Anne Herries - Captive of the Harem

‘Go away! You have no right to be here. Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn owns me and he will kill you if he finds you here.’

‘I do not think so.’ Suleiman was amused by her show of defiance. Did she not realise that she was completely at his mercy? He could strip off his wet clothes and join her in the bath… The temptation to do so made him harden beneath his robes. He could feel his manhood burning and throbbing with a fierce need—a need he had not felt in a long time. ‘Come out and dry yourself, woman.’

‘Not while you’re watching!’

‘Foolish one! You have nothing to show that I have not already seen a thousand times.’

‘I don’t care how many concubines you have!’ Eleanor retorted, stung by his mockery. How dare he speak to her so! ‘I am not one of them and I am not coming out until you go away.’

‘You will turn cold.’ Suleiman sat down on a tiled bench, his eyes intent on her face, his mouth softened by amusement. ‘I have no intention of leaving.’

‘You are also wet.’

‘But I shall dry in the sun.’ He laughed huskily, the cruel mouth softened and suddenly appealing. ‘What a fierce one you are, my little bird. You are truly worth the price asked. You will make a fine gift for the Sultan.’

Eleanor was chilled. So she was to be sold after all!

‘Have you bought me?’ He inclined his head, sending strange little sensations down her spine as she saw the brilliance of his eyes. ‘Who—who are you?’

‘My name is Suleiman Bakhar. I am the son of Caliph Bakhar—chief justice minister to the Sultan.’

Eleanor was silent, fighting her desire to weep. It seemed that all her hopes were at an end. She had hoped so much that she would be able to persuade her captor to ransom her—but it was already too late. There was something masterful about this man, an air of arrogance that told her he would not easily give up what was his.

Suleiman relented as he saw her shiver. ‘Come out, foolish woman. I shall turn my back.’

He stood up, turning away so that he could not see her. He heard her moving in the water and was tempted to turn as she left the bath, but resisted.

‘You can look now.’

Suleiman turned. She had wrapped a towel around her body, leaving her shoulders and arms bare, and was clutching the cloth to her as if her life depended on it. He smiled, feeling oddly moved by her need for modesty. Most of the women were only too eager to show off their charms. He picked up the second towel.

‘Come here. I shall dry your hair.’

She made no move to obey, simply staring at him with her head up and her eyes proud. No one disobeyed Suleiman! To do so could mean instant punishment—even death. He was stunned by her obstinacy. Was she mad or merely foolish? Had she no idea how important he was—or what he could do to her if he chose?

‘You must obey me. I am your master.’

‘You may have bought me, but that does not mean that you can make me your slave.’

Suleiman saw the pride and defiance in her eyes and felt a surge of excitement. She was like one of his hawks—when they were fresh from the wild and untamed to the touch of his hand. Most of the birds succumbed to gentle persuasion in time, but now and then one would attempt to tear out his eyes. If that happened the bird was returned to the wild. Some men would have ordered it killed, but Suleiman understood the wild spirit that could not be tamed—and respected it.

He had never met a truly spirited woman before. They were always trained in their duties by the eunuchs and older women long before they were presented to their master.

‘What makes you say that? Do you not understand that I have absolute power over you? I can do with you as I will.’

‘You can do as you will with my body,’ Eleanor retorted, head high. She ought to be afraid of this man but she wasn’t. ‘But you cannot command my mind—or my soul.’

‘Ah…’ Suleiman nodded, enjoying this verbal tussle. ‘Yes, I see. You think you can rise above the indignity of being a slave. I understand. But you do not. You are fortunate that I paid a great deal of money for you—or you might even now feel pain. I do not think you have ever experienced true pain, Eleanor.’

‘Who gave you permission to use my name?’ Her eyes flashed blue fire.

Suleiman moved towards her, towering above her, menacing her with the power of his strength and masculinity—yet she did not flinch. Her hair had begun to dry at the edges in the hot sun, little wisps curling about her face. He could imagine what it would look like properly dressed in its natural waves, cascading down to the small of her back. He was pleased with his purchase and inclined to indulge her for the moment.

‘Here…’ He put the second towel around her shoulders to protect her from the fierce heat. ‘Go into the house and let Roxana help you to dress. We have a ride of some distance to my father’s palace.’

Eleanor was torn between anger and caution. This man was a noble of his own country. A barbarian, of course, but better than many she might have been sold to. She was foolish to antagonise him. If she tried persuasion instead, he might ransom her to her family.

‘I shall obey because I have no choice for the moment,’ she said with dignity. ‘But you do not understand either, sir. I am the daughter of an English baronet. I have powerful friends. They will look for me and they will pay a high price for my return—twice what you paid for me. You may name your own price, sir.’

‘You do not know how much I paid…’ A smile curved his mouth. ‘Would your family give ten thousand in your English gold coin? I might sell you for such a sum.’

It was a king’s ransom and her family could not pay anywhere near as much—and he knew it.

Eleanor paled from shock. ‘That is impossible. You did not pay any such sum!’

Suleiman laughed, much amused by her reaction. She had not tried to lie, and that pleased him. ‘No, I did not—but I am beginning to think I paid too much. You have too much to say for yourself, woman. Have you no respect for your betters? Do you not know that it becomes a woman to remain silent in the presence of her master—at least until she is given permission to speak?’

‘When I am in company that deserves my respect I give it.’ She felt a flash of temper. How dare this barbarian try to teach her manners? She was an English gentlewoman! ‘Here, I see only barbarians.’

‘Be careful, woman.’ Suleiman’s mouth hardened as he took a step towards her. ‘My patience wears thin. Go to the house before I drag you back in the pool and drown you!’

‘You wouldn’t…’ Eleanor began, but the look in those fierce eyes made her think he just might. She gave a little squeak of alarm, turned and fled.

Suleiman watched her flight, his eyes bright with laughter. He had won the first tussle—but what a fight she had put up. She was indeed a fine prize. A worthy gift for the Sultan…and yet perhaps she needed to be tamed a little first. She was too fiery, too defiant. From what he knew of the Sultan, her spirit would not be particularly appreciated.

Perhaps Suleiman would keep her for a while…

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