The Pirate Prince

by Connie Mason

“You must love the lady a great deal.”

  “I … cannot explain my feelings, Mother. They are still too raw. Did Mustafa not tell you I intended to return Willow to her father and offer myself to Ibrahim instead?”

  “Ibrahim seemed quite pleased with Lady Willow.”

  A low growl rose up from Dariq’s throat. “The bastard! If he hurts her, I will kill him.”

  “Kamel and Ali Hara will protect her.”

  “Can they keep her from Ibrahim’s bed?”

  Saliha’s silver eyes mirrored Dariq’s sadness. “That is something I cannot promise.”

  “Willow is mine,” Dariq snarled. “After I made her mine, I realized I could not part with her. The dilemma I faced was heart-wrenching. I had but two choices. Carry out my original plan to trade Willow for you, or abandon you to Ibrahim’s caprices. My third and final choice was to sacrifice my own life for the two women I love and admire above all others.”

  “Mustafa told me you found Lady Willow aboard a Turkish ship bound for Istanbul,” Saliha confided. “She was already destined for Ibrahim’s harem when you took her off the ship.”

  “Yes, I finally had someone Ibrahim wanted enough to trade for you. And then …” He turned away, unable to continue.

  “And then you fell in love with her and could not bear the thought of Ibrahim bedding her.”

  “I suppose,” Dariq allowed.

  “What do you intend to do?”

  Dariq looked at her as if she were mad. “I am going after Willow, of course. Do I have any other choice? Willow would wither and die hidden behind the walls of a harem.”

  “What if Ibrahim has already taken her to his bed? Would you still want her?”

  “What a silly question, Mother. I will always want Willow, regardless of what has been done to her. She is mine,” he repeated fiercely.

  Saliha rose and placed a hand on his arm. “You go to your death if you return to Isbanbul.”

  Dariq sent her a grim smile. “Not if I use stealth and cunning. I am not without resources.”

  Tears moistened the corners of Saliha’s eyes. “I fear I will never see you again, my son.”

  “Pray to your God, Mother, and if He wills it, we will meet again. Meanwhile, you will sail aboard the Hunter to my stronghold and wait for my return. You will want for naught there.”

  “How do you intend to enter Istanbul without being recognized?”

  “I plan to anchor in a small secluded cove south of Istanbul harbor. I have friends in a village nearby who will lend me a horse and anything else I might need. From there I will make my way to the city.”

  “I will pray for you, for I know you will not be dissuaded. Go find your lady, my son, and God protect you.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I have unfinished business to settle with Mustafa first. As long as you are praying, pray that I can hold my temper long enough to speak coherently. What I really want to do is wring his ugly neck.”

  “Mustafa is the best friend you have ever had,” Saliha scolded. “He would give up his life for you.”

  “He took something from me that I value more than my life or his,” Dariq shot back. Then he turned on his heel and stormed out the door.

  Dariq found Mustafa leaning against the rail, staring at the Hunter as she rode gracefully alongside the Revenge.

  “I am taking charge of the Revenge,” Dariq said without preamble. “You are to accompany my mother to Lipsi aboard the Hunter. Stay there until I return.”

  Mustafa spat out a curse. “Fool! You will die. What you are attempting is impossible.”

  “My life is my own to do with as I please. Do not discredit my cunning, Mustafa. I intend to bring Willow and myself safely back to Lipsi.”

  “And if you do not return?”

  Dariq stared off into space. “Then you and the Brotherhood will go on without me, and you will protect my mother until the end of her days in reparation for your betrayal.”

  “What I did was not betrayal. Protecting you has been and always will be my duty.”

  “Now you have a new duty.” Dariq turned to leave.

  Mustafa drew himself up to his enormous height. “I will not leave you, my prince. Where you go, I will follow. I will protect you with my life as I have always done. Others can protect your mother.” He poked his chest with a thick finger. “I will stay with you.”

  “After what you did, how can I trust you?”

  “I did naught but what your lady wanted. She wanted your death no more than I did.”

  “You should have denied her!” Dariq shouted. “Willow is a woman, with a woman’s compassion. She sacrificed her own life to save mine.”

  “Ibrahim will not harm her.”

  “How can you say that with any certainty?”

  Mustafa smiled. “My time in Istanbul was not wasted. I learned that the bulk of Ibrahim’s army is fighting in Poland. The war to conquer countries in the north is not going well. The seers say defeat is inevitable, and predict the end of the great Ottoman Empire as we know it.”

  Dariq stroked his chin. “Interesting, but I have little faith in seers or their predictions. Besides, what does that have to do with Ibrahim’s interest in Willow?”

  “Think about it, Prince. Ibrahim has been meeting daily with the Grand Vizier and members of his war council, often long into the night. How much energy can he have left for his concubines?”

  “If Ibrahim’s army is defeated, his future will be dark,” Dariq said thoughtfully. “I will consider this news when I formulate a plan to rescue Willow.”

  “I will see Saliha Sultana safely aboard the Hunter and return. If you are bent upon this disastrous course to rescue your lady, I will attempt to redeem myself for what you perceive as my betrayal.”

  Dariq searched Mustafa’s face. Since Dariq had escaped Ibrahim’s devious plan to end his life, Mustafa had never left his side, never given Dariq a moment’s doubt about his loyalty. Until now. Mustafa had nearly destroyed a friendship of long standing. Grudgingly, Dariq admitted that Mustafa hadn’t betrayed him; he had simply tried to protect Dariq in his own way.

  “Could I refuse you even if I wanted to?” Dariq asked. “Nay,” he answered his own question. “Like a dog with a bone, you will not give up. Doubtless you will find a way to follow me even if I send you away.”

  Crossing his arms over his burly chest, Mustafa grinned. “You will not be sorry, Prince. I will always be with you to protect your back. I know I have offended you and ask your forgiveness; I did not realize how much the woman meant to you. If we do not succeed, we will die as we have lived … together.”

  “No one will die,” Dariq said fiercely. “I will fetch my mother and make her comfortable aboard the Hunter. Then we shall sail for Turkey.”

  Willow lived in fear every day she remained in the harem. She might have a month’s reprieve from Ibrahim’s bed, but his concubines did not welcome her. They viewed her as a rival for the sultan’s affections and made her life miserable. Hetice, the harem mistress, assigned her the smallest cubicle in the vast warren of rooms that made up the harem. If not for Kamel, who maintained order with an iron fist, and Ali Hara, her self-proclaimed protector, she would have not lasted a fortnight.

  One of the things that Willow learned was that poison was readily available, and that Ibrahim’s favorites often died under mysterious circumstances. Of the thirty women in the harem, Willow trusted Umma the least. The fiery, dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty aspired to become Ibrahim’s first wife and eyed the competition with mistrust and hatred.

  Willow’s blond hair set her apart from the other women, most of whom were daughters of pashas and high-ranking officials who wished to gain favor with the Ottoman ruler. Despite the sultan’s numerous concubines, he had sired no children.

  Ibrahim’s childless state caused a great deal of turmoil within the harem. Each woman wanted to be the first to give Ibrahim the heir he desired. That woman would be elevated to the honored position of wife, a highly coveted statu
s within the harem.

  Willow was pacing her tiny room when Ali Hara arrived with a tray of food. “I tasted everything myself and watched it being prepared,” the eunuch said as placed the tray on a low table. “ ’Tis neither foul-tasting nor poisoned.”

  Willow sent him a wobbly smile. “I do not know what I would do without you, Ali Hara. My month of reprieve is nearly up. What am I to do? My link with the moon has been broken; my courses have not arrived, and you know what that means. Hetice will tell Ibrahim, and disaster will follow.”

  She gazed longingly out the window. “I knew before I left Lipsi that there was a chance I carried Dariq’s child, but I was willing to tempt fate for Dariq’s sake.”

  Ali Hara stroked his smooth chin. “Kamel and I have already discussed such a possibility. We’ve decided that one of us should cut himself and stain your clothing with blood. When you ask Hetice for cloths, she will tell Ibrahim. Twill gain you a few days reprieve, at least.”

  “I need more than a few days,” Willow lamented.

  “Listen carefully, lady,” Ali Hara whispered as he checked the door to see if anyone was listening. “Ibrahim is upset over losing Poland. He meets long into the night with the Grand Vizier and war council. Perchance matters of state will take precedence over bedding you. But if they do not, you must go to the sultan when he sends for you.”

  “What?” Willow cried, aghast. “I will die if he touches me.”

  “You will die if you refuse him. Kamel and I will do what we can to protect you, but no one defies Ibrahim.” He glanced at the closed door and lowered his voice until Willow could barely hear him. “He has arrived.”

  “Who has arrived?”

  “Prince Dariq.”

  “Oh, no! How could he be so foolish? Please tell me he is not in Istanbul.”

  “Not yet, but Kamel’s cousin received word that his ship is docked in a secluded cove south of the city.”

  “What does he hope to gain by coming here?”

  “How can you ask that question, lady? He has come for you.”

  “Does he not realize that death awaits him here?”

  “A man in love follows his heart, not his head.”

  “Love? Dariq doesn’t love me. He has spoken no words to indicate that he has such strong feelings for me.”

  “A man willing to sacrifice his own life for a woman does so out of love, just as you were willing to sacrifice yourself for love. Think about it, lady.”

  Willow did think about it, and Ali Hara’s deduction made sense, but she dared not pin her hopes on Dariq’s ability to rescue her from a harem guarded by armed janizaries.

  “Tell Kamel I wish to send a message to Dariq. I do not want him risking his life on my behalf. I can endure anything as long as I know that he lives, and that his mother is safe.”

  Ali Hara bowed. “I will do as you ask, lady, but my prince will do as he wishes. Now, give me one of your garments.”

  Willow chose a skirt from a chest and handed it to the eunuch. She winced when he raised his sleeve and used her fruit knife to cut into his flesh, smearing blood onto the delicate cloth.

  “I will inform Hetice that you need supplies for your personal care,” Ali Hara said as he used a napkin to bind his arm and pulled his sleeve down to cover the minor wound.

  “Thank you,” Willow whispered. “I am deeply grateful for what you are doing to gain me time. I cannot bear the thought of being summoned to Ibrahim’s bed.” Deep in thought, she chewed on her bottom lip. “Perhaps I can develop a fever later, and who knows what else I can come up with? My greatest fear is that Dariq will not survive this rescue attempt.”

  “My prince is well aware of the danger,” Ali Hara said in parting.

  Hetice arrived a short time later with the cloths. “So,” she said, eyeing Willow with suspicion, “your courses have finally arrived. Lady Umma hoped you were carrying Prince Dariq’s child. My lady Umma wishes to be the first to bear Ibrahim a son.”

  “I want naught to do with Ibrahim,” Willow said. “I would be eternally grateful if you could keep me out of his bed.”

  Hetice, a haughty woman of middle years, had taken charge of the harem after Saliha Sultana left, and she had her favorites. Willow was not one of them.

  “You are a stupid woman,” Hetice said, “Are you not aware of the power you would wield and the gifts you would receive as the mother of Ibrahim’s son? To conceive Ibrahim’s heir is the dearest wish of every woman in the harem.”

  “ ’Tis not mine,” Willow declared. “Leave me—I wish to be alone.”

  Hetice tossed a pile of cloths upon the narrow bed. “Ali Hara said you had need of these. Rest assured that I will inform Ibrahim of this new development.”

  “Good,” Willow muttered.

  Hetice stared at Willow for the span of a heartbeat, then turned on her heel and departed.

  Dariq’s ship lay at anchor in a secluded cove, invisible to all who did not know of its existence. Dariq had discovered the cove during his exile and had allies living in a nearby village. After disembarking, the first thing he did was to dispatch a sailor to the village to secure three horses, for himself, Mustafa and the sailor, whom he intended to send to Istanbul with a message for Kamel via his cousin Hassan.

  The sailor returned with the horses, then mounted one and left immediately for Istanbul. Dariq and Mustafa left soon afterward and were welcomed by Yusuf, a horse trader and ally of Dariq’s, who lived with his wife in the village.

  “ ’Tis a long time, my lord Prince,” Yusuf said, making his obeisance. “Please enter my humble abode; Farah has prepared a meal for you and your lieutenant.”

  Dariq and Mustafa bent beneath the low portal and entered the two-room hut, fragrant with cooking smells. Yusuf seated Dariq with a flourish, and Farah, her face flushed with pleasure, served the well-seasoned meal of chicken, rice, dates, figs and a sticky-sweet desert that earned a flurry of compliments.

  Once Farah left the room, the conversation turned serious.

  “Have you heard aught of a woman with golden hair that Ibrahim has added to his harem? Her name is Willow,” Dariq said.

  “Aye, who has not? ’Tis said that Ibrahim hopes for an heir from her. None of his concubines has quickened with child.”

  Dariq swallowed a groan. The thought of Ibrahim’s hands on Willow nearly brought him to his knees. He shook his head to clear it of painful thoughts and said, “Perhaps the fault lies with Ibrahim.”

  Yusuf grinned. “So it is said. But there are rumors that Lady Umma wishes to be the first to bear Ibrahim a son, and has taken steps to ensure that she is.”

  “Have you heard aught of Willow’s well-being?”

  “We do not get much news here, but I have heard naught to suggest she is not well. Ibrahim is much involved with other matters right now. His army is being driven from Poland, and he fears his empire is in danger of collapsing.”

  Dariq’s relief was palpable. Perhaps Willow had escaped Ibrahim’s attention.

  “I need to get inside the seraglio,” he said urgently.

  “Why do you wish to expose yourself to danger, my lord Prince?” Yusuf asked.

  “Ibrahim has my woman, and I want her back.”

  “The golden-haired woman belongs to you? Allah help you. What you plan involves great risk.”

  “I understand the risk, but it matters not. I know you are allowed to pass through the gates into the courtyard to sell and trade your horses, for I’ve seen you there many times in the past.”

  “Aye, ’tis true enough,” Yusuf allowed. “What can I do to help you?”

  “When do you plan another trip to the city?”

  Yusuf stroked his beard. “Tomorrow or the day after. I have some prime horseflesh to sell.”

  “Excellent!” Dariq eyed Mustafa speculatively. “Mustafa can travel with you, for if he were seen with me, we might be recognized. I shall depart a day before you and Mustafa, and go directly to Hassan the carpet trader’s stall. I will ask hi
m to bring Kamel to me.”

  “What are your intentions, Prince?” Mustafa asked. “You do not plan to enter the seraglio alone, do you? ’Twould be suicide.”

  “I will make plans after I speak with Kamel. If there is a way to see Willow, I will find it.” His chin rose defiantly. “I will rescue Willow, Mustafa, or die trying.”

  “Do not treat death so lightly, my lord, for the end result is permanent.”

  “I know, but give me some credit. I am not a careless man.”

  Mustafa snorted. “When one is in love, one tends to think irrationally.”

  When Dariq sent him a warning look, Mustafa quickly dropped the subject.

  Dariq returned his attention to Yusuf. “Can you bring horses to Istanbul for me, Mustafa and my lady? And Mustafa and I will need clothing to disguise us as humble farmers.”

  The clothing that Yusuf provided Dariq and Mustafa met with their approval. Dressed in drab robes and dingy turbans, the two were unrecognizable as a prince and his lieutenant.

  Dariq left the following morning after a satisfying breakfast, carrying food that Farah had prepared for him to consume along the way. Mustafa and Yusuf were to follow the next day and meet Dariq at Hassan’s stall in the souk.

  Dariq entered the city without being recognized and rode through the winding streets of the market, where the stalls were just closing for the day. Dariq lowered his head when a patrol of janizaries marched past him, and he remained watchful as he plodded on. Being recognized now would be disastrous.

  The relentless sun was sinking and the marketplace emptying of people. Dariq sniffed appreciatively of the rich odors of spices, ripe fruit, and the pungent scent of freshly killed and drawn animals.

  When Dariq bought a meat-filled pita and ate it while he wandered past stalls displaying glittering jewels, colorful silks and other merchandise arranged to catch the eye of a shopper. When he found the carpet trader’s stall, he waited until Hassan’s last customer wandered off.

  Hassan turned to him with a smile. “How may I help you, my good man?”

  “ ’Tis I, Hassan—Prince Dariq.”