On a Long Ago Night by Susan Sizemore Read Free Book Online Page B

of
    wealthy captives. Instilling fear was important in those
    who were used to power and freedom. Fear was very
    effective in coercing the largest possible ransom to be
    delivered in the shortest possible time. If fear and
    humiliation proved ineffective, there were other ways.
    "It is as Ibrahim Rais wishes." He spoke in Turkish
    this time. He was not proficient in the language of the
    Ottomans, but could manage that much.
    "I do not think I like your Ibrahim Rais," she
    responded, in far better Turkish than Diego's.
    Her facility with languages had him practically
    dancing with delight, but he showed nothing. He switched
    back to Spanish. After all these years among the Barbary
    corsairs it was still the tongue he was most comfortable
    with, the one he thought and dreamed in. The one he
    prayed in, and now those prayers were close to being
    answered. If he moved with caution.
    "Believe me, lady," he informed her, "when I tell you
    that you will know worse punishment than being chained
    if you cross Ibrahim Rais. Those who cross my master
    suffer for their mistakes." He laughed, a soft, dangerous
    sound. "If you cross me I will make the punishment very
    personal. Am I understood?"
    It was the standard speech given to get prisoners to
    cooperate. It was also the truth. He should have gained
    satisfaction when the girl's already pale complexion
    blanched a dead white with fear and she swayed forward
    in reaction. Instead he rushed to her side, lifted her off
    her feet before she could fall, and set her down gently in
    his own deep-cushioned seat.
    "I'm not afraid for myself." She seemed to be
    reassuring herself as she whispered the words in her
    native language. He gave no clue that he understood
    English. Instead, he poured her a cup of water in a blue
    porcelain cup, held it to her lips, and made her drink it
    down, knowing how refreshing it would be after the
    brackish ration Ibrahim Rais allowed to be doled out to
    prisoners.
    He touched her moistened lips once he'd put the cup
    down, and found that he was kneeling in front of her. He
    touched her cheek with the back of his hand, then pushed
    a fall of bright hair from her face. Her skin was so soft,
    as were the silky curls that clung to his fingers. She took
    no notice of these liberties but stared past his shoulder,
    perhaps at the illusion of freedom offered by the blue sky
    and sunlit sea framed by the cabin's small window. His
    impulse was to kiss her, to taste her lips to see if that
    would get her attention.
    He smiled. Oh, yes, if he touched her in the ways he
    knew how to pleasure a woman, she would certainly be
    aware of him. She might even forget the fear she told
    herself was for another. He could make her feel for
    herself. He could make her forget her beloved Derrick,
    and he would take great pleasure in it.
    He took her face gently between his hands. His
    thumbs slowly stroked a long, sensuous line down her
    throat. He felt her shiver, and waited until her gaze
    shifted to his face and her lips parted before he leaned
    forward.
    Only to drop his hands to his sides as he shot
    abruptly to his feet. "What I want from you is not mine to
    take." He turned his back on her as he spoke. The words
    came out a low, rasped whisper that he prayed she didn't
    hear. The need he felt for this woman was strong and
    basic, a sudden storm that threatened to overwhelm his
    careful planning. Diego scrubbed his hands over his face,
    fought to banish the fire from his blood, and made himself
    think of Malaga, of the woman he hoped waited there,
    and what he must do to get safely home to her. Duty came
    first, not desire.
    He stared out the window, at the sea and the sky,
    and shared the Englishwoman's yearning for freedom,
    multiplied by eight. "It has been so many years." He
    heard the faint jingle of chains and the rustle of fine
    fabric as she stood. He turned back to her. "Too many
    years." Her cheeks flamed a bright pink; she would never
    be able to hide her emotions with