Bedazzled

The dey stepped down and stood before her. 'Look at me!' he commanded her, and when she did, he reached around her and fondled one of her buttocks. Then his hand smoothed its way down her back. 'You have skin like the finest Bursa silk,' he told her. He then moved in a leisurely fashion about her. She had beautiful limbs, well shaped and not too thin. Her legs were long, her feet small and slender. He put his arm about her suddenly, and drew her back against his body, cupping one of her breasts in his hand. 'Tell me the truth,' he whispered in her ear, his fingers caressing her bosom. 'Are you truly a virgin?'

India nodded vigorously, at first unable to speak. She was both hot and cold, and had to struggle to remain standing, for her legs felt as if they would give way at any minute. His large hand was splayed across her belly and felt fiery against her skin. She wondered if he could feel her trembling. Finally she was able to speak. 'Of course I am a virgin,' she gasped. 'Why would you think otherwise?'

'Because you have told me you are in love with the milord,' the dey answered her.

'I love him, but I am certainly no wanton,' India murmured. 'And if he had had me, would you set us free?' Oh, God! She wished his hands didn't feel so all-possessing. Every time he caressed her, chills raced up and down her spine.

'No, I would not set you free, although it would displease me to learn that another had traveled the path I have solely reserved for my own pleasure.' His lips brushed her ear. 'I am going to make love to you,' he said softly. 'I shall kiss you and caress you until you beg me to relieve you of the burden of your virginity.'

'Never!' she half whispered vehemently.

'And I shall teach you how to please me.' His big hand drew her head to one side, and his mouth branded her throat with kisses. 'Tell me your name, my thorny rose.'

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! And then she finally managed to say, 'India.'

'India.' he breathed hotly in her ear.

'I am Lady India Anne Lindley, daughter of the duke of Glenkirk… I have a brother who is a duke… and another brother who is a marquis… I am rich and can pay whatever ransom you desire. Ohhh God! Don't do that! Please let me go, my lord!'

'There isn't enough gold in the world to buy you from me,' the dey told her. Then his fingers teased down her torso, and, pushing his hands between her trembling thighs, he cupped her Venus mound within his palm. 'You belong to me,' he told her.

India collapsed against him. The touch of his hand in that most secret of places was simply too much for her. With a cry she fainted dead away. The dey caught her in his arms, and calmly handed her limp form to a eunuch. Brushing India's hot cheek with the back of his hand, he smiled to himself. Aruj Agha had been wrong. There had been a valuable cargo on the English ship, and as was his right, the dey claimed this cargo for himself.

'Take her to Baba Hassan,' he told the eunuch, 'and tell him the girl is to be treated like a princess. I will speak with him later.'

The eunuch turned, and exited the audience chamber carrying his burden with extreme gentleness.

'If she kills you, I will not be responsible,' Aruj Agha said wryly. 'I think she will break you, rather than the other way around.'

'We will destroy each other in an excess of passion,' the dey answered him. 'I have been bored of late. I will no longer be bored. She intrigues me, my friend. She was frightened to death, but she would not admit to it, or even show it by any outward sign. I knew, for I could feel her trembling ever so slightly beneath my touch.'

'When she declared she was in love with the milord, I feared I had been misled with regard to her virginity, and I was ashamed to have brought you so poor a gift,' the agha said, 'but when she fainted at your intimate touch, I knew she was indeed a virgin. I wish you much joy with the girl, my lord dey. Now, I will take my leave of you.' Aruj Agha bowed low before his lord.

'The English milord,' Caynan Reis said. 'Do not kill him, my friend. I want him alive to eventually ransom, but first I think he needs a strong lesson in manners.'

'You will ransom him despite the difficulty?' The agha was surprised. 'Why?'

'The girl believes I have given him a death sentence. In a few months we will show her that he is still alive, and that I am a merciful man. I will have won her love by then, and so we will ransom him. It amuses me to do this. Now, go and Allah be with you, Aruj Agha. Travel safely, and bring me more treasures to enrich our master the sultan.'

The janissary captain departed the dey's audience chamber, and Caynan Reis dismissed his servants, sitting quietly upon his dais. Viscount Twyford. How odd it had been to hear the title that had once come out of his half-brother's mouth. Adrian had, under his mother's tutelage, become an arrogant swine, so filled with himself that he had not even recognized Deverall Leigh, but then, it had been ten years since they had last seen each other. Ten years could be a lifetime, the dey considered.

In that time his half-brother had grown from a snot-nosed brat into a haughty and insolent cad. One of the guards who had escorted Captain Southwood and Adrian from his audience chamber had been a sailor on the ship he had taken from England. That vessel, like the Royal Charles, had been captured by corsairs sailing out of El Sinut. The guard, like Deverall Leigh, had accepted Islam, and gained a decent life. Although he rarely heard his native tongue, he had dutifully reported the conversation he overheard between the English captain and Adrian, even as the dey was preparing to punish India for her attack on his person. Captain Southwood's gallant attempt to protect his cousin from scandal undoubtedly came about because the foolish, inexperienced India was attempting to elope with Adrian. He could see his stepmother's greedy hand in it, the dey thought. He doubted the girl's family would have approved any match between his half-brother and India. Not with his stepmother's reputation, and the scandal of Lord Jeffers's murder, for which he had been held responsible.

He simply should have held Adrian in his dungeon until a ransom could have been obtained for his person, although he knew his father was not a rich man. Still, MariElena Leigh would have moved heaven and earth to regain her darling son. The dey smiled grimly. He could imagine her anguish. The little bastard, however, had aggravated him with his arrogance. The order to send him to the galleys was out of his mouth before the dey realized what he was saying. Well, a few months in the galleys wouldn't kill Adrian. It might even make him a better man. After all, the dey of El Sinut had himself been confined in the galleys for almost two years, and he had survived. Surely his half-brother was made of the same stuff.

And when the ransom was finally paid, Caynan Reis decided, he would reveal himself to Adrian. And he would tell him how delicious a prize the beautiful India was, for although his half- brother had now dismissed the girl he had been eloping with, it would certainly madden him to know she was Deverall Leigh's mistress, and would be until he tired of her. Adrian had always been loath to share his toys when he was little. Even when he had tired of them.

His stepmother had taught him one important lesson. Women were expendable, and absolutely not to be trusted. Nonetheless, his revenge would be sweet, and it was little enough for Adrian to suffer. After all, he would go home to England, and one day inherit the title that was rightfully Deverall Leigh's. Whereas Deverall Leigh could never go home because he stood accused of murdering Lord Jeffers. His name was blackened forever, and he knew that his father's heart was broken because of it, for he had been the earl of Oxton's favorite son.

And that was what hurt the dey worst of all. The knowledge that his father had been shamed, and injured because of this. So that a selfish and thoughtless woman's son might supplant him. He wished there was some way he might make his stepmother suffer for all her betrayals, and for the death of an innocent man, but he knew his desire was a futile one. Still, he would think on it. Was it not written that nothing