Adora by Bertrice Small Read Free Book Online Page A

Cantacuzene paced restlessly. He would have more sons, but before he could take another noble wife he must make his position more secure. John Paleaologi must be disposed of, along with his snot-nosed offspring. Remarried elsewhere, Helena would forget. Perhaps he would offer her blonde beauty to Sultan Orkhan’s heir, Prince Suleiman.
    This thought reminded him of his youngest daughter, Thea. How old was she now? Thirteen? He thought so. Certainly old enough to be bedded, and to bear a child. He was going to need fresh military aid from the sultan—aid that was more likely to be given if Orkhan were enamored of his young wife. Especially a young wife who proclaimed her elderly husband’s virility with a belly full of new life.
    The girl was still within her convent, and the latest miniature he had of her showed a young creature beautiful enough to rouse a stone statue. Her only failing was that she had a mind. Mother Marie Josepha was forever writing him of the girl’s intellectual accomplishments. A pity she had not been a son. Well, he would write and instruct her to behave meekly, modestly, and quietly with her husband.
    He would also write to Orkhan tonight, reminding him that the marriage contract called for the consummation of the union when the girl was mature. She certainly was mature now. It meant, of course, that he would have to come up with the final third of Theadora’s dowry, and relinquish the fortress of Tzympe—but no matter. Opening the door to his private suite he summoned the monk who was his secretary.
    Several weeks later, in Bursa, Sultan Orkhan chuckled over the recently received correspondence from his fellow ruler and father-in-law. He was well aware of the reason behind the Byzantine’s sudden desire for his marriage to Theadora Cantacuzene to be consummated. John Cantacuzene was expecting another fight for his shaky throne and needed the Ottoman’s support. He offered his daughter’s virginity plus the rest of the gold from her dowry. Most important, he would finally turn over Tyzmpe to the Turks.
    Orkhan the Ottoman had grown sexually insatiable in his old age. Each night he was presented with a new and well-trained virgin. His appetite varied and it was rumored that he even occasionally amused himself with young boys. His young wife, Theadora, was a totally innocent girl. It would take months to train her so that she would be able to please her lord.
    But there was no time. Her father wanted her with child as proof of the consummation, and Orkhan wanted Tyzmpe and the remainder of her dowry gold. When great rulers plan together, matters can be arranged.
    The maiden’s moon cycle would be determined, and he would mate with her during her most fertile four days. He hoped her link with the moon would then be broken. If not, the process would be repeated again, and again—until the girl proved fruitful.
    He was not the least interested in Theadora. A political pawn, she had been forgotten and was now annoyingly thrust forward.
    He had experienced the emotion called love in his youth, with Nilufer, his second wife and the mother of his two favorite sons. Now that was all behind him. All that was left was the physical pleasures given him by the skilled, young slave girls and boys of his harem.
    He resented having to breed the maiden as a bull breeds a cow, and this resentment would probably communicate itself to Theadora. Perhaps the girl herself had encouraged her father to suggest this, in an effort to better her position. Well, he would see that she was treated with the respect due her rank. He would impregnate her as quickly as possible, and then he would have nothing further to do with her.
    And at the very moment Theadora Cantacuzene lay within the strong arms of Prince Murad. Their eyes adored one another. “I love you!” she said in a tremulous voice. “I love you!”
    “And I love you, my dove! Allah! How I love you!”
    “How long, my lord? How long must we wait before we dare