Prince Halil was equally magnificent in striped pants of white silk and silver brocade, a long, open matching coat with a white silk shirt. He wore a little cloth-of-silver turban with a peacock feather sprouting from a large tiger’s eye. He stood next to his mother, his hand upon the gold scimitar given him by his brother, Murad. The royal Ottoman couple were protectively surrounded by their slaves, the woman Iris, and a half a dozen prime, young black fighting eunuchs.
Because of his two royal passengers and also because of the pitiful state of the ship, Captain Hassan surrendered immediately to the obvious disappointment of the pirate crew who were spoiling for a fight. The pirate captain stood out easily among his men. He was a tall blond giant with a short, dark gold beard. He wore white pantaloons sashed in black silk. His bare chest was covered with a mat of tight gold curls. He was sun-bronzed, very muscular, and carried a beautiful gold scimitar in his hand. His feet were shod in knee-length boots of softest leather, with gold designs stamped on them.
At his order, Captain Hassan and his three officers were lined up and forced to their knees. At a nod from their captain, four pirates stepped forward, quickly strangled their unfortunate prisoners, and then threw the bodies overboard.
The ship was now deathly quiet. The blond giant turned slowly and looked over the assembled crew of The Prince Halil. “I am Alexander the Great,” his deep voice boomed. “I sail out of Phocaea. I offer you a fair choice. Join me, or die as your captain and his officers died.”
“We join you!” the Ottoman sailors shouted with one voice.
Alexander the Great now turned to Theadora and her son. Instantly the black eunuchs closed ranks and assumed a defensive position about the prince and his mother. “No!” she commanded them. They stepped aside, allowing the pirate captain a clear passage to her. He approached her and, for a moment he and Theadora stood silently, gauging one another. He had, she noted, eyes the color of a fine aquamarine-a clear blue-green.
Reaching out, he fingered the ruby necklace. Then he ripped it from her neck. All the while his blue eyes never left her violet eyes. Swiftly he tore the veil from her face, but she did not flinch. He sighed. Flinging the ruby necklace to the deck, he said, “One look at your beautiful face, my exquisite one, has rendered the jewels worthless. Is the rest of you as incomparably fair?” His hand went to the high neck of her brocade robe, and then it was she who spoke.
“I am Princess Theadora of Bursa, wife to Sultan Orkhan, sister to the emperor and empress of Byzantium. The child is the sultan’s and my son, Prince Halil. Unharmed, we should bring you a great fortune. But if you continue to make extravagant gestures-” She glanced first toward the necklace on the deck, and then down to his hand, which still held her gown, “you could easily end your days a poor man.”
His eyes swept admiringly over her and it seemed he was weighing her words. Then he laughed. “What a pity I value gold so highly, beauty. I should have enjoyed teaching you how to be a real woman.” He laughed again as the color flooded her face. “I must transfer you to my ship,” he continued, “but you and your party will be safe, my lady. We will be in Phocaea by nightfall, and then I will house you in my palace until your ransom is paid.” His big hand then moved from her neckline to cup her chin. Shaking his head, he sighed. “Keep yourself veiled, madame, or I may regret my practical nature. I already feel myself growing reckless.”
He turned abruptly away from her and began calling out orders. The Prince Halil was to be sailed into Phocaea by a skeleton crew where it would be repaired and join the pirate navy. Its crew and galley slaves would be dispersed among other ships once they arrived in Phocaea. Theadora and her party were helped aboard the pirate vessel and taken to the captain’s cabin, where they would remain until they reached their destination that night. Still exhausted from the previous night, Theadora made herself comfortable on the captain’s bed with Halil for company. Iris guarded the door while the princess and her son slept.
In the very late afternoon they reached the pirate city of Phocaea, and Alexander sent for a barge to transport his captives to his palace. It was located on the sea some two miles from the city. Sitting amid the velvet and silk cushions of the luxurious vessel with her captor Theadora learned that he was the younger son of a Greek nobleman and therefore forced to make his own way in life. Since his youth he had loved the sea and had turned to it for what was proving a most rewarding living.
His wife, a childhood sweetheart, was dead now. He had not remarried, but rather kept a harem of women in the Eastern way. He assured Theadora that she would not be cloistered. She would be free to roam the grounds of his estate, providing she gave him her word that she would not try to escape. Theadora gave it. Had she been alone she would not have acquiesced so easily, but she had Halil and Iris to consider.
As if he read her thoughts he inclined his head toward her son. “I am glad they are with you, beauty. You are too lovely to have to be caged.”
“Do you read minds also, pirate?”
“Sometimes.” Then in a lower voice. “You are too lovely to belong to an old man, beauty. If you had a lusty young man between your legs it might take the sadness from your eyes.”
She flushed crimson and said, in a soft, angry voice, “You forget yourself, pirate!”
The aquamarine eyes laughed at her outrage, and the man’s mouth mocked her. “My lineage is almost as good as yours, princess. Certainly the younger son of a Greek noble is equal to the younger daughter of a Greek usurper.”
Her hand flashed out, leaving its imprint on his cheek. But before she could hit him again he caught her by the wrist and held the hand in a firm grasp. Fortunately, Iris and Halil were too interested in the sights of the busy pirate harbor to witness the exchange between Theadora and Alexander. Slowly, the pirate captain turned Theadora’s hand palm upward and, holding her startled glance with his, placed a burning kiss in the center of the soft flesh.
“Madame,” his voice was dangerously low, “you have not yet been ransomed. Another man might fear to take what is the sultan’s, but I do not. And who would know if I did?”
The kiss had sent an almost painful ache through her. Now, white with shock, she whispered shakily, “You would not dare!”
He smiled his slow, mocking smile. “The idea is beginning to tempt me, beauty.”
The barge bumped against the side of the marble quay, and Alexander leapt out to help tie it to his pier. Well-trained slaves appeared to help Theadora and her party from the boat and led her to her quarters. The royal party had three spacious rooms with a private bath and a terraced garden, which faced west over the blue sea. A sweet-faced slavegirl showed Theadora a wardrobe filled with her clothes, brought from the ship. Halil and Iris found that their possessions had been brought as well.
“The master does not steal from his guests,” said the slavegirl primly, and Theadora bit back an urge to laugh.
They did not see Alexander again that day. A well-cooked meal accompanied by an excellent wine was served to them. After the ordeal of the storm they all sought their beds early.
Theadora awoke in the night to find Alexander standing over her bed. In the moonlight that poured through the windows she could see the desire on his face. She moved to turn her naked body from his sight and trembled when he said, “I know you are awake, beauty.”