The Pirate Prince (11 page)

She was tired—so very tired. How long could she go on before her arms no longer worked and her legs became dead weights? Not nearly long enough, she realized as she began to sink below the surface.

“Do you see her?” Mustafa asked anxiously.

“Nay.” A tense silence throbbed between them. “Aye, there she is, floating portside!” Dariq cried. He leaned over the side and reached out to her. “Willow, grab my hand!”

“She cannot hear you, Prince.”

“She is sinking! I cannot let her die, Mustafa. Trim the sail; I’m going in.”

He handed the spyglass to Mustafa, peeled off his shirt, kicked off his boots and dove into the water. When Willow began drifting away from him and then went under, he swam with sure, steady strokes toward the place where he had last seen her. He saw her head bob to the surface again and then disappear. The fear that she might drown sent adrenaline surging through him. Sucking in a lungful of air, he plunged beneath the choppy surface, down … down … down…

Dariq saw naught but fish and murky water. He swam around until his breath was gone, then spiraled upward, sucked in another deep breath and dove down again. Giving up wasn’t an option. Then he saw her. She was drifting toward him, her blond hair floating eerily about her face and shoulders. Grasping a long lock of hair and wrapping it around his hand, he dragged her up… up … up…

They broke the surface together. Gasping for air, he slowly towed her toward the skiff. Mustafa stood by to pull her in. Once Willow was safely aboard, Dariq heaved himself out of the water and into the skiff.

“Is she breathing?” Dariq asked from between chattering teeth.

“Nay, Prince.”

Dariq knelt over her, more frightened than he had ever been in his life. He would not let her die. She didn’t deserve to die. She was an innocent pawn in his game with Ibrahim.

“Press the water from her lungs,” Mustafa urged. “Then breathe life into her. I saw it done once. Open her mouth and give her your breath.”

Desperate, Dariq did as Mustafa suggested. First he turned Willow onto her stomach and gently pressed his palms to her back several times until water spewed from her mouth. Then he turned her over, lifted her head and breathed into her mouth.

A tiny gasp. A subtle breath, and then another, and yet another, until her chest rose and fell in regular intervals and she began taking shallow breaths on her own. But she was so pale and still that Dariq feared for her life.

“We must get her back to the seraglio,” Dariq said. He wrapped his dry shirt around her and pulled her into his arms in order to share what little body warmth he had left after his frigid dip into the sea.

Mustafa turned the skiff about and steered toward the harbor. They rounded the beachhead, reaching the pier below Pirate Town soon afterward.

Dariq paid little heed to the curious onlookers as Mustafa tied the skiff to the pier. The moment it was secured, he leapt ashore with Willow in his arms and ran all
the way to the seraglio, watching every tortured breath that wheezed from her lungs. If she died, he’d banish Safiye to the darkest corner of hell.

Dariq sprinted into the seraglio with Willow in his arms and Mustafa close on his heels. He carried her directly to his chamber.

“Fetch Baba!” he shouted to Mustafa over his shoulder. The big Turk hurried off to do his master’s bidding.

A servant opened the door to his chamber and Dariq pushed past him. Willow was shivering so hard, her whole body shook. With an efficiency of motion, he stripped off her wet clothing, pulled back the covers and tucked her into bed. Moments later, Baba rushed into the chamber, her expression grim when she saw Willow’s white face. A manservant entered behind her, carrying a small casket.

“What happened to her?” the old woman asked.

“I pulled her out of the sea,” Dariq explained.

Baba’s rheumy eyes widened. “Ali Hara said Safiye was responsible for Lady Willow leaving the harem.”

Dariq’s expression turned hard. “Safiye said she was merely helping Willow leave, but I fear her intentions were evil. Can you help Willow?”

“Move aside, my lord,” Baba said, pushing Dariq away from the bed. The manservant placed the casket on the side table and departed, but Dariq hovered over Baba as she examined Willow.

Baba thumped Willow’s chest, then turned her over and did the same to her back.

“She has no water in her lungs,” Baba announced in a cautiously optimistic voice.

“I pressed it out. Mustafa had seen it done before and explained the process to me. I’m more worried about congestion
in her lungs. The water was cold, and I had no blanket to wrap her in after I pulled her out.”

“I will do what I can, master. I can prepare herbal remedies to relieve the congestion, and others to ward off fever. Light the brazier and then summon Ali Hara. He can assist me.”

“But—”

“Go, my lord Prince, I will not let your lady die. This I vow.”

Reluctantly Dariq left the chamber. He had to trust Baba, for there was no one else.

He entered the harem, barking for Ali Hara to attend him. The eunuch appeared instantly in answer to his master’s frantic summons.

“What happened, master? Mustafa told me naught when he came to fetch Baba, except to say that you pulled Lady Willow from the sea. Thank Allah I summoned you in time to save her.”

“Baba assures me Willow will live. Go to Baba; she needs you to assist her. You will find her in my chamber with Willow. Where is Safiye?”

“In her chamber, master.”

Dariq’s rage was simmering out of control as he stormed off to confront Safiye. She had planned the death of an innocent woman and must answer for her treachery.

Apparently Safiye had been expecting Dariq, for she had arrayed herself for maximum effect upon her sleeping couch, her voluptuous body covered by a minimum of diaphanous clothing. She rose on one elbow and smiled tremulously at Dariq.

“Forgive me, my lord. I meant no harm.”

A muscle twitched in Dariq’s jaw. “Which one of your sins do you regret?”

She blinked. “I am sorry about Lady Willow’s death. She is dead, is she not?”

Dariq considered Safiye with barely concealed contempt, but losing his temper before extracting the information he sought would defeat his purpose.

“I pulled her out of the sea,” he confided without giving specifics.

Safiye sighed. “ ’Tis a sad thing. I trusted the fisherman who offered to take Lady Willow safely to Greece.” She spread her plump arms in blatant invitation. “Let me give you comfort, my lord.” The movement caused her brief vest to rise, exposing well-rounded breasts and coral nipples.

Dariq was unimpressed. His voice hardened, along with his expression. “The fisherman’s name—I want it.”

Safiye’s expression went blank. “I do not know his name.”

“You paid the man to take Willow to Greece, did you not?”

She swallowed hard. “Aye, I did, but he was naught but a fisherman I met in Lipsi Town. I did not ask his name.” She raised her leg and spread her thighs, affording Dariq a glimpse of her naked mound and the glistening lips of her sex.

Dariq glanced at her undeniable charms and looked away, uninterested in what she had to offer. He wanted but one thing from her. “You are lying, Safiye. Admit it. You arranged for Willow’s death.”

Safiye refused to meet his gaze. “Nay, I did not.” She gulped audibly. “What does it matter? The lady is dead and I am alive. You are clever. You will find another way to rescue your mother. Let me give you what Willow cannot.”

Dariq’s rage exploded. It took considerable restraint to say quietly, “Willow lives. Your scheme did not work. She was alive when I pulled her from the sea. Tell me the name of the fisherman you paid to drown her. We both know Willow wasn’t supposed to reach Greece. A skiff is not sturdy enough to sail great distances on the open sea.”

Leaping from the couch, Safiye threw herself at Dariq’s feet, hugging his knees and sobbing pitifully. “I did not want Lady Willow’s death, my dear lord. What do I know about sailing vessels? I truly thought she would reach Greece. I trusted the fisherman, ’tis not my fault he did not honor our agreement.”

“What agreement was that?” Dariq asked with quiet menace.

“I paid the fisherman a small fortune to take Lady Willow to Greece, and even gave her money to purchase transportation to England.”

Dariq’s hands fisted at his sides. “I do not believe your lies. You never expected Willow to reach Greece.”

Safiye gazed imploringly at Dariq. “You accuse me falsely, master. I but wanted to help a woman who did not belong here.”

Grasping her arms, Dariq pulled her to her feet. “Do not lie to me! You feared Willow would supplant you in my affections and wanted her out of the way.”

Her eyes blazing with untamed fury, Safiye accused, “You were besotted with Willow! Obsessed with her. I admit I was jealous and wanted her gone, but I would not—”

He shook her hard. “Wouldn’t you? Tell me the fisherman’s name so I can see to his punishment.”

Safiye shook her head. “I do not know his name. We both preferred it that way.”

“I cannot believe that a fisherman or anyone else from
Lipsi Town would agree to your reprehensible scheme. With or without your help, I will find the man and punish him.”

Safiye bit her bottom lip, her eyes revealing her terror. “Am I to be punished?”

Dariq’s edict was temporarily forestalled when Ali Hara rushed into Safiye’s chamber. “Come quickly, master. Lady Willow—”

Dariq didn’t wait to hear the rest. Turning on his heel, he raced from the chamber. “Guard Safiye well,” he called over his shoulder. “I will deal with her later.”

Fury drained from Dariq, replaced by sheer terror. Had Willow’s condition worsened? Was she …? Nay, he refused to think along those lines.

Dariq burst into his chamber and skidded to a halt when he saw Willow sitting up in bed, still pale but alive. “You’re not dead!” he cried. “I imagined the worst when Ali Hara summoned me.”

“Give me some credit, my lord,” Baba huffed. “Did I not promise you she would live?”

“Aye, but I feared …” He approached the bed. “Are you truly well, beauty?”

A shiver passed through Willow. “Aye, thanks to you. Baba said you pressed the water from my lungs.” She shivered again. “The water was so cold, and my clothing dragged me down.” She paused before continuing. “The fisherman tried to kill me, but he wasn’t really a fisherman. He was a Turk.”

Dariq motioned for Baba to leave the chamber.

“Are you sure?” Dariq asked once they were alone. “Did you see his face?”

“I did, but not until he attempted to kill me. He wore a hat with a brim pulled low over his forehead and did not
look directly at me. Nor did he speak, until he saw your skiff. Then he drew his knife and came for me. He was a pirate; I’d stake my life on it. He feared your reprisal.”

“As well he should. How did you end up in the sea? Did he push you overboard?”

“I did not fancy being stabbed, so I jumped into the water. It seemed the lesser of two evils. I know how to swim, but my clothing dragged me down. Thank God you reached me in time.”

“Thank Allah and God and all His saints,” Dariq said reverently.

“I asked Baba to send for you because I needed to tell you something,” Willow said. “The Turk said I was not supposed to reach Greece.”

She blinked away a tear. “I think Safiye wanted me dead. I am sorry, Dariq.”

Dariq sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be sorry. I should have known Safiye would be jealous and attempt something like this. Are you truly all right?”

“Baba could find no congestion in my chest, and if I don’t develop a fever, I will recover quickly. She thinks I should stay in bed a day or two, drink hot liquids and rest.”

“Baba is usually right; listen to her.”

Willow sighed and snuggled down into the pillows. “I should return to the harem.”

“Not yet. There’s still Safiye to deal with, but all in good time.” He stroked her forehead, trailing his fingers down her cheek. Their gazes met and locked; for the first time in his life, Dariq knew what heaven looked like.

Propelled by a desperate need, he lowered his head and kissed her.

Chapter Ten

Dariq kissed her with all the passion in his heart, until her mouth relaxed beneath his. When his tongue probed against her lips, they opened to him. Pressing his advantage, he thrust his tongue inside, drinking of her unique taste like a man dying of thirst.

When he heard her whimper, he drew away and searched her face. “I must be mad to want you like this, but I cannot help myself.”

Willow stroked his face; Dariq’s body hardened in response. She shivered. “Are you still cold, beauty?”

She shook her head. How could she be cold with heat rolling off Dariq like a newly stoked fire?

He bent to kiss her ear, the tip of his tongue exploring the tender whirl of flesh while his teeth worried the plump lobe. Then he pushed the long strands of her hair aside and began to kiss down her throat.

“
Oh!
That feels … It makes me …”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Her reply was so soft, it could scarcely be heard.

He sighed and started to rise. “You’re still weak. I should let you rest.”

“I… suppose so.” She shivered again.

He didn’t leave, instead he stripped off his damp clothing and climbed into bed. “You’re cold. Let me warm you.” He brought her into his arms and pressed her against his naked body. Willow gasped, seared by the heat of his flesh. Heaving a sigh, she snuggled close, burrowing into his comforting warmth.

He stroked her back, up and then down, dragging his fingers along the crease separating her buttocks. Willow trembled, but not from cold. Just when she began to enjoy the soothing warmth and sensation of his talented fingers, Dariq grasped the taut mounds and pulled her hard against his loins. She felt his erection prodding against her stomach and knew she was in danger of succumbing again to his seduction.

Did she have the strength to resist him?

Did she want to?

Obviously not, for she merely sighed when he said, “I want to make love to you, beauty. If you do not want me or feel too weak to respond, tell me now, while I can still stop.”

“I…” Words failed her. It wasn’t weakness she felt, but desire. She couldn’t deny the heat permeating her body where Dariq touched her, any more than she could deny her body’s response to his touch.

Accepting her silence for acquiescence, Dariq groaned her name and turned her over on her stomach. Baba must have sponged her body in warm water mixed with the essence of flowers, for she smelled delicious. The intoxicating fragrance sent his pulse racing out of control.

He pushed the drying mass of her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck. He was encouraged when Willow
gasped his name. But when he grasped her hand and licked her palm and sucked each of her fingers, she tried to pull her hand away, as if having second thoughts.

“Dariq, perhaps we shouldn’t. I am not a wanton. Your touch muddles my mind and makes me crave wicked things. I shouldn’t feel like this.”

“You are wrong, beauty. Physical attraction between man and woman is a natural thing, sanctioned by both your God and mine. Do not fight it. You know how wonderful it can be between us. I want to love you in all the ways a man can love a woman. Before you leave me, I want to introduce you to pleasure so powerful you will yearn for my touch upon your flesh.”

Before you leave me
. Would nothing change his mind? “You still intend to send me to Ibrahim?”

Sadly he answered, “I have no choice.”

“But I am no longer virginal. Ibrahim will reject me.”

“Once he looks upon you, he will want you despite your lack of maidenhead. No man alive could resist you, and I am very much alive. I am a man who takes what he wants, and I want you.”

Willow couldn’t deny that her body yearned for Dariq’s touch, for his loving. She was no longer an innocent virgin, so what did it matter if he made love to her? She had lived with restrictions all her life, and the wicked promise of Dariq’s loving was too tempting to resist.

She wasn’t ill, nor did she feel weak; she felt empowered by Dariq’s passion. Naught was wrong with her except the desperate need gnawing at her, driving her to madness.

Madness, thy name is Dariq
.

Then she lost the ability to think as Dariq licked down her spine in long, leisurely strokes, murmuring love words in Turkish and English, doing deliciously sinful things to her body.

Willow stifled a cry when he reached the crevice at the bottom of her spine. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to love you if you will be quiet and let me do what I do best. Open your mind to what I am doing; try to think of naught but the way my hands and mouth feel on your skin.”

He laved each mound of her buttocks with his tongue, then trailed his mouth down her legs, clear to her toes. He glanced at her once before sucking one pink digit into his mouth and then each one in turn. Willow had never suspected such an outlandish act could be so erotic. Could not even imagine why a man would wish to do such a thing. But Dariq seemed to know no boundaries. Whatever he did made her yearn for more.

The “more” came when Dariq turned her over and laved her breasts with his tongue and suckled her nipples. She felt her flesh swelling and her nipples puckering as if they had been touched with ice.

Her breathing accelerated; she was panting heavily, her body tense, waiting for Dariq’s next move.

He gazed into her eyes. “Your flesh is a drug I cannot get enough of.”

His words were like an opiate; she wanted to partake of whatever erotic pleasure he offered.

“Are you still cold?” Dariq asked.

“I am afire.”

He grinned. “ ’Tis what I intended.” He caught her hand. “Touch me. I ache for your hands upon my skin.”

She stretched her hand out to his chest, curling her fingers in the mat of hair she found there. His flesh beneath her hand felt hard and soft at the same time. He let her fingers roam over his torso, and then covered her hand with his own, carrying it downward, curling her fingers
around his arousal. She tried to pull away, but he held her hand firmly against him.

“Explore me, beauty. Feel me.”

Mindlessly she obeyed, mesmerized by the intoxicating sound of his voice. She couldn’t have disobeyed if her life depended upon it. She remembered how huge he had felt inside her, and was surprised when he grew thicker and harder in her hand than she recalled.

“Caress my jewels,” he murmured in a voice thick with desire.

“Your jewels?” Willow choked out.

“The sacs that hold my seed. Touch them. Hold them in your hands.”

Her hand closed gently around a sac, felt it harden, saw his sex jerk in response. He groaned as if in pain. She released him instantly. He groaned louder and returned her hand to his manhood. He felt satiny warm, yet hard as stone, every incredible inch of him throbbing with life. Driven by curiosity and her own need, Willow caressed up and down his great length. His breath quickened, becoming harsh gasps that thundered in and out of his chest.

“Stop now, beauty, before you ruin both your pleasure and mine. Turkish men take great pride in giving their women pleasure.”

“Their
women
,” Willow repeated. “Why do Turkish men feel they need more than one woman?”

“Because ’tis not natural for a man to confine himself to one woman. It takes many women to satisfy a virile man. In my world, a man’s virility is measured by the number of concubines he owns. But we please our women as no English or Frankish man can, as I shall prove to you.”

Would her fiancé have been able to satisfy her? Willow wondered. Somehow she doubted it. But before she’d met Dariq she wouldn’t have known the difference. She would have been content with the crumbs of her husband’s affection, unaware of what she was missing.

After experiencing Dariq’s passion, she knew that no other man would ever satisfy her, so why not enjoy what he offered while she could?

Willow’s thoughts scattered when Dariq’s mouth came down hungrily on hers, his tongue pushing past her lips, sending her senses soaring.

Suddenly she pulled back, searching Dariq’s face. “I do want your passion, my lord Prince. Give me enough pleasure to last the rest of my life.”

He grasped her face between his large hands and stared into her eyes. “My passion can be a fierce thing, Willow. Are you ready to accept it?”

Burgeoning excitement shot through her. Beyond speech, she nodded.

Dariq began to kiss her face softly, gently. Her lips. Each of her cheeks. The tip of her nose. Her chin. Her closed eyes. After he had showered her face with kisses, he slowly caressed her body, smoothing his hands over her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach, her buttocks. He fondled the firm mounds until Willow wanted to scream at him to hurry, to continue with his sweet torture.

Dariq could have caressed Willow till eternity. She was sweetly curved with a narrow waist, magnificent breasts and long, shapely legs. He returned his attention to her breasts, cupping them in his large palms, then bringing them to his mouth, suckling gently upon her coral nipples.

Willow stirred beneath him, the erotic sensation of his lips upon her flesh incredibly arousing. She arched her
back, soaring with sweet pleasure. The feeling was erotic and delicious, and she purred her approval. She was so intent upon the wet tug of Dariq’s lips upon her nipple that she momentarily lost track of his hands.

Then she felt them seeking out places that made her tingle and burn, while at the same time his mouth continued feasting at her breasts. Her nipples hardened against his tongue; she heard his breath quicken as an almost unbearable pressure built between her legs.

The heel of his palm rested lightly on the smooth pink mound at the apex of her thighs, massaging in erotic circles. When he pressed lightly on a spot low on her stomach, the sudden burst of pleasure forced a startled cry from her lips.

“What did you just do?”

Dariq grinned. “I can give you pleasure in a thousand different ways.”

His hand slid between her thighs. “Your love juices are flowing.”

“My what?”

He removed his dewy fingers, grasped her hand and brought it between her legs. “You are wet for me. Can you feel it? If I took you now, my cock would slide inside you on a cushion of moisture.”

She pulled her hand free. It came away wet. Her face flooded with color. His hand returned to her dewy petals. “Dariq, what are you … oh, God… don’t … Stop.”

He laughed. “What did you say?”

“Don’t… stop.”

“Never.” Then he created a new torment by gently probing her with his fingers.

Willow moaned. How could she bear it? She went wild beneath him when he lowered his head and kissed her
there, between her legs, feasting on her sensitive flesh until she wanted to scream.

He raised his head and gave her a long, poignant look. “I’m going to bring you pleasure with my mouth first.”

His fingers played upon her slick flesh, parting her as his mouth returned to his banquet. His tongue was like a living flame, delving inside her, tasting, taunting, sending tiny bursts of fire through her body. She felt helpless, as if she were drowning in a whirlpool of raw sensation. And then it began: the heady rise of blood through her veins, the tremors rocking her body, the final explosion that hurled her toward oblivion. Undulating waves of rapture carried her to a distant shore; she heard a low keening and realized it was coming from her own mouth.

“This is just the beginning, beauty,” Dariq murmured in a voice as tightly drawn as a bow.

He scooted upward and knelt over her, watching her expression as she spiraled down from the high place he had sent her.

When Willow opened her eyes, she caught sight of Dariq’s throbbing erection. He was huge, the purple head engorged with blood. She had seen him aroused before, but never like this. Her wits scattered when he began pressing himself inside her, stretching her, pushing deeper, harder, filling her.

“You are still tight,” he whispered against her mouth. She tasted herself on his lips.

“It hurts,” Willow complained, shifting to accommodate his great length.

“You are still new to this. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did the first time, does it?”

She looked up at him, confusion glazing her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Your tightness makes the pleasure all the sweeter,” Dariq said. “Shall I stop?”

“Nay, oh, nay. It feels better now.” She moved her hips, inviting Dariq to thrust deeper, harder.

“Give yourself over to me, beauty. Hold back nothing. Move with me, open to me, come with me.”

The delicious friction of his sex thrusting and withdrawing inside her released a primitive instinct Willow could not suppress. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she opened herself fully to him, raising her hips to meet his powerful strokes.

Waves of liquid fire rippled across her skin and pooled where they were joined. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as he drove her higher and higher, his muscles bunching and shifting beneath her fingertips. She felt passion, so recently spent, rebuilding, ready to burst forth again. Consuming swells of incredible sensation grew, crested, sweeping her upward into mindless bliss. She screamed his name.

Dariq felt her sheath spasm around him, heard his name on her lips and lost control. He thrust deep, held, then found his own pleasure, spewing his seed inside her. He lost all sense of time and place as he spiraled down from euphoria to the most perfect contentment he had ever known.

Dariq had always considered himself a master of sensuality. He was a hedonist who enjoyed erotic pleasure and delighted in finding new and diverse ways to please women. The concubines he’d left behind in Istanbul had vied for his attention because he always left them satisfied, giving unstintingly of himself. Beautiful women, erotic play and sexual excitement were as necessary to him as eating and breathing.

Making love to Willow had been manna for his starving soul.

Suddenly he went still, realizing what he had just done. Cursing his carelessness, he pulled out and rolled over on his back. This was the second time he had lost himself inside Willow, and the consequences could foil his well-laid plans. He prayed to both Allah and God that his seed hadn’t found fertile ground.