Captive of the Harem

She saw Suleiman Bakhar waiting for her in the courtyard, and her heart caught for one terrifying moment and then raced on. He was truly one of the most impressive men she had ever seen, and he looked…wild, an untamed creature and dangerous. She should be afraid of him, and yet…there was something that drew her to him, some thin, invisible thread that seemed to bind her to him as surely as any cruel chains they might put upon her.

She lifted her head as she reached him, eyes bright and challenging. ‘Am I to be chained?’

Suleiman’s gaze narrowed. ‘Should I chain you, Eleanor? Are you planning to try and escape?’

She had hoped there might be an opportunity to slip away from him and now realised that she had been foolish to put him on his guard. ‘What would you do—if you were in my place?’

‘I should kill my captors and run away,’ Suleiman replied truthfully. He laughed deep in his throat, a soft husky sound that Eleanor discovered was very attractive. ‘Foolish woman. I have never put chains on anything—beast or man—let alone a woman with skin as soft as yours.’

‘What has the softness of my skin to do with it?’ She gave him a haughty look.

‘Chains would mark you and mean you were worth less,’ he replied, his expression inscrutable.

‘Of course—I should have known.’ For a moment she had thought he was being compassionate. He was a barbarian and a savage—she should not expect anything from such a man. ‘How am I supposed to ride in this ridiculous thing?’

Suleiman looked at the cloak that enfolded her. ‘You could not ride like that. You will be carried in a litter. It is the usual mode of travel for a woman of class here. I did not know that you could ride.’

‘I would prefer to ride.’

‘Then perhaps I shall allow it one day,’ Suleiman replied. ‘However, today you will be carried in the litter. Come, I am ready to leave.’

Eleanor looked round for Roxana, but she had slipped away as soon as she had delivered her charge. Besides, there was nothing the Morisco woman could have done to help her.

‘Are you afraid?’ Suleiman asked as he saw her hesitation. ‘You have no need to be. You are being taken to my apartments for the moment. I have decided I shall let the older women of my father’s household school you in the manners you need before you are fit to grace the harem of any man.’

At that Eleanor’s head came up, eyes flashing with anger. ‘Afraid—of you? Why should I be? You are merely a man…’

‘Truly, this is so. Why should you be afraid of me? You have no need to be—if you please me.’ Suleiman’s smile flickered deep in the silver depths of his strange eyes. His remarks had had their desired effect. Her pride had leant her courage. ‘Your escort awaits you, lady.’

She felt a tingle at the base of her spine. He had addressed her as a woman of quality at last, and he was behaving as though she were his equal instead of a slave he had bought. Perhaps she might yet persuade him it would be better to ransom her.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ she responded graciously. If he thought she needed to be taught manners, she would show him how an English gentlewoman behaved. ‘Will you see that Roxana is rewarded for her kindness to me, please?’

‘It has already been done.’ Suleiman smiled. What a proud beauty she was! Already he was beginning to regret that his father had need of a gift for the Sultan. ‘We should leave before the sun begins to set. It can come suddenly in this land, and my father’s house is outside the city…at times there are bands of lawless bandits who roam the countryside looking for unwary travellers to rob. We have guards to protect us, but I would not have you frightened by these rogues on your first night in your new country.’

‘You are considerate, my lord,’ she said and inclined her head. ‘But this is not my country—it is merely a place I must live in until I can regain my freedom.’

Suleiman’s gaze narrowed, but he refused to be drawn. She was like the hawks that fluttered desperately against the bars of their cage. When she had learned to be obedient to her master’s voice, she would learn that she could fly high and free once more—provided that she returned to his hand when called.

Had he really made up his mind to keep her? It was a risk, for the Sultan might learn of Suleiman’s treasure and be angry because it had not been given to him. If Suleiman kept this woman for himself, he must find another treasure for the Sultan—but not a woman. It would be an insult to give their lord an inferior treasure. Something else rare and precious must be found to take her place…

He was lost in his thoughts, and turned carelessly aside to speak to one of his men as they emerged into a street that was already beginning to fill with the shadows of night. Until one of his men gave a shout of alarm, he did not realise that Eleanor had dropped her casacche and started to run. What did she think she was doing? Foolish, foolish woman! Had she no idea of the dangers of this city? Alone and at night she would disappear into some stinking hovel and never be seen again.

‘Eleanor! Come here at once!’

He began to run as he shouted, sprinting after her down the narrow alley. She was fast, but she could not outrun him and it was not long before he caught up to her. He grabbed her arm, but she struggled and wrenched away again; he lunged at her and brought her down into the dust of the street. She scratched his face, fighting and kicking as she fought to throw him off, but he held her as easily as he would a child, laughing down at her as she raged in frustration.

‘You would make a fine Janissary, my little bird—but do not make me hurt you more than I already have.’ His eyes gleamed with triumph as he gazed down at her and Eleanor experienced the oddest feeling deep down inside her—it was as if a tide of molten heat had begun to rise up in her. ‘Come, defy me no more.’

‘You have not hurt me!’ she said defiantly, but it was a lie because the fall had hurt her shoulder and his weight had crushed the breath from her. ‘I hate you! You are a barbarian and a savage!’

Yet even as she lay beneath him and gazed into his fierce eyes, she felt the pull of his power and charm. He was not what she had named him, for if he had been she would have been treated more harshly. Her breath caught in her throat and she experienced a strange longing—a desire to be held in his arms and comforted.

Comforted by this man! What foolish idea was that? Her wits must be addled!

‘It was your own fault,’ he said as he pulled her roughly to her feet. ‘You were foolish to try and run from me—there are worse things than being in a harem. You would have been taken a dozen times before this night was out and worse…’

‘Nothing could be worse!’ She flung the words at him. ‘You will never take me willingly. No man will take me willingly…I shall fight to my last breath.’

‘Then you will suffer,’ Suleiman replied, his features harsh and unforgiving. ‘If I wanted you…and I do not think you worth the bother…I would soon have you eating from my hand like a dove.’

‘Hawks kill doves for their food,’ Eleanor retorted. ‘And you are a hawk—wild and dangerous.’

Suleiman’s anger faded as swiftly as it had flared. He considered her words a compliment rather than the insult she had intended and was amused. He smiled and took her arm, leading her firmly back to where the litter and horses were waiting.

‘I’m not going to wear that thing,’ Eleanor said as she saw that one of his men had picked up her cloak. ‘And I am not going to be carried in that stupid litter.’

‘Then you will ride with me,’ Suleiman said, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. ‘And you have only yourself to blame for this, Eleanor.’

He picked her up and flung her over his saddle so that she lay face down, then mounted swiftly before she could attempt to wriggle free. His knees were pressed against her, the reins firmly gripped above her head and she knew she could not free herself.

‘You devil! Let me down at once! You cannot treat me like this! I am a lady…if you know what that means.’

‘Be careful, Eleanor,’ he warned, but there was laughter in his voice. ‘I may have to beat you if you continue to flaunt my orders. My men are watching and I cannot allow a woman to dictate to me. You will lie there quietly until I decide to let you up—or you will be sorry.’

As he kicked his horse into a sudden canter at the same time as he spoke these words, Eleanor was unable to do anything. She was fuming, but she was also very uncomfortable. How dare he do this to her? She was indignant.

‘You are a brute,’ she muttered into the blanket that lay beneath his leather saddle. ‘I hate you. You are just like those murdering pirates who killed my father. I would have killed them if I could—I will kill you if I get the chance!’

‘Speak louder, Eleanor,’ Suleiman said. ‘I cannot hear you.’

She could hear the mockery in his voice and knew that he was laughing at her. He did not believe she could touch him—because he was too arrogant and sure of himself. He was accustomed to being obeyed instantly, and thought himself all-powerful. Well, just let him wait! One of these days she would make him sorry!

They had left the city walls behind before Suleiman stopped and lifted her into a sitting position, his arm about her waist pressing her to him, as much his prisoner as before. She had seen nothing but a blur of stone walls and dirt streets, keeping her eyes closed most of the time because she had been afraid of falling if she did not concentrate.

‘Is that better?’ he asked softly against her hair. ‘I am sorry, little bird. That was unkind of me—but you made me angry. Besides, I had to make sure you could not get away from me. Constantinople is a dangerous place for a woman—especially one as lovely as you.’

‘I know…Roxana told me.’ Eleanor was leaning back against him; she had been feeling dizzy when he raised her, but now the unpleasant sensation was beginning to fade and she was oddly comforted by the feel of his strong arms about her as they rode. ‘I would not have run…but I was afraid.’

‘You told me you were not.’

‘How could I not be?’ Eleanor turned her head to glance at his face. ‘You are going to give me to the Sultan. I cannot bear to be the concubine of a man I do not know—a much older man…’

‘Would you prefer to be my concubine?’ Suleiman whispered huskily against her hair, his voice so soft and low that she was not sure she had heard him correctly.

‘I—I do not—’

What she was about to say was lost, for one of Suleiman’s men gave a warning shout and, looking over his shoulder, Suleiman cursed. A small group of black robed men were riding fast towards them.