Read Online Taming Charlotte by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
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hissed. “But you insist on overlooking the fact—like that cranky old biddy just did—that I’m a
guest
here. I don’t belong to the sultan, or to any man, and I won’t be ordered about and bullied as if I did!”
For the second time in their brief acquaintance, Alev rolled her eyes. “It is true what they say about Americans—they are hardheaded and impossible to reason with, if you are any example.” They were inside again, in the cool, spice-scented
hamam.
“No more arguments now; you have been summoned to the sultan’s quarters. We must see to your appearance.”
Charlotte stopped, digging in her heels. “What?”
“Khalif has sent for you. You must not go to him with your hair all tangled and full of leaves and your robe torn and dirty.”
Charlotte drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. She clearly had little choice in the matter; therefore, she would go to the sultan with dignity. Surely Patrick would be there, too, and offer his protection.
It was Khalif, Charlotte reflected as she walked beside Alev, who needed protecting. As soon as she saw him, she meant to tell him exactly what she thought of his barbaric behavior.
Half an hour later, dressed in a clean, canary yellow gown, her hair brushed and braided and woven through with pearls and ribbon, her body perfumed, her wide eyesaccented with kohl, Charlotte followed the eunuch, Rashad, through a complicated series of hallways. After many twists and turns, which collectively convinced Charlotte that it would be simpler to find her way out of a maze, they walked beneath a doorway as high as some she’d seen in European cathedrals.
The colors in the room were wondrously bright, the walls were covered with spectacular tapestries and weavings. A man wearing a red silk robe and a jeweled turban stood on a dais edged with hundreds of tiny mirrors, his arms folded.
Charlotte gulped. The sultan was handsome, just as Alev had said. He was also more intimidating than Charlotte could ever have imagined.
“Come forward,” he said.
Charlotte looked around desperately for Patrick, but saw no sign of him, and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. In that moment, it seemed a certainty that Alev had indeed been right: Patrick had abandoned her to an unthinkable fate.
4
C HARLOTTE TOOK A FEW WARY STEPS FORWARD, IN OBEDIENCE to the sultan’s command, but she did not lower her head or avert her gaze. Scared as she was, she would not assume a submissive attitude.
“Your name?” the sultan asked. Khalif was breathtakingly handsome, with his ebony hair and shining, dark eyes, and she could see why Alev found him so attractive.
The captive raised her chin. “Charlotte,” she replied in a clear voice.
Khalif smiled indulgently. “Charlotte,” he repeated, as though tasting the name. “Charlotte Brown? Charlotte Clark? Charlotte Smith, perhaps?”
“Just Charlotte,” she said. She had not revealed the Quade name to Patrick, and she had no intention of giving it away now. It was better, by her reckoning, if her family could be kept out of the whole nasty episode until she could go home and explain everything to them.
The sultan sighed philosophically and descended the three steps of the dais to stand directly in front of Charlotte. “Very well, then. For now, you may keep your little secret. Tell me, what do you think of my palace?”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, braced to defend her virtue, but Khalif made no unseemly move. “It’s like something from a storybook,” she said, in her straightforward way. “I have never seen such luxury, or such—”
Before she could finish the sentence, a servant appeared in a second enormous doorway and announced someone’s arrival. A moment later, Charlotte saw Patrick striding toward them, looking for all the world like a pirate in his breeches and flowing linen shirt.
Her heart somersaulted, then seemed to spin dizzily with hope. He hadn’t left her after all.
Patrick took in her wispy golden robe,
guest
here. I don’t belong to the sultan, or to any man, and I won’t be ordered about and bullied as if I did!”
For the second time in their brief acquaintance, Alev rolled her eyes. “It is true what they say about Americans—they are hardheaded and impossible to reason with, if you are any example.” They were inside again, in the cool, spice-scented
hamam.
“No more arguments now; you have been summoned to the sultan’s quarters. We must see to your appearance.”
Charlotte stopped, digging in her heels. “What?”
“Khalif has sent for you. You must not go to him with your hair all tangled and full of leaves and your robe torn and dirty.”
Charlotte drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. She clearly had little choice in the matter; therefore, she would go to the sultan with dignity. Surely Patrick would be there, too, and offer his protection.
It was Khalif, Charlotte reflected as she walked beside Alev, who needed protecting. As soon as she saw him, she meant to tell him exactly what she thought of his barbaric behavior.
Half an hour later, dressed in a clean, canary yellow gown, her hair brushed and braided and woven through with pearls and ribbon, her body perfumed, her wide eyesaccented with kohl, Charlotte followed the eunuch, Rashad, through a complicated series of hallways. After many twists and turns, which collectively convinced Charlotte that it would be simpler to find her way out of a maze, they walked beneath a doorway as high as some she’d seen in European cathedrals.
The colors in the room were wondrously bright, the walls were covered with spectacular tapestries and weavings. A man wearing a red silk robe and a jeweled turban stood on a dais edged with hundreds of tiny mirrors, his arms folded.
Charlotte gulped. The sultan was handsome, just as Alev had said. He was also more intimidating than Charlotte could ever have imagined.
“Come forward,” he said.
Charlotte looked around desperately for Patrick, but saw no sign of him, and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. In that moment, it seemed a certainty that Alev had indeed been right: Patrick had abandoned her to an unthinkable fate.
4
C HARLOTTE TOOK A FEW WARY STEPS FORWARD, IN OBEDIENCE to the sultan’s command, but she did not lower her head or avert her gaze. Scared as she was, she would not assume a submissive attitude.
“Your name?” the sultan asked. Khalif was breathtakingly handsome, with his ebony hair and shining, dark eyes, and she could see why Alev found him so attractive.
The captive raised her chin. “Charlotte,” she replied in a clear voice.
Khalif smiled indulgently. “Charlotte,” he repeated, as though tasting the name. “Charlotte Brown? Charlotte Clark? Charlotte Smith, perhaps?”
“Just Charlotte,” she said. She had not revealed the Quade name to Patrick, and she had no intention of giving it away now. It was better, by her reckoning, if her family could be kept out of the whole nasty episode until she could go home and explain everything to them.
The sultan sighed philosophically and descended the three steps of the dais to stand directly in front of Charlotte. “Very well, then. For now, you may keep your little secret. Tell me, what do you think of my palace?”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, braced to defend her virtue, but Khalif made no unseemly move. “It’s like something from a storybook,” she said, in her straightforward way. “I have never seen such luxury, or such—”
Before she could finish the sentence, a servant appeared in a second enormous doorway and announced someone’s arrival. A moment later, Charlotte saw Patrick striding toward them, looking for all the world like a pirate in his breeches and flowing linen shirt.
Her heart somersaulted, then seemed to spin dizzily with hope. He hadn’t left her after all.
Patrick took in her wispy golden robe,
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