Bertrice Small - Adora

Prince Halil was equally magnificent in striped pants of white silk and silver brocade, a long, open matching coat with a white silk shirt. He wore a little cloth-of-silver turban with a peacock feather sprouting from a large tiger’s eye. He stood next to his mother, his hand upon the gold scimitar given him by his brother, Murad. The royal Ottoman couple were protectively surrounded by their slaves, the woman Iris, and a half a dozen prime, young black fighting eunuchs.

Because of his two royal passengers and also because of the pitiful state of the ship, Captain Hassan surrendered immediately to the obvious disappointment of the pirate crew who were spoiling for a fight. The pirate captain stood out easily among his men. He was a tall blond giant with a short, dark gold beard. He wore white pantaloons sashed in black silk. His bare chest was covered with a mat of tight gold curls. He was sun-bronzed, very muscular, and carried a beautiful gold scimitar in his hand. His feet were shod in knee-length boots of softest leather, with gold designs stamped on them.

At his order, Captain Hassan and his three officers were lined up and forced to their knees. At a nod from their captain, four pirates stepped forward, quickly strangled their unfortunate prisoners, and then threw the bodies overboard.

The ship was now deathly quiet. The blond giant turned slowly and looked over the assembled crew of The Prince Halil. “I am Alexander the Great,” his deep voice boomed. “I sail out of Phocaea. I offer you a fair choice. Join me, or die as your captain and his officers died.”

“We join you!” the Ottoman sailors shouted with one voice.

Alexander the Great now turned to Theadora and her son. Instantly the black eunuchs closed ranks and assumed a defensive position about the prince and his mother. “No!” she commanded them. They stepped aside, allowing the pirate captain a clear passage to her. He approached her and, for a moment he and Theadora stood silently, gauging one another. He had, she noted, eyes the color of a fine aquamarine-a clear blue-green.

Reaching out, he fingered the ruby necklace. Then he ripped it from her neck. All the while his blue eyes never left her violet eyes. Swiftly he tore the veil from her face, but she did not flinch. He sighed. Flinging the ruby necklace to the deck, he said, “One look at your beautiful face, my exquisite one, has rendered the jewels worthless. Is the rest of you as incomparably fair?” His hand went to the high neck of her brocade robe, and then it was she who spoke.

“I am Princess Theadora of Bursa, wife to Sultan Orkhan, sister to the emperor and empress of Byzantium. The child is the sultan’s and my son, Prince Halil. Unharmed, we should bring you a great fortune. But if you continue to make extravagant gestures-” She glanced first toward the necklace on the deck, and then down to his hand, which still held her gown, “you could easily end your days a poor man.”

His eyes swept admiringly over her and it seemed he was weighing her words. Then he laughed. “What a pity I value gold so highly, beauty. I should have enjoyed teaching you how to be a real woman.” He laughed again as the color flooded her face. “I must transfer you to my ship,” he continued, “but you and your party will be safe, my lady. We will be in Phocaea by nightfall, and then I will house you in my palace until your ransom is paid.” His big hand then moved from her neckline to cup her chin. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Keep yourself veiled, madame, or I may regret my practical nature. I already feel myself growing reckless.”

He turned abruptly away from her and began calling out orders. The Prince Halil was to be sailed into Phocaea by a skeleton crew where it would be repaired and join the pirate navy. Its crew and galley slaves would be dispersed among other ships once they arrived in Phocaea. Theadora and her party were helped aboard the pirate vessel and taken to the captain’s cabin, where they would remain until they reached their destination that night. Still exhausted from the previous night, Theadora made herself comfortable on the captain’s bed with Halil for company. Iris guarded the door while the princess and her son slept.

In the very late afternoon they reached the pirate city of Phocaea, and Alexander sent for a barge to transport his captives to his palace. It was located on the sea some two miles from the city. Sitting amid the velvet and silk cushions of the luxurious vessel with her captor Theadora learned that he was the younger son of a Greek nobleman and therefore forced to make his own way in life. Since his youth he had loved the sea and had turned to it for what was proving a most rewarding living.

His wife, a childhood sweetheart, was dead now. He had not remarried, but rather kept a harem of women in the Eastern way. He assured Theadora that she would not be cloistered. She would be free to roam the grounds of his estate, providing she gave him her word that she would not try to escape. Theadora gave it. Had she been alone she would not have acquiesced so easily, but she had Halil and Iris to consider.

As if he read her thoughts he inclined his head toward her son. “I am glad they are with you, beauty. You are too lovely to have to be caged.”

“Do you read minds also, pirate?”

“Sometimes.” Then in a lower voice. “You are too lovely to belong to an old man, beauty. If you had a lusty young man between your legs it might take the sadness from your eyes.”

She flushed crimson and said, in a soft, angry voice, “You forget yourself, pirate!”

The aquamarine eyes laughed at her outrage, and the man’s mouth mocked her. “My lineage is almost as good as yours, princess. Certainly the younger son of a Greek noble is equal to the younger daughter of a Greek usurper.”

Her hand flashed out, leaving its imprint on his cheek. But before she could hit him again he caught her by the wrist and held the hand in a firm grasp. Fortunately, Iris and Halil were too interested in the sights of the busy pirate harbor to witness the exchange between Theadora and Alexander. Slowly, the pirate captain turned Theadora’s hand palm upward and, holding her startled glance with his, placed a burning kiss in the center of the soft flesh.

“Madame,” his voice was dangerously low, “you have not yet been ransomed. Another man might fear to take what is the sultan’s, but I do not. And who would know if I did?”

The kiss had sent an almost painful ache through her. Now, white with shock, she whispered shakily, “You would not dare!”

He smiled his slow, mocking smile. “The idea is beginning to tempt me, beauty.”

The barge bumped against the side of the marble quay, and Alexander leapt out to help tie it to his pier. Well-trained slaves appeared to help Theadora and her party from the boat and led her to her quarters. The royal party had three spacious rooms with a private bath and a terraced garden, which faced west over the blue sea. A sweet-faced slavegirl showed Theadora a wardrobe filled with her clothes, brought from the ship. Halil and Iris found that their possessions had been brought as well.

“The master does not steal from his guests,” said the slavegirl primly, and Theadora bit back an urge to laugh.

They did not see Alexander again that day. A well-cooked meal accompanied by an excellent wine was served to them. After the ordeal of the storm they all sought their beds early.

Theadora awoke in the night to find Alexander standing over her bed. In the moonlight that poured through the windows she could see the desire on his face. She moved to turn her naked body from his sight and trembled when he said, “I know you are awake, beauty.”

“Go away,” she whispered fiercely, not daring to turn back to face him. “If anyone knew you were here, do you think the sultan would pay to get me back?”

“You forget that this is my house, beauty.”

“Even your house has its quota of spies,” she answered. “Go away!”

“If it will reassure you, I entered the room through a little-used interior passage-the existence of which is known by no one other than me. Besides, your son sleeps the sleep of the innocent and your slave drank a cup of wine tonight that had a sleeping draught in it. Even now she is snoring like a pig.”

“You dared?” She was incredulous.

“My very existence is a dare,” he replied. “Come, beauty, do not turn from me.” Reaching out, he turned her to face him. “Christos!” His voice was awed. “The body more than rivals the face!”

She shrank from him. “You can rape me,” she said quietly, “and though I cannot hope to overcome you I will later find a way to kill myself. I swear it, Alexander!”

“No, beauty, no,” he protested, drawing her into the circle of his arm. “Do not speak such foolishness to me.” His hand moved boldly, with assurance, making her tremble with a terrible mixture of fear and open desire. “I will not force you, for you are a guest in my house. But, ah, these sweet breasts will be very sad to go unloved this night.” Ever so gently he fondled the soft swell of flesh. The coral nipples sprang erect, and a little moan escaped her throat.

“Ah, beauty, you want it as much as I do! Why do you fight me?”

“Please!” She pushed his hands away. “You say you will not force me because I am a guest in your home. Your honor forbids it, does it not? Think then of my honor, Alexander. For though I am but a woman, I too have my honor. I am Orkhan’s wife, the mother of his son. I do not love my husband, and I will not deny that my body hungers for a young man’s touch. But as long as my lord lives, it will not be! You see, captain pirate, I too, have my honor to consider. Even if no one but us knew, I should feel that my honor was compromised. Can you understand that?”

He smiled ruefully. “I had heard that John Cantacuzene had an overeducated daughter. You reason like a Greek, beauty! Very well. I am bested for now, and I will leave you in peace this night. But I cannot promise to stay away forever. My baser instincts may overcome me.

“I will, however, exact a small vengeance before I go, for I do not think I shall quench the fire you have raised in me.”

And before she understood his intent he had clasped her tightly in his arms, their bodies touching from breast to thigh. They sprawled across the length of the bed, and she felt the softness of his chest hair tickling her bare breasts, the hardness of his manroot butting against her shaking thighs. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss, his tongue raping her mouth with a naked passion that left her nearly fainting. She wanted to yield to him. She wanted his hardness deep inside her!

Releasing her, he smiled and stood up. “May you and your honor enjoy your stay in my house, Theadora, wife of Orkhan,” he said mockingly.

Frozen with shock, she watched as he disappeared behind a wall-hanging. Only when she was sure he had left the room did she weep. He had reminded her of something she had managed to hide from herself for all these years. He had reminded her that she was a woman. A young woman. With the same hot desire running through her as any young woman had.

She had no outlet for her hunger. Her husband’s touch disgusted her, and the memory of Murad burned deep within her secret heart. She almost regretted sending Alexander away. His body had felt wonderful against hers, and she sensed that he would be a magnificent lover. Was he right? Indeed, who would know? Could she live with her guilt if she allowed the liaison? Theadora wept bitter tears, for she could see nothing but a long and loveless future stretching endlessly ahead of her.

The man who called himself Alexander the Great was not a reckless gallant, but a shrewd businessman. His main base, the city of Phocaea was located between the emirates of Karasi and Sarakhan, opposite the island of Lesbos. Though Phocaea had a ruler, it was Alexander and his pirates who brought prosperity to the city and who really controlled it. Alexander also had bases on the islands of Chios, Lemnos, and Imbros. He had spies and coast-watchers on the smaller islands as well, thereby effectively controlling the shipping lanes in the Aegean and the areas leading to the Straits of the Dardanelles, into the Bosporus, and beyond into the Black Sea.

Merchants whose vessels regularly traveled these waters paid him an annual tribute plus a percentage of the proceeds of each voyage. There was no chance of cheating Alexander-for they were required to stand for inspection prior to each voyage. Without the inspection there was no pendant issued for their top masts. And ships without Alexander’s color-coded pendants were considered fair game and usually had their entire cargos confiscated.