“We cannot be certain of the local farmers, my jewel. If it looks cloudy they will not come for fear of rain. If the day dawns fair they are just as likely to remain at home because of the heat. They will always put their own fields first. They are simply not reliable. These men belong to you, and must do your bidding whether it be hot or cold, rainy or dry.”
“First they must be housed,” she reminded him. “We have no place here in the palace for them for it is small.”
“Let them sleep in the stables until they can build a place for themselves,” he answered. “You need not be concerned with them. My wives never bothered with the servants. They are replaceable.”
“My lord,” she said patiently, “perhaps in your homeland you had a large establishment, and it was run very efficiently by a large staff of servants ; but here, my lord, you have a small palace, and naught but Hammed to cook for us, and that scruffy troup of Tartars that you have brought with you to serve you. They are not house servants, and are, I see, far more adept at riding, and hunting than they are at being domestic. Therefore I must be, and I should like to spend my time being useful. I was trained for it. I always have. I cannot occupy my time simply bathing and perfuming myself to lie idly upon a couch awaiting your attentions! As your father’s ambassador you must attend upon the sultan at his court most days. I will not just sit eager for your return!”
He chuckled at her outrage. “But I want you eagerly awaiting my return,” he teased her. “After all, was not woman created merely for man’s pleasure?”
“You will not find much pleasure in an empty belly, or dirty linens, my lord, and that is exactly what you shall have if you do not let me run your house,” she threatened, but her gray eyes were laughing at him.
“Woman,” he growled at her, and with a leap across the room he captured her. To his delight Aidan shrieked her surprise, “You presume far too much. First you wheedle the gardens from me, and now you desire the house. Will you never be satisfied?” He held her tightly within his embrace.
“Never,” she giggled, rubbing her body against his until they both felt his rising desire, and she boldly drew his head down to kiss him passionately.
“Ah, my jewel, you are becoming so much a part of me,” he admitted softly.
“Then give me the house,” she murmured seductively against his mouth, and her hand caressed the nape of his neck with a sensuous touch.
“You must earn your privileges,” he teased back, and then with a movement she certainly wasn’t expecting he kicked her legs out from under her, and together they fell to the thick carpet. His hands pulled her pantaloons down, exposing her vulnerability, and Aidan shrieked again with surprise.
She was not helpless, however. Realizing that it was but a game he played with her she rolled quickly from beneath him, kicking out with a kid-shod foot. “Give me the house!” she cried.
His answer was to grasp at both her ankles, and yank her forward, pulling her legs over his shoulders as he did. Then his mouth fastened upon her flesh. He tongued her provocatively, seeking every hidden crevice, probing softly at the delicate flesh until she gave down her honey.
She writhed beneath him, both fire and ice filling her veins at the same time. “My lord! My lord!” she moaned desperately.
Javid Khan lifted his head. “Say please,” he whispered.
It was enough of a respite from his delicious tortures. “Give me the house!” she managed to gasp.
He lowered his head to tease at her again for a few moments, and then pulling himself up so that their faces were level he kissed her deeply and passionately as he pushed his swollen shaft into her welcoming body.
She sighed with open relief, and smoothed her hands down his back to cup his tight buttocks to her as opening herself to him she wrapped her long legs about his body. He was, she thought, the most marvelous lover. As tender as her husband had been, but different, and she liked it. She thrust her body up to meet his downward movement for she was not a passive partner. She could already feel the tumult building in intensity, and she welcomed it. “Yes, my darling,” she whispered with hot breath into his ear encouraging him, “oh, yes, my lord Javid! Oh, I am shameless ! I cannot get enough of you, my lord! Please, please, do not stop!” She shuddered with passion. She could feel him pulsing and quivering within her soft body. She could feel him growing bigger with his hunger.
The prince gritted his teeth with his great desire for the woman beneath him. Allah!
She could not get enough of him?
If he spent the next thousand years in her arms like this he would never be satisfied! He could feel the great shaft of his manhood, engorged with his love for her, throbbing within her soft sheath. Over and over again he drove into her softness until unable to bear any more his love juices cascaded into her hidden garden, and in his own language, a language she could not understand, he groaned, “I love you, my jewel! I love you!” Then he fell across her breasts.
Instinctively she cradled him within the circle of her arms for she, too, was lost in paradise. Then as reason began to return she gently stroked his tawny head, and asked, “What did you say to me, my lord?”
“I said that the palace is yours, my jewel,” he murmured in reply. It was not that he regretted his words for he did not, but he would not say them to her until she had learned to love him. She must not have any advantage over him. With women such a thing was dangerous. He rolled off her, and she put her head upon his shoulder.
“You are so good to me, my lord Javid,” she said.
“I want you to be happy,” he answered her, “but I fear that my father and brothers would chide me for I spoil you dreadfully.”
“Ah,” she teased him, “but do their women care for the house as I do? I am a very valuable slave, my lord.”
“Yes,” he said, tenderly kissing the top of her head, “you are a most valuable woman, my jewel. Now, however, I think we should get up from the floor. My poor Tartars would be shocked to find me so enslaved by my slave.”
The master enslaved by his slave.
This was hardly the picture that Conn O’Malley had of his wife’s plight as he entered the house of Osman the astrologer in Algiers with his three brothers. A white-robed servant ushered them into the main salon of the house, and said in perfect French, “The master will be with you shortly, good sirs.”
The O’Malley brothers gazed about the beautifully tiled room. In its center was a fountain in whose middle was a two-tiered basin from which water dripped into the main fountain. There were thick colorful wool rugs upon the floor, and the lamps were all of polished silver and ruby glass. There were several low overstuffed couches in red velvet and beautiful low brass tables set upon ebony bases. It was a lovely and very richlooking room, and the brothers, escorted by Sir Robert Small, looked about goggle-eyed much to Robbie’s amusement.
He was an old friend of long standing of Osman, and he knew this house almost as well as he knew his own for it had originally belonged to his first trading partner, the renegade Spaniard, Khalid el Bey, who had been Skye’s second husband. Osman had bought the house from the widowed Skye when she had fled to England after her husband’s death to escape the unwelcome attentions of the commander of the Kasbah fortress who had designs not only on her person, but her vast wealth as well.
“This was once your sister’s house,” he told the O’Malley brothers, and then fleshed out the tale.
They listened to him openmouthed for such incredible adventure was beyond belief to Brian, Shane and Shamus O’Malley who despite their privateering activities led very circumspect lives. Conn, however, knew the story, and noted that Robbie did not tell them that Khalid el Bey was the Great Whoremaster of Algiers at the time he was married to their sister. Robert Small, knowing the small minds of his audience, simply told the brothers of the Spanish merchant who was their eldest niece’s father. It was enough to keep them interested until, as Robbie had known, Osman the astrologer viewed them secretly through his spy hole, and then made his entrance.
He entered the room quietly, and at first Conn thought that this gentle-looking man of medium height with his hairless pate and his bland, moon-round face was naught but a servant. Certainly his garb of plain white robes with its dark silk embroidery about the neck and the sleeves was not the impressive garment of the powerful man that Robbie had said that Osman was. Then, however, Conn looked into the eyes of the man, and he instantly knew that this was Osman. The golden-brown eyes were not simply intelligent, they were knowing, and Conn realized somewhat eerily, at least a thousand years old. How he knew this he did not understand. He just did.
“Robert!” Osman embraced the little Englishman. “As always you look not a day older. In anticipation of your visit I have found the most exquisite twin sisters. You have not lost your appetite for sweetmeats, I trust.”
“I’ll never lose that appetite, Osman, my friend,” grinned Robert Small. “I may be going gray,” and Robbie ruefully ran his hand through his fading ginger-colored locks, “but my cock’s as randy a fellow as ever! Let’s get to business, and then I’ll partake of your expansive hospitality, man!”
Osman smiled warmly back at the Englishman. He was deeply fond of him for he was an honest man in a world where honesty, it seemed, counted for very little. Then before Robbie could make the introduction he turned to Conn, and said quietly, “You will be Lord Bliss. You look very much like your sister. Your eyes are a mirror of your soul. Do not be afraid for your wife, my lord. She is a very strong woman.”
“You saw her?”
“Several times before she left for Istanbul. The dey is a friend of mine, and my position allowed me access to his harem where another man would certainly not be admitted.”
“She is gone then?” Conn looked crestfallen.
“Several weeks ago, my lord. You could not possibly have reached her in time, and she is by now in Istanbul. She will be safe there.”
“
Safe?
In bondage to some infidel? Fash, man! Ye don’t know what it is ye say!” Brian O’Malley looked belligerently at Osman.
“I have neglected to introduce my brother to you, my lord Osman,” said Conn with grave understatement, and the great astrologer’s eyes twinkled. “This gentlemen with the quick tongue is Brian, the eldest, and next is Shane, and then Shamus.”
Osman nodded politely to the three elder O’Malley brothers, and then he said quietly, “Are not all women in bondage to men? As for being an infidel,” and he chuckled, “why is it that when we both worship the same God we each think the other an infidel?”
Brian had the good grace to flush uncomfortably, but before he might excuse his quick speech Osman spoke again.
“This being your first visit to Algiers, brothers of my dear friend Skye, I have planned what I hope will be a delightful diversion for you.” He clapped his hands, and instantly a servant appeared. “If you will follow Ali, my three new friends, he will lead you to the baths where you will be refreshed after your journey. Captain Small and Lord Bliss will join you later when we have discussed our business for there has been a minor complication of sorts with which we must deal.”
Somewhat surprised, but nonetheless intrigued, Brian, Shane, and Shamus departed the room trailing in the wake of Ali, who bowed low and grinned broadly at them before turning to lead them out with a chuckle. When the door had closed behind them Robbie began to smile.
“They will be happy men when they come from your baths, Osman.”
Osman returned the smile. “But happier when they see the luscious companions I have chosen for them during their stay. Each one, my old friend Robert, is a veritable houri. It will be a delightful experience for them after the tavern wenches they have no doubt tumbled enthusiastically along the Spanish Main.”
“We are not staying in Algiers, my lord Osman,” said Corm. “We but came to learn what we could from you regarding my wife, Aidan.”
“That, Lord Bliss, is the minor complication I am talking about. You are staying in Algiers for the present, and there is nothing that even I can do to expedite matters. On the fourth day of August the Portuguese met the forces of the sultan at Alcazarquivir. They were very badly defeated, and their young king, Sebastian, was killed. As a consequence the slave markets have been flooded with captives, most of them Portuguese, but as contingents from virtually every country in Europe were represented in the Portuguese army, there were Spanish, English, French, Flemish, Dutch, Germans, and Italians captured also.
“The sultan is extremely annoyed that countries who claim to want relations with him would send their forces into battle against his forces. He is therefore clamping down on trade and all ships of non-Muslim nations entering his ports, of which of course Algiers is one. The order came through just last week, and I could not inform you, and warn you not to come.”
“Does that mean that our vessels are impounded?” asked Conn.
“No, no, nothing of that nature, my lord. It merely means that now that you have made port here the officials of the dey’s government who control the harbor facilities will inspect your entire cargo minutely for contraband, and check amongst your crews for runaway slaves. I must warn you here that even though you do not carry contraband, nor have escaped slaves amongst your men, both will be found. That will mean that you will have to pay fines to the dey’s government which is, of course, the sultan’s government, and then you will have to buy back your men who are accused of being slaves. Do not fear for your men. I will see that no harm comes to them, and I will use my influence to see that you are not stung with regards to the price for them. The market is flooded right now with slaves, and so the prices are not high. It will mean, however, that you will be detained for a time before you are allowed to travel on to Istanbul. When the sultan has gotten his message over to the rulers of Christian Europe things will be normal once again. I am sorry.”