colour, and seemed to have a slightly golden sheen in the sunlight. Seen in her naked glory she was truly magnificent, a goddess come to earth—or so it might seem to any who saw her thus.
She walked down the gently sloping steps into the water, which seemed to be perfumed and was cool to her skin. It felt delicious and she walked further into the shallow pool, dipping down into the water and splashing in it in sheer delight. She suddenly went right under, remembering that she had loved to swim beneath the water as a child. She was so dirty and her hair needed a good soaking to be rid of the filth of her imprisonment.
It was so good to relax here by herself. She would think about escape later. For the moment she was simply going to enjoy the luxury that had been granted her.
Suleiman caught his breath as he watched the woman bathing. She seemed to be content as she splashed and soaped her limbs, and then her hair. It was a wonderful colour. He did not think that he had ever seen such beautiful hair…so thick and wavy. Now that it was wet it had gone darker but he knew it would look even better once it was clean. It would be pleasurable to bury his face in hair like that, to stroke that skin and crush her to him.
He felt a stirring in his loins, and realised that she had affected him in a way no woman had for a long time. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he knew a fierce longing to take her there and then—but then his self-control asserted itself once more. He had not paid a thousand gold pieces for his own benefit. He needed something rare and beautiful to please the Grand Turk.
She was truly a gift fit for the Sultan, he thought as he continued to watch her. The money demanded for her price had been exorbitant, far more than he would normally have considered—but perhaps she was worth it. He frowned as she submerged beneath the water again, seeming to stay there longer than necessary.
Was she trying to drown herself? Such things were not unknown amongst infidel women—they did not always take kindly to the idea of becoming a slave. He had heard of women killing themselves rather than being forced to submit to slavery.
He moved out from behind the pierced wooden screen, which had served as his hiding place, just as the woman surfaced once more. At first she did not seem to see him, then, when she became aware that she was no longer alone, she stared at him for a moment, screamed and ducked beneath the water again.
Suleiman cursed loudly and waded into the pool. The foolish woman was trying to kill herself. He saw her beneath the surface and bent down to grab her, but she shot out of his grasp, swimming beneath the water to the far side. Then she came up gasping for air. He caught a glimpse of her lovely breasts, the nipples a deep rose, peaked and tempting, and then she crossed her arms over herself, her eyes meeting his in a cold stare.
She was angry! Suleiman was also angry. He was wet and uncomfortable and he realised that she had no intention of drowning herself—which made what he had done seem foolish.
‘Who are you?’ Eleanor demanded as he waded up the steps of the bath. He had been wearing a long, heavily embroidered robe over loose white pants and the tunic dragged against him in the water. ‘How dare you spy on me?’
‘I thought you meant to drown yourself. I did not intend to frighten you.’
Eleanor realised that she had spoken in English and that he had replied in the same language, clearly as at home in her native tongue as she. She had not expected that somehow.
‘Go away! You have no right to be here. Mohamed Ali Ben Ibn owns me and he will kill you if he finds you here.’
‘I do not think so.’ Suleiman was amused by her show of defiance. Did she not realise that she was completely at his mercy? He could strip off his wet clothes and join her in the bath… The temptation to do so made him harden beneath his robes. He could feel his manhood burning and throbbing with a fierce need—a need he had not felt in a long time. ‘Come out and dry yourself, woman.’
‘Not while you’re watching!’
‘Foolish one! You have nothing to show that I have not already seen a thousand times.’
‘I don’t care how many concubines you have!’ Eleanor retorted, stung by his mockery. How dare he speak to her so! ‘I am not one of them and I am not coming out until you go away.’
‘You will turn cold.’ Suleiman sat down on a tiled bench, his eyes intent on her face, his mouth softened by amusement. ‘I have no intention of leaving.’
‘You are also wet.’
‘But I shall dry in the sun.’ He laughed huskily, the cruel mouth softened and suddenly appealing. ‘What a fierce one you are, my little bird. You are truly worth the price asked. You will make a fine gift for the Sultan.’
Eleanor was chilled. So she was to be sold after all!
‘Have you bought me?’ He inclined his head, sending strange little sensations down her spine as she saw the brilliance of his eyes. ‘Who—who are you?’
‘My name is Suleiman Bakhar. I am the son of Caliph Bakhar—chief justice minister to the Sultan.’
Eleanor was silent, fighting her desire to weep. It seemed that all her hopes were at an end. She had hoped so much that she would be able to persuade her captor to ransom her—but it was already too late. There was something masterful about this man, an air of arrogance that told her he would not easily give up what was his.
Suleiman relented as he saw her shiver. ‘Come out, foolish woman. I shall turn my back.’
He stood up, turning away so that he could not see her. He heard her moving in the water and was tempted to turn as she left the bath, but resisted.
‘You can look now.’
Suleiman turned. She had wrapped a towel around her body, leaving her shoulders and arms bare, and was clutching the cloth to her as if her life depended on it. He smiled, feeling oddly moved by her need for modesty. Most of the women were only too eager to show off their charms. He picked up the second towel.
‘Come here. I shall dry your hair.’
She made no move to obey, simply staring at him with her head up and her eyes proud. No one disobeyed Suleiman! To do so could mean instant punishment—even death. He was stunned by her obstinacy. Was she mad or merely foolish? Had she no idea how important he was—or what he could do to her if he chose?
‘You must obey me. I am your master.’
‘You may have bought me, but that does not mean that you can make me your slave.’
Suleiman saw the pride and defiance in her eyes and felt a surge of excitement. She was like one of his hawks—when they were fresh from the wild and untamed to the touch of his hand. Most of the birds succumbed to gentle persuasion in time, but now and then one would attempt to tear out his eyes. If that happened the bird was returned to the wild. Some men would have ordered it killed, but Suleiman understood the wild spirit that could not be tamed—and respected it.
He had never met a truly spirited woman before. They were always trained in their duties by the eunuchs and older women long before they were presented to their master.
‘What makes you say that? Do you not understand that I have absolute power over you? I can do with you as I will.’
‘You can do as
