Enchantress

by Constance O'Banyon

  There was no response, and she moved back, resting her head against the chair, too weary to think. Her eyes fluttered shut and she fell asleep.

  The quiet of the early morning was interrupted by the sound of an anchor grinding into place. The sails of the majestic Victorious caught the stiff breeze as she put out to sea. Her captain stood at the helm, his sure hands guiding her out of the harbor.

  Cappy stood beside Thorn, his eyes watchful, repeating his captain’s spoken commands to the crew. Within an hour, the Victorious caught the trade wind and moved swiftly out to open water.

  The first mate glanced at Thorn. “The port authorities told me that the Turkish ship left yesterday, Captain. But I wonder if she made her homeward journey, or if she is laying in wait for us somewhere.”

  “We shall assume that she is waiting for us, and act accordingly, Cappy. Post a twenty-four-hour watch.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “How is the woman?”

  “She hasn’t left Achmed’s bedside. She is very devoted to him.”

  Thorn was willing to admit that the woman had some human qualities. “Of course she is devoted to him and will nurse him back to health if possible. After all, if anything happens to the eunuch, who would take care of her needs? I have my doubts that she could function if she had to take care of herself.”

  “I think you misjudge her, Captain. I have seen enough to know she really cares about the eunuch.”

  “That is certain. As I pointed out, he is that woman’s fetch-and-carry boy.”

  Cappy watched his captain with a speculative eye. Although Thorn Stoddard was often with a pretty woman when they were in port, Cappy knew he did not have a very high opinion of females. But it seemed the captain was unusually harsh toward this one. The first mate knew Thorn’s bitterness had something to do with his stepmother, but he did not know the whole story.

  “In truth, Captain, our passenger isn’t a woman at all, but a very young girl. You see, she no longer wears that veil to cover her face, and I saw her. She sure is a pretty little thing. She has eyes that—”

  Thorn’s hands gripped the wheel, and the muscle in his jaw tightened into a hard line. For some reason he did not want to hear anything good about that woman. She had been nothing but trouble to him since the beginning. He had little doubt that she would continue to be an annoyance until he was rid of her.

  “Spare me, if you are going to sing her praises, Cappy. And, whether she be woman or girl, it’s all the same to me. Just see that she follows orders and keeps away from the men. I don’t want any more trouble from her.”

  “Aye,” Cappy agreed, wondering why Thorn was being so critical when this girl had proved herself to be bold-hearted. What was there about her that always seemed to provoke the captain?

  Thorn paused at the cabin where Achmed lay gravely wounded. Not bothering to knock, he opened the door and stepped inside. The waning light showed the vague outline of the eunuch where he lay on the bunk, so still and lifeless. Thorn’s eyes moved from the injured man to search the cabin for the woman, for he had been told she was there.

  In the half-light, he saw her in the straight-back chair, her head dropped to the side, obviously asleep. Her midnight-black hair spilled down her shoulders, almost to her waist. Cappy had been right, she was unveiled, and he was about to see her face for the first time.

  Excitement throbbed through his body as he stepped closer. He saw the gentle slope of her breasts as they rose and fell with her breathing, and her dainty hands were clasped together and rested in her lap.

  Stepping around the bunk, he did not see the table where the medicines had been placed until he had bumped into it and sent the contents crashing to the floor.

  Brittany jumped to her feet, instantly coming awake. With large, luminous eyes, she stared at Thorn Stoddard while he stared back at her. Those were the eyes of a seductress, an enchantress, but there was also uncertainty there.

  Thorn’s eyes moved over the slight figure who came only to his shoulder. She was not dressed in her usual heavy robe. Instead she wore a pale-blue French-style gown with butterflies embroidered along the hem. The high-waisted creation fit snugly above her firm, young breasts. It was what any young lady in a Charleston drawing room could have worn.

  Almost reluctantly, he raised his eyes to her face, his attention drawn first to her green eyes with their depth of intelligence far beyond her years.

  As if he had no will of his own, Thorn looked upon the face that had so bewitched Sultan Selim that he had sent his warships to capture her. Each of her features was perfectly formed, and, yes, it was a face that men would willingly fight and die for. The dark skin and hair seemed somehow out of place with the green eyes, but they only added to her overall mystique. She was breathtakingly beautiful, there was no denying that.

  “I…must have fallen asleep, Captain.” She glanced at Achmed. “He is still unconscious.”

  Her words did not penetrate Thorn’s consciousness because he was caught up in watching the way her long lashes swept her cheeks.

  Brittany was beginning to feel uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny. “Captain, I know Dr. Rutledge has done all he can for Achmed, but I am so fearful of his chance for survival. If only he would awaken.”

  “Have you rested?” Thorn asked, noting the faint circles under her eyes. “I mean other than sleeping in that chair. You should go to your cabin.”

  “I will not leave, for I could not rest if I were not with Achmed.”

  Thorn did not believe that a woman of the harem could be so devoted to a slave. He doubted her motives, and his voice grew hard. “Do you ever think of this man as other than a servant who grants your slightest request?”

  Now her gaze was cool. “Of course. Achmed is my friend. I have known him all my life. I have told you this before, but you choose not to believe me.”

  “Do you really cares what happens to him, or are you concerned that you will be without a servant if he dies?”

  Her eyes closed, and her feelings reeled from his bitterness. Until Brittany had met this man, she had never had such angry contempt directed at her, and she did not know how to deal with it. She turned away from him so he would not see the hurt in her eyes.

  “Do not concern yourself with my motives, Captain. If I am selfish or not, it is no concern of yours.”

  “You are right,” he answered. “Your motives are no concern to me, but your safety has become my concern, whether I want it to be or not.”

  She turned back to him. “I have not made you responsible for me.”

  He stared into the eyes that were so remarkable in depth and color that he could scarcely catch his breath. “Weigh this well: The moment you stepped on this ship, you became my charge, just as everyone else on board the Victorious is in my care.”

  She raised her chin. “As soon as we reach land, I will be glad to remove myself and Achmed from your ship, this releasing you of our tiresome presence.”

  He smiled, but not with amusement. “You cannot look forward to that event more than I. When next we put ashore, you will step on American soil and out of my life.”

  “What have I done to make you angry with me? Achmed told me he has paid for our passage. I understand you have been through much because of me, but it was hardly my fault.”

  He was startled for a moment. “Have I said that I was angry with you?”

  “Do you always treat people with such disrespect, or do you reserve your ill temper for women alone?”

  Thorn and Brittany stared at each other long and hard. “Perhaps I reserve my ill temper for tempestuous young women who act like queens, when, in truth, they are little more than women of the street.” He reached forward and touched the huge emerald at her neck. “Only your price sets you apart from the common harlot.”

  Brittany gasped at his insult. The eyebrows arched above the green eyes that sparked with anger. “How dare you speak to me thus.” She took the several steps that brought her closer to A
chmed. “I do not ever wish to talk to you again, Captain Stoddard. You may leave.”

  He gave her a curt nod. “Just see that you stay out of my way.” He turned on his heels and left, closing the door behind him.

  Once he was outside, he paused to look out to sea, knowing that he had hurt the girl, and wondering what there was about her that made him so angry. Why should he care that the Grand Vizier was her lover? Why did he resent the fact that she appeared so young and innocent, when he knew she was not?

  Thorn stared into the distance where frothy white clouds billowed across the endless sky. He did not even know anything about her. Why did she have to be so damned beautiful, and why could he not cleanse his mind of her?

  He turned back with the intention of returning to the cabin and apologizing for his harsh words, but at that moment, Cappy called to him. He would apologize to her later, for he had been too harsh with her. But why?

  “Did you see the girl?” Cappy asked, turning the helm over to his captain.

  “I saw her,” came Thorn’s curt reply.

  “And?”

  “Don’t you have duties to perform, Mr. Hamish?”

  Brittany bent down to pick up the medicine bottles the captain had knocked over. She righted the table and then moved to sit beside Achmed. When she sank down in the hard chair, she felt as if her heart had been bruised by the captain’s unflattering assessment of her character. She hated the lie that stood between them. Most of all, she resented his judging her without knowing her.

  What right did he have to accuse her so harshly? Anger still burned within her. What did it matter what this American thought of her? They would soon part company, and she would never have to see him again.

  She moved forward, placing a cool hand on Achmed’s fevered brow, wishing he would awaken. He would know how to advise her. She had never been allowed to make decisions on her own. She certainly did not know how to deal with men like Captain Thorn Stoddard.

  The door opened and Brittany jumped to her feet, thinking it would be the captain returning. She was relieved when the kindly Dr. Rutledge smiled at her from beneath shaggy eyebrows.

  “How is our patient this afternoon?”

  Brittany shook her head. “There has been no change in his condition, Dr. Rutledge. What can this mean?”

  The doctor moved to Achmed’s side and raised a limp wrist, placing his thumb down on the pressure point. “It means that he has been gravely injured and his body is resting so it can heal itself.”

  “Will Achmed live, Doctor?” she asked with hope in her heart.

  “I cannot say, little lady. I’ve done all that I can to help him; now he is in God’s hands.”

  “What are his chances of regaining consciousness?” she pressed, needing an answer.

  He shrugged. “I can tell you no more than I have. He was badly injured, and it could go either way with him. Why don’t you go to your cabin and get some rest.”

  “I cannot leave him.”

  The doctor smiled kindly. “I will sit with him for a while. I’ll call you if there is any change.”

  She nodded reluctantly. “If it will satisfy you, I will go and refresh myself and rest for a short while.” She moved across the cabin and paused at the door. “You will let me know right away if he needs me?”

  “I will.”

  Brittany left the cabin, unaware that hostile Turkish eyes watched her from the shadows at the far end of the corridor.

  On Admiral Kainardji’s orders, the man, Jah, had managed to sneak on board the Victorious just before she had put to sea. He had been hiding in the hold so he would not be discovered, for he had a mission to fulfill.

  Admiral Kainardji had decided that if he could not take the daughter of the English Rose back to the sultan, perhaps he could redeem himself in the sultan’s eyes by reporting that the girl was dead!

  Jah had been waiting for the opportunity to present itself to carry out the admiral’s order. He watched the girl go into a cabin and close the door behind her. Now he knew where to find her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brittany had stripped down to her thin chemise, trying to find some relief from the oppressive heat. There was not a breath of air stirring. The sails of the Victorious hung limp while she drifted upon the calm, silvery ribbon of sea. A poignant silence hung heavy in the air as though a grim prediction of things to come.

  Brittany had bathed in cool water, then reapplied the dark stain to her skin. She lay down on her bunk, with the intention of resting for only a moment, because she did not want to stay away from Achmed for very long. He might be concerned if he awakened and she was not beside him.

  The lantern flickered low, and she closed her eyes, drifting off into a world of dreams, where there was no hurt and no uncertainty about the future.

  Suddenly Brittany was not alone in her dream. She felt a firm hand clasp hers, and she glanced into the angry blue eyes of Captain Thorn Stoddard.

  She felt as if the air was trapped in her lungs; she could scarcely draw a deep breath. She pressed forward until her body was touching with full length of the captain’s, and she saw his blue eyes swirling with passion. She was overwhelmed by the first stirring of womanhood that sprung to life within her young body.

  Brittany was aware that she was dreaming and that the Thorn Stoddard in her dream did not exist. She wanted to hold on to her fantasy world, but even now it was fading. So this was what it felt like to desire a man. The women of the harem had told her about the strong feelings between a man and woman; now she understood the depths of such feelings.

  Brittany was jarred awake by a sudden feeling of unrest. Had it been a sound that had awakened her? She raised up on her elbows, her heart beating with some unknown dread. The lantern flickered low and almost went out, casting the far corner of the room in shadow.

  Even if she could not see anyone, she felt an ominous presence in the room with her.

  Slowly she swung her legs off the bed, wondering if she dared make a dash for the door. She paused. Was she being foolish or was there really someone in here with her? She listened. Was that breathing she heard or was it the beating of her own heart?

  “I have found you at last,” a strange voice spoke to her in Turkish.

  She stood as if frozen, when a dark-skinned man stepped into the ring of light. “You may be in disguise, but I know you are the daughter of the English Rose.”

  “Who…are you?” She cringed in terror. “What are you doing in my cabin?”

  “I am the man who has been sent by Admiral Kainardji to end your life. After all the trouble you have caused, did you expect to escape?” He moved closer to her. “Do not scream or make a sound. I am an experienced assassin, and I can slit your throat without you even feeling it.”

  Brittany made a quick lunge for the door, but the man had anticipated her movement and intercepted her before she reached freedom.

  Hard, cruel hands bit into her tender flesh, and she looked into sadistic black eyes that were hardly visible beneath dark, heavy eyebrows.

  The assassin’s thin lips became even thinner when he smiled. “Would you fly away, little bird, before I discovered what there is about you that makes the sultan desire you so? Some say your mother is the weaver of magic spells. Are you the same as she?”

  Brittany drew back in fear, not daring to look again into those pitiless eyes. “What…will you do to me?”

  His eyes moved down her throat to fasten on her young breasts that were visible through her thin chemise. “Before I carry out my master’s orders, I will taste the delights of your body, daughter of the English Rose. Perhaps you will make me as happy as your mother makes the Grand Vizier.”

  “No,” she whispered through trembling lips.

  “Yes,” he said, running his hand across her breasts. “I die today, too, little rose, because I cannot leave this ship alive, but I die with the taste of you on my mouth.”

  Unleashed fear gnawed at her insides. This man wanted more than
her life, and much more than she was willing to give. She lashed out at him, her flying hand catching hard across his jaw!

  For a moment she thought he would release her, but he muttered an oath, and his grip tightened even more. She cringed as the rough hands with black hair on the knuckles moved up her leg, bringing her chemise up to her thigh.

  “No,” she cried, struggling against his superior strength. “Let me go!”

  “We shall be together in death this day,” he muttered, his lips traveling down her throat.

  Her reaction was swift and accurate. As she struck out at him a second time, the slap she delivered to his face rang across the cabin.

  Now the man’s anger was out of control. He shoved her down on the floor, his fumbling hands tearing at her clothing. He was so caught up in his anger and passion that he did not hear the door open behind him—he did not see the captain of the Victorious with a murderous glint in his eyes.

  Brittany stared into Thorn Stoddard’s blue eyes, and a whimper escaped her lips. “Help me,” she cried piteously. “Please help me.”

  The Turk suddenly released his hold on Brittany and jumped to his feet. He swiftly turned on Thorn, brandishing an evil-looking, broad-blade scimitar.

  With a swift reflex, Thorn gripped the arm that held the blade. For long moments, the two men pitted their raw strength against each other. At times the sharp blade would come close to Thorn’s throat, then he would push it away and the Turk would have to hold it away from his own throat.

  Brittany watched in horror as the two men struggled for supremacy. She feared for the captain’s life because the Turk was a trained killer. The assassin’s bulging muscles quivered as he twisted the blade and thrust it toward Thorn’s exposed chest. In a swift and lethal motion, Thorn sidestepped the thrust and yanked his foe forward, plunging the blade of the scimitar into the Turk’s chest.

  For a moment there was a startled expression on the Turk’s face, then a look of disbelief twisted his features. With blood streaming down his dark skin, he fell to his knees, the sword still embedded in his chest.