Chapter 23

Murad wasted no time beginning his humiliation. Alex was stripped naked and his hands were pulled back behind him and tied to a metal loop attached to the wall in the brig.

A heavy ball and chain was locked onto one ankle by a sliding pin. The bastard knew he’d sink quickly if he tried to jump overboard with that still attached.

A mugful of laudanum was forced down his throat. He tried to retch it back up, but the more he did, the more they poured down his throat. He decided it was best to stop, as he was probably drinking more than he was vomiting.

He wanted to curl up and die, his pride ripped from him as quickly as his clothes. He knew what was coming—he’d endured it before—but he wasn’t sure he could endure it again. If he got a chance, ball and chain or not, he was going over the side.

But not until he learned of Hestia’s fate.

The unknown was about to push him over the edge. Had Murad let her go as he’d promised?

The laudanum began to work. He was tired from over twenty-four hours of no sleep. The pain of his bonds fell away, his body relaxed, and his knees began to give way. He slumped forward to his knees, his arms stretched out behind him to the point he thought his shoulders might pop, but still no pain.

That’s why he used to crave the opium pipe or liquid. He could lose himself in a world where Murad and evil did not exist. But he also lost touch with reality, and the more he took, the more he wanted. To the point where he would do anything Murad asked of him simply to get his hands on more opium.

It wasn’t until after he’d escaped and then been rescued by Costa that Alex had understood what Murad had done in order to control him.

He’d been captured by Murad at the end of the Turkish wars in 1807. He and Stephen had enlisted to anger their fathers. Plus, they wanted an adventure. Neither of them understood how horrendously that decision would affect them.

He’d stupidly gone off with a local woman for sex and he’d been jumped by men and sold to Murad.

He’d lived on opium for the two years of his captivity. His introduction to opium had been at Murad’s hands but it had been insidious. Murad had tricked Alex into thinking he was organizing a safe ransom swap for him. Murad had treated him as if he were a visitor rather than a captive.

Alex had been given a lovely room, fed well, given a woman if he wanted one, and of course introduced to the wonders of opium.

But what Murad was really doing was keeping Alex oblivious to the fact there would be no ransom swap and all he was doing was turning Alex into a man who craved opium above all else. Above food, drink, sleep, sex, and self-respect.

As soon as he could not live without the opium, Murad showed his true colors.

That was seven long years ago and he would not be his plaything again. Not this time. He’d rather die.

Hestia was hauled from her feet and dragged by her hair along the deck to the passageway. She tried to count the men she saw and find ways to slip quickly over the side of the ship if she had a chance.

Most important, she wished she knew where Alex was being held. Her one hope was that Murad had no idea that she knew Alex was on board. She wanted to make the pirate believe she thought she was alone and at his mercy. Ironically, she told herself, You are all alone. Alex is a prisoner.

A door off the corridor opened and she was pushed into the room. She landed on her hands and knees.

“I see you’re already learning the correct position you should be in to greet me.”

She quickly rose to her feet, her legs shaking beneath her. She decided to remain silent. There was no point aggravating him unnecessarily.

Murad came to stand before her and she wondered if she would be treated as she had been four years ago. It would be a bit harder to rip her dress and corset.

“You are even more beautiful than I remember. Alexander always did have exquisite taste in women.” He stroked a finger over her lips, and she fought the urge not to bite it off. “I’m sure he would not offer to share you as he did with Tulay. But then again a few weeks of opium and I can make him do anything I want. I could make him give me permission to behead you and he would not blink an eye.”

She tried not to give in to her fear by biting her inner cheek so as to not make a sound. From her conversation with David, she understood the power of opium and would refuse to take it.

“However, a woman of your beauty…it would be a shame to separate your head from such a voluptuous body. A body that will bring me great pleasure and comfort on our journey home to Bodrum.”

Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing and feeling your fear.

Instead she focused on the cabin. The far side of the room held a round bunk bed with a voluminous transparent silk canopy overhead. An opium pipe lay on a small ottoman by the bed, and a negligee was draped across the end of the bed.

“So brave. We shall see how brave you are with me on top of you.”

With that Murad stepped back and clapped his hands. A man entered and Murad barked orders at him before he scurried off.

“Take off your clothes.”

She stood up taller. Hestia had been expecting this command, but even so…

“If you don’t, I shall bring in one of my men and get him to do it for you. I’m sure he will enjoy having his dirty hands over such lovely flesh.”

Time. She needed time. Alex could already be trying to escape, and the Angelica might sail back. Surely Alex had a plan. Why else would he just go quietly with his enemy?

“I’m waiting.”

She wanted to smash her fist in his ugly mug, but knew she’d pay for that. If she had any chance of escape she had to have her wits about her and be free of any binding. Perhaps she should play this differently than she had as a sixteen-year-old girl.

She let the fear that she’d been concealing invade her features like removing her mask at a masquerade ball. She let her hands shake as she turned her back to Murad. “I need help with the hooks,” she stammered.

Let him think she was petrified and he might underestimate her.

She whimpered as he began to peel off her clothes. He didn’t stop until she cowered before him fully naked. He also did not miss any opportunity to touch her in the most vulgar of ways. She had no problem conjuring the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

To her surprise he moved to the end of the round bed and picked up a silk garment. He handed it to her.

“Before you put it on I’ll send you a basin of warm water to wash. And a nice cup of tea. I suggest you drink it. It will make you relax.”

With that he left the room. She raced to the door and peered through the keyhole. A man stood guard outside.

She suddenly jumped back as the handle began to turn and the door reopened. It wasn’t Murad, though. To her surprise two women entered. One carried a basin and washbowl. Hestia could smell the jasmine-scented soap from where she stood like a stone statue in the far corner of the cabin. Another woman entered behind her carrying a tray of food and a mug of something hot, for she could see the steam rising.

The women closed the door on the salivating guard even though Hestia had covered herself with her discarded dress the moment Murad had left the room.

“You will wash and dress in the garment my master gave you.”

“If I don’t?”

The two women looked at each other and shivered. The action spoke more than words. “He will beat you or have one of the guards beat you—or worse.”

Her imagination took flight regarding what could be worse than a beating.

The younger woman approached and gently pulled the dress from her hands. The other woman handed her the mug and said, “Drink this. It will not be so awful if you drink this.” Her look of pity almost made Hestia weep. It told her that these women were slaves too. They understood what was to come. She would be silly to ignore their advice, but she needed her wits about her to escape.

She took the mug and sniffed. It smelled of tea, but as she tasted it, it was sweet as if full of sugar.

Hestia took a sip. It was sickly sweet, but was not unpleasant.

“The opium will help you relax. His attentions will hurt less if you are relaxed.”

She almost dropped the mug. This was opium. She had been forced to swallow it when David made her drink. From what David had said, it was evil and men would do almost anything to get more of it, including Alex.

She pretended to drink while the woman washed her body from head to toe. Of all the obscenities she was about to endure, this was the least offensive.

Soon she stood dressed in a translucent red silk shift. It left nothing to the imagination. She had drunk a small amount of the tea and she did feel more relaxed. She knew not to drink any more.

The women positioned her on the bed and left her sitting holding her tea among the huge pillows. They said nothing to her as they left—there was nothing to say. The strong conquered the weak. Every woman knew that lesson well.

As soon as the door closed she raced to the cabin porthole and poured the rest of the tea out. There were several portholes that allowed light to flood the room, but none of them were big enough for her to climb out.

She paced the room trying to find some solution to her dilemma. If only she could fashion a weapon of some kind. But if she killed Murad, then what? There was only one guard between her and the railings. Could she kill or disable two men?

An image of Murad’s cruel face floated into view, and as if God had sent her an angel to help her, she had an idea. A risky one, but that was all she had to cling to. She knew how she was going to escape Murad. How she’d get past the guard would have to wait. One step at a time, Hestia. One step at a time.

Alex’s eyes would not stay open, but he didn’t care. He was in dreamland and nothing could hurt him.

They had poured more opium down his throat at regular intervals, and he welcomed it. Now all he saw and heard was Hestia. Her lovely smile and joyous laugh. He would hold on to her memory until he could escape or die trying.

Suddenly the door to the brig opened and one of the men entered. Alex’s wrists, still tightly bound, were untied from the metal loop and he was dragged through the ship. The metal ball bounced and smashed into his ankle as they went, but thanks to the laudanum he felt no pain. His body was numb to everything surrounding him, and he welcomed the oblivion.

He could hear men talking, making fun of him in Turkish, but he didn’t care. They all knew as well as he did where he was being taken and what Murad would do to him. His men didn’t seem to mind that their leader enjoyed both men and women.

Finally he was shoved into a cabin that smelled of jasmine, and for a moment the light blinded him. He lay on the floor not caring where he was or what was about to happen until a small cry, someone calling his name, made his heart almost stop—Hestia.

No, he was dreaming. He’d been dreaming about her so he thought she was here. But when a small, soft hand stroked his face and tears fell onto his heated skin, his worst nightmare surfaced through the euphoria of the opium.

She was here, which meant she was a captive of Murad.

“Alex, oh, my love, what have they done to you?”

“Has he hurt you?” A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins as he tried to focus. “Can you untie my hands?”

Hestia immediately went to his bindings.

“I’m trying, but the knots are too tight. I need something sharp to cut them with.” She started crying harder as she fumbled more with his bindings.

“Hestia, stop. It’s all right. Don’t cry.”

Hestia flopped back on her bottom beside him sobbing. He wished he could enfold her in his arms and tell her it would all be fine, but he couldn’t do either.

“Listen, sweetheart. Murad is going to return soon. I don’t want to scare you, but he will,” he said, struggling to say the words. “He will hurt you, or hurt me. He will do things to us. You have to promise me you’ll stay strong. We will survive this and I will save you.”

She wiped her tears with her hands and nodded. “I have an idea too. I feel stronger with you here.”

“No. Don’t try to beat Murad. He’s stronger than you. Please…”

But Hestia had already moved back to the bed and she lay upon it as if in a drunken—no not drunken, drugged state. He didn’t have time to analyze her behavior because the door opened and the devil himself entered, closing the door behind him with a soft nick.

Murad walked to stand over Alex as he lay naked and helpless on the floor. “My favorite boy.” He pointed to where Hestia lay on the bed. “I think you are acquainted with my new toy. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Hestia had rolled onto her back and arched her back. Her breasts were visible through the silk and she was almost purring.

God, Alex hoped she knew what she was doing, but he doubted it. She had no idea what sort of monster Murad was.

How could she? She was an innocent in a world full of evil.

Murad used his foot to push Alex onto his back. The Turkish pirate who called himself a sultan. Only a member of the house of Osman could take the title of sultan. Murad was no more of Turkish royal birth than the guard standing outside this door.

“I’m going to have fun with the woman behind me. The woman you stole from me four years ago. Am I not a patient man to have waited so long?”

Alex tried to clear the fog in his brain. “Not patient, merely stupid. You touch her and you are dead.”

The pirate tipped his head back and roared with laughter. “If anyone is going to be killed it’s you. However, I thought you might like to see how your woman screams my name before I kill you.”

He bent down and cupped Alex’s manhood. “Or perhaps I’ll merely geld you like a stallion past his prime and keep you around for my amusement.”

Rage caused Alex’s fists to clench and he lashed out with his foot, the heavy ball striking Murad’s thigh, and he fell back writhing in agony.

He saw a flash of red silk and Hestia was upon Murad. The drugs made Alex too slow to try and protect her. To his horror a spray of warm red blood, this time, covered the leg that had the chain attached. He tried to sit up, fear making it hard to breathe.

He would never forget for the rest of his life the sight he saw when he finally got to his knees.

Hestia stood beside Murad, who was slumped sideways on the floor, a pool of blood forming under his head. Her hands were by her side, a jeweled dagger gripped in one hand dripping blood, her chest heaving, her eyes hard like a soulless corpse.

“No one threatens the man I love, the man I want to be the father of my children.”

She’d slit Murad’s throat with a dagger from his turban. How ironic that a man pretending to be something he wasn’t should be killed because he wanted to play the part.

He should feel something. The man who’d enslaved and used him for almost two years was dead. But all he could think of was that he’d brought this monster into Hestia’s life, and they still weren’t out of danger.

Murad’s men were controllable when they knew their leader lived, but with him dead the spoils were up for grabs, and Hestia was a prime treasure. Every man on this ship would want her—to rape and then to sell.

“That’s why you played at being drugged.”

“I tipped my mug out of the porthole. The ladies that brought it to me thought I’d be so frightened of what Murad would do to me that I’d drink it. They didn’t stay to ensure I did.”

She was cutting his bindings as she talked.

Pain cascaded up his arms as the ties came loose and he tried to move his arms. That was a good sign. He could function if he tried. He had to beat the opium coursing through his veins if he was to save Hestia.

Still dazed he watched with eyes not focusing while she used the dagger to ease out the pin holding the ball and chain on his foot.

“I have to get this off you or we have no chance of escaping. There is one guard outside, and then if we run fast we should make the railings to dive overboard.”

She thought she had it all worked out. Alex knew he could not run. He could barely walk. And to dive from this height, well, it might work, but they could also break an arm, leg, or worst case, neck. In his condition, most likely his neck.

Hestia could make it, though. Especially if he stayed and made sure she made it. They could try to stay in here until the Angelica came into view. It would be early evening before she’d make her presence known. If he could start a fire on the boat, Jacob would see it and come for them.

Hestia was sitting on the floor leaning against the bed. Her arms were out in front of her and she was looking at the blood on her hands. Her whole body shook.

He crawled over to her and pulled her into his arms. He breathed in her scent, the smell comforting. “It will be all right, you’ll see.” They sat holding each other for a while. “Sweetheart, I can barely move. Can you check to see the door’s locked?”

Hestia hugged him tightly, then rose and did as he asked. Then she walked to the washbasin and rinsed the blood off her hands.

“We need to find you some clothes,” she said, and searched the room, coming up empty.

“This is only Murad’s playroom, not his bedchamber. You’ll have to take the clothes off him.”

A look of horror crossed her features before she finally nodded.

“I wish you’d thought of that before I washed my hands.”

He helped her as much as he could. They only removed his caftan, as it would cover Alex, although it would be a bit short.

“I’ll need his boots too. And his turban.”

“The turban is covered in blood.”

Damn. “I’ll only wear it when we make our escape and leave the room.”

He hated the idea of walking from this room with Hestia only dressed in the transparent silk, but Murad’s men would look closer if she were fully dressed, and it would be easier for her to swim virtually naked.

Survive. That’s all he needed to do. Help Hestia survive, and then this nightmare would be over.

They moved Murad’s body behind a privacy screen and threw a bed covering over the blood in case a servant entered.

Hestia helped him to the bed and poured him some wine from a jug.

“How long before someone comes to check on him?” Hestia asked.

“We have a few hours. Murad doesn’t like to be disturbed in his play.” He lay down and closed his eyes. Feeling himself drift off again he said, “Talk to me, I have to stay awake. I really should be walking so the drugs in my system can wear off faster. I’m no good to you like this.”

She placed a kiss on his cheek and gave a sultry smile. “The cabin is pretty small for walking about, but what about another form of exercise? It might stop the guard from wondering why it’s so quiet in here too.”

He smiled at her. “How much of the drug did you drink?”

“Enough to feel euphoric at the fact Murad is dead and to want to forget I just killed a man by losing myself in pleasure with you. Plus, won’t the guard be suspicious if it’s too quiet in here?”

He had never loved a woman more. He studied her face. She was the only woman he had ever loved, and with blinding clarity he understood why. Her eyes could look straight through his sins and still see the good in him. She loved him for better or for worse. She understood he was not perfect and she didn’t care.

He took her face between his hands and kissed her with a passion that saw his drugged body roar to life. He wanted her with a desire that would last him the rest of time. He broke the kiss.

“Clever girl. I like this plan. You are right; if it is too quiet in here, the guard will take notice.”

She sat up and kissed his face. “It’s not where I’d choose to make love with you, but….”

“We do need to keep the guards away until near dusk. The Angelica will be nearer. If I can send Jacob a signal he’ll come for us.”

“Then please make me forget this horror.”

Alex needed no further encouragement. Blood pounding, he rolled them over and kissed the streak of tears from her face. Her hands slipped over his shoulder to caress his bare back with electrifying effect. As her hands danced distractedly across his back, he carefully and slowly lifted the silk off her body, baring her breasts. She arched and moaned as his mouth covered her nipple, tugging as it hardened.

This was his heaven—touching her, tasting her—loving her. Hestia’s pale, tender skin was faintly salty, delicious against his tongue. As he trailed kisses down her belly her moans grew and he wondered if it was for the guard’s benefit or if she was merely losing herself in him. Her legs separated under his hand, revealing her most secret female places so he could worship her with tongue and mouth.

She cried out at the intimate kiss, her hips thrusting urgently and her fingers tangling in his hair with sharply erotic power. “Oh yes. Yes…”

He nibbled on her hardened nub and her hips lifted off the bed. Her passion enflamed him, enslaved him more than Murad’s opium ever could. He wanted to make this last, give her an eternity of pleasure in case this was the last time he’d be able to make love to her. After a culmination that went on and on and on, she groaned, “More. I need you inside me or I shall die.”

Panting, he rested his head on her belly, inhaling the intoxicating scents of her sex. Her hands became a caress, stroking back his hair.

“Are you all right?” she softly asked.

“I’m here with you, making love to you, and Murad’s dead. I’m more than all right.” He kissed his way back up her body.

When she recovered her breath, she murmured in his ear so the guard could not hear. “Come to me now, Alex.” She tugged at his hair. “Make me forget everything but you.”

He wanted her so much. But part of him didn’t feel like he deserved her. She was too pure at heart for him.

He threw her onto her stomach, and using his arm pulled her to her knees.

Hestia gave a few screams and cries for the guard’s benefit. It seemed to work, as they were not being disturbed.

He came up behind her, his large hands covering hers as he placed them on the pole holding the canopy. His hard naked chest pressed into her back, branding her with his touch, her buttocks cradled against his flat belly. She felt the large throbbing hardness of his arousal slip between her thighs and she sighed.

“You want me, you shall have me,” he cried in his best Turkish as he used his powerful thighs to push her legs together around his pulsating thickness protruding through her curls at the juncture of her thighs. To her immense disappointment he withdrew.

“Oh my!” she gasped, desire flaming when his fingers delved deep between her legs. She looked over her shoulder and lust shimmered through her as she soaked in the sight of him anointing his hardness with her pearly fluid.

He came up behind her again and replaced her hands on the pole. She shivered as his silken length glided between her swollen flesh, his powerful thighs clamped her legs together, around him.

He groaned. She arched back against his groin. He continued to slide between her thighs.

Her heart was pounding.

“God, I want you.” He sighed against her neck as he feathered kisses against her heated skin. “I’m so close, I can’t bear it. I long to be inside you.”

“Hurry, take me now.” She could feel the molten heat building inside her. “Please,” she groaned, lifting one hand from the pole to reach behind her to grip his hip.

He was panting hard. “No, no!” he whispered. “I’m selfish, but I want you so much, please forgive me.”

It was pure feminine instinct that allowed her to help him. She reached down and caressed him, her hand tightly holding his member, throbbing and rigid and wet with her juices, against her passage as he plunged between her shaking legs.

“You’re mine.” His breath was harsh at her ear.

She stroked him, wholly focused on pleasuring him. “Don’t stop,” he gasped helplessly. His voice sent tingles rushing through her limbs, along nerve endings, flooding her body with sensations, her senses teetering on the edge of a sensual precipice. She was soaring high above the clouds once more, her eyes tightly shut as he brought her to the peak of the wave, pure delight sweeping through her, carrying her up and away, then slowly receding, leaving her floating.

Then just when she thought she’d float away, she felt his hard length enter her from behind.

He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want gentleness. She wanted him, hard and fast, and that is what he gave. All of himself.

He thrust harder, bending her forward slightly so he could go deeper. Her body went up in flames, every nerve ending screaming for release.

Together they spiraled higher and higher until she climaxed, and to her joy she carried him with her into a stunning plateau of ecstasy. He screamed out her name over and over in Turkish and she clung to the pole wishing they could do this forever.

Finally, she slumped back against him when her legs could not keep her upright on her knees.

Time vanished, leaving only sensation and the joy of being held in his arms.

“I feel alive again. I’m just getting warmed up,” he whispered as he laid her down and rolled her under him, reentering her in a slow penetration that made her toes curl. Moving slowly, their frantic coupling of before slowed to a tender, tidal rhythm where they matched each other breath for breath, pulse for pulse. Near exhaustion, she raised her head for a last kiss, wanting to inhale his essence into herself.

“I might be yours, but you are mine, and I’ll never let you go again,” she breathed against his lips as she curved her hips upward and clasped him internally with voluptuous power.

He shattered in a final convulsion, where his seed flooded into her. She hoped it would take root. She wasn’t naïve. She knew they still were not safe, that he wasn’t in any condition to flee, and that anything could happen to either one of them.