Mistress Below Deck (13 page)

‘Where did you learn to speak English?' she asked as Fatima massaged her calf.

‘My mother was Irish from County Cork. She taught me. Like your sister, she was taken by the corsairs when they raided her village. She was just thirteen. She was bought and placed in the harem of a wealthy Moor in Morocco, where I was born.'

‘Did she ever return to Ireland?'

‘No. She remained a slave until she died, but she had no wish to go home. She came from a poor family, so there was no question of a ransom. She came to like the
life in the harem with the other women. The Moor—my father—was good to his women. My mother, who had known nothing but hunger and poverty at home, had never known such luxury as there was in the harem.'

‘But she was still a slave, Fatima.' Rowena was tempted to say that in her opinion slavery was brutal and devoid of any moral scruple, that these people had once been masters of their own destinies before they had been taken against their will and put through their paces in the slave markets of Barbary. Not wishing to give offence, she held her tongue and said, ‘And you married Ahmed.'

Fatima's full lips stretched in a broad smile. ‘My father sold me to him. Ahmed is a good man—not only rich, but an influential man in Algiers and in the towns along the coast, because he builds such fine ships.'

‘And you don't mind that he has two more wives?'

She shrugged. ‘No. Here it is accepted. One wife or three—what does it matter? I am his first wife so I am the important one, and my eldest son, Ishmael, is Ahmed's heir.'

Bathed, scented and draped in a flowing white tunic and feeling more feminine than she had ever felt in her life before, Rowena stood back for the three wives to inspect their handiwork.

Fatima beamed broadly, well satisfied. ‘Tobias will not be able to resist you when he sees you out of those unflattering boy's clothes. He is like Ahmed in many ways, honourable, noble and trustworthy, as well as handsome—all the things I cherish in a man—and I
have observed he is protective of you. You are a long way from England and have plenty of time to be together, so it will be interesting to see what happens between the two of you.'

Rowena merely smiled and let the matter rest. She spent the rest of the evening lounging on a divan in conversation with Fatima and nibbling on delicious sweetmeats, before being shown to a room of sumptuous luxury, where she slept the night away like a babe.

Tobias arrived after dark on the second night. Ahmed was at his boat yard down at the docks, so he went into the garden to await Rowena.

Rowena was bathing—her experience in the bathing chamber had had a magnetic effect on her and she couldn't resist repeating the experience whenever the fancy took her. The weather was so hot she welcomed the feel of the cool, heavenly water swirling over her body, soothing away her impatience to see Tobias, which had been growing ever since he had left her.

After two days she found herself transformed. The comfortable, indolent life at Ahmed's house, the rich food, the leisurely strolls in the flower-scented garden, and all the dexterous attention of Ahmed's three wives had worked wonders. Her body felt supple and soft, her skin bloomed, and, as Fatima said, was as fine textured as a flower petal. They dressed her in strange, exotic costumes. Her fingers had never caressed such gorgeous silk, and some of the fabrics were so fine as to be almost shockingly transparent. The costumes were not as restricting
as the ones she was used to, and she took pleasure in wearing them.

The air was heavy with perfume and disturbed by the rhythmic sound of cicadas. Drinking in the fragrant tranquillity, Tobias walked slowly along a walkway covered in delicate flower-decked trellis. The night was glorious—an African night, the sky dark blue and rich with stars that glittered softly, pricking the surface of the sea with little phospherent wavelets.

From the house, Rowena took a moment to observe him, admiring the fine figure he made. A white shirt, opened at the throat and ruffled at the cuffs, contrasted sharply with his bronze skin, and his lean, muscular build was accentuated by the close-fitting breeches and white stockings. He was bare headed, and his dark hair was tied back at the nape.

Although he moved with almost sensuous grace, there was a sureness in his stride as he walked, as if he carefully planned where each foot would fall. He appeared relaxed and at ease, but there was a quiet alertness in his manner, and Rowena sensed he was aware of everything that transpired around him. She was impatient to see him, mainly because she wanted to know if he had discovered anything about Jane, but there was a small treacherous part of her that told her she wanted to see him for herself.

Stepping out on to the terrace, she was between Tobias and the light, so that her body was outlined through her thin robe. The many scents of the garden—the sweetness of jasmine and the fragrance of fruiting
orange and lemon trees and beneficial herbs—leaped up to meet her, filling her head, as though she had been handed a bouquet of flowers.

‘Tobias?'

Her familiar voice rose above the sounds of the night. Tobias did not realise how much he had missed her until he heard it, or how the sight of her warmed his heart—and it had only been forty-eight hours since he had left her. She was coming towards him, her robe drifting and outlining her slender form with her movements, her slippered feet making no sound. His admiring gaze took in her fashionable
toilette
, lingering on the gold and jewels adorning her neck and wrists, and Rowena felt herself grow hot with embarrassment.

For a moment Tobias felt as if she had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. And then he blinked and shook off his strange abstractions.

‘Good Lord!' A slow smile of admiration swept across his face as he beheld the lovely young woman. Her dark glossy hair, reflecting the light, was a cap of shining curls.

The dark liquid of his eyes deepened as he became caught up in the warmth of her presence and she read in his face such evident desire that heat flamed for a moment in her cheeks. ‘Yes, Tobias? What is it?'

She moved closer still, and though the light was dim he could perceive her lovely face, more serene than he had ever seen it. ‘What was in that wine Fatima has just plied me with? A philtre to rouse the blood?'

‘And has it?'

‘What?'

‘Roused your blood?'

‘It's definitely affected.' Taking her hand, he raised her fingers to his lips, enjoying the scent and taste of her. When he looked at her there was a twinkle in her eyes. ‘You look like some eastern nymph.'

‘I thought you would never come.'

‘Does that mean you have missed me, Rowena?'

‘I thought you might be otherwise occupied,' she prevaricated. ‘That you must be too busy with matters on board your ship to get away to see me.'

‘Nothing could ever be as important as coming here to see how you are,' he said blandly, and he meant it.

Perhaps it was the magic of the night, the warmth and subtle floral scents, or her need to be close to him, but whatever the cause, Rowena's heart doubled its pace.

In a voice like rough velvet, he said, ‘You are beautiful. Where has my cabin boy gone, I wonder?'

Mesmerised, Rowena stared into his fathomless dark eyes, while his deep, husky voice caressed her, pulling her further under his spell.

‘The colour of your robe suits you,' he murmured softly.

‘It's sea green. Fatima chose it. She says it is the same colour as my eyes.'

‘It is well chosen. How do you like living in a Muslim household?'

‘It's so far removed from anything I have ever known or could have imagined. I have been made to feel very welcome—so much so that I have serious doubts I shall ever be able to leave.' Suddenly, mischievously, she
smiled and cocked her head sideways as she looked up at him. ‘Would you embrace Islam, Tobias?'

He stared at her. ‘Why?'

‘Because then you, too, could have three wives.'

He laughed. ‘One wife is sufficient for any man.'

‘So,' she said, falling into step beside him as they strolled along the garden paths, ‘has your day been productive?'

‘I've spent my time chasing up the Dey's scribes and gaining permission to see the register of captives who have been brought to Algiers recently.'

She looked at him, eyeing him with concern as he frowned distractedly. ‘What is it that makes you look so grim? Did you find anything out about Jane?' His expression tightened and a cold shiver of fear travelled down her spine. ‘You know where she is, don't you?' Coming to a halt, she took his arm and forced him to look at her, her eyes intense. ‘Don't lie to me, Tobias, and don't hold anything back. Was she brought here? Has she been sold.'

‘I did find her name in the register—and, yes, Rowena, she has been sold.'

Rowena raised her head and looked at him, her lovely mouth pinched and drawn. ‘Then whoever has bought her—will he take her for his wife?'

‘Not unless she converts to Islam.'

Rowena stared at him. ‘Do you mean she would have to renounce Christianity?'

Tobias nodded. ‘That is the only way.'

‘Then to get her to comply would have to be under
duress. Jane is a devout Christian. She would never willingly forsake her faith.' She shook her head slowly as realisation of what this would mean to her gentle sister became clear. ‘To do so would be a source of shame. She would be despised by Christians, and yet if she doesn't I believe she will be severely punished until she is constrained to submit. That will happen, won't it, Tobias?'

In this instance Tobias would prefer that Rowena did not know the truth of what happened to female captives who were taken into rich men's harems and forcibly converted to Islam, afterwards having the dubious honour of indulging their master's sexual whims.

‘Jane will be made to convert. You asked me not to hold anything back from you, Rowena, to be honest, so there you have it.'

‘They may force her, but she will never give up the consent of her heart. Where is she? Is she here in Algiers?'

‘She is being taken to Meknes. She was bought by one of Sultan Moulay Ismail's agents by the name of Suleiman—a top dealer in white slaves who prides himself on his merchandise. He buys girls of excellent quality for the sultan's large and prestigious harem, where women and children live in cloistered isolation.'

Rowena glanced at him sharply. ‘This sultan? Who is he?'

‘Ismail Moulay is the Sultan of Morocco—a very powerful man.'

‘Tell me about him? He sounds very important. Is he a good man—or a man to be feared?'

‘Unfortunately it is the latter. He is a cold-hearted
despot who demands absolute deference from his subjects. He is unpredictable, dangerous and utterly ruthless—a man to be avoided at all costs.'

The clear blue-green eyes anxiously questioned. ‘Where is this place he is taking her to?'

‘Meknes is the imperial capital—approximately five hundred miles away from Algiers by land. The sultan's palace, which resembles an impregnable fortress, has been constructed on a grand scale, built entirely by Christian slave labour—the like of which you cannot possibly imagine. It is a huge complex of luxury that is said to outshine King Louis's Palace of Versailles, yet designed to withstand the mightiest armies and is protected by the black imperial guard, who are well drilled, vicious and ready to attack anyone.'

‘Was there any talk of a ransom?'

‘No. Jane was quite outstanding and caused quite a stir among the potential buyers. Some of the other females were plain and lacked grace, but your sister sold for a fine price. She was the central jewel of the whole auction, according to the scribe.'

Rowena's rage came to the fore. ‘How dare they treat her like a cow at an auction? How dare they? At least we know where she is being taken, and, now we know, I will follow her and speak to her and hopefully take her home.'

Tobias's face darkened. ‘It is not that simple, Rowena. When she reaches Meknes and is installed into the sultan's harem, then to so much as glimpse inside would cost you your life. No one but the sultan himself and his eunuchs are allowed into the inner sanctum.'

What Tobias told her snuffed out the joy Rowena felt on being close to her sister. Despite the heat, she felt the ice move in her veins. Something inside her lurched in terror of what she didn't know, for surely the worst had happened. ‘But he cannot keep her locked up for ever. There must be something we can do to reach her.'

‘Once she is in the harem, there will be little we can do.'

‘But—there has to be. I cannot go back without her. You know I cannot,' she cried in desperation. ‘I could not leave Jane.'

‘You may have no choice, Rowena.' Tobias knew the pain that was in her heart—he could feel it almost as a tangible thing.

‘That is not true.' Her voice rose and she stepped back from him, her eyes filled with horror. ‘There has to be some way of getting her out. I will go there and see this place for myself if necessary. I will speak to the sultan and ask for her to be set at ransom and freed.'

‘It's impossible. There will be risks I don't want to expose you to.'

‘I'm not afraid of danger. Nothing can frighten me.'

Tobias caught the spark that ignited her blue-green eyes and the temper behind them. He combed his fingers through his hair in frustration, knowing that nothing he could say would deter her from seeking out her sister.

‘Dear Lord, Rowena, you never cease to amaze me. You are so headstrong, so strong willed and full of your own invincibility that you are willing to put yourself in danger.'

‘I will do anything.'

‘You're deceiving yourself. What will you do? How
can you imagine going to Meknes to get Jane back? You wouldn't get anywhere near her. Be realistic, Rowena. You are doomed if anyone recognises you as a Christian. Your head would soon be used to decorate the walls of the sultan's imperial palace and your body thrown to the lions.'