But he chose not to go home. The best he could hope for in Italy was to succeed to his father's title, conte, and inherit a moldering castle that grew more expensive to maintain as each year passed. He would be married off to the best dowry available and expected to father several sons. If he were lucky he would be able to afford one elegant mistress. If not, he would have to make do with the local peasant women.

As Cicalazade Pasha he owned a magnificent palace on the Bosporus, well staffed by an army of slaves. He was married to a granddaughter of Suleiman the Magnificent, and he had recently been appointed a grand vizier to Sultan Mohammed, his wife's cousin. He maintained a large harem which catered to his sophisticated and varied sexual tastes. Cica Pasha's hobby was beautiful women. All through the civilized world, his slave merchants were on the lookout for beautiful, exotic women to satisfy his appetite. Beauty and personality attracted him. Virginity mattered not. His harem was stocked with rare beauties, and fabled throughout the East.

Angela di LiCosa gave credit where credit was due. The Countess of Bothwell was an unusually beautiful woman, and Angela was quite sure that her rapacious brother would welcome the exquisite addition to his bed. There would be no problem in transporting her victim either, for a Turkish fleet lurked off the coast. Angela knew one of its captains.

He was called Khair-ad-Din after the famed admiral of the time of Suleiman the Magnificent. One of his duties was to carry messages between Cicalazade Pasha and his Italian family. Angela could get in touch with him easily. She would learn how soon he planned to sail home.

Several days later a peasant woman sat drinking wine with a sailor in a Neapolitan waterfront cafe. "You tell Khair-ad-Din that I don't care how dangerous he thinks it is! I must meet with him personally. There is a small, crescent-shaped beach two miles to the southeast of Amalfi. I will be there tomorrow night an hour after sunset. The signal will be two lanterns burning on the beach." The woman got up and hobbled out. The sailor finished his mug. Cursing softly under his breath, he slapped some coins down on the table and left the cafe, The following night a boat rowed by six sweating black slaves slid onto the sand of that beach. An enormous man dressed in bright-red pantaloons and a red-and-black-striped shirt, his large waist wrapped with a gold cloth sash from which protruded both a jeweled dagger and a scimitar, heaved himself out and walked up onto the beach. He had small feet for such a large man, and they wore elegant gold leather boots with red tassels.

A heavily masked and cloaked woman stepped from the shadows. "I am the Contessa di LiCosa," she said.

"Take off the mask so I may see with whom I speak," said Khair-ad-Din gruffly, and when she did he nodded. "You look nothing like your brother. Well, little girl, what can I do for you?"

"I want you to take a gift to my brother.5*

"You got me off my ship to tell me you want me to carry some damned trinket to my lord Cicalazade? Women! Pah!"

"This is a very special gift, captain. It is a woman for my brother's harem. She is a prize beyond compare, a noblewoman of beauty, breeding, and charm. Bring her safely to my brother. I will reward you in gold, and I am sure you will gain great favor with my brother."

"Who is this woman, contessa?"

"Her identity is not your concern, but her villa is on the other side of this point. You probably know the house well, for it once belonged to Abdul Mehmet, the merchant. In a few days this woman's husband will be called away. If you attack the house at dawn in his absence you will meet no resistance. There are only six houseservants, five of whom are women. I assume she also has a body servant. I don't care what happens to the servants, but treat this woman gently. I want her delivered safely to my brother."

Khair-ad-Din looked sharply at Angela di LiCosa. "Why do you do this, signora la contessa? It is not like you to seek slaves for your brother. Is this a plot between you and the woman's husband, to rid him of her?"

Angela's face reflected hate so virulent that Khair-ad-Din stepped back in surprise. "I hate them both," she hissed. "‘Tis my vengeance on them. He will die a thousand times knowing that she is a slave, and that he is powerless to do anything about it!"

"What if the woman dies?"

"Not her," laughed the Contessa di LiCosa cruelly. "She will survive, hoping to return to her beloved Francisco… but that will never happen!"

Khair-ad-Din considered a moment. Even if the woman were a gift from Cicalazade Pasha's sister, he too would gain a certain measure of favor by conveying her safely to her new master. "How will I know when it is safe to kidnap the woman?"

"Watch the skies off this beach in the hours before and after midnight for the next few nights. A red rocket will be the signal that you may attack the following dawn." She held out a bag to him. "A small token of my gratitude, captain."

Feeling the weight of the bag, he smiled broadly. "Signora la contessa, it is a pleasure to do business with you. Is there any other message you wish to send your brother?"

She handed him a sealed packet and, without another word, turned and disappeared back into the shadows. Khair-ad-Din made a small grimace and, turning, walked back down the beach to his boat. She was a cruel one, was the Contessa di LiCosa. He wondered what her poor victim had done.

As his boat bobbed back over the waves to his ship, he thought that perhaps he should clear out the cabin next to bis. It was a decent size and could be made comfortable for a woman and her servant. He had decided that he would instruct his men to bring along the lady's woman to serve her. It had been his experience in dealing with women captives that those who had a friend did better than those who were all alone. If this poor woman did not reach the grand vizier in good condition, then he would be blamed.

Safely back aboard his ship, he called his officers together and told them of the planned raid on the Villa del Pesce d'Oro. "Other than the noblewoman and her servant, take no captives. We're not a stinking slave carrier. Treat them gently, or by Allah, I’ll castrate the lot of you! No rape. The woman is for Cicalazade's pleasure and his pleasure only."

"What about the servantgirl?" asked the first officer.

"Well… perhaps when we're safely under sail. But waste no time at the villa."

"You can't expect the men to pass up a group of young girls, captain. They rarely get ashore on this type of duty."

"All right, all right," chuckled Khair-ad-Din indulgently. "Let the men who go with you have the servant girls, but bring me the lady and her personal servant untouched."

"About two dozen men should do it," said the first officer. "Now all we need do is sit and wait for the next few days."

Chapter 48

CAT sat crosslegged in the center of a very tumbled bed watching her husband dress. She was naked and rosy from their recent lovemaking, and her pretty mouth pouted. "Why can't I come wi ye, Francis?"

"Because, my beautiful bride," he smiled at her, " 'tis nae a social call I am making. The Duke of Avellino wants us to clean out the bandits that have recently been infesting his district."

"I've gone on border raids wi ye," she protested.

"Aye," he smiled again, his eyes misting at the memory. "Ye were the most fetching borderer I ever knew wi yer sweet bouncing breasts, and yer long legs in their green hose. Damn, Cat! I miss it, and I miss our Hermitage, but this is Italy, my darling. If ye rode wi me I would nae be taken seriously as a mercenary, and despite the fact ye are a rich woman, I feel better earning my living wi our men. We should nae be gone more than two weeks. Why don't ye write to Jemmie, and see if he can arrange to send the children? I think 'tis time our bairns met their father."

She smiled teasingly at him. "Will ye miss me, Bothwell?" And she stood up, stretched, and slunk provocatively across the room.

He gently smacked her pretty bottom. "Dinna wiggle yerself at me, wench!’Tis hard enough to have to leave ye after less than two months." He bent bis head and found her eager mouth. "Oh, Cat! Sweet Cat!" he murmured between hungry kisses. Then, "Damn! Ye've done it again! I never knew a woman who could rouse me so!"

She laughed low and wriggled out of his grasp. "Go play at war, my randy lord!"

He looked at her ruefully. "Put some clothes on, nymph, and bid me and our men a proper goodbye."

She arrived in the foyer of the villa in time to hear Conall say, "I still think we should leave some men here to guard the villa."

"Guard us from what?" demanded Cat "My God, I never knew such a peaceful place!"

"I don't know," said Bothwell thoughtfully. "Conall could be right There are always pirates lurking off the coast."

"There is nothing of value here to attract pirates. Dinna be foolish. Ye need every man ye've got."

The two men looked at each other and shrugged. Cat was right They joined their men, who were mounted and waiting. Conall climbed into his saddle and moved to the front of the group, but Bothwell stood for a moment facing his wife, his elegant hands on her shoulders. "I wish ye could come wi me, my darling," he said, "but it should nae take us long to wipe out the nest of mangy beggars that disturbs Avellino's peace. Thank ye for gieing me yer Glenkirk men for my own. Christ! To be useful again!" He crushed her to him. "I love ye, Catriona Stewart-Hepburn!" And he kissed her passionately, his mouth bruising hers with a sweetness that sent desire racing through her. Her lips were petal-soft, and warm beneath his. He began to wish the Duke of Avellino's bandits safe in hell.

"Are ye for Avellino, or are ye for bed, my lord earl?" demanded Conall's scathing voice.

Bothwell reluctantly moved away from his wife. "If that man were nae the best captain in Christendom I would cheerfully strangle him," he said through gritted teeth as he mounted his own stallion.

Cat laughed softly. Putting a hand on her husband's leg, she smiled up at him. "I love ye, Francis. Come home safe to me." She turned to Conall. "Take care of him. Always be at his back."

"Aye! Aye!" said the captain impatiently.

Then they were off down the driveway, the dust swirling around and behind them. She stood before the villa until they had all disappeared. Then, running inside, she called to Paolo.

u Sì, signora la contessa?"

"What engagements do we have planned for the week?"

"Only a dinner party on Saturday evening at the Conte di LiCosa's villa."

She sighed with relief. "Cancel it, Paolo. With Lord Bothwell away, I have the perfect excuse to avoid that wretched woman."

Paolo smiled. He liked the Contessa di LiCosa no more than his mistress did. She was an evil woman. The following day he did as his mistress had ordered, and sent word to the di LiCosa villa that the Countess of Bothwell could not attend the fete, due to her husband's absence.

Angela di LiCosa laughed happily. The timing was unbelievable, and her own alibi was now unchallengeable. It would be so easy to slip away from her party to signal Khair-ad-Din. Better yet, she could send her servant to make the signal. A roomful of people would attest to her constant presence! And as the Villa del Pesce d'Oro's gardeners would not be at work on Sunday, the pirates' raid would go unnoticed for a full day. By that time the Countess of Bothwell would be well on her way to Cicalazade's harem. Angela's laughter reverberated wildly through the house. Hearing it, the servants crossed themselves, and murmured among themselves. "When l’Angela del Diavolo laughs, beware!"

And that evening at her fete the Contessa di LiCosa was more charming, more delightful than ever before. The party was such a success that it did not end until close to dawn, when the last of the guests stumbled, happily drunk, to their beds.

Across the misty hills at the Villa del Pesce d'Oro a scream tore through the clear dawn. Cat sat straight up in bed, wide awake, listening. Hearing another shriek and the sound of running feet, she leaped from her bed and ran to the window. The sight before her momentarily froze her with terror.

The garden was swarming with men in baggy pantaloons, and it did not take more than a second to realize that they were under attack by Turkish pirates. Maria, the cook, and her two little kitchen maids lay upon the ground being raped, surrounded by men who were waiting their turns. The two housemaids were fleeing from some four or five men across the garden. Paolo lay in the kitchen garden near a basket of freshly cut herbs, his head bashed to a bloody pulp.