Captive of the Harem

by Anne Herries

  He moved out from behind the pierced wooden screen,

  which had served as his hiding place, just as the woman surfaced

  once more. At first she did not seem to see him, then, when she

  became aware that she was no longer alone, she stared at him

  for a moment, screamed and ducked beneath the water again.

  Suleiman cursed loudly and waded into the pool. The foolish

  woman was trying to kil herself. He saw her beneath the surface and bent down to grab her, but she shot out of his grasp,

  swimming beneath the water to the far side. Then she came up

  gasping for air. He caught a glimpse of her lovely breasts, the

  nipples a deep rose, peaked and tempting, and then she crossed

  her arms over herself, her eyes meeting his in a cold stare.

  She was angry! Suleiman was also angry. He was wet and

  uncomfortable and he realised that she had no intention of

  drowning herself—which made what he had done seem foolish.

  ‘Who are you?’ Eleanor demanded as he waded up the steps

  of the bath. He had been wearing a long, heavily embroidered

  robe over loose white pants and the tunic dragged against him in

  the water. ‘How dare you spy on me?’

  ‘I thought you meant to drown yourself. I did not intend to

  frighten you.’

  frighten you.’

  Eleanor realised that she had spoken in English and that he

  had replied in the same language, clearly as at home in her native

  tongue as she. She had not expected that somehow.

  ‘Go away! You have no right to be here. Mohamed Ali Ben

  Ibn owns me and he wil kil 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 wil 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 shal 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 wil

  make a fine gift for the Sultan.’

  make a fine gift for the Sultan.’

  Eleanor was chiled. So she was to be sold after al!

  ‘Have you bought me?’ He inclined his head, sending strange

  little sensations down her spine as she saw the briliance 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

  al 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 shal 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 shal 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

  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 kiled, 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 wil.’

  ‘You can do as you wil 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

  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 smal 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 pers
uasion instead, he might ransom her to her

  family.

  ‘I shal 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 wil

  look for me and they wil 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

  mouth. ‘Would your family give ten thousand in your English gold

  coin? I might sel 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

  too defiant. From what he knew of the Sultan, her spirit would

  not be particularly appreciated.

  Perhaps Suleiman would keep her for a while…

  Chapter Three

  ‘You are beautiful,’ Roxana said as she brushed Eleanor’s long hair. She sighed and looked at her with sympathy. ‘It is a pity

  that you are destined for the Sultan’s harem and not Suleiman

  Bakhar’s own household.’

  ‘Why?’ Eleanor frowned at her.

  ‘Suleiman Bakhar is young and strong—and they say that to

  be loved by him is like dying and going to paradise. Though

  perhaps this is only gossip brought by servant women to the

  markets.’

  ‘I do not care if he is young and handsome,’ Eleanor said,

  shivering as she remembered the look in those fierce eyes when

  he had threatened to drown her. For a moment she had truly

  believed he might do it. ‘I do not want to be his concubine.’

  ‘He might marry you—if you are clever. Until now he has

  taken only concubines. They say he must marry soon, because

  he must give the Caliph an heir…’

  ‘I have no wish to be his wife!’ Eleanor stared at her in

  horror. ‘I can think of nothing worse.’

  ‘That is because you do not know what it is like to be the

  wife of an old man.’ Something flickered in the older woman’s

  eyes. ‘If you did, you would do al you could to make Suleiman

  notice you and want you for himself.’

  ‘Was it very hard for you, Roxana?’ Eleanor looked at her

  with sympathy. It was easy to see that the older woman had

  once been lovely—and that she had suffered.

  ‘Sometimes I prayed that I might die before night came.’

  ‘Is that why you left me alone in the garden? Did you think I

  might escape? Were you trying to help me?’

  ‘It is not in my power. Had you tried to escape, you could

  not have done so,’ Roxana replied. ‘The wals are high and there

  are guards outside. Besides, if you had got out you would have

  been noticed immediately. The clothes you were wearing marked

  you as an infidel and an unbeliever. You would have been

  chased and caught by the mob—then, when they saw how

  beautiful you are, they would have begun to quarrel over you.

  Unless Mohamed’s men rescued you, you might have been

  raped again and again…’

  Eleanor turned pale. She held up her hands as if to ward off

  the pictures Roxana’s words had brought to life in her mind.

  ‘Enough! It is clearly useless to try and escape in the city—

  but if I managed to slip away outside its wals dressed like

  this…’

  She was wearing a pair of drawers, very ful, which reached

  down to her ankles; they were of a fine green material brocaded

  with gold. Over these, was a smock of a paler green silk gauze,

  edged with pearls; it had loose sleeves which covered as far as

  her elbows and closed at the throat with a cluster of pearls. And

  to Eleanor’s disgust, her breasts were clearly visible through it!

  The waistcoat fitted her close to her body and had very long

  The waistcoat fitted her close to her body and had very long

  sleeves fringed with gold tassels, and the buttons were again

  clusters of pearls. On top of al these was what Roxana had

  caled a caftan, and that was a straight robe that covered her to

  the ankles. A girdle of gold threads woven with what looked like

  precious stones, but must surely be crystals, was fastened with a

  heavy clasp of gold, again set with jewels. If they were jewels.

  But Eleanor was certain they must be false. On her feet she wore

  soft boots that reached just to mid-thigh and were embroidered

  with gold thread.

  It al felt very strange and she protested when she was told

  that she must put on a casacche before she went out. Since this

  was a huge cloak that would envelop her in its folds, and she

  must also wear a veil and a talpock to cover her head, she felt

  she would suffocate.

  ‘It is too much,’ she said. ‘I thought my own gowns were

  restricting enough—but this cloak thing is ridiculous.’

  ‘You wil become accustomed to it,’ Roxana said. ‘When

  you are in the gardens of the harem you wil be able to dispense

  with some of these layers if you choose. However, you wil never

  be alowed to leave the palace wearing less.’

  ‘Shal I be alowed out? I thought that was forbidden—that

  once in a harem women disappeared forever.’

  Roxana smiled. ‘You Western people do not understand our

  culture. Men of good family guard their women for their own

  protection. You would not be alowed to leave at wil, of course,

  but the Sultan grants his favourite wives certain indulgences. You

  may be taken on a shopping expedition—or to some grand

  may be taken on a shopping expedition—or to some grand

  ceremonial occasion.’

  ‘But what of those women who do not have their master’s

 
favour? What is it realy like in a harem?’

  ‘You wil discover that soon enough. Come, Eleanor, you

  must not keep your master waiting or he may become angry.’

  The look Eleanor gave Roxana at that moment was so ful of

  despair that the older woman’s heart was touched. She

  embraced her. ‘It is not always so very terrible. Try to please

  Suleiman Bakhar. If he keeps you for himself, you wil not regret

  it.’

  Eleanor nodded but said no more. She knew that Roxana

  could not help her, that she was free but had no power, no way

  of earning her living other than by seling herself. She lived here

  because she pleased Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn, and was as much at

  his whim as Eleanor would be at her master’s.

  It was terribly unfair, but it was the way of the world. She had

  been spoiled, petted and indulged al her life—and now she had

  no loving father to protect her. She was completely alone. She

  did not even know if her dearest Richard was stil alive, and her

  heart wrenched with pain at the thought of what might have

  happened to him. Richard might already be dead—but she

  would live and she would win her freedom one day.

  She saw Suleiman Bakhar waiting for her in the courtyard,

  and her heart caught for one terrifying moment and then raced

  on. He was truly one of the most impressive men she had ever

  seen, and he looked…wild, an untamed creature and dangerous.

  She should be afraid of him, and yet…there was something that

  She should be afraid of him, and yet…there was something that

  drew her to him, some thin, invisible thread that seemed to bind

  her to him as surely as any cruel chains they might put upon her.

  She lifted her head as she reached him, eyes bright and

  chalenging. ‘Am I to be chained?’

  Suleiman’s gaze narrowed. ‘Should I chain you, Eleanor? Are

  you planning to try and escape?’

  She had hoped there might be an opportunity to slip away

  from him and now realised that she had been foolish to put him

  on his guard. ‘What would you do—if you were in my place?’

  ‘I should kil my captors and run away,’ Suleiman replied

  truthfuly. He laughed deep in his throat, a soft husky sound that

  Eleanor discovered was very attractive. ‘Foolish woman. I have

  never put chains on anything—beast or man—let alone a woman

  with skin as soft as yours.’

  ‘What has the softness of my skin to do with it?’ She gave