but he knew that the prisoners the Janissaries had brought back would receive harsh punishment. There was nothing he could do to change that fact, and any interference would be frowned on. It was a part of the life he had chosen here and he must accept it.
However, he would not be around to see the punishments for he must leave as soon as he could to provision his ship. A request from the Caliph was an order. Kasim must find a bride for the young prince—and an English girl of exceptional beauty and intelligence.
It would not be easy to find the right woman. Kasim knew that he might need to spend many months searching for such a woman—if indeed it could be done.
Kasim understood the thinking behind his ruler’s request. To favour the daughter of one tribal chieftain would certainly cause jealousy and unrest. Yet something about this mission did not sit well with him. If it were possible he would have refused, but he had no choice—unless he wished to leave the palace and seek a new life.
He had risen high in the service of the Caliph and was already in possession of a considerable fortune. Kasim was aware of a restless need inside himself, a desire for something he could not name. A wry smile touched his mouth. He had left England under a shadow many years before. Fortune or Fate had brought him here after a period of hardship and suffering, and he would be a fool to question the life he had found as an honoured member of the Caliph’s household.
Chapter One
‘What is happening to us? Where are they taking us now?’
Lady Harriet Sefton-Jones looked at the young woman who clutched her arm so desperately, feeling a deep shaft of sympathy. Corsairs had captured their ship some weeks earlier and they had been kept in the hold for days, shivering and terrified. When the ship docked they were taken to a house somewhere in the busy port of Algiers. The men captured with them that terrible night were shackled with chains about their ankles, but at least she and her cousin, Marguerite, had been spared that fate. Once at the house she and her cousin had been cared for by an old woman, taken to bathe and given the apparel they were wearing now. The clothes were clean, but felt strange; they consisted of long narrow pantaloons that clung to the ankle and dark tunics that covered them from head to toe.
‘I am not sure, dearest,’ Harriet said in a low voice. They had been forbidden to talk by the man who accompanied them. ‘I think the corsair captain sold us to Ali Bin Ahmed, at least that is what I gathered from Miriam—but I do not know where we are going now.’
‘I couldn’t understand a word she said,’ Marguerite said tearfully. ‘If only we had stayed with the ship, Harriet. Father and Captain Richardson put us into the rowing boat with others in the hope of saving us, but …’ A shiver took her and she could not continue. ‘Do you think they were killed?’
Harriet did not answer immediately. Her uncle, Sir Harold Henley, and the brave young captain had last been seen fighting the horde of pirates who had boarded the ship during the night. The vessel had been becalmed for lack of wind and the lookout must have neglected his duty for they had been woken by Marguerite’s father and told they were being boarded by pirates. He had hurried the ladies from their cabin and sent them up on deck, where they were put into the boats with other passengers and crew. They had hoped to reach the shore while the corsairs were fighting for the ship, but the fierce pirates had come after the boat, perhaps because of the women.
Marguerite was beautiful and would be prized in the slave markets, which was in all probability where they were headed now. Harriet was older than her cousin, attractive in her own way with dark hair and soft eyes. She had studied languages with her father before his death just over a year previously and could speak French and Spanish fluently. She could also read in Arabic and Greek, and it was because she could recognise a smattering of various other languages that she had managed to communicate with the elderly woman who’d helped hold them captive, Miriam.
As yet Harriet had not told her cousin what she feared, because she had hoped she might be allowed to ransom both Marguerite and herself. She had tried to tell Miriam that she was willing to pay, but the woman just shook her head. Although she was apprehensive herself, Harriet had no intention of giving up. Sooner or later she was bound to come in contact with someone who would listen to her and not pretend they did not understand, as the corsair captain had when she pleaded with him and received a blow for her pains. The bruise on her cheek still hurt her, but it had not daunted her spirit.
She reached for her cousin’s hand. ‘Whatever happens, we must not be separated,’ she said. ‘Just do as I do and hold on to me even if they threaten us.’
‘Oh, Harriet …’ Marguerite’s eyes filled with tears. ‘If you had not accompanied Father and me to Spain, I should have been alone and I just could not bear it.’
‘I will not let them part us,’ Harriet vowed, holding tightly to the younger woman. ‘I promise that as long as I live I will do my best to protect you.’
‘I am so afraid …’
Harriet comforted her as best she could, knowing that amongst people who seemed ruthless and capable of any violence anything could happen. She saw the high metal fencing that surrounded the building to which they were being taken, her worst fears confirmed.
They were about to be sold in the slave market, as if they were beasts or chattels—and anyone could buy them.
Kasim wandered round the busy marketplace. It teamed with people of many nationalities; voices, harsh and shrill, assaulted his ears with perhaps a dozen different languages and dialects. He had visited the market every day for nearly two months looking for the special woman that the Caliph had requested him to find, but as yet he had seen none that would please his exacting master. There were many beautiful women to be found in the auctions that were held most days, but only one had been English in the past few weeks. She was already bearing a child and was neither as beautiful nor as clever as the Caliph required.
‘Will your highness attend the auction of Ali bin Ahmed this day, honourable lord?’
Kasim looked down into the impish face of the young slave boy, who was tugging at his sleeve. The lad was thin, dressed in filthy rags and smelled none too sweet, yet his heart was touched by something in the boy’s eyes. His life as Ali bin Ahmed’s whipping boy could not be easy.
‘Did your master send you to me, Yuri?’
‘Yes, gracious lord, master of the Caliph’s household and exalted one. Ali bin Ahmed told me he has heard that you are looking for a special woman.’
‘There is no need to call me by such titles,’ Kasim said with a wry twist of his lips. There was something about the lad that touched a chord in his memory, but he could not place it. No doubt it would come to him in time. ‘I am merely Kasim, servant to the Caliph. Tell me, does your master have a special woman in his compound?’
‘There is a woman of great beauty but she weeps all the time and clings to the other woman who I’ve named the hellcat,’ Yuri told him with a grimace. ‘I do not think they would interest you, lord.’
Kasim hid his smile for the lad amused him. His spirit and courage was remarkable and his eyes told of a wicked humour. ‘Tell me what is this woman like—the one of great beauty?’
‘She has hair like sunbeams, fine and silky, and it falls to the small of her back. Her eyes are blue as a summer sky and her mouth is pink and soft … but she clings to the hellcat and will not be parted from her. Even though my master threatened them with the whip, the hellcat would not let go of her. She faced him down
