no enemies in the harem. I will explain all that you do not understand before you leave Lipsi.”

Willow scooted out of bed and backed away from him. “I understand more than you think. Your culture imprisons women behind walls and makes them into playthings. I want no part of the sinful pleasures you described. I will not become a willing slave.”

Dariq sighed. “You will do what you must once you realize
that your life depends upon Ibrahim’s whims; unfortunately, his whims can be capricious.”

Willow searched his face. “What did Ibrahim do to you? Why are you a pirate instead of a pampered prince living in a palace?”

His expression turned thoughtful. At length he said, “That, my beauty, is a story for another time. Perhaps ’tis better left untold.”

He sent her a cocky grin. “One day soon, you will beg me to pleasure you.”

“Not in this life,” Willow sniffed. “I do not intend to remain your prisoner. I am nothing if not resourceful.”

A smile stretched his sensual lips. “I look forward to your resourcefulness, beauty. Meanwhile, after last night’s attack upon your person, I must insist that you remain inside your cabin unless escorted by either myself or Mustafa. You are to trust no one else.”

“After my experience last night, I have no desire to venture outside my cabin alone.”

“Then we are in agreement. As much as I would like to stay here and spar with you, I must see to Abdul’s punishment.”

The cabin seemed much larger after Dariq left. His commanding presence filled the space with animal magnetism and made the cabin seem smaller.

But Willow was no weak-livered female without a will of her own or a brain. Though she might wonder about and secretly long for those sinful things Dariq had mentioned, she had the will to resist his seduction and the gumption to escape when the opportunity presented itself.

She had always believed she would marry a proper English gentleman, raise the children of that union and follow the strict rules of English society.

Although that life sounded dull, Willow knew it was
her destiny. A sudden thought occurred. Was boredom the reason her unconventional French mother had fled England after nearly fifteen years of marriage to a staid English marquis?

Willow loved her father and her life in England, but during the time she had spent with her mother, she’d begun to believe that Frenchwomen were much freer than their English counterparts. Monique had begged Willow to remain with her, but Willow felt more connected with England than with France and had refused.

Willow realized that her engagement to Percy would not result in marriage even if she was lucky enough to return to England, for the scandal of her unfortunate experience would turn him away from her. If she wished to wed, her father would be forced to buy her a husband. France was beginning to look like a better choice once she escaped, for Willow knew that her mother would welcome her unconditionally.

Piercing screams interrupted Willow’s reverie, and she knew immediately that Abdul’s punishment had begun. Had Dariq severed his hand as he’d threatened? Or had he relented and shown mercy? The screams continued too long for Willow’s peace of mind, then stopped abruptly.

Some time later Dariq returned to the cabin. His face was grim, his mood tense and unreadable.

“ ’Tis done,” he said tonelessly.

“What did you do to him?”

Dariq grimaced. “I do not enjoy maiming a man who needs his limbs to survive. In the heat of anger, I did consider taking his hand for touching you, but in a saner moment I decided a whipping would suffice. Abdul will recover to serve me again, but he will think twice before breaking my rules.”

“I am glad you did not maim him,” Willow said. “You are not as brutal as you pretend.”

Dariq’s dark eyebrows shot upward. “I am not a cruel man by nature. Events outside my control have forced me to make difficult choices. I have done things contrary to my nature in order to survive.”

“Is holding me against my will against your nature?”

“Aye. Women are made to be cherished and loved. Abusing women is against Allah’s teaching as well as God’s. I adore women. Giving them pleasure is one of my favorite pastimes. One day you will experience my passion and judge for yourself. My plans for your future are necessary to save someone I love and honor above all others.”

“Tell me about her. Is she very beautiful?”

“To me, she is.”

“Is she in danger?”

“I have every reason to believe she is.”

“From Ibrahim?”

“Aye. He is furious because I allow few of his ships to reach their destinations. He has threatened my loved one if I do not give myself up to him.”

“I am sorry that I cannot help you. I do not know what happened between you and your brother, but I am not the solution to the problem.”

Dariq reached her in two long strides and pulled her against him. “You are wrong, sweet Willow. You are exactly what I need to barter for my moth… loved one.”

Then he kissed her.

Chapter Four

Dariq slid his hands onto Willow’s cheeks and pulled her to meet his mouth. Her hands went to his chest, intending to push him away, but she hesitated when she felt the strong beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin through the fine linen of his shirt. The sensation was so thrilling, she felt her will drain away. His lips brushed hers once, twice, then claimed them with a fierceness that stirred her senses.

When his tongue searched for hers, she let him take it. As her hands slid over the contours of his muscles, the sharp intake of his breath returned her scattered wits. She gasped and pushed away from him, flinging her hand over her mouth. He searched her face, his expression inscrutable.

“You caught me off guard,” she said. “I did not want this to happen. Besides,” she added, “I was quite unaffected by your kiss.”

Dariq chuckled. “Tell that to someone who will believe you. Mark my words, beauty, one day we will fully explore our passion in ways you cannot begin to imagine.”

He gave her a slow, burning look, then took his leave.

* * *

Mustafa was waiting for Dariq when he arrived on deck.

“How does the lady fare after Abdul’s attack? Did the cur hurt her?”

“She bears a few scratches, but no serious harm was done.”

“It would be wise to keep her confined to her cabin until she is safely ensconced in your harem. Your crewmen are too woman-hungry to be trusted.”

“Though it may seem the wisest course, I cannot do that to Willow. She would rebel.”

Mustafa scowled. “She must accept her lot if she is to survive in Ibrahim’s harem. Foreign women are given too much freedom.”

“I agree, but as my guest, Willow will be allowed a certain degree of freedom aboard ship. She has agreed not to walk out on deck until either you or I can accompany her. Meanwhile, I intend to teach her Turkish.”

Mustafa eyed him narrowly. “You are becoming too involved. I do not like it. You must remember why she is aboard your ship.”

“Do not preach to me, my friend. I know where my duty lies. My mother is not safe in Ibrahim’s seraglio.” He clasped Mustafa’s shoulder. “Come, Mustafa, let us see to the running of the ship.”

Willow prowled the cabin for lack of anything better to do. Though she’d found several books in Dariq’s cabin, they were written in Turkish. She hoped Dariq had meant what he’d said about teaching her his language, for she’d die of boredom if she didn’t at least have that to look forward to.

Dariq did indeed keep his word. He appeared in the cabin after the noon meal to begin Willow’s lessons …and
every day after that. The language was difficult, but Dariq was an excellent teacher. Within two weeks they were conversing in short sentences. With nothing else to do but study, Willow learned quickly.

To Willow’s relief, Dariq made no attempt to seduce her during those teaching sessions. The last time he had kissed her, she had been tempted to the point of allowing whatever he wanted to do to her or with her. Though she knew he wouldn’t take her virginity, he had hinted at other ways of finding pleasure; pleasure of which she knew nothing.

One stifling afternoon as she waited for Dariq to arrive for her lesson, she heard a commotion outside the cabin. Pounding feet, loud shouting and the metallic clanging of weapons drifted to her through the closed door. She wanted to rush out to see what was happening, but hesitated when she recalled her promise to Dariq. But, oh, it was so hard to remain inside while something terrible might be happening, something that could affect her future.

Willow couldn’t resist cracking open the door and peeking through the opening. The cabin was situated beneath the quarterdeck, making it difficult to see anything but a small section of the deck. Disappointed, Willow stepped away from the door seconds before it banged open. Dariq loomed large and frightening in the doorway. He was fully armed for battle, his countenance fierce.

“What is it? What is happening?” Willow cried.

“We spotted one of Ibrahim’s merchant ships. She’s riding low in the water, a clear indication that her hold is full. I intend to take it. You are to remain in the cabin until the battle is over.”

Willow blanched. “Why must you attack the ship? There are bound to be deaths.”

Dariq shrugged. “There always are. I know the ship and
its captain. Hamid is Ibrahim’s man; he won’t give up his ship or cargo without a fight. Sighting the
Mahmed
is a stroke of good luck. Once the ship is relieved of her cargo, I shall send her on her way with word of your capture and my terms for your return.”

“What if you lose?”

Dariq gave her an incredulous look. “We will not lose. My men and I have never lost a battle and don’t intend to now.”

“Perhaps I can be of some help. I can tend the wounded.”

“Nay! You are to remain out of sight. I will return when it is safe.” His face settled into harsh lines. “Obey me in this, Lady Willow.” He strode out of the cabin, giving Willow no time to voice a protest.

The tumult on deck intensified. Willow heard the roar of cannon and clapped her hands over her ears. Several rounds were fired before the big guns fell ominously silent. Minutes later she felt a tremendous bump and staggered against the bulkhead. Rushing to the window, she saw that the two ships were being hauled together with grappling hooks, and that the
Mahmed’s
crewmen were preparing to meet the pirates pouring across the boarding planks and swinging between the ships on ropes.

Dariq was one of the first men to board the
Mahmed
. His scimitar slashed wildly as he was immediately engaged in hand-to-hand combat. The battle was brutal, for the
Mahmed’s
crewmen were exceptionally fierce and determined.

Dariq felled one man, but not before suffering a slash high on his thigh. Another man came up behind him and would have sent Dariq to eternity if Mustafa hadn’t beheaded him with one swift stroke of his scimitar. Dariq
barely had time to smile his thanks before two burly Turks attacked him and Mustafa.

Elsewhere the battle raged as men struggled for their lives, the deck running red with blood. Dariq and Mustafa fought on, quickly finding other prey. Both men were covered with blood, some from minor wounds of their own and the rest from their foes.

Dariq cursed each time he saw one of his men fall and renewed his effort to fight his way to the captain. Once the captain was killed or captured, Dariq believed his crewmen would lose heart and surrender. Dariq saw Captain Hamid standing on the quarterdeck and slowly fought his way to him; as always, Mustafa protected Dariq’s back.

Dariq fought with easy grace, wielding both scimitar and knife with equal dexterity. When he reached the quarterdeck, he lunged at the captain.

“Surrender your ship!” Dariq shouted above the din of battle.

“Never!” Captain Hamid yelled back.

“Surrender before you are left with no men to sail your ship back to Istanbul.”

Hamid gave Dariq a blank look. “You intend to let me keep my ship? Why? I know how you work. Not only do you steal cargo, but you add all captured ships to your pirate fleet.”

“Not this time,” Dariq promised. “If you surrender, your cargo will be confiscated, but your ship will be left intact to return to Istanbul.”

“If I surrender my ship, do you promise not to slaughter my men?”

“I thought I made myself clear. You will need crewmen to sail your ship to Istanbul so that you can deliver a message from me to my brother.”

Captain Hamid looked at his bloody scimitar and then at the dead and wounded littering the deck, his expression bleak when he noted there were more pirates standing than his crewmen.

“Your answer, Captain,” Dariq growled, gripping his scimitar in a threatening manner. “You know I can slay you in combat with little effort.”

Hamid wiped blood-tinged sweat from his forehead and glared at Dariq. Dariq could tell that the captain was still in the throes of blood lust, and that he was weighing his thirst to engage in battle against Dariq’s superior strength. Finally Hamid lowered his head and let his sword fall to the deck.

“You win, Prince. I surrender my ship to you. I hope your black soul burns in eternal hell.”

“I won’t argue that point with you, Hamid, for hell is likely where I will end up. Tell your men you have surrendered the ship.”

Hamid ordered his men to lay down their weapons, shouting that he had surrendered his ship to the pirate prince. The sound of weapons falling to the deck sounded like thunder, and the battle was disengaged. A triumphant roar filled the air as Dariq’s men claimed victory.

Mustafa herded the
Mahmed’s
captain and crew to one end of the deck while Dariq climbed into the hold to inspect the cargo. He found a veritable treasure trove of spices, silk and other valuable commodities. He returned from the hold smiling, and immediately set his men to work transferring the cargo to the
Revenge’s
empty hold.

Dariq approached the sullen captain. “While my men are transferring your cargo, I will tell you what I wish you to say to Ibrahim when you return to Istanbul. We will speak privately in your cabin.”

Dariq motioned Hamid to lead the way. He ached from more than a dozen wounds but brushed the pain aside in order to conclude his business. When they entered the captain’s cabin, which had suffered only slight damage from one of the
Revenge’s
cannonballs, Dariq came right to the point.

“Your ship suffered minimal damage, Captain Hamid, so you should have no difficulty continuing your journey to Istanbul.”

“Without my cargo,” Hamid groused.

Dariq shrugged, and then winced when a particularly deep cut above his eyebrow caused a twinge of pain. “Sit down, Captain, and listen closely while I give you the message you are to convey to Ibrahim. You are to say that I have his ‘treasure,’ and that she is everything and more than he could wish for. Tell him I will return her to him—untouched, of course—in exchange for my mother.”

Hamid frowned. “I have heard that Ibrahim’s long-anticipated treasure is a woman but did not credit it. Is that all?”

“Nay, there is more. Tell Ibrahim that I want Kamel to act as contact between us, and that arrangements for the exchange will be made through him. And tell him his ‘treasure’ is more beautiful than the moon and stars, well worth the price he paid.”

“Very well, I will tell the sultan everything you have said. He will not like it, but I will tell him.”

“There is one more thing. Wait here. I will return shortly with something for you to give Ibrahim to prove my claim.”

Dariq left the cabin and strode swiftly across the deck. Grabbing a dangling line, he swung across the divide to the
Revenge
. Once aboard his ship, he went directly to his cabin. He found Willow pacing the room, her face white,
her eyes glazed with fear. She halted in mid step, then raced toward him, gasping when she saw his bloody clothing.

“You’re hurt! Do you have a surgeon aboard? Tell me what to do.”

“Easy,” Dariq said, “ ’tis just blood. Some of it’s mine and some not. I have suffered worse than this in my life.”

“Is it over? The fighting sounded fierce.”

“ ’Tis over,” Dariq replied. “My men are transferring the
Mahmed’s
cargo to the
Revenge
. Then she’ll be free to proceed.”

Willow nearly collapsed in relief, glad that the bloodshed had ended. Never would she understand men and their thirst for violence. She glanced up at Dariq to tell him what she thought of him and the violent life he led, and nearly stopped breathing when she saw that he held a knife in his hand.

She recoiled, raising her hand to protect herself when he raised the blade toward her. “Nay! Why do you want to kill me?”

Dariq staggered backward. “You think I meant to kill you? There are many things I wish to do to you, but killing is not one of them.”

“You raised your knife to me.”

“I merely want a lock of your hair to send to Ibrahim. Once he sees it, he will believe that you are my captive. The good captain has agreed to carry my terms for your ransom to my brother. Now hold still while I cut off a hank of your hair.”

Willow stood still as a statue while Dariq lifted a long strand of hair and sawed off a portion from the end. Then he rummaged in his desk until he found a narrow leather thong to tie around the lock of hair. Next he produced a cloth pouch, placed Willow’s hair in it and pulled
the strings tight. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door.

“Wait!”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“What about your wounds? Who will see to them?”

“Are you worried about me, beauty?”

“I… I, no, of course not. No more than I would worry about any wounded human being.”

“Fear not, I will survive. Mustafa knows more about healing than any surgeon. He will see to my wounds.”

Despite the throbbing of multiple cuts and bruises, Dariq couldn’t help smiling. No matter how much his captive denied it, she was interested enough in him to care about his well-being. He could scarcely wait for the day he would teach her about pleasure, and ways to gain it without breaching her maidenhead.

Willow would be far from innocent when she went to Ibrahim. He counted the ways he could take her—with his mouth, his tongue, his hands—and she would enjoy them all. He would even teach her to give him pleasure.

His mind turned away from erotic thoughts to the business at hand as he returned to the
Mahmed
, where Mustafa was awaiting further instructions.

“Send our wounded back to the
Revenge
,” he ordered Mustafa. “After the cargo is transferred, have the men gather up the sailors’ weapons. I will join you aboard the
Revenge
as soon as my business with Captain Hamid is concluded.”

Captain Hamid waited nearby for Dariq, his expression churlish. “What besides your message do you want me to give to the sultan?”

Dariq pulled open the pouch, removed the lock of hair and dangled it before Hamid. The captain’s eyes widened
as he gazed at the golden strands in Dariq’s hands.