by Connie Mason
“Excuse me, my dear, there are arrangements to be made.” He kissed his wife and daughter and left.
Willow didn’t sleep that night. After writing a note for her parents and leaving it in her cabin, she spent the night on deck, watching for the Revenge’s running lights. While she waited and watched, Willow made a plan she knew her father would neither understand nor like, but she had to do what she thought best for herself and Dariq. She still intended to keep her promise to her father, but she had to see Dariq one last time before leaving him forever.
The Revenge arrived with the approaching dawn. She maneuvered behind the English warships and dropped anchor. She flew no flag and was all but invisible in the misty dawn. Shortly afterward, Willow saw four rowboats from the Fairwind being lowered into the water. She assumed the sailors would row ashore to assist in Dariq’s rescue.
Willow waited until the watch had turned away and the sailors were otherwise engaged before scampering down the ladder into one of the boats tethered to the ship. Taking up the oars, she rowed, albeit clumsily, to the Revenge, thanking God it was not far or she never would had made it.
Willow hoped her father would not be too angry when he found her letter. In it she explained that he should follow the Revenge to Lipsi, where she would board the Fairwind and return to England, as she had promised.
Just as her arms were about to give out, the boat bumped against the Revenge’s hull. A sailor looked over the side, gave a shout and lowered the ladder when Willow indicated she wished to board the ship. It was a difficult climb, but she was soon pulled over the rail and welcomed aboard by Mustafa.
Dariq awoke early on the last day of his life. He tried to dwell not on death but on life … Willow’s life. Though she was probably far from Istanbul by now, he would always remain with her in spirit if not in body. His wish for her was that she would find a good man to love, one who would love her in return.
Dariq was brought a meal that morning by a sullen guard. His last meal on this earth. His stomach rebelled, and he pushed the food aside. At mid-morning Ibrahim showed up with a woman.
“I thought you might like to know sexual gratification one last time before you are cast into hell,” the sultan said. “Aziza will pleasure you in any way you desire. I am not as coldhearted as you believe, brother.”
Dariq stared at the lovely woman but felt no desire. He refused to defile the memory of his love for Willow.
“Nay, thank you, brother. Take your houri and leave me in peace.”
“So be it,” Ibrahim said. “Rest in hell, Dariq. I will not be in attendance at your execution. You are not important enough to warrant my leaving the seraglio.”
“Coward!” Dariq accused. “You fear your people will rise up against you to protest my execution.” He sent Ibrahim a grim smile. “You are wise to remain behind walls, brother.”
“I fear no one!” Ibrahim snarled. Dragging Aziza with him, he stormed off.
Dariq sank down on his haunches, contemplating his short life and how he would live it if he were given another chance. Then the guards came to take him away. As the guards led him through the souk, he was vaguely aware of the unruly crowd following him and wondered why the masses had turned out for his execution. Then he saw it—the chopping block and the executioner awaiting him in the square.
Dariq’s pride would not allow him to show fear. His head held high, he maintained his dignity as he walked toward the executioner with firm steps. He gazed directly into the crowd, and what he saw cheered him. Many familiar faces looked back at him. He saw Hassan and friends from his former life in Istanbul. And then he spotted Mustafa and some of his crewmen. For a brief moment he knew hope, but just as quickly it died. They were too few to be of any help.
As Dariq was prodded toward the executioner, something strange occurred. English sailors seemed to be everywhere, mingling with the crowd that had come to watch his execution. Dariq watched in stunned silence as pandemonium erupted within the crowd. Angry voices became raised fists and quickly a small riot had begun. Dariq stared in utter astonishment as people began pushing through the ring of janizaries trying to hold them back.
Before he realized what was happening, the square became a solid mass of human bodies. Momentarily diverted from their prisoner, the janizaries fought to restore order. But it soon became clear that they were fighting a losing battle. The executioner staggered backward as people pushed and shoved him away from Dariq. Then Mustafa was beside him, the men from the Revenge forming a protective circle around him.
“This way, Prince,” Mustafa urged, edging him through a breach that had miraculously parted for them.
English sailors provided a buffer as Dariq and his men slipped through the crowd. When a hue and cry arose, Dariq realized the janizaries had noticed his disappearance, and he feared that he and his men were all doomed.
Then another miracle occurred. The English sailors regrouped and formed a formidable blockade, allowing Dariq and his men to flee unhampered. Dariq had no idea who had organized this incredible uprising, but he was exceedingly grateful.
Dariq ran through the winding streets to the docks and leapt into one of the boats tied to the pier, while his crewmen scrambled into a second boat.
“The English sailors are shielding us from the janizaries,” Mustafa said.
“Where are Kamel and Ali Hara?” Dariq asked.
“There they are,” Mustafa said, pointing to the two men racing along the pier.
As soon as the eunuchs reached them and found a place in the boat, they shoved off. The remaining boats followed in quick succession.
“I hope the English sailors reach their ship without loss of life,” Dariq said worriedly.
“Look what is happening!” Mustafa shouted. “The crowd is forming a solid mass of bodies between the janizaries and the sailors. The janizaries cannot reach the sailors. The crowd is forming a human shield to aid our escape.”
“Where is Willow?” Dariq asked anxiously.
“Aboard her father’s ship,” Ali Hara replied. “Your lady’s father arrived with enough force behind him to convince Ibrahim to release her. When Mustafa saw the English ships in the harbor, we assumed Lady Willow’s father had come for her and concocted a rescue plan. All we had to do was convince Lord Bramston to cooperate with us. While Mustafa left to fetch the Revenge, I approached the marquis.”
“I am surprised he agreed.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Ali Hara said, “but in the end, he agreed. I gave him directions to Lipsi so he can bring your lady to you.”
Dariq thought the marquis was as likely to take Willow to Lipsi as to Timbuktu.
They reached the Revenge in good time. Dariq scrambled up the ladder first, and his men followed. The mood aboard ship was jubilant as the men congratulated each other. By the grace of God and Allah, Dariq was alive and none of his men had been injured. And Ali Hara and Kamel had elected to join the Brotherhood.
Soon the men and boats were aboard. “Unfurl the sails!” Dariq shouted. “The tide is turning and the wind is with us. Set a course for Lipsi.”
Mustafa took over the wheel. Wind whipped the canvas, and the sails filled with air as the Revenge slowly picked up speed, leaving Istanbul behind. Legs braced, Dariq stood at the rail as they sailed through the Bosporus, his spyglass following the course of the Fairwind.
“Fear not, my lord, Lady Willow’s father will bring her to you,” Ali Hara said, answering Dariq’s unspoken question.
Dariq wasn’t so sure. Perhaps Willow wouldn’t be happy living on Lipsi and had decided to return to England. He knew Willow deserved better than a pirate for a husband; it wasn’t the life her family had envisioned for her. Could love breach the gap between their worlds?
Nor did living in England appeal to Dariq. He had riches enough to keep him and Willow in luxury for the rest of their lives, in England or anywhere else she desired, but he knew intuitively that English society would not accept a reformed pirate. He was untitled and hi
s features too foreign.
Dariq sighed deeply. The disparity in their backgrounds was one he and Willow would have to work out.
A sailor sidled up to Dariq. “Your bath awaits you in your cabin, my lord.”
Dariq’s dark brows shot upward. “It seems you have read my mind. Thank you, Akbad.”
Akbad smirked but said nothing more as Dariq started toward his cabin. Dariq wore a puzzled expression when he noted that Akbad wasn’t the only man grinning at him. Shrugging, he continued on to his cabin, deciding that his men were merely happy to see him alive.
Dariq opened the cabin door and stepped inside, eager for the promised bath. The stink of his body nauseated him. He spied the wooden tub and the steam rising above it and smiled. By the time he reached it, he had shed his clothes, flinging them hither and yon.
Then he saw her. He froze in mid-step as she stepped from the shadows at the far end of the cabin. He whispered her name and she flew into his arms, her cheeks wet with tears.
He kissed her and knew paradise again. She was here, in his arms, and he never intended to let her go.
“How—” he whispered against her lips.
“It does not matter. I wanted to be here when you arrived.”
She stepped back, her gaze sliding over every inch of his body. “Are you all right?”
“As you can see, I am fine, love. I will show you just how well I am once the stench of the dungeon is off me. While I wash, you can tell me how you got here.”
Willow had no intention of ruining their reunion by telling Dariq she was leaving him, that their reunion was only temporary. She would save that for another day. Telling him now would hurt him too much, even though he would have to know before they reached Lipsi.
Dariq stepped into the tub and sank down into the water, groaning his pleasure. “I was stunned to see the English warships in the harbor,” he began. “When Selim Pasha said you were being sent home, I assumed it would be on a Turkish ship. I had no idea your father had arrived in Istanbul to fetch you until Mustafa told me. How did the marquis convince Ibrahim to let you go, and how did you persuade your father to send his sailors to aid my escape?”
“I do not know what Papa told Ibrahim, but warships carrying soldiers and big guns probably convinced him. As for getting Papa to help you, I told him I loved you and would never forgive him if he refused,” Willow said as she picked up the cloth and soap.
“Ali Hara and Mustafa hatched the plan to rescue you when they saw English ships in the harbor and assumed they had come for me. When Ali Hara outlined their plan to Papa, I urged him to help.”
“It seems too easy,” Dariq muttered. “Your father has no reason to like me. I am the man who kidnapped his daughter and took her virginity.”
“You are the man I love. Lean over so I can scrub your back.”
Willow didn’t want to get into particulars right now. She and Dariq were together, and that was all that mattered. She wanted him so desperately that her hands shook as she ran the cloth over his back and shoulders.
When she moved around to his front, Dariq captured her hand, bringing it down between his thighs. The breath caught in her throat. His staff was hard as marble, jutting proudly upward against his stomach. Though it cost her dearly, Willow jerked her hand away.
“First your bath,” she teased, keeping her voice light. If he noticed that her heart was breaking, she would have to tell him she was leaving him, and it was too soon.
Taking the cloth from her, Dariq hurried through his bath, leaving his hair for the last. Willow picked up a jar and poured clean water over his head to rinse out the soap. Then, before she realized his intention, he surged up from the tub. Dripping water on the deck, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He set her on her feet.
Catching his enthusiasm, Willow pulled her wet bodice away from her chest. “Look what you did.”
Laughing, Dariq shook his head, spraying her with water.
Willow grabbed a towel and dried his hair, but that was as far as she got. Dariq was as eager for her as she was for him. Reaching for her, he undressed her quickly, ignoring most of the tiny buttons marching down the front of her gown.
“Why must English women wear all these layers of clothing?” he muttered as he pulled the bodice down her shoulders, taking her chemise with it. Then he pushed the gown past her hips and lifted her from the pool of material at her feet. Unhampered by clothing, they tumbled into the bed.
Willow kissed his mouth, his damp throat, wanting him so badly she began to tremble, aware that each passing minute diminished their time together.
“Come inside me,” Willow pleaded.
Though his eyes were narrowed with heat and raging lust, he took his sweet time arousing her. He nuzzled her breast, flicking his tongue over her nipple. “Not yet, beauty.”
Willow reached up to touch his chest. His skin felt damp and hot; his muscles contracted beneath her fingertips.
Dariq groaned and gathered her against him; the hard points of her nipples teased his chest as he positioned his rigid sex at the weeping entrance to her body. Taut anticipation screamed through Willow. She had been starved for him; needed to feel him inside her. She arched up against him, begging him without words.
“Not yet,” Dariq rasped raggedly. “I want to taste you first.” He moved over her body, laving her skin with his tongue as he traveled downward, until he reached that tender place between her thighs.
She shuddered when she felt his fingers pressing her swollen folds open, and then his tongue touched the delicate jewel between them. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he licked her in long, sinuous laps that made her body throb with unrelenting delight.
Willow could not stop the motion of her hips rising upward in repeated surges. His hands slid beneath her, guiding her rhythm while his tongue strummed, bathed, teased. She whimpered incoherently as sensations tumbled one after another, drawing her toward an unendurable peak.
Willow moaned out a protest when Dariq lifted his head and levered his body upward. “Please, please …”
Flexing his hips, he entered her. Willow cried out, her yielding flesh tightening around him. As his kisses scorched her throat, her mouth, his engorged shaft delved deep inside her liquid center. He withdrew almost to the head of his shaft, then drove deep again, moving slowly and steadily in long, pleasuring strokes.
She melted around him, began to move with him, her hips meeting his in frantic urgency. She felt as if her world began and ended with Dariq. She wanted him, wanted this, only with him, for the rest of her life.
His mouth covered hers, muffling her cries as she shattered in his arms. Her body shook with violent spasms, the walls of her passage gripping his sex hard, convulsing around him. Dariq let out a groan and seized her hips with both hands, spending his own passion.
He collapsed against her, his heart so filled with love, he was nearly bursting with it. Somehow, he vowed, he and Willow would have a future together. Somehow they would find a place in this vast world where they could be happy together.
Willow’s thoughts ran in a different direction. Despite Dariq’s nearness, she was sad because she knew that today was the beginning of the end. She had given her promise to her father, and pride demanded that she keep it. It would destroy her, but the knowledge that Dariq was alive and well would see her through the difficult days, weeks and years without him. She thought about the child she carried, and smiled. She would always have a small part of Dariq to love.
Willow’s secret would have to remain a secret, however. If Dariq knew she carried his child, he would fight tooth and nail to keep it and her.
Dariq stirred, rose up on his elbows and gazed into Willow’s eyes. “I love you, Willow. There is plenty of time to decide where on this earth we can be happy.”
Willow did not reply as he shifted off her and stretched out beside her. There was nothing she could say.
“I want to have children with you,” he murmured against her
hair. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
If Dariq hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly after his heartfelt declaration, he would have seen the silent tears streaming down Willow’s cheeks.
Chapter Twenty
The following days couldn’t have been more idyllic for Willow. The weather continued warm and sunny, and her nights overflowed with passion. But undermining Willow’s happiness was the knowledge that they would reach Lipsi long before she was ready to leave Dariq. She had but to look behind her to see her father’s ship dogging the Revenge. He must have been livid when she was discovered missing and he read her note. She was surprised he hadn’t brought the warships with him, but those vessels had parted ways with the Fairwind and set a course for England.
As Willow stood at the rail, gazing at the blue-green sea, she became aware of a dark mass hovering on the horizon. Her first sight of land sent her heart plummeting down to her feet.
“That’s Lipsi in the distance,” Dariq said from behind her.
She leaned back against him, taking comfort in the solid warmth of his body. His arms came around her, and he planted a kiss on top of her head.
“We are almost home, my love. I’m glad your father decided to visit. I have yet to thank him for the part he played in my rescue. I hope he will accept my hospitality for a few days before returning to England.”
“Did I tell you my mother is with Papa?” Willow mentioned.
Dariq chuckled against her ear. “I’ve given you very little time for conversation. Have they reconciled?”
“Aye, isn’t it wonderful? I knew they still loved each other, but they were both too stubborn to be the first to admit that mistakes had been made in their marriage.”
“There will be no mistakes in ours, my love. Your parents are leaving you in good hands.”
Willow shifted uncomfortably. Time was running out. She had to tell Dariq tonight that she was leaving him. The pain of parting came crashing down on her, and she sagged beneath its weight. Dariq’s arms tightened around her.
“What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
