by Anne Herries
He moved out from behind the pierced wooden screen,
which had served as his hiding place, just as the woman surfaced
once more. At first she did not seem to see him, then, when she
became aware that she was no longer alone, she stared at him
for a moment, screamed and ducked beneath the water again.
Suleiman cursed loudly and waded into the pool. The foolish
woman was trying to kil herself. He saw her beneath the surface and bent down to grab her, but she shot out of his grasp,
swimming beneath the water to the far side. Then she came up
gasping for air. He caught a glimpse of her lovely breasts, the
nipples a deep rose, peaked and tempting, and then she crossed
her arms over herself, her eyes meeting his in a cold stare.
She was angry! Suleiman was also angry. He was wet and
uncomfortable and he realised that she had no intention of
drowning herself—which made what he had done seem foolish.
‘Who are you?’ Eleanor demanded as he waded up the steps
of the bath. He had been wearing a long, heavily embroidered
robe over loose white pants and the tunic dragged against him in
the water. ‘How dare you spy on me?’
‘I thought you meant to drown yourself. I did not intend to
frighten you.’
frighten you.’
Eleanor realised that she had spoken in English and that he
had replied in the same language, clearly as at home in her native
tongue as she. She had not expected that somehow.
‘Go away! You have no right to be here. Mohamed Ali Ben
Ibn owns me and he wil kil you if he finds you here.’
‘I do not think so.’ Suleiman was amused by her show of
defiance. Did she not realise that she was completely at his
mercy? He could strip off his wet clothes and join her in the
bath… The temptation to do so made him harden beneath his
robes. He could feel his manhood burning and throbbing with a
fierce need—a need he had not felt in a long time. ‘Come out
and dry yourself, woman.’
‘Not while you’re watching!’
‘Foolish one! You have nothing to show that I have not
already seen a thousand times.’
‘I don’t care how many concubines you have!’ Eleanor
retorted, stung by his mockery. How dare he speak to her so! ‘I
am not one of them and I am not coming out until you go away.’
‘You wil turn cold.’ Suleiman sat down on a tiled bench, his
eyes intent on her face, his mouth softened by amusement. ‘I
have no intention of leaving.’
‘You are also wet.’
‘But I shal dry in the sun.’ He laughed huskily, the cruel
mouth softened and suddenly appealing. ‘What a fierce one you
are, my little bird. You are truly worth the price asked. You wil
make a fine gift for the Sultan.’
make a fine gift for the Sultan.’
Eleanor was chiled. So she was to be sold after al!
‘Have you bought me?’ He inclined his head, sending strange
little sensations down her spine as she saw the briliance of his
eyes. ‘Who—who are you?’
‘My name is Suleiman Bakhar. I am the son of Caliph Bakhar
—chief justice minister to the Sultan.’
Eleanor was silent, fighting her desire to weep. It seemed that
al her hopes were at an end. She had hoped so much that she
would be able to persuade her captor to ransom her—but it was
already too late. There was something masterful about this man,
an air of arrogance that told her he would not easily give up what
was his.
Suleiman relented as he saw her shiver. ‘Come out, foolish
woman. I shal turn my back.’
He stood up, turning away so that he could not see her. He
heard her moving in the water and was tempted to turn as she
left the bath, but resisted.
‘You can look now.’
Suleiman turned. She had wrapped a towel around her body,
leaving her shoulders and arms bare, and was clutching the cloth
to her as if her life depended on it. He smiled, feeling oddly
moved by her need for modesty. Most of the women were only
too eager to show off their charms. He picked up the second
towel.
‘Come here. I shal dry your hair.’
She made no move to obey, simply staring at him with her
head up and her eyes proud. No one disobeyed Suleiman! To
head up and her eyes proud. No one disobeyed Suleiman! To
do so could mean instant punishment—even death. He was
stunned by her obstinacy. Was she mad or merely foolish? Had
she no idea how important he was—or what he could do to her
if he chose?
‘You must obey me. I am your master.’
‘You may have bought me, but that does not mean that you
can make me your slave.’
Suleiman saw the pride and defiance in her eyes and felt a
surge of excitement. She was like one of his hawks—when they
were fresh from the wild and untamed to the touch of his hand.
Most of the birds succumbed to gentle persuasion in time, but
now and then one would attempt to tear out his eyes. If that
happened the bird was returned to the wild. Some men would
have ordered it kiled, but Suleiman understood the wild spirit
that could not be tamed—and respected it.
He had never met a truly spirited woman before. They were
always trained in their duties by the eunuchs and older women
long before they were presented to their master.
‘What makes you say that? Do you not understand that I
have absolute power over you? I can do with you as I wil.’
‘You can do as you wil with my body,’ Eleanor retorted,
head high. She ought to be afraid of this man but she wasn’t.
‘But you cannot command my mind—or my soul.’
‘Ah…’ Suleiman nodded, enjoying this verbal tussle. ‘Yes, I
see. You think you can rise above the indignity of being a slave. I
understand. But you do not. You are fortunate that I paid a great
deal of money for you—or you might even now feel pain. I do
deal of money for you—or you might even now feel pain. I do
not think you have ever experienced true pain, Eleanor.’
‘Who gave you permission to use my name?’ Her eyes
flashed blue fire.
Suleiman moved towards her, towering above her, menacing
her with the power of his strength and masculinity—yet she did
not flinch. Her hair had begun to dry at the edges in the hot sun,
little wisps curling about her face. He could imagine what it
would look like properly dressed in its natural waves, cascading
down to the smal of her back. He was pleased with his purchase
and inclined to indulge her for the moment.
‘Here…’ He put the second towel around her shoulders to
protect her from the fierce heat. ‘Go into the house and let
Roxana help you to dress. We have a ride of some distance to
my father’s palace.’
Eleanor was torn between anger and caution. This man was a
noble of his own country. A barbarian, of course, but better than
many she might have been sold to. She was foolish to antagonise
him. If she tried pers
uasion instead, he might ransom her to her
family.
‘I shal obey because I have no choice for the moment,’ she
said with dignity. ‘But you do not understand either, sir. I am the
daughter of an English baronet. I have powerful friends. They wil
look for me and they wil pay a high price for my return—twice
what you paid for me. You may name your own price, sir.’
‘You do not know how much I paid…’ A smile curved his
mouth. ‘Would your family give ten thousand in your English gold
mouth. ‘Would your family give ten thousand in your English gold
coin? I might sel you for such a sum.’
It was a king’s ransom and her family could not pay
anywhere near as much—and he knew it.
Eleanor paled from shock. ‘That is impossible. You did not
pay any such sum!’
Suleiman laughed, much amused by her reaction. She had not
tried to lie, and that pleased him. ‘No, I did not—but I am
beginning to think I paid too much. You have too much to say
for yourself, woman. Have you no respect for your betters? Do
you not know that it becomes a woman to remain silent in the
presence of her master—at least until she is given permission to
speak?’
‘When I am in company that deserves my respect I give it.’
She felt a flash of temper. How dare this barbarian try to teach
her manners? She was an English gentlewoman! ‘Here, I see
only barbarians.’
‘Be careful, woman.’ Suleiman’s mouth hardened as he took
a step towards her. ‘My patience wears thin. Go to the house
before I drag you back in the pool and drown you!’
‘You wouldn’t…’ Eleanor began, but the look in those fierce
eyes made her think he just might. She gave a little squeak of
alarm, turned and fled.
Suleiman watched her flight, his eyes bright with laughter. He
had won the first tussle—but what a fight she had put up. She
was indeed a fine prize. A worthy gift for the Sultan…and yet
perhaps she needed to be tamed a little first. She was too fiery,
too defiant. From what he knew of the Sultan, her spirit would
too defiant. From what he knew of the Sultan, her spirit would
not be particularly appreciated.
Perhaps Suleiman would keep her for a while…
Chapter Three
‘You are beautiful,’ Roxana said as she brushed Eleanor’s long hair. She sighed and looked at her with sympathy. ‘It is a pity
that you are destined for the Sultan’s harem and not Suleiman
Bakhar’s own household.’
‘Why?’ Eleanor frowned at her.
‘Suleiman Bakhar is young and strong—and they say that to
be loved by him is like dying and going to paradise. Though
perhaps this is only gossip brought by servant women to the
markets.’
‘I do not care if he is young and handsome,’ Eleanor said,
shivering as she remembered the look in those fierce eyes when
he had threatened to drown her. For a moment she had truly
believed he might do it. ‘I do not want to be his concubine.’
‘He might marry you—if you are clever. Until now he has
taken only concubines. They say he must marry soon, because
he must give the Caliph an heir…’
‘I have no wish to be his wife!’ Eleanor stared at her in
horror. ‘I can think of nothing worse.’
‘That is because you do not know what it is like to be the
wife of an old man.’ Something flickered in the older woman’s
eyes. ‘If you did, you would do al you could to make Suleiman
notice you and want you for himself.’
‘Was it very hard for you, Roxana?’ Eleanor looked at her
with sympathy. It was easy to see that the older woman had
once been lovely—and that she had suffered.
‘Sometimes I prayed that I might die before night came.’
‘Is that why you left me alone in the garden? Did you think I
might escape? Were you trying to help me?’
‘It is not in my power. Had you tried to escape, you could
not have done so,’ Roxana replied. ‘The wals are high and there
are guards outside. Besides, if you had got out you would have
been noticed immediately. The clothes you were wearing marked
you as an infidel and an unbeliever. You would have been
chased and caught by the mob—then, when they saw how
beautiful you are, they would have begun to quarrel over you.
Unless Mohamed’s men rescued you, you might have been
raped again and again…’
Eleanor turned pale. She held up her hands as if to ward off
the pictures Roxana’s words had brought to life in her mind.
‘Enough! It is clearly useless to try and escape in the city—
but if I managed to slip away outside its wals dressed like
this…’
She was wearing a pair of drawers, very ful, which reached
down to her ankles; they were of a fine green material brocaded
with gold. Over these, was a smock of a paler green silk gauze,
edged with pearls; it had loose sleeves which covered as far as
her elbows and closed at the throat with a cluster of pearls. And
to Eleanor’s disgust, her breasts were clearly visible through it!
The waistcoat fitted her close to her body and had very long
The waistcoat fitted her close to her body and had very long
sleeves fringed with gold tassels, and the buttons were again
clusters of pearls. On top of al these was what Roxana had
caled a caftan, and that was a straight robe that covered her to
the ankles. A girdle of gold threads woven with what looked like
precious stones, but must surely be crystals, was fastened with a
heavy clasp of gold, again set with jewels. If they were jewels.
But Eleanor was certain they must be false. On her feet she wore
soft boots that reached just to mid-thigh and were embroidered
with gold thread.
It al felt very strange and she protested when she was told
that she must put on a casacche before she went out. Since this
was a huge cloak that would envelop her in its folds, and she
must also wear a veil and a talpock to cover her head, she felt
she would suffocate.
‘It is too much,’ she said. ‘I thought my own gowns were
restricting enough—but this cloak thing is ridiculous.’
‘You wil become accustomed to it,’ Roxana said. ‘When
you are in the gardens of the harem you wil be able to dispense
with some of these layers if you choose. However, you wil never
be alowed to leave the palace wearing less.’
‘Shal I be alowed out? I thought that was forbidden—that
once in a harem women disappeared forever.’
Roxana smiled. ‘You Western people do not understand our
culture. Men of good family guard their women for their own
protection. You would not be alowed to leave at wil, of course,
but the Sultan grants his favourite wives certain indulgences. You
may be taken on a shopping expedition—or to some grand
may be taken on a shopping expedition—or to some grand
ceremonial occasion.’
‘But what of those women who do not have their master’s
favour? What is it realy like in a harem?’
‘You wil discover that soon enough. Come, Eleanor, you
must not keep your master waiting or he may become angry.’
The look Eleanor gave Roxana at that moment was so ful of
despair that the older woman’s heart was touched. She
embraced her. ‘It is not always so very terrible. Try to please
Suleiman Bakhar. If he keeps you for himself, you wil not regret
it.’
Eleanor nodded but said no more. She knew that Roxana
could not help her, that she was free but had no power, no way
of earning her living other than by seling herself. She lived here
because she pleased Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn, and was as much at
his whim as Eleanor would be at her master’s.
It was terribly unfair, but it was the way of the world. She had
been spoiled, petted and indulged al her life—and now she had
no loving father to protect her. She was completely alone. She
did not even know if her dearest Richard was stil alive, and her
heart wrenched with pain at the thought of what might have
happened to him. Richard might already be dead—but she
would live and she would win her freedom one day.
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
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
chalenging. ‘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 kil my captors and run away,’ Suleiman replied
truthfuly. 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