Innocent in the Harem

Michelle Willingham

Ottoman Empire, 1565

Prince Khadin knows his days are numbered. His death could come at any moment, but even he cannot help but be distracted by the Bedouin princess he sees making a daring bid for freedom from the slave market. Even in captivity, her courage and purity attract Khadin to her as much as her beauty. Unable to resist the temptation, he takes the maiden back to the palace harem—to be brought to him at night….

AUTHOR NOTE

The tales of Scheherazade and the Arabian Nights were among my favorite fairy tales when I was growing up. I was intrigued by the exotic location, the handsome princes, and the ever-present danger within palace life. It inspired me to research the sixteenth century Ottoman Empire, where I learned about the sultan Suleiman and the forbidden world of his harem. Many of the elements in “Innocent in the Harem” are based upon true stories.

Although Prince Khadin was not a real historical character, I’ve taken creative license in giving Suleiman an additional son. During this era in history, the royal heirs were sent to distant corners of the kingdom to avoid jealousy (it wasn’t until later that they were imprisoned within the Cage in the palace). Also, what happened to Khadin as a child and the ultimate fate of his mother were based upon real life stories.

I hope you enjoy this Arabian Nights fantasy, where a captive of the harem is rescued by a handsome prince and ultimately falls in love.

With many thanks to Donna MacQuigg for her assistance and information regarding Arabian horses. Also, thank you to Michelle Styles for her photographs of the Topkapi Palace and for her research insights.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

About the Author

Chapter One

Ottoman Empire
1565

Laila binte Nur Hamidah’s heartbeat shuddered within her chest as she stood beside the other women in the slave market. The heat of the sun sent a bead of perspiration sliding beneath the ferace that covered her body. Fear paralyzed her, but she held her posture straight. All she could do was watch the other women and await her turn upon the auction block.

The air was a stifling blend of tobacco, spices and coffee, foreign odors that made her all-too-aware that she didn’t belong here. When the next young maiden was stripped and inspected, strangers touched the slave’s breasts and bottom, testing her skin for firmness. They examined her like a prized mare, fit for breeding. A hard lump formed in Laila’s throat. Was this to be her fate? Fondled and pinched by strangers, humiliated before everyone?

Her vision swam, and she took a deep breath, trying to center herself. She tried to envision her father and brothers…the familiar black tents of the Bedouin camp. The lilting voice of her mother as she told stories that had been passed down for generations.

No more. They were gone, killed in battle when a neighboring tribe had attacked. Laila had tried to flee, only to be captured by the enemy. And now, here she stood. Her appearance and her virginity had kept her value high, which was why her enslaver had left her untouched.

With a light shove, she was forced to step upon the block of wood, a whip resting at her shoulder. “Do exactly as I tell you,” the slave merchant ordered. “If you are fortunate, you may be taken into a man’s harem to become a concubine. If you resist, you will feel the lash against your tender skin.” Callused hands tore the ferace away, exposing her to the crowd.

Laila stared straight ahead, her teeth clenched. Ropes bound her wrists, and the crowd of men watched from below. She refused to cower before them, defeated. Regardless of this shame, she would survive it. The cold fear metamorphosed into a purpose—before she was handed over to a master, she might find a chance to escape.

Her gaze fastened upon the Arabian mares tethered nearby. Their necks craned with unrest, their hooves pawing at the ground. These animals were not meant to be crowded, nor did they like it.

If she could get close enough, she might be able to steal one of the horses and escape. There had to be a way to leave the marketplace. If she could only find it…

A man, wearing black robes and a white turban around his head, rode forward, blocking off the mares. His wealth was evident from the stallion he rode and the rubies set within the horse’s bridle. Behind him, she spied a dozen guards, and she wondered who he was. A pasha or a lord, perhaps. She wondered what had caused him to stop. Noblemen rarely ventured within the marketplace.

She met his gaze without shame, not bothering to feign a demure presence before him. Though she was completely unclothed, she refused to surrender her pride. By the grace of Allah, she intended to free herself from this nightmare or die trying.

She ignored the hands reaching toward her and the lustful stares. Instead she remained focused upon the horses, determining which mare would obey her command. It would not be easy. Most Arabian horses were loyal to their masters; intelligent creatures who would balk at being taken. She had to find the right one.

As the men continued to bid, the pasha rode closer, his gaze fixed upon her. Laila stared back, surprised to see such blue eyes shaded by his turban. His face was darkened by the sun, his jaw firm. His features held an exotic cast, like a man whose mother was a great beauty, perhaps a woman from Al Andalus or farther north. He rested his hands upon his saddle, absorbing the atmosphere and ignoring the merchants who dared to approach him, asking if he cared to bid for her.

Laila met his curious expression, and then turned her attention back to the horses. The desperate need to escape consumed her. She would not be distracted by any man, not even a handsome one.

The pasha stared at her a moment longer, but at last, turned away. The merchants followed behind him, trying to cajole him into making a purchase. Raucous voices sounded in the marketplace. “My lord! For you, only one thousand kurush!” When he continued on his path, the merchant offered, “Nine hundred!”

The slight distraction was the opportunity Laila had been waiting for. She wrenched her ropes free of her captor, leaping off the block toward the horses. Running swiftly, she heard the crack of the whip. The tip of the lash missed her but caught the delicate skin of the mare, ripping through the horse’s flanks. Furious, the mare reared up in pain, her hooves striking out.

Once again, the slave trader cracked his whip, and the other horses began to strain against their tethers, baring their teeth. Laila knew better than to step in front of enraged animals, but she had only precious seconds before the men might seize her again.

This was her last and only chance.

Prince Khadin pulled hard on the reins of his mount, unable to believe what he was seeing. The slave maiden had leaped from the auction block, and was running toward a group of horses. Any other woman would have screamed in terror when the mares reared high, but the slave stood perfectly still.

“My lord,” one of his men asked, “shall I go back?”

“Not yet.” Khadin eased his mount forward, watching as the woman lifted her hands in appeasement, speaking to the horses. A hush fell over the merchants in astonishment as the maiden used her voice to soothe the animals.

Was she an enchantress? He’d never seen a woman charm a horse that had suffered from the lash. There was no fear upon her face, as if she understood the animal’s anger.

“I know you’re upset, beautiful one,” the woman said, keeping her eyes fixed upon the animal. The mare’s oval eyes met her own, and the slave continued uttering a stream of soft compliments. The other horses seemed to sense that she meant them no harm, and one by one, they quieted.

She touched her fingertips to the mare’s nose, and the horse nudged her in response. Like an ancient goddess, the woman stood naked in the crowd, her long dark hair falling past her waist in a stark contrast to the mare’s white neck.

With a full mouth and slanted dark eyes, the slave intrigued Khadin. Her body was slender, as though she had not had enough to eat. Sleek muscles tightened her arms, revealing strength enough to control a wayward horse. Her long legs and bottom were tight and firm, as though she were accustomed to riding on horseback. The swell of soft breasts peeked from beneath her hair, and Khadin knew he wasn’t the only man who desired her.

But he didn’t need a woman. Especially now.

Moments later, the slaver reached the woman and dragged her backwards. She cried out, but her captor began boasting of her skill with animals, doubling her price.

Khadin didn’t know what provoked him, but he ignored all the warnings within his mind. He rode forward, urging his stallion toward the woman. In one swift motion, he leaned down and lifted the woman onto his own horse. He tore off an emerald from his kaftan and threw it at the merchant in payment.

The slave fought him, her bound hands clawing at his face. “Let me go!”

“Stop,” he commanded, jerking her ropes taut. “Unless you want me to take you back to be sold.”

She grew still, trying to cover her nakedness. Khadin unfastened his cloak and draped it over her before slicing the ropes that bound her wrists. She was shivering, her hands clenching the fabric as though she could absorb it into her skin.

Why, in the name of all that was holy, had he rescued her? Khadin wondered. She was a slave, nothing more. It didn’t matter what man owned her or what he did with her. Who was he to intervene with her fate?

His own days were numbered. The moment of his death might be within days, if not hours. Bringing her with him wasn’t fair, nor was it right. Better to give her over to the harem and let them find a place for her.

When he increased the pace of his mount, he held onto her waist. It was then that he saw the tears sliding down her face. Though she spoke not a word, she sat up as though trying to hold herself together.

“What is your name?” he asked gently.

“I am Laila binte Nur Hamidah.” Her voice remained steady, as though she were fighting to maintain her composure. “Who are you?” She rested her palms upon his stallion’s mane, as if drawing strength from the creature. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the Topkapi Palace.” He didn’t answer her first question, for as of yet, he didn’t want her to know his identity until he’d decided what to do with her. He’d never before met a woman who would face a rearing horse with no fear. There was a calm serenity about her, a courage that he admired.

“You weren’t a slave before, were you?” he prompted.

“I was a Bedouin,” she admitted. “My father was the chief of our tribe.”

It explained her rigid pride and her gift for controlling horses. The Bedouin were known for their expertise with animals, and Khadin owned more than a few Arabians that had been trained among the nomadic tribes.

“Who are you?” she repeated.

He hesitated, choosing his words with care. “You may call me Khadin.” Deliberately, he omitted his family name but added, “The sultan is my master.”

And his father. Suleiman the Magnificent was brooding over his failed invasion of Malta, and his dissatisfaction had only heightened when Khadin had not extended the boundaries of his own province. Though he’d returned to the palace over a week ago, after his summons, not once had the sultan sent for him. There was a cool reception, an atmosphere of foreboding.

His elder brother Mustafa had already been murdered by his father’s own hand, when Suleiman had believed his son was conspiring with the shah of Persia. Khadin suspected his own fate would be the same, if his enemies had whispered lies into his father’s ears.

For now, the torturous wait preyed upon him. He suspected that the time for his own death was drawing closer, for only this morning, another slave girl had died tasting his food. Poison or strangling were favored methods of killing, for it was forbidden to shed the blood of a prince. Most likely, he’d die one morning, choked by a silken cord.

He had to find a way to convince his father that he was no threat to the empire or to Prince Selim, the heir. He preferred governing his own province of Nerassia, far away from the Topkapi Palace. No doubt his life depended on the actions he took to appease the sultan during these next few days.

As they drew near to the imperial gate, the high arch towered above them. Over a hundred guards patrolled every inch of the perimeter, keeping the palace free from attack. Surrounded by his escorts, Khadin rode inside. Though he held Laila closely, she kept her shoulders stiff in an effort to avoid his touch.

They rode past rows of marble columns and elaborate pavilions, the air redolent with fragrant flowers, though it was now autumn. Silence governed the palace, the hundreds of slaves moving about their duties with soft footsteps. It was an order that no man or woman should disturb the peace.

Khadin dismounted within the courtyard and lifted Laila down from the horse. Her face was gripped with fear, her dark brown eyes terrified. “Keep the cloak for now,” he bade her, “until more suitable clothing has been given to you.”

“You’re leaving me here?” she whispered.

He gave a tight nod. The private quarters of the harem were forbidden to all, save the eunuchs and the royal family. Surely it would be the safest place for her. He reached out to touch Laila’s hair, silently reassuring her that everything would be all right.

But he knew it might not be. Jealousy and vengeance were the darker shadows within the harem. Every woman held a rank, and Laila would be given the lowest place, commanded to serve the other ladies. This courageous woman, by all rights a Bedouin princess, deserved more.

Leave her be, his mind ordered. Your own life might end at dawn. Let her go.

But Laila was different from the others; a woman unafraid to look violence in the eye and face it with serenity. Someone who might grant him comfort, until he faced his father’s wrath or earned back his own redemption.

Khadin gestured for the kizlar ağasi, the chief black eunuch, to come forward. “Take her to the harem and prepare her. And tonight, bring her to me.”

Laila was taken aback by the extravagance of the Topkapi Palace. As the dark-skinned eunuch led her through the carriage gate and through the Court of Eunuchs, they reached a smaller courtyard which was guarded. Then, he brought her into the harem, where she heard nothing but the soft trickle of fountains and the occasional bird chirping. It was as if tranquility had locked itself within a shell of opulence.

The very walls gleamed with brilliant blue and gold porcelain tiles, the floors a cool marble beneath her feet. Once they were inside the harem, the eunuch led her through a maze of corridors where she saw hundreds of women. Some reclined upon divans while she heard the sound of water splashing in one of the baths nearby.

Despite the vast numbers, there was a hushed quality here, with a sensual and inviting atmosphere. She heard the soft sound of a stringed instrument being played while a young voice sang.

Laila held fast to the edges of Khadin’s cloak, unable to guess what would happen to her. The scent of his skin clung to the fabric, a spicy fragrance that made her hold it closer. More and more, she sensed that he was someone of importance. He’d known exactly where to take her within the palace, and he behaved as though it were familiar to him.

“The man who brought me here,” she whispered to the eunuch. “Khadin. He’s one of the princes, isn’t he?”

The eunuch inclined his head. “Indeed. And since he has ordered you brought to him this night, you will visit the hamam and be bathed and massaged, as is befitting the concubine of a prince.”

Laila didn’t respond. The burning need to escape, to flee this new prison, overwhelmed her. Never before had she been touched by a man, and the thought of succumbing her virtue was nothing less than terrifying. A Bedouin father could cut his daughter’s flesh into pieces if she surrendered her virginity in an act of lust.

Yet none of her family had survived.

Her heart mourned the loss. She’d been taken by the enemy, without knowing which of her tribe members had managed to flee. But not before she’d seen the fallen bodies of her father, mother, and younger brother. The grief welled up inside her, threatening to shatter the emotional shield she’d created.

Angrily she swiped at a tear. You cannot think of them now. No one will rescue you from this place. You must rely on yourself.

Why did Prince Khadin want her? Untrained in the arts of love, she had never known the affections of a man. And yet, she was meant to become his odalisque, a slave that he would use for his own pleasure. Allah, what could she do? Was there any way to avoid this fate?

The Topkapi Palace was unknown to her, for her family had dwelled in black tents along the coast of the Mediterranean, traveling from place to place. The thought of living here filled her with dismay and an urgency to run away. But how? Every corner was guarded by kapici, royal soldiers who would not hesitate to stop her from leaving. It would be unwise to risk it without understanding her surroundings. Her father had taught her to always think carefully before making a decision. For now, she needed to learn more about life within the harem and discover the best way to gain her freedom.

She caught one of the younger Circassian women smirking at her. With pale skin and deep green eyes, the woman lounged upon a divan, wearing a silken gömlek that displayed her generous curves. The look she offered Laila was one of smug superiority.

I am not one of you, Laila thought to herself. I’ll never be one of you.

She squared her shoulders and followed the eunuch down another corridor, past a group of dancers who swirled in circles, their veils and skirts clinging to slim legs. He took her into a smaller apartment, deep within the heart of the harem. “You will meet the valide sultana, Princess Mihrimah later,” he explained. “She governs the harem, along with the sultan’s wives. For now, I will take you to the vekil usta, Lady Murana. She will instruct you.”

Lady Murana was an older woman who wore robes colored a deep red while a white anteri tunic and şalvar trousers were revealed beneath it. Her hair was hidden beneath a loosely fitted turban, and emeralds and diamonds adorned her throat and wrists. “You have brought me a new girl, Hakir?”

“I have, my lady. She has gained Prince Khadin’s favor, and he ordered her prepared for him this night.” The eunuch bowed and took his leave, while Laila was left standing with the woman.

Wrinkles creased Murana’s face as she walked a slow circle around Laila. “Remove the cloak,” she ordered.

Laila clenched the fabric tightly, and Murana sent her a cold stare. “If you are to survive this new life, you must learn to obey orders. The prince will not tolerate insolence, especially not from a slave.” Then the older woman softened slightly. “I know that the harem will be new to you, but you are among the blessed to be brought here.” She gently removed Laila’s outer cloak and inspected her, clucking her tongue with disapproval. With a sharp command to another slave, the older woman ordered food for her.

Once Laila had eaten, Lady Murana bid her to stand. “Come, and I will take you to the baths.”

The interior of the hamam was warm, with steam rising from the waters. Lady Murana gave her a pair of wooden clogs to protect her feet from the hot marble, and when Laila entered, she saw a dozen women talking softly to each other. Both dark-skinned and fair-skinned women sat amid the steam, their lush forms only reminding Laila of her own shortcomings. Her breasts were small, the size of apples, while her hips were too slender.

Laila sat upon a stool, to rest her aching feet while the blissful steam rose up around her. As she relaxed, the perspiration rose upon her skin, droplets sliding down her throat and down her breasts. She wondered if Khadin would try to touch her, and her nipples puckered at the forbidden vision. She crossed her arms over her chest, and the light pressure against the sensitive tips made her breath catch.

One of the other slaves spread a paste over her skin, then scraped it off with mussel shells, before rinsing her body hair away. They scrubbed her clean with a rough sea sponge and washed her hair. Last, the attendant poured several buckets of water over her.

It was strange to be bared this way before other women, but no one appeared disconcerted in the least. One woman stretched in the steam, sweat glistening over her nubile body.

Another slave brought out scented oils, and Laila jerked in surprise when the woman began to massage her. After the heavy steam, she closed her eyes, surrendering to the touch. Her aching muscles relaxed, and as the slave’s hands slid over her skin, she found herself thinking of Khadin once more.

He was handsome, with such piercing blue eyes that drew her in. Any woman would be honored to become his concubine. Laila shivered when the slave’s hands moved to her neck and shoulders, sliding down over her breasts to massage her stomach and lower back. A shocking ache of pleasure resonated through her body, down between her legs.

Though the slave was merely doing her duty, Laila found herself responding in a way she didn’t understand. Her body grew more sensitive, and goose bumps rose over her flesh as she was coated in fragrance.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she reclined upon a sofa, her body wrapped in warm cloths. Though she knew she ought to be planning her exit, it was as if her mind had fallen beneath the spell of the harem. Her skin had never felt this soft, her hair falling over her shoulders in a smooth dark veil. She suspected that something else had been placed within the massage oil, something to awaken her own desires.

The world of the harem was drawing her into its silken, private web of sensual delight. And with each minute that passed, she loosened the cloths until her naked body dried in the warm air. Khadin would want to claim her, to make her submit within his bed. She envisioned his body covering hers, and what it would be like when he invaded the most private part of her.

She grew wet between her legs, and the unfamiliar sensation seemed to permeate every part of her. In her mind, she saw his hands reaching out to touch her. But instead of pulling away from him, she found herself trapped, leaning in as though he could quench the need rising.

Don’t do this, she warned herself. You have to leave. You cannot stay here.

But before long, Lady Murana came to bring her to the prince. Laila wore gossamer clothing that was so translucent, the anteri and gömlek revealed every curve. Last, she wore a long ferace, to cover every garment. Her hair was braided, and atop her head she wore a pillbox hat with two veils in the front and back to form her yaşmak.

“I think Prince Khadin will find you pleasing, in spite of your thinness,” the woman pronounced. “If you bring him great pleasure, he will reward you.”

Laila’s skin prickled with fear, her body so very cold. She was not a true concubine, nor would she be. The prince might have rescued her from the slave markets, but she had no desire to lose herself in this way. She wanted to return home and find out if any of her tribe members had survived. A life of this luxury did not suit her at all. She needed her freedom and her beloved horses.

Vaguely she was aware of Lady Murana offering advice on how to bring the prince to his own physical pleasure, but her mind refused to listen. Right now, she was trying to memorize the interior of the palace, looking for unguarded corners that might afford her an escape.

“Enter the prince’s bed from the foot, remaining beneath the covers until you reach him,” Lady Murana advised her. “Show him your humility and recognize that he is your master.” Then the woman gave Laila a velvet pouch. “Take this with you,” she commanded. “Prince Khadin may wish to use it tonight.”

When Laila glanced inside the pouch, she saw nothing but a tiny vial. She drew the drawstring tightly shut, resolving that she would find a way out of this.

Another dark-skinned eunuch led her down a winding corridor. Laila passed mosaic floors, and intricate porcelain walls, with inlaid gold. Again, the silence of the palace startled her, now that she was outside the women’s quarters.

Within moments, Laila was led to a private chamber. The windows were open, and the late afternoon sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a shadow over the man standing there: Prince Khadin, who held her fate in his hands.

Laila stood before him, unsure of whether or not to approach.

Chapter Two

She was terrified. Khadin could see it in her eyes. After the ordeal of this morning and her change in circumstances, he supposed anyone would be frightened of the unknown. The eunuch removed the outer ferace she wore, bowing and setting the garment near the doorway. Laila’s black hair had been braided and adorned with golden cords, and kohl applied to her eyes. Her face and head were veiled, leaving only her dark eyes to entice him.

Dressed in a silk anteri and gömlek, he could see the rosy nipples beneath the fabric. Her long, slim legs peeked from beneath the şalvar trousers. It was an outfit designed for seduction, revealing everything he desired. Despite his good intentions to simply enjoy her company this night, he could not deny the visceral response rising.

Khadin dismissed the eunuch who had brought Laila here, wondering how to break past her fear. Though he knew he held complete command and could order her to do as he wished, he had no intention of using that power. He preferred to win her affections on his own terms.

She was a distraction he needed tonight, for his repeated attempts to speak with the sultan had once again been denied. That, coupled with the poisoning attempt this morning, was enough to solidify his suspicions that they wanted him dead. It was only a matter of when and how.

He would not beg for mercy nor flee like a coward. He would face his father and try to convince Suleiman that he was the strongest governor for Nerassia. At the moment, Khadin had to tread carefully, for he sensed indecision within his father about his fate. It was the only hope he had left.

To take his mind off the unsettling future, he gestured toward a tray of dates, fresh grapes and slices of melon. “Would you like something to eat?” Earlier, a new slave had tasted the food, to ensure that it was safe.

Laila shook her head. She took a step closer, and in her mahogany eyes, he saw resentment mingled with the fear. “There is nothing here that I want.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding herself from view.

He raised an eyebrow at her remark, not at all surprised. “You’re angry I brought you here.”

“I’m angry that I was captured and sold into slavery.” Her dark eyes flashed with fury. “All I’ve ever done is train and sell horses. I know nothing about a life such as this.” She waved her hand at the finery, shaking her head. “It may be a cage made of gold, but it’s still a cage.”

Her voice trembled when she added, “Do you expect me to desire you? Should I want to lie upon your bed and let you use me?”

She was close to tears, and Khadin lifted his hand to stop her. “I have never used a woman. My father, yes.” She didn’t understand his reasons for bringing her here. “If I send you back to the harem, you would be chastised and punished. And if I leave you there, my father might choose you within his own bed.” Khadin stared at her. “Is that what you want?” He picked up the ferace and passed it to her. Laila held it close, as though it were a shield. She shook her head slowly. “No.”

Though it was unusual for women to venture outside the privacy of the harem, Khadin felt the need to escape these walls. “Cover yourself and walk with me,” he ordered.

He tucked several dates into his own robes, in the event that she changed her mind about eating. After donning the black outer garment, Laila adjusted her yaşmak and adjusted her face veil.

He took her hand in his and her slight palm was rough, unlike the soft skin of other women. She was accustomed to hard work, not a life of pampering. But perhaps she might enjoy a reprieve from the existence she’d known.

As Khadin led her outside, she struggled to keep up with his long strides. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.” He led her through the Akhor Kapi, the vast gate leading to the stables. Over three thousand horses were here, but he took her to the stable reserved especially for the proud Arabian horses. As soon as Laila saw them, her dark eyes filled up with anticipation.

A male slave led a black stallion forward for their inspection. The animal’s glossy coat had been curried, and Laila moved forward to speak with the horse. “You are a beautiful one, aren’t you?” she murmured, stroking the stallion’s neck.

Khadin watched her fingers as she caressed the horse, her hands sliding over the stallion’s dark back. The vision of her hands moving over his own skin suddenly flashed into his mind. Laila sensed his interest and turned. She offered her attention back to the horse, keeping her eyes averted as if to escape his notice.

“You needn’t stop,” he told her. “There is no man alive who wouldn’t respond to the touch of a beautiful woman. I’m certain this fellow is enjoying it.”

In the same manner, he wanted her to enjoy his touch. He moved Laila’s braid and veil over one shoulder, baring her nape and massaging the knots from her neck. She tensed, as though afraid to move. The only response was the rise of gooseflesh upon her skin.

“Do you want to ride him?”

She shivered and caught his hands, pushing them away. “Yes.”

“Shall I boost you up, or do you need a saddle?”

“Neither.” She vaulted over the horse, using her knees to urge the animal around the enclosure. Though the area was not large, she managed to canter the stallion, and her veil rippled behind her.

He found himself wishing she weren’t wearing the ferace and veils, for he wanted to see her face. When she rode the animal, it was as if they became one being. Her natural balance moved with the horse, and she hardly needed to hold on. He watched her for several minutes until she brought the horse back to him.

“What about you?” she asked. When Khadin sent her a questioning look, she added, “Don’t you ride? Or do you require a saddle and bridle?”

He supposed she believed him too proud to ride bareback. “I’ll ride with you,” he said, swinging up behind her before she could protest. He moved her forward and nudged the horse into a walk. “If I fall, I’ll take you down with me.”

She glanced back at him, her eyes filled with humor. “Then don’t fall.” Leaning forward, she seemed to whisper a command to the horse, moving them into a trot. It was more difficult to keep his balance, but Khadin had spent enough years as an adolescent riding bareback when he wasn’t supposed to.

With Laila in his arms, it was easier to forget about the problems with his father. Her body pressed close to his every time the horse moved, and in spite of himself, he grew aroused. Her hips bounced against his as they rode, and the natural rise and fall of her body made him imagine her hips lifting above him.

“Enough,” he ordered, bringing the horse to a stop.

Khadin dismounted, lifting her down. Laila sent him an embarrassed look. “I could have gotten down without your help.”

He said nothing, but let his hands rest upon her waist. “You’re not used to being touched, are you?”

She looked away. “No.” Rubbing her arms, she started talking faster. “My lord, you should choose another woman. I would not please you.”

“Can you not stop worrying for an hour or two?”

She blinked a moment. “But you—that is, I don’t—“

He slid his hands up her waist to her rib cage. Like a wild gazelle, she appeared poised to flee from his embrace. “Have I forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do?”

She shook her head. “No, but—“

“Do you find me repulsive? Does the sight of me bother you?” He didn’t want to pursue her further if his interest was not returned.

Laila took his hands in hers, drawing them away from her waist. “What am I supposed to say? If I say yes, you’ll have me killed. If I say no, you’ll want me in your bed.”

He laughed at her honesty. “Laila, I am a man. No matter what you said, I would still want you.” He leaned in to rest his cheek against hers. “Have you never taken a lover before?” His hands moved up below her breasts, and he heard her breath catch. The idea of being the first man to claim her, to teach her the pleasures of the flesh, was a seductive promise.

Laila shook her head. For a long moment, her dark eyes studied his, as if taking his measure. “I am not one of the harem women. I never will be.” Lifting her chin, she nodded toward the stallion, her voice cool. “If I am now your slave, I would rather be of service here in the stables, than anywhere else.”

Whether it was her fear speaking or her pride, Khadin would never let it happen. He leaned down, resting his face against hers. Beneath his palm, he could feel her pulse pounding with fear. “I cannot place you within the stables.”

A woman of her beauty and desirability should never sleep among the animals. One of the kapici might try to claim her. The harem was the only appropriate place for a maiden. There, she could remain behind locked doors, away from the hungry eyes of men he didn’t trust. “It’s better for you to remain within the harem. No one will harm you there.”

Her eyes flickered over him with distrust, and he sensed her thoughts. “Not even me.”

Though he could not deny the desire she’d conjured within him, he would never take a woman against her will. It was her choice of whether or not to accept him.

Khadin stepped back, running his hand over the horse. The stallion nickered and nudged at him in response. “I brought you here because I didn’t want you to fall prey to one of those other men at the slave market. You would not have enjoyed such a fate.” There was no doubt in his mind, that she would have been abused and violated, had he left her there.

“I want to go home to my people.” There was a choked sound in her voice, and he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I wish you could understand that.”

He did, more than she knew. Above all else, he wanted to return to his villa at Nerassia, where he could be free to live his own life.

Her hand reached out to tentatively touch his. “Please. Let me go.” The simple touch seemed to ripple through his skin, making him want far more. Her deep brown eyes were steady, her expression pleading.

Khadin removed her face veil and her luminous eyes enchanted him. She had an alluring mouth, high cheekbones and a slender nose. With each moment he remained near her, his desire intensified. In her face, he saw the unbroken pride of a Bedouin, a woman unaccustomed to living within walls.

“I can understand your desire to go home. Wherever that is.” He reached beneath her veil to unbraid her deep black hair. Like a ribbon of ink, it spilled over her shoulders, in a stark contrast to her skin. “I haven’t been to my own home in several weeks.”

“But I thought you lived here.” Her expression grew curious.

“I haven’t lived in the Topkapi Palace since I came of age,” he admitted. “Our father sent us to provinces across his kingdom, to avoid jealousy among the heirs.” Not that it had worked. Khadin couldn’t shake off the premonition that he would never return home alive.

“Where do you live?”

“It’s a small province east of Alexandretta called Nerassia. A long journey from here.” He turned his palm over, lacing his fingers with hers. “You would like it, I think. There are many gardens, and my home is on top of a hill overlooking the river. It’s beautiful.” The boundaries of his lands stretched for many miles. He could almost envision Laila riding upon a creamy mare, her dark hair streaming down her back.

Strange, that he should imagine bringing her with him. But the vision didn’t fade. He wanted to know this woman better, to understand her. Bleakly he wondered how much time he had left.

He wanted to believe that Suleiman had not brought him here to die. But the first attempt on his life had already happened. Though it might have been coincidence, likely it was only the beginning. Right now, he felt the need to squeeze every last drop out of his life. For it might be the last moments he had.

It was nearing sunset, but there was one last horse he wanted Laila to see. Given her skill with animals, he wondered how she would respond when she saw this particular horse. He led her toward the last stable at the far end of the grounds.

“Where are we going?” Laila asked, replacing the veil over her face.

“There’s another stallion I want to show you.”

They walked in silence, her hand fitted within his. She seemed more at ease in his company, and it pleased him. A horse’s whinny broke through the stillness, and Khadin led Laila to the fenced enclosure where a white Arabian paced. The restless stallion saw them approaching and galloped closer, rearing up as if to intimidate them.

Laila’s face turned to dismay when she saw the reddened scars upon the horse’s back. “Who did this to him?”

Khadin shook his head. “I don’t know. I won him in a wager, a few days ago. The pasha promised an Arabian horse as his forfeit. I didn’t realize at the time that it was one he’d confiscated in battle.”

Laila seemed lost in thought for a moment. “An Arabian is a horse of great value. This one is worth more than a slave.” Her fingers slipped free of his, her expression pleading. “I could tame him for you…in exchange for my freedom.”

He understood her reasoning, but it wasn’t possible. “Even if I did grant your request, you have no brothers or father to escort you home,” he pointed out. “It is far more dangerous outside these gates.” There was also no way of knowing where the survivors of her tribe might be. It was better for her to remain here, where she would be protected.

“Please,” she begged. “It’s the only thing I can offer to you. Let me try.”

Khadin reached out and slid his fingertips beneath her veil. He lowered the soft wisp of fabric covering her face, revealing her mouth. With the slightest touch to her lower lip, he leaned in and stole a kiss.

From the moment his mouth met hers, it was clear that she did not know how to kiss a man. He nipped at her lips, coaxing her to respond. “It is not the only thing you have to offer, güzelim.”

This time when he kissed her, he coaxed a faint response. She was awkward in kissing, but he cupped her face in his hands, drinking in the taste of her lips. Gradually she caught the rhythm, and her hands slid around his waist as if for balance.

He was glad she was not entirely resistant to him. And despite her inexperience and how little they knew each other, he wanted to spend more time with her. Unlike the other women he’d known, not once had she made sly remarks, insinuating an interest in his wealth. All she craved was her freedom.

When Khadin pulled away, her cheeks flooded with color, replaced by a stricken expression. Though she’d said nothing to offend him, he saw that she did not want to yield. Like a caged wild animal, she had no intention of embracing her fate. And yet, there was uncertainty in her eyes, as if he’d conjured an unexpected response.

Khadin released her, walking over to stand by the fence. He waited long moments before at last, her soft footsteps approached. From behind him she murmured, “I know you rescued me from a worse fate today. Any other woman would be weeping for joy to live in a palace such as this.”

“But not you.”

She shook her head, her forearms resting upon the fence. “I feel lost here. And I know I don’t belong among the others.”

The evening sunlight silhouetted her face, though she had replaced the veil to cover her mouth. She sent him a sidelong glance. “The guards are watching us, aren’t they?”

He gave a curt nod. “At all times. Only when I am in my bed chamber, am I permitted to be alone. Even then, there are always kapici outside the doors.”

A faint shiver seemed to pass over her. “I wouldn’t want to live that way.”

“It’s the price of being a prince.” He made no excuses, for it had always been thus. Only within the boundaries of Nerassia, could he do as he wished. The dark sense of foreboding enfolded him, making him wonder if tonight was his last night.

For the next half hour, they both stood watching the horse. Laila was entranced by the animal, and there was a determined look upon her face. A confidence that she could bring this proud, stubborn animal to yield before her.

Khadin wondered if he could tame her in the same manner. Like an Arabian princess, she would not surrender to any man. But he sensed that she was a woman with much to give, if she would let him touch her. He wanted to awaken her to her own passion, teaching her how to experience pleasure. And he wanted to watch her come apart when he joined his body with hers. Perhaps she could relieve the shadow of assassination, helping him to forget that these moments might be his last.

“You want your freedom, I know,” he began. His words immediately caught her attention, and she faced him with hope in her eyes. She joined her hands with his, fervent longing in every part of her body.

“Please,” she whispered. In her eyes, he saw a woman who would give up anything for her freedom. And though he ought to feel like a bastard for even suggesting it, he wanted her.

“When I leave the palace for Nerassia, I will escort you myself.” That is, if he was permitted to leave. Khadin refused to consider the alternative. “You may spend your days with the stallion, attempting to train him. If you succeed, I will give him to you. At night, you will sleep within my chamber.” He leaned down and removed the veil covering her face, dropping the barest kiss upon her lips. “And you will surrender yourself to me. Willingly.”

Chapter Three

Laila didn’t respond at first, though her pulse quickened. The very thought of sharing Prince Khadin’s bed sent chills through her. He was a dangerous man, one who held her life in his hands. And yet, when he’d kissed her, she sensed his own tension. There was something else beneath the surface, a troubled man who had secrets. In many ways, he seemed as trapped as she.

It was foolish to think that he would leave her alone. The only reason he had brought her to the palace was because he desired her. But why? She couldn’t understand why he would not choose any of the hundreds of beautiful women in the harem. Their bodies were lush and full, nothing like her lean limbs. And they had the sexual experience she lacked.

She wanted to tell him no. She couldn’t allow herself to be used in that way. Not for any man. Not for her freedom.

“What is your answer?” he prompted, his knuckles grazing her cheek.

Her mouth opened to refuse. But the words seemed to catch in her throat when she met his gaze. He looked at her, as though there was no other woman in the world he wanted more. Even though she was a stranger to him.

If she refused, it would take at least six years to earn her freedom in servitude. The thought of remaining imprisoned behind these walls for so long was unthinkable. What if he left her here, to be claimed by his father the sultan? The very air she breathed seemed to suffocate her.

The nearness of Khadin was starting to cloud her judgment. She couldn’t deny that he was handsome. His intense blue eyes seemed to reach within, touching the deepest part of her. And worst of all, she did desire him. When he’d kissed her, she’d been frozen, unable to conceive of what was happening. But his mouth had shaped to hers, conjuring up shivers of need. Even now, standing beside him, her clothing was tight against her breasts. The idea of being his lover, letting him touch every part of her, was tempting.

Khadin leaned down, his warm breath holding traces of mint. For a long moment, he rested his cheek against hers, awaiting her answer. “I want to touch you. And tempt you.” His hands moved up her rib cage, slowly drawing across her breasts. Her nipples rose up in response to the gentle touch, and she fought against the arousal he conjured.

“But I won’t take you, until you’re ready. Until you ask me to.” His firm lips captured hers, coaxing a response she didn’t want to give. But her body seemed to crave the unexpected temptation, perhaps because he was so forbidden.

Warmth bloomed through her skin, traveling down between her legs where she grew moist. His tongue slid against the seam of her mouth, and when she opened, he penetrated. The way he would take her body this night, if she allowed it.

Give in to him, her body urged. Your tribe will never know of it. Take the pleasure he offers, and your freedom with it.

He gripped the back of her head, intensifying the kiss. His hot mouth claimed hers, not allowing her to protest, until Laila found herself trembling. Her mind was numb to everything, and she pulled back. “You ask too much of me,” she whispered. “Choose someone else.”

“It’s your freedom,” he said quietly. “And you have the choice to refuse. I’ve been honest with you about what I want in return.”

He reached up and replaced her face veil. There was no emotion upon his face, no hint of his own feelings. Without another word, he began to walk away.

Her chance for freedom was leaving with him.

“Wait!” she called out. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

Prince Khadin stopped and cast a glance back at her. His arms folded across his chest, and she realized that he was not going to ask her again. This was her only opportunity, and it was about to disappear.

Even several weeks of slavery were better than years. And though it angered her to be caught in this position, surely she could endure it. “All right,” she murmured, returning to his side. “I’ll stay with you.”

Her mind rebelled against this choice, but at least he’d promised not to take her against her will. Surely she could resist him until she had regained her freedom.

He started to guide her back, but she stopped him. There was something she had to do first. Extending her palm, she asked, “May I have the dates you brought along?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. “You’re hungry?”

“Not for me. For the stallion.” Although there was not enough time to begin training the horse, she wanted to start building trust between them.

Khadin passed her a handful of sugared dates, standing back so she could enter the enclosure. Laila studied the white stallion and moved slowly as he trotted around the circle. The horse appeared angry at his circumstances, and he bared his teeth.

“I understand how you are feeling,” Laila murmured, keeping her voice soft. Opening her palm, she revealed the dates, letting him see the treat. Though it was far too soon to feed him from her hand, she untied the veil covering her face and set the dates upon it. It would allow him to learn her scent.

The horse snorted as he eyed the pile of dates. Laila backed away until she stood several paces away from the offering, facing the stallion.

Come to me, she willed the horse. Know that I mean you no harm.

Behind her, she sensed Khadin watching. He climbed over the fence and moved beside her, careful not to stir the animal’s temper. As they waited for the stallion to approach, she grew more conscious of the prince’s touch. Steady and strong, he made no sudden moves. But he held her close, his arms resting beneath the curve of her breasts. Her skin warmed, and when the stallion finally leaned down to eat, Laila breathed a sigh of relief. It was a small victory.

“I want to be here in the morning, before he’s fed,” she murmured. “I should be the one to give him his food, so he learns that I won’t harm him.”

Khadin started to move toward the fallen veil, but she stopped him. “No, leave it. I want him to learn my scent and remember me.” The prince lifted her back over the fence, and she added, “When a stallion has suffered at the hands of another, he does not know whom to trust.”

“As you do not trust me.”

His low voice was a caress, and she shrugged. “I don’t know you.”

“You will,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her palm. She couldn’t stop the slight shiver from his touch.

The sun had finally set, and the last rays of sunlight slipped below the horizon. Khadin led her back to his quarters and with each step, Laila’s nerves intensified. His hand rested upon the base of her spine, and the quiet warmth set her senses on edge. She tried to remind herself that it couldn’t be so bad. He had been kind to her. He could easily have forced her into his bed, rather than bringing her to visit the stables. Instead he’d quieted her terror by bringing her to the one place where she felt at home—among the horses.

Though it had hardly been a choice at all, he’d given her the right to refuse him. That was what bothered her most—that she’d enjoyed his touch. Beneath the years of guarding her virginity was a woman who wanted to know passion. She suspected there was a great deal more he might try to teach her: the secrets of the harem women.

Lady Murana had promised she would know great pleasure. Though Laila had doubted it at the time, now she was beginning to wonder. Khadin did not appear to be the sort of man who would simply satisfy his needs.

No, there would be more. But what it would be, she could not imagine. Her thoughts returned to the velvet pouch, and the vial that lay therein. A sudden ache took root between her thighs, a yearning need she didn’t understand.

When they entered his chamber, Khadin dismissed the slaves, leaving them alone. Wildly, Laila wondered what would happen next. A thousand tangled thoughts closed off her mind, while her imagination fed off her insecurities.

“You’re still afraid,” Khadin said, picking up a plump grape from the plate. He teased it against her lips until she opened her mouth and ate.

“Yes,” she admitted. With a chagrined smile, she added, “You know that I don’t truly wish to be here.”

He cupped her cheek, and his mouth bent to her ear, his tongue causing another ripple of sensation as he nipped at the soft lobe. “You need not fear me, güzelim.”

He took her lips once more, his warm mouth tasting hers. It was not a threatening kiss but one meant to entice. A tingling sensation spiraled down to her breasts, heating her skin.

Khadin slid off her ferace and anteri tunic, revealing the filmy gömlek gown beneath it. Laila clutched the undergarment, even knowing that he could see through the soft fabric. Beneath it, she wore her şalvar, the light trousers falling to her ankles.

His blue eyes stared at her in a long, heated gaze. It was as if he were touching her already, and her skin flushed with embarrassment and unexpected anticipation.

With his hands, he touched her waist, spanning his fingertips across her rib cage. Though he made no move to cup her breasts, her nipples tightened in the cool marble room.

“If I could, I would command you not to be afraid.” Khadin touched her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her again. When his tongue slid within her mouth, his palms moved down her spine to press her bottom close. She felt so warm, as though she had stepped from a hot bath. Before she realized it, he’d removed the gown, leaving her bared from the waist up.

Laila closed her eyes, trying to distance herself from him. If she let him claim her body, no longer would she be a virtuous Bedouin woman, intended for marriage. She would become a prince’s concubine.

For so long she’d been guarded, kept away from all men. She’d never met a man like Khadin, someone with consummate power who maintained a strict control over himself. If she but voiced her refusal, she knew he would stop.

But when his palms moved up to her breasts, her willpower started dissolving, like droplets of rain against the sand. She blocked out the voices crying out against her and kissed Khadin back. With her mouth, she captured him until he took command, ravaging her lips.

The drowning sensation of physical need enveloped her, and she pressed herself against him, as if she could get closer. He stripped away her şalvar until she wore nothing else.

The kiss went on, and as he kindled the secret desires within her, he brought her body close to his. “Do you want me to stop, Laila?” His mouth moved against her throat, his palms filled up with her breasts.

Say the words, her mind begged.

But she couldn’t think when he was touching her. The silk of his garments seemed to chafe her skin, and he removed his kaftan and the remainder of his clothing until his bare skin rested against her.

“Look at me, Laila.” He stood back, staring into her eyes. “This night will be for pleasure, nothing more.”

Despite herself, she couldn’t help but study his naked form. His chest was muscled with a light dusting of hair, tapering down to a taut stomach. She felt an urge to touch the ridges there, wondering how a prince would be so physically strong. This was not a man who indulged himself with rich foods and idleness. His manhood was fully erect, the thickness leaving no doubt of his desire. Strong thighs showed that he was accustomed to riding. She wondered what it would feel like to have his body covering hers, joining in the way a stallion mounted a mare. The thought evoked another shiver of wildness within.

“Bring me the velvet pouch Lady Murana gave you,” Khadin ordered.

When she passed it to the prince, he reached inside and withdrew a vial of scented oil.

“Lie down,” Khadin asked. She did, and the softness of the bed was welcome beneath her weary muscles. She wanted to curl up in the silken sheets, luxuriating in the comfort.

The prince sat beside her and poured a small amount of oil into his palms, rubbing them together. She inhaled the scent of cinnamon and cloves, a spicy mixture that intrigued her. “I’m going to massage this into your skin,” he said quietly. “It will make you more sensitive to my touch. And as I’ve said, you have only to say the word and I’ll stop.”

He took a droplet and touched the tip of her erect nipple. A shudder washed over her, and between her legs, she felt a deepening ache. “I’m going to touch every part of you, Laila. And then you’ll do the same to me.”

It was a torment, imagining what it would feel like to have his hands all over her body. He took his thumb and forefinger, massaging the oil into her nipple.

“Turn onto your stomach,” he instructed.

There was an unexpected disappointment that he did not intend to caress her breasts further. When she laid upon her stomach, he moved the length of her hair to one side. Warm hands touched her skin, the oil sliding over her. He massaged her in a different way than she’d experienced earlier, when the slave had prepared her. His palms and fingertips soothed a path down her spine. Sensual and sleek, she shuddered when his mouth bent to her throat.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a virgin,” Khadin whispered. His mouth caught at her earlobe again, teasing it. “It fires my blood to think that I’ll be the first man to be inside of you. If you allow it.”

His hands moved down to stroke her bottom, and he parted her thighs slightly, his fingertips grazing her moist center.

A shock of heat made her tremble, and she bit her lip as his thumbs slid over the seam hiding her womanhood. She couldn’t stop the cry that broke forth when he rubbed a touch of the oil over her intimate folds.

Her fists gripped the coverlet, and she spasmed when his fingers slid inside her, as if to prepare her for his entrance. She was wet against his hand, her fingers gripping the coverlet as she gasped. He entered and withdrew his fingers several times before he stopped and rolled her over.

“Shall I stop?”

Laila couldn’t breathe, her body tingling with sensation. The effects of the oil had begun to impact her, and right now, an aching lust tormented her. With every touch, she was losing herself.

In the dim light of the lamp, she saw Khadin’s face staring down at her. “You feel it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she managed. “I don’t think I can bear it.”

A shadowed smile crossed over his face. “You’re going to have to, güzelim. For I’ve not begun to pleasure you yet.”

He sat closer to her feet and massaged the insoles and ankles, easing the pain of the past few weeks. Then up to her calves, the scented oil rising from her skin in a spicy perfume. His hand briefly brushed her mound, which was now smooth and free of hair from the earlier preparations.

Then Khadin parted her thighs, sliding his hands against her intimate flesh once more. Laila arched her back, the excitement building higher.

She looked up into his eyes, and though it killed her to say it, she whispered, “I need you to stop.” If she let him go any further, he would join his flesh with hers.

Khadin’s expression was dark and shuttered. “All right, güzelim,” he murmured. “I’ll stop touching you. But it’s your turn to massage my skin.” He gave her the vial of oil and kissed her softly. Rolling onto his stomach, he awaited her ministrations.

The vial was warm from his hands, and it took her a moment to realize that she was treading upon dangerous ground while touching him. Now that he had left her alone, the wild feeling surged inside, transforming into physical frustration.

Tentatively she reached out and touched his neck, moving her palm across his nape and back. She poured the oil into her palm and massaged the muscles, just as he had done for her. He tensed as her hands moved over him, and then he groaned in relief.

It was a strange sense of power. She slid her hands over every part of his shoulders and back and was startled to find herself responding once more.

Khadin lay with his face turned to the side, and it was then that she saw a light scar upon his temple. She leaned forward to touch it, her bare breasts grazing his back. “What happened to you?”

His mouth softened in a cynical smile. “One of the odalisques threw me into the baths when I was about two years of age. I struck my head upon the marble and nearly died.”

The admission sent a cold fear through her. Being a prince did not necessarily guarantee his safety, even within the palace walls. “Have there been many attempts on your life?”

“Enough,” was all he would say. She did not ask anything further, understanding his reluctance to speak of it.

Pouring more oil into her hands, she massaged his back and shoulders, moving down to his hips and legs. When she reached his feet, he rolled over, flinching at the touch.

“Are you ticklish?” A smile rose to her mouth at the thought.

“Sometimes.” He brought her to sit upon his lap, facing him. When she straddled his waist, his erection pressed close to her folds. “I enjoyed the afternoon we spent together,” he murmured against her throat. With a soft kiss, he pulled her into his arms, guiding her until she was snuggled in his arms, her backside pressed against his length.

That was it. He truly was going to stop. Her heartbeat was pounding, and Allah, she’d never felt this way before. Liquid and aching, and filled with desperate needs.

She felt the soft sounds of his breathing, though there was a rigid tension in him. Laila tried to sleep, but the pressure of his body against hers was only making her want more. The heat of his manhood was what she needed now. She needed him inside her, to satiate this fever.

All she had to do was ask.

This was no longer about gaining her freedom. She couldn’t lie to herself and say that she didn’t want him. She did. Her body was crying out, begging her to surrender everything.

She moved over to face him and saw that his blue eyes were open. He looked like a man on the edge of his control.

“What do you want from me, Laila?”

“I don’t know.” All she knew was that she regretted her decision to stop. Khadin was an honorable man, a prince who had saved her from the worst sort of fate. Her hands moved up to touch his chest. “I know that neither of us is content right now.”

“I’ll be all right.” He leaned back, resting his arms behind his head. She didn’t like being the cause of his unrest. He was holding back for her sake, when he didn’t have to.

She reached out to touch his pectoral muscles, her hands splayed over his chest. If she became his concubine, she would turn her back on everything her family had wanted for her.

But then, they were gone. There was no one to protect her anymore. No one to command her life. She could only make choices for herself, whether right or wrong.

“I don’t understand,” she said to Khadin, “why you gave me the choice to say no.”

“You have little enough freedom.” He kissed her fingertips, drawing one tip into his mouth. “But this, I can grant.”

His words crumbled away her remaining resistance. Her past was gone, caught in a life she would never again lead. She could not know what the future would hold, and it was best to live in the moment. To decide what it was she truly wanted.

She reached up to grasp Khadin’s neck, drawing him down for a kiss. With her mouth, she opened to him, letting him know of her surrender. She drew her hands over his naked back and down to muscular hips.

He raised her up onto her knees, taking her breast into his mouth. She cried out, gripping his shoulders. Beneath her woman’s flesh he pressed his shaft slightly, and it shocked her to feel something thick sliding within her opening.

“Do you want me?” he whispered, tantalizing her with the pressure. Khadin’s breathing was harsh, and he rubbed against her, driving her closer to a sensation that made her skin tighten, her nipples cockled with desire as he tongued one, then the other.

“Yes,” she answered, hoping she would not regret the decision.

When her body began to tremble, her breath coming in quick gasps, Khadin sheathed himself within her. She cried out at the tightness, but he stopped abruptly, kissing her until she started to relax against the sensation. Though she was sore, the pain quickly receded when he began to move against her.

It was a strange sensation of fullness. His penetrations no longer hurt, but instead, they conjured up a muted pleasure. He palmed her hips, forcing her to ride him. It reminded her of the rocking sensation of trotting with a horse, only she’d never imagined it with a man. She arched against his rhythm, shuddering as he used his erection to pleasure her.

Khadin’s face was tense, and he rolled her onto her back. It was awkward at first as she tried to lift her hips to meet him, but he controlled the tempo, filling her up with long, smooth strokes. She understood that he was trying to make this first time good for her. He was being so careful, gently joining with her.

And yet, she belonged to him now, as his concubine. She was a woman meant to give him release, to satisfy his needs. She reached to grasp his backside, her fingers urging him faster. But even when he quickened his thrusts, it didn’t seem to be enough for him.

He needed more from her, and she couldn’t know what it was. She wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering, “It’s all right, Khadin. Show me what it is you need.”

With her words, Khadin closed his eyes and nodded. Still buried within her, he drew her legs back together, and the motion created a stronger friction as he withdrew and plunged inside. His mouth took her breasts, sucking hard as he thrust.

A rising shiver started to take hold from inside her, an aching heat that made her breath quicken. Over and over, he penetrated until a white-hot explosion rocked against her flesh, making her shatter against him. The dizzying eruption went on and on, her body milking his length as she came apart. At last, she heard him emit a groan as he drove deeply within, seizing his own release.

Her heartbeat pummeled within her chest, her body alive in ways she’d never expected. She couldn’t stop herself from touching Khadin, running her hands over his neck, down his shoulders, and holding him in a tight embrace.

He leaned up, pressing another kiss upon her mouth. There was a slight smile on his lips, and he murmured, “Are you all right, güzelim?”

“Yes.” She kissed him back, offering it freely. Though she couldn’t quite believe that she’d given herself to him in this way, it had indeed been pleasurable, as he’d promised.

And yet, as he gathered her into his embrace, the soft sheets encasing them, she couldn’t let go of her fear. For though he had given her a night that she would always remember, she feared it wouldn’t last. Most of all, she was afraid of losing herself in this world of secret pleasures.

Chapter Four

Four days later

The ink was not yet dry, but Khadin lifted the parchment. Upon it, he’d written his wishes that Laila should receive her freedom, along with the white stallion. He wanted his command in writing, so that no one could deny it to her.

She lay sleeping upon his bed, her fingers resting on the spot where he had slept. Last night, he’d spent hours making love with her, hardly able to sleep. She’d given herself to him, time and again, until they’d both collapsed in exhaustion. Even when he’d gone to sleep, he’d felt her hands caressing his skin, as if to imprint herself upon him.

He’d gone with Laila each morning to the stables, watching as she fed and comforted the injured stallion. The horse had fallen under Laila’s spell, and yesterday, he had allowed Laila to ride him. It stunned Khadin to think that she could transform a horse with love, making the animal feel safe.

But then, she’d captivated him. He’d wanted no other woman since the first time he’d seen her. Watching her cry out in ecstasy when he filled her body with his own was something he craved. He didn’t want to ever let her go.

But his time had run out. Last night, he’d received the summons he’d been waiting for. The sultan would receive him this morning in the Imperial Hall. No matter what the outcome might be, he had to secure Laila’s fate. If he could have his greatest wish, it would be to take her back with him to Nerassia.

A soft tap came at his door, and when he granted permission for the person to enter, he saw four kapici standing there. They wore black, with scimitars hanging around their waists. One held a braided cord in his hand, and Khadin tensed.

“Laila,” he called out. “Rise and go back to the harem.” He wanted her gone, for although the threat was against him, he didn’t want her involved.

She stirred at the sound of his voice and clutched the bedcovers to her. Glancing over, he saw the nervous expression on her face. “What is it?”

“Do as I command.” He rose and tossed her the clothes she’d worn to his chamber. Eyeing the kapici, he said, “Has my father summoned me?”

One bowed, nodding. “His Majesty, Suleiman the Magnificent, has indeed requested your presence, Prince Khadin.”

So be it. His time of waiting was finished. A knot formed in his stomach as he kept his gaze fixed upon the cord within the guard’s palm. Were they planning to execute him? Or would they do so after he’d spoken with Suleiman?

Laila moved to stand beside him, and Khadin took the parchment, folding it into her hand. “Give this to Princess Mihrimah. She will obey my orders.”

Her eyes widened, “But I thought—“

Khadin lowered his voice so that the kapici would not hear him. “My father has sent for me.”

“What are you afraid of?” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “I see it in your face.”

He risked a glance at the guards, who were growing impatient. “If I do not return to you, take the stallion and leave the palace. I’ve ordered escorts for you as well. They’ll see to your freedom.” He reached out to touch her face, but her eyes showed nothing but worry for him. “I should have given you emeralds or pearls for the nights we’ve spent together. But this, I think, is what you truly desire.”

“What do you mean, if you do not return?” she demanded. “Your own father would do nothing to harm you, would he?”

Khadin lowered his forehead to hers, not wanting anything but honesty between them. “I don’t know. But you will be safe. I’ve seen to it.”

She leaned up and pressed her mouth to his, and he gripped her fiercely. The touch of her lips sent a ripple of fire through him, reminding him of the sweetness they’d shared in his bed.

“If I can come back to you, I will,” he swore. Leading her forward, he walked into the corridor where a eunuch waited. “Take her back to the harem,” he commanded. But as she disappeared into the forbidden quarters, he couldn’t drive the memory of her from his mind. Nor did he want to.

Laila couldn’t stop herself from imagining the worst. Hours had passed since she’d been forced to leave the prince, and she didn’t know if he was still alive. Though she had been given her own place within the harem, she hardly cared. Not once had she slept anywhere but within Khadin’s bed. Being parted from him was wrenching, for he’d come to mean something to her.

Last night had been breathtaking. The physical intimacy seemed to grow more intense with each time she joined with him. It was as if she’d now given Khadin a part of herself to keep. Sleeping within his arms each night, he’d filled up all the empty places inside her heart, driving away the grief of loss. Perhaps it was only the attraction between them, but she wanted to believe that it could be more. It shouldn’t have affected her this way, but she couldn’t stop herself. And now, his life might be in danger.

She’d given the parchment declaring her freedom to the kizlar ağasi who had promised to inform the princess of her new status. Princess Mihrimah, the sultan’s eldest daughter, had taken the position of valide sultana after the death of her husband, governing the harem and its inhabitants. Laila hoped that Khadin’s wishes would be honored, but she would not know until she met with the woman.

Though she joined the other women in the hamam, bathing her sore muscles, she wanted to huddle against the wall and release the fear welling up inside her. Already her status had changed and not for the better. The concubines shot her jealous looks as they bathed, complaining that a Bedouin did not deserve to be favored by a prince. As she sat within the hot steam, Laila washed herself, remembering Khadin’s hands caressing her skin.

Don’t lose your heart to him, she warned herself. You’re only one woman among hundreds.

And yet, he’d kept his promise to grant her freedom and give her the stallion, though the animal was not fully tamed. She’d named the animal Amir, a name that reflected his princely nature. Proud and stubborn, he was a horse whom she felt she could love. The way she was starting to have feelings for Khadin.

Laila shivered, for the kapici who had escorted the prince had looked grim, as though they were bringing him to an execution rather than an audience. Let Khadin be safe, she prayed.

She stood from the baths and another eunuch attended her, wrapping her up in linen to dry. As she dressed for her meeting with Princess Mehrimah, her hands began shaking. She didn’t like this helpless feeling, of waiting behind these walls to know of her fate.

When she was brought to the valide sultana’s chambers, Laila saw an exquisitely beautiful older woman who wore robes patterned with turquoise and silver over a creamy-white anteri and şalvar trousers. Princess Mehrimah’s hair was hidden beneath a turban, and each of her fingers held a jeweled ring. Long fingernails curved in arches, while her cosmetics accentuated red lips and kohl-lined eyes.

As she was bidden, Laila knelt before the princess, and pressed her mouth to the hem of the turquoise robe. A soft hand lifted up her chin, and she dared to look into the valide sultana’s face.

“You have not yet been introduced to my father, have you?” Princess Mihrimah asked. Although her voice was calm and held a musical quality, Laila didn’t miss the power within it.

“No, my lady. I serve Prince Khadin,” Laila had answered.

The princess gave a thin smile. “I’ve heard the tales of you. That you’ve been working in the stables with one of the horses each day.” The woman’s fingertips touched her cheek. “It is not something I would ever permit. An odalisque should never leave the harem.”

Laila’s instincts warned her not to argue. There was more at stake than she realized.

The princess folded her hands in her lap. “It is said that you have a magical gift with animals. Perhaps you may be allowed to keep a pet of sorts.” An amused smile crossed her face. “Or perhaps my father will keep you as a pet, if you please him.”

The mention of the sultan made Laila’s insides clench tighter. She did not wish to be summoned to his bed, nor let her life fall into his hands. It was clear that her only means of escaping the palace was with the prince. If Khadin was permitted to leave.

“Will I have the honor of meeting the sultan?” Laila asked.

“He has already summoned you. I will take you to him now.”

Though Laila could not even imagine speaking to a man who held half the world within his power, there might be a way to influence Suleiman to grant her wishes.

Princess Mehrimah rose and a eunuch opened the door for both of them. “If you are intelligent, you will remain silent and be grateful for this opportunity.” Her expression grew guarded, “But do not refuse my father anything he asks. Khadin’s mother made the mistake of trading her turn within my father’s bed. Suleiman killed her for it.”

The valide sultana walked gracefully to the door, her turquoise robes gliding behind her. Laila was left with no alternative but to follow, while she grew aware of just how dangerous her circumstances were.

After walking through the women’s quarters, they reached the sultan’s Imperial Hall. The rich colors of blue, crimson and gold gleamed upon the walls. Intricate patterns were carved within the wood, and marble balustrades framed the throne.

Laila’s heart quickened when she saw Khadin seated at his father’s feet. Her fears multiplied at the sight of a knotted cord resting upon a cushion. She recognized it as a cord used for strangling men.

Khadin’s gaze locked upon her, as if wanting to assure himself that she was all right. She lowered her head in a faint nod, but the tension within the prince was unmistakable. Something was terribly wrong, and she had no idea what the sultan wanted with them.

She longed to go to Khadin, to see for herself if he was unharmed. But she dared not make a single move without permission. When she was presented to the sultan, she knelt low and kissed the ground at his feet.

Princess Mehrimah joined her father upon a cushioned divan.

“So you are the Bedouin my son purchased from the slave market.” The sultan leaned forward, his gaze searching. Laila tried not to make eye contact, but it was disconcerting to be under such scrutiny. She didn’t know if she was meant to answer, but rather than speak, she simply inclined her head.

“Look at me,” the sultan ordered. When she did, she forced herself to push back the fear. Suleiman the Magnificent was tall with a slender build. His saffron silk robes glittered with diamonds, and he wore a white turban. His beard had turned gray, and despite the wrinkles within his face and hands, she saw nothing but absolute power in his eyes.

“It is rare for a new slave to cause such a stir,” Suleiman began. “I understand that my son allowed you outside the harem, bringing you to the stables.”

She nodded, still uncertain of whether she was allowed to speak.

“I heard, too, that you faced a group of rearing horses in the slave markets and calmed them with your voice. The marketplace believes that you are an enchantress.”

Laila opened her mouth, her eyes asking him for permission to speak. He crossed his arms and gave a nod. “Explain yourself.”

“Your Majesty, I grew up around horses, and I know them well. They understand that I mean them no harm, and I helped my father to train the Arabians until we sold them.”

The sultan gave a nod, but she saw a note of curiosity in his eyes. He held out his hand, and the kizlar ağasi approached, handing over the parchment which contained the orders for her freedom. Laila forced herself to look down at the marble floor, her pulse trembling. What did he want from her now?

“Any woman who joins the harem becomes my property. Khadin does not have the right to grant your freedom.”

She didn’t dare lift her head up. What was he planning to do with her? The sultan had killed Khadin’s mother for not sharing his bed. Would he do the same to her? She didn’t know the sultan well, for her family had always traveled from place to place. He was rumored to be a fair-minded ruler, and ruthless toward his enemies.

But how had his son become the enemy? She couldn’t understand it. When a long silence fell across the room, she risked a glance at Khadin. His blue eyes met hers, and in them, she saw an apology. He’d brought her here, intending to keep her safe. And now, he might never return to his beloved province.

The sultan leaned forward, his knuckles tightening upon the arms of his chair. There was fury tight within his posture, and he kept his voice low as he remarked to his son, “Khadin, the people of Nerassia favor you. So much, that several of the visitors from that province have proclaimed their desire that you become the next sultan, instead of Selim, my heir.” In a quiet voice, he said, “I will not allow you to overthrow your brother.”

He seized the knotted cord and wrapped it around his son’s throat.

Khadin resisted the urge to fight against his father. The cord was loose around his throat, a threat that could descend at any moment. This was a test of obedience. Although he could easily toss the sultan to the ground, freeing himself, the guards would then behead him for the crime. His only hope was to remain perfectly still.

Suleiman’s hands were shaking, but no one could see it except Khadin. In his heart, he didn’t believe his father wanted him to die. But the Ottoman Empire meant everything to Suleiman. He would cut off his right arm if it was for the good of the kingdom. Yet, there was indecision, an unwillingness within his father’s actions.

“I cannot have war between my sons,” the sultan murmured, tightening the cord around Khadin’s throat. “Already Mustafa rose up against me, and I was forced to slay him with my own hand. I’ve no wish to do the same to you, but if your countrymen are threatening Selim’s accession, I shall have no choice.”

One hand held the cord, while the other hand rested upon Khadin’s hair. Only Khadin felt the gentleness of his father’s hidden caress while the sultan’s other hand possessed the power to kill.

“Tell me why I should let a traitor live.”

“Because my desire is to reign over Nerassia, not the empire,” Khadin answered. He raised his head and looked into his father’s eyes. “I have never doubted your right to be leader, nor my brother’s birthright.” He brought his hands on top of his father’s, trying to force Suleiman to recognize the truth. “Exile me. May any man strike me dead if I return to this city.”

The sultan stared into his eyes, as if he did not believe Khadin would hold true to his promise. “I should imprison you.” But he unwound the cord, letting it fall to the floor. Expelling a deep breath, he said, “Go, then. Take your belongings with you and return to Nerassia. But do not ever return here. You forfeit your life, if you do so.”

Khadin bowed, and at that moment, Laila moved forward suddenly, pressing her forehead to the sultan’s feet. Khadin seized her, pulling her away from his father. “It is forbidden to touch His Majesty.”

Allah, didn’t she know that such a gesture was reason enough for Suleiman to cut off her head? Within his embrace, her skin was frigid with fear. Laila gripped him, as if gathering strength.

But to his relief, the sultan lifted his hand. “You have something to say?”

“Something to ask,” Laila whispered. “Please. Let me go with Prince Khadin to Nerassia.”

Suleiman expelled a rough laugh. “Why would you believe I would grant your wish? You are a concubine, and your place is here.”

The sultan reached out for her hand, and Khadin had no choice but to release her. He watched as Laila was brought to sit at his father’s feet. She was fighting for her own freedom, and he didn’t know what he could do to help her.

“Your life belongs to me,” the sultan said. “There is no reason why I would give up a woman with such a talent for enchanting animals.” He signaled for the chief eunuch to come forward. “Return her to the harem. And this night, bring her to my rooms.”

Rage fired through Khadin’s veins, at the thought of Laila being subjected to his father. She belonged to him and no other man. But if he dared voice an argument, he had no doubt the sultan would cut her down at his feet.

As he met Laila’s stricken face, he sent her a silent vow. I’m going to get you out. No other man will touch you. I swear it.

The prince was gone. She’d seen it with her own eyes. From behind the lattice fence, Laila had watched as Khadin rode from the palace gates with his escorts. It was as if her heart had been torn out of her chest, taken away.

She was glad that the sultan had spared his life, but never had she expected to feel such a bitter loss. Not only the loss of her freedom, but the loneliness of knowing she would never see Khadin again.

Over and over, she berated herself for opening up to him. For believing that they could be more than simply lovers. What they’d shared was over now, and she was the prisoner of another man.

A numbness settled over her, as she endured the regimen of preparation again. When the eunuch massaged the fragrant oil into her skin, she could think only of Khadin’s touch. Of his hands sliding over her, tempting and arousing her. Tears burned in her eyes, though there was nothing she could do.

The hours slid away all too fast, until at last, it was time for her to be presented to the sultan. Clad in costly silk and jewels, she followed the chief eunuch. Her heart grew heavier with each step.

I can’t do this, she thought desperately. Even the idea of enduring another man’s touch was impossible to bear. Was it not better to die? The sultan would never let her go, she was certain.

Before they reached the sultan’s private rooms, she heard the sound of loud voices screaming. Outside, the heavy scent of smoke permeated the air. In the distance, she spied wooden outbuildings on fire. Slaves rushed through the courtyard, struggling with buckets of water to put out the flames.

The chief eunuch began to run. “Come. We must ensure that the sultan is safe.”

She stumbled, but the eunuch dragged her forward. Crowds of people struggled to evacuate, and the kapici were trying to maintain order while the heavy smoke seeped within the walls. Laila saw her chance to flee amid all the chaos, and she wrenched her arm away from the eunuch, running back outside.

The heavy air was thick with smoke, dimming the visibility. Laila had nearly reached the garden when a voice called out her name. She jerked out of instinct and saw one of the kapici running toward her, a curved scimitar at his belt.

Though she ran hard, he caught up to her, catching her about her waist. “Don’t fight me,” he warned. The low voice caught her attention, and she recognized Prince Khadin’s familiar blue eyes. Disguised as a royal guard, he’d masked his lower face.

Laila threw herself into his arms, grateful that he’d returned to her. Without another argument, she followed him through the gardens and out into the Second Court where the fire blazed.

They ran alongside one another toward the inner gate, and had nearly reached it, when they heard the sounds of horses approaching. The conflagration had spread to the stables, and the slaves were trying to evacuate the animals.

Laila heard the cries of a stallion balking at the whip. Though Amir had improved in the days she’d spent with him, he was still too impulsive and could cause serious harm. Galloping furiously, he broke free of the slave, unable to contain his raw terror.

Khadin took her hand, and they started to run toward the frightened animal. Amir was galloping toward a group of women who had gathered outside the harem, huddled together away from the men. Most were heavily veiled, wearing the ferace to disguise themselves.

Laila called out to Amir, her legs burning as she ran. It was like watching a nightmare unfold, as the charging horse could not be stopped. Princess Mehrimah stood with the women, too terrified to move.

Laila reached the princess’s side and shoved her out of the way, just as Amir reared up, his hooves high. Though the power of them could crush her, she held her ground.

Don’t be afraid, she willed the animal. Hear my voice and obey.

Despite the screams and the smoke, her attention was fully focused on the stallion. He dropped down when he saw her, and Laila removed her veil, holding it out so he could remember her scent. She spoke to him, and the familiar tones seemed to ease him. Her hands moved across his sensitive neck, stroking him until he was back under control.

Khadin lifted her on top of the horse, while she continued touching the stallion’s mane and easing him. The horse no longer balked, for the compulsion to obey Laila was too strong. Slowly, amidst the fleeing palace inhabitants, they made their way back to the Imperial Gate.

A row of kapici stood at the exit, their hands poised upon their weapons.

Chapter Five

“Reveal yourself,” came a commanding voice from behind them. The sultan stood with Princess Mehrimah at his side. Shaken, Mehrimah clung to her father.

Khadin lowered the cloth that hid his face. He met his father’s gaze, and saw the pattern of emotions there. First anger, then regret, mingled with sadness.

“You protected my daughter,” the sultan said to Laila, “at the risk to your own life. For that, I reward you with your freedom.”

Laila bowed low upon the horse, a grateful smile breaking over her face. Khadin mounted behind her and turned to face his father. The gift of Laila’s freedom meant everything to him, and he bowed his head in silent respect.

“She means that much to you?” Suleiman asked.

Khadin held Laila within his arms, nodding to his father. “More than anything in my province.” He knew the risk in admitting the truth, but he could not let her go. His grip tightened around her waist, as though he could shield her from every danger.

Laila had stood by him in his worst moments, even knowing that he might lose his own life. When they’d been lovers, she’d treated him like a man, not a prince. He only hoped that she would want to stay with him, now that she had the choice.

For one last moment, he bowed to his father. It seemed that the years passed between them in the bittersweet instant. And when he raised his head once more, he saw forgiveness in his father’s eyes.

The sultan lifted his hand in farewell, and the guards parted before them. Khadin kept his gaze upon his father, knowing it was the last time he would ever see Suleiman. Nonetheless, he was thankful for their lives.

They rode for several miles in the darkness until they reached the inn where Khadin had left his escorts and belongings earlier. Though Amir was not the easiest horse to control, Laila’s touch had kept him calm throughout the ride. The stable master promised to rub the horse down and give him the best care.

Once they reached the privacy of their own room, Khadin reached up and removed the outer robe he’d given Laila to cover herself. She pressed close to him, resting her face against his chest. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

“I wasn’t about to leave you at my father’s mercy.” He took her face between his hands, resting his forehead upon hers. He couldn’t say what he was feeling right now, but it meant everything to have her in his arms.

“You set the fire, didn’t you?”

His expression turned guilty. “One of my servants did. It wasn’t meant to spread that far.” Before she could berate him for it, he added, “I left my father a chest of jewels as compensation. There wasn’t too much damage.” He cupped her face in his palms. “But I’d have burned the palace down if it meant getting you out.”

She raised up on her toes, kissing him. Her mouth tasted of all the goodness within her, the bravery he admired.

“You have your freedom now,” he whispered against the soft flesh of her throat. “You can do whatever you wish.”

Her hands moved beneath his black kaftan, lifting it away until his chest was bared to her touch. “What I wanted most was already granted to me this night.” She fumbled with her clothing, removing the anteri and undergarments until she stood naked before him.

His hands slid over her pale skin. “If you want me to return you to the Bedouin people, I will.”

Laila reached back to unbraid her hair until it spilled past her shoulders. “No. I don’t belong with them anymore.”

For so long, she’d dreamed only of returning to the black tents of her people. She’d ached for the loss of her family and dear ones. But now, she had Khadin. Somehow, he’d slipped past her guarded feelings, into her heart. And though he was a prince, she didn’t want to be parted from his side. Deep inside, she saw a good man who valued the needs of others, above his own. A man who understood her, as no one else did.

She took his hand and started to lead him to the bed, needing to be with him. To show him her feelings and lose herself in his arms.

“Wait.” Khadin walked over to open a small chest at the far side of the room. “I have something for you.” His eyes turned wicked, and he concealed something within his palm. Laila couldn’t see what it was at first, but when she saw the strand of pearls, she relaxed. He’d once apologized for not bringing her rubies or jewels.

“You didn’t need to bring those,” she murmured, guiding him down for a kiss. “I am giving myself to you freely. Because I care for you.”

In the light of the oil lamp, he removed the rest of his clothing. His skin was dusky, his blue eyes gleaming when he guided her onto the bed. With his hand, he rolled the strand of pearls across her nipple, arousing it. She smiled against his mouth, reaching to guide his hips onto hers. Right now, she needed to reaffirm the bond that was between them, to give herself to him.

But Khadin replaced the pearls with his mouth, kissing her nipple as he brought the pearls lower still. Past her stomach, over her mons, to the intimate folds that were already wet for him.

“I missed you,” she whispered, running her hands over his shoulders, as if to learn his body once again. Though she had her freedom now, it meant everything to share it with him.

“I need you with me, Laila,” he said. “Stay.”

Though his words were solemn, beneath them, she sensed that it was about more than being his concubine. He spoke as if she were his equal, as if she were necessary to his happiness. The words were not a command, but a question.

“I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him again.

His hand reached between her legs, and before she understood what he was doing, his fingers dipped inside her, guiding the strand of pearls within. The erotic sensation of the round, smooth balls was shocking, more so when he withdrew just a portion of the strand and used a single pearl to massage her hooded flesh.

“What are you doing, Khadin?” she breathed, her body growing hotter as he fondled her. The walls of her womb gripped the pearls, and she reached over to touch his hot shaft, his silken flesh hard against her hand.

“These aren’t pearls for wearing, güzelim,” he whispered, his mouth warm against her throat. “They’re pearls meant to give you pleasure.” He drew them out farther, and she caught her breath at the sensation.

“I’m going to prepare you,” he said. “I’d prefer it if you’re already wet when I join my body with yours.”

As he stimulated her with the pearl, she drew her fingers around his erection, caressing his velvet length. With a rhythm, she stroked him, delighting when his eyes grew hooded, and he increased the pressure of the pearl against her intimate center.

“There is so much I want to show you,” he murmured against her ear. “This is only the beginning of the pleasure I’ll give to you each night.”

His words were a powerful stimulant, and the pressure of the pearls against her sensitive flesh, was too much to bear. She gasped when the wave of release crashed through her, her core erupting with shaking ecstasy.

Khadin slowly withdrew the strand of pearls from her body. He rolled it back up to her breasts, bringing his heated length against her sex. She could feel the moisture from her arousal upon the cool gems, and it provoked an echoing ache within her womb. As he teased her breasts with the pearls, she moaned with need. His length, pressed so close to her opening, was thick and hard, and more than anything, she wanted him inside her.

Abruptly Khadin tossed the pearls to the floor and thrust deep within her. The driving motion sent her into another frenzy, her body clenching him, just as she had the pearls.

“Laila,” he gritted out as he filled her, lifting her hips. “No other man will claim you, except me.”

She couldn’t stop the gasp as he withdrew and entered her again. “No one,” she promised. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, meeting him with every thrust. As he filled her, using his body to coax a feverish response, she surrendered to the heady pleasure, crying out when liquid heat spasmed within her core. Khadin continued to make love to her, quickening the tempo against her moist heat until his body shuddered with his own release.

Afterward, he held her close, his hands moving over her skin as if to mark her as his own. With his flesh still inside her, he whispered, “You’re like no other woman I’ve ever known.” His lips brushed against her throat, and she held him tightly, bringing his body pressed to her own. “My kingdom doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

His breath warmed her skin, and she cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes. “My heart is yours, Khadin, whether we live in a palace or a black tent.” All that mattered was being with him.

“Stay with me, Laila. Not as my concubine, but as my beloved wife.” He kissed her again, and her heart swelled at the love within his words. “Let me take care of you. And love you.”

“Wherever you go, so will I,” she promised. And as she lay within his arms, she couldn’t stop her smile.

If you liked this story by Michelle Willingham, try more of her sensual historical romances always available in eBook format:

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Michelle Willingham grew up living in places all over the world, including Germany, England and Thailand.  When her parents hauled her to antiques shows in manor houses and castles, Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance.

She graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame, with a degree in English, and received her master’s degree in Education from George Mason University.  Currently she teaches American History and English.  She lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children.  She still doesn’t have her broadsword.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-5286-2

Innocent in the Harem

Copyright © 2010 by Michelle Willingham

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