by Connie Mason
Dariq’s scowl should have warned her. “Love slaves must obey their masters.”
Scooping her from the couch, he carried her to his bed. She watched warily as he removed the emerald necklace from his pocket and placed it on the nightstand beside a half-empty brandy bottle. Then he stripped off his clothes.
“If you consider yourself a slave, you will cater to my every desire. Spread your legs, slave, and prepare to receive your master.”
Willow tried to roll off the bed, but he threw himself on top of her. She heaved against him, but he was an unmovable force determined to have his way.
“No man will ever be my master!” Willow cried. “Go away, you’re drunk!”
“Drunk on your beauty and lush body. You are mine, Willow. I mastered you the first time you took me inside you.”
She raised her hand to strike him, but he grasped her wrist, holding it captive above her head, subduing her with his sheer strength. Their bodies were meshed together, legs entwined, her breasts flattened against his chest. His staff was hard and heavy and massively engorged.
Suddenly the pressure on her breasts eased as he rose slightly and straddled her legs. He reached for the emeralds and held them up. They glowed intensely in the flickering candlelight. They were so stunning they stole Willow’s breath. She followed the necklace with her eyes as Dariq placed it between her breasts and slowly, oh so slowly, trailed it over her nipples and down her body.
The emeralds felt cold and burning hot at the same time. The feeling was more erotic than anything she had experienced in her entire life. Then he scooted back and drew the emeralds between her legs. She lurched upward as they glided over her sensitive bud.
“Dariq, what are you doing?”
“Giving my slave pleasure.” He stared down at her, where the emeralds rested in her cleft. “They don’t do you justice. You are beautiful down there, all pink and moist and glowing.”
He slid the necklace upward, lingering with loving attention on her stomach and breasts, and then he fastened it around her neck. “I want you wearing naught but emeralds when I make love to you.”
Willow curled her fingers around the necklace. Immediately the stones seemed to glow; her hands tingled and dropped away as if burned. She had no idea what was happening, except that her body suddenly felt alive and very very, needy.
A worried frown creased her brow when Dariq reached for the brandy bottle. “You are already drunk—why do you need more?”
His silver eyes sparkled with mischief. Then, to Willow’s utter shock, he upended the bottle and dribbled brandy across her breasts. The tips of her nipples tautened instantly. The erotic sensation had scarcely registered before Dariq provided another. He began lapping up the brandy with his tongue, going over and around each breast and between them, carefully avoiding her tender nipples.
Willow arched upward, offering more of herself and demanding more of him. He was a devil. He knew he was tormenting her, playing her body like a fine instrument, stealing her will to resist. And, curse him, it was working.
Then he gave her what she wanted. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he took a brandy-drenched nipple into his mouth and sucked … hard. When he raised his head, both nipples were throbbing and elongated.
Willow watched with bated breath as he reached for the bottle again and dribbled brandy down her torso, stopping just short of her mound. This time when he lowered his head, she knew what to expect. His tongue felt like velvet, only rougher, as he licked down her body.
“Brandy never tasted so good,” he murmured as he sipped delicately from her navel and rimmed it with his tongue.
His mouth burned a fiery trail over her skin as he lapped up every drop of brandy from her breasts and stomach. When he reached for the bottle again, Willow cried, “Dariq, no!”
She might as well have been talking to the wall for all the attention he paid her. He was too intent on dribbling brandy on more intimate parts of her body. She felt her tender folds swelling, throbbing, and then his mouth was there, easing her torment while creating another. His tongue lapped and probed and thrust, until she hovered on the brink of madness. Dariq must have known when that moment arrived, for he scooted up her body and thrust his sex deep, embedding himself to the hilt.
He was so ready he could have climaxed immediately, but he clenched his teeth and persevered. Satisfying a woman had always been a large part of his pleasure, and it was even more important with Willow.
He flexed his hips and began to move, slowly, penetrating deeply, bringing tiny moans from her sweet lips. He kissed her, savoring her taste, moving his tongue in and out, duplicating the movement of his cock inside her. She was hot and tight and sweeter than anything he had ever known … or would ever know again.
Abruptly he reversed their positions, bringing her on top of him, forcing a deeper penetration. His hands were free now to stroke her buttocks and caress her breasts.
His breathing became harsh, grating, as his hips jerked harder, faster. Then he eased a hand between their bodies and touched the dewy pearl between her legs. Willow screamed. Dariq thrust one last time, hurtling them both over the edge.
He stayed inside her a long time, waiting for the tumultuous upheaval to subside before pulling out. When he grew soft, he lifted her off him and settled her down beside him.
Willow’s voice trembled. “Do you know what you just did?”
Dariq turned toward her. “Aye, I’m not that drunk. I left you well sated, did I not?”
“You may have left your child inside me.”
Dariq rose up, and then fell back down, his dismay apparent. “Perhaps I did that the last time we mated.”
Mustafa would accuse him of deliberately sabotaging his own plans to save his mother. Perhaps his friend was right. Dariq had examined his heart and realized he wanted to keep Willow for himself.
“You will never know if I carry your child,” Willow said. “I will be gone before we know if your seed found fertile ground. I hope it does not, for I have no desire to bear the child of a heartless pirate.”
Her words stung sharply. “Do you think me heartless, Willow?”
I think you are the most talented lover on earth. But of course she could not say that. She had no intention of inflating Dariq’s ego. She was frightened—more frightened than she had ever been before. If she went to Ibrahim already with child, the sultan would surely punish her. Did Dariq not know that? Did he not care? What kind of monster was he?
She glanced over at him; he was sleeping, his face relaxed into a smile. “Why can you not love me?” she whispered.
Dariq wasn’t sleeping. He heard her whispered plea but had no answer. He prayed to Allah and then to the Christian God, prayed that he would be granted a solution to his dilemma. Choosing between Willow and his mother was a punishment worse than death.
Suddenly a thought came to him, and he mulled it over in his head. It wasn’t an easy decision, but then, one’s death was never pleasant to contemplate. It could work, however, because ultimately it was his death that Ibrahim wanted. Aye, he would explain his new plan to Mustafa tomorrow. Until then, he would savor every remaining moment with Willow.
Dariq left his bed the next day before Willow awoke. She remained soundly asleep while he bathed and dressed. Before he left, he covered her nakedness with a sheet and kissed her forehead.
Whatever else Willow felt for him, he didn’t want her to hate him. He wanted her to think kindly of him. Perhaps, after she learned what he had done for her, she would realize how much he cared for her.
Dariq found Mustafa in the dining hall with Captain Juad. They had already eaten, and Juad was preparing to leave. Juad wished Dariq a good morning and hurried off to oversee the repairs on his ship. Dariq waved him off and seated himself across from Mustafa.
A manservant poured his tea, then placed a bowl of fruit before him. “What is your pleasure this morning, master?” the servant asked.
“This will suffice,” Dariq said. �
�I have too much on my mind to eat. Leave us. And close the door behind you.”
The servant bowed himself out and closed the door. Dariq picked at the fruit. Mustafa observed him a moment, then shook his head.
“ ’Tis the woman. Your involvement is more serious than I thought.”
“I cannot send her away, Mustafa. Ibrahim shall never have her.”
Mustafa sent Dariq an appalled look. “Are you mad? I suspected your emotions were engaged more than they should be, but I never imagined you would abandon your mother because of your obsession with a blond houri. I warned you, Prince. Did I not tell you she was trouble the moment I clapped eyes on her?”
“Save your anger for someone who will appreciate it. Don’t you think I have said as much to myself? Willow is … not like other women. She would wither and die in Ibrahim’s harem. She is a free spirit, with a will and determination few women possess.”
“Once you saw her as a desirable woman, you forgot the reason she was important to us.”
Dariq shrugged. “Don’t you think I have argued this over and over in my mind? Don’t you think I tried to tell myself that Willow’s fate should not matter to me?”
“What of Saliha Sultana, my lord? Are we to let her perish? When Ibrahim learns his concubine is not forthcoming, he will respond swiftly. You of all people know the extent of Ibrahim’s cruelty.”
“I do know, my friend, and that is why I am offering myself to Ibrahim in Willow’s stead. An exchange will still occur, but it will be me and not Willow who goes to Ibrahim. I suspect my brother will be thrilled, for my death is vital to him. Though I no longer reside within his sultanate, he still believes I threaten his power.”
Mustafa made a gurgling sound in his throat. “Allah protect me from fools and men in love.” He searched Dariq’s face, and then he smiled. “For a moment I thought you were serious.”
“I have never been more serious in my life. When Ahmed brings word from Ibrahim concerning the exchange, I plan to sail to Istanbul and place myself at Ibrahim’s disposal. I am telling you this because I want you to return Willow to her father.”
Mustafa uncoiled his huge frame from his chair and stood menacingly over Dariq, all six and a half feet of him, arms crossed over his massive chest. “I will not allow it. I did not save your life so you could sacrifice it. I will bind and gag you and lock you in your chamber if you attempt to do what you are proposing.”
Dariq rose, going nose to nose with his friend. “You have no say in the matter. Try to stop me and I will fight you every step of the way.”
“But at least you will be alive,” Mustafa argued. “I made a promise to your mother, and I intend to honor it.”
“At the cost of our friendship?”
“Aye, my lord Prince.” He bowed and stomped off, leaving Dariq to muse that he would never have another friend like Mustafa.
Mustafa made certain Dariq had left the seraglio before visiting Willow in the prince’s chamber. He knocked and identified himself, asking for an audience. Willow bade him enter.
Though she was surprised to see Mustafa without Dariq, she was curious about his visit. The huge Turk rarely spoke to her… didn’t even seem to like her. The scowl on his face was not reassuring.
“Lady Willow, I have something of grave importance to discuss with you.”
“I assumed as much,” Willow replied. “Please continue.”
“Has Prince Dariq informed you of his plans?”
“Do you refer to his plans to trade me for his mother? If so, aye, I have known Dariq’s plans for me since I became his captive. I am intended for Ibrahim’s harem.”
Mustafa nodded sagely. “It is good that you know to whom you belong.”
Willow’s chin rose defiantly. “I belong to no man.”
Mustafa shook his head, his dark eyes sad. “I do not understand why my prince is willing to sacrifice his life for you. But know you this, lady; I will not allow it.”
Willow slanted him a bewildered look. “What are you talking about?”
“The prince informed me this morning that he is not going to send you to Ibrahim. He intends to sacrifice his life for you. Ibrahim will be well pleased with the trade. He fears nothing more than a coup instigated by his brother to strip him of power. A dead brother cannot challenge his power.”
Willow was shocked into silence. Last night Dariq had given no indication of his intention to spare her and sacrifice himself. When had he made the decision? Why? More importantly, could she allow it?
“What do you want me to do?” Willow asked.
“Convince the prince to give up such folly. His life is too important to sacrifice, for one day Turkey may need him. Ibrahim has had no children with any of his concubines. It is a widely held belief that he is sterile. If aught should happen to him, Prince Dariq will inherit the sultanate, and he will become ruler of the great Ottoman Empire.”
Willow considered everything Mustafa had told her, but nothing made sense. Dariq was a pirate. Pirates did not have a noble bone in their bodies. He said he cared for her, but by no means could that be considered a declaration of love. She knew Dariq was fond of her, but would a man sacrifice his life for a woman he was merely fond of?
“You want me to convince Dariq that his life is worth more than mine,” Willow repeated.
“Aye, lady. Your life is naught compared to Prince Dariq’s.”
Willow bristled. “My life means something to me and my family.”
Mustafa slumped, his disappointment palpable. “I thought you cared for my master, but I was mistaken.”
“You are not mistaken, Mustafa. I care a great deal for Dariq. You are the one who does not care enough. If you did, you would understand that he has committed himself to a selfless act of honor and nobility.”
Mustafa stiffened. “I love Prince Dariq more than my own life. I would willingly die for him. I protected him in Istanbul, and I will continue to protect him until my dying breath.”
“Forgive me for having doubted you,” Willow apologized. “I know how close you are to Dariq, and that he respects your opinions and values your friendship.”
“Then you will help me dissuade him from his destructive course?”
“Mustafa, what are you doing here!” Dariq’s voice roared from the doorway. “You had no right to divulge our private conversation to Lady Willow.”
“Forgive me, master,” Mustafa said, sounding not at all contrite. “I told you I would do whatever it took to prevent you from throwing your life away.”
“My life is mine to do with as I please. Leave us!”
Mustafa slanted a warning glance at Willow and then departed.
“What did he say to you?” Dariq demanded.
“Why, Dariq? Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?”
Dariq shrugged. “Perhaps I am not as heartless as you think.”
Despite his soft-spoken words, Willow sensed a deeper reason. “Is that the only motive?”
“I am better prepared to defend myself against Ibrahim than you or my mother. I do not intend to die, Willow.”
One finely arched eyebrow shot upward. “Do you not? Mustafa thinks differently.”
“I haven’t told him everything.”
“How do you expect to save yourself? From what I’ve heard of your brother, he will order your death the moment you step ashore in Istanbul.”
“ ’Tis my head,” Dariq drawled. “You and Mustafa are insulting my intelligence.”
The words came easily to her lips, though she hadn’t planned them. “I won’t let you do it. I at least have a chance of surviving, while you do not. There is no guarantee you will remain alive longer than a heartbeat.”
Willow couldn’t let Dariq die. Mustafa was right. Ibrahim would not let his brother live once he surrendered himself.
“I know what you are thinking, but my mind is made up,” Dariq said. “Naught will change it.”
“You said you had a plan. What is it?”
Dar
iq looked away. He wished he did have a plan. All he knew was that he couldn’t let his mother die because he cared more than he should for an English houri.
Chapter Thirteen
Dariq began making plans for his departure. He provisioned two ships, his own Revenge to carry him to Istanbul and another to take Willow home. Mustafa adamantly refused to help him; they butted heads constantly about Dariq’s decision to sacrifice himself for a woman.
Dariq knew Mustafa would take charge of the Brotherhood once he was gone, though with great reluctance, and Captain Juad would become his lieutenant. He had already spoken to Juad about it and had received reluctant agreement. The Brotherhood would prosper regardless of who was in charge.
As for Willow, she would return to her father and live her life without him. Maybe she would wed her fiancé, or another man who caught her fancy. But until he left, she was his to make love to each night. And each night he silenced her pleas to rethink his plans with deep kisses and erotic lovemaking.
Though he hadn’t given up hope, Dariq had no definite plan to escape death. He couldn’t even think about how he would avoid Ibrahim’s death sentence until his mother was safely aboard the Revenge and well on her way to Lipsi. And there was a good chance that Ibrahim would order his execution immediately.
Willow was at her wits’ end. Whenever she tried to talk sense into Dariq, he refused to listen. Then he made love to her as if it were the last time, which might very well be true if he continued to tread the path to an early grave.
Willow felt certain she had a better chance of surviving Ibrahim’s harem than Dariq did the sultan’s prison. Ibrahim might desire her body, but he craved Dariq’s death. She grimaced with distaste at the thought of Ibrahim’s hands on her, but she was determined to do whatever it took to keep Dariq alive. Even if it meant becoming the sultan’s concubine.
Willow had reached the conclusion that she loved Dariq. How could she not? Any man willing to give up his life for her was deserving of her love; her body was already his.