The Pirate Prince (Pirate's Booty Series, Book Five) (9 page)

They entered a large hall with a graceful marble staircase curving upward. An arch led into an enormous main room sumptuously furnished with gilded chairs and sofas of European style. The ceiling and walls were adorned with gold-encrusted stencils and medallions and the marble floor was covered with rich, Persian rugs of many colors. Her women moved around the room, cooing over all they saw. They were used to the richness of palaces, but none so fine as this. Everywhere Azara looked were treasures such as she’d never seen gathered all in one place.

“You are very wealthy,” she said in a low voice.

“Pirating is most profitable,” he said. “Especially as I’ve made sure to target my brother’s ships. If I cannot have the throne, at least I can enjoy some of its riches.”

“You hate your brother very much?” Azara felt emboldened to enquire.

Rajak’s face darkened and he met her gaze without flinching. “Yes, Azara, I hate my brother enough that one day I will kill him as he killed our father. Until that day comes, I take all I can that belongs to my brother, including you.”

Azara’s eyes widened at the implication of his words.

“Then I mean nothing to you except as part of your revenge against him?” She waited with mounting dread for his answer, praying it would not be as she feared.

“You’ve asked me a double-edged question, princess. When first I planned to kidnap you, I did so out of revenge, but things have changed now. Surely, I’ve made that clear to you?”

“Are you saying you love me then?” she asked softly. Was she asking too much from him? Though he spoke of taking her as his wife, was that still part of his vengeance against his brother? Was she nothing more to him than a pawn?

“Do you love me, Rajak?” she repeated urgently.

“Do you love me, Rajak?” a voice mocked cruelly.

Rajak spun around to confront the woman standing in the entrance. Seeing her up close, Azara was struck even more by her beauty. Her skin was pale-coffee colored, her eyes wide and slanted exotically. Her nose and mouth molded perfection and above it all was glossy, blue-black hair that fell to below her hips. Her impossibly slim body was garbed in a fine kumquat silk and her long graceful arms were adorned with rich gold bracelets. More jewels adorned her hands and ears.

“Kamilah. What are you doing here? How did you get inside?” Rajak demanded.

The woman smiled at him with spite, her black eyes flashing, her lips twisting in an ugly sneer.

“I came to see your new whore,” she said, sauntering into the room. For the first time, she looked at Azara and laughed, a harsh, derisive sound. “This is what you’ve turned me aside for?”

“I want you to leave. Now!” Rajak shouted.

She ignored him while she continued to regard Azara.

“You are very beautiful,” Kamilah acknowledged, “but you can never please him as I have done.”

“Kamilah,” Rajak said, taking hold of her shoulder and turning her to face him. “This is wrong. I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you, but it’s over between us. I told you that many weeks ago.”

“You didn’t mean it. You were angry with me,” she said, smiling at him as she caressed his face with one long, slim hand. The jewels on her fingers glinted with fiery lights.

Rajak caught hold of her hand and lowered it from his face. “You betrayed me,” he reminded her. “You proved yourself unworthy. I can never trust you again.”

“But you love me,” she wheedled beguilingly.

“I have never loved you,” he answered implacably.

Kamilah snatched her hand from his and slapped him across the cheek.

“I’ll leave you to your privacy,” Azara said stiffly, sick at heart that she’d witnessed such an intimate scene between Rajak and this beautiful woman.

“No,” Kamilah said, stepping in front of her. “I want you to stay and see how it is between Rajak and me. You will never be able to win him from me, because, despite what he says, he loves me and he always will.”

Rajak took hold of her shoulders and turned her toward the door. “You will leave, now. You shouldn’t have come here. It does no good.”

She shook herself free of him. “I have also come to reclaim my belongings,” she said, tossing her head.

Rajak looked at the servant who’d entered the room and stood waiting quietly in the midst of such chaos.

“She came to live here,” the servant explained, keeping his head bowed. “She said you had decreed it. I did not know what to do.”

“Now, you do,” Rajak said sharply. “Help her gather her things and see she’s taken back to Port Dauphin.” He turned back to Kamilah. “Do you still have the house I provided for you or have you sold it?”

“I have a better place to stay,” she said. “Boghos has offered me his home.”

“Boghos? Surely, you would not consider going with a man like him?” Rajak said, drawing his fine eyebrows together in a scowl.

“Are you jealous?” Kamilah asked the very thing Azara had wondered.

“You may go where you choose,” Rajak snapped and walked to the door. “Kalari!”

At once the handsome young man entered.

“I heard she was here and thought you might need me,” he explained to Rajak.

“Escort her back to Port Dauphin. I will send her belongings as soon as they’ve been gathered.” He turned back to Kamilah. “This is over, once and for all. Don’t approach me again, or I’ll have you exiled from the island.”

Kamilah raised her chin defiantly. “With Boghos, the lord of the island, I am protected from your threats,” she said and spat at him before flouncing from the room.

Rajak wiped away the spittle and turned to Azara, his eyes nearly black in his lingering fury.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, crossing to take her hands.

She pulled them away. “I’m glad I did. It has shown me a new side to you. One, that in my naiveté, I hadn’t suspected.”

“Don’t judge me too harshly,” he urged, “until you know all the facts.”

“Then tell me so I may understand what all this means.” Her gaze moved over his face.

She saw the anger, the male stubbornness that she’d often seen in her father. His silence confirmed her suspicions. He was a man and he ruled a world of his own making while she, as a mere woman, must accept what men decreed. The fact that she was a princess made no difference.

“I will trouble you no further,” she said, keeping her voice even and her head high. “Please have your servants show me to my rooms.”

Without waiting for his reply, she walked rapidly into the hall where her attendants and Rajak’s servants huddled, uncertain what to do. Azara was aware that he followed close behind. He escorted her to the bottom of the curving stairs and took her arm so she was forced to look at him.

“I’d planned a different homecoming,” he said, his voice ragged, his expression closed and guarded.

“So had I,” she answered and pulled away from him.

He motioned to one of his servants. A young woman stepped forward, offered a tentative smile and led the way up the beautiful staircase. Azara was well aware that Rajak stood at the bottom, watching them ascend, but she didn’t look back. Instead, she pulled her veil closer about her head to hide the tracks of tears down her cheeks.

Chapter Seven

A pleasant breeze blew from the balcony, cooling the spacious rooms and caressing the skin like a lover’s touch. Azara pushed the thought away and rose from the settee where she lounged. She hadn’t seen Rajak for nearly a week. She’d hope that he would summon her to fill his bed, for had he not planned that for her? Still, he’d remained aloof. And what would she have done, if he had? Refuse him? Would she be strong enough to do that? She wanted to think so, even while she longed for his touch. She wandered to the balcony and stared out at the tropical garden.

The sound of voice came to her, and she watched as Rajak stalked into the garden followed by another man. They conversed for several minutes in harsh, agitated tones. In an attempt to hear them better, Azara leaned over the balcony. Their words were still too quiet for her to make out until Rajak raised his voice in a final command. Abruptly, he turned toward the palace and, glancing up, found her watching him. He made no gesture nor did he call a greeting, but she felt his eyes burning into her very heart. Silently, he followed his guest inside.

Troubled, she left the balcony, no longer finding pleasure there and sat before her mirror, studying her face and hair for any imperfections. She was still as beautiful as she’d been when she’d left her home to go as a bride to the Mogul land. But that didn’t seem to matter to Rajak. He’d put her aside. Perhaps he planned to ransom her after all. His palace was sumptuous and surely cost a lot to maintain. She couldn’t blame him for wanting the money she would bring. But if that were so, why had he taken her virginity? Why had he claimed that one day she’d be his wife, and he would once again be the Mogul ruler of the Peacock Throne?

“What are your plans, princess?” Hestia whispered in her ear. Picking up a brush, she proceeded to brush Azara’s hair. “Do you wish me to send a message to your father or perhaps to your betrothed husband?”

“No,” Azara snapped, loathe to give up any final hope about Rajak.

“He doesn’t want you anymore,” Hestia said softly. “He hasn’t come to join you since we arrived. And that woman, bah. The servants tell me that he goes to the city to see her again as he did before.”

“I don’t believe it,” Azara said sharply. “You lie or your sources are not reliable. Leave me now.”

“You can’t ignore the truth,” Hestia said, turning away.

Her words lingered in the room long after the woman had left.

Malika came into the chambers. “You look very sad, Your Highness. Can I do something for you?”

“No, no one can,” Azara answered and threw herself across the bed to weep, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, anger and pride made her pound the pillows in frustration.

“Your Highness, what troubles you?” Malika asked gently.

Azara raised her head and glared at her favorite.

“Send Hestia to me,” she said harshly and flopped on her back to stare at the arched ceiling, while she plotted what she must do. She’d not be an obedient slave to Rajak’s whim. She’d make her own plans and carry them out as ruthlessly as Hasna had taught her.

“Your Highness?” Hestia entered the chamber as silent as always. She stood with her head lowered, her shoulders rounded in a facsimile of acquiescence, but her expression was sly and triumphant.

Azara rose from her bed and paced the room. “See if you can find someone to carry a message to the Mogul Shah.”

“You would not send one to your father?” Hestia asked in surprise.

“My father would take the stand that I am no longer his responsibility. He would simply refer the problem to Mohan. Why waste time for all that. Send a message directly to the shah. When he learns his brother has taken me, he will see it as an act of treason and will act at once.”

“Ah,” Hestia said with new respect. “You have learned to reason well.”

“Go at once,” Azara replied. “Go by horseback so you will be less noticeable to the servants. If you’re questioned, tell them I have sent you on an errand.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Hestia bowed and, with no sign of hesitation, left the room.

It occurred to Azara that Hestia had already made valuable contacts in the short time they’d been here. Obviously, she was no ordinary serving woman. Azara pushed away the swell of trepidation. She must trust her father and Hasna. In the strange world of intrigue, which ruled every court, every movement, they wouldn’t leave her to depend on a woman who was unreliable. She must trust her father’s wisdom.

But what of Rajak? Was she not to trust him? She had given herself to him too readily, believing she had no other choice, but she hadn’t been prepared for what happened to her heart. She clenched her fist against her stomach, willing away the emotional pain that was worse than any physical hurt she’d ever known. Was she falling in love with him? Hadn’t she halfway fallen in love with him when he came to negotiate for her as Mohan’s bride?

She remembered his fiery touch, the heat of his passion and she longed for him. Impatiently, she rose and paced her room. Malika and the other women came to attend her, but she gestured them away. Quietly, they left her, their faces troubled. Only Oma remained.