‘Shall I be allowed 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 allowed to leave at will, of course, but the Sultan grants his favourite wives certain indulgences. You 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 really like in a harem?’
‘You will 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 full 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 will 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 selling 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 all 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 still 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 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 challenging. ‘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 kill my captors and run away,’ Suleiman replied truthfully. 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 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 will 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.’
‘I would prefer to ride.’
‘Then perhaps I shall allow it one day,’ Suleiman replied. ‘However, today you will 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 shall 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. ‘Will you see that Roxana is 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 travellers 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 called.
Had he really 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 fill 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 alley. 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 fall 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 pull 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