Bought for the Harem

‘Be careful, lady. I have only so much patience, and you walk a fine line. If I wished I could punish you.’

Harriet was silenced. She knew that she had risked punishment several times already. She had made the slave master fear her, but curses and insults would not sway this man. There was something harsh and commanding about him, something that made chills run down her spine—and yet when she looked into his eyes she almost believed that she could see compassion in their depths.

No, she must not allow herself to weaken. There was nothing soft or decent about this man. Kasim was a savage, a barbarian, and she despised him.

About the Author

ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk

Previous novels by the same author:

MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK

THE UNKNOWN HEIR

THE HOMELESS HEIRESS

THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY

A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE*

AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE*

THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE*

FORBIDDEN LADY†

THE LORD’S FORCED BRIDE†

THE PIRATE’S WILLING CAPTIVE†

HER DARK AND DANGEROUS LORD†

*A Season in Town trilogy †The Melford Dynasty

and in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal:

LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

COUNTERFEIT EARL

and in The Hellfire Mysteries:

AN IMPROPER COMPANION

A WEALTHY WIDOW

A WORTHY GENTLEMAN

BOUGHT

FOR THE HAREM

Anne Herries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Prologue

‘You know that you are as a son to me, Kasim?’

‘Yes, my lord.’ Kasim, councillor and adopted son of Caliph Kahlid bin Ossaman, inclined his head in assent. ‘I am honoured by your confidence in me.’

‘This is an assignment I would trust to no other, Kasim. Prince Hassan is very precious to me. He will soon be of the age to marry and I must find the right wife for him. He already has many beautiful women in his harem, but none of them are what is needed. Hassan will take my place when I die …’ The Caliph waved his hand as Kasim would have protested. ‘It is as Allah wills, my son. All men must die to take their place in Paradise. I shall not shrink from death when my time comes—but I would have my son secure. He needs a woman of both exceptional beauty and intelligence, but also spirit. She will produce his heir. His mother was such a woman and this is what I want for my son.’

Kasim looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Is there no one within the ranks of your fellow lords with a daughter that would fill your requirements? She at least would be a Muslim and trained in all the things she should know to fit her for her duties as the prince’s chief wife.’

The Caliph was silent for a moment. His eyes held a cold glitter as he looked at Kasim and his mouth formed a thin hard line. ‘If I chose a wife from one important family I should make an enemy of another. You know the jealousy of the tribal chiefs, Kasim. We constantly have to suppress uprisings and small rebellions amongst the chieftains of the north. My own wife came from the country that gave you birth and I wish for an English wife for my son.’

‘You wish me to buy a woman from the slave markets of Algiers?’ Kasim repeated the request to make certain he had heard correctly.

‘Yes, that is my wish. Choose wisely, my son. The price is immaterial. I want a jewel beyond price for Prince Hassan.’

For a moment, Kasim hesitated, then, ‘It shall be as you command.’

He bowed to his royal master and took five steps backward, before turning to leave the presence chamber. He was frowning as he made his way towards his own apartments in the palace. The Caliph treated him with respect and even affection. Kasim was a tall, handsome man with dark hair and deep blue eyes; he owed his position here to a man he knew to be ruthless and yet compassionate, wise and yet sometimes ruled by his ruthless nature. Kahlid was a just ruler of his province, which he held in subservience to the Sultan, but he gave no quarter to his enemies. To raise your hand against him and fail was to die. Kasim had recently returned from an expedition to crush a rebellious tribe to the north of the Caliph’s territory. He had done so efficiently and with as little wanton bloodshed as possible, but he knew that the prisoners the Janissaries had brought back would receive harsh punishment. There was nothing he could do to change that fact, and any interference would be frowned on. It was a part of the life he had chosen here and he must accept it.

However, he would not be around to see the punishments for he must leave as soon as he could to provision his ship. A request from the Caliph was an order. Kasim must find a bride for the young prince—and an English girl of exceptional beauty and intelligence.

It would not be easy to find the right woman. Kasim knew that he might need to spend many months searching for such a woman—if indeed it could be done.

Kasim understood the thinking behind his ruler’s request. To favour the daughter of one tribal chieftain would certainly cause jealousy and unrest. Yet something about this mission did not sit well with him. If it were possible he would have refused, but he had no choice—unless he wished to leave the palace and seek a new life.

He had risen high in the service of the Caliph and was already in possession of a considerable fortune. Kasim was aware of a restless need inside himself, a desire for something he could not name. A wry smile touched his mouth. He had left England under a shadow many years before. Fortune or Fate had brought him here after a period of hardship and suffering, and he would be a fool to question the life he had found as an honoured member of the Caliph’s household.

Chapter One

‘What is happening to us? Where are they taking us now?’

Lady Harriet Sefton-Jones looked at the young woman who clutched her arm so desperately, feeling a deep shaft of sympathy. Corsairs had captured their ship some weeks earlier and they had been kept in the hold for days, shivering and terrified. When the ship docked they were taken to a house somewhere in the busy port of Algiers. The men captured with them that terrible night were shackled with chains about their ankles, but at least she and her cousin, Marguerite, had been spared that fate. Once at the house she and her cousin had been cared for by an old woman, taken to bathe and given the apparel they were wearing now. The clothes were clean, but felt strange; they consisted of long narrow pantaloons that clung to the ankle and dark tunics that covered them from head to toe.

‘I am not sure, dearest,’ Harriet said in a low voice. They had been forbidden to talk by the man who accompanied them. ‘I think the corsair captain sold us to Ali Bin Ahmed, at least that is what I gathered from Miriam—but I do not know where we are going now.’

‘I couldn’t understand a word she said,’ Marguerite said tearfully. ‘If only we had stayed with the ship, Harriet. Father and Captain Richardson put us into the rowing boat with others in the hope of saving us, but …’ A shiver took her and she could not continue. ‘Do you think they were killed?’

Harriet did not answer immediately. Her uncle, Sir Harold Henley, and the brave young captain had last been seen fighting the horde of pirates who had boarded the ship during the night. The vessel had been becalmed for lack of wind and the lookout must have neglected his duty for they had been woken by Marguerite’s father and told they were being boarded by pirates. He had hurried the ladies from their cabin and sent them up on deck, where they were put into the boats with other passengers and crew. They had hoped to reach the shore while the corsairs were fighting for the ship, but the fierce pirates had come after the boat, perhaps because of the women.

Marguerite was beautiful and would be prized in the slave markets, which was in all probability where they were headed now. Harriet was older than her cousin, attractive in her own way with dark hair and soft eyes. She had studied languages with her father before his death just over a year previously and could speak French and Spanish fluently. She could also read in Arabic and Greek, and it was because she could recognise a smattering of various other languages that she had managed to communicate with the elderly woman who’d helped hold them captive, Miriam.

As yet Harriet had not told her cousin what she feared, because she had hoped she might be allowed to ransom both Marguerite and herself. She had tried to tell Miriam that she was willing to pay, but the woman just shook her head. Although she was apprehensive herself, Harriet had no intention of giving up. Sooner or later she was bound to come in contact with someone who would listen to her and not pretend they did not understand, as the corsair captain had when she pleaded with him and received a blow for her pains. The bruise on her cheek still hurt her, but it had not daunted her spirit.

She reached for her cousin’s hand. ‘Whatever happens, we must not be separated,’ she said. ‘Just do as I do and hold on to me even if they threaten us.’

‘Oh, Harriet …’ Marguerite’s eyes filled with tears. ‘If you had not accompanied Father and me to Spain, I should have been alone and I just could not bear it.’

‘I will not let them part us,’ Harriet vowed, holding tightly to the younger woman. ‘I promise that as long as I live I will do my best to protect you.’

‘I am so afraid …’

Harriet comforted her as best she could, knowing that amongst people who seemed ruthless and capable of any violence anything could happen. She saw the high metal fencing that surrounded the building to which they were being taken, her worst fears confirmed.

They were about to be sold in the slave market, as if they were beasts or chattels—and anyone could buy them.

Kasim wandered round the busy marketplace. It teamed with people of many nationalities; voices, harsh and shrill, assaulted his ears with perhaps a dozen different languages and dialects. He had visited the market every day for nearly two months looking for the special woman that the Caliph had requested him to find, but as yet he had seen none that would please his exacting master. There were many beautiful women to be found in the auctions that were held most days, but only one had been English in the past few weeks. She was already bearing a child and was neither as beautiful nor as clever as the Caliph required.

‘Will your highness attend the auction of Ali bin Ahmed this day, honourable lord?’

Kasim looked down into the impish face of the young slave boy, who was tugging at his sleeve. The lad was thin, dressed in filthy rags and smelled none too sweet, yet his heart was touched by something in the boy’s eyes. His life as Ali bin Ahmed’s whipping boy could not be easy.

‘Did your master send you to me, Yuri?’

‘Yes, gracious lord, master of the Caliph’s household and exalted one. Ali bin Ahmed told me he has heard that you are looking for a special woman.’

‘There is no need to call me by such titles,’ Kasim said with a wry twist of his lips. There was something about the lad that touched a chord in his memory, but he could not place it. No doubt it would come to him in time. ‘I am merely Kasim, servant to the Caliph. Tell me, does your master have a special woman in his compound?’

‘There is a woman of great beauty but she weeps all the time and clings to the other woman who I’ve named the hellcat,’ Yuri told him with a grimace. ‘I do not think they would interest you, lord.’

Kasim hid his smile for the lad amused him. His spirit and courage was remarkable and his eyes told of a wicked humour. ‘Tell me what is this woman like—the one of great beauty?’

‘She has hair like sunbeams, fine and silky, and it falls to the small of her back. Her eyes are blue as a summer sky and her mouth is pink and soft … but she clings to the hellcat and will not be parted from her. Even though my master threatened them with the whip, the hellcat would not let go of her. She faced him down and he grunted and left them together.’

‘Indeed?’ Now the smile tugged at the corner’s of Kasim’s mouth. ‘I am surprised that Ali has not had them separated before this.’

‘The hellcat told Ali that his privates would dry up and fall off if he dared to separate them and she said it in our own tongue, though she and the beautiful one are both from the land called England. My master is scared of her, lord. I think he believes that she has put a curse on him.’

‘Is she a witch then?’ Kasim was intrigued. What kind of an English woman could curse the slave master in his own language? Certainly none that he had ever known in another life—a life he had no wish to remember. ‘You may tell your master that I shall attend his auction this afternoon.’

‘Yes, honourable lord …’ Yuri was about to run off when Kasim caught his arm. The lad looked up at him inquiringly, but made no attempt to pull away.

‘How old are you, boy? Ten … eleven?’

‘I do not know, my lord. No one has ever told me.’

‘Where did you come from?’

Yuri looked puzzled. ‘I was always here, lord. My mother was the slave of a merchant who purchased her from the corsairs. When she was sold to a new master, she tried to escape and no one saw her again. My master’s wife took me in and cared for me and I grew up in his household. That is all I know for no one speaks of her.’ A slightly wistful expression came to his eyes, as if he wished he might have known his mother.

‘Are you happy in Ali’s service?’

‘My master does not beat me unless he is angry. If I see that things do not go well, I hide until he is in a better temper.’

Kasim nodded. The boy’s life was no worse than a thousand others in this place; however, over the last few weeks he had developed a soft spot for the young lad and he would mention the possibility of buying him when he visited the auction later. The boy could serve him until he was older and then choose his own destiny. He would not be the first slave Kasim had set free.

His thoughts turned to the women the slave master had in his compound. If the blonde woman was truly English and as beautiful as Yuri claimed, his search might be at an end, though the other woman must somehow be persuaded to part with her friend.

‘What will become of us?’ Marguerite asked, as they were herded into a pen with other prisoners. ‘Will they ransom us, as you asked?’

Harriet reached for her hand. Marguerite had lived in a permanent state of terror since the day they were captured. The first few hours had truly been terrifying, but since then they had not been harshly treated and Harriet believed that if they behaved sensibly they would not be harmed. She suspected they were too valuable, though once they were sold it might be different. However, she refused to give into fear. She had tried to speak to the slave master when they arrived at the market, but though she sensed that he understood her, he merely shook his head and refused to answer her questions. Harriet had tried in vain to get news of her uncle and maid, who had become separated from them, also her uncle’s servant and Captain Richardson. She had told Ali bin Ahmed that her family would ransom them for money, but he glared at her and made a negative sound.

She spoke to one of the other prisoners in the compound. The woman told Harriet that she was French, taken captive some days earlier from another ship. There had been no sign of Marguerite’s father, Captain Richardson or Harriet’s maid. She could only hope that the others were still alive and safe.

‘I shall be worth little for I shall be sold as a body slave,’ the woman, who was called Francine, told Harriet. ‘But your friend will be bought by a rich man for his harem, and you may be, too, for you are both young and unmarried.’

‘Surely they will allow us to be ransomed?’ Harriet said, her heart sinking. ‘My brother is wealthy and he will pay for our release.’

‘Sometimes a ransom may be arranged,’ Francine agreed. ‘Some slave masters are wary of such an agreement. It is far easier to sell captives in the slave market than to trade with the foreign devils, as they call us.’

‘Perhaps the buyer will listen,’ Harriet said, but saw only pity in the older woman’s eyes. ‘Surely there must be someone who can help us?’

‘If your brother uses his influence with the French ambassador, it might be possible to trace and rescue you, but by that time … it may be best if you are never found. If you still live, you will be a shame upon your family’s name, but you may choose to end your life before—’ The woman broke off, clearly too distressed to continue. She did not need to: Harriet was well aware of her meaning. Both she and Marguerite might be taken to a harem and used to pleasure whoever bought them.

Marguerite had asked her what the Frenchwoman had said to her, but Harriet shook her head. She had allowed Marguerite to believe they would be ransomed, but since they had been transferred to the compound behind the slave market it was difficult to keep her cousin’s spirits up.

‘I do not know what will happen,’ she told Marguerite now. ‘We must stay together for as long as possible. If we refuse to be parted, they may have to sell us together; while we are together there is hope for us both.’

‘Oh, Harriet,’ Marguerite sobbed and clung to her. ‘If you had not come with me I should have been lost for ever. I would have died in the sea rather than let these beasts take me.’

‘You must not give way to despair, my love,’ Harriet said. ‘If I can find a way to have us both ransomed, I shall. I have a fortune and I will use it to see us both safely home again.’

‘What of Papa and … Captain Richardson?’ Marguerite asked. ‘Do you think they were killed on the ship? I have wondered if it would have been better to have stayed with them. If he is dead.’ She choked back her grief. ‘I would truly rather be dead than live as the concubine of one of those terrible men.’ She shuddered. ‘They frighten me, Harriet. I do not like their voices or their smell.’

‘The corsairs are brutes and there is an unpleasant smell about them, but I believe it will be very different in the har … household of a wealthy man. I understand that the Turks and Saracens can be highly educated men and that they like to bathe frequently. They are more likely to smell of perfume than sweat.’

‘Harriet!’ Marguerite stared at her in horror. ‘How can you say they are intelligent when they treat women as slaves? It is wicked and inhuman! I would rather die than be forced to. I should die of shame.’

‘Yes, I know that we should be ruined as far as the chance of a good marriage is concerned, but there are other pleasures in life. Besides, if a man of honour buys us, he may allow us to be ransomed in time.’

Marguerite gave her an accusing look. ‘You are saying that just to comfort me. You know it won’t happen, don’t you?’

Harriet cast down her gaze. She had begun to think that the hope of being ransomed was fading fast, but, seeing the fear and distress in her cousin’s eyes, knew she must not give up.

‘I can only promise to try, Marguerite. As yet I have found no one who will listen—’

Harriet broke off as she saw that something was happening. The slave master was choosing men and women and they were being taken from the compound. She grabbed hold of Marguerite, her heart beating wildly.

‘I think we are being taken to the auction. Hang on to me, Marguerite, and don’t let go whatever they say to us.’

Marguerite nodded, her face ashen. She took hold of Harriet’s arm, determined that she would not let go even if they were threatened, as they had already been several times.

‘Let go of her,’ the slave master commanded. ‘I want the fair one, not you.’

‘We go together.’ Harriet faced him down. In a tone of utter loathing she muttered an insult that he would understand, which she had once found in a rather risqué book in her father’s library. The stories had been about Arabia, but told as amorous adventures, and something she ought never to have touched, let alone read. Yet it had opened her eyes and perhaps she was more prepared for what was happening, because she had read of things most women might not have heard of and would think horrifying.

The slave master’s face was a picture of surprise and shock, yet a gleam of appreciation showed in his eyes and Harriet realised that he had a reluctant admiration for her vocabulary.

‘Go on, then, but you are to be sold separately.’

‘Quickly,’ Harriet hissed as they followed the other slaves through a dark tunnel. ‘Help me tie your wrist to mine. If they want to separate us they will have to cut us, apart.’

‘Oh, Harry …’ Marguerite trembled, her eyes dark with fear. ‘What will happen to us? Supposing someone horrible buys us?’

‘I shall protect you,’ Harriet said, though she could not help wondering who would protect her. Her own fear was like a hard knot inside her chest and she wished herself safe at home with her dogs and horses, but she lifted her head proudly, refusing to show her feelings. If only she had never agreed to accompany her uncle to Spain, she might have been out riding now with the wind in her hair. Yet that was selfish. Marguerite could not have survived her ordeal alone. ‘Whatever happens to us, I shall try to keep you from harm.’

Kasim watched the procession of slaves brought on to the block to be sold one by one. There were some strong men by the look of it, some of whom would make excellent Janissaries. However, he was not here to purchase male slaves, only a bride for the Caliph’s son. A few women had been brought out, but none of them would be looked on with favour even for the Caliph’s harem. He frowned, wondering if he had been lured here on a false pretence; then, as he heard a small disturbance and two women were pushed on to the auction block together, he sat forward with renewed interest.

Kasim saw instantly that one of the women was exceptionally beautiful. Her hair was long and fell down her back in silken waves just as Yuri had described. She looked pale and frightened, which was not surprising in the circumstances. Having experienced what it was like to be captured by Corsairs as a young man, Kasim could understand the fear. He looked at the beauty’s companion and frowned. She was older, attractive, but not beautiful by any means. Her hair was a rich dark brown with a hint of red, her face pale, but she did not seem as frightened as the beauty. She held herself proudly, her hand holding on to her companion tightly. A grim smile touched his lips as he saw the two women had tied themselves together. Yuri had named the older of the two the hellcat and perhaps it was an apt name.