Enchantress

by Constance O'Banyon

  “That is one of the thing that intrigues me about her.”

  “But, Your Majesty, with the rest of the world watching, and comparing you with your uncle, you need to be a strong leader, and one the European countries will respect. It must not look like any woman is too important to you. It must appear that you are buried in matters of state.”

  For a moment the sultan’s eyes gleamed with the feeling of power, then he smiled. “You are very clever, Lord Simijin. But take care that you are not too clever. There are many worthy men who covet the title of Grand Vizier. Before he died, my uncle told me to put my trust in you and heed your advice. I will listen to you in all matters of state, but I will also have this girl. Have a care that I do not strip you of your office,” he threatened with a gleam in his eyes. “You could be replaced with a more…loyal subject, shall we say.”

  Simijin bowed from the waist. “That is Your Majesty’s right.”

  Selim moved across the room and turned at the door with a menacing snarl on his thick lips. “I will have the daughter of the English Rose, Lord Simijin, for I have my heart set on her.”

  After the sultan had gone, Simijin rushed to Jillianna, because he knew she had been listening to his confrontation with the sultan. He was worried about her. She was going to need his strength in the weeks ahead until they learned Brittany’s fate.

  Brittany felt the heat pressing in on her, and she was having difficulty breathing. She was in total darkness, and she was frightened. She had always been pampered and protected, and had never known the word fear until today. Now she was on board a ship that was headed to a country she had only read about in books.

  “Little mistress,” the dear, familiar voice of Achmed cut through her fears, “I am going to help you out of the crate now, but you must be very quiet.”

  When the lid was ripped open, she drew in a deep breath and blinked her eyes until they became accustomed to the dim light. Achmed helped Brittany to her feet, but she had to lean on him for support since her legs felt as they would not hold her upright.

  Brittany glanced about her. There were crates, barrels, and boxes, as well as coils of rope and extra canvas for sails. It was damp here, and she shivered.

  “I am hungry, Achmed. I hope you have brought me something to eat.”

  “I will return shortly with food. I first wanted to get you out of the crate.” He led her over to the steps and guided her into the shadows. “Stay hidden until I return,” he warned. “Do not come out unless you know I have returned.”

  The ship swayed and rocked, and she leaned back against a barrel, trying to keep her balance. “Are we underway, Achmed?”

  “Yes, mistress.” He moved up the steps and called over his shoulder. “I will return quickly.”

  Brittany sank to her knees, too weary to stand. This had been the worst day of her life, and she shuddered to think what lay ahead of her. Each swaying of the ship took her farther away from her mother and Simijin.

  True to his word, it was but a short time later when Achmed reappeared. “I have brought you food, little mistress, and it looks edible. I am sure it is not pheasant, but it appears to be some kind of fowl.” He smiled. “It will surely fill an empty stomach.”

  He dusted off a barrel for her to sit on, and watched as she picked up a slice of the meat and tasted it. Wrinkling her nose with loathing, Brittany said, “Achmed, perhaps I am not so hungry after all. This does not have a pleasant taste.”

  “You will find that ship food does not compare with the diet you are accustomed to eating. Whatever it is, you must eat, mistress, for we do not know what is ahead of us.”

  Nodding her head in understanding, she managed to take several mouthfuls before she handed it back to Achmed. “I suppose I am too miserable to eat. I am worried about my mother.”

  Suddenly Achmed tensed. “Shh,” he whispered, waving her back into the shadows. She ducked behind a wooden crate just as heavy footsteps dropped down from the rope ladder. She hugged the darkness as Achmed blew out the candle, and they were enveloped in total darkness.

  A crewman appeared, carrying a lantern which flickered eerily across the walls and danced drunkenly to lighten darkened corners. From their hiding place, Achmed and Brittany watched the man stow a small crate and then move back up the steps. When his footsteps faded away, Brittany breathed in a sigh of relief.

  “How long must I remain in this place and hide from the captain and crew?” she asked wearily.

  “A few more days. Once we are far enough out to sea so it will be impractical for the captain to return, only then shall we reveal your presence.”

  Thorn stood at the wheel, expertly maneuvering the Victorious through the treacherous waters of the Golden Horn.

  For some reason he had grown weary of the sea, and more and more he was becoming dissatisfied with his life. Lately his thoughts were often of his father, and Thorn wondered if he ever regretted the harsh words that had passed between them the night Thorn had left the family plantation, Stoddard Hill.

  His mother had died when Thorn was just a young boy, so he and his father had become very close—at least until trouble had torn them apart—trouble in the guise of a woman. His mind traveled backward to the night it had all begun…

  The ball had been held at the Burke mansion, and everyone in the county was in attendance. Thorn had just returned from a grand tour of Europe. He was basking in the attention of every available female, dancing with them all, old and young, while his father looked proudly upon his only son’s popularity.

  Thorn had paused to catch his breath, when he looked up winding stairs to see a beautiful woman smiling down at him. Her name was Wilhelmina; her hair was black, and her skin soft and white. Even to this day, Thorn could not recall the color of her eyes, but she had the face of an angel.

  Like a man in a trance, he gravitated toward her. As she came into his arms, he danced her across the room, discovering that she was a distant relation to the Burkes. They danced the rest of the evening, and later she walked with him in the garden. She had seemed shy and innocent, and that night he fell in love for the first time.

  After that night, Thorn and Wilhelmina were together every day, and he was beginning to think of marriage and even children. Then one night they had walked in the garden, and she had allowed Thorn to kiss her. He remembered fearing he would frighten her with his unleashed passion.

  How could he have known that Wilhelmina was not the innocent she pretended to be? That night she had taken his hand and led him to a distant part of the garden. With her breath coming out in short gasps and her eyes gleaming with desire, she lifted her gown and took his hand, placing it on her thigh.

  He remembered being shocked by her boldness, but he had been too swept along by his desire to care. All he knew was that he had to have her.

  She unfastened his trousers, and handled his throbbing manhood until he was almost mindless. She pulled him down to the ground, lifted her skirt, and straddled him. He slipped easily inside her, for she was no virgin, as he had thought…

  Thorn balled his hands into fists. How little he had known about a woman’s deceitfulness at that time. He could still see the moonlight shining on Wilhelmina’s face, while her eyes were glazed and half-closed…

  “Faster, faster,” she had breathed in his ear. “Go deeper. I want to feel all of you.”

  Suddenly his passion had cooled, to be replaced with a feeling of repugnance. All he wanted was to get away from her. There was something base and wicked about Wilhelmina, he could feel it. He was not to know just how evil she was until a year later.

  Wilhelmina had felt him withdrawing from her, and she protested. “What are you doing? You have not satisfied me yet. I thought you were a man, but perhaps I was mistaken.”

  His pride was wounded, and his prowess challenged. “Perhaps I am not versed enough in the ways of the world to suit you,” he replied, moving her aside and standing up.

  “I could teach you,” she purred. “You exc
ite me as no man ever has.” She reached up and touched him intimately. “I could show you how to please me.”

  He had helped her to her feet. “Yes, I daresay you could. But I’m just not interested.”

  Her eyes took on a cruel glint. “I was under the impression you wanted to marry me; was I mistaken?”

  He shook his head. “I do not believe we are right for one another.”

  “I have told all my friends that we are to be married. Will you make a laughingstock of me?”

  “I do not recall that we discussed marriage.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “You are angry because I have been with other men.” Her laughter rang out. “I have been with more men than you can count. You were such an innocent, you could not guess that I wanted you to make love to me that first night we met. You cannot know what torment I have been in, wanting you to make love to me.”

  He tried to shake off his disgust. “Perhaps we should both forget that tonight happened. I know I intend to.”

  “You men are all alike,” she whispered through stiff lips. “You blame a woman for doing what you do and call her a whore, while you are proud of your accomplishments with the very women you condemn.”

  He stepped away from her, wanting to put some distance between them. “I do not think—”

  She held up her hand to silence him. “No, men never do think.”

  “I am sorry this had to happen,” he said, regretfully.

  Suddenly she surprised him with a smile. “Do not reproach yourself, Thorn. I always get what I want in the end—you will see.”

  She straightened her gown and patted her hair into place. “I was leaving for Savannah in the morning anyway, and this was to be my little going away gift to you.” Her eyes became hard and cold. “Can I assume you are a gentleman and will not mention what happened between us tonight?”

  “Yes, you can assume that.”

  Thorn was numb, but also relieved that she would be leaving Charleston. He hoped he would never have to see her again, but he had not reasoned with Wilhelmina’s strong drive for vengeance.

  How could he guess that Wilhelmina would one day come back into his life. It was but one year from the day she left Charleston that she married Thorn’s father. It did not matter that she was twenty years younger than his father; all she cared about was getting even with Thorn.

  Thorn’s world had been shattered the day his father brought Wilhelmina to Stoddard Hill as his wife. “I know you were fond of her at one time, Son. Now she will be your stepmother, and we will have her in our family.”

  Thorn was sick inside, knowing that she was making a fool of his father. Wilhelmina knew that Thorn could never tell his father that his new bride was not the innocent she pretended to be.

  As the weeks passed, Wilhelmina took pleasure in flaunting her indiscretions in Thorn’s face, as if daring him to tell his father. She was a brazen creature, but Thorn managed to avoid her whenever possible. And he made sure he never saw her without his father being present.

  One night when his father had been away from home, Wilhelmina came to Thorn’s bedroom. In a cold voice, he ordered her to leave, but she merely laughed at him.

  She slipped out of her dressing gown and stood naked before him. Anger burned inside him as she walked toward him slowly.

  “I told you I always get what I want, Thorn. Are your dreams haunted by the thought of me lying in your father’s arms? Do you desire me?” she taunted.

  He scooped up her dressing gown and threw it at her. “I am merely disgusted by you, Wilhelmina. Have you no feelings of regret for what you have done?”

  Her eyes sparkled with the light of madness. “No, no regrets…save one. I still desire you.” She crept across the room, moving her hips sensuously, and his eyes fastened on her creamy breasts. He hated himself because she still sparked desire within his body.

  “Get out,” he growled as she slid her arms about his neck.

  It was at that moment that the bedroom door was torn open and Thorn looked up to see his father standing there. He would never forget the stricken look on his face.

  He could still remember the anger in his father’s voice as he had accused him of seducing his innocent wife. Thorn had not told his father that Wilhelmina had come to his room, nor had he told him that she had been with every man at Stoddard Hill from the stable boy to the overseer. By his silence that night, Thorn had taken the blame for Wilhelmina.

  His father had ordered him to leave Stoddard Hill that night, and Thorn had not been back since…

  Sometimes, even now, if Thorn closed his eyes, he could smell the freshly harvested hay, and hear the wind in the pine trees outside his bedroom window at Stoddard Hill. He had been only twenty when he left his home. How foolish he had been to allow lies and pride to come between him and his father.

  Lately, Thorn had been overcome with a strange loneliness. He wanted to gaze upon the land where he was born, the land where his mother had been buried. He had come to realize that his real love was for the land. He was no longer content with a seafaring life.

  Thorn had made up his mind that when the Victorious docked once more in Charleston Harbor, he was going home. His father might order him out of the house, but not before they cleared the air between them.

  Chapter Eight

  Brittany lay on the cushions that Achmed had arranged for her on the floor. Closing her eyes, she wished she was back home in her own bed at the palace. She missed her mother and ached for that which was familiar to her. She turned her face to watch the faithful Achmed, who was lying nearby, his eyes ever watchful in the event there should be any danger.

  “Achmed, are you sure the sultan will not take revenge on Mama and Simijin?”

  “The sultan may be a mad man, but he is not witless. He knows he would lose his head if he harmed Lord Simijin. The Janissaries, as well as the people of Constantinople, would rise up against him.”

  “How long do you think I will have to stay away before I can return home?”

  “I do not know, young mistress. When we get to America and we inform Lady Jillianna that you are safe, then she and Lord Simijin will inform us what to do.”

  “Achmed?”

  “Yes, little mistress.”

  “Thank you for accompanying me. I do not know what I would do without you.”

  “There is no place I would rather be, little mistress. Just know that you are safe while I am watching over you. Now, go to sleep, for nothing will harm you tonight.”

  Strangely enough, Brittany did fall asleep. She was rocked by the gentle swaying of the Victorious as the vessel made its way to open sea.

  The Victorious was a large frigate that had been in Thorn’s mother’s family for three generations. She had once been a warship and had seen many battles. Thorn’s uncle David, the previous captain, had joined the French Navy and quickly worked up to the rank of admiral. He had been a hero after sinking seven English ships.

  After the end of the war, Admiral Stone had rebuilt the Victorious for peacetime, and made her a merchant ship. Her forecastle deck had been removed to add cargo space, and she was enlisted in trade.

  Even so, the Victorious was still well equipped for combat. She had fourteen gun-ports on her main deck, and she supported three twenty-four-pounders, so if the need arose, she was able to do battle.

  Thorn would always be grateful to his uncle David for helping him through a very difficult time and helping him regain his self-respect. After leaving Stoddard Hill, Thorn had gone with his uncle David on his next voyage to France, and he took readily to the sea.

  Thorn had been devastated when his uncle died three years later. Having no sons of his own, David Stone had left a house in Charleston and the Victorious to Thorn, along with vast debts to pay, for David had lived a flamboyant life.

  For the past seven years, Thorn had struggled to keep the ship afloat. Perhaps after this voyage, he would have enough money to pay off the last of his uncle’s debts, and he would h
ave a clear title to the Victorious.

  It had been a long, hard struggle for Thorn to pay his uncle’s obligations; but he did it gladly, for he owed his uncle a debt that mere money could never repay.

  Thorn Stoddard had learned well from Admiral David Stone. Now his ability as a captain was legendary, and any would-be enemies had always given the Victorious a wide lane.

  Thorn stood on deck, keeping a trained eye on the heavy clouds gathering in the east. His instincts alerted him that there would be a storm sometime after nightfall. He wanted to be out of the Golden Horn and on the Sea of Marmora before the storm hit, to lessen the danger of being blown aground.

  Thorn glanced to his starboard side with little interest when the watch called down that three Turkish ships were closing in on the Victorious. The Golden Horn was the gateway to Constantinople; therefore, the lanes were always crowded with ships and he paid them little heed.

  By midday, a heavy wind was blowing out of the north, churning up the waves which reached for the sky and splashed over the sides of the Victorious.

  That was when Thorn realized that the three Turkish ships were heading their way—two of them were man-of-wars, while the third was a thirty-six-gun frigate.

  Because of the wind shift, Thorn changed directions, and it soon became apparent that the three ships also changed directions and were gaining on him.

  The Victorious neared the end of the Golden Horn, where the Turkish shoreline loomed just ahead, and a heavily armed fortress was perched on the highest cliff. Thorn knew he must pass within range of the shore batteries to reach open sea. Training his spyglass on the vessel that was immediately behind him, he saw that she carried the banner of the Turkish Navy.

  Again he changed directions and saw that the three ships did likewise.

  Thorn was beginning to have the uneasy feeling that he was being pursued, though he could not think why. It was at that point that one of the vessels fired a cannon shot over the bow of the Victorious, confirming his suspicions.