The Pirate Prince (7 page)

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Willow asked.

“I was thinking how much I would like to join you and warm your body with my hands, my mouth and my tongue. Your body was made for love. Think on that, beauty, for one day it will come to pass.”

The arousing vision of Willow’s body remained imprinted upon his brain as Dariq walked out of the cabin into the raging storm. Glancing up at the dark, angry sky, he saw no visible sign that the storm was abating, despite his optimistic words to Willow. The storm still had its teeth, and he would need all his skill to bring the ship safely to port. He had no idea how far off course the ship was being blown, and wouldn’t know until he could see the stars to take a reading.

Dariq saw that the line had been reattached and started across the deck, hand over hand, his body braced against the force of the wind. He reached the rail, where Mustafa and several crewmen were peering into the swirling water.

“Who went overboard?” Dariq asked.

“Tarrif,” Mustafa replied.

“Is he gone?”

“Aye. No man could survive long in that cauldron.”

“How great is the damage to the ship?”

“The mizzenmast is gone. Other than that, the damage appears minimal. The
Revenge
will ride out the storm. Where have you been? I saw you with the woman. What happened?”

“Lady Willow did something foolish, as usual,” Dariq shouted over the howling wind. “She left the cabin. Had I not seen her, she would have been swept overboard. But, fortunately, I caught her and hauled her to safety.”

“Foolish woman,” Mustafa growled.

“She will cause no more trouble, I have seen to that. I am confident the storm will blow itself out soon.”

Willow was finally warm again. Cocooned in the blanket, she felt nothing but pity for the men forced to endure the elements at the height of their fury. As often as she had sailed aboard her father’s ships, she had never experienced anything like this before.

Incredibly, her nausea abated and she managed to doze, lulled by the motion of the ship. She awoke to weak light filtering through the windows and the gentle rocking of the ship.

Was the storm finally over? Where was Dariq? Until he returned to release her, she was forced to remain bound to the bed. Squirming only pulled the ropes tighter.

Dariq returned to the cabin a short time later, feet dragging, shoulders bent and his face gray with exhaustion.

“Is it over?” Willow asked.

“Aye. Mustafa is assessing the damage.”

“Untie me.”

He slumped down on the bed and pulled off his boots. “L-l-let me remove my wet clothing first.”

Willow feared for his health when she realized he was shivering violently. “Hurry, before you catch your death. Wrap yourself in a blanket.”

Removing his clothing seemed almost too much effort for Dariq. His fingers fumbled with buttons and ties as he peeled away his wet shirt and trousers. Willow tried not to stare at him, but her weak will betrayed her. He was all virile male, from his handsome face to his large … My goodness, his male parts were beyond breathtaking. She’d seen pictures of Greek statues in books, but the dull flatness
of pictures held little resemblance to the magnificent planes and valleys of Dariq’s body.

She watched through lowered lashes as he untied the rope binding her and flopped down on the bed. Shock shuddered through her when he crawled beneath the covers and pulled her naked body against his.

“I need your warmth,” he said through chattering teeth. “Do not worry, beauty, I am too tired to do you any harm.”

Before Willow could gather her wits to voice a protest, Dariq was sound asleep. His body was frigid against hers, and she could almost forgive him for seeking her warmth, for she had been warm and cozy while he had been buffeted by cold winds and chilling rain. She attempted to ease out of bed.

The moment she moved, his arm tightened around her, holding her captive against his hard body. It took all her willpower to ignore the pleasant pressure of his chest against her back and his lower body spooned against hers. Unable to move, she gave in to exhaustion and slept.

Dariq awoke hours later, feeling refreshed and deliciously warm. The female body pressed intimately against his contributed to the heat slowly rising through his veins. How glorious to wake up with Safiye in his arms. Her warm, fragrant body stirred awake in his arms as he nuzzled her neck.

His cock had grown hard the instant he felt the softness of her backside pressed against his loins. Beautiful sloe-eyed, dark-haired Safiye knew exactly how to please him. His hand crept around to her breast, cupping it fully. He frowned and opened his eyes when he realized that, unlike the tender mound now nestled against his palm, Safiye’s breast usually overflowed his hand.

He recalled where he was and who he was with when he saw a wild tangle of golden tresses spilling over the pillow. He picked up a lock of her hair, holding it, feeling the softness of it, silk against his palm.

“Willow,” he whispered against her ear.

Willow burrowed against him but did not open her eyes. He wondered what she was thinking.

“Willow, are you awake? Turn around, beauty.”

Willow awoke with a jerk. “What are you doing?”

“Touching you. Do you like it?”

“No! Take your hands off me.”

Ignoring her, his fingers sought out her nipple and squeezed gently. “I was too exhausted last night to do more than fall into a dark void of sleep. But I am rested now, and since we are in bed naked, we should take advantage of the situation and begin to explore passion together.”

Dariq turned her onto her back. Willow struggled to escape; he placed a leg over hers to hold her in place.

“Shall we start by kissing?” Dariq asked. “We can progress from there at our leisure.”

“No, I—”

Her words gurgled to a halt as Dariq’s mouth claimed hers lips. The surge of primal heat shocked Willow’s body into stillness. He broke off the kiss and stared at her. The hot darkness of his gaze filled her with memories of how he’d looked naked. His face was now harsh with emotion, savage with demand. He was a beautiful animal, infinitely dangerous, infinitely sexual. He terrorized and fascinated her in equal parts.

Suddenly she became aware of his hands moving over her, touching her, finding places that made her jerk with awareness. She tensed, and then arched against the jolting heat of his caresses. The feeling was so intense, she was afraid to acknowledge its existence.

“Does that feel good?” Dariq whispered.

“No. I hate it.”

“Liar. Perhaps you’ll like this better.”

His hand moved slowly down her body, his callused palm creating a pleasant friction against her inflamed skin. Then she felt him reach between her thighs. She stiffened and gazed up at him. He wasn’t smiling. His silver eyes were rapt, a look of such intense ardor in them that she had to fight to catch her breath.

He found her lips; he tasted of untamed things, wicked things, and sin. She gasped against his mouth.

“Be easy,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”

His hand moved along the inside of her leg in a caressing stroke. She jerked in response. “What are you doing?”

“I did not want it to be here, but lust dictates the time and place, not I. I wanted silken sheets and perfumed oils, but you are here and I am here, so the time must be now.”

His lips moved downward, licking a little pool of sweat from the hollow of her throat. His mouth trekked lower, pausing to suckle a pert nipple before moving on. Willow tried to shift away from his questing mouth, but the weight of his big body held her securely in place. When his tongue dipped into her navel, her breath left her lungs in a loud whoosh.

“Dariq, please do not do this to me.”

He lifted his head and gave her a beguiling look filled with sensual promise. “You will leave this bed a virgin; that I promise. Now be quiet and let me kiss you.”

His promise gave her scant comfort. She scarcely had time to form a coherent thought when Dariq shoved her legs apart and settled between them. She felt him pressing her swollen folds open; lightning flashed through her when she realized where he intended to kiss her.

She rose up on her elbows. “You cannot do that! ’Tis wicked!”

“Who is to say what is wicked and what is not? I want to taste your sweet nectar.”

His tongue found her, stroking gently, touching something so sensitive that her thinking process closed down. Her elbows collapsed beneath her and she fell back on the mattress, staring blindly down at his dark head between her legs. Oh, God, he was
licking
her, in long, sinuous laps that made her body quiver with uncontrollable excitement.

Try though she might, Willow could not control the motion of her hips, rising upward to match her rhythm to his stroking tongue. She felt detached from her body, as if she were floating above it on a cloud of incredible pleasure. Her nerves were stretched taut; she floated higher, reaching for an unattainable peak dangling just out of her reach.

A heartbeat later, she felt his fingers open her and his tongue slide deep inside her. She lurched and cried out his name. His scent mingled with that of her own arousal, filling her senses. As if needing more of her, he hooked his arms under her thighs and draped her legs over his shoulders. His tongue was a slice of dark magic, licking, savoring, thrusting in and out of her tight passage, driving her toward a place she had never been before.

She arched up against his hot mouth, pushed by a wildness building inside her; the growing sounds of frenzy in her throat filled the silence of the cabin. A few moments more of this and she would shatter.

Then she did shatter, her throbbing body dissolving in a pool of pleasure so intense she feared she would drown in it.

She screamed Dariq’s name.

The sound brought Dariq surging upward to watch her. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “The loveliest sight in the world is a woman in the throes of ecstasy.”

“What happened?” Willow asked breathlessly.

“You experienced an orgasm. ’Tis the greatest pleasure you will ever know.”

“Did you…?”

“Nay.” He grasped her hand, placing it over his groin. “My cock is still rock hard.”

“Did you receive no pleasure?”

“My pleasure was watching yours.” His silver gaze glittered. “There is something you can do for me, however.” He curled her fingers around his manhood and slowly moved them up and down, teaching her a rhythm as old as mankind.

His flesh beneath her hand was hard, hot and slick. She didn’t want to touch him like this, but she couldn’t find the will to stop. She curled her fingers around him, moving them up and down the way he had shown her. She felt his body grow taut and his manhood grow even larger. He kept his need in check, but she could feel it, a power coiling out of him and surrounding her.

“Faster,” he panted. “I’m almost there.”

His head fell back, his teeth were bared, and he looked as if he were suffering intense pain. Suddenly he lurched upward, shouting his pleasure as he reached his peak. She stared at him. Their eyes locked as the tension drained from his face.

Willow scooted away, shocked at what had just taken place between them. She had never imagined, never dreamed such things were possible between a man and a woman.

And she was still technically a virgin
.

Chapter Six

Reaching for her temper to ease her conscience, Willow shoved Dariq so hard he fell out of bed. Legs sprawled, arms akimbo, he glared up at her. “Why did you do that?”

“You had no right to do what you did to me.”

Dariq picked himself up off the floor, not in the least embarrassed by his nudity. “Perhaps not, but you cannot deny that you enjoyed it.”

Her chin rose. “You forced me. I had no idea what you were doing. Never touch me like that again.”

As he stood there with his hands on sturdy hips, his legs spread wide, Willow watched in dismay as his manhood sprang up from the nest of dark hair at his groin. She swallowed hard and looked away.

“You have no say in the matter,” Dariq said. “You are my captive; I can use you in whatever manner I please.”

“I thought I was your guest.”

“Aye, a very special guest. I will personally see that you have everything your heart desires … including pleasure.” He placed a knee on the bed. “There is still time for another lesson.”

There came a knock on the door. Grateful for the reprieve, Willow heaved a sigh. Dariq reached for his trousers and pulled them on.

“Who is it?”

“Osman. I bring fresh water.”

Dariq sent Willow a look lush with sensual promise before bidding Osman to enter.

“Do you wish to shave, master?” Osman asked, looking anywhere but at the rumpled bed.

“Aye. Take the water into my sleeping quarters. Then fetch another pitcher for the lady.”

“He knows,” Willow hissed after Osman scooted out the door.

Dariq shrugged. “What does it matter? You are a woman, and women are made to give and receive pleasure. ’Tis a natural thing.”

“Not to me. I had a proper English upbringing. ’Tis sinful and improper for a woman to enjoy”—she blushed—“sex.”

“You said your mother is French. Are those her sentiments?”

“Mama marches to her own drummer. English society was too restrictive for her, but it suits me very well.”

A slow grin spread over Dariq’s face. “You liked what we did.”

Her face turned even redder. “I… I… You are too experienced for me. I did not know how to protect myself against your sensual nature.”

“Why would you want to?”

Osman’s arrival saved Willow from replying. The lad placed the pitcher of hot water on the washstand and left.

“I shall leave you to your ablutions while I perform mine,” Dariq said as he crossed the room to his sleeping chamber.

The moment the door closed behind Dariq, Willow climbed from bed, wrapped a sheet around herself and padded to the washstand. Taking up cloth and soap, She scrubbed all the places Dariq had touched her with his mouth, his hands and his tongue. Then she scrambled into her clothing, ready to face the day.

Dariq exited his small sleeping chamber a few minutes later, freshly shaved and dressed in loose trousers and shirt.

“If cook was able to fire up the brazier, you should have a hot meal soon. Try to entertain yourself while I inspect the ship for damage. If the
Revenge
fared well in the storm, we will continue our journey to Lipsi.”

Dariq was halfway out the door when Willow said, “I want to come with you. I shall go mad if I’m forced to remain cooped up another day.”

“You are to remain here,” Dariq answered. Then he was gone, leaving Willow fuming in impotent rage.

Dariq saw Mustafa standing near the broken mast and hurried over to join him.

“How long will it take to repair it?” Dariq asked.

“A day or two,” Mustafa replied. “Ripped sails and broken lines are being repaired as we speak.”

“I intend to take a reading tonight to see how far we were blown off course.”

“I did that last night while you slept. As luck would have it, we were blown toward Lipsi, not away from it.”

“That is good news indeed, Mustafa. What would I do without you?”

“That is something you need never worry about, Prince, for I shall always be at your side.”

Dariq clapped Mustafa on the back and went in search of something to eat.

* * *

Osman arrived a short while later with Willow’s breakfast. She was hungry and ate every bite. With nothing to do but ponder her dismal future, she prowled the narrow confines of the cabin. She longed to step outside into the sunshine, to raise her face to the rain-washed air and fill her lungs with it.

“I refuse to stay in here a moment longer,” she muttered to herself.

She found another woolen cap in Dariq’s chest, pulled it down over her ears and stuffed her hair underneath it. Then she opened the door and stepped outside. She lifted her face and sniffed appreciatively. The air smelled of sunshine and freshness.

The deck was a beehive of activity as men rushed about their duties. Willow saw men sewing ripped sails, working on the mainmast, and clearing debris from the deck. Gazing up, she noticed several bare-chested men repairing broken lines. Blushing, she started to turn away. Then she spied Dariq dangling precariously from a mast high above the deck. Had her life depended upon it, she could not have looked away.

He appeared to slip; she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. But the surefooted pirate did not fall. He merely grasped another line, steadied himself and continued his work.

Willow spied an overturned barrel, righted it and sat down so she could watch the activity without getting in the way. The soothing warmth of the sun after the intense drama of the storm made her drowsy, and she closed her eyes. Immediately her thoughts drifted to the wondrous, startling and embarrassing things Dariq had done to her.

The bubble burst when a pair of strong hands grasped
her shoulders and heaved her up until her feet were dangling inches above the deck. She looked straight into Dariq’s glittering eyes, and to her credit, she didn’t flinch.

“By the beard of Allah, don’t you ever do as you are told?”

“Sometimes I do, but only when it pleases me. Let me stay on deck, Dariq. I wasn’t bothering anyone, and no one paid me the slightest heed until you drew attention to me.”

Dariq plopped her down onto the barrel. “Sit there and don’t move or say anything. I don’t want you getting in the way. Is that clear?”

Willow smiled. She had won another concession, and each one was precious to her. “Perfectly.”

Willow remained on deck, watching the activity until late afternoon, when shadows began to gather and she grew tired of her hard perch. Then she quietly returned to her cabin, pleased with her afternoon of freedom.

Willow didn’t see Dariq again until late that night, when he tiptoed through the cabin to find his bed. He stopped abruptly beside her bed and stared down at her. Light from the guttering candle made the stark planes of his face appear dark and dangerous.

“You must be exhausted,” she murmured.

Dariq jumped away as if startled. “You should be asleep.”

“Was the ship badly damaged?”

“Nay. The repairs should take but a day or two.”

“Were we blown off course?”

“Mustafa said we were blown toward Lipsi, not away from it. We should see land in three days, barring another storm. It cannot be too soon for me. The
Revenge
has been at sea many months; the men miss their women.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. Wary of his intentions,
Willow scooted back. “I did not know your men had wives.” Somehow Willow couldn’t picture these fierce pirates with wives.

Dariq chuckled. “Most of the men keep concubines. A few have taken wives from among Lipsi’s Greek inhabitants.”

Willow could think of no response. “Good night, Prince Dariq.”

Dariq stared at Willow several long moments before rising. “You are right to dismiss me, sweet Willow. Your next lesson in passion should take place on satin sheets, in a room that will complement your beauty. Sleep well.”

Willow trembled at the thought of Dariq touching her again. How could she bear it?

Land appeared off the bow three days later, just as Dariq had predicted. The
Revenge
entered a deep-water bay and sailed gracefully toward a long stone jetty, where a crowd had gathered to await the return of their prince. The deck bustled with activity as sails were furled and lines trimmed. Through an expert feat of maneuvering, the
Revenge
slid gracefully up to the jetty and dropped anchor.

Willow spied two ships anchored in the bay a short distance from shore and assumed they were part of Dariq’s pirate fleet. A shout of welcome greeted Dariq when he appeared on deck.

Not long after the docking, Dariq returned to the cabin. “Welcome to Lipsi,” he said. “I hope you will be happy here while negotiations with Ibrahim are in progress.”

“I won’t be happy anywhere but home, but I will be glad to get off this ship.”

“I sent one of my men to my seraglio for an aba. As
soon as you are properly covered, I will escort you to my home.”

Willow balked. “None of the women I saw from the windows wore abas.”

“Women on Lipsi are free to do as they please, but you are not. Do not argue, Willow, for this is the way it must be.”

Willow hated the thought of wearing an aba but knew she could not avoid it. Dariq left, and a short time later Osman delivered the robe to her cabin, informing her that the prince awaited her on deck.

Willow donned the robe, groaning as its voluminous folds all but swallowed her. She would surely die of suffocation before she reached Dariq’s seraglio.

Willow exited the cabin, anxious to feel solid ground beneath her feet once again. Dariq was waiting for her. He grasped her elbow and escorted her down the gangplank onto the jetty. She wobbled slightly, then found her land legs as she proceeded with Dariq through the crowd of fierce-looking pirates, most of whom Dariq greeted by name.

An Arabian gelding was led to the end of the jetty. Dariq mounted, then nodded at Mustafa to hand Willow up. Moments later, she found herself seated across Dariq’s legs atop the prancing horse. They took off in a cloud of dust. Mustafa remained behind; she supposed to oversee the unloading of the cargo.

“ ’Tis but a short ride,” Dariq said as he reined the horse away from the cove. “Every comfort will be made available to you at my seraglio.”

As they rode through the lush green landscape, Willow saw signs of life beyond the pirate community clustered around the docking area. She noticed a young boy driving
a large herd of goats toward what looked like a village in the distance. That information could come in handy when she planned her escape.

She lost her train of thought when a glittering palace at the end of a long drive paved with seashells rose up before her. She suspected it was smaller than most palaces, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in elegance. Surrounded by swaying trees and blooming flowers, the palace resembled a perfect jewel in an opulent setting.

They rode into a tiled courtyard, so lovely it nearly took her breath away. At its center was a fountain in the shape of a dolphin that spouted water into a blue-green reflecting pool.

Dariq dismounted; he reached up and Willow slid down into his arms. A young man appeared to lead the horse off as Dariq ushered her into the dim coolness of the entranceway. A very tall, very intimidating guard greeted them. Dressed in balloon trousers, flowing shirt and boots, and armed with a scimitar that hung from his wide belt, he looked ready for battle. The large turban crowning his head made him seem even taller.

“Welcome home, Prince. All is in readiness for you.” Though the servant did not turn to look at the black-clad woman at Dariq’s side, his gaze kept straying to Willow.

“Lady Willow, this is Haroun, the captain of my personal guard. Haroun, this is Lady Willow. She will be my guest for an indefinite period of time. Please take her to the harem. Tell Ali Hara to take good care of her, and that I will explain her presence as soon as I have a spare moment. Baba will know what to do.”

He touched Willow’s black-clad shoulder. “Go with Haroun, Willow.”

Willow stiffened. “Who is Baba?”

“The mistress of my harem. You have naught to fear from her. She will see to your comfort.”

Dariq strode off down a white and green marble corridor; Willow had no choice but to follow the gigantic Turk. After several twists and turns, they arrived at a wide double door embellished with leaves and flowers of pure gold. Haroun’s knock was answered immediately by an ebony-faced man whose size exceeded that of Haroun.

“I bring you our master’s new concubine,” Haroun announced importantly. “You and Baba are to see to her comfort.”

“Welcome, lady. I am Ali Hara,” the eunuch said, bowing before Willow. “ ’Tis time my master brought another concubine to his harem. Safiye has been the sole occupant far too long. I know you do not understand our language, but nevertheless, I wish you welcome.”

Curving his fingers around her arm, he gently guided Willow inside the harem. When she heard the door close behind her, she panicked, shouting in English, “No! Let me out! I do not belong here.”

An elderly gray-haired woman wearing a caftan in muted colors came hurrying up to them. “Who is this woman, Ali Hara?”

“She is Prince Dariq’s new concubine.”

Willow sought words to convey her displeasure in Turkish. “No, I am most definitely not! Please, open the door and let me out.”

“You speak our language,” Baba said, clapping her hands in delight. “I wondered how we would communicate with you. How do you know our language, my lady?”

“Prince Dariq taught me.”

“Are you Frankish?”

“I am English,” Willow replied, choosing to claim her
English heritage rather than her French. “I am Lady Willow Foxburn.”

“You may remove your aba, my lady; you have no need of it here.”

“Gladly,” Willow said, whipping off the dark robe.

“Oh, my lady,” Baba gasped. “What monstrosity are you wearing? You should be dressed in the finest silks and satins.” Baba took Willow’s arm, gently leading her away from the door. “Come with me, my lady. I am Baba. I shall take good care of you for my master.”

Since she had no choice, Willow followed Baba, her gaze taking in every detail of the large, elegant chamber. It was like no room she had ever seen before. She walked upon green and white marble floors across a room whose walls were composed of colorful tiles. Willow was intrigued by the oval-shaped pool in the center of the room, and the statue of a naked young man pouring water from a pitcher into the pool. Several marble benches were scattered about the pool, but it was the low couches piled high with colorful pillows that caught Willow’s attention. The windows were open, admitting a soft sea breeze that fluttered the filmy curtains.