All the Sweet Tomorrows (49 page)

Turkhan had laughed, a deep velvet sound, the sound of a woman used to getting her own way. “Do you know to whom you say never, Ashur? I think you do not or you would not be so bold. I will therefore forgive you your mistake, and tell you who I am. I am the daughter of Sultan Selim II of the Ottoman Empire, defender of the true faith and overlord of this city.”

“I don’t give a damn who your father is,” Niall had shouted at her. “I won’t be your stud, woman! I’m an Irishman, not a prize stallion!”

Her eyes had narrowed with annoyance. “Whoever you
were
, my beautiful Ashur, you
are
no longer. Whatever was is no longer. Your only reality is what you are now, and that is Ashur, a slave in the harem of Princess Turkhan. Your goal is to please me, your mistress; and Ashur, you
will
please me, I can promise you.
You will please me.”

It gave Niall Burke small satisfaction to know that so far he had not really pleased her. She was beautiful, he had to admit.
By any culture’s standards she would have been considered beautiful. She was not a tall woman, standing barely over five feet in height; but she appeared taller, for she had a regal bearing along with long and slender arms and legs. She held her beautiful head high, her flame-colored hair cut straight across her forehead, hanging turned under just below her shoulders. She had an oval face with an aristocratic nose, a lush red mouth, and almond-shaped eyes fringed in thick black lashes that were the amber gold of a lioness. Her body was slim and lithe like a boy’s, except for large, marvelous breasts that thrust proudly from her chest.

He had learned in the year he had been imprisoned in her palace that she was a well-educated and an intelligent woman; but she was proud and stubborn, too. Despite his constant refusals, despite the fact that every time they made love she had to force him to do it, in spite of his atrocious behavior, she had made him her favorite along with the boy, Hamal, who had been in her harem some three years, and was genuinely in love with her.

That was an interesting situation, Niall thought as he lay awaiting Turkhan. Hamal had told him that he had been born a free man also, but that his older brother, a wealthy merchant, had sold him to the princess. Hamal didn’t seem to mind at all, as he cared for his mistress and she obviously cared for him. Niall smiled to himself. Whether Turkhan realized it or not, the boy manipulated her to suit himself; but unfortunately, he had not been able to help Niall. The princess had determined that Niall was to father a child on her; but he was equally determined that she would not have his child. No son of his was going to be mothered and raised by
her
. Niall had rarely resorted to prayer in his entire lifetime, but he prayed now that the flame-haired bitch who held him captive would not conceive his child. So far his prayers had been heard.

Only Skye had ever given him children, his darling little daughter, Deirdre, and his only son, Padraic. Dear God, the lad had barely been born when he had last ridden off from Burke Castle. What did the boy look like now, Niall wondered, and Deirdre, too. Had Skye mourned him long? Was she still mourning him? Had she remarried? She had never been a woman to be without a man for a long time. He wondered whose wife his wife was now? The thought of her with any other man maddened him beyond reason.

Dear God, Claire O’Flaherty had had her revenge on them all!
If he ever got free of Fez, he was going to search the she-witch out himself, and kill her once and for all. He could yet remember awakening aboard a rocking ship to find her standing over him, gloating. He hadn’t understood why she was there, or even how she had gotten there, but he knew he was not dreaming. Before he had even had a chance to question her, he had slipped back into an unconscious state.

“You look so fierce, my beautiful Ashur,” Turkhan murmured as she slid onto the bed next to him. Her little white hands began to slide across his body, caressing and seeking the sensitive places that would arouse him. “What is it you think of, my beautiful one?”

“I think of deceit, and of revenge, my Princess,” he answered her.

Turkhan shivered at the dark depths in his eyes. “I command you to think of passion instead,” she said.

Niall’s harsh laughter rebounded off the walls. “It shall, of course, be as you command, my Princess,” he answered her mockingly.

“Oh, Ashur,” Turkhan whispered, allowing her vulnerability to show for just a brief moment, “is it really so difficult to love me?” She lay her sleek head on his chest, and it occurred to Niall that he had been going about this thing all wrong.

For months he had been fighting her, and it had gained him nothing. What a fool he had been! If he had appeared to give in to her demands from the start he might have gained her trust, and escaped months ago. Instead he had behaved like a violated virgin. What an idiot he was! Skye had always accused him of not seeing the overall picture, of being impulsive and heedless of the havoc his quick actions wrought.

His mind snapped back to the present. Turkhan, having stimulated his manhood to erection, was preparing to mount him as she always did. “Unchain me, my Princess,” he said quietly. “I think it is time I showed you how an Irishman makes love to his woman.”

She looked suspiciously at him. “What game is this you play with me, Ashur?”

“Are you afraid, my Princess?” was his slightly mocking reply.

Her pale skin flushed with the open challenge, and she licked her lips. For months she had been forced to compel his participation, and although he claimed to be the father of children, she could not conceive. She had filled him with opiates and hashish
and other well-known aphrodisiacs to insure his potency. Perhaps the secret lay in his being willing.

“Don’t you want to feel my arms about you, Turkhan?” he murmured gently. “Unchain me, lass.”

The tone of his voice made her shiver openly, and Niall knew that he had won. Slowly Turkhan arose from the wide couch, walked across the room, and opened a small carved ebony box. Removing the key from the box, she returned to the couch and unlocked the four manacles that had held him prisoner. While she returned the key to its hiding place, Niall Burke sat up, rubbed his wrists, and swung his long legs over the bed. Every movement he made felt exaggerated to him. It was always so after they fed him with the jellies, and the goblet. Still, he realized that he suddenly felt very good. His big body was burning with desire, his erection was yet quite firm, and now as his blue eyes swept over the beautiful and petite creature standing before him he had but one thought: to couple with her. It was what she wanted, and right now it was what he wanted as well.

Reaching out, he pulled her against him and bent low to find her lush mouth. “What an incredibly beautiful little bitch you are,” he said against her lips as he pressed teasing kisses against them; and Turkhan shivered again, her mind half fearful, half thrilled that he was at last yielding himself to her. Niall lifted her tiny frame up in his arms, and set her gently on the soft feather and down mattress, then joined her.

“Oh, love me, my beautiful Ashur!” she whispered frantically.

“I will love you, my Princess, but there is no great hurry. I promised you that I would show you how the men of my land love their women.” He leaned over her, his fingers brushing back her soft hair. “Do you want me, Turkhan?” he asked her.

His gentle touch was destroying her, Turkhan thought, but she could not help herself from gasping, “Yes, Ashur! Allah, yes, I want you!” His satisfied growl of laughter frankly frightened her, but she dared not move lest she break the spell and he revert to the sullen and angry man that he had been until just a few minutes earlier.

While she lay so still, her golden eyes lowered modestly, Niall took the opportunity to examine her closely. Her skin had the same texture and color of the milk-white roses that grew in her garden. He slid his hand across her flat belly, enjoying the softness, and heard her catch her breath. Niall smiled to himself. She was a hot little piece. He moved a hand up to fondle one of
her big, cone-shaped breasts, rolling the large coral nipple between his thumb and his forefinger. Turkhan moaned, and catching his head in her two tiny hands, she drew it down to her breasts. He laughed at her impatience, but nonetheless took the offered nipple in his mouth to suck upon it, worrying it faintly with his teeth, and sending tiny darts of delight through her entire body.

Turkhan couldn’t believe the pleasure that Niall was giving her. She had never allowed any man to take the lead when making love with her, and yet she suddenly realized that she didn’t want him any other way. Let Hamal, her little lamb, love her gently with tender touches and wailing Persian love songs. But Ashur! Allowed his own way, he was loving her with a fierceness she had never known, and she adored it!

He had now transferred his attentions to her other breast, and when he had finished with it he began kissing, nipping, and licking at her skin. Turkhan almost screamed with rapture, especially when his head dipped to the V between her legs and he began nuzzling at the secret of her womanhood. No man had ever kissed her
there
, or loved with his mouth the tiny pearl of her femininity. She wasn’t even sure that it was right, but she was now past caring and she didn’t want him to stop. Something strange and frightening and yet wonderful was happening to her. She felt a sudden tightness, then a swelling, and then an incredible burst of pleasure unlike anything she had ever felt before—and it was only the beginning of the delight. She was suddenly beneath him and he was filling her full with his great and pulsing manhood. Turkhan almost swooned with bliss, for never had she lain beneath a man. She had been told that a woman mounted the man, as that was the only way he might obtain pleasure. It was an incredible and magnificent experience. He was driving deep and fast inside her, and she began to moan, her flame-colored tresses whipping around her thrashing head as she lost control and her world dissolved about her. Turkhan arced her body upward to meet his thrusts. Her long nails raked his back, leaving bloody weals across it as a primitive scream exploded from her throat only to be stifled by his brutal kiss, which was the last thing she remembered before plummeting down into the raging darkness.

Regaining consciousness, she began to laugh softly with the irony. She had once told him pridefully that she should make a better lover of him than he was, but now Turkhan knew better. He had taken her where no man had ever taken her, and now she
knew that all these years she had been only half a woman, that before Ashur they had all cheated her. She rubbed her kiss-bruised lips gingerly and, opening her eyes, looked directly at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded of her.

“Because until just a little while ago, my beautiful Ashur, I did not know myself,” she answered him candidly.

He didn’t believe her. “You grew up in a harem,” he snorted scornfully, “surrounded by women, and you never knew the pleasure that can be between a man and a woman? They never told you?”

“I was sent from my father’s house when I was ten years old,” she said quietly. “My mother was a Circassian dancer in my father’s harem who just happened to catch his eye one time. That one time was enough to get her pregnant, but my mother was obviously not interesting enough to retain my father’s favor. He never called her to his couch again, and she died giving birth to me. I was given to one of the other women to nurse, but once it was no longer necessary that I have milk to survive I was left to myself. I was nobody’s child, Ashur. My grandmother, Khurrem, took an interest in me for a while, but as I grew they tell me I began to resemble Cyra Hafise, my father’s grandmother who had been my grandmother’s mortal enemy.

“When I was almost ten years old my father needed monies for his fleet, and word was sent to all the great cities of his empire. Fez responded so generously that my father’s curiosity was aroused. He was told that the largest contribution, indeed three quarters of what had come from the city, had been given by one Ali ibn Achmet. Further investigation revealed that Ali ibn Achmet was the city’s wealthiest merchant, an old man who had never married, but was very devout and extremely loyal. At my grandmother’s urging, my father decided to reward Ali ibn Achmet’s generosity and loyalty by presenting him with an Ottoman princess for a wife.

“The choice was left up to my grandmother, and she chose me, saying, ‘Although you look like the cursed Cyra Hafise, you are
my
granddaughter, and more like me in your actions than any of the others. This is your chance, little Turkhan, and I shall give you the best piece of advice I can. Be soft-spoken, appear meek, but never let
anyone
own you. This includes your husband, my child. Let no man truly own you. Amass all the wealth you can, and when the old man we send you to dies, be sure he has named you his only heir. Do whatever you must to insure that inheritance,
but gain it, for wealth is your guarantee of power, little Turkhan. Wealth, and your inviolate position as an Ottoman princess.’

“That, my Ashur, is the only thing I learned in my father’s harem. I learned nothing of love, or of women’s ways; but I consider what my grandmother, Khurrem, taught me the most valuable lesson I have ever learned in life.

“I never knew until tonight the real pleasure that can be between a man and a woman. This you have taught me, and if it never happens again at least I shall be content having known it once.”

My God
, Niall thought,
what a complex and sad woman she is
. “It can happen again, Turkhan, and it will,” he promised. “Shall I make it happen for you again, my Princess?” Leaning over her, he brushed her lips with his own, but all the while he was thinking that he had at last found a sure way to control her. A few nights of unending delights, and she would be
his
slave. Reaching out, he crushed one of her breasts in his hand while he murmured with hot breath in her small ear, “Answer me, Turkhan! Do you want the pleasure again?”

“Yes!” she whispered urgently. “Yes, my Ashur! I want it!”