hawk—wild and dangerous.’
Suleiman’s anger faded as swiftly as it had flared. He considered her words a compliment rather than the insult she had intended and was amused. He smiled and took her arm, leading her firmly back to where the litter and horses were waiting.
‘I’m not going to wear that thing,’ Eleanor said as she saw that one of his men had picked up her cloak. ‘And I am not going to be carried in that stupid litter.’
‘Then you will ride with me,’ Suleiman said, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. ‘And you have only yourself to blame for this, Eleanor.’
He picked her up and flung her over his saddle so that she lay face down, then mounted swiftly before she could attempt to wriggle free. His knees were pressed against her, the reins firmly gripped above her head and she knew she could not free herself.
‘You devil! Let me down at once! You cannot treat me like this! I am a lady…if you know what that means.’
‘Be careful, Eleanor,’ he warned, but there was laughter in his voice. ‘I may have to beat you if you continue to flaunt my orders. My men are watching and I cannot allow a woman to dictate to me. You will lie there quietly until I decide to let you up—or you will be sorry.’
As he kicked his horse into a sudden canter at the same time as he spoke these words, Eleanor was unable to do anything. She was fuming, but she was also very uncomfortable. How dare he do this to her? She was indignant.
‘You are a brute,’ she muttered into the blanket that lay beneath his leather saddle. ‘I hate you. You are just like those murdering pirates who killed my father. I would have killed them if I could—I will kill you if I get the chance!’
‘Speak louder, Eleanor,’ Suleiman said. ‘I cannot hear you.’
She could hear the mockery in his voice and knew that he was laughing at her. He did not believe she could touch him—because he was too arrogant and sure of himself. He was accustomed to being obeyed instantly, and thought himself all-powerful. Well, just let him wait! One of these days she would make him sorry!
They had left the city walls behind before Suleiman stopped and lifted her into a sitting position, his arm about her waist pressing her to him, as much his prisoner as before. She had seen nothing but a blur of stone walls and dirt streets, keeping her eyes closed most of the time because she had been afraid of falling if she did not concentrate.
‘Is that better?’ he asked softly against her hair. ‘I am sorry, little bird. That was unkind of me—but you made me angry. Besides, I had to make sure you could not get away from me. Constantinople is a dangerous place for a woman—especially one as lovely as you.’
‘I know…Roxana told me.’ Eleanor was leaning back against him; she had been feeling dizzy when he raised her, but now the unpleasant sensation was beginning to fade and she was oddly comforted by the feel of his strong arms about her as they rode. ‘I would not have run…but I was afraid.’
‘You told me you were not.’
‘How could I not be?’ Eleanor turned her head to glance at his face. ‘You are going to give me to the Sultan. I cannot bear to be the concubine of a man I do not know—a much older man…’
‘Would you prefer to be my concubine?’ Suleiman whispered huskily against her hair, his voice so soft and low that she was not sure she had heard him correctly.
‘I—I do not—’
What she was about to say was lost, for one of Suleiman’s men gave a warning shout and, looking over his shoulder, Suleiman cursed. A small group of black robed men were riding fast towards them.
‘Bandits,’ he said. ‘Hold tight, Eleanor. If you are taken by these men, you will wish you had died…’
Suleiman kicked at his horse’s flank and they set off at a tremendous pace across the open countryside. She could see the pinkish stone walls of a great sprawling palace looming up ahead of them in the gathering darkness. Behind her she heard shouting and screaming as Suleiman’s men joined battle with the bandits to allow him to reach the palace in safety, and then, as they drew close to the huge wooden gates they opened and a small troupe of horsemen raced out to join the escort guards.
‘You are safe now, little one,’ Suleiman whispered in her ear. ‘You must not be afraid. Do what the women tell you and no harm will come to you. I give you my word.’
‘The word of a barbarian?’
‘The word of Caliph Bakhar’s son,’ Suleiman replied. ‘You will discover soon that that means more than you might imagine…’
Eleanor waited as he leapt down from his horse’s back and lifted her to the ground. Men had come running, and also an older woman dressed all in black. At a command from her master, she took Eleanor’s arm and led her away. Eleanor looked back and saw that Suleiman had mounted a fresh horse. He was going back outside the gates to fight with his men. She wanted to stop him, to beg him not to risk his life, but he would not have listened. She was nothing, merely a slave he had bought as a gift for another man.
‘What is happening?’ she asked the old woman, who was pulling at her arm. ‘Is the palace being attacked? Why has Suleiman gone back out there?’
The woman shook her head, clearly not understanding a word she said. Eleanor tried the same question in French, but there was no response.
The woman began to talk to her in what was probably Arabic. Eleanor thought she recognised a few words, but was not certain—though it was obvious that the woman wanted Eleanor to go with her. There was no point in resisting any further for the moment; besides, all the fight had suddenly gone out of her. Oddly, her fears at this moment were more for the man who had brought her here than for herself.
He had told her she would not be harmed if she did as the women told her and somehow she believed him. But what of him? It was obvious that those men who had followed them were armed and dangerous—would Suleiman be killed in the fighting? She suddenly discovered that the thought appalled her.
Nothing must happen to Suleiman Bakhar! He was her only chance of ever being allowed to return to her family. She had called him a savage and a barbarian, but in her heart she knew he was not that—though she did not know what kind of a man he really was. He looked fierce and proud, and undoubtedly he was—but she believed there was a softer side to him. If she could reach that inner core, then there might be a faint hope for her…nothing must happen to him.
‘May Allah keep you safe,’ she whispered. ‘And may God be with you this night.’
Let her prayers be heard by his god or hers. It did not matter at this moment as long as he lived. For, despite her attempts to escape him, and her anger at the way she had been treated, something deep inside her told her that she had been fortunate to be bought by this man…
‘Allah be praised!’ Caliph Bakhar said when they brought him the news that Suleiman had returned to the palace triumphant with his prisoners, who would be speedily dispatched the next morning at dawn. ‘These bandits have been a thorn in my side for too long. My son has done well.’
He had been furious that Suleiman had put his own life at risk, but now that he was safe and the bandits taken, the Caliph’s pride knew no bounds. Suleiman was a worthy son!
‘Ask
