by Anne Herries
him a haughty look.
‘Chains would mark you and mean you were worth less,’ he
replied, his expression inscrutable.
‘Of course—I should have known.’ For a moment she had
thought he was being compassionate. He was a barbarian and a
savage—she should not expect anything from such a man. ‘How
am I supposed to ride in this ridiculous thing?’
Suleiman looked at the cloak that enfolded her. ‘You could
not ride like that. You wil be carried in a litter. It is the usual
mode of travel for a woman of class here. I did not know that
you could ride.’
you could ride.’
‘I would prefer to ride.’
‘Then perhaps I shal alow it one day,’ Suleiman replied.
‘However, today you wil be carried in the litter. Come, I am
ready to leave.’
Eleanor looked round for Roxana, but she had slipped away
as soon as she had delivered her charge. Besides, there was
nothing the Morisco woman could have done to help her.
‘Are you afraid?’ Suleiman asked as he saw her hesitation.
‘You have no need to be. You are being taken to my apartments
for the moment. I have decided I shal let the older women of my
father’s household school you in the manners you need before
you are fit to grace the harem of any man.’
At that Eleanor’s head came up, eyes flashing with anger.
‘Afraid—of you? Why should I be? You are merely a man…’
‘Truly, this is so. Why should you be afraid of me? You have
no need to be—if you please me.’ Suleiman’s smile flickered
deep in the silver depths of his strange eyes. His remarks had
had their desired effect. Her pride had leant her courage. ‘Your
escort awaits you, lady.’
She felt a tingle at the base of her spine. He had addressed
her as a woman of quality at last, and he was behaving as though
she were his equal instead of a slave he had bought. Perhaps she
might yet persuade him it would be better to ransom her.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ she responded graciously. If he thought
she needed to be taught manners, she would show him how an
English gentlewoman behaved. ‘Wil you see that Roxana is
rewarded for her kindness to me, please?’
rewarded for her kindness to me, please?’
‘It has already been done.’ Suleiman smiled. What a proud
beauty she was! Already he was beginning to regret that his
father had need of a gift for the Sultan. ‘We should leave before
the sun begins to set. It can come suddenly in this land, and my
father’s house is outside the city…at times there are bands of
lawless bandits who roam the countryside looking for unwary
travelers to rob. We have guards to protect us, but I would not
have you frightened by these rogues on your first night in your
new country.’
‘You are considerate, my lord,’ she said and inclined her
head. ‘But this is not my country—it is merely a place I must live
in until I can regain my freedom.’
Suleiman’s gaze narrowed, but he refused to be drawn. She
was like the hawks that fluttered desperately against the bars of
their cage. When she had learned to be obedient to her master’s
voice, she would learn that she could fly high and free once more
—provided that she returned to his hand when caled.
Had he realy made up his mind to keep her? It was a risk,
for the Sultan might learn of Suleiman’s treasure and be angry
because it had not been given to him. If Suleiman kept this
woman for himself, he must find another treasure for the Sultan
—but not a woman. It would be an insult to give their lord an
inferior treasure. Something else rare and precious must be found
to take her place…
He was lost in his thoughts, and turned carelessly aside to
speak to one of his men as they emerged into a street that was
already beginning to fil with the shadows of night. Until one of
already beginning to fil with the shadows of night. Until one of
his men gave a shout of alarm, he did not realise that Eleanor had
dropped her casacche and started to run. What did she think she
was doing? Foolish, foolish woman! Had she no idea of the
dangers of this city? Alone and at night she would disappear into
some stinking hovel and never be seen again.
‘Eleanor! Come here at once!’
He began to run as he shouted, sprinting after her down the
narrow aley. She was fast, but she could not outrun him and it
was not long before he caught up to her. He grabbed her arm,
but she struggled and wrenched away again; he lunged at her and
brought her down into the dust of the street. She scratched his
face, fighting and kicking as she fought to throw him off, but he
held her as easily as he would a child, laughing down at her as
she raged in frustration.
‘You would make a fine Janissary, my little bird—but do not
make me hurt you more than I already have.’ His eyes gleamed
with triumph as he gazed down at her and Eleanor experienced
the oddest feeling deep down inside her—it was as if a tide of
molten heat had begun to rise up in her. ‘Come, defy me no
more.’
‘You have not hurt me!’ she said defiantly, but it was a lie
because the fal had hurt her shoulder and his weight had crushed
the breath from her. ‘I hate you! You are a barbarian and a
savage!’
Yet even as she lay beneath him and gazed into his fierce
eyes, she felt the pul of his power and charm. He was not what
eyes, she felt the pul of his power and charm. He was not what
she had named him, for if he had been she would have been
treated more harshly. Her breath caught in her throat and she
experienced a strange longing—a desire to be held in his arms
and comforted.
Comforted by this man! What foolish idea was that? Her wits
must be addled!
‘It was your own fault,’ he said as he puled her roughly to
her feet. ‘You were foolish to try and run from me—there are
worse things than being in a harem. You would have been taken
a dozen times before this night was out and worse…’
‘Nothing could be worse!’ She flung the words at him. ‘You
wil never take me wilingly. No man wil take me wilingly…I
shal fight to my last breath.’
‘Then you wil suffer,’ Suleiman replied, his features harsh and
unforgiving. ‘If I wanted you…and I do not think you worth the
bother…I would soon have you eating from my hand like a
dove.’
‘Hawks kil doves for their food,’ Eleanor retorted. ‘And you
are a hawk—wild and dangerous.’
Suleiman’s anger faded as swiftly as it had flared. He
considered her words a compliment rather than the insult she had
intended and was amused. He smiled and took her arm, leading
her firmly back to where the litter and horses were waiting.
‘I’m not going to wear that thing,’ Eleanor said as she saw
that one of his men had picked up her cloak. ‘And I am not
going to be c
arried in that stupid litter.’
‘Then you wil ride with me,’ Suleiman said, a glimmer of
‘Then you wil ride with me,’ Suleiman said, a glimmer of
amusement in his eyes. ‘And you have only yourself to blame for
this, Eleanor.’
He picked her up and flung her over his saddle so that she lay
face down, then mounted swiftly before she could attempt to
wriggle free. His knees were pressed against her, the reins firmly
gripped above her head and she knew she could not free herself.
‘You devil! Let me down at once! You cannot treat me like
this! I am a lady…if you know what that means.’
‘Be careful, Eleanor,’ he warned, but there was laughter in his
voice. ‘I may have to beat you if you continue to flaunt my
orders. My men are watching and I cannot alow a woman to
dictate to me. You wil lie there quietly until I decide to let you up
—or you wil be sorry.’
As he kicked his horse into a sudden canter at the same time
as he spoke these words, Eleanor was unable to do anything.
She was fuming, but she was also very uncomfortable. How dare
he do this to her? She was indignant.
‘You are a brute,’ she muttered into the blanket that lay
beneath his leather saddle. ‘I hate you. You are just like those
murdering pirates who kiled my father. I would have kiled them
if I could—I wil kil you if I get the chance!’
‘Speak louder, Eleanor,’ Suleiman said. ‘I cannot hear you.’
She could hear the mockery in his voice and knew that he
was laughing at her. He did not believe she could touch him—
because he was too arrogant and sure of himself. He was
accustomed to being obeyed instantly, and thought himself al-
powerful. Wel, just let him wait! One of these days she would
powerful. Wel, just let him wait! One of these days she would
make him sorry!
They had left the city wals behind before Suleiman stopped
and lifted her into a sitting position, his arm about her waist
pressing her to him, as much his prisoner as before. She had
seen nothing but a blur of stone wals and dirt streets, keeping
her eyes closed most of the time because she had been afraid of
faling if she did not concentrate.
‘Is that better?’ he asked softly against her hair. ‘I am sorry,
little bird. That was unkind of me—but you made me angry.
Besides, I had to make sure you could not get away from me.
Constantinople is a dangerous place for a woman—especialy
one as lovely as you.’
‘I know…Roxana told me.’ Eleanor was leaning back against
him; she had been feeling dizzy when he raised her, but now the
unpleasant sensation was beginning to fade and she was oddly
comforted by the feel of his strong arms about her as they rode.
‘I would not have run…but I was afraid.’
‘You told me you were not.’
‘How could I not be?’ Eleanor turned her head to glance at
his face. ‘You are going to give me to the Sultan. I cannot bear
to be the concubine of a man I do not know—a much older
man…’
‘Would you prefer to be my concubine?’ Suleiman whispered
huskily against her hair, his voice so soft and low that she was
not sure she had heard him correctly.
not sure she had heard him correctly.
‘I—I do not—’
What she was about to say was lost, for one of Suleiman’s
men gave a warning shout and, looking over his shoulder,
Suleiman cursed. A smal group of black robed men were riding
fast towards them.
‘Bandits,’ he said. ‘Hold tight, Eleanor. If you are taken by
these men, you wil wish you had died…’
Suleiman kicked at his horse’s flank and they set off at a
tremendous pace across the open countryside. She could see the
pinkish stone wals of a great sprawling palace looming up ahead
of them in the gathering darkness. Behind her she heard shouting
and screaming as Suleiman’s men joined battle with the bandits
to alow him to reach the palace in safety, and then, as they drew
close to the huge wooden gates they opened and a smal troupe
of horsemen raced out to join the escort guards.
‘You are safe now, little one,’ Suleiman whispered in her ear.
‘You must not be afraid. Do what the women tel you and no
harm wil come to you. I give you my word.’
‘The word of a barbarian?’
‘The word of Caliph Bakhar’s son,’ Suleiman replied. ‘You
wil discover soon that that means more than you might
imagine…’
Eleanor waited as he leapt down from his horse’s back and
lifted her to the ground. Men had come running, and also an
older woman dressed al in black. At a command from her
master, she took Eleanor’s arm and led her away. Eleanor
looked back and saw that Suleiman had mounted a fresh horse.
He was going back outside the gates to fight with his men. She
wanted to stop him, to beg him not to risk his life, but he would
not have listened. She was nothing, merely a slave he had bought
as a gift for another man.
‘What is happening?’ she asked the old woman, who was
puling at her arm. ‘Is the palace being attacked? Why has
Suleiman gone back out there?’
The woman shook her head, clearly not understanding a
word she said. Eleanor tried the same question in French, but
there was no response.
The woman began to talk to her in what was probably
Arabic. Eleanor thought she recognised a few words, but was
not certain—though it was obvious that the woman wanted
Eleanor to go with her. There was no point in resisting any
further for the moment; besides, al the fight had suddenly gone
out of her. Oddly, her fears at this moment were more for the
man who had brought her here than for herself.
He had told her she would not be harmed if she did as the
women told her and somehow she believed him. But what of
him? It was obvious that those men who had folowed them were
armed and dangerous—would Suleiman be kiled in the fighting?
She suddenly discovered that the thought appaled her.
Nothing must happen to Suleiman Bakhar! He was her only
chance of ever being alowed to return to her family. She had
caled him a savage and a barbarian, but in her heart she knew
he was not that—though she did not know what kind of a man
he was not that—though she did not know what kind of a man
he realy was. He looked fierce and proud, and undoubtedly he
was—but she believed there was a softer side to him. If she
could reach that inner core, then there might be a faint hope for
her…nothing must happen to him.
‘May Alah keep you safe,’ she whispered. ‘And may God
be with you this night.’
Let her prayers be heard by his god or hers. It did not matter
at this moment as long as he lived. For, despite her attempts to
escape him, and her anger at the way she had been treated,
something deep inside her told her that she had been fortunate to
be bought by this
man…
‘Alah be praised!’ Caliph Bakhar said when they brought
him the news that Suleiman had returned to the palace triumphant
with his prisoners, who would be speedily dispatched the next
morning at dawn. ‘These bandits have been a thorn in my side
for too long. My son has done wel.’
He had been furious that Suleiman had put his own life at risk,
but now that he was safe and the bandits taken, the Caliph’s
pride knew no bounds. Suleiman was a worthy son!
‘Ask my son to eat with me this evening,’ Ahmed Bakhar
said to the chief eunuch. ‘I wish to tel him of my pleasure in his
victory.’
Suleiman was emerging from his bath as the request was
brought to him. He frowned, wrapping himself in a large white
towel and waving the slave away.
towel and waving the slave away.
‘Tel my honoured father that I wil come soon,’ he said. ‘Ask
him to forgive me that I do not come at once.’
Another eunuch was waiting to help him dress. He alowed
the creature to help him on with a simple white tunic and
trousers. He would put on his costly robes when he went to his
father’s apartments—but for the moment he must visit the
injured. His men had fought bravely against the bandits and one
had died. Suleiman must make arrangements for him to be given
a funeral worthy of a hero, and for recompense to be sent to his
family.
He would have liked to send for Eleanor this evening, to talk
to her—for he understood how strange it must be for a Western
woman to suddenly find herself cast into an alien world. His
mother had spoken to him of her own feelings when she first
entered his father’s harem, and although she had been very
different from Eleanor—a quietly spoken, gentle woman—she
had feared what she did not understand.
‘I had been told that al Turks were savages,’ she had said to
her son as they sat talking together during their privileged
afternoons. ‘I was afraid that my new master would rape and
beat me—but your father was kind and considerate and very
soon I came to love him.’
Before he went to see his men, he must make sure that
Eleanor was being treated as a woman of her class was entitled
to be, even in a harem. She ought to have her own rooms and a
servant to wait on her. He believed there was an Englishwoman
in the palace…an old crone who had long since been put to
