Retrieving a dampened cloth from the water closet, he made quick work of cleaning his seed, which mingled with her fluids, from her mound and bottom. The motion brought his cock back to semi-life, but he ignored it. Now, he just wanted to hold her and help her find her own crisis—but sleep was inevitable at the moment.
Tossing the cloth in the direction of the water closet, he climbed into bed, and pulled her soft body flush to his, aligning their pelvises. Arms wrapped tightly around her, he squeezed her close.
“You are my heart, Jinan. Don’t leave me.”
The words were lost, though; her breaths were deep and even in sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Found
Raised voices. More than one. Dread filled the pit of her belly, she had so many conflicting feelings. It might be Amir. Which meant she’d be taken away. There was no hope of Amir releasing her son. Not to one who had stolen his property right from under his nose. She hoped Rothburn would not be hurt in the process. That thought was as bad as being separated from her son.
The shouting resumed. She was sure the deep booming baritone came from Rothburn. The words were too far away and spoken too fast for her to make any sense of them.
Racing to the door, she tugged at it. It didn’t budge. She tugged harder, twisting the latch, but it held fast. She was locked in. Why had he done that? She shook the handle; the door wasn’t going to open. Raising her palms, pounding against the door, she shouted, “Rothburn, let me out of here right now! Don’t do this to me.”
She heard the dull thud of running feet, pounding toward her. The sound of a scabbard unsheathing and the shush of the soft trousers the eunuchs wore caught her ear.
There had been no response to her angry outburst, but she didn’t expect one from the eunuchs. Did they think they walked into danger? Was Rothburn even alive? God, please let him live.
She backed away from the door and called again in Turkish. “Please, unlock the door.”
Thump.
She jumped back a step, unprepared for the door to groan in the frame.
Thump, thump.
The frame split and the palace guards came through, forming a protective circle around her. She slumped her shoulders in relief and regret, her heart beating furiously in her chest as her mind tried to sort out everything that was happening.
There was so much dread mixed with sadness that she didn’t know if she wanted to scream or cry. Her interlude at Rothburn’s estate was over. It felt as if her heart were shattering, splintering, never to be put back together again.
She was going back to the harem. Provided Amir didn’t banish her for Rothburn’s actions. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t want to go back. She wanted her son handed over, and she wanted to live out her days as Rothburn’s mistress. Chattel couldn’t voice opinions, though. It wasn’t her place to ask for anything. Either Amir would listen to Rothburn or he wouldn’t. Nothing she said would change that.
At least Peters had made it out of the estate before it was stormed by the bloody Turks.
A dagger was held tight against the pounding life vein at his throat, but he refused to believe Amir would kill him over Jinan. How the hell had Amir found this estate? The ownership was well guarded, had been even in his uncle’s time.
“You go surprisingly far for a whore, Amir.”
Griffin would not reveal the depth of his feelings for said whore. He wanted to spit as the word repeated in his mind. It was necessary to talk this way while dealing with a man who sold women’s favors—Jinan’s favors. Don’t show any weakness. Jinan was his greatest weakness.
“You think me so foolish. I am not blind to the goings-on in my own home. You underestimated my ability to track down your property. You steal from a prince of the Ottoman Empire, English. This is punishable however I see fit. She has not much more worth than a horse, but you’ve risked my wrath regardless.”
“We are not in your homeland for you to exact punishment in your preferred fashion.” The blade nicked deeper. Griffin had to angle his head back to keep it from cutting too deep. It was hard to keep his eye on Amir in this awkward position. “Let us be gentlemen and discuss this.”
Amir pulled the blade away with a laugh. “You think me so unintelligent? You are dim-witted. Let us do this your English way, English. Shall we swill some liquids and shake hands on a gentleman’s honor?”
“I won’t release her so easily.”
“You are mistaken if you think that this is up for negotiation. I have not given you a choice in the matter. Your home is surrounded by my guards.”
“I can pay you whatever it is she owes you.”
Amir let out another guffaw. Griffin was unimpressed but what else could he say? This man was not simple to deal with. One could never be sure if they should cover their groins or laugh along at the prince’s jokes. Unnerving but most likely he did this intentionally to throw off enemies. The unpredictability of this prince kept his adversary unprepared.
“Surely we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
“I think I will take what is mine back.” He raised his brow with interest. “I would like your version of the heist, though.”
“Perhaps the exchange of information will help with the negotiations.” Griffin motioned to the leather chairs. The eunuchs made no move; every one of them had their hands clasped over swords and scimitars.
Amir moved to sit, setting his dagger across his lap. “You made it out of the palace with the help of a slave. He has been beheaded for the transgression.”
Griffin nodded, but cringed inwardly. He needed to turn the talk around so they discussed Jinan and the child. A direct approach was best. “I would like to discuss a price for Jinan.” First her, then the boy.
“She is not for you. What do you want with a harem girl? You cannot marry her, for she belongs to me.”
“But you are not married to Jinan.” At least he didn’t think she was. She couldn’t be, could she? Amir wouldn’t sell his wives’ favors. There was the child tangled up in this mess. Perhaps she was one of his wives, because she’d given him a child. Doubt assailed him as Amir let the moment stretch out in silence.
“No. But she is still mine.” So the child wasn’t Amir’s. Not that it mattered to Griffin. If she wanted the boy, he’d negotiate for him.
Griffin breathed a sigh of relief. “I beg to differ.”
“Yes, you may do so at your will . . . but it does not change the fact that she is mine. I own her.” Amir’s gaze wandered around the room, a sneer lingering on his lips. “I can’t imagine she wants to stay here.”
“I assure you she does,” he countered, eyes never leaving the prince’s. “I’ve given her no reason to want to leave. She is not a slave here, forced to share her favors to fill your coffers.”
“Ah.” Amir’s smile was slow as he leaned back in the chair, looking for all the world at ease. Well, he had a right to feel at ease when his guards watched Griffin with hawk eyes and daggers at the ready. There was no threat in this room to Amir. “You are mistaken there. I treat my girls better than most husbands do.”
The silence stretched for some minutes. Amir seemed to relish it, his fingers drumming along the arm of the chair. The only other sound was the chime of the clock on the noon hour, then tick, tick, tick.
“I’m willing to pay generously. Whatever it is she’s indebted to you for and more to keep you happy.”
“This is where we have a problem. How many times must I say she is not for sale?”
Griffin stood but kept his voice level. “She doesn’t want to go back.” At least he hoped he’d convinced Jinan that it was better for her to stay here with him.
Amir stood, nodding to the guards who flanked the door. “Retrieve her.”
“You surround her with armed guards and expect her to answer you truthfully?” He thought the man would be more reasonable. “I am willing to pay you more than the original contract. She cannot owe you more than that.”
; How had Jinan become so indebted to this man? Surely his last contract had paid whatever she was indebted for. This should be an easy negotiation. Amir liked his money more than his girls. At least that was the impression Griffin had after seeing all the harem girls wantonly displayed for the richest men in the world.
“There is no negotiation. She belongs to me. A gift from my brother.”
“Given her past, I find that hard to believe.” He had nothing to lose. That was the only reason he risked mentioning his past association with Jinan. He wasn’t on even ground and to find his footing, he needed something to connect him to her. God, this was not how he had envisioned the conversation with Amir. “Name your price, man.”
“There is no price. For her or the child.” Amir raised one thick black brow and crossed his arms, assessing him. “Her past is her own. She belongs to me now. Ah, here she comes.” His hand, palm up, stretched toward the door.
She stood frozen for a moment, looking Griffin over, tears filling her eyes. Then she turned away from him. And damn it all to hell, Jinan ran to Amir, dropped to her knees, and kissed his damned feet. They spoke in a fast succession of Turkish. He understood most of it, and he did not like what he heard. Jinan slavering her damned tears all over Amir’s shirt, apologizing for her disobedience and hoping that her son was well—though he couldn’t fault her for the last part. She swore of her duty and gratitude to Amir, saying she had wanted to go home but did not know the way to the island, asking forgiveness over and over.
Had he made no headway with her? What of their shared secrets and confessions? What of the passion that had brought them even closer?
“Jinan—” He could say no more than her name, and hated that his voice sounded gravelly, strained with too much emotion.
She turned to him, her face full of tears, and he was sure they were for more than sadness for her wrongs to her master. He stifled any emotion and cleared his throat. Now was not the time to reveal his weakness.
Her eyes filled anew as she walked toward him and ran her knuckles lightly down his jaw, stopping at his chin. In English, she said, “My love is yours for safekeeping. But my heart lies in my master’s hands, as you know. This is all I can give you. It was all I could ever give you, Rothburn. I tried to tell you I could not leave him.” Fresh tears fell from her eyes as Amir pulled her away with a look of pure venom in Griffin’s direction. The guards flanked her, and they pushed her from the room, barely giving her the opportunity to look back at him.
He frowned after her, wondering how to stop this from happening.
Amir intruded into his thoughts. “You see, Jinan will not contest this. She knows her rightful place.”
“She does not want to go with you! I will not rest until she is mine.”
He’d give Amir points for thinking fast. Before Griffin could take his next breath, there was a scimitar at his throat and a dagger pressed to his kidney. “You would do well to forget my little bird. She has chosen her place for reasons of her own. She cannot make any decision under your watchfulness. I do not like you, English. Stay away for the time being.”
“I’ll not let this rest.”
Amir removed the scimitar, scowling at him. He tucked the blade into the sash at his waist. “Stay away from the palace, English. It is forever closed to you. Should you disobey me, I will not be so forgiving. You will not leave unless you can carry your innards with you.” Then he turned and motioned half the guards out of the room; three of them encircled the prince.
Amir walked to Rothburn’s desk, pulling out something from his shirt.
The letter Peters had penned, and then came the green emerald, winking at him in mockery as the prince placed it on the mahogany surface next to the white parchment. The man who’d helped him escape the harem with Jinan had, indeed, been found out.
He did not betray his anger by staring at the jewel. He focused on Amir.
Could there be a solution to this? Amir’s guards sorely outnumbered him, so he could not take back Jinan by force. He could be persistent, though. The fight for her would not end here.
He’d follow their entourage out to the docks. Perhaps if she saw him again, she’d stay. Racing to the garden entrance, he took a right to the stables. Odin, his Arabian, was housed here. His horse had a sixth sense about Griffin. A whinny and kick at the stall door could be heard before Griffin came into view. The stablehand stood at the stable entrace, face white in what Griffin could only describe as fear.
“My lord. Peters is on his way with help.”
“I can’t wait, Gian. Ready Odin and be hasty about it.” The boy went off to retrieve his saddle, and Griffin walked toward Odin. “Good day to you, old fellow. Do you feel like a race to the docks?” He rubbed the fine white stripe between the animal’s eyes, the only other color on Odin’s black coat. Odin bobbed his head in eagerness.
Once the horse was saddled and mounted, Griffin urged Odin onward. Jinan would not escape him so easily.
He traveled at a safe distance behind the entourage traveling with Jinan. The prince must have hired every horse at the lodging inns near the docks. They made a colorful sight racing in their foreign gear toward their ship. Had the road been wide enough, Griffin was sure they would have ridden in war formation. Not that they needed to present more of a threat. Lords, ladies, and people running errands about town fled at the murderous sound of clomping hooves. Griffin remained on their tail. The prince had to know he followed, but apparently he found him unthreatening for no one tried to stop his progress.
Jinan sat behind Amir, her orange silk skirts and scarves flowing behind her, and a scrap of material tied about the lower part of her face.
At the dock, Amir turned his horse, looking for all the world like a sheik stealing his virgin bride. Griffin slowed his horse to a canter, his jaw clenched as he walked his horse toward the enemy, for surely that was what the man was.
Jinan belonged here with Griffin. What did she think to accomplish by staying with Amir? Amir could not give her the freedom he could. She could be Jinan and not some whore playing a tune for the next patron to afford her favors. No, she would be free to express herself as she wished.
Her dark eyes didn’t meet his, but he wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t see that they were still flooded with tears.
Amir’s hand rose, motioning for the royal guard to fan out. Griffin wasn’t such a fool as not to understand the meaning behind this. Still he pushed Odin forward, ignoring the scowl on Amir’s face and the crowd on the dock, whose attention they had captured.
“Jinan,” he said, hoping she could hear the pleading in his tone. “Don’t leave what I have to offer you. I know you do not want to go back.”
His only response was for her to turn her gaze away. A eunuch—damn it, it was the same man he’d bribed—helped her from the back of Amir’s horse and urged her up the plank. He’d been bloody well duped. The man was not dead. It didn’t make sense. Amir had let him escape. But why?
Half the eunuchs dismounted, while one took the reins of the horses to return them from whence they came.
He met the prince’s gaze, the question clear in his eyes. If he’d allowed Griffin to escape with Jinan, why had he come for her now and refused negotiation?
Odin, sensing his agitation in the squeeze of Griffin’s thighs, stepped forward. Like the synced rings of the Saracens’ spellbinding bell dance, scimitars were slid from sheaths as the last fall of Odin’s hoof hit the cobblestone. Griffin reined him in.
“If you are smart, you will stop where you are, my lord.”
Such formalities from a man who, not a half hour ago, had threatened to gut him.
“Bey Amir, I implore you to do the right thing.”
“Never fear, good man”—Amir dismounted with fluid grace, a man born to the saddle—“I am.”
Turning, Amir walked away as three guards stayed mounted, scimitars still threatening Griffin if he should move toward the prince. Griffin was not so foolish as to move forward, n
or foolish enough to leave. There was hope still, he thought, as he saw her standing at the stern, face masked and impossible to read. She watched him intently, though, ensnaring him with those brown eyes of hers.
The guards finally dismounted, their backs to the ship as they watched him with weariness. Did they think an unarmed man would attempt to overthrow them?
In the next moment, the plank was gone, the boat steering out of dock. How long did he stand there? Jinan pressed her fingers to her lips, then raised them in farewell. He could see the dots of henna from her palm down to her wrist and forearm. Her palms came together, and she bowed her head to him for long minutes.
When she rose, she turned, the wind catching the silk of her scarves and leaving a shimmering fiery trail in her wake.
Then she was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Love Lost
“Peters.” Rothburn nodded at his friend’s arrival.
“You look like you’re about to stand before the executioner.”
“I thank you for your honesty. What are you here for? Good news, I hope.”
“Afraid not. Amir refuses to hear your suit once again. Here”—he placed a crinkled but sealed envelope on the desk, addressed to “The Most Honorable, the Marquess of Rothburn”—“read his demands for yourself. I’m sure he’s not written more than he relayed, most direct, to me.”
“What did he say when you went to the palace?” He fingered the gilt edge of the paper.
“I think he’s reiterated it in the letter. I’m sure he thought I’d not relay the full message to you in person.”
“I offered him a fair price. More than fair.” He tightened his hold, angry at Amir’s refusal to cooperate.
“He insisted that she was not for sale.”
His jaw clenched. “I can’t see why not.”
The Surrender of a Lady Page 24