Lost Love Found (60 page)

She was still gasping with the shock of it all, when, still imbedded within her, he lifted her and turned her onto her back. Pinioning her arms on either side of her head, he commanded her, “Open your eyes, Naksh,” and locked his steely gaze with hers as she obeyed.

Her violet eyes were like rain-washed jewels, and so glazed with passion that he felt a wave of deep excitement sweep over him. He had not yet taken his own release, and his manhood was rock-hard and throbbing. “Tell me again, my perfect houri! Tell me what you would have me do to you!”

“Please,” she whispered, and he covered her mouth with his, his tongue sliding past her teeth to her tongue.

When he lifted his head, the demand, a silent one now, was still there in his eyes. As firm and implacable as the hugeness pulsing within her. There would be no quick and easy end to this battle, Valentina realized, but he might be easier on her if she cooperated.

What did the words really mean without honest feeling behind them? She had to consider that tomorrow he would take her to his palace in the city. Once there, she might be able to escape to the Kiras’ house, where Padraic surely still awaited her.

Padraic! Padraic! she silently called to him, as she had called to him in nearly every waking hour of her captivity. In Istanbul, she reminded herself, escape might be possible. On this island, it was not.

“Naksh!” His voice cut into her thoughts.

Valentina focused her amethyst eyes on Cicalazade Pasha. “Fuck me, my lord Cica!” she said fiercely. “Oh, fuck me!” And with a shout of pure triumph, he plundered her sweetness again.

The night was a long one, by far the longest night of her life. Her greatest fear was that he might give her a child, for she did not, of course, have her potion.

She would never have believed that a man could be so unflaggingly potent. He took her there on the bed any number of times during that night, and twice within the bath, where he backed her against the tiles and, lifting her, impaled her on his mighty shaft.

He forced her to kneel before him and revive his manhood with her mouth. Then he tongued her tiny jewel until she was screaming for release. After each bout with passion, he poured them goblets of the pale gold wine, and they drank them down. She realized that the wine had been laced with restoratives, for his lust was unbridled and inexhaustible. When the vizier finally fell asleep, sated at last and triumphant, Valentina wept with relief.

Shakir and Halim woke them at midmorning. Shakir had prepared a meal of grilled fish, caught only moments before, warm, flat bread, green figs, and yogurt. There was a bowl of perfect, round oranges, dusky purple grapes, and sweet, brown-gold pears. The eunuch poured the remaining wine into the goblets for them, then, he and Halim discreetly withdrew.

Valentina could not look Cicalazade Pasha in the eye, but the vizier, triumphant, was gracious in conquest.

“How so passionate a woman can be so innately modest puzzles me, Naksh,” he teased her. “I bear upon my back the marks of your sharp nails, and may be scarred forever with the evidence of your sweet, hot desire.”

“A desire, my lord, wrung from me forcibly, and a desire of the flesh only. You shall never possess my heart,” she told him quietly.

Reaching across the low table where they sat, he cupped her face in his hand and said in a soft, husky voice, “I shall eventually possess all of you, Naksh. Your heart, your mind, your very soul. In the end, you will deny me nothing, my beauty. Indeed, you will be eager to give me anything I desire of you.” His blue-gray eyes smoldered at her, then he released her.

Her face was burning with shame. It was all she could do not to hit him. He was the most appallingly arrogant man she had ever known. She, who had always been praised for her cool, logical behavior, was quite tempted to violent, reckless actions against this man. Wisely, she held her tongue. She was not off this damned island and out of his gilded cage yet.

They bathed again after their meal, but this time Shakir and Halim were there to serve them. Afterward, Valentina was dressed in rich violet silk pantaloons studded with tiny gold stars woven into the cloth. Her ankle bands were gold, edged in purple quartz. Her gauze blouse was a deep rose color, her little sleeveless jacket striped in violet, rose, and gold and edged in the same purple quartz as her ankle bands. Shakir knelt to slip gold slippers on her feet and to tie about her a hip sash of cloth of gold.

The eunuch then seated her so that he might do her hair. He brushed Valentina’s long, dark brown hair until its red and gold lights were gleaming. Then, with quick, skillful fingers, he plaited the hair into a single braid, weaving into it a pearl-studded golden ribbon.

When he had finished, he opened a small ebony box and began to adorn her with jewelry. Huge pink diamonds dangled from her earlobes. A rope of creamy pearls was placed over her head and gold bangles, some plain, some studded with pearls, and others with gemstones, were pushed onto her arms. Rings were set upon two fingers of her left hand, one amethyst and one diamond. For her right hand, there was an enormous pearl set in gold and surrounded by diamonds.

“These are now yours, Naksh,” Shakir said, low. “A gift from the master. You will enter his harem as a queen. If you continue to please him, you will remain a queen.”

Valentina fixed the eunuch with a disdainful look that left him feeling extremely uncomfortable. She remained silent.

The vizier was now fully dressed as well. She had to admit that he was an extremely handsome man. His pantaloons were of white silk, the ankle bands embroidered in stripes of gold and silver. His shirt was of white silk. About his waist was a tightly wrapped sash of cloth of gold, much bejeweled. His long, sleeveless robe was also of cloth of gold, but it was brocaded with black velvet tulips and its edges and hem were trimmed in rich, dark sable. His boots were of dark leather. An elegantly wrapped cloth-of-gold turban with two white plumes fitted in a bejeweled aigrette was the last item of clothing to be placed on the vizier. When he was satisfied with its fit, he held out his hand to her.

“Come, Naksh! It is time for us to go home,” he said.

She put her hand in his, feeling the strong fingers closing about hers. There was no need to antagonize the man. He must be made to believe that she was accepting, albeit reluctantly, her place in life. His ego was so great that it would not take long to lull him into a sense of false security, thereby allowing her the opportunity to plan her escape. She silently cursed her own stupidity and stubbornness. Why hadn’t she realized before this that pretending to yield to him was her only escape? What a fool she had been! Once back in Istanbul, it would be so easy. From this island, it was impossible.

Together they departed from the Starlight Kiosk and walked down the cliffside steps to the quay, where the vizier’s caïque awaited them. Her eyes widened appreciatively at her first sight of the caïque, an absolutely beautiful boat. It was totally gilded with gold leaf, and there were red lacquer designs on its sides. The oars were painted in alternating colors of pale blue and silver. The silk awning was striped in red, gold, blue, and silver and was suspended from four gilded posts carved with leaves and flowers. The deck was of polished rosewood; the curtain in the seating area, scarlet silk shot through with gold; the double divan beneath the awning, cloth of silver, and piled high with multicolored silk pillows.

The eight slaves chosen to row the vessel, four on each side, were perfectly matched. They were coal-black, and each stood exactly six feet tall. The slaves wore about their necks wide silver dog collars studded with aquamarines. Those pulling the silver oars wore pale blue pantaloons sashed in silver, while those with light blue oars wore blue sashes and silver pantaloons. Their feet were bare, but each man wore about his right ankle an engraved bracelet.

“What does the writing on their anklets say, my lord?” Valentina asked him through her violet gauze veil.

“It gives each man’s name and states that he is the property of Cicalazade Pasha, the sultan’s grand vizier.”

“But why the anklets? They could tell you who they are,” she responded.

“No, my exquisite Naksh, they could not. You see, my rowers have no tongues, their tongues having been removed so that they cannot gossip about what is said upon this vessel,” he explained.

“That is horrible!” she exclaimed.

“Perhaps, but it is also practical, for should something said on this caique be repeated, it is far easier to find and punish the culprit knowing that my eight rowers are completely innocent. My little pleasure boat holds but a dozen people, including the rowers. Should gossip be repeated, I know neither I nor my eight rowers are guilty of indiscretion. At most, then, my hunt for the guilty party is limited to three people.”

Shakir spoke up. “Halim and I shall close the kiosk, my lord, and then return to the palace.”

“You have arranged transportation?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Very good,” said the vizier, and waved to his rowers to begin the voyage.

As the vessel moved swiftly across the water, Valentina fully realized the wisdom of not attempting to swim her way to freedom. Anxiously, she scanned the ships moored in and along the Golden Horn and was almost giddy with relief when she saw the flags of her own little convoy flying high atop their masts. They had not left her! She had felt all along that they would not.

“There is more color in your cheeks than I have ever seen before,” Cicalazade Pasha noted observantly.

“It is the excitement of being off the island,” she said quickly. “It is a beautiful place, my lord, but after a while it becomes boring.”

“You may find my harem even more boring, Naksh.”

“With the whole city outside your gates, my lord?”

“You will not be allowed outside my gates, beautiful one,” came the daunting reply.

“Never?” she cried. How could she escape if she could not get into the city?

He put a possessive arm about her and drew her close to him. His other hand slid into her blouse and fondled her breasts. “Perhaps, eventually, when I am certain of your loyalty and your love for me, I will allow you the privilege of visiting the bazaars, suitably chaperoned. You must continue to please me, however, as you pleased me last night, Naksh. And, of course, I must have good reports from Shakir, who is to be your personal eunuch, and Hammid, my grand eunuch.” Gently drawing the fabric of her blouse aside, he lifted one of her breasts and lowered his head to suckle. He loosened her hip sash and slipped a hand beneath the silk of her pantaloons.

Valentina gritted her teeth and played the part she knew she had to play. “Oh, my lord!” she whispered. “What if the rowers should see us? Or a passing boat?” She sounded breathless and excited, and the truth was that his teasing fingers were beginning to have a certain effect on her.

He lifted his head and, looking directly at her, said, “The rowers have their backs to us and will not dare turn around no matter what they hear. The curtains offer us enough privacy. You, my Naksh”—his fingers thrust into her—“are more than ready now to pleasure me before we reach our destination. Lower your pantaloons for me!” He relaxed his hold on her long enough to fumble with his own baggy trousers, releasing his already hard and swollen manhood.

“Oh, my lord!” Valentina blushed, the blush having been brought on quite naturally by the situation. The rowers would hear everything!

Taking her about the waist, the vizier lifted her up and impaled her on his great shaft. She gasped as he entered her, stretching and filling her.

“Lean forward,” he commanded, “that I may have your breasts,” and she obeyed as his mouth closed over a nipple. His big hands cupped her buttocks. “Now, Naksh,” he said, “you will fuck me.”

She quickly found the rhythm and began to move upon him, her face hidden against his shoulder. She hated him! She hated his lustfulness and she hated his body, but she would endure anything to reach Istanbul again. She would suffer his lascivious attentions in order to be in a place where she might finally escape.

Suddenly he released her breast from his mouth and commanded her to put her lips near his. “No! Do not close your eyes, my beauty. I would have our souls meet at passion’s peak. Ah, how your sweet sheath tightens about me! Can you feel me throbbing a message of love within your honeyed passage?” His fingers dug into her buttocks. “Faster, my beauty! Faster! Ah, what a hot little piece you are, Naksh.”

Damn him, Valentina thought, feeling her crisis approaching, why must my body respond? I don’t want to give him pleasure, and it seems wrong that I should feel pleasure. Damn him for the rutting boar he is! But she felt her body beginning to shudder, even as the vizier’s passion burst within her, and she fell forward, exhausted, into his embrace.

“Hmm.” He sighed, satisfied. “By Allah, my beauty, you have pleased me well!” His hand stroked her head possessively. “Your hair is like fine strands of silk, Naksh. I am gladdened to see you learning to be more amenable.” He reached up to caress her lovely breasts.

“It does not please me at all that my body responds to yours, my lord,” she said, the words escaping from her before she could stop them, but, to her surprise, he only laughed.

“I am delighted to learn that I have not broken your spirit, Naksh. You would bore me if you became too complacent.” His fingers tweaked her tingling nipples.

“I shall never bore you, my lord,” she promised him. “I am yet quite capable of surprising you, I assure you.”

“And I, my beauty, am equally capable of surprising you,” he growled softly in her ear. He lifted her off him and settled her into her place by his side. “Correct your dress,” he said. “We are about to land.”

When they left the caïque, he took her directly to his grand eunuch and left her there without a word. Valentina stood silently before the ebony mountain of flesh who was called Hammid, a creature, she had learned during the summer months, who was both respected and greatly feared by all of the inhabitants of the vizier’s household. Sitting on a divan, dressed flamboyantly in bright orange and gold robes, the grand eunuch’s height was increased by a huge cloth-of-gold turban that had a great black pearl in its center.