Love Wild and Fair (58 page)

“I am not one of your soft harem beauties, quick to spread her legs for the master,” she spat at him. “I will not yield. It will be rape!”

He laughed again, and his eyes twinkled. “All right,” he said, “then it will be rape, which could be very titillating.” And she felt his hands on her hips untying the striped sash and inching her silk pantaloons off.

“No,” she shrieked. “No!” Struggling angrily against him, she tried to claw at him, and he laughed. He was stronger by far, and Cat began to tire. Successfully stripping her, the vizier slid his own pantaloons off while still straddling her. Now he lay his warm naked body the length of her naked body, enjoying the satiny feel of her. He made to kiss her, but she furiously turned away from him. Chuckling, he caught her head between his hands and his mouth swooped down on hers.

Gently he ran his tongue along her little white teeth, and though she tried to deny him, the fires of her own desire were fast rising. Her lips parted with a despairing little moan, and as his tongue darted into the fragrant cavity of her mouth, she shivered beneath him. His lips moved to tenderly kiss her eyelids and then her cheeks, wet with silent tears. He stopped, and raising himself on one elbow he asked quietly, “Why can you not give yourself to me completely? Your body longs for mine, yet you deny me a full victory.”

“I—I—I do not love you, my lord Cicalazade. I love my husband. In my land a woman who yields her body to a man she does not love is considered the lowest of creatures.”

“But I love you. No, Incili, don’t look incredulous. I speak the truth. Were I only interested in your lovely body I should not care about your feelings. But I do care. Unless I have all of you, my love, I have none of you, and that is intolerable to me.” The intensity of his voice was frightening. “You will never see your husband again. You belong to me now, but I will be patient, for I want you to love me.” And the sensuous mouth was again closing hungrily over hers, demanding, searing.

Unable to stop herself, Cat clung to this passionate man and felt his hands stroking her trembling body. His lips were on her breasts, his tongue tracing tantalizing patterns, torturing the nipples into hard, hurting little peaks. The teasing tongue moved across her shrinking belly, sinking lower and lower, seeking access to her sweetness.

His tongue was like soft fire burning into her writhing body, thrusting deeper and deeper until she was mindless with the waves of pleasure sweeping over her. Then he was in her, hard and hurting, making her cry out in rapture, begging him—to her shame—not to stop.

Never in all of his life had he wanted so desperately to prolong his own passion. She consumed him with a flame of lust unequal to anything he had ever experienced as he strove to bring her to complete fulfillment. He didn’t want to stop, but then his foaming seed was pouring fiercely into her, and she cried out her joy.

But afterwards she wept again in his arms, sobbing against the dark mat of his broad chest. He held her tightly while one hand caressed her tawny head, soothing her. For a brief moment he understood her anguish, for he knew that if he ever lost her his own world would be meaningless. He, Cicalazade Pasha, grand vizier to Sultan Mohammed III, caught in the silken web of his beautiful, unwilling slavewoman. What irony!

The weeping had stopped and he slept, cradling her against him. Awaking in the dark of night, he sensed that she was not sleeping. “Hammid tells me,” he said softly, “that you are feeling confined. Would you like to go with me tomorrow night? It is the night of the full moon, and I own a small island down the Bosporus. On it is a little kiosk with a roof that opens to the sky. Tomorrow night I will take you there, and make love to you beneath the moonlit heavens.”

He felt her tremble next to him and, turning, pulled her into his arms. His lips were tender, and so was his body now as he gently took her again, delighting in her little moan of surrender. This time she did not weep afterwards, but for a few moments cuddled sweetly against him.

It was fortunate that on the following day he had no state business to attend to, for he could not keep his mind on anything but Incili. He spent part of the morning conferring with his household master about the arrangements for the evening. Late in the morning he went to see his wife.

Lateefa Sultan was a great-granddaughter of Selim I. Her grandmother had been a half-sister to Suleiman the Magnificent She was a beautiful woman who had inherited the magnificent coloring of her great-grandmother, Firousi Kadin, and the gentle disposition of her grandmother, Guzel Sultan. Her long hair was silvery blond, and her eyes a turquoise blue. She had been married to Cicalazade Pasha as a girl, and their children were now grown and gone. She lived a quiet life surrounded by every comfort, secure in the friendship of her husband. One night weekly, each Friday, he visited her bed—but it was usually to sleep, for she did not particularly care for lovemaking. Since his vast harem satisfied that part of his nature and since she had dutifully borne his children, he respected her sensibilities. They were old and good friends, the vizier and his wife.

On this bright morning he sat with her in a small kiosk overlooking the water. He looked slightly haggard and was, she thought, beginning to show his age.

“In all the years we have been together I have never asked for a favor,” he said.

She smiled. “It must be a large favor you ask, since you remind me that you have never before requested one.”

“As an Ottoman princess you have never had to fear the advent of another wife, for I can have no wife but you—unless, of course, you give me your permission to take another. Until now I have never wanted to take another wife.”

“It is the new slave, Incili,” said Lateefa calmly. “Is it not enough that you possess her body?”

“No,” he replied quietly. “I want more, and I do not believe she will yield it to me until she is my wife.”

“Has she said so?”

“She is ignorant of our ways. I do not think it has occurred to her that I would want her as a wife. You would like her though, Lateefa.”

“So Hammid assures me,” she answered him dryly. Then, looking closely at him, she said, “I am not sure that I believe my own eyes, but they tell me you are in love. Can it be that after all these years the great Cicalazade Pasha is actually in love with a mere woman? Have you finally succumbed to that tender passion?”

“Do not mock me, Lateefa.” His voice was hard.

“Oh, my dearest Cica, I do not! Believe me I do not! It’s just that you have always prided yourself on the careful noninvolvement of your emotions. Now, however, I see a different man. Very well, my lord. Hammid tells me I will not have to play the forgotten Gulbehar to your beloved’s Kurhem, so I will give you my permission to take Incili as your second wife. When will the happy event take place?”

“Later today, before I take her to the Island of a Thousand Flowers.”

“So soon, my lord?”

“I would erase the past to which she clings so tenaciously. Once she is my wife she will begin to settle down.” He knelt and, taking Lateefa’s hands in his, kissed them tenderly. “Thank you, my gentle dove. You have always been the most understanding of women.”

Lateefa, watching him stride back across the garden, felt a wave of pity sweep over her. She had not met the woman they called Incili and yet she felt that her husband, in seeking to possess this woman, sought the moon. It was a desire he could never fulfill.

Y
OU are to become a Muslim, Incili,” said Hammid quietly.

Cat’s green eyes widened. “Never!” she answered.

“Do not be foolish, my beauty,” chided the eunuch. “It is but a formality. Six times a day you must kneel towards Mecca and pray. Who is to know what is in your heart but God?”

Cat thought a moment. His words made sense, and undoubtedly her great-grandmother had thought the same way, for she could not have been a sultan’s favorite wife and an avowed Christian too. Besides, survival and escape were all that mattered. “Very well,” she told Hammid. “I will do what you ask.”

Early in the afternoon she was given a special bath of purification and brought to a women’s mosque near the vizier’s palace, where she automatically answered the questions put to her by the elderly muezzin. By late afternoon she was officially a convert to Mohammed.

She was not, however, aware of the fact that as soon as she returned to Cicalazade’s palace the vizier signed papers making her his second wife. According to Muslim law, neither her knowledge nor her consent were necessary. Only the permission of her legal guardian was required. Hammid, who accepted a large sum of gold as her bridal gift, was that guardian.

When evening came, Cat waited impatiently for the litter that would carry her to the vizier’s caique. Her small excursion of the afternoon had whetted her appetite for freedom, and she had even managed to reconcile herself to the fact that, for the present, Cicalazade Pasha owned her. She had decided to cease her resistance to him. Her objective was to return to her husband in Italy, and in order to do this she must be able to speak with the Kira family in Constantinople. She could only gain that privilege if she were trusted, and she would only be trusted if she appeared to have accepted her fate.

Not even her loyal Susan must suspect her thoughts. It was a secret she would keep to herself until her plans were completed. She started guiltily at the sound of Hammid’s voice.

“You look so serious, Incili. What is it you think of, my beauty? Profound thoughts are not good for a woman.”

She laughed. “You have indeed caught me, Hammid, but I think you would approve the direction of my thoughts. I have been thinking that you are right. I will not say that it is easy for me, but I have decided to try to accept my fate. After all, ‘tis not so terrible a fate. Perhaps in time I shall be able to love my lord Cicalazade. Do you think it will happen, Hammid? The vizier does appear to harbor some small affection for me.”

Hammid could scarcely control his delight and excitement She could not have made her decision at a better time. “I can,” he said carefully, “if you will allow me, ease some of your anxiety. Will you trust me?”

“I will try,” she answered him, “but what is it you would do?”

“It is an ancient form of relaxation and suggestion called hypnosis. I will place you in a trance, and suggest certain things to you. When you awaken you will be more at ease with your situation. Do not fear this, however, for if you do not wish to obey my suggestions, the hypnosis will not work. Your own strong will is your best protection.”

“I trust you, Hammid,” she said. “Proceed.”

The eunuch took a gold chain with a small diamond tear from about his neck. “Watch the tear, Incili.” He swung it slowly before her eyes. “Is it not beautiful with its rainbow colors?” The voice was soothing and kindly. Cat felt a delicious warmth wash over her. “You must concentrate on the tear, my child, and soon you will begin to relax.” The pendant swung slowly, and Cat felt her body growing languorous, her eyes heavier and heavier as they slowly closed.

“Are you asleep, Incili?”

“Yes, Hammid.”

The eunuch took a pin from his robe and, lifting her foot, jabbed it quickly into her tender sole. She neither pulled away nor cried out, and he was satisfied that she was really in a hypnotic state. “Are you ready to submit to Cicalazade Pasha as your lord and master?”

“Yes, Hammid. I will try hard to please him.”

“I am happy with you, Incili, and I want you to be happy. You have only to follow the dictates of your body, my beauty. Let your lovely body overrule your quick intellect. Lord Cicalazade loves you deeply. You have affected him as no woman ever has. Will you not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he has pleasured you?”

For a moment she was silent, as if struggling with her emotions, then her soft voice said, “Yes, Hammid, I will yield myself to my lord Cica.”

The eunuch smiled, satisfied. “Thank you, my dear. I am content that you will both be very happy. One other thing, however. You must not mention to the vizier that we have had this conversation.”

“I will not”

“Very well, Incili. On the count of three you will awaken refreshed, and ready to spend a night pleasing your lord, One … two … three.”

Cat’s eyes opened. “Fascinating,” she said. “I slept, yet I heard you clearly, and I feel ever so much more at ease, Hammid. Thank you.”

The eunuch smiled again. “Are you ready to join the vizier now?”

“Yes.”

“And again tonight I compliment you on your costume.”

Cat smiled. She enjoyed wearing the luxurious clothing of a priveleged woman, and she took great pains with her appearance. Tonight she wore pale-pink silk shot with silver threads. Her gauze blouse was rose, her jacket edged in silver and bits of blue lapis. Her hip sash and slippers bore alternating stripes of silver and turquoise. She wore silver baubles on her arms and large drop earrings of carved turquoise.

Susan had done Cat’s hair in a new fashion. Drawn back and up, the honey-colored mass was woven into one large braid with turquoise ribbons and a string of tiny seed pearls. Across the beautiful face, Hammid fastened a veil of rose gauze.

She settled herself comfortably in the litter, almost bouncing with excitement in anticipation of her outing. The bearers moved quickly through the harem corridors, out across the gardens, and down to the private marble quay where the vizier’s caique awaited.

It was a graceful vessel, completely gilded, with a red lacquer design along the sides. The oars were alternately pale-blue enamel and silver, and the slaves who pulled those oars were all coal-black. Those who pulled on the silver oars wore blue satin pantaloons sashed in silver. Those who pulled on the pale-blue oars were garbed in blue-sashed silver cloth pantaloons. The awning of the vessel was stripped in red, gold, blue, and Silver, and held up by four gilded posts carved around with flowers and leaves. The silk curtains were scarlet and gold gauze, and the deck was polished rosewood. Beneath the awning was an enormous assortment of multicolored pillows, where Cicalazade Pasha awaited.