"Sweet Mother in Heaven," Alessandra choked, pressing her hand to her temple and closing her eyes.
"Of all the worldly subjects, you would discuss me?" he asked.
She could hear the ill-concealed laughter in his voice and did not chance a peek until the telltale splash of water resounded through the chamber. He leaned against the wall of the pool, only his face visible above the bubbles. "Join me, fair one, and I shall tell you all my secrets."
A passionate fluttering began deep in her stomach. She tried to push aside her shocked impropriety over his request, but failed miserably. His voice was a silken lure, urging her to the water, but a flicker of pride held her rooted to the spot. This was her heart, her entire life at stake. She must earn his respect before yielding the game. "I... I cannot."
"Why ever not? Can't you swim?" He stood to show her the wa-
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ter reached to only the middle of his broad chest. "It's not deep. I won't let you drown."
The scoundrel! She cast a quick glance at the locked door, the only exit to the chamber. Her gaze darted to his, her cheeks warming at the thought of swimming with him. She shook her head.
"Oh," he said. "I forgot. You're a maiden. What if I move over there, where I can't touch you?" He swam the length of the pool with swift powerful strokes. The water splashed against the gleaming tiles, bubbles separating in his wake. "Not good enough yet?" He turned his back to her. "What if I promise not to look while you disrobe?"
Alessandra simply sat there, frozen.
"If you don't come in willingly, I shall come get you, and then, fair one, I vow to touch every luscious inch of your delicious self."
Sheer panic swept through her. She stood then sat down abruptly, uncertain of what to do. She could not swim with a naked man!
"If you still don't trust me, I'll go under water. But please be quick. I can only hold my breath for so long."
To Alessandra's horror, his dark head disappeared below the surface. She glanced around frantically, seeing no escape. Leaping to her feet, she kicked off her slippers and fumbled with the corded sash that held the pink-spangled trousers at her waist. The garment fell to the floor in a silken heap, and she kicked it away, dropping the guimlik as well. Feeling every inch of her bare flesh, she slid into the luxuriant water and sank down to her chin.
Several long moments passed, and yet he still did not appear. She couldn't see beneath the bubbles. Had he drowned? Just as she grew truly concerned, he erupted from the water in a forceful burst, his wet flesh gliding full against her. She screamed, startled, instinctively puling away. His strong arms caught her, saving her from going under. I'm sorry." He flashed a wet grin. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
Alessandra just stared at him, stunned by the feel of his sleek, hard body.
"What would you know of me?" He swept the damp strands of hair from her cheeks then traced the curve of her jaw. "Do you know I find you delectable, that I yearn to feast on your sumptuous flesh?"
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His mouth slowly descended to meet hers. He rained tender kisses around her parted lips, nibbling her flesh, sending waves of pleasure spiralling through her. Alessandra wanted to respond with some semblance of reason, but turning their conversation into an intellectual debate was far beyond her ability at the moment. She had promised herself not to surrender, yet here she stood in his arms, quivering and naked, the smooth shaft of his desire pressed boldly against her.
"Do you want to know that I was raised in my father's palace, beloved by my mother and adored by my father's women, not one of whom ever came close to matching your exquisite beauty."
The heat of his body seared the entire length of her, and his breath came sweet and warm on her lips. Drowning in a tide of desire, she wanted to abandon herself to him, but was firmly caught in a trap of her own making. She could not yield, nor could she push him away. Her mind swirled with doubt. She wanted his respect. She wanted his love. And in that moment, Alessandra knew if she could not have both, she might have to choose only one.
"Do you want to know that even among the flowers in my haremlik, I have yet to know a woman who awakens such a powerful longing in me. Share this passion, fair one. Let us explore it together."
If she gave in to him, she gave him everything, her virtue, her life. And in return he would cherish her. Not as a wife, but as one of his women. A lifetime of slavery. The words echoed in her memory. Yet could she possibly live without this tantalizing love he offered?
As though he understood her struggle, he forged ahead with increasing vigor, determined to coax her over the precipice of her control. His hands stroked her every curve, the scented water enhancing the sleek feel of his fingers on her flesh.
"Discover this pleasure with me." His teeth tugged on the fullness of her lower lip. He found her breasts, his hands curling around them gently, teasing each nipple between his thumb and forefinger until she grew breathless and pliant beneath his caresses.
Perhaps she could survive without being loved, but living without this man who made her heart dance with excitement wasn't much of a future. Her head spun with his kisses, and she couldn't think of
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any way to win both his love and his respect.
As his tongue ravaged the soft recesses of her mouth, Alessandra slid her arms around his waist, abandoning all pretense of resistance. What was his magic that her will dissolved at his slightest touch?
She gave in to the urge to caress him, to explore the hard planes of his body. Her hands roamed freely over his tight buttocks and narrow hips. A savage groan escaped him when she found his hard shaft and stroked its throbbing length, gently, then more daring as he moved against her. She experienced an unfamiliar feeling of power as she recognized his need, his tightly-bridled restraint, knowing instinctively that only she could slake his thirst.
A tremor rocked his sinewy frame. Uncertain, she brought her hands to rest lightly around his waist and searched his darkly-beautiful face. He opened his eyes and peered intently at her, his breathing ragged, his black eyes smoldering with unfulfilled passion. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Did she really want freedom when it meant giving up his love?
His mouth covered hers hungrily, and he brought her hard against him. Caressing her body in bold strokes, he shattered her composure with the fierceness of his touch. He aroused such exquisite feelings in her, feelings she couldn't resist. He slid his hot, pulsing length between her thighs. The throaty groan that tumbled from his lips sent the last of her will scattering like the tiny bubbles that converged and popped along the surface of the pool. She moved her hands over the sleek, plated lines of his chest, up the corded muscles of his neck, and finally cradled his square jaw in her palms, returning his kisses with abandon.
She flexed the muscles of her thighs around his rigid flesh. He grasped her buttocks and pulled her close, the water flowing between them, creating a slick tunnel where his pulsing desire glided silkily gainst her. The breath caught in her throat at the intensity of these awakening sensations and she held his face firmly in her hands, tasting his sweet tongue, knowing she would give herself to him if he would ease this ache in the very core of her being.
Let us love, my fair one," he whispered hoarsely against her lips.
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Her life for his love. Her freedom for his passion. She would have to choose. He willingly offered all that he hadto give, and she would have to accept or deny him.
"Share this love with me."
His simple request eroded the very last of her control, draining the strength from her limbs, forcing surrender. She loved him. The realization flowed through her mind and body with such strength that she would have fallen had he not held her so tightly. If she had to choose between his respect and his love, Alessandra chose love. If she had to give up her world to be with him, then so be it. She loved. The word slid from her parted lips, an emphatic whisper. "Yes."
The
Sultan's black eyes flashed in victory. Before another moment spent itself, he spun her around in the warm water, his mouth never relinquishing its hold upon hers. A heated languor spread through her, her legs heavy as they drifted through the water. He pulled her toward him and leaned back against the pool's edge.
"You are mine, fair one." Lifting her into his arms, he helped her wrap her legs around his hips, leaving the core of her woman's desire revealed to his probing hardness.
Suddenly he was filling her, stretching her open in a slow, silken thrust. "Seigneur," she gasped, arching against him when he met the resistance of her maidenhead.
"I am Solimon. Say it," he commanded, impaling her with his depthless gaze.
She could not suppress a shiver at the rough tone of his voice. And as his name slid from her lips, he drove into her. A bolt of pleasure-pain pierced her, and she cried out, only to find his mouth back upon hers, drawing the very sound from her. He swelled inside, and her flesh yielded to accommodate his thickness. She clung to him, only half aware of his tenseness, the passion he held barely in check.
Gripping her buttocks in strong hands, he drew her slowly upward, withdrawing almost completely, then plunging into her in one controlled stroke. She gasped aloud, a tide of liquid fire flooding her tender loins. Trailing her fingers down the shifting muscles of his back, she filled her senses with him. His tongue demanded a response,
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and his surging maleness awakened an unimagined need deep within. She crushed her breasts to his ridged chest, rasping her nipples across the springy curls, even as he thrust back into her again, and yet again.
His husky moan rose over the lapping water and the gentle bubbling of the fountains. His mouth slid from hers, leaving behind only the spicy warm taste of his rough-velvet tongue. Wrapping his arms around her waist and hips, he locked her against him, embedded deep inside, then slowly moved away from the wall. She clung to him, lips pressed into his glossy black hair, gasping as each long stride pushed his hot flesh into her and sent waves of sheer rapture pounding through her.
When they reached the stair, he was forced to relinquish his possession of her and withdraw. A sound passed his lips as they parted, half-groan and half-gasp, and he swung her into his arms. They emerged from the pool, the coolness of the air sending a shiver through her body. With one broad sweep of his arm, he sent the neatly-folded piles of linens toppling off a marble bench. His eyes were heavy-lidded with passion as he pressed her back into the soft white mountain of fabric.
The spray of the fountain veiled them in its shimmering mist. His dark skin gleamed like molten gold, and Alessandra could not ever remember seeing such a magnificent sight. Bringing her hand to his face, she caressed the square line of his jaw in wonder. "Solimon, love me," she murmured, experiencing a rush of excitement at the look of raw desire on his face. She was his, and there was no where else in the world she would rather be.
"Ah, fairest one, you are perfection." He lowered himself into her tender embrace.
He thrust into her. He filled her body, her very senses. He was rapture and love. She molded to his hard form, overwhelmed by the fullness inside her, by the completeness she felt. His mouth found hers, and she yielded to his demanding mastery, swaying against him and meeting each thrust with a longing of her own.
Love me," she gasped, the intensity of her need draining every thought from her mind. Their bodies met in exquisite harmony—
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surging, receding, plunging into awesome depths she had never before imagined. She was drowning in a golden wave of pleasure, diving into an eddy of sensation. A mighty shudder rocked his frame, and he took her with him, riding on the crest of ecstasy until breaker after breaker crashed along the fine-spun shore of their emotions.
Slowly Alessandra became aware of her heart hammering against her ribs and the feeling of their slick limbs entwined. The Sultan shifted his weight, carrying her onto her side, so they faced each other. He held her tightly, brushing damp tendrils from her cheeks, and rocked her back and forth, burying his face in her hair. "You are precious to me, fair one."
At the tenderness in his voice, a wave of sadness poured through her. Mingled with the awe of the moment was the understanding that she had not only given this man her virtue, but her heart, and with those gifts, her consent to enter his haremlik. She loved him, would give her life to him. But no matter how much he wanted her, no matter how gentle he was, the Sultan still viewed her as a slave. Alessandra could not suppress a sob—she had found love, but lost the game.
"What troubles you, fair one?" He pressed a light kiss on her brow. "Have I hurt you?"
Swallowing hard, she met his gaze. "I have gambled and lost."
"No one has lost. We have both won. We are bound together." His arms tightened around her, and she could not suppress the slight shudder, the ripple of confusion that ran through her.
His dark gaze searched her face. "Is what I offer you so distasteful?" he asked, his expression serious, without a trace of humor.
"What exactly do you offer me, Grand Seigneur?"
The Sultan watched her for a long moment. He loosened his hold on her and swept his arm around in a half circle. "All that I am. A place of honor in my haremlik."
Her tumultuous emotions rose to the surface. No matter how she willed it otherwise, tears welled in her eyes and spilled over.
He frowned, the flickering muscle at his jaw betraying deep frustration. "Is a lifetime spent laboring at your uncle's side truly more desirable than what I offer you here?"
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She wanted to say something to magically erase the troubled edge to his voice, but could do no more than wipe the tears from her cheeks. He stared at her, and when she didn't respond, his face transformed into an inscrutable, kingly mask. In that instant, Alessandra no longer recognized her handsome lover.
"Once again we are at an impasse," he said. "The three nights have passed—whom shall we call victor?"
******************
"You may approach," the Sultan said from his seat upon the throne.
Alessandra thought him an imposing figure in his royal finery. Unlike her tender lover of the three nights past, he barely resembled the man who had captured her heart. A wave of apprehension coursed through her. He had triumphed. Forcing herself to leave the Kislar Agha's side, she crossed the Royal Salon, past the rows of silent eunuchs, then bowed low before the Sultan.
"It is sunset of the fourth night, fair one, and before we call an end to our game, I would ask you a question. Rise and face me."
Alessandra stood, pulse racing. She met his solemn gaze, hardly recognizing the man she had come to know so intimately, the man who had unlocked her heart and soul.
"I have learned there is strife within my haremlik, that my women have welcomed you in a manner that brings shame upon me. Is this true?"
She cast an accusing glance at the Kislar Agha, who scowled at her for such rudeness. What could she say? Upon her arrival at the Palace, the women had welcomed her graciously, helped ease her fear of an unfamiliar world. But they had turned just as quickly when the Sultan committed to spending three nights with her. They had been both kind and unkind. Finding no words to adequately explain the situation, she fixed her gaze on the far corner of the room, where finches bobbed from perch to perch in a wrought iron aviary, and shrugged.
"I have witnessed their cruelty, fair one, and now must deal with it."
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Alessandra cringed. Did the very walls of this Palace have eyes? She was more than mildly embarrassed that he, a man who bore the responsibilities of an empire, felt the need to concern himself with troubles so trivial in comparison. If she was going to spend her life in his haremlik, she would have to make a place for herself. "Grand Seigneur, I appreciate your concern—"
"I would ask your counsel on the matter." He leaned back on the high-backed throne and steepled his fingers before him. "How would you d
eal with this jealousy?"
He wanted her counsel? Alessandra stared at him, unsure if she had heard correctly. Despite a momentary flash of panic, she could do no less than tell the truth—whether it pleased him or not. "The women simply follow your lead. You do not spend time with them, so they lose all desire to make the haremlik an inviting place. With nothing more constructive to do with their days, they aspire to tasks loftier than those they now possess and scheme for your meager attentions. When you committed to spending so much time with me, I became a threat."
Some unrecognizable emotion glimmered in the depths of his eyes, and she swallowed hard before continuing. "If you would have them behave differently, you must treat them differently—like you have me."
He did not respond, and the silence grew heavy between them. Barely daring to breath, Alessandra forced herself to hold his gaze, back straight and head high, knowing full well the next moments would decide the rest of her life.
His voice shattered the tense quiet. "Clear the chamber."
She flinched, but resisted the urge to look away. Studying him intently while the occupants of the room departed, she wondered at his thoughts, wanted so badly to erase that distant expression from his face and see him smile. The realization led to another—he was right when he said there was no loser in this game, no winner either. If she left the haremlik, they would be apart; if he did not respect her, she would lose respect for herself.
As though he read his thoughts, he said, "You are wise as well as beautiful. You understand that neither of us can claim victory?"
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She had been holding her breath without realizing it and slowly exhaled at his words. "I know."
He extended his hand, and without hesitation she placed her own within it. He looked down, silent, his dark fingers tracing her pale ones. "You have given me a gift beyond price, fair one. The gift of yourself." His gaze lifted to hers again. "I would give you a gift as precious in return."
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