The Pirate Prince by Connie Mason Read Free Book Online

hand lifted her chin to receive his kiss. Then his mouth clamped down over hers.
    She tasted sweet, her natural scent deliciously arousing. Through the heavy canvas fabric they both wore he could feel her heat, feel his own arousal respond to it. He was tempted to throw caution to the wind, carry her back to the cabin and teach her the meaning of pleasure.
    His hands found her breasts, so perfect against his palms that he could not resist gently kneading the tender mounds. He heard her breath catch and drank deeply from her mouth, his tongue searching out her sweetness. And he tasted heaven.
    “A lovély evening, is it not, my lord?” The voice came from behind him.
    Mustafa!
    Dariq ended the kiss abruptly and pushed Willow away. “What are you doing here, Mustafa?” he asked in their language. “It is not your watch.”
    “I am admiring the beauty of the night, just as you are.” His voice was ripe with censure. “What you are doing is not wise, my friend.”
    “You are right, of course. Perhaps you should escort Lady Willow on her walk. I cannot be trusted.”
    He turned to Willow. “I am needed elsewhere. Mustafawill accompany you until you are tired and wish to return to your cabin.”
    “But I cannot talk to him,” Willow protested. “I do not speak his language.”
    “ ’Twas exercise you wanted, not conversation,” Dariq growled. He walked away and was quickly swallowed by the darkness.
    Willow sent Mustafa an uncertain look and continued her stroll. Mustafa trailed behind, his disapproving silence mute testimony to his low opinion of her. After several turns around the deck, she returned to her cabin, no longer as excited about taking the air as she had been.
    During the following days, Willow saw little of Prince Dariq. She was asleep when he returned to the cabin at night, and he was gone in the morning before she awakened. Mustafa arrived promptly after dark each day to escort her on deck. Being unable to converse with anyone but Dariq made her life extremely boring. In fact, Willow found it intolerable and decided to complain to Dariq.
    One day she caught a glimpse of him at the wheel during her evening walk. When she headed in his direction, Mustafa grunted a warning, but she ignored him. Before he could stop her, she climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck to confront the elusive pirate. He looked up and scowled at her.
    “Can’t you control her?” Dariq said to Mustafa in Turkish.
    “No more than you could,” Mustafa answered.
    “Very well, I will speak to her.”
    He turned his gaze to Willow. “You wish to speak with me?”
    “I most certainly do. I find my situation intolerable.”
    Dariq’s dark brows lifted. “Whatever do you mean? Are you not well fed? Are you not treated with courtesy?”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Then you have naught to complain about.”
    “On the contrary, my lord pirate,” Willow sniffed. “I suffer from lack of human contact and lively conversation. No one except you understands or speaks English or French. Am I your prisoner or your guest?”
    “My guest, of course. No harm will come to you in my care.”
    “Then treat me like a guest. Since I have no maid or companion, the least you could do is talk to me.”
    “You do not know what you are asking,” Dariq warned.
    She squared her shoulders. “I am asking to be treated like a human being. I have never”—she swallowed the lump forming in her throat—“felt so alone in my entire life.”
    “You will have plenty of company in Ibrahim’s harem. You will be surrounded by women.”
    “No! I will fight that fate with my dying breath.”
    Dariq stared at her, his eyes opaque, unreadable. “If everything goes as planned, you
will
become Ibrahim’s concubine, perhaps even his wife. However, I understand why you feel isolated. It will be the same in the harem if you cannot understand or speak Turkish. Starting tomorrow, I will endeavor to teach you the language.”
    Willow felt as if she had won a small