Both the blonde and the brunette were executing lazy strokes through the water, their sleek bodies cutting the waves with little splashing. Glimpses of slim flanks and curving shoulders drew Jamal closer to the barrier to press his face against the glass like a small orphan pressing against the store window at Christmas, all his dreams on the other side of the glass.
He knew the brunette. Perhaps it was the turn of her head, or the wide-flung gesture of her arm, but the knowledge came to him all at once as blinding as a lightning strike. His heart pounded. His breath caught. He stood suspended in disbelief and horror, dawning hope and unreasoning joy. And, as he realized how she must have come to be in that other room, anger arose in him. Anger so intense his sight darkened and the pulse at his temple pounded.
"How the hell did you do this?” He growled, his hands bunching into fists at his side as he turned on the megalomaniacal manipulator standing there grinning, for all the world like a proud rooster crowing of his accomplishment. “I didn't even know her name, yet though worlds apart, you casually reach out your hand and snatch her away as if you read my thoughts, my dreams—” Jamal broke off and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his anger burning so hotly, he felt as if his blood sizzled.
"I thought you would be pleased,” Selim said, his expression frosting over as he took offense at his son's volatile reaction to his grand surprise.
"Pleased? Pleased? I am not pleased that the woman I have affection for suffered such an ordeal. I am not pleased that even now, you gaze at her unclothed form. Am I supposed to be pleased that others have also seen and touched what I would hold sacred?” Jamal snarled, “I think I can safely say that I am not pleased."
"I do not notice her,” Selim objected, choosing to address only that one issue. “She is for you. While others have seen her naked form, you must understand we do not assign importance to that. The physician has seen her, some few of the women, perhaps one or two eunuchs. I find your upset excessive for so minor a thing."
"Excessive. I cannot reason with you now,” Jamal sighed angrily. “I am beyond reason. I want only...” he hesitated, loath to ask, then gave in, “What is her name?"
"Her English one? Or the one given her since she came to be in the harem?"
Jamal glared, his impatience visible. “The English name. Her name."
Selim gestured, and Tubal read, “The Honorable Merridyth Elaine St. John-Smythe."
Jamal frowned. “Why do I know that name?"
"Your mother wrote of it several times."
Jamal snapped his fingers. “Of course. The girl that went missing ... then the blond must be her cousin, the Earl of Fellhaven's daugh—Father!” Jamal was so shocked at the audacity of the man he inadvertently called Selim by the intimate title, something he had not done often. “You have kidnapped the daughter of an Earl!"
"Only inadvertently,” Selim explained with a shrug. “She was a bonus, we got her free. We paid for the others, so it was not kidnapping."
"You might recall that England does not traffic in human flesh. What you did was barbarous and heinous."
"Come, now. I am no barbarian. The women were harmed and they are cared for, pampered. Why—"
"What of the girl who attempted to hang herself? Would you say she was unharmed? Pampered?"
Selim threw up his hands. “There is no talking with you.” he accused, pacing away from the wall. “Allah vindicated my plans by placing in my hands the one woman you were interested in. It was not I who decreed she would be here, but Allah. And she is not all sweetness, you know,” the Sultan railed. “Already she disrupts the smooth running of my women's quarters. I tire of this. Tell me now,” he demanded, “do you want this woman ... yes or no?"
Jamal opened his mouth to argue, and paused, nonplused. For the truth of it was, he did want her. Desperately. Madly. Any way he could get her. As his father had pointed out, she was here. There was nothing he could do about the past, no way he could have prevented her heartache or fear. But he could rescue her from her present situation. If nothing else, he mused, it would present him to her in the role of hero.
"Yes. I want her."
"Then all is well! Come over here for I wish to show you something."
When Jamal stood beside his father, the Sultan pointed to a raised curlicue engraved about shoulder-level to Jamal. “This is the mechanism that opens the door between this room and the others. When I leave, you may go through the door and claim your woman. Bring her through the door we came in, for the guard will have instructions to allow you and the woman passage. Be certain to close this portal behind you when you return from the bathing room."
Jamal said nothing, only nodded his understanding.
"Come to me when you finish with the woman,” Selim commanded. “We will talk.” With a high-handed gesture, he gathered Tubal up and left without a backwards glance.
Jamal waited until he heard the outer door shut signaling his father's complete departure, then turned, allowing his facial muscles to relax as his eyes hungrily devoured the woman he had desired for years. She looked slimmer than she'd been two years ago, though what he could see of her figure remained lushly abundant. The creamy swells of her round breasts floated just above the water, their firm little nipples making his cock harden and rise. His mouth went dry as he watched the two women cavorting in the heated pool, both unaware they were under scrutiny.
He didn't know how long he stood watching her; hours could have gone by. Finally, the blond hoisted herself out of the pool; her body pinkened and flushed by the warmth of the water. Wrapping up in one towel, she briskly dried her long, sheaf-straight hair with another. She left the room, tossing a laughing comment back over her shoulder to her cousin, who still floated in the heated waters.
Jamal didn't move, wishing to savor these moments when he had Merridyth to himself, wishing he could simply stand and watch this beautiful vision cavorting like a care-free child, her hair a cloud of dark mist on the water. His body reacted in the age-old way, his balls drawing up until his groin ached, full and heavy with need.
Soon, he thought. Nothing ... nothing will stand between my desire and me.
He pressed against the cool glass, rubbing his heated forehead back and forth in an effort to rein in his wayward impulses. He wanted to enter that shadowed room and haul his woman up out of the water. He wanted to press her—dripping and warm and wet—against his throbbing cock, wanted to plunge into her hot, welcoming channel. The compulsion grew until he could stand it no longer. Lifting his hand, he pressed the button, activating the secret door.
Beneath his hand, the well-oiled door silently swung open...
Chapter Thirty-three
I know the identity of the girl at your trial. Before that day, we had never made her acquaintance as her family and ours do not run in the same circles; however, the family is good with the exception of the father. Of course, his blood on his mother's side is good, but his breeding leaves something to be desired. I speak of Mr. St. John-Smythe. The eldest daughter is the monetary heir of the late Earl of Fellhaven. I have done a lot of snooping and the gist is this: the title and lands were entailed, and went to the male cousin living in the Colonies. Lady Judith would have inherited all the rest, but it seems the young Lady Judith was enamored of Hector and married him against the wishes of her parents. The Earl cut her off but for a monthly portion, but all the cash wealth went to the first-born child to be put in their control at the age of twenty-five, or upon an approved of marriage. That child is Merridyth Elaine St. John-Smythe; the young lady that was so attentive and helpful to me that dreadful day during your sentencing. Now that you know her name, what will you do? You must recall that she is missing, and has been missing for over five months. Everyone believes she and her cousin, Lady Susan, are dead. I, however, have had letters from Selim, and I have my own thoughts about the possible whereabouts of the two girls. My suggestion to you is to search in Turkey for her. The Sultan has a penchant for callously rearranging the lives of th
ose around him merely on a whim, and he questioned me, in earlier letters, on the matter of your interests and preferences; attributes you would look for in a wife. Unfortunately, the girl, and your reaction to her (which I must say was fairly evident to me and the world) was upper-most in my mind, and when I wrote back, I fear I told him all I knew about her. Now, with the disappearance (did I mention the girls were taken from their own home?), and the fact that nobody has seen them since, added to the fact that there was no ransom note, lead me to suspect ... well, you know what I suspect. I may be over-stepping the bonds of motherhood, yet I feel I must tell you the following—so bear with me. Son, against my will, I was taken into bondage and mistreated. I wanted to die. I seriously considered taking my life. Your father, Randolph, made me realize how much he loved me, and I listened to him, believed him, and chose to return to England with him and build a new life. You were a part of that life, yet, at first, I feared Randolph would resent you—the child of another man. But your father loved you almost as much as he loved me. He never once blamed me for the circumstances of your birth. Jared, if the Turks have indeed taken Merridyth, there is every possibility they have forced her to do things that many people would fault her for. If you love this woman, and I realize that may be too strong a word to use, since you did not even have conversation with her, please remember that if she survives her ordeal, she will prove to be a very strong woman, someone capable of great endurance and courage. She may well be the most suitable wife for you. If, however, you cannot stomach what has been done to her, then, for the love you bear me, do all in your power to free her and return her home. You will owe her that much, especially if what I suspect is true. I curse my inability to control my pen. Think on what I have told you, and know this ... No matter what she may have gone through, if you bring Merridyth home as your wife, I will accept her with an open heart and open arms. And I shall see to it that the Ton does the same.—Mum
Chapter Thirty-four
Susan swam to the edge of the pool and grabbed a towel. Once she was decently covered, she turned to talk to her companion smiling and shaking her head as she watched her cousin; for someone who had almost drowned, the girl did love water.
Merridyth floated in the warm womb-like waters of the pool, her mind drifting much like her body; aimlessly and peacefully. Laihla had agreed to watch Seana for this short time, though she had hidden her fears of such a duty badly. Merri was thankful for such a friend as she and Susan had both been in need of this peaceful time together.
"I think I shall dress, now, Merri,” Susan called from the pool's edge, breaking into Merri's drifting thoughts. “And you shall wrinkle like a prune if you stay in there much longer.” she warned playfully.
Merridyth chuckled, but didn't open her eyes. The water carried the sound of her small laugh clearly. “I dare say I shall not stay in much longer,” she called out, “however, I think I will just float here a few moments more ... it is so quiet and calm that I am pretending I am far away from this place..."
"Do not stay in too long,” Susan admonished. “We were given an hour, and we have already used much of it. Allow yourself time to dress. Remember, you have that appointment with the Sultan later on today."
"I could hardly forget that.” Merridyth retorted sharply, her pleasure evaporating at the reminder of the unpleasant, unnerving events awaiting her this day. “If it weren't for Seana—"
"I know."
"Sometimes, I feel so burdened I want to scream.” Merri admitted, ashamed to sound like she was complaining. “Then I feel horrible for thinking of Seana as a burden."
"You should not feel guilty for feeling like that,” Susan said, “for though she cannot help herself, she is a burden right now.” Susan sighed. “She is not the only one. I know I have been no help to you, expecting you to take care of everything."
"Oh, Susan, that is not true!” Merri came to her feet in the water, shaking her head in denial of her cousin's allegation.
"It is true.” Susan declared, talking over Merri's protests. “I rely on you to be my tower of strength, yet we are in the same situation. My only explanation is that you have always been stronger and braver than me. I have always looked up to you. Believe me, I know I have not been fair to you. I promise I will do better."
"You have been a great help to me,” Merri assured Susan. “I do not know what I should have done without you."
"Survived, I dare say,” Susan said dryly. “You would probably be running the harem by now,” she added, trying to lighten the conversation and failing miserably. She turned away from her cousin's troubled face, rattled by a harsh shiver. “I am cold. I really am going to get dressed now."
She left Merri sputtering denials and slapping the water in frustration.
"You know how I hate not having the last word in an argument, Susan.” she called to her cousin's retreating back.
Susan's laugh floated back behind her.
Merri stretched her arms out at her side and eased back into the water, allowing her feet to lift off the floor of the pool. Her eyes drifted closed and she floated on the swells of the soothing waters, her ears picking up the muted whispers of Susan's movements in the next room. The soft, sibilant sounds of cloth sliding against skin was somehow magnified by the water. She kicked her feet a little, propelling herself across the bathing-pool, her arms moving in a languidly graceful figure eight.
The sound of breathing came to her, amplified by the acoustics of the water-filled room. Close. Near the edge of the pool.
"I'm not ready to come out, yet, Susan,” she half-whispered, eyes still closed.
"By all means, stay as long as you like. I am enjoying the view."
"Arrghh-hh.” Merri screamed in shock. Her feet snapped up, submerging her head as her over-compensating motion tipped her backwards. She quickly regained her balance and stood up, flinging her hair out of her face, and giving the intruder her back.
"We had permission to bathe without eunuch supervision.” She announced harshly, every inch the English lady, regardless of her state of undress. She was very angry at the interruption and resentful of having her privacy violated.
A masculine chuckle echoed off the dark, cool walls of the bathing room, sounding eerie and mysterious. “I am no eunuch, Simsiyah Gül."
Merridyth whirled about, her eyes widening as they encountered dancing golden eyes. Eyes trained, with haughty male interest, on her own exposed curves. With another gasp, she bent from the waist, attempting to cover herself, frantically placing one hand over her lower privates, the other hand splaying wide-fingered, across both breasts. She sank down until only her shoulders were above the water line.
A quick glance upward showed the man standing at ease, his legs braced firmly, hands resting on his hips. She thought them interesting hands; wide palmed, clean, long fingered hands with a dusting of fine black hairs that disappeared into the sleeves of his robes.
His hands were not the only things she found herself noticing. He was tall. Taller than most of the eunuchs she had seen around the palace, though perhaps not quite as tall as Shirka. It was difficult to judge his body type, concealed as it was by the flowing eastern robes he wore. He carried himself like a prince. She could not see his face clearly in the mottled shadows of the room, yet there was something familiar...
Her mind, as it was accustomed to do after two years, compared it to the face often seen in her dreams. Could it be? No. This is the last place he would be. She shook off the lingering impression, chiding herself. You are seeing him everywhere you look. It has been well over two years. Time to let your fantasy go...
"This is part of the Sultan's harem,” she warned, her voice shaking. “You will be killed if you are found here. Leave now, and I won't scream—” her voice trailed off. For some unfathomable reason, she hoped it would not come to her having to carry out her implied threat.
"I have wondered,” he mused aloud, “whether or not you were a screamer. Will you moan when I caress you, take your beaut
iful breasts in my mouth, find the jewel hidden between your thighs and give you your woman's pleasure? Will you scream my name, then? I think I would like that.” The man's soft voice, barely above a whisper, rasped against her nerves causing her to quiver.
Merridyth backed away in the water, her steps unsteady as she battled a sudden weakness in her knees. Down low in her belly, a shivering quake awoke; a sensation of heat and turmoil. “How dare you say these things to me?” she asked breathlessly, incredulous that a stranger would speak such intimate words in such calm tones, as though he spoke polite nothings to a casual acquaintance at an afternoon soiree. She frowned in arrested suspicion. “Who are you?"
The man bowed from the waist. “Forgive my neglect of the proprieties,” he said, making gentle mock of their situation, his voice soft and caressing, almost physical in its effect on her heightened sensibilities. “But what else can you expect when you are naked in a harem, worrying over the lack of conventions,” he finished, his quiet laugh skittering like ice down her spine.
"Clearly, you are no gentleman to remark upon my situation.” Merri accused, wondering frantically where Susan might be. Couldn't she hear their voices from the other room?
"Ahh,” the man sighed. “You are, of course correct in your assessment of me,” he allowed. “I certainly do not feel very gentlemanly at this precise moment.” As he spoke, he was carefully lowering himself into the pool. The bottom of his robes immediately became soaked. “Yet I find I cannot lie and ask forgiveness, for I am not in the least sorry to view such stunning charms. And I ask myself ... do you feel especially like a gentlewoman right now?” His smile terrified her.
Merri's backward movements through the water became panicked flight. Ignoring his question, she watched him advance, stalking her. Heated discomfort expanded inside as she recognized the predatory message his eyes were sending. She lowered her head and half turned from him, too embarrassed to continue meeting his direct gaze. Her voice shook in fear as she asked her own questions. “Why are you—what are you doing?"
Feathers in the Wind: The Cygnets Page 20