Bertrice Small

by Unconquered

  Her nipples grew high and tight with longing, and she gasped when his mouth closed over first one and then the other. She held his head close to her breasts. Slowly he lifted himself so as to face her, and as their eyes met, hers filled with tears. It was so unfair that he loved her like this, and that she must leave him.

  He kissed her belly, and said, “I have tasted of your milk, my darling, now will I taste of your honey,” and his dark head dipped down to that secret grotto of love. Tauntingly his tongue flicked at the sweet flesh, and she moaned low, a sound that came from deep, deep back in her throat. Her body began to shudder.

  “I … I want to love you … that way, too,” she managed to gasp, but he didn’t stop. “Please, Mirza!” He stopped and swung his body sideways so she might taste of him as he had tasted of her.

  She took him gently into her mouth, her naughty tongue teasing the crimson head of his manhood. He sobbed, and his mouth reciprocated her loving until she thought she would go mad with the pleasure. Playfully, she nipped at him.

  “Oh, bitch, to do this to me now!” he groaned. Then, disengaging her grip on him, he pulled her beneath him and thrust into her, pushing his shaft as deep as he could. She thrust herself up to meet him, pulling his head to hers, kissing him hungrily, tasting herself in his mouth. Together they reached the final peak, and then together they tumbled whirling through timelessness until reaching earth once more to cling together in a last sweet embrace before sleep overtook them.

  When Miranda awoke he was gone. Slowly she rose, donned her caftan, and made her way back across the harem garden to her room in the women’s quarters. Turkhan awaited her, and the two women embraced in sisterly fashion.

  “Will he see me before I go?” Miranda said. “I cannot leave without seeing him once more.”

  “He will see you.”

  “You love him, Turkhan.” It was a statement, and the reply was not surprising.

  “Yes, I love him, and in his fashion he cares for me. I have been with him for fifteen years, since I was fourteen. Others come and go, but I always remain, as I will remain to comfort him after you have gone.”

  “He is fortunate to have you,” replied Miranda sincerely.

  Turkhan smiled, and put an arm around the younger woman. “Miranda, little sister, how very Western you are! I do not mind that my lord Mirza loves you, for you have made him happy, and we all knew that you would have to leave us one day. When you have gone we will have the pleasurable task of soothing our lord’s pain. The other butterflies of his harem believe they will succeed, and he will kindly tell them they have, but I know better. You will always be with him, hidden in a dark, secret place deep within his heart. I cannot change that, nor would I. Every experience we face in this life is for a purpose, even the bittersweet ones.”

  “I might return,” Miranda said softly.

  “No,” Turkhan shook her lovely head. “You care for my lord Mirza, but your heart is with the man to whom you return. Even if he casts you off, you will remain near him as I remain near Mirza Khan—because you love him, as I love my lord.”

  “Yes,” came the reply. “I love Jared, and no matter what happens I will want to be near him.”

  “I understand,” said Turkhan, and then she said in a lighter tone, “Let us go to the baths. Your people will be here soon.”

  Miranda luxuriated in the lovely harem baths a last time. After a massage, she dozed and was awakened by an elderly woman slave offering sweet, boiling Turkish coffee. Drinking the coffee quickly, she was wrapped in a large, fluffy towel and left the baths. Miranda opened the door to her room and entered it. She heard a gasp, and then a joyful cry.

  “Milady! It really is you!”

  She swallowed. The transition had begun. “Yes, Perky. It really is me.”

  Perkins burst into tears. “Oh, milady, we was so heartbroken. Milord was wild with grief. He was drunk for close to two months.”

  “Was he?” Miranda smiled, quite pleased. “What happened after he sobered up, Perky?”

  Perkins’ plain, girlish face became tight with disapproval. “It ain’t my place to criticize, m’lady, but after he sobered up he became the biggest rake in London. Thank God you weren’t really dead, and you’re coming home. I shudder to think of that Lady de Winter being little Tom’s mama!”

  “What?!” Miranda felt her temper rising. He certainly hadn’t put himself out with a long mourning period, had he?

  “Oh m’lady, forgive me for upsetting you! I’ll tell you true. The gossip was that he was planning to offer for her, but he didn’t. They say all he wanted was a mama for little Master Tom, for the child’s been with Lady Swynford ever since you left. She wouldn’t let him go from the hall, but kept him with Master Neddie. Now, however, she’s breeding again. And besides, m’lord wants the boy. He loves the child so much. I never heard that he loved Lady de Winter, m’lady. There’s never been the slightest gossip of that! I swear it!”

  Miranda put out a gentle hand and patted Perkins’ cheek. “It’s all right, Perky. I think it’s better that I know exactly what has been happening. Come now, help me dress.” She needed to change the subject, and grasped the opportunity. “Have fashions changed very much in the year I’ve been away?”

  “Oh yes, m’lady! The bodices are tighter, the skirts a little fuller, and the hems come just to the ankle. Wait till you see the cabin full of lovely gowns his lordship’s brought for you.”

  Very slowly, Miranda began to lose her color. She swayed and Perky reached out to steady her.

  “He’s here?!” Miranda whispered. “Is Lord Dunham aboard the ship?”

  “Why, yes, of course,” Perky replied.

  Miranda grew silent. So there was to be little time to plan what she would say to Jared, little time to prepare herself? Miranda dropped her towel, and Perky, blushing, handed her a pair of fine muslin drawers and white silk stockings with embroidered gold clocks on them. There were braided gold silk garters to hold the stockings up. “Oh, this is new!” Miranda noted as her maid dropped a quilted white silk petticoat with its own attached bodice over her head. The bodice was sleeveless, and had wide straps.

  The dress Perky had brought her was of coral and apricot muslin in alternating stripes. The scooped neckline was low, the sleeves short puffs, the bodice indeed quite tight. The skirt belled out gently over her petticoat, ending just at the ankle. Miranda slipped into a pair of black slippers.

  “The dress is a bit tight in the bodice, m’lady, but I can let it out later. I’d have thought you’d be a bit less in the bustline what with not nursing all these months.”

  Miranda nodded, sat, and watched quietly as her maid parted her hair in the center. Perky braided it and then arranged the braid in a round knot at the back of her head. “Lord Dunham sent your jewel case along, m’lady,” said Perky, and she opened the top tray in the red Morocco leather case.

  Miranda first removed a strand of pearls on a gold chain with a diamond clasp, and fastened them about her neck. Then she took the matching pearl-and-diamond earrings, and secured them in her ears. The fashionable London woman in the mirror stared at her coolly, and Miranda knew it was time to go. She stood. “Take the case, Perky, and go to the barge. I must bid Prince Mirza farewell and thank him for his hospitality.”

  She took a final look around the small bedroom with its yellow- and white-tiled corner stove, its built-in single bed, and the small dressing table with the Venetian glass mirror. She had been happy here, and though her heart longed for Jared, she was afraid of what awaited her and reluctant to leave the safety of Mirza Khan’s sure love. “You must never show fear,” he had said. “Never apologize, even to yourself.”

  “Come, Perky,” she said brightly, and the two women left the room. The harem women were waiting in the salon. The little English maid stood back shyly, her eyes wide at the sight of the beautiful women in lavish, colorful costumes. Perky did not understand any language other than English, and could not understand what was said, but
she knew that the women were sad to see her mistress leave.

  Having bid a warm good-bye to the women of the harem, Miranda turned back to Guzel and Safiye, and asked, “Will you show my maidservant the way to the quay?”

  Miranda then spoke to Perkins. “I will be with you shortly. These ladies will show you to the barge.”

  Perky curtseyed. “Very good, m’lady,” she said, and followed Safiye and Guzel from the room.

  “He awaits you in the main salon,” said Turkhan. Giving Miranda a farewell kiss on the cheek, she finished, “I will take good care of him.”

  “I know you will. I only hope he knows how fortunate he is to have you,” said Miranda sincerely. “Men can sometimes be such damned fools!”

  “In his own way he appreciates me,” was the contended reply. “Go now, Miranda. May you find true happiness again with your husband.”

  Miranda walked to the main salon in the public rooms of the small palace. He was waiting, dressed as he had been the first time she had seen him in St. Petersburg, in white trousers, a white Persian coat, and a small white turban.

  “We end as we began,” he said quietly, taking her hand and kissing it in the Western fashion. “How beautiful you look, Lady Dunham, the picture of the fashionable European woman!”

  “I love you,” she said softly. “Not in the way in which I love Jared, but I do love you, Mirza. I didn’t know a woman could care so deeply, in such different ways, for two men at the same time.”

  “I wondered if you would ever understand that,” he smiled, holding out his arms to her.

  With a little cry she buried herself in his embrace. “Mirza, I am so confused!”

  “No, Miranda, you are not really confused, you are simply reluctant to exchange my love for the uncertainty of what awaits you. I will not deny my love for you or my need for you, but neither will I accept second best, for I am a proud man. Your love for Jared Dunham is far greater than your love for me could ever be. Return to him, little puritan, and fight for him!

  “I don’t give a damn what polite society in England says. When a woman is forced, the shame is not on her but on the man who forces her. Your Jared has had more than his share of ladies, I will wager, and if he is the man you claim then he will not hold you responsible for something you could not help. Remember what I have told you. Never apologize!”

  “And what shall I tell him of you, Mirza Eddin Khan? You did not force me.”

  “What do you want to tell him, Miranda?”

  She moved out of his embrace just enough to look up into his handsome face. His deep-blue eyes challenged her. “I think, Mirza Khan, that there are certain things in this world a wife must keep to herself,” she answered, and her sea-green eyes were laughing.

  “I have taught you well, oh daughter of Eve,” he said softly.

  “I have been an apt pupil, my dearest friend,”

  He smiled his oddly roguish smile, and then pulling her back into his embrace, he kissed her deeply and tenderly. She melted back against him, tasting him one last time, enjoying the tickly softness of his mustache one last time, feeling so loved that when he finally released her she lay in his arms for a moment or two more, her eyes closed. Finally she sighed deeply, regretfully, and, opening her eyes, stepped away from him. Neither of them said anything, the time for words being long past. He took her hand in his, and they walked from the salon across the portico, across the green lawn, and down to the marble quay.

  Perky, who was on the barge approaching Dream Witch, saw them and caught her breath in surprise. When she had been told her mistress was staying at the palace of a cousin of the sultan, she had envisioned a kindly, white-haired patriarch, and she assumed that Lord Dunham had, too. This very tall, handsome gentleman was not at all what she had expected. “Coo,” she whispered to herself, “ain’t he gorgeous!” They held hands, too. Well, it wasn’t her business, and heaven only knew Lord Dunham has chased every lightskirt in London, and lifted them, too! These last months hadn’t been easy on any of them.

  The couple walked out onto the quay. The barge would return for Miranda in a very few minutes.

  “Allah go with you, my darling. I shall think of you each day for the rest of my life and count the time well spent.”

  “I will not forget you, Mirza. I only wish I were as deserving of your love as I should be. Turkhan loves you, you know. She would make you a very good wife.”

  He laughed. Catching her hand, he kissed the palm in a teasing gesture. “Farewell, my little puritan! When you write me that you have made your own happy ending, then I will consider your advice!” He helped her down into the barge.

  “Consider my advice well, my proud prince,” she teased. “Have you not taught me that true love is a rare thing, to be prized above all else?”

  “I bow before your wisdom, Miranda,” he answered. Though he laughed, his eyes were sad, so sad she almost cried with his pain.

  “Farewell, Mirza Eddin Khan,” she said softly, “and thank you, my love.”

  For the briefest moment he gazed raptly at her. Then speaking curtly to his boatman, he gave orders and the barge bobbed out onto the gentle evening seas. She watched the shore recede, looking for a last time at the lovely little palace where she had been so happy, so safe.

  From the building on the hill emerged a regal female figure in flowing ruby-red robes. The woman made her way to Mirza Khan’s side and stood silently next to him. Wordlessly he put his arm about her, and Miranda smiled, pleased. Turkhan will surely win him over, she thought.

  Jared Dunham stood on the deck of Dream Witch, watching as the barge moved slowly across the water toward him. Thoughtfully he lowered his spyglass and stared at the man in white who was standing on the quay. The prince was certainly not what he’d expected. Jared had seen clearly the way Miranda had looked at him and also the way the prince had looked at Miranda. Jared felt extremely uncomfortable, as if he’d been spying on a private meeting. Cold anger welled up in him. She was his wife! Why should he feel like an outsider? Jared had been advised by many people in England that Miranda would need him desperately, that she would need all the love and understanding he could give her. But the elegant woman walking hand in hand with the handsome prince did not look in need of anything at all.

  Suddenly Jared felt that he was being watched, and he put the spyglass to his eye once more. Prince Mirza stood staring directly at him and his look carried this message: Take care of her, for I want her too! Jared was astounded. It was as if the man had spoken clearly in his ear. With an angry oath, he slammed the spyglass shut and stormed from the deck.

  Perky had arrived some time before, with the jewel case, and was below. Ephraim Snow, alone on deck, awaited Miranda. As she was hoisted up in the bosun’s chair, the old captain was suddenly overcome. Helping her from the chair with trembling fingers, he sobbed, “Oh, my lady!”

  Miranda reached over and touched his cheek, knowing that to kiss him would be wrong.

  “Hello, Eph,” she said softly. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

  The sound of Miranda’s voice made her presence a firm reality, and helped the old man to recover. Wiping his eyes, he said gruffly, “Worst time of my whole life was telling Master Jared that you’d been killed.”

  “I didn’t do it deliberately,” she sighed. Damn! Was it going to be like this with all of them? Was she to be held accountable for her abduction? Never apologize! She heard Mirza Khan’s voice as clearly as if he were standing beside her. Miranda turned away from Eph and walked swiftly to the stern of the ship. She raised her hand in a farewell gesture. The gesture was quickly answered by a red arm and a white arm waving back from the quay.

  The anchor was raised, and the Dream Witch slipped down the Bosphorus into the Sea of Marmara. The evening sky had darkened to a deep lavender, and on the far western horizon was the thinnest slash of scarlet. Miranda gazed intently at the disappearing coastline. It was over. The nightmare was over, and she was going home. Home!

&nbs
p; Wait, said a small voice. You may not have won yet. You have yet to see Jared.

  Ephraim Snow’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You gonna stay out here all night, Mistress Miranda?”

  She turned to face him. “Where is my husband, Eph? I was told that he came to Istanbul. He was not on deck to greet me when I came aboard.”

  Je-sus! Something sure as hell was eating at her. “He was up on deck, with his spyglass, watchin’ as you said your good-byes. Somethin’ sure as hell riled him cause when you were halfway between us and the shore, he went below lookin’ madder than a boiled owl.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In his cabin.”

  “Tell my husband I am in the main salon, Eph,” she said, and she left him.

  Lord, she’d changed. He’d understood the enthusiastic girl-woman he’d brought to Russia those long months ago. But she was as gone as if she really had been murdered. The woman who had given him that cool, sharp order looked at him with eyes that never wavered. In fact it had been he who had looked away first. Praise the Lord she wasn’t his problem! Let Jared Dunham handle her … if he could! The Captain went to fetch the gentleman.

  Jared looked somewhat chagrined by the message Ephraim Snow brought. He had a question:

  “Has she changed?”

  “Aye.”

  He had known it! “Very much?” he asked.

  “You’ll judge for yourself, Master Jared.”

  He nodded, swallowing hard, and, brushing past the captain, walked to the main salon. Opening the door, he entered it. Her back was to him. He couldn’t fathom the set of it and that annoyed him. She didn’t appear the broken reed he had been told she would be. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “So, madam, you are back at long last!”

  She turned. Her new beauty stunned him. “Indeed, m’lord, I am most certainly back.” The mouth mocked him, as did the knowing sea-green eyes.