The Pirate Prince (19 page)

Willow wished she were as confident.

Willow was ready and waiting when midnight arrived. She had been too excited to rest since learning she was to leave the harem this very night. Though she anxiously looked forward to being free again, she couldn’t help worrying about her future. Would Dariq be part of her future? Would he wed her and give up pirating? She hoped so, for it was the only way she would have him.

A discreet knock on the door brought Willow’s thoughts to an abrupt halt. The door opened and Ali Hara stepped inside.

“ ’Tis time, mistress. Kamel left hours ago. Even as we speak, he waits for us with the horses.”

Ali Hara walked to the secret panel. It slid open and Willow slipped through; Ali Hara followed close behind her. Willow tried to ignore her feeling of disquiet as she followed the narrow staircase to Dariq’s chamber. She was so close to freedom, she could almost taste it.

* * *

Dariq jumped from the nearby rooftop onto the balcony and eased through the door to his old chambers. Mustafa followed on his heels.

“She’s not here yet,” Dariq whispered.

“Fear not, my prince. Ali Hara will not fail you. Your lady will arrive soon.”

My lady
. A smile lifted the corners of Dariq’s lips. Willow
was
his lady.

The shuffle of footsteps on the stairs in the secret passage alerted Dariq, and he turned just as the panel slid open and Willow and Ali Hara stepped inside. With a cry of gladness, Willow flew into his arms. He hugged her fiercely, then released her.

“Are you ready, my love?”

Willow nodded eagerly. “Aye, the sooner the better.”

Dariq turned to Mustafa. “Show Ali Hara the way. Willow and I will meet you in the alley where Yusuf and Kamel wait with the horses.”

“Are we going over the rooftops?” Willow asked through quivering lips.

“Aye, love. ’Tis not as difficult as it looks. The night isn’t as dark as I would like, but I wanted to get you away as quickly as possible. I couldn’t wait for a moonless night.”

He peered closely at her caftan. “That will never do. You’ll need to move about unencumbered.” He went to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of dark trousers and a dark shirt that he had left behind. “Put these on.”

“I will leave with Ali Hara now,” Mustafa said. “If for some reason I do not see you following, I will come back for you.”

“Nay,” Dariq protested. “If something unforeseen happens, you are to continue on without us.”

Mustafa and Ali Hara slipped through the door and were soon swallowed by darkness. Dariq handed Willow the trousers and shirt. He watched avidly as she pulled off the caftan and shrugged into the male clothing. When he realized the trousers wouldn’t stay up without help, he grabbed a rope from a drapery and handed it to her. Only then did he notice her shorn hair. Outrage slammed through him.

“What happened to your beautiful hair?”

Willow’s hand went to her cropped curls. “Umma cut it in a fit of jealousy. There is no time now for further explanation.”

Dariq silently agreed. They needed to leave … now. He grasped her hand and led her to the balcony, but fate turned against them.

The door burst open and Ibrahim stepped into the chamber. A cadre of armed janizaries surged into the chamber behind him. Someone held a light aloft, catching Dariq and Willow in a frozen tableau of shock and despair. The look on Ibrahim’s face was a twisted mask of hatred.

“How did you know?” Dariq asked as he pushed Willow behind him in a protective gesture.

Ibrahim shot Dariq a fulminating glare. “Sources faithful to me informed me of your plans.”

“Umma,” Willow muttered.

“Seize them!” Ibrahim ordered. “Take my dear brother to the dungeon until I can devise a death worthy of him.”

First Dariq and then Willow were immediately seized. There was no escape possible.

“Wait!” Dariq cried, digging in his heels as he was being dragged away. “What are you going to do to Willow?”

Ibrahim gave Willow a disparaging sneer. “The woman
no longer interests me. She looks like a shorn sheep. I was told she deliberately cut her hair to escape my attention. Aside from that, I have decided I will not have your leavings. She will be punished, and so will Ali Hara for arranging your secret meetings.”

“If you hurt Willow, I will avenge her,” Dariq threatened.

“You are in no position to spout threats,” Ibrahim declared. “Take him away.”

Dariq fought every step of the way, until one of the janizaries grew tired of his struggling and rapped him on the head with the hilt of his scimitar.

Willow cried out and tried to go to Dariq when she saw him slump against his captors, but she was forcibly restrained.

“Only a heartless monster would kill his own flesh and blood,” Willow spat.

Ibrahim pounded his chest. “I am Ibrahim, ruler of the Ottoman Empire. I do as I please. If I let my brother live, I will always be wondering when he will strike, when he will seize power from me.”

“Dariq has no desire to rule. You brutally killed all your father’s male children to protect yourself. Only a madman would commit such a horrendous act.”

“Enough!” Ibrahim cried, slashing his hand in the air to silence Willow. “This woman offends me. Take her to the dungeon with her lover, but put them in separate cells. Let them suffer before I end their lives.”

Willow’s struggles were quickly subdued by her captors as she was dragged through the seraglio to a thick wooden door. A guard opened the door, and she was taken down a staircase to a dank chamber beneath the palace. A flickering torch beamed a harsh light upon an empty room with several doors leading from it.

A guard opened one of the doors and thrust her into a tiny, airless cell. The door closed; she was locked inside. It was pitch-black but for tendrils of light filtering in through vertical bars set into the upper part of the door. A quick look around revealed a straw pallet and the dim outlines of a bench and a bucket sitting in a dark corner.

“Willow—is that you?”

The voice came from the other side of an adjoining wall. She flew to the bars. “Dariq? Are you all right?”

“I am fine except for a headache. What about you?”

“I am well. What are we going to do?”

“I wish I knew.” The note of defeat in his voice was so unlike Dariq that Willow nearly succumbed to her own despair.

“What about Mustafa? He must surely know that something has gone wrong.”

“He knows but is powerless to help. Are you sure Umma betrayed us to Ibrahim? I felt I could trust Kamel and his cousin, but perhaps I was wrong.”

“Oh, nay, Kamel is completely trustworthy. I do not know how Umma learned of our plan unless she listened at the door while Ali Hara spoke in my chamber. I wonder why she didn’t just let me go. Then she would have been rid of me for good.”

“She probably wanted to gain Ibrahim’s good will.”

The clatter of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Shhh,” Dariq warned. “Someone is coming. Move away from the bars.”

Willow moved to the bench and sat down. A face appeared at the bars. It was Ibrahim.

“Your accommodations aren’t as comfortable as the ones you occupied in the harem,” Ibrahim gloated. “You
will wish yourself back there when you are spread beneath my stableman. If you resist, he will punish you severely.”

“Let her be!” Dariq shouted from his cell.

Ibrahim crossed over to Dariq’s cell. “You have no authority to tell me what to do. I am not as heartless as you seem to believe. I could have your lover tied, placed in a sack and tossed into the sea, but I did not. Sultans throughout the ages used that method to rid themselves of unfaithful wives and concubines.”

Willow unsuccessfully tried to swallow her gasp.

“I have other plans for your houri. I shall gift her to my stableman. Habib is a crude fellow with a heavy hand, but she will learn not to defy him.”

He laughed. “Aye, ’tis a fit punishment for a gently bred woman. But first, I shall arrange your punishment and death, brother dear. I shall sleep on it a day or two before deciding how you will die.”

Still chuckling, he turned and walked away, leaving a heavy curtain of silence behind.

“Help will arrive,” Willow said hopefully after Ibrahim’s footsteps faded away. “Mustafa will plan a rescue.”

“Pray God and Allah that he does,” Dariq said fervently. “You should rest, my love.”

Dariq knew Habib well, and he would rather see Willow dead than become the possession of the brutish stableman. Dariq didn’t mourn his own death as much as he did Willow’s cruel fate.

Mustafa and Ali Hara were aware of what was happening inside Dariq’s chamber but could do little to help. They realized that rushing to Dariq’s defense would probably get them all killed, so they hovered on the balcony until Dariq and Willow were dragged away.

“What shall we do?” Ali Hara hissed. “You heard Ibrahim. He’s going to give my lady to a stableman and put our prince to death.”

“There is naught we can do without help,” Mustafa answered. I will ride immediately to the
Revenge
and bring back Prince Dariq’s men.”

Ali Hara shook his head. “They are so many and we are so few.”

“We must first tell Kamel and Yusuf what happened,” Mustafa whispered. “Perhaps Kamel knows a way into the dungeons that we do not.”

Skipping from rooftop to rooftop, the two men eased over the wall and made their way to a dark alley near the seraglio, where the two men awaited with the horses.

“Where are they?” Kamel asked when he realized that Mustafa and Ali Hara were alone.

“We were betrayed,” Mustafa spat.

“By whom?”

“That is what I would like to know.”

“Do not glare at me like that,” Kamel warned. “Think you I would betray our prince?”

“I know not what to think,” Mustafa growled.

“Perhaps someone overheard our plans,” suggested Ali Hara.

“Umma,” Kamel speculated. “Either she or Hetice. I must return to the harem immediately.”

“Is that wise?” Mustafa questioned.

“To my knowledge, my involvement in Lady Willow’s foiled escape is unknown. Most likely, Ali Hara was overheard speaking with Lady Willow in her chamber. Was my name mentioned during your conversation with Lady Willow, Ali Hara?”

Ali Hara thought back over his conversation with Willow. “Aye, but perhaps the informer didn’t hear or had already
left. Your name was mentioned but once at the end of our conversation.”

Kamel frowned. “Nevertheless, I must return. Mustafa will need someone inside the seraglio to keep him informed.”

“It would help,” Mustafa concurred. “But not if it places your own life in jeopardy.”

Kamel laughed. “Ibrahim would not think a eunuch bold enough to take part in such a plan. Leave word with Hassan, and I will do the same. Pray Allah that we can find a way to save Prince Dariq and his lady.”

Then they parted.

Chapter Eighteen

Ibrahim left the dungeon and immediately summoned Kamel. There were many unanswered question about Willow’s escape that needed explaining … questions only Kamel could answer.

“You summoned me, master?” Kamel asked, making his obeisance before the sultan.

“How did Ali Hara arrange meetings between Lady Willow and my brother without your knowing?” Ibrahim barked. “You are supposed to know everything that takes place in the harem, yet I only heard of this plot from Lady Umma.”

“There is a great deal of intrigue taking place in the harem, master,” Kamel explained. “Had the Lady Umma come to me with her suspicions, I would have taken steps to stop the meetings and informed you of Prince Dariq’s presence in Istanbul. But she chose to bypass my authority.”

Ibrahim stared at Kamel a full minute, as if trying to discern the veracity of the eunuch’s words. “You have never lied to me before, so I will accept your explanation.
I caution you, however, to exert more control. Thanks to Lady Umma, Prince Dariq is now in my dungeon. He will be executed in the city square two days hence. As for the Lady Willow, my stableman will claim her as his concubine after she watches her lover die.” He waved his hand. “You are dismissed.”

Kamel hurried off. He had to get word to Mustafa immediately, though he feared there was little the man could do to save the prince. He tapped his chin, a sly smile curving his lips. What if the citizens of Istanbul could be provoked into rioting against Prince Dariq’s execution?

It hadn’t taken long for Ibrahim to decide that Dariq should be beheaded, and he felt justified in holding a public execution. Dariq was a brigand, a pirate who had attacked his ships and disrupted shipping and naval operations. In Ibrahim’s opinion, the world would be a better place without him.

The Grand Vizier, when told of Prince Dariq’s fate, was swift to voice his opposition.

“My lord Sultan,” Selim Pasha said, “executing your brother in public is not a wise decision. Your people hold him in great esteem.”

Ibrahim fixed him with a quelling glare. “I cannot afford to let him live. His popularity empowers him.”

“Precisely.” Selim Pasha nodded. “He is considered a folk hero by your people for escaping your assassination plot. Holding a public execution could provoke a rebellion.”

Ibrahim silenced him with a slice of his hand. “You are too soft, Selim. My people fear me too much to rise against me.” He pinned Selim with a hard glare. “If you refuse to obey me, you can be replaced. If you value your
life, I suggest that you make arrangements for a public execution. Have I made myself clear?”

Selim Pasha bowed to Ibrahim’s wishes. “Very clear, my lord. Your brother will be beheaded according to your direction.”

“Post notices,” Ibrahim ordered. “A public display will affirm my authority over my subjects and make them aware of my power.”

Selim Pasha bowed himself out of the chamber, leaving Ibrahim feeling highly pleased with himself. At last! He’d waited a long time to end Dariq’s threat to his power. He couldn’t wait to see his brother’s expression when he was informed that he had but two days left to draw breath. In fact, he decided to do the honors himself.

Dariq sat glumly in the rank straw that served as his bed, wishing he could hold Willow in his arms one last time. Though he refrained from telling Willow, Dariq knew he would die soon. He had lived in the seraglio all of his life and knew of no way out of the dungeon other than the one by which they had entered; escape was virtually impossible.

At least he and Willow could communicate, but what did one say when there was no hope left? All he could do was tell her he loved her and encourage her to be brave, for she would live even if he would not.

“I hear footsteps!” Willow hissed through the bars.

Probably my executioner
, Dariq thought. The footsteps stopped outside his cell. He rose lethargically and moved to the door.

“To what do I owe this visit, brother?” Dariq drawled when he recognized Ibrahim in the dim light.

“I have come to tell you that you have but two days to
repent of your sins,” Ibrahim gloated. “Piracy is punishable by death. You shall die a traitor’s death.”

A small cry came from Willow’s cell.

Dariq found the courage to laugh.

Obviously, it wasn’t the response Ibrahim expected. “How can you laugh in the face of death?”

“I find it quite amusing. Even if I weren’t a pirate, you would find an excuse to end my life.”

“So I would, but you are an outlaw and thus made the decision easy for me. In two days, you will be taken to the city square, where you will be executed. I hope you are not too fond of your head. There is no escape this time, brother dear. You have plundered your last ship.”

Turning on his heel, he stalked away.

“Do not lose hope,” Willow called to Dariq. “Mustafa will bring the men from your ship.”

Dariq sighed. “ ’Tis over for me. There aren’t enough men aboard my ship to attempt a rescue.”

“The execution is to be public; perhaps your men can rescue you while a crowd is gathered to watch. There are all manner of things Mustafa can do to save your life.”

“Do not get your hopes up, my love. You must accept the inevitable. I have.”

“I refuse to accept defeat,” Willow cried. “Neither should you.”

Dariq smiled into the darkness. How dearly he loved his feisty Englishwoman. If she still harbored hope, so should he.

“You are right, my love. Where there’s life, there’s hope. I shall not accept defeat until the moment my head is separated from my body. Mustafa is naught if not resourceful. Perhaps God will show him a way to save us.”

* * *

Willow’s words proved prophetic. Early the next morning the Grand Vizier rushed into Ibrahim’s bedchamber unannounced, his face pale and his robes askew.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ibrahim roared as he rolled away from Umma, his favorite concubine.

“Three English ships entered the harbor yesterday,” Selim Pasha panted. “The Marquis of Bramston arrived at the seraglio with an armed escort just moments ago. He requests an audience in the name of Queen Elizabeth.” He glanced pointedly at Umma.

Ibrahim shoved Umma from his bed and pointed toward the door. Umma pulled on her discarded caftan and made a hasty exit.

Ibrahim rose and pulled on a robe. “You may speak freely, Selim.”

“The port master thought the ships were here to take on provisions, so he didn’t bother to notify you of their arrival.”

Ibrahim stroked his bearded chin. “What do you suppose the English queen wants with me?”

Selim Pasha shrugged. “There is only one way to find out, my lord. It wouldn’t be wise to keep His Lordship waiting.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the reception chamber, but I think a private meeting would be best. England is a powerful nation, with the most powerful navy in the world. It would not do to rile the queen or her emissary. Our troops are too far-flung at this time to invite war with England.”

“Very well, I shall grant Lord Bramston an audience. Escort him to my private audience room in thirty minutes. I wish to dress and make myself presentable first.”

A half hour later, groomed and dressed in royal robes, Ibrahim was waiting in his private audience room when
Selim escorted a distinguished-looking gentleman with graying hair into the chamber. The marquis carried himself with proud nobility that lent credit to his title. He bowed slightly, his sharp green eyes wary.

“As your Grand Vizier probably told you, my lord Sultan, I am the Marquis of Bramston.”

“Indeed,” Ibrahim replied. “We seldom see British navy ships in our harbor, my lord. Is your mission a peaceful one?”

“That depends,” Bramston challenged. He paused for effect. “I am going to speak frankly, Majesty. I have come for my daughter. She was carried off my ship by pirates. It has taken many months to trace Willow, but I have good reason to believe you purchased her for your harem.”

Ibrahim’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think your daughter is here?”

“I traced her to a slave market in Algiers and spoke to the slave master who sold her to your agent. I have no doubt that Willow is here, and I want her returned to me.”

“Do I detect a threat in your tone, Lord Bramston?” Ibrahim asked harshly.

Bramston appeared unruffled. “Take it however you like. Just remember, two English warships besides my own
Fairwind
have their cannon trained on your city. The guns can do considerable damage should you deny my simple request.”

“Your daughter never reached Istanbul,” Ibrahim lied.

“My lord,” Selim Pasha whispered in Ibrahim’s ear. “Perhaps you should honor the marquis’s request. The warships each carry forty guns. They could do considerable damage to our city, even reaching the seraglio. Our own navy has been seriously decimated by your brother, and the bulk of our army is otherwise engaged.”

“Do you suppose His Lordship will be pleased when he learns his daughter currently resides in my dungeon?”

“Of a certainty he will not be happy. But the lady has not been harmed.”

A sly look came over Ibrahim’s face. “Perhaps we can place the blame on Prince Dariq. He did hold Lady Willow hostage and made her his whore before she reached Istanbul.”

“The English do not condone fratricide.”

“I did what had to be done to secure the sultanate for my own heirs,” Ibrahim replied.

“Regardless, we cannot afford war with England. I believe that Lord Bramston will be so happy to get his daughter back, he will forgive your treatment of her. Perhaps the subject of her incarceration in your dungeon won’t even come up until both father and daughter have left our waters.”

“So be it,” Ibrahim murmured.

Bramston stood at ease while Ibrahim and his Grand Vizier spoke in hushed tones. He believed the sultan had no choice but to release Willow. Bramston had the full support of Queen Elizabeth, and knew she would approve of whatever he deemed necessary to retrieve Willow.

Finally Ibrahim turned back to Bramston. “Very well, my lord, I admit I purchased your daughter for my harem, but she was never summoned to my bed.”

Bramston snorted, his scorn apparent. “Bring her to me immediately.”

“She will be brought to you, but not immediately. Will you accept my hospitality and join me in a light repast?”

Bramston began to sputter. “Is this a trick? If it is, I promise you will regret it.”

“Nay,” Ibrahim protested. “Selim Pasha will fetch Lady
Willow, but she will wish to bathe and dress herself appropriately for your reunion. You will see for yourself how well she has been treated.

“Come, my lord,” he said, rising. “We shall retire to my inner chamber while Selim fetches your daughter.”

Willow sat slumped on the bench, her back resting against the damp wall. A tray of congealing food sat on the table. Food did not interest her.

Tomorrow Dariq would die, and her life as she knew it would die with him. The undeniable truth of their fate sent her into deep depression.

Willow realized she had been overly optimistic to expect Mustafa and Ali Hara to be of any help. There was little they could do. Despite that knowledge, she still harbored dreams of escape.

The sound of footsteps brought Willow’s desperate thoughts to a halt.

“Dariq, someone is coming! What do you suppose they want this timer?”

“Probably my head,” Dariq muttered.

Shock slammed through Willow. “No! Not yet. Please God, not yet.”

“ ’Tis Selim Pasha,” Dariq said.

The Grand Vizier appeared in the outer chamber accompanied by two janizaries. He walked directly to Willow’s cell, produced a key and opened the door.

“Come with me, lady.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“The sultan has decided to spare you. He intends to return you to your family.”

Willow found Selim’s words so difficult to believe that she asked him to repeat them. She was silent a full minute after he obliged, then gave a scream of joy.

“Willow! What’s happening?” Dariq called out.

“The sultan is sending me home to my family!” she cried. “We are free!”

“Nay, lady, only you are free to go. Prince Dariq’s death sentence still stands.”

Happiness drained from Willow, leaving her white and shaken. Why she and not Dariq?

“No, that cannot be!” she cried, storming from the cell. “I refuse to leave without Dariq.”

“Willow, love, you must go. You have your whole life ahead of you in England.”

“I have no life without you,” Willow vowed. “This cannot be the end. I will not allow it.”

She reached through the bars to Dariq. He clasped her hands and brought them to his lips. “Go and be happy, love.” Then he released her and stepped back.

She clung to the bars. It took both guards to pry her loose and drag her away.

Minutes later, Willow was astounded to find herself back in the harem. Selim placed her in Kamel’s care and took his leave at the door. When she saw Kamel, she burst into tears.

“Do not cry, lady,” Kamel cajoled. “You are free. Rejoice in your good fortune.”

“How can I rejoice when Dariq’s life will end tomorrow?”

“Perhaps all is not lost,” Kamel whispered.

Willow’s tears ceased immediately. “What are you saying? Does Mustafa have plans to rescue Dariq?”

“I cannot say for sure, but I would not discount his cunning. He knows the prince is to be executed tomorrow in the city square. If Allah is kind, Mustafa will find a way to rescue our prince.”

“Why have I been set free?”

“I know not. I was instructed to see that you are bathed and dressed appropriately. The sultan will summon you when he is ready for you.” He wrinkled his nose. “Come, lady, you are in great need of a bath.”

Willow followed Kamel to the
hammam
, her mind working furiously. Why was she allowed to go while Dariq still languished in the dungeon under a death sentence? What had provoked Ibrahim’s change of heart where she was concerned?

“What are you doing back here?”

Willow groaned. The last person she wanted to see was Umma. “Apparently, the sultan had a change of heart,” Willow replied.