The Pirate Prince (8 page)

Judging from the size of the harem, Willow assumed that Dariq intended to fill it with women. Her attention sharpened when Baba opened a door and ushered her into a sleeping chamber.

“I hope you will be comfortable here, my lady. You may rest while preparations are being made for your bath.” She inspected Willow with a critical eye. “You must be properly groomed and clothed before you go to Prince Dariq. Ali Hara will bring you food and something refreshing to drink.”

Willow didn’t bother to correct Baba’s assumption that
she was here to pleasure Dariq, for she supposed Dariq would inform Ali Hara of his plans for her in his own good time.

Once Willow was alone, she made a thorough perusal of her sleeping quarters. The room was small but elegantly appointed with a silk-covered bed, table, dressing table, chest and several cushioned chairs. The walls were hung with silk in muted shades of peach and turquoise, and a thick carpet covered the marble floor. The window looked out over a small garden, exquisite with blooming roses and other exotic flowers. It was like another world.

Ali Hara arrived with a tray of fresh fruit, freshly baked flatbread and a pot of honey, a bowl of hot soup with pieces of lamb floating in it, and a drink that blended several fruits. Everything looked delicious after the ship’s fare she’d become accustomed to.

Willow picked up a piece of flatbread, spread it with honey and bit into it. It was so good she devoured it in minutes. Then she lifted the bowl of soup and sipped the hot liquid, relishing the spicy taste.

She was just starting on her second piece of bread when the door burst open, admitting a whirlwind of vivid color and grating sound. Her visitor was a woman, a very beautiful olive-skinned, dark-haired, sloe-eyed woman with generous curves. Her beaded vest of scarlet brocade and transparent skirts consisting of several layers of filmy chiffon left little to the imagination.

“Ali Hara said Prince Dariq had purchased a new concubine for his harem.” Hands on ample hips, the woman glared at Willow. “Why are you wearing men’s clothing? You look ridiculous.” She searched Willow’s face. “You are too pallid, too unremarkable for Prince Dariq’s taste. He likes women with lush curves and golden skin. Do not
expect to take my place in his bed, for I will not allow it. He has had no other woman since he purchased me at a slave market.”

“You must be Safiye,” Willow said. “Please speak slowly, for your language is new to me. Dariq told me about you. I am Lady Willow. You have naught to fear from me; I will never become Dariq’s lover.”

Safiye’s eyes narrowed. “I am no fool, lady. My lord would not bring you here if he did not want you in his bed. Just remember, I am the favorite, and you must answer to my authority. Once I bear Lord Dariq a child, he will make me his wife and you will be naught but a slave.”

“I am naught to him now. Believe me, Safiye, I am not here by choice. I was captured by pirates and sold to—”

“Bah. Whatever he paid for you was too much. Has Lord Dariq bedded you yet?” Willow remained mute. “Never say you are still untouched.”

Willow blushed. While technically she was a virgin, she couldn’t claim to be untouched.

“Hah! ’Tis just as I thought,” Safiye spat. “He will tire of you once the novelty wears off.” She preened for Willow’s benefit. “Prince Dariq will send for me tonight, not you, and I will please him as I always do.”

“You are welcome to him,” Willow snapped. She was growing weary of Safiye’s boasting.

Her eyes spitting dark fire, Safiye looked as if she intended to launch herself at Willow. Willow prepared for the attack that never came, stopped abruptly by Ali Hara, who had just entered the chamber.

“What are you doing here, Safiye?”

Safiye’s cat-eyes glittered with barely concealed malice. “I was merely welcoming our lord’s newest concubine. A pallid little thing, is she not? And whatever is she
wearing? I cannot imagine what Prince Dariq sees in her. The only thing appealing about her is her hair.”

“You may leave,” Ali Hara said. “The master wants Lady Willow properly groomed, and there is a great deal to do before she is ready to go to him.”

“It will take more than grooming to make her presentable,” Safiye sniffed. Turning on her heel, she stomped off.

“Follow me, lady,” Ali Hara said to Willow. “Baba awaits you in the
hammam
.”

Willow knew the
hammam
was the bath and went forth eagerly, for she was in desperate need of a good wash. She expected to be taken to the pool in the main chamber but instead was led to a smaller room at the end of a short hallway. Baba, wearing a white robe belted at the waist, awaited her there.

The
hammam
held a large sunken tub, a marble bench, ewers filled with water and a table laden with vials and clay pots. Willow headed for the tub.

“Nay, my lady, you are not yet ready to immerse yourself in the bath.”

“What else is there?”

“Remove your clothing and lie down on the bench. All traces of body hair must be plucked and scraped from your skin before we can proceed to the next step.”

“Is that necessary? It is simply not done in my country.”

“You are in Prince Dariq’s harem, lady. He is a Turk and follows the teachings of Allah. You cannot go to him unclean.”

“I will not go to him at all,” Willow protested. “I do not belong here.”

“You would be much happier if you accepted your fate,” Baba scolded. “ ’Tis a good life, one you should embrace. You will be pampered and showered with gifts if
you please our master. Since he is away at sea for long periods of time, you will not be overly taxed by his attentions. Please lie down so that I may attend you, my lady.”

Willow didn’t argue with the old woman; it would be futile to do so. Obviously, Dariq hadn’t told Baba that she wasn’t intended to be his concubine. Disgruntled, she stripped and stretched out on the marble bench.

The first thing Baba did was dip her fingers into a clay pot and spread a pink cream over Willow’s groin area, her legs, her arms, and all the places that hair appeared on her body. Baba busied herself elsewhere for at least a half hour before returning with a ewer of water. Using a rough cloth, Baba proceeded to scrub the cream from Willow’s body, taking away hair along with the cream and leaving Willow’s body as smooth as silk. Then she bade Willow to sit up.

From another pot Baba scooped a double handful of soft soap and rubbed it over Willow’s body. Then she took a flat tool and scraped away dirt and soap until Willow’s skin felt cleaner than it had in weeks.

“Now you may get into the bath, my lady.”

Willow rose and stepped into the pool, surprised to find the water warm and soothing. While she soaked the soap from her body, Baba applied soap to her hair and gave it a thorough scrubbing. Then she rinsed it with clean water from a ewer. It was so wonderfully refreshing that Willow hated to leave the
hammam
when Baba told her to do so.

Exclaiming over the color of her hair, Baba dried Willow with a large linen drying cloth. When Willow’s skin was glowing, Baba told her to lie on her stomach on the bench. Willow had no idea what was coming next until Baba poured a stream of fragrant oil on her back and buttocks. She rested her head on her crossed arms as strong
hands began massaging oil into her shoulders, back and buttocks, and down her legs to her feet. It felt wonderfully decadent and sinful.

“Turn over, lady.”

Willow stiffened and looked over her shoulder, stunned to see Ali Hara’s hands on her. She groped for the drying cloth but it had been taken away.

“Where is Baba?”

“She will return when I am finished.”

“No! You should not… it isn’t right. You’re a man.”

Ali Hara gave an impatient snort. “I am a eunuch, lady, not a man in the true sense of the word. Turn around so that I may finish.”

Blushing bright red, Willow turned onto her back and closed her eyes. In her world, if a man looked like a man, he was a man. But the bored look on Ali Hara’s face confirmed what he had just said to her. Her naked body meant naught to him. She closed her eyes and tried not to picture Ali Hara as a man.

Ali Hara lifted his hands a moment, and when they returned they somehow felt rougher, callused even, but so wonderfully relaxing. Then those talented hands sought out a place so intimate that Willow’s eyes flew open and she reared up, shouting, “Stop it, Ali Hara!”

She blinked, and her mouth dropped open when she saw Dariq leaning over her, his hand slick with oil. He wore a simple white robe, baggy trousers, and a white turban that covered his black hair.

“How did you get here? Where is Ali Hara? Where is Baba?”

“I dismissed them. As for how I got here, I go where I please, when I please.” He pointed to a partition of latticework across the room. “I watched you at your bath from there. Lie back, I am not finished yet.”

“You most certainly are finished,” Willow huffed. She lurched off the bench. “Where are my clothes?”

“Baba is fetching them for you.”

She covered her breasts with her hands and gave him her back. “Go away! I am naked.”

He laughed. “So you are.” His silver gaze traveled the length of her elegant back and dimpled buttocks. “You please me very much, beauty. Were it possible, I would keep you for myself.”

He stalked toward her. She retreated. He reached for her, pulling her hard against him.

“Kiss me, beauty.”

She turned her head away, though she knew she fought a losing battle. There was no way she could stop Dariq from doing as he pleased. He turned her head toward him and kissed her, using his skillful mouth and tongue to work their erotic magic on her. His kiss went on and on, until her legs turned to jelly and her will to resist eroded. She felt a melting inside her and whether by choice or need, leaned into his kiss, molding herself against his hard body. Then she felt herself floating as he scooped her into his arms.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my chamber. ’Tis time for another lesson in passion.”

“No! You cannot. Have you forgotten why I am here?”

“I won’t ruin you for Ibrahim, if that’s what you are worried about. Your virginity is too important to me. There are other things we can do to give us pleasure.”

“Stop! I am naked! You cannot carry me off like this.”

“A small problem easily solved. Ali Hara!” The eunuch appeared instantly. “Bring a caftan for Lady Willow.”

Ali Hara disappeared and reappeared a few moments later with a rose-colored caftan trimmed in gold tassels
draped over his arm. Dariq set Willow on her feet and slipped the silken robe over her head.

Suddenly a whirlwind flew into the room. “My dear lord, I have been waiting for you!” Safiye cried as she flung herself into Dariq’s arms.

In her eagerness to reach Dariq, Safiye shoved Willow so hard that she fell backward, landing on her rump. Then Safiye treated her to a display of passion so sexually charged it made Willow’s face flame bright red. Ali Hara rushed to help her to her feet. Refusing to watch Safiye make love to Dariq where he stood, Willow fled from the room.

Chapter Seven

Dariq uttered a curse as he peeled Safiye off of him. She was clinging to him so tightly, he could feel her distended nipples and the moist heat of her woman’s mound pressing against him.

“Why do you not touch me, master?” Safiye asked sulkily. She grasped his hand and brought it between her thighs. “Can you feel how wet I am for you through my skirts? Must I wait until tonight for your attention?”

From the corner of his eye, Dariq saw Willow flee into her chamber. He supposed he owed Safiye an explanation for Willow’s presence in his seraglio and wondered how much he should reveal. Safiye was merely his concubine, not his wife, and he didn’t need to explain anything to her. He had bought Safiye several months before, after his seraglio had been completed, and until he’d encountered Willow he had been content. She had served his needs well.

Safiye’s sultry gaze turned petulant when Dariq remained silent. “Never say you intend to take the pale foreigner
to your bed tonight. How can you abide her? She is ugly, and I am willing to wager she is ignorant in the art of pleasing a man.”

A wry grin tipped up the corners of Dariq’s mouth. Willow’s sexual knowledge was indeed limited, but he intended to remedy that situation. Her sexual education would strain his control, but he felt confident he could contain his lust.

He gazed down at Safiye, suddenly aware of her possessiveness. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. The gleam in her dark eyes was almost predatory as she fondled his cock. Being a virile man, his body reacted noticeably to her intimate handling.

Rising up on her toes, she whispered against his mouth, “Take me now, master. Right here, where everyone can see I am yours and you are mine.”

Dariq knew exactly what Safiye intended. She wanted to make Willow jealous. Safiye had never had reason to be jealous before and couldn’t bear the thought that Willow might take her place in Dariq’s bed. Would Safiye hurt Willow if she thought she was being replaced in Dariq’s affections? He intended to quash any such thoughts here and now.

He gave Safiye a little shake. “Safiye, listen to me. Willow is no threat to you. She is merely staying in my harem until Ibrahim agrees to the trade I’ve proposed. I plan to exchange Lady Willow for my mother.”

Safiye snorted in disbelief. “I hardly think Ibrahim will want her after you take her virginity.”

“Willow is still innocent, and I intend for her to remain that way. If you have jealous thoughts about Willow, forget them.”

Safiye looked perplexed. “How can that be? You were
together aboard your ship, and you have been without a woman a long time.”

“I am not a lad who cannot control himself. Willow is too important to me as a hostage. As you say, Ibrahim will not agree to the exchange if I take her virginity.”

Safiye gave him a flirtatious smile. “You must be in great need, master. Let me ease you.”

She knelt before him and searched for his cock through the opening of his trousers. Dariq pulled her hands away and lifted her to her feet.

“Not now, my passionate little dove. I have too much to do.”

“Do you swear you won’t take Lady Willow to your bed?”

Dariq frowned. “I make no promises, Safiye, for what I do is none of your concern.”

Safiye’s full lips turned down. “Will you send for me tonight?”

“Perhaps,” Dariq muttered distractedly. He was thinking not of Safiye but of Willow, whose supple body he longed to explore upon silken sheets. She consumed all his thoughts. He desired something he could not have, and it was driving him mad.

Dariq walked away from Safiye, leaving the fiery concubine fuming in impotent rage. Safiye recognized obsession when she saw it, and Lord Dariq was obviously obsessed with the pale Englishwoman. Though Safiye had no idea how long his self-control with Willow would prevail, she knew with a certainty that one day it would snap, and probably sooner rather than later.

If Willow was still innocent, which Safiye seriously doubted, she wouldn’t be for much longer. Safiye made a silent vow to prevent the inevitable. Whatever it took,
Safiye was determined to preserve her position as the prince’s favorite.

Willow kept to her chamber the rest of the day. Baba brought her clothing similar to Safiye’s, consisting of a colorful beaded vest that barely covered her breasts, a skirt of several layers of gauzy material, soft slippers and a golden girdle studded with jewels. Since she had nothing else to wear, Willow removed her caftan and donned the clothing, even though she considered it far too revealing.

As evening approached, Willow became aware that she was hungry. She wondered when someone would bring her supper. Eventually Ali Hara appeared without her dinner, carrying a colorful garment over his arm.

“Am I to go to bed hungry?” Willow asked.

“Nay, lady. Prince Dariq commands your presence in his chamber.”

Willow went still. “What does he want?”

“He did not confide in me, lady.” He handed her a hooded caftan of varying shades of green. “Put this on and follow me.”

Willow wondered what would happen if she refused. She eyed Ali Hara warily. If his size was any indication of his strength, he would have no problem forcing her to obey Dariq’s summons.

What did the pirate want? Willow wondered. Didn’t he realize that paying attention to her and not Safiye would antagonize his concubine? Why did he not summon his concubine to his chamber? As Safiye pointed out, Dariq had been many months without a woman and should be eager to bed his lovely concubine.

Sighing with resignation, Willow pulled on the caftan and followed Ali Hara. To her chagrin, Safiye was waiting
near the door, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. Boldly Safiye placed herself in Willow’s path.

“What did you do to him?” she hissed.

Willow sent her a startled look. “If you mean Prince Dariq, I did naught.”

“Prince Dariq sent for you, did he not? He wants to bed you. He lied to me. He said he did not bring you here for his pleasure, and that you were to go untouched to Ibrahim.”

“Prince Dariq spoke the truth,” Willow contended.

Safiye gave a snort of disbelief. “Then why did he summon you tonight?”

“I have no idea,” Willow said truthfully.

“Move aside, Safiye,” Ali Hara commanded. “My master awaits Lady Willow, and he is not a patient man.”

Safiye moved away, but not before snarling one last insult at Willow. “I know the prince well. He is a lusty man. He will have you if it pleases him.”

Willow sincerely hoped not, but she trusted Dariq no more than she did Safiye. Not for the first time, she wondered about the loved one Dariq had left behind in Istanbul. He or she must mean a great deal to him.

Ali Hara led her down a long green and white marble corridor, turned a corner into another corridor, and stopped before a solid brass door polished to a high sheen. A guard opened the door. Ali Hara gently pushed her forward. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, all she saw was his retreating back. Willow wanted to flee with him but was frozen in place by the opulent chamber that looked like something right out of a fantasy.

She stood in the open doorway, gawking like a fool at silk-covered walls, slender columns of creamy white and gold marble, and filmy curtains floating around a bed
piled high with colorful cushions. Candlelight bathed the chamber in varying shades of gold.

At first glance Willow thought the chamber was unoccupied. Then she saw him, lounging upon a pile of cushions scattered on the floor around a low table. He lifted his hand, and with a lazy motion, beckoned her forward.

Willow hesitated. She wanted to turn and run, but the sound of the heavy door closing behind her and her own curiosity carried her forward. Her steps may have dragged a little as she approached Dariq, but her courage did not waver.

“What do you want? Why did you send for me?”

“I wish to share my meal with you,” Dariq purred in a voice so blatantly sexual that her steps faltered. “Are you afraid of me, beauty?”

“Nay. Should I be?” Her quivering voice belied her words.

Uncoiling his body in one graceful motion, Dariq rose. Willow stared at him. He was every woman’s dream. Dressed in unadorned white, he wore his shirt open nearly to his navel and his baggy trousers thrust into black leather boots. His black hair was loose and rather long, just brushing his shoulders. The predatory gleam in his silver eyes could have melted stone, and Willow was far more malleable than stone.

Reaching out, Dariq whipped off her caftan and tossed it aside. His breath seized as he stared at her. His gaze roamed over her thinly clad body, from the top of her glorious head to her feet shod in soft slippers. Her hair rippled down her shoulders like a golden cloak; he had seen nothing to compare with it in all his travels. Her legs, visible through the sheer material of her skirts, were long and shapely. Her breasts were barely contained beneath
her short vest, and the jewel-studded girdle that draped her hips accentuated the smallness of her waist and the graceful curves flowing beneath the diaphanous fabric of her skirts. She was breathtakingly exquisite; perfect in every way.

Grasping her elbow, he led her over to the cushions and eased her down. Then he sat down beside her and clapped his hands.

The door swung open. A servant entered and bowed.

“You may bring our food now, Haroun,” Dariq ordered. The servant bowed again and departed.

Dariq smiled when he saw Willow sitting stiffly beside him, her face wearing a wary expression. “Relax, beauty, I merely wish to share a meal with you.” The husky sound of his voice coated her with warmth.

“Why me when you have Safiye?”

Dariq frowned. Why indeed? “Had I wanted Safiye, I would have sent for her.”

A discreet knock and then the door opened. Haroun entered carrying an enormous tray. Another servant bearing gold-trimmed plates, cups and eating utensils entered behind him. Haroun eased the tray down on the table, placed the plates and eating utensils in precise order and quietly departed.

Dariq uncovered dishes of steaming rice, a savory dish of lamb and vegetables, fish, bowls of soup fragrant with mint, rounds of flatbread and mounds of butter. Accompanying the meal were a pot of tea and a bowl of fresh peaches, dates and figs. Dariq filled a plate for Willow and one for himself.

When Willow made no move to eat, Dariq picked up a succulent piece of lamb with his fingers and held it to her lips. He chuckled when he heard Willow’s stomach growl.

“Open your mouth, beauty. You will find this food far superior to any you had aboard the
Revenge
. Superior to anything you had in England, too, I’ll wager.”

He nodded his approval when Willow opened her mouth. He popped in the piece of lamb and watched her chew, purposely licking his fingers as she chewed. She must have found the food to her liking, for she picked up her fork and began to eat. Satisfied that Willow did not mean to starve herself, Dariq gave his own plate the attention it deserved. When they had both eaten their fill, Dariq picked up a peach, peeled it and offered Willow a slice.

She opened her mouth to accept his offering, but instead of letting go of the peach, he let Willow’s mouth close over his fingers. She started violently when he slowly moved his fingers in and out of her mouth before releasing the fruit. A trickle of juice slid down her chin. Before she could wipe it away, Dariq leaned over and licked her chin and then her lips with his tongue.

“Delicious,” he murmured. “Would you like another slice?”

He took her silence for assent, though she appeared somewhat wary. He pared another piece of peach and held it to her mouth. As he’d done before, he thrust two fingers into her mouth with the peach.

He did not even try to suppress his groan as Willow’s tongue flicked over his fingers, licking the peach juice from them. The sensation was so erotic, he feared his cock would burst. Needing to defuse the volatile situation before he lost control, he removed his fingers and popped a slice of peach into his own mouth.

After they finished the peach, he clapped his hands. The door opened on silent hinges. “Take this away,” he
ordered, gesturing to the remains of their meal. “See that we are not disturbed by anyone.” His glittering gaze remained on Willow the entire time he spoke.

“I should return to the harem,” Willow said. She started to rise.

Dariq dragged her back down. “No, beauty, you cannot leave yet. I have been thinking about you in this setting all day—nay, since I first clapped eyes on you.”

Willow scooted away from him. “Why, when I cannot give you what you need? Why did you not summon Safiye? She is eager to… to pleasure you. You have been at sea a long time and need the comfort of a willing woman.”

Dariq himself wondered why he hadn’t summoned Safiye. Safiye could give him everything he needed from a woman, but it wasn’t Safiye he wanted. Willow intrigued him beyond endurance. It wasn’t just her beauty, which was considerable, or her extraordinary golden hair and lovely green eyes. Nay, it was something less easily defined, something difficult to explain.

Her spirit was indomitable, her nature unflaggingly optimistic despite the situation in which she had been thrust. He knew she hoped to escape her fate, but what she didn’t know was that escape was impossible. Once she left his protection, she would belong to Ibrahim, body and soul.

That thought brought a frown to Dariq’s handsome face and a pain in the vicinity of his heart. Ibrahim was not known for his gentle nature. Most of his concubines feared him, and with good reason. His brother was a difficult man, one who had his concubines beaten with the bastinado when they displeased him. Dariq couldn’t bear the thought of any part of Willow’s silken flesh being bruised.

“Why are you frowning?” Willow asked.

“I just had an unpleasant thought.” He pushed those thoughts aside. It would be a long time before Ahmed returned with Ibrahim’s reply to his terms for the trade. “But ’tis gone now; you have my undivided attention.”

He reached for her. She flinched away, but the thought that she couldn’t escape him made him smile. He wanted to give her pleasure even if he had to deny his own. He had no idea why he was willing to put himself through that kind of torture, except that he adored the look on Willow’s face when she peaked. He had seen it once and wanted to see it again … and yet again. Her pleasure was his pleasure.