Love and Adventure Collection - Part 1 (Love and Adventure Boxed Sets)

by Jennifer Blake

  A coldness moved over Julia. For a moment, her voice failed her, then she whispered, “May — may I know how I am to be placed?”

  “The Englishman beside you has been of great service to me. His knowledge of ships and gunnery has proved invaluable. This afternoon before the palace gates, he fended injury and death from my back no less than a half dozen times. What could I refuse such a stalwart companion? How could I reward him? I offered riches, jewels, position, the great boon of becoming a Mussulman. This last he accepted along with the freedom that necessarily accompanies such an honor, but all others he refused, asking only one thing more of me. He requested for his use and enjoyment the white Christian slave of the old dey known as Jullanar, the Keeper of the Honey. I did not deny him.”

  Julia swung to stare at Rud. She was stunned, and yet, a slow anger ate like acid into her heart. By his request, he had denied her the prospect of freedom as surely as she had ever denied it to him that day in the aftermath of the lion hunt. Moreover, he had seen to it that she was enslaved to him for his “use and enjoyment.” The passionate gratitude she had felt at his intervention in the barracks, the warmth she had known at his concern, evaporated as if they had never been. She would not let him use her for his own ends again. Never again.

  “I won’t?” she declared, forgetting the submissiveness proper for such a place, forgetting that one never defied so powerful a figure as the dey, even if one were a man. “I will not be his slave! I will never endure such a thing! Never—”

  The fatal word “again” was not spoken. While she raved, Rud inclined his head to the dey, and receiving his dismissal, turned and swept Julia up into his arms. His lips came down, warm through her thin silk veil, smothering what she would have said to reveal their prior knowledge of each other. The hard, punishing force of his kiss restored a measure of sanity. The shock of recognition, of distant familiarity brought forcefully to the present, robbed her of breath. She did not protest, but lay stiff and unyielding against his chest as, to the accompaniment of masculine laughter and congratulations, Rud strode swiftly from the audience chamber.

  “You may put me down now,” Julia said when they were well away from the court.

  “Only if I have your promise that you will say or do nothing that will put both our necks in a strangler’s cord.”

  “I hope I have more sense than that,” she answered with a lift of her chin.

  “So do I!”

  “You are still alive, aren’t you?” she replied, her tone tart in its defensiveness. “If I had spoken at any time in this past two years of our marriage vows, you would have been a dead man, crushed like an ant for the danger you might have posed to the immortal soul of Mehemet Dey.”“

  “So, I would. I have often wondered why you held your tongue. Not, of course, that I believe there was any danger of the dey committing the physical sin of adultery with you. The palace grapevine is too all-knowing and accurate for that.”

  “The thought was in his heart, if not within his loins, so it is much the same.”

  “But it is the loins that matter, isn’t it? I wonder what you would have done if he had offered to marry you?”

  “Agreed, no doubt, and prayed that Allah and God between them could see that as a slave I had no choice. Bigamy would have been a more acceptable sin to have on my conscience than the murder of my husband,” she answered, her voice cold.

  Abruptly, he came to a halt and set her on her feet. “And, your conscience was your only concern, I suppose?” he said.

  She flung a quick glance at him in the dimness of the stretching corridor, seeing like a dream long remembered his dark brows drawn together over his dark-blue eyes, the sun-bronzed skin of his face and the firm lines of his mouth. She allowed her gaze to slip to one side, passing over his shoulder. “What else should there be?”

  A sound escaped him like the grunt at a half-expected blow. “What else indeed? Come, we cannot talk here. Let us go to my quarters.”

  At the door of rooms which must assuredly have been equal only to those given to the dey’s personal guard, they were met by a soldier on duty. “Your pardon, effendi,” the man said, bowing low. “Your effects have been transferred to the quarters formerly occupied by our illustrious ruler Ali Dey. There has been a great scurrying hither and yon between the different apartments, but all should be in readiness.”

  “I know nothing of this,” Rud said.

  “It was the order of Ali Dey, our new master, may his line prosper and his reign and his life be long!”

  As Rud signified his agreement with such sentiments, Julia thought of Kemal, whose reign had been cut short. What had become of the grandson of Mehemet Dey? As she and Rud retraced their steps to a more exalted section of the palace, she put the question to him.

  “No one can say with any degree of certainty,” he answered. “Even now, men are still searching the dark corners of this stone-and-marble pile for him. He was never seen in the forefront of the fighting. It is said he made his escape during the last assault, with a number of his followers, and has gone into hiding in the city. No matter. He will be ferreted out and dealt with as he deserves.”

  “And, how is that?”

  “With whatever severity may be needed to see that he poisons no more old men, and sends no more women to the barracks.”

  The harshness in his voice was new, something acquired in this cruel land. With a shiver, Julia drew her thoughts away, turning them deliberately toward more domestic matters. What, she wondered, would the wives of Ali Pasha, now Ali Dey, think when they discovered the harem of the old dey still in residence? Would the women share the quarters for a time, or would the displaced females be sent to occupy some of the unused cubicles about the palace? Purdah, the protection of the curtain, was no longer important now that their master was dead. It could not shame him to have other men look upon their faces. But why was she exercising her brain with such problems? It was no concern of hers. Her place had already been decided.

  There were no guards before the doors which led into the former apartments of the new dey. Rud pushed the door open, stepped aside for Julia to enter, then closed the heavy panels behind them. A squeal of piercing loudness rent the air. From the direction of the gulphor erupted a plump blonde girl. Face wreathed in smiles, she ran toward Rud.

  This was obviously the Circassian slave presented to Rud by Kemal for the boon of saving his life. Though she was of the same nationality as Mariyah, she could not have been more different. Her hair was the brownish-gold of desert sand. Her face was round and broad, and her dark Mongolian eyes were tilted upward, as were the corners of her generous mouth. There were creases of laughter in her ivory cheeks, and dimples in her elbows. All in all, she was beautifully designed to appeal to the average Turk or Moor, but somewhat embonpoint for western tastes. It was also plain from the puppy-like devotion with which she came forward to greet Rud that she did not dislike her change of masters.

  She came to an abrupt halt as she saw Julia. Her face dissolved into a mask of woe. She salaamed to Rud, an obvious inquiry in her eyes.

  Rud caught Julia’s hand. “Julia, may I make known to you my slave girl, Isabel. She had another name, but it was nigh unpronounceable. Isabel, this is Julia — Jullanar. You will serve her with as much joy and willingness as you have served me.”

  “Yes, effendi,” the girl said, bowing low once more to Rud, but apportioning Julia a genuflection a great deal less respectful. “There is a meal ready for your comfort, my master. And soon, the bath will be of the correct temperature for your enjoyment.” The girl smiled, a shade of her enthusiasm returning to her face. “These rooms have their own bath, effendi, of a great richness and convenience.”

  “Good,” Rud answered. “I will call you when we are ready to be served.”

  From the arrested look on the girl’s face, Julia wondered if she was accustomed to sharing Rud’s meals. It occurred to her to wonder what else of his she shared. Although her type might not appeal to
the vast majority of Englishmen, Rud had taken on so much of the style and mannerism of his captors that he might also have adopted their version of feminine beauty.

  Julia had no time to consider the matter as thoroughly as she might have wished. Dismissing the other girl, Rud placed his hand on Julia’s elbow and propelled her into a large sleeping chamber. There was a solid door closing the chamber off from the others, rather than a curtain as in the harem; Rud closed it deliberately behind him.

  “We are going to talk,” he reminded her, his voice grim.

  Julia pulled away from him the instant they were out of sight. Keeping her voice low, she said, “What of your slave girl?”

  “You may say what you please. Even if she could hear us, or if she would listen, she speaks no English.”

  “If she would listen?” Julia scoffed. “Of course, she would. Doesn’t everyone in this misbegotten place, most of them without shame or the thought of it?”

  “So, you don’t like it here? I was beginning to think you were well suited in your position.” He moved easily to pour a cup of water for himself from the gold carafe on a table beside the curtained couch.

  “What do you mean?” Julia demanded, astonishment as much as wrath in her amber eyes.

  “There you were, the darling of the dey, queening it over the harem, your every whim granted, your every wish fulfilled, petted, pampered—”

  “—Enslaved, at the constant beck and call of an old man,” Julia interjected. “Playing endless games of chess, struggling not to win, hardly daring to open my mouth for fear of displeasing—”

  “Lavished with praise and compliments, your opinions sought and considered with care, your recommendations acted upon—”

  “Oh, yes,” she exclaimed, snatching her veil aside as it pressed against her lips, preventing her from speaking as quickly as her sense of outrage demanded. “And, walking a tight line between the opposing factions, committed to aiding Ali Pasha while realizing it was against the natural inclinations of the man I must call master to favor him, afraid one day I would go too far and be accused of disloyalty.”

  “With the power to alter people’s lives—”

  “Knowing all the time that I could not alter my own! And then, when finally the time came that I might have won freedom and realized a small amount of riches with which to find my way back to my old life, what happens? Once more I am enslaved, a thing to be owned, used, and enjoyed by a man I heartily despise!”

  “Would you rather have become the odalisque of Ali Dey? Would you? I assure you that is what would have happened.”

  “I don’t believe it,” she threw at him. “He promised to allow the women their valuables, to let them find husbands or a new life as best they could.”

  “He promised the take the idea into consideration only. It is possible that some of the older women, those with little value, he will set free. But, though I admire him as a soldier and a leader, he is still of the east. To him, a woman is a piece of property, one he would no more allow to go free than a good horse or a fine camel. It would be a piece of stupidity, for not only would he lose her value, but some other man would take her and make her his chattel the moment his back was turned. There is no such thing as freedom for a woman here, just as there is no such thing as a fine mare without an owner.”

  “I am not a mare!” Julia pointed out.

  “No,” he agreed, “though deny, if you can, that Ali Dey would have liked to put you through your paces.”

  “But he did not. He gave me to you!”

  “Yes, damn you! Am I supposed to apologize because I asked for you? Because I thought you would prefer to be the woman of a man of your own race, someone who speaks your native language, someone who is, incidentally, your husband?” He set the gold drinking cup he held down with such force that the metal rang.

  “Certainly, why not?” Julia cried, flinging up her hands. “Why would I not be overjoyed to find myself once more in the power of a man who is guilty of treason and murder and deceit? How could I possibly object to being conferred upon such a man as his slave?”

  He paled beneath the deep brown of his features. “I murdered no one, nor ever intended to. As for treachery, show me where it lies. I was an Englishman under orders from my government to infiltrate the plot to free Napoleon Bonaparte and use his plan of escape to transfer him to a more secure and less restrictive and unhealthy prison. It was not part of my orders, or of my government’s proposed course of action, to cause his death. I am sorry that it happened, but I will not have the responsibility for it put upon my shoulders. I swear that what I have spoken is the truth. I performed my duty to my country, nothing more.”

  “Duty? Ha! A feeble excuse for doing what your heart must tell you was wrong.”

  “Your heart may tell you so; mine does not. Napoleon may have begun his reign with the best of intentions, and I will admit he accomplished much. He ended the Terror, brought order out of chaos, and unified France. But at what cost? Like all men who attain unlimited power, he was corrupted by its lack of limit. He was a great man, but because he was great, should Russia and Britain have meekly agreed to become French vassals? No. I do not regret doing my best to defeat the emperor on the field of battle at Waterloo, nor do I regret what small part I played in preventing him from being set loose once more upon the unsuspecting world.”

  “In fact, you, and also your country, are glad he is dead?”

  “There may be those in England who will not be sorry to learn they need never fear him again; I refuse to be counted among them. Moreover, I will remind you that it was France, itself, that killed him.”

  “Very well,” Julia said. “You will not admit to being a murderer or a traitor, but I defy you to deny that you used deceit to worm your way into the Bonapartists’ group, and also into my bed!”

  A strange expression fitted across his face as he stared at her flushed face and the lush, gleaming curves of her form through the gauzy barracan she wore. Almost casually, he moved closer, reaching out to pick up the yellow diamond presented to her by the new dey, letting his hard fingers rest in the soft valley between her breasts. “To the first charge I must plead guilty, but my reasons for marrying you were more complicated. Despite the arrangement outlined with your father and the other Bonapartists, it was always my intention to travel to St. Helena in order to consult with Sir Hudson Lowe concerning the transfer of his prisoner. Taking you as a wife was a convenient excuse. However, I could just as easily have pleaded a business assignment for the East India Company, since my uncle and the company were both cooperating fully with the British government. The truth is, I was attracted to you. I had come to admire your beauty, your gallant courage — even your fanatic loyalty to your emperor. And, I felt responsible for you. My actions would deprive you of all hope of regaining your heritage. With your father dead, you would have no place to go, no way to live. What could I do except give you the protection of my name?”

  Julia was still for an instant, then she said, “Very noble, but you need not have forced me to consummate this charitable marriage.”

  “Forced, Julia?” he queried, his head coming up. “I used no force with you, though it cost me dear. I came near to ravishing you a dozen times over, but would not. Deny that if you can.”

  “You tricked me!”

  “For a purpose, I have explained before and see no need of repeating. I took you at last, against my most honorable intentions, for the same reason that I asked for you as my slave. Because I could not resist you, because then as now I wanted you with every fiber of my being. Between that time and this, there are other similarities,” he went on, dropping the jewel and sliding his hand to cup the fullness of her breast. “Then, as now, I had to bring you away from an encounter with the brutal side of men’s nature. This time, however, I don’t believe you are much affected.”

  Julia shifted so that his hand fell away. “No,” she answered, “I have become used to surviving.”

  “So have I,�
� he returned, reaching for her once more. “But I have never grown used to being without you. I wonder if you are still as you were before, unwilling?”

  Julia placed her hands on his chest. “More so now than ever.”

  “So, you think. I prefer to put it to the test. Especially since in this case I need not heed your tender sensibilities.”

  With an abrupt movement, he circled her waist with his arm, dragging her against the hard planes of his chest. As she gasped, throwing her head back, he pushed his fingers through her hair, twining them in its shining mass. His mouth came down upon hers with burning pressure. She felt the soft wiriness of his beard caressing the sensitive surface about her lips with something like pleasurable surprise, and then all thought and feeling dissolved in an enormous surge of rage. She bit, kicked, and scratched, twisting and turning. Though tears started in the corners of her eyes, she did not care if her hair was torn from the roots or her bones crushed. She wanted only to be free. In a desperate effort to make it so, she pitted her strength against him. Once, twice, she broke his grip on one hand or one wrist; still, she could not free both, could not escape the steely confinement of his arms. At the instant when she felt her strength begin to ebb away, he bent to place his arm under her knees and lift her onto the couch.

  Immediately, his body covered her, stilling movement, constricting her breathing. The bruises caused by the soldiers on her arms and ankles throbbed. She panted with a rasping, labored breathing as helpless tears began to track slowly from the corners of her eyes, and across her temples into her hair.

  “Julia, Julia,” Rud breathed, his eyes dark with pain as he stared down at her. “Why do you make it so hard? I would have asked for my wife to be returned to me, if I only could. Forgive me if I have caused you pain. I will take the hurt away if you will let me. And, if you will, O moon of infinite longing, perhaps my own will depart.”