Read Online The Pirate Prince by Connie Mason - Free Book Online Page B

Captain Hamid, so you should have no difficulty continuing your journey to Istanbul.”
    “Without my cargo,” Hamid groused.
    Dariq shrugged, and then winced when a particularly deep cut above his eyebrow caused a twinge of pain. “Sit down, Captain, and listen closely while I give you the message you are to convey to Ibrahim. You are to say that I have his ‘treasure,’ and that she is everything and more than he could wish for. Tell him I will return her to him—untouched, of course—in exchange for my mother.”
    Hamid frowned. “I have heard that Ibrahim’s long-anticipated treasure is a woman but did not credit it. Is that all?”
    “Nay, there is more. Tell Ibrahim that I want Kamel to act as contact between us, and that arrangements for the exchange will be made through him. And tell him his ‘treasure’ is more beautiful than the moon and stars, well worth the price he paid.”
    “Very well, I will tell the sultan everything you have said. He will not like it, but I will tell him.”
    “There is one more thing. Wait here. I will return shortly with something for you to give Ibrahim to prove my claim.”
    Dariq left the cabin and strode swiftly across the deck. Grabbing a dangling line, he swung across the divide to the
Revenge
. Once aboard his ship, he went directly to his cabin. He found Willow pacing the room, her face white,her eyes glazed with fear. She halted in mid step, then raced toward him, gasping when she saw his bloody clothing.
    “You’re hurt! Do you have a surgeon aboard? Tell me what to do.”
    “Easy,” Dariq said, “ ’tis just blood. Some of it’s mine and some not. I have suffered worse than this in my life.”
    “Is it over? The fighting sounded fierce.”
    “ ’Tis over,” Dariq replied. “My men are transferring the
Mahmed’s
cargo to the
Revenge
. Then she’ll be free to proceed.”
    Willow nearly collapsed in relief, glad that the bloodshed had ended. Never would she understand men and their thirst for violence. She glanced up at Dariq to tell him what she thought of him and the violent life he led, and nearly stopped breathing when she saw that he held a knife in his hand.
    She recoiled, raising her hand to protect herself when he raised the blade toward her. “Nay! Why do you want to kill me?”
    Dariq staggered backward. “You think I meant to kill you? There are many things I wish to do to you, but killing is not one of them.”
    “You raised your knife to me.”
    “I merely want a lock of your hair to send to Ibrahim. Once he sees it, he will believe that you are my captive. The good captain has agreed to carry my terms for your ransom to my brother. Now hold still while I cut off a hank of your hair.”
    Willow stood still as a statue while Dariq lifted a long strand of hair and sawed off a portion from the end. Then he rummaged in his desk until he found a narrow leather thong to tie around the lock of hair. Next he produced a cloth pouch, placed Willow’s hair in it and pulledthe strings tight. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door.
    “Wait!”
    He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
    “What about your wounds? Who will see to them?”
    “Are you worried about me, beauty?”
    “I… I, no, of course not. No more than I would worry about any wounded human being.”
    “Fear not, I will survive. Mustafa knows more about healing than any surgeon. He will see to my wounds.”
    Despite the throbbing of multiple cuts and bruises, Dariq couldn’t help smiling. No matter how much his captive denied it, she was interested enough in him to care about his well-being. He could scarcely wait for the day he would teach her about pleasure, and ways to gain it without breaching her maidenhead.
    Willow would be far from innocent when she went to Ibrahim. He counted the ways he could take her—with his mouth, his tongue, his hands—and she would enjoy them all. He would even teach her to give him pleasure.
    His mind turned away from erotic