The Pirate Prince (9 page)

“I am going to remove your vest,” Dariq murmured.

He smothered her protests with a kiss while he effortlessly removed her vest and tossed it aside. She went still beneath him, which he took as a good sign. He didn’t want to frighten her; he just wanted to love her in every way except the one way he couldn’t.

Willow tried to shield her breasts, but Dariq wouldn’t allow it. He bore her down against the cushions and held her wrists above her head with one hand while he nibbled and suckled her nipples. He trembled with excitement and need. Just touching Willow like this drove him mad with wanting. It took all of his willpower to recall why she must remain virginal.

He unfastened her girdle and tossed it aside. He kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth in imitation of what he really wanted to do to her. He groaned as his cock lifted and filled with blood.

Suddenly he yelped and reared back. “Why in the name of Allah did you bite me?”

She gave him a smug smile. “I wanted you to know I am not a willing participant in what you are doing.”

“Do you know what would happen if you did that to Ibrahim?”

“He would not want me, which would suit me just fine.”

“You are naive if you think that. He would have you beaten, and then he would take you while you were too weak to resist. Or he would drug you into compliance.”

“Drug me?” Willow whispered. “He would do that?”

“Aye, he would, beauty. You would be fed something to make you so desperate for a man, you would beg for his attention. You would welcome him with open arms… and legs,” he added crudely.

Willow gasped, her eyes bright with fright, though Dariq knew from experience that she didn’t frighten easily. She was a woman who deserved better than what he intended for her. The least he could do was give her a taste of pleasure before she was used so ruthlessly by Ibrahim.

“I did not mean to frighten you, beauty,” Dariq apologized, “but ’tis best that you do not go to Ibrahim ignorant of his cruel nature or his methods of controlling a woman’s rebelliousness. It will go easier on you if you accept your fate.”

Willow shuddered. “Never! Have you no compassion? No conscience? I beg you, send me home. Do not give me to a man you despise—a man who abuses his women.”

Even if Dariq chose not to send Willow to Ibrahim, he knew he wouldn’t send her home. He would keep her for himself. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, despite the knowledge that keeping her would spell his mother’s doom.

“You will learn to survive,” Dariq said, keeping his voice deliberately passionless despite the turmoil roiling inside him.

“If you insist on sending me to Ibrahim, the least you can do is tell me for whom I am being exchanged.”

“Aye,” Dariq said thoughtfully, “I suppose you are right. But first you should know more about my brother than I have told you. He is our father’s eldest son. My mother was Father’s only wife, but he had many concubines with whom he had sons and daughters. Ibrahim was born before Father met and wed my mother in a Christian ceremony. Mother is known as Saliha Sultana. When Father died three years ago, the sultanate passed to Ibrahim. It mattered not to me, for I never wanted what rightfully belonged to my brother.

“Two years ago, Ibrahim went on a rampage, killing all of Father’s male heirs. He feared that one day the heirs would rise up and overthrow him. He was coming to kill me when Mother warned me of his intent. She begged me to flee. I wanted to take her with me, but she refused. She said the mothers of the slain children needed her.

“When I refused to leave without her, Mustafa, the captain of my personal guard at the time, knocked me unconscious and carried me to my ship. For a while, Mother lived in the harem without fear of harm, but I began to hear rumors about her safety that led me to ask Ibrahim, through an emissary, for her release into my custody. Thus far, Ibrahim has refused.

“You see, my brother wants me to stop interfering with his shipping and has threatened to slay my mother if I do not surrender myself to him. I dare not go to Istanbul, for Ibrahim’s janizaries have orders to kill me on sight.”

“Your mother,” Willow whispered shakily. “Now I understand why you are so determined to negotiate a trade.”

“I cannot allow Ibrahim to kill my mother. She is very dear to me.”

Willow moved restlessly against him; he felt the erotic
friction of her breasts against his chest, and his randy cock reminded him why he had summoned the blond beauty to his chamber. It certainly wasn’t to discuss his problems.

“Do you remember what I said about pleasuring you on silken sheets?”

He felt her shudder. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to his bed. The bed had already been turned down; he placed her on rose-colored silk sheets and whipped off her skirts, the only piece of clothing left to her. Then he began to strip off his own clothing, his piercing silver gaze daring her to watch.

Willow wanted to look away but could not. Dariq was magnificent, every part of him masculine and virile, all corded muscles and rippling tendons. His skin appeared as if warmed by the sun; his features were sharply defined, as if honed in granite. While ropes of muscles sculpted his torso, his slim waist and hips gave the impression of pantherlike sleekness. His bronze flesh and black hair made him look exotic, but his features and silver eyes proclaimed his English blood.

Her gaze slid over him, then skittered away when she saw his manhood springing up from the dark forest between his legs. Her gaze immediately returned to his face.

“There is naught to be afraid of,” Dariq said. “Roll over, beauty, you are too tense. Let me help you relax.”

Willow’s breath caught when Dariq placed his hands on her hip and shoulder and turned her onto her stomach. “What are you going to do?”

He reached into a basket on the nightstand and retrieved a vial of liquid, rubbing it between his palms to warm it. Then he removed the stopper and poured a small amount into his palm; he rubbed his hands together to distribute the liquid equally.

“What is that?”

“Fragrant oil—can you smell it? ’Tis very soothing. Breathe deeply of the scent while I massage it into your skin.”

When his palms flattened on her back, she stiffened. Then her skin began to tingle. Heat followed the erotic path of his hands as they moved in slow, sensuous circles over her shoulders, back and buttocks. Not only did Willow begin to relax, but the oil’s aroma was having a strange effect on her.

She felt herself drifting on a sensual fog. Her skin became so sensitive that his lightest touch was pure torture. When he began massaging the insides of her thighs, Willow couldn’t stop the tiny moan that escaped her lips. Then he touched her more intimately, his fingers slipping into the division between her buttocks and following it to the swollen lips of her sex.

Willow summoned a protest, but her voice was suddenly too weak to voice it. She knew that what Dariq was doing to her was sinful, and the way it made her feel was wicked, but she couldn’t help herself. Her mind and body were no longer hers to command. The oil intensified the sensations of her body while its aroma addled her brain.

Dariq eased her over on her back, dribbled more oil onto his hands and began to massage her breasts, giving her pouting nipples special attention. By the time his hands left her breasts and slid over her stomach, Willow was writhing and moaning beneath him, the movement of her hips begging for his intimate touch.

“Your skin is like silk,” Dariq whispered. His palm cupped her smooth mound, and then he kissed her there. “Especially here.” He spread her thighs, kissing her between them. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Willow stirred. Dariq’s voice sounded as if it came
from a great distance. “What did you do to me? Did you drug me?”

“Nay, beauty, it’s the aroma of the oil. It can be overpowering to one unaccustomed to the scent. It makes you feel wonderfully relaxed, does it not?”

“I feel… strange.”

“I know. Open your legs for me; I can make you feel better.”

Willow obeyed even though she knew she should not. He slid down her body, opened the petals of her sex and touched her with his tongue. She nearly jumped off the bed.

“Did you feel pleasure?” he murmured.

“I feel like my skin is on fire and my bones are melting,” she gasped.

He lowered his head and laved the slick folds of her sex with his mouth and tongue. He played her body like a finely tuned instrument while she helplessly responded to the strains of his melody. This couldn’t be happening to her. She’d never known she was capable of feeling the kind of intense pleasure Dariq was giving her. It overwhelmed her to the point of madness. When Dariq reached up to fondle her nipples, she exploded, her orgasm so strong, she feared she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

Slowly Willow regained her wits, disturbingly aware of another erotic sensation. She opened her eyes to find Dariq lying beside her, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he tickled her breasts with a peacock feather. She could feel his extremely hard, exceedingly thick manhood prodding her leg.

She wanted to touch him… badly, and that shocked her. She had never been shy or retiring, but neither had she been overbold about sexual matters. It had to be the oil that was making her long for things she shouldn’t.

“Go ahead, touch me,” Dariq said, as if reading her mind.

Was that a quiver she heard in his voice? She dared a glance at his staff; it was erect and growing. That couldn’t be comfortable. She recalled how she had touched him aboard the
Revenge
, and how his seed had spewed forth when his excitement reached its peak. Some perverse devil inside her wanted to do that to him again.

She heard him suck in his breath when she reached over and curled her fingers around him. He was hard yet soft, firm yet yielding, and so enormous her fingers didn’t reach around him. She started to release him but he grabbed her wrist, holding it in place so she couldn’t move her hand away. Willow had no choice but to begin the motion that she knew would give Dariq pleasure.

She worked her hand up and down, watching his face grow tense, feeling his body harden. She was waiting for the eruption she knew was inevitable when he flung her hand aside and mounted her.

“The hell with Ibrahim,” he growled. “I will perish if I cannot have you.”

She felt his staff prodding the entrance of her sex and attempted to push him away. “Dariq …!”

He kissed her into silence. His mouth was soft and persuasive, his tongue an erotic force thrusting into her mouth. She was growing dizzy, drunk on the excitement of Dariq’s seduction. His body was heavy upon hers, but she welcomed the weight; somehow it seemed right. Her bones were melting; she wanted him inside her but couldn’t find the courage to express her sinful wishes.

She moved her hips in blatant invitation; she felt him push inside her a little ways and then stop. He touched
his forehead to hers, his chest heaving as if he had run a great distance.

“Allah help me. I never meant for this to happen.” His voice was a ragged plea that fell upon deaf ears.

A sudden, desperate thought came to Willow. If Dariq took her virginity, Ibrahim would not want her, and perhaps, just perhaps, Dariq would send her home. Her resistance melted with that thought and she relaxed.

Dariq flexed his hips, preparing for the final thrust that would destroy her virginity, when a loud knock shattered the moment.

Lifting his head, Dariq frowned at the door. “Go away!”

“I’ve brought Safiye to you, my lord,” Mustafa shouted through the panel.

“Go away!” Dariq repeated.

“But, master, Safiye can satisfy your needs.”

“If you do not go away, Mustafa, I will have your head lopped off.”

Silence.

“Master, it is I, Safiye. Send the English houri away and let me pleasure you.”

A low growl formed in Dariq’s throat. “Leave immediately, Safiye, and take Mustafa with you!”

The sound of retreating footsteps grew distant, and then disappeared. Dariq gazed into Willow’s eyes, thrust his hips forward and completed the act. A sharp pain tore into her, through her, and she screamed. Dariq covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries until she grew quiet and began to kiss him back.

He was panting hard when he finally came up for air. “Did I hurt you?”

“You could have warned me. I… had no idea. Is it always like that?”

“Nay, just this one time. I never intended for this to happen. This is the first time I’ve ever lost control with a woman. Lust is a powerful emotion, but with you I fear it is more than that.” He began to move inside her. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little.”

But it didn’t hurt for long. As Dariq moved inside her the pain disappeared, replaced by a sensation like nothing she had ever felt before. At first it was a tingling where they were joined. Then heat spread through her body, unbearable, throbbing heat that surged through her veins. She wanted to feel him deeper, feel him harder, feel him melt into her, become a part of her. Then she shattered; the pleasure was so intense, she lost the ability to think. She was nearly in an insensate state when she heard Dariq call her name and felt his hot seed splash against her womb.

Dariq’s last thought was that his unquenchable lust for Willow could very well mean his mother’s death.

Chapter Eight

Dariq rolled onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes. He had just made the biggest mistake of his life, and there was no way to rectify it. He had acted like an irresponsible fool, putting his own pleasure before his mother’s life.

“I’m worthless to you now,” Willow said hopefully.

Dariq lowered his arm and stared at her, a thoughtful look on his face. “Perhaps all is not lost. You are still as tight as a virgin, and there’s a way to substitute virgin’s blood where there is none.”

Willow’s expression was one of stunned disbelief. “You mean you still intend to give me to Ibrahim?”

“I love my mother,” he said simply. “I cannot let her die.”

Willow pulled the sheet over her nude body. A heavy silence throbbed between them.

When Dariq spoke next, his voice was devoid of all emotion. “If I trade my own life for my mother’s, there is no guarantee Ibrahim would let my mother live once I am dead.”

“You would sacrifice yourself?”

“Aye, if I must.”

Willow chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Perhaps there is another way.”

“Aye, I will think on it. Perhaps Ibrahim will not know your maidenhead is missing. Then again, he might insist that one of his physicians examine you before the trade is completed. My brother trusts me no more than I trust him, and with good reason.”

“All will be lost if a physician examines me.”

“I would not let it go that far,” Dariq said fiercely.

“I am sorry,” Willow said. She should have fought harder against Dariq’s sensual assault, but she had hoped her lack of virginity would lead to her release. She should have known better.

“I hold myself responsible for what happened,” Dariq replied. “I must now make things right. Go now, before I take you again. One time with you has but whetted my appetite. I must not take you again, and I cannot I trust myself alone with you.” He turned away from her. “My lack of self-control is unforgivable. You emasculate me, beauty. You test my control as no woman ever has before.”

He surged from the bed in one fluid motion and dragged on his trousers. Willow arose also, looking for her discarded clothing. Dariq plucked her caftan from the floor and dropped it over her head. Then he gathered her clothes and thrust them into her arms. Turning away, he shouted for Mustafa. The giant burst into the chamber immediately, as if he had been waiting outside the door for Dariq’s summons.

Mustafa shot Willow an assessing glance before turning his attention to Dariq. “What is your wish, master?”

“Return Lady Willow to the harem and then attend me in my chamber.”

His expression grim, Mustafa bowed and ushered Willow from the chamber. He returned a short time later to find Dariq prowling his chamber like a caged animal.

“I warned you, did I not?” Mustafa reproached. “I hope she was worth it.”

“You don’t know what happened; you can only surmise.”

“I know you, my lord prince, better than you know yourself. When you summoned Lady Willow to your chamber, I knew how it would end, even if you did not. You must send her away, for she is useless to you now.”

Dariq disagreed. “Why would I do that? She can still be useful.”

Mustafa searched Dariq’s face. “Do you intend to keep her for yourself?”

Dariq shifted uncomfortably. “Although that option is still open to me, there is another.”

Mustafa’s dark brows knitted. “What would that be, master?”

Dariq poured himself a tumbler of water from a pitcher and drank thirstily. “Sending Willow to Ibrahim is still possible. I cannot replace her maidenhead, but there are ways to simulate innocence. I’m sure Baba could teach her about such things.”

He began to pace again. “The problem, Mustafa, is that I cannot bear to part with Willow. She pleases me beyond understanding. The thought of Ibrahim abusing her is repugnant to me.”

Mustafa groaned and rolled his eyes. “You are thinking with your cock, my lord. You still have Safiye. You adore Safiye.”

“I adore what she does for me, but I have no feelings
beyond mild affection for her. I am a sexual creature, Mustafa, but I am also a discerning one. I know when a woman pleases me beyond mere physical satisfaction.”

“Do you mean that Lady Willow is the woman you need to make you happy?”

Dariq scoffed. “I do not need a woman to make me happy, merely one to satisfy my sexual needs. Raiding Ibrahim’s ships makes me happy.” He shook his head. “I truly do not know what to do, Mustafa, aside from wanting to keep Willow for myself. But I cannot.” A horrifying thought occurred to him. “What if she conceived my child tonight? For the first time in my life, I cannot trust myself with a woman. What does that say about me?”

“It says, Prince Dariq, that you are a man with a divided heart. Worry not, ’tis unlikely the lady conceived tonight, but if she did, Baba knows how to rid her of your unwanted seed. I will see that it is taken care of.”

“Nay! I do not want Willow harmed.”

“You are besotted.”

Dariq made an impatient gesture. “You know not what you talk about, my friend. I have no heart. I satisfy my sexual urges where and with whom I please; women mean naught to me but a moment’s pleasure.”

Mustafa sent him a skeptical look.

“I refuse to succumb to weakness of the flesh,” Dariq declared. A determined look hardened his features. “I know what I must do, Mustafa. Despite her lack of maidenhead, Willow is my only hope of saving Mother. My plans for Willow will follow their original course.”

“Is that your final word, my lord?”

“Aye, Mustafa.” His voice thickened with resolve. “I will not seek Willow’s company while my willpower to resist her is so low. I suspect my desire for her will wane if I keep my distance. Instruct Baba to watch for Willow’s
courses. I will decide what to do should she quicken with my child.”

He turned away, but his thoughts were still with Willow.
Out of sight, out of mind doesn’t always work
, a little voice in his head whispered. Could he banish Willow from his mind? He had to, for his mother’s sake. No matter his personal feelings for her, Willow was destined to become Ibrahim’s concubine.

Despite the late hour, Safiye accosted Willow the moment she returned from Dariq’s chamber, verbally venting her venom. “He bedded you!” she accused. “Do not deny it.”

“I am in no mood to argue with you,” Willow replied tiredly. She wanted to be alone. She was exhausted and in need of a bath.

“You reek of sex,” Safiye blasted as she followed Willow to her chamber.

Willow blocked her entrance. “Go to bed, Safiye, ’tis late.”

Safiye’s scathing gaze fell on the bundle of clothing in Willow’s arms. She gave a bitter laugh. “I knew it! You did not please him. He sent you from his bed in disgrace.”

Willow had heard enough. Safiye’s taunts were more than she could bear. She wanted to be alone to think. “Ali Hara!” she shouted, and then waited for the ebony giant to appear.

He arrived moments later, naked to the waist, his feet bare. “What is it, my lady? Are you hurt? Is there aught you desire?”

“Aye, Ali Hara. I desire Safiye to leave my chamber. I grow tired of her insults.”

The eunuch sent Safiye a censuring look. “You should be abed, lady. Come, I will escort you to your chamber.”

Safiye gave Willow a scathing glance and flounced off. “I will sleep outside Safiye’s door to make sure she does not return, my lady,” Ali Hara whispered.

Willow heaved an enormous sigh as she closed the door behind Safiye and Ali Hara. She looked longingly at the bed, but as much as she wanted to give in to exhaustion she knew Safiye was right. She
did
reek of sex. She could smell Dariq’s seed on her. She opened her door once again and peered out. The harem was silent. Quietly she made her way to the
hammam
. She needed to be alone to think about everything that had happened tonight and the ultimate consequences.

The halls were deserted and the
hammam
dark but for a single wall sconce, creating disturbing patterns of light and dark. Ignoring the grotesque display dancing upon the walls, Willow drew off her caftan and lowered herself into the sunken tub.

A blissful sigh escaped her throat as she sank down into the warm water. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth soothe away her troubles. What had happened between her and Dariq tonight had caused more problems for her. Did Dariq blame her for his loss of control? She thought he did. And in a way, she
was
responsible.

She had stopped resisting Dariq, mistakenly believing that her loss of virginity would foil his plans to give her to Ibrahim. She’d assumed that once she had been defiled, Dariq would return her to her father… perhaps for ransom. But her assumptions had been wrong.

Willow saw the pot of soap lying on the rim of the tub and scooped out a handful, using it to scrub Dariq’s scent from her. Only then did she feel fresh and clean again. Unfortunately, nothing could restore her virginity. Even if Dariq returned her to her father, she was ruined for marriage to anyone else. She would be ruined even if
Dariq hadn’t corrupted her. The scandal would scare off prospective suitors despite her generous portion.

Gossip would travel to France and beyond, so it would make no difference if she decided to live in her mother’s country. Scandal would follow her wherever she went.

A terrifying thought abruptly occurred to her. What if she had conceived Dariq’s child? She wasn’t ignorant. She knew that one time was all it took to catch a babe. Would Dariq still send her to Ibrahim if she carried his child?

Would he sacrifice his own child to save his mother?

Willow stepped out of the tub and reached for a drying cloth, depression weighing heavily on her. A dismal future lay before her no matter where fate led her.

Sleep eluded Dariq. Willow’s fate was in his hands, and he didn’t know what to do. Bedding Willow hadn’t been a smart move, but he had been desperate to have her. Never had his self-control been so thoroughly compromised. His moment of uncontrollable lust was likely to have dire consequences, and he had no idea now how to rectify it.

Should he go ahead with his original plans to exchange Willow for his mother? Would Ibrahim punish Willow for her lack of virginity? Or should he abandon that plan for another? He had sneaked into Istanbul before; perhaps he could attempt it again, this time to spirit his mother out of Ibrahim’s harem. He had a wonderful ally in Kamel, but his brother’s janizaries would be difficult to elude, especially inside the seraglio.

An untamed urge to have Willow again clawed at Dariq’s innards, torturing him to the point that he wanted to burst into the harem and carry her back to his chamber. His loins throbbed, and he rolled over on his
stomach, fighting his need for a blond houri who tempted him beyond redemption.

Bedding Willow had been a mistake, but a powerful hunger for her had created a temporary madness in him. He should be content after satisfying his lust, but he wasn’t. The sad fact remained that one time with Willow would never be enough.

Perhaps he should summon Safiye, Dariq thought. The dark-haired beauty had the expertise and stamina to exhaust his body until it accepted sleep.

He didn’t want Safiye.

By Allah’s beard! What had Willow done to him? All he could think about was her soft white skin, the fragrance of her hair, and the silken tightness of her feminine sheath as he drove them both to climax.

Aye, he was mad. There was no other explanation.

The following two weeks passed with boring similarity. Willow hadn’t seen Dariq since the night he had taken her virginity. Though she found it difficult to explain, she missed him. She was ably served by both Baba and Ali Hara, but they hardly provided the stimulating conversation she enjoyed with Dariq. Safiye had kept her distance. The concubine seemed to come and go at will, often leaving the harem without permission. There seemed to be no rules where Safiye was concerned. Where she went on her outings, Willow had no idea.

One day Willow was in the
hammam
enjoying a bath when she sensed someone watching her. She called Baba, but the old woman must not have heard her, for she didn’t answer the summons. She remembered the peephole and turned her head toward the latticework behind which Dariq had once watched her bathe.

“Dariq, is that you? Are you spying on me?”

Willow saw a shadow move behind the lattice, and then it was gone, and with it the feeling that she was being spied upon.

Later that day, Willow was sitting on a bench in the small garden, bored and restless. She would surely perish if she had to spend the rest of her days imprisoned by walls. It was time to flee, despite the fact that scant opportunity existed for a successful escape.

Willow stifled a groan when Safiye entered the garden and glided languidly toward her. Safiye was the last person Willow wanted to talk to. She suspected that the other women had been occupying Dariq’s bed these past two weeks, and the thought didn’t please her.

“You look unhappy,” Safiye said as she fluttered down beside Willow, “while I am deliriously happy.” She stifled a yawn. “Prince Dariq summoned me to his bed last night. He is a tireless lover, but you already know that.”

“I am thrilled for you,” Willow muttered sourly. “I am not here by choice, or to serve Prince Dariq’s needs.” She started to rise.

“No, do not go,” Safiye said. “If you wish to leave, perhaps I can help you.”

Willow settled down again beside Safiye. “How can you help me?”

“Unlike you, I am not confined to the harem. I have few restrictions, except that I must wear a caftan and veil when I go abroad.”

“Where do you go?”

“The pirates and their women live in Pirate Town, a small village hugging the docks. The women sell trinkets and such in the marketplace—items they no longer want or need. I sometimes visit the souk to look over their wares. Everyone knows I belong to their prince, and no one harms me.”

“Does Dariq know you leave the harem?”

“The prince knows and approves. This is Lipsi, not Istanbul, and he is quite lenient where I am concerned. Sometimes Ali Hara accompanies me, and sometimes I go alone.”