The Surrender of a Lady (18 page)

Checking the door Rothburn just exited, she tried to open it. There was no lock on the inside; he probably had the key tucked in his pocket. Away from her. She smacked her palms against the door and swore in Turkish.

She sat on a chair placed near the windows and stared outside. No stirrings, no movement, not a soul to be seen even after she’d thrown the candelabra at the glass. How much staff did Rothburn keep on hand? She wouldn’t put it past him to have sent most of them away while he tried to acquaint her with this place.

But
that
wouldn’t happen.

How could it? While she was here, Amir was either enraged or worried about her—maybe both—and probably frantic to find her. What would her sisters tell her little boy? Her son . . . God, her son, she didn’t want to think about him. It hurt too much.

How had Rothburn stolen her out of the harem? No woman had ever left the palace. That was just how it was, and how she always expected it to be. Surely there were patrons in the past who adored their mistresses and wanted them all to themselves. Maybe they tried to negotiate their freedom. Maybe they’d stolen them from the palace but been caught. What of the guards who stood and watched over the patrons?

If the harem girls couldn’t persuade the eunuchs to let them pass—it seemed none of her sisters had wanted to leave in all the years she’d been there—then how had Rothburn accomplished this Herculean feat?

She shook her head at the thought. Did it really matter how he’d secreted her out of her home? The only thing that should worry her now was finding her way back.

Even if she did escape Rothburn, where would she go? She had no money, no jewels aside from the gold bracelets around her wrists and ankles. And a few small diamonds and emeralds in the clip holding her veil in place. The best she could do was beg one of his servants for help. Maybe then they would be rewarded greatly if they helped her find passage out of this villa.

But where would she go?

Constantinople?

Harry Chisholm was well known in the slave markets, but it was too dangerous for a woman to go there without a protector. Women were nothing without their husbands or owners guarding them. No, she couldn’t risk going back to Constantinople alone.

Was it possible she could persuade someone to go on her behalf? There must be someone—a youth who wanted to be a damsel’s knight in shining armor—someone to take pity on her in her predicament.

There was just one major flaw in her plan.

How was she to communicate with any of the servants when she couldn’t speak Italian? Had Rothburn deliberately brought that maid to her because there was no way for Jinan to confide her secrets?

So, Jinan, what are you going to do now?

Had the charade played its turn? She didn’t think so. But she wouldn’t wager on seeing her son any time soon if she didn’t find the empathetic heart of some sweet maid or stable hand.

“Bugger it all to hell.”

He’d been an utter ass to her. How could he have done that? What had gone through his thick head as he tore away her towel and thrust up into her warm, pliant, soft . . . fuck it all to hell!

His cock was still hard, straining painfully against his trousers. He’d had to untuck his shirt to hide the monstrous reaction he was having to the delectable Jinan. What kind of bounder was he to do such a thing to the woman he professed to love? Thank God he’d registered her refusal and stopped what he’d started.

If a man loved a woman, would he steal her like some barbarian thief in the night? He was a sick, twisted man. The smashing of glass rang through the hall as Peters opened the door. Griffin wondered if he should go to her, then discarded the thought. He needed to gather his thoughts. Cool his temper.

“What has the heathen done?” Peters asked as he entered the study.

His voice was light and teasing, but Griffin was irritated by the whole turn of events and not in the mood for such frivolous commentary. He turned to stare at Peters while continuing to pace to and fro in front of the great mahogany desk that took up one wall of the study.

“Refrain from insults. Unless you feel like being unmanned and picking yourself up off the street when I toss you out on your ass.”

Peters only smiled at the threat before he sat down on a leather chair across from the desk. He watched Peters steeple his fingers and settled in for a lecture. “Has she gotten the better of you?”

“Damn it. Shut that mouth of yours, Peters.” He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “That woman’s going to drive me mad.”

Peters raised a brow in amusement. “Never did I think to see this day.”

“Well, believe it.” Griffin roughly brushed his fingers through his hair.

How could he have guessed she’d want to go back to that place? She was English, not Muslim, not a whore, and most certainly not the princess she pretended to be. When had Elena surrendered her life to play at being a sex slave? How was it possible for someone, more specifically a lady, brought up in English society, to throw away her beliefs and embrace the depravities of the darker parts of the world? He had practically handed it all back to her on a platter and she had had the audacity to refuse it, to throw it in his face.

Shouldn’t she be grateful to him for her freedom? Shouldn’t she throw herself down at his feet in gratitude and eternal thankfulness? Not beg to be sent back to her master!

Had he misjudged her?

It wasn’t possible. Or was it? This line of thought angered him to no end. Then there was the child. Had she had the child with Amir? With another patron?

None of it really mattered.

He knew what was best. In the end, she wouldn’t choose the life of a harlot over a life with someone of his status. He had so much more to offer her. Life without servitude, for one. Though what he offered probably seemed no better to her. In time, it would. That was what mattered.

How in hell had he acted so harshly with her? He’d violated something sacred between them; it didn’t matter that sexual relations had been a paid service beforehand.

He’d never done such a thing to a woman. Never.

Worse, he still
wanted
to do
that
to Jinan.

He was sinking in frustration, annoyance, and just plain anger because of her continuing charade. He’d outsmart her soon enough. Or it would be certain madness for them both.

“Arrange for only Italian-speaking maids to attend us in my room. In fact, it might be better to remove anyone from the property who speaks English. I have a feeling Jinan cannot understand Italian. I know she’s fluent in English, Persian, and Turkish. I don’t want her pleading her woes to the staff. They don’t need to know any more than necessary.”

“It’s already been done. There were few here who have a handle on the English language. Those who could speak it are on paid leave.”

“That’s good. I have to go back upstairs.”

Was that really a smart idea, though? Had he killed the passion in her? He rubbed at his eyes, wishing the image of her perfectly shaped form didn’t keep him in a raging stiffness. What in hell had he just done?

He’d have to apologize. Maybe he could take her down to the gardens, let her have some fresh air and beg forgiveness for his actions. Would she forgive him? He could tell her his ultimate plan to marry her. Or was it the wrong time now?

Damn it. It did him no good either way. He was annoyed about what he’d done and how he’d taken her. Peters just watched him with amusement, further annoying him. What would happen if he went back upstairs? Would he force himself on her again?

He paused in his pacing and sat on the edge of the desk. Perhaps she acted spiteful in hopes he’d bring her back to her old master? Could it all be a ruse on her part? Inflaming his desires so he felt like a fool? Acted like a fool? Had she known he would do that?

In fairness, she’d probably acted the way she did out of worry for her son. Assurance that he would retrieve her son was the only way this could move forward. The only way she’d forgive him.

“Tell the staff dinner will be late tonight. Around ten. No one is to disturb me in the meantime.”

Hopefully Jinan would settle in a little by that time. He was going to apologize. No, that would only prove he was in the wrong by kidnapping her. If he apologized, she’d still insist on him taking her
home
.

This was her home now. She’d have to get used to that idea. Once she realized how much freedom was within her grasp, how much more she was entitled to here—once he could trust her with said freedom—she’d be melting with gratitude.

“We must come to an understanding, Jinan.”

His plan was not going as he wished. She paced before him, refusing to meet his gaze—refusing to listen to reason.

“There is nothing for us to understand. I will not change my mind. You must let me go home. Or you must bring me back to the harem immediately.”

“Maybe we are starting this conversation—or negotiation, if you will—in the wrong place for us to come to an understanding.”

“You will never see it my way, my lord.”

“Please, Jinan. We’ve been over this a hundred times, if not more—stop addressing me as
my lord
. Use Rothburn, Griffin, I care not. Just stop
lord
ing me.”

Pinching the skin between her brows, she closed her eyes. She was probably coming up with some reprimand to suitably knock him down another notch. He couldn’t seem to sway her from this silly insistence that she needed to go back to the harem now. What had Amir threatened the harem women with, to hold to this notion that their lives were at risk? Interesting how she never once mentioned her son might be in danger. That told him—or at least he hoped that meant—Amir would not hurt his women.

She continued her pacing back and forth on the carpet, her hands always rubbing at her face, and driving him to distraction.

“Cease this pacing of yours, please.” Griffin stood and took a few steps toward her. He’d force her to stop and look at him if she didn’t do as asked.

She stopped, her eyes narrowed as she turned to him. That damned veil snug as ever over her lower face.

He was incensed by the mere sight of it. “Remove your disguise, Jinan. It’s unnecessary at this point, don’t you think?”

“No. I will not remove my veil. You see, it is very necessary. You are not my husband, so you cannot demand anything of me.” She continued pacing. “Do you know it is a disgrace for one such as I to come to such a transgression? I should never be seen by anyone but my husband, so your demands mean nothing. Even Amir will not marry me. He has made me this creature, yes. I despise what he thought necessary for my fate. But this is the only life I have known for a long time.”

“How long were you in the harem?” One question he was curious about and had never asked her.

“Five years. Time is irrelevant, though.”

“I’ve had enough of this arguing”—he held a hand out in invitation—“come to bed. We will figure these things out in the morning. You are tired from the journey, and your bout of sickness. And I’m just plain weary of everything.”

He didn’t miss her quick glance at the closed door.

“This is also another bad idea. You do not seem to understand the importance of contacting Amir.”

“No, I do not. Nor do I plan to send the missive you requested. You could tell me the truth of why you are so eager to leave my company. Or we go to bed. Now.”

He held his hand out to her again. Instead of taking it, she walked past him and into the bedroom. The
ferace
she’d produced from his wardrobe was loosened from where it was secured under her arm and dropped to the floor. She turned when he didn’t make another move forward.

“Is this not what you want of me? I am a slave to you as much as I was to Amir.”

“You are mistaken in that.” He swallowed with great difficulty against the lump that had formed in his throat.

She raised one brow in disbelief and shrugged her shoulder. “If you wish to pretend so.”

“I do not wish to pretend anything with you, Jinan. You are the one fabricating one lie upon another. I have given you a gift and you refuse my generosity. I’ve made a million promises to find a way to free your son but you think the venture foolish.”

“This is not generous, taking me from my home. You think I will grow to like this, I see that, but it is not how it will be. My home is with my sisters. My son. With . . .” She didn’t finish what she was going to say. He was glad for it, because another mention of Amir might set him off again.

“Do not deny there is a connection between us. It’s been there since the moment we met. The very first time we met.” At the Glenmoores’ ball. Surely she knew that was what he referred to.

He wearied of this game. He was not the villain in all that had transpired between them since her arrival. At least he hadn’t intentionally meant to be. Time was the only factor that would show her the very truth of his words, his kindness, his love. Why could she not see he wanted the best for her? It was nothing he could give a lot of thought to now; he was too damned tired from the trip here. This night could prove to be a long one if Jinan didn’t cooperate.

“Do I need to tie you to the bedposts or will you stay put?”

She didn’t answer as she crawled seductively across the bed and tossed the blankets aside.

“There are night linens in the wardrobe for you.”

“I do not want these clothes of yours.”

“I’m not in the mood to fight with you, Jinan. You did not want my attentions earlier, I cannot imagine you want them now. Put on some clothes.”

“Stop telling me what I should do. You are not my owner.”

Damn impertinent woman. Fine, let her have her way in this. Griffin pulled his neckcloth off and tossed his shirt toward the chair. There was no way for her to get out of his rooms should she leave the bed without him noticing. His key was well hidden. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his boots off and slid out of his trousers. He thought about removing his smallclothes and stopped himself from taking them off.

Letting out a great yawn, he pushed the blankets farther down on the bed and scooped Jinan into his arms so her back was to his chest. “Sleep well,” was all he said as his fingers wrapped around her bared breast. Good thing he was too tired to do anything about the raging cockstand jutting out and pressing into her backside.