unwilling ruler. The rest you know, beauty.”
“I am truly sorry for your great loss,” she said softly.
“As am I, beauty, for my brothers were good men. Yet, as in all situations, there is a good side. As the lord of Mesembria I am able to ask the emperor for his widowed sister-in-law’s hand in marriage. Look at me, Theadora!”
It was the first time he had ever called her by her name. Surprised, she raised her eyes to his.
“I am an impatient man, beauty. You cannot deny the attraction we felt for each other when I held you and your son captive in my city. I believe you could learn to love me. You know more of me than most women know of their bridegrooms. Say you will wed me.”
“My lord, you hurry me too quickly. I am confused. My husband is only recently dead, and I was forced to flee the unwelcome attentions of the new sultan. I do not even know if I wish to remarry.”
The hand holding hers beneath the table loosed it and moved to gently caress her thigh. She quivered. “Ah, beauty, you were not meant to live a celibate life. And you are not a wanton woman to take lovers like your sister. You are meant to be married, and to have children about you. I would have you, and I would have our children.”
“Give me but a little time, my lord Alexander,” she pleaded.
He did not press her further during the feast, turning instead to talk with the emperor. Yet he watched over her, seeing that she had the choicest viands and that her cup was kept filled with sweet wine. Toward midnight the emperor gave the signal that those who wished to leave might, and Theadora took the opportunity to flee the hall.
There was no doubt in her mind that Alexander attracted her, and he had been correct about one thing. She was meant to marry. Long ago her mother had promised her that when Orkhan died she would be brought home to Byzantium to make a good Christian marriage.
As a princess of Byzantium, however, she could not marry just anyone. There was no one within the emperor’s court who was of sufficient rank to be her husband. Among the city-states belonging to the empire, there was no prince other than Alexander who was not married, too old, or too young.
Practical considerations aside, Alexander was handsome, educated, and sensitive to her as a woman with a mind of her own. She did not think she loved him-but she thought she could. She was strongly attracted to him. He would not be a hard man to live with. And she did want more children.
Absently, she let her women disrobe her, sponge her with warm perfumed water, and slide a blossom-pink caftan over her. Dismissing them, she lay upon her bed.
If Murad had really loved her he would have offered marriage, not the shameful bondage he had suggested. Alexander offered her his heart and his throne.
She smiled to herself in the darkness. Alexander was a very stubborn man, and she did not think he would accept a refusal from her. A giggle of amusement escaped her. A determined Murad to her right, an equally determined Alexander to her left. The truth was that she had no other choice than to accept one of them.
It did not surprise her to see a shadow suddenly loom on the balcony behind the gently billowing sheer silk curtains. She had thought he might come to press his suit more forcefully. There were times when even the most enlightened of men fell back on sex as a persuader. She knew it would disappoint him to learn that she had already reached a decision in his favor, using logic to do so.
Entering the room he walked quickly to her bedside. “Are you really asleep, beauty?”
“No, Alexander. I am thinking.”
“Of what we spoke about this evening?”
“Yes.”
Without being asked he sat down on her bed. “I have not kissed you in so long,” he said. Reaching out, he drew her into his arms and kissed her gently.
He loosed her, and she said softly, “Is that how you would make love to me, Alexander? I remember my first night in Phocaea when you were far more articulate on much shorter acquaintance. Come, my lord, I am no easily broken toy. If your love is that tame then perhaps I should not marry you. I am no wanton, but even my elderly husband was more vigorous a lover.”
A deep rumble of delighted laughter echoed in the darkness. “So, beauty, you will not be put upon a pedestal and worshiped like some ancient goddess?”
“No, I will not, my lord, for I am a flesh-and-blood woman.”
She heard him moving about and soon one of the lamps by her bed was lit, and then another, and another. “I would see you when I make love to you,” he said, drawing her up from the bed. His fingers swiftly undid the pearl buttons on her caftan, sliding it from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His own robe quickly followed hers, sliding to the soft rugs.
Falling back on the bed, he held her above him, rubbing his smooth face against her breasts. Then he slowly lowered her, folding her into his strong arms. She sighed deeply. Expertly he reversed their positions, and she suddenly found herself lying beneath him. He gazed down at her and she blushed under his inspection.
“Christos, how beautiful you are,” he muttered hoarsely, and his hands stroked her breasts. His soft fingertips brushed against her skin again and again, and she could feel the familiar tension beginning. He sat up, pulling her back between his legs. He cupped the cones of her breasts, gently pulling and pinching the large coral nipples, and she could feel his maleness butting against her lower back. Now she lay across his lap, and the big hands caressed her belly with a strength of touch that made her shrink slightly.
He laughed softly. “So, beauty, you recognize your master. Did your greybeard husband ever make you feel this way? I’ll wager not! Marry me, my darling, and I will teach you to crave my touch. I can pleasure you as no man can, and no woman will ever please me as you do, beauty.”
“You talk a good deal, my lord,” she mocked him, and his mouth crushed against her lips, bruising them, his white teeth drawing salty blood, his tongue subduing hers. He trailed a path of fiery kisses across her breasts and belly, finding the softness of her inner thighs with his mouth.
Theadora stiffened with shock as his soft, insistent tongue reached where no one had ever ventured. Her body shrank from him, her voice shook with protest. “N-No!”
He raised his head and stared at her, his eyes glazed with passion. “Has no one ever tasted of you, beauty?”
“No!”
“But you are like honey. A woman is sweetest there, beauty.”
“I-it is w-wrong” she managed to gasp. “You must not!”
“Who tells you it is wrong? Does it not give you pleasure, my love? Whom do we hurt? I will soon teach you how to pleasure me in the same sweet way.” Then he lowered his head again and, pushing her legs up and apart, sought again the sweetness he craved.
At first she was tense beneath the velvety, probing tongue, but suddenly a wave of pure pleasure washed through her defenses and she groaned. Deep, deep within her she could feel the tenseness mounting until it was almost unbearable. She was desperate for release, but he withheld it. Instead, he carefully eased off so that the tension receded like a wave. It began to return as he pulled himself up and threw a leg over her.
With the instinct of Eve that is born into every woman she sought for his manhood with her hands and, capturing it, eagerly guided him to her. She wrapped her arms about him. At first he would not enter her but, instead, rubbed the tip of the turgid root against the soft, throbbing flesh until she thought she would scream with the intensity of the pleasure.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see you when we mate.”
Hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his, and he slowly entered her, gaining almost as much pleasure from watching the ecstasy that transformed her face, as from the act of possession itself.
To her shame she climaxed almost immediately, and he laughed gently. Tenderly, he said, “Ah, beauty, has it been that long for you? I will teach you how to prolong the pleasure, my darling. No, don’t turn away from me. Don’t you know how much I love you, beauty? Please don’t ever shut yourself away from me.”
From that moment on, her eyes never left his as he moved within her, the tempo of his passion increasing as the minutes passed. Then she surprised him by speaking, and so sensual did he find the sound of her voice that his hot seed thundered into the hidden valley of her womb.
“I will marry with you, my lord Alexander,” she said. “I will marry you, my darling, as soon as it can be
