be failing in his duty if he did what the beauty asked, but he could not quite rid himself of a niggling feeling of guilt as he escorted the women to the harbour.
His ship was waiting to take them to Constantinople—or Istanbul as it was known throughout the Ottoman Empire. Once the women were safely locked in his cabin he would return and pay the slave master—and he would purchase the young boy Yuri for himself if it were permitted. He would do his duty and forget his personal doubts.
He had been given a commission, which he had fulfilled to the best of his ability. If the Caliph’s son did not find the beauty desirable the Caliph might indeed listen to the women’s pleas to be ransomed. He eased his conscience by reflecting that if they had been bought by the tribal chief who had tried to bid against him, their fate would be much worse than it was at present. The older one would have been beaten and, if she continued to resist, might have died a cruel death; the beauty might have preferred death to her likely fate at that devil’s hands. They were fortunate that he had been at the auction that day, though as yet they might not realise how close to disaster they had come.
Harriet looked about her as they were escorted through the port. It was teaming with people, dogs, donkeys and carts. All kinds of merchandise was being sold or loaded on to ships, and there was much confusion. She considered whether or not it would be possible to break away from the man who had bought them and disappear into the crowds. If he should be distracted for a moment, she might take the chance—surely anything would be better than simply allowing this man to make them slaves?
‘Do not even think of escape.’ A hand of iron gripped Harriet’s wrist. She jumped, feeling as if something seared her skin, and lifted her eyes to his. The look he gave her was angry, terrifying, because she felt he read her mind. ‘You are the Caliph’s property. He may have little use for you, lady, but I should pursue you both and take her back. You, I might leave to your fate. Think carefully what that means—you would not last long if I were not here to guard you in this place.’
‘What do you mean?’ She felt chilled as she saw the warning in his eyes.
‘There are men here who would think nothing of abusing you. They would fight over you like a pack of dogs, snarling and quarrelling to decide who had you next. You would be used until your spirit was broken and you died of some foul disease if you did not starve to death. Is that what you want—for yourself or your companion?’
‘No …’ Harriet shivered—there was something about him that reminded her of a dream that had frightened her the night before she left England. In the dream she looked into the face of a man and been very afraid, but she had not been able to recall the rest of the dream when she woke. ‘I want both of us to be free. We are English gentlewomen from good families. How could you think it right to buy us as if we were beasts of burden? You had no right to offer all that money. It was ridiculous.’
‘I was making a statement. I hoped none would bid against me. You were fortunate that my purse is deep.’
‘Fortunate?’ Harriet glared at him. ‘I do not consider myself fortunate to be sold as a slave.’
‘Had I not been there you would still have been sold, probably separately—and to a man who would have slit your throat if you defied him.’
‘No …’ Harriet felt chilled. ‘Can you not see that it is wrong to make a free woman a slave?’
‘I am not prepared to debate these things with you.’ His expression was forbidding. ‘You are not in England now. You must adapt to a different culture.’
‘Why? You can buy another woman for your harem. Why will you not let us be ransomed? I promise I will pay twice what you paid.’
‘It is not possible. I was commissioned to buy an English woman of beauty and intelligence. The fair one is a rare beauty. I am not at liberty to free you.’
‘No one would know.’
‘I should know. It is a matter of honour with me.’
‘What honour is there in making slaves of two women?’
A little pulse flicked in his throat, as if she had touched a nerve deep within him. ‘You will have comfort and a measure of freedom in the palace if you behave. Do not ask for more. You belong to the Caliph and I shall never let you escape. Yet in the harem you will be treated kindly enough if you behave in a sensible manner.’
Harriet raised her head proudly. ‘You could have let us be ransomed. If you had compassion or decency, you would sell us to our families and make a profit for yourself. You are nothing but a barbarian and have no honour—’
‘Be careful, lady. I have only so much patience, and you walk a fine line. If I wished, I could punish you.’
Harriet was silenced. She knew that she had risked punishment several times already. She had made the slave master fear her, but curses and insults would not sway this man. There was something harsh and commanding about him, something that made chills run down her spine—and yet when she looked into his eyes she almost believed that she could see compassion in their depths.
No, she must not allow herself to weaken. There was nothing soft or decent about this man. He was a savage, a barbarian, and she despised him and all his kind.
The cabin in which they had been housed was not uncomfortable. Harriet thought it might belong to the master of the ship. She was not sure, but by the way they had been greeted when they came on board ship she believed that the man with the blue eyes might own the vessel.
The suspicion made her feel angry and frustrated. Why could he not have taken them to England? If he was his own master, he could have set her and Marguerite free on payment of a generous ransom. She would willingly have repaid him what he had spent and more from her own fortune, though it would have meant she had none left for travelling.
A shiver went through her. After what had happened, she would never want to leave her home again. She wished that neither she nor Harriet had left the shores of England.
‘Harry …’ Hearing a wail of despair, Harriet turned to look at her cousin. Marguerite was vomiting, her gown stained with brownish liquid. ‘I feel so ill. My stomach hurts.’
‘Sit down, dearest. Is it the same as you felt when we had the storm?’
‘No, it is worse. I think the food they gave us in that terrible place was bad.’
‘Lie down on the bed and I will get help.’
Harriet went to the door of the cabin. She had expected that it might be locked, but found it opened at her touch. She went out into the narrow passage and looked to left and right, hoping that she might see someone.
‘Help … please help …’
‘There is no use in calling for help. No one will help you to escape.’
Harriet glared at the man with the blue eyes, raising her head proudly. ‘I am not foolish enough to imagine I could escape from a ship. Had I wanted to try I should have done so while we were in port. My cousin is ill.’
He stared at her, considering. ‘What ails her?’
‘She has been sick and she has pain in her stomach. I think the food we were given at the slave master’s compound was bad. I ate nothing but a piece of bread, but Marguerite was hungry and ate
