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Authors: Linda Lael Miller
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with its splendid embroidery, and the thick plait of honey blond hair draped over her right shoulder. Alev had woven ribbons and strands of pearls through the braid, and she’d lined Charlotte’s eyes with kohl and painted her lips, too.
The captain let out a long breath, then his quicksilver grin reappeared, and his indigo gaze sparkled with mischievous amusement. He took her hand, turned it, and kissed the palm lightly, and she hoped he didn’t feel her responding shiver of pleasure.
“You’re still here,” she said, regretting the words the moment she’d uttered them.
Khalif interrupted the encounter then—Charlotte had quite forgotten his presence, magnificent though he was—and said, “You may attend the captain in his quarters, Charlotte. A servant will come for you when it is time to return to the harem.”
The cavalier manner in which Khalif had spoken irritated Charlotte, but she was too anxious to question Patrick to protest.
Patrick turned and started toward the doorway through which he’d entered, and Charlotte scrambled to keep pace with him.
“You’d better walk behind me,” he warned in a whisper, his eyes twinkling, “if you don’t want a long lecture on etiquette after your return to the harem.”
Charlotte flushed with indignation and annoyance, but she fell back a few steps all the same.
Patrick finally paused in front of a door, high and archedlike all the others, and gripped the knob. He watched Charlotte with both humor and uneasiness when she swept past him, nose high, shoulders rigid with dignity.
The room was dominated by an enormous round couch, upholstered in dark blue velvet, and there were large, brightly colored pillows scattered across the tile floor. On a small table in one corner, a brazier burned, filling the air with a smoky aroma of jasmine. A tray of food awaited on the wide stone ledge under the single window.
Patrick gestured toward a nest of cushions piled on the floor. “Sit down,” he said gruffly, and even though Charlotte couldn’t tell whether he’d issued an invitation or an order, she sat.
Her knees had gone a little weak. “When are we leaving?”
Patrick carried the tray to where Charlotte waited and set it down before her.
“We’ll talk about that later,” he said.
Although Charlotte was troubled by something in his manner, she was also ravenously hungry. She consumed her share of rice, fried eggplant, and pastries filled with a mixture of cheese and spinach.
When the gnawing in her middle had been eased, Charlotte sat up very straight and said, “One of the women in the harem said you were lying when you promised to take me with you.”
Patrick looked away for a moment, then shifted his inky gaze resolutely back to her face. “I was telling the truth,” he said quietly, “but I wonder if you’re going to believe that after tonight.”
The fine food made a tempest in Charlotte’s stomach, and she felt the color drain from her face. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
Patrick made no further pretense of eating. “You’ll be safer here, at least for the next few weeks. After I’ve completed my business in Spain and Turkey—”
“What business?” Charlotte demanded, starting to rise awkwardly from the pillows. “Have you procured another virgin, Captain? Someone to sell into slavery, the way you sold me to Khalif?”
Patrick’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly he was standingvery near, towering over her, immovable, like some monument chiseled from marble. “Good God, Charlotte, you can’t possibly believe I’d do such a thing!”
“Why shouldn’t I believe it?” Charlotte cried, outraged and afraid. Until now, she’d managed to maintain her composure, for the most part, but she was rapidly losing ground. “You’re breaking your promise! You’re leaving me here, just as Alev said you would!”
He shook his head, and his eyes reflected an anger equal to or greater than Charlotte’s own. “You were originally
The captain let out a long breath, then his quicksilver grin reappeared, and his indigo gaze sparkled with mischievous amusement. He took her hand, turned it, and kissed the palm lightly, and she hoped he didn’t feel her responding shiver of pleasure.
“You’re still here,” she said, regretting the words the moment she’d uttered them.
Khalif interrupted the encounter then—Charlotte had quite forgotten his presence, magnificent though he was—and said, “You may attend the captain in his quarters, Charlotte. A servant will come for you when it is time to return to the harem.”
The cavalier manner in which Khalif had spoken irritated Charlotte, but she was too anxious to question Patrick to protest.
Patrick turned and started toward the doorway through which he’d entered, and Charlotte scrambled to keep pace with him.
“You’d better walk behind me,” he warned in a whisper, his eyes twinkling, “if you don’t want a long lecture on etiquette after your return to the harem.”
Charlotte flushed with indignation and annoyance, but she fell back a few steps all the same.
Patrick finally paused in front of a door, high and archedlike all the others, and gripped the knob. He watched Charlotte with both humor and uneasiness when she swept past him, nose high, shoulders rigid with dignity.
The room was dominated by an enormous round couch, upholstered in dark blue velvet, and there were large, brightly colored pillows scattered across the tile floor. On a small table in one corner, a brazier burned, filling the air with a smoky aroma of jasmine. A tray of food awaited on the wide stone ledge under the single window.
Patrick gestured toward a nest of cushions piled on the floor. “Sit down,” he said gruffly, and even though Charlotte couldn’t tell whether he’d issued an invitation or an order, she sat.
Her knees had gone a little weak. “When are we leaving?”
Patrick carried the tray to where Charlotte waited and set it down before her.
“We’ll talk about that later,” he said.
Although Charlotte was troubled by something in his manner, she was also ravenously hungry. She consumed her share of rice, fried eggplant, and pastries filled with a mixture of cheese and spinach.
When the gnawing in her middle had been eased, Charlotte sat up very straight and said, “One of the women in the harem said you were lying when you promised to take me with you.”
Patrick looked away for a moment, then shifted his inky gaze resolutely back to her face. “I was telling the truth,” he said quietly, “but I wonder if you’re going to believe that after tonight.”
The fine food made a tempest in Charlotte’s stomach, and she felt the color drain from her face. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
Patrick made no further pretense of eating. “You’ll be safer here, at least for the next few weeks. After I’ve completed my business in Spain and Turkey—”
“What business?” Charlotte demanded, starting to rise awkwardly from the pillows. “Have you procured another virgin, Captain? Someone to sell into slavery, the way you sold me to Khalif?”
Patrick’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly he was standingvery near, towering over her, immovable, like some monument chiseled from marble. “Good God, Charlotte, you can’t possibly believe I’d do such a thing!”
“Why shouldn’t I believe it?” Charlotte cried, outraged and afraid. Until now, she’d managed to maintain her composure, for the most part, but she was rapidly losing ground. “You’re breaking your promise! You’re leaving me here, just as Alev said you would!”
He shook his head, and his eyes reflected an anger equal to or greater than Charlotte’s own. “You were originally
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