by Connie Mason
Dariq found Willow sitting in the garden when he came looking for her one afternoon. He sat down beside her, his expression grim. “Ahmed’s ship has arrived.”
Willow went still. “So soon?”
He nodded gravely. “I plan to leave on the morning tide.”
“Is there naught I can do to change your mind? Send me to Ibrahim as you originally planned. I swear he will not harm me. I will charm him into making me his favorite.”
Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say. A low growl rumbled from Dariq’s chest. “Ibrahim will not touch you.” He rose abruptly. “There is still much to be done. I shall return in time to share supper with you.” His expression softened. “After, we will make love until dawn, until we must part.”
Tears streamed down Willow’s cheeks as she watched Dariq walk away. She had to do something, but what?
She was lost in thought when she heard the shuffle of footsteps on the flagstones. She turned her head, surprised to see Mustafa and Baba approaching.
Mustafa bowed. “Forgive us for intruding, lady. I knocked, but you did not hear.”
“I already know what you have come to tell me. Ahmed’s ship has returned.”
Mustafa bowed his head. “I cannot let the prince go to his death. I intend to keep the promise I made to his mother.”
“I agree,” Willow said. “If there is any way possible, I would take his place.”
Baba, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward. “There is a way, my lady, but you may not like it.”
“Tell me! I will do anything to stop Dariq from throwing away his life.”
“Are you willing to go to Ibrahim?”
Willow did not misunderstand. She nodded slowly. “I suggested it to Dariq, but he refused to listen. He … he swore that I would not become Ibrahim’s concubine.”
Mustafa’s keen gaze dug deep into Willow’s soul, as if searching for the truth. He must have found it, for he smiled, the first smile Willow had ever known from him.
“Here is my plan, my lady. Baba is skilled in the use of drugs. She will prepare a strong sedative for Prince Dariq. It will make him sleep until long after his ship has sailed for Istanbul with you aboard.”
“The drug won’t hurt him, will it?” Willow asked anxiously.
“Nay,” Baba assured her. “Our master is beloved; no one here wishes him harm.”
Curious, Willow asked, “How will you give Dariq a sedative without arousing his suspicion?”
“It won’t be difficult,” Mustafa explained. “Baba will infuse the drug into his tea. Tonight, you must refuse tea with your dinner and drink juice instead.”
“What if Dariq wants juice instead of tea?”
“He won’t. The prince’s habits are well known to me. He will sleep deeply for many hours. Once he is deep in sleep, I will bind him to his bed. When he awakens, he will realize what has happened, but by then it will be too late to stop the Revenge from sailing.” He sent Willow a sheepish look. “I intend for the prince to be kept bound in his bed for two days. Juad and Baba will see to his care. The Revenge is the swiftest ship in his fleet. Prince Dariq will not be able to overtake her.”
“And I shall be on the Revenge,” Willow said softly. “The exchange will take place as originally planned.”
“Aye, my lady. But success depends upon your compliance. I will not force you aboard the Revenge.”
“When he awakens, Dariq will be furious with you and everyone who had a hand in this.”
“It cannot be helped. Saliha Sultana did not save the prince’s life so he could throw it away. I will be aboard the Revenge when he is released, praise Allah, but I will face his wrath when I return with his mother. It is up to you, lady, to tell us whether or not you will help.”
Willow shuddered. If she did not fall in with Mustafa’s plan, Dariq would die. If she sailed to Istanbul, she would spend her life behind walls, bound forever by Ibrahim’s will. Either way, the choice was a terrible one, but Willow did not hesitate. She had not abandoned hope that her father was searching for her and would eventually rescue her. He wasn’t the kind to give up.
“Tell me what I must do.”
It took but a few minutes for Mustafa to explain his plan. Then he and Baba left Willow to ponder her fate. She sat in the garden where they had left her, staring at her hands, wondering if Dariq would follow her to Istanbul after he was released. Probably not, she decided. Once his mother was returned to him, he would forget about her and what she had done for him.
Freedom might not mean a great deal in Dariq’s country, but to her it meant everything. Granted, English society imposed many restrictions upon young women, but at least they weren’t confined behind walls and used as sex slaves.
Lost in contemplation, Willow remained so long in the garden she didn’t notice that the shadows had lengthened and the sun had sunk below the horizon. Nor did she know she wasn’t alone until a pair of strong arms circled her from behind.
She smiled and leaned back against Dariq, breathing deeply. He smelled of exotic spices and a scent uniquely his.
“Our dinner will be served shortly,” Dariq whispered against her ear. He extended his hand. “Come. There is plenty of time to enjoy a bath. Baba prepared a special perfume to add to the water. I think you will enjoy it.”
So this is the beginning of the end, Willow thought as she placed her hand in Dariq’s and let him draw her to her feet. Hand in hand they walked to the hammam. The small chamber was warm and humid and indolent with a flowery scent Willow didn’t recognize. She sniffed appreciatively.
“Do you like the scent?” Dariq asked. “I poured it into the water.”
“Very much. ’Tis intoxicating,” Willow allowed.
Dariq turned her toward him, his eyes dark with desire. “I find it arousing myself. Shall I help you undress?”
Willow offered no objection as Dariq removed her clothing and then his own. He stepped back to look at her. “You have a beautiful body.”
Willow smiled, her eyes taking their fill of him while he gazed at her. His legs were long and muscular; the tendons beneath his golden skin rippled with suppressed tension. “So do you.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Men’s bodies are not beautiful, beauty.”
“You are right, of course. I meant to say magnificent.”
Smiling with a tenderness that took Willow’s breath away, he led her down the steps to the water. Once she was immersed to her hips, he reached into the pot of fragrant soap sitting on the rim of the tub and scooped out a handful. His hands slid provocatively over her breasts, stomach and hips; then he turned her around to spread soap over her back and buttocks.
He surpised her when he lifted her, sat her on the lip of the tub and reached for her left foot. Raising it from the water, he soaped her foot and leg, his hand straying into the damp tunnel between her thighs. Whimpering, she arched into his caress. Then he gave the same attention to her other foot and leg. By the time he lifted her down into the water, her skin was flushed and she was trembling.
“Now it’s your turn,” Willow purred, dipping her fingers into the pot of soap.
Willow loved the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips; it was smooth and velvety, yet the muscles were hard beneath the surface. Every time she touched a sensitive spot, his tendons jerked in response. When she finally turned her attention to his manhood, she wasn’t surprised to find him fully erect.
Holding his engorged staff between her hands, she slowly stroked up and down. She watched his face as she worked her magic on him; his head was thrown back, his teeth bared and his eyes closed. Did she look as transfixed as Dariq when he caressed her?
Abruptly Dariq’s eyes flew open and he removed her hands; his silver eyes were so dark they appeared black. He slipped into the water to rinse off the soap, then scooped Willow into his arms and carried her from the hammam.
“I want to be inside you when I find my pleasure,” he whispered hoarsely.
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sp; He dried her with a soft cloth. When he finished, she was as aroused as Dariq. Their food was waiting for them on a low table surrounded by a pile of pillows when they returned to the bedchamber. Dariq seated her and followed her down. Willow saw the teapot and tried not to think about the drug it held. How soon after he drank it would it take effect?
She wanted to have this one last night with him and could think of only one way to achieve it. She stroked his face, turning it toward her and away from the food.
“I am not hungry for food yet. I want to make love before we eat.”
A slow grin spread over Dariq’s face. “I have met my match. Aye, my lusty beauty, the food will keep.”
He lowered her to the pillows and kissed her ravenously, all thought of food forgotten in the name of passion. He aroused her slowly, lavishing her with tender, nipping kisses, using his hands and mouth to make her body sing. She returned his ardor kiss for kiss, until he was hard as stone and they were both trembling with need. It wasn’t enough.
Willow wanted more of him. She wanted to taste him as he had tasted her. Clasping his hips in her hands, she lowered her head and licked the length of his cock, from the base to the head. Then she lapped a pearly drop of dew from the engorged tip with her tongue. He reacted violently to the rasp of her tongue, arching and crying out.
She went still. “Did I hurt you?”
“Aye, you are killing me, but I love it. Don’t stop.”
Willow was enjoying herself far too much to quit now. She raised her head and looked into his eyes. They were narrowed into slits and watching her. She grinned at him, then slipped her lips around the head and sucked him into her mouth. His moans fell one upon another as she licked up one side of his staff and down the other. The salty sweet taste of him surprised but did not disgust her.
He grasped her head between his palms, holding her in place. “Deeper,” he groaned. “Harder.”
Happily Willow gave him what he wanted as her head dipped again, increasing the pressure upon his sensitive sex with her tongue and lips.
Suddenly Dariq lifted her off and away. “No more, vixen.” He lay without moving several minutes, struggling to control himself. “Turn over,” he panted.
She stared at him for the length of a heartbeat before obeying. Then he raised her hips and positioned himself behind her. Willow waited with bated breath for Dariq to do something … anything. She wiggled her hips invitingly. When he finally thrust inside her, she shoved back against him, urging him on with tiny, desperate cries.
He leaned over her, pushing in and out of her tight passage while his hands teased her nipples into hard nubs. Sweat dampened his skin, blood pooled hot and heavy in his cock. The scent of aroused female filled his nostrils as he drove himself relentlessly. He was so close to the edge, he feared he wouldn’t be able to wait for her. He tried to slow down, but he was stampeding toward climax.
“Hurry, love,” he pleaded. “Come with me.”
Unwilling to leave her behind, he slid one hand down her stomach and gently massaged the swollen jewel nestled between her thighs with the rough pad of his thumb. Willow screamed and began to convulse.
“That’s it. Come with me, sweet beauty. Soar with me.”
Willow was already soaring. She felt her soul touch the moon and stars, and then she heard Dariq cry out in a voice harsh with anguish, “You are mine, Willow, mine.”
Then his warm seed filled her.
For several long minutes Dariq lay panting and motionless on top of her. Then he moved away, his chest heaving as he lowered himself beside her.
“I will never give you to Ibrahim,” he said fiercely. “You may already be carrying my babe.”
“Is that the only reason, Dariq?” Willow asked.
Dariq stroked her face. “Nay, sweet love, but the rest is better left unsaid. We go in different directions now, you to your father and I to my…” His sentence fell away.
“To your death—is that what you meant to say?”
“If that is my fate, then so be it.”
Rising, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the hammam. They washed quickly and returned to the bedchamber and the supper that awaited them.
Dariq poured tea into his cup and held the pot suspended above hers. “Will you have tea?”
“Juice, I think,” Willow replied.
Dariq poured juice from a pitcher into her goblet. Between kisses, they fed each other morsels of chicken, lamb and beef and nibbled on tender vegetables and pieces of flatbread. Willow watched closely as Dariq drank his tea and refilled his cup. She sipped her juice, her eyes lowered as she waited for his response to the drug Baba had infused in the tea.
Willow found it difficult to maintain her composure, for she knew the outcome of this night. She became so quiet and introspective that Dariq asked, “Is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
She sent him a tremulous smile. “I am fine, but I cannot eat another bite.”
“Nor I,” Dariq said. “The night is still young. If this is to be our last, I want to make the most of it.” He held out his hand.
Willow felt like a traitor as she placed her hand in his and let him lead her to the bed. Once he awakened, would Dariq realize that she and his faithful friends had plotted against him? Would he forget about her when she was gone? Or would he follow her to Istanbul after he was freed? She hoped not, for it would be too late; she would already be ensconced in the sultan’s harem with his other concubines.
Willow hoped Dariq would accept her gift of life and remember her fondly. She could do no less for him, since he was willing to die for her. The hope still existed that her father would rescue her, and that fragile hope gave her the courage she needed to see Mustafa’s plan through.
“We will make love slowly this time,” Dariq said, interrupting her mental musings.
As they began to make love, Willow wondered if Baba’s drug had been potent enough, for he did make love to her slowly, very, very slowly. When it ended, Willow lay limp in his arms, her eyes shut, her chest heaving.
“After I rest a moment, we will make love again,” Dariq murmured. His words were slurred, his eyes hazy even as he spoke.
Willow smiled at him. His eyelids fluttered as he returned her smile.
“I must be getting old,” he muttered sheepishly.
She stroked his forehead. “Go to sleep, my prince. You have earned your rest.” Her voice caught on a sob. “Forgive me, my love; please forgive me.”
His eyes opened with difficulty. “What have you done?”
For one desperate moment Willow thought the drug wasn’t going to work. But when he tried to rise up on his elbows, they collapsed beneath him.
“Forgive me,” Willow repeated. “I love you.”
His fingers curled around her shoulders, bringing her face close to his. The accusation in his eyes revealed the precise moment he realized what was happening to him.
“What… have … you … done?”
Then his hands fell away, his eyes rolled back, and he went limp.
Willow slumped back against the mattress. It was done. She was sad but not remorseful. Because of her, Dariq would live. She was frightened, however. She had no idea what to expect as one of the sultan’s concubines, or what the future held for her, but she could and would pray for a miracle.
There came a discreet knock on the door. Baba cracked it open and peeked inside. “Is it done, my lady? Is the prince sleeping?”
Willow sat up in bed, holding the sheet to her breasts. “Aye, ’tis done. What happens now?”
Baba approached the bed, pulled back Dariq’s eyelids and peered into his eyes. There was no visible response. “He will sleep until well after your ship has departed,” Baba predicted. “I will summon Mustafa while you dress. Allah protect you, my lady.”
“Please take good care of Prince Dariq,” Willow whispered.
Baba departed. Willow washed, dressed in one of the gowns Dariq had given her and coiled her hai
r atop her head. She was ready when Mustafa came for her, but somewhat surprised to see Ali Hara with him. Had he come to bid her goodbye?
“The ship is ready to sail on the morning tide,” Mustafa said after a brief glance at Dariq. “You did well, lady. I am grateful. Follow me.”
Mustafa led the way out the door. Willow turned back to Dariq and pressed her lips to his. Tears streaming down her face, she hurried after Mustafa, pausing at the door for one last look at her love.
The three of them moved through the silent seraglio and into the night. A carriage awaited them in the courtyard. Mustafa climbed into the driver’s box. Ali Hara handed Willow inside and followed in her wake.
“I am going with you, lady,” the eunuch said.
“What? Does Mustafa know?”
“I insisted, and Mustafa agreed. My master would want me to protect you. Kamel and I will do our utmost to keep you safe.”
“Who is Kamel?”
“He is Ibrahim’s chief eunuch and master of the harem. We were friends before I joined Prince Dariq in exile. I suspect the reason Saliha Sultana still lives is because of the power Kamel wields.”
Willow was overcome with gratitude. The knowledge that she would have someone she knew in the sultan’s seraglio raised her spirits. “I thank you, Ali Hara, and welcome your company.”
The Revenge loomed large in the harbor. The crew was preparing the ship for immediate departure when Willow, Mustafa and Ali Hara boarded. Willow was escorted to the captain’s cabin, the same one she had occupied the last time she had sailed aboard the Revenge as Dariq’s prisoner.
Despite her sense of doing the right thing, Willow began to have second thoughts. Had she acted rashly? There were so many things that could go wrong, she began to wonder why she had let Mustafa talk her into betraying Dariq. Even though she was saving Dariq’s life, she knew he would be furious. And not just with her. Mustafa and all those involved would suffer his wrath; she didn’t envy them.
Exhausted after a night of no sleep, Willow walked to the bed and sat down. She glanced out the window and saw the first purple streaks of dawn. Then she felt the ship slip from her moorings and move slowly away from the harbor.