Fic: "Enslaved" (J/E - NC-17 - 1/4)
May. 30th, 2011 01:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dwgmYet another post-AWE Jack/Elizabeth scenario, a la Arabian Nights this time, with graphic het nookie, so be warned! I wrote this for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
potc_bigbang, but moderator ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trinityday has been waylaid by enemy pirates, or aliens, or RL (and I pray not in the bad way), so I'm posting it here over the next four days (it's four chapters, a little over 10K words). My profuse thanks to hereswith, best of beta readers, whose input and editing skills made this story (not to mention nearly all my previous ones) so much better!
The slave market at Landara was one of the less offensive Jack had seen. It was old and rich, constructed of a pale gold-hued stone wrought in elaborate patterns, and the whole of it was brightened by colorful tapestries and striped awnings that gave it an incongruously cheerful air. It was organized and bustling and clean, physically at least, and this cleanliness extended to the merchandise on display as well. The vast variety of naked or nearly naked bodies had been scrubbed, shorn, plucked, and oiled to within an inch of their collective lives for this, said to be the finest slave market in the old world. Still, shackles and chains were de rigueur even here, and the occasional ill-concealed bruise or flurry of stripes were reminders of the truth of the place. The expressions (or lack of) on the faces of those primped for their unhappy endings further sickened him. Some smiled in a hopeful, winning way; a few wept outright; most maintained an unemotional stoicism. But their eyes…
Outwardly calm (for was he not the consummate actor at need?), his gut roiled at the fate that had brought him anywhere near this antithesis of that which was dearest to him.
Fate in the form of one Elizabeth Swann, Pirate King, for of course it was her fault.
She was here, along with what was left of her crew, all to be sold as slaves, or so Ammand had told him – Ammand the Corsair, who had a mighty inconvenient accord with the Sultan of Landara, established a few years back after a period of prolonged strife. The pirate lord of the Black Sea was no longer a threat – or welcome – in the rich little city-state, and as a result was restricted to only the most clandestine forms of reconnaissance.
“I will do what I can to lend my support, Jack,” Ammand had shrugged, “since it is the captain of the Flying Dutchman who sends you. One does not lightly set aside the requests of immortals. I have ways of obtaining information, and the Seref will be anchored up the coast, beyond the border. But do not expect direct assistance. And be careful. If the Sultan discovers you are in Landara, he will not be merciful.”
“Don’t I bloody know it,” Jack had muttered. He’d worn out his own welcome in Landara years ago, right after he’d become captain of the Black Pearl. Youthful indiscretions. You’d think the old man would’ve forgotten that by now, but it seemed he had a long memory.
Jack had tried to use that excuse with Will, pleading, “You don’t understand, mate! Your beloved will be in more danger with me than she would be all on her ever-so-capable onsies. Why, a few years back the Pearl tried to shelter in their harbor and got turned away into that storm that took the Dauntless.”
“So I’ve heard,” Will had said. “One of my crew happens to have been an officer on the Dauntless when she went down. That’s why you must go without the Pearl. Barbossa will keep her safe for you while you’re gone. And you care for Elizabeth, as much as I do.”
Jack’s minor explosion of denials and objections to these points had only made Will smile, and fix him with those eyes of his. Bloody inhuman.
“She needs you, Jack, now more than ever. And she’s always loved you.”
“Ha! ”
Jack was almost surprised himself at the way resentment over his death-by-Kraken yet lingered. His heart’s sense of amour propre would not admit what his head knew to be the truth, that Elizabeth had done the right thing, given the circumstances.
And Will brushed the whole issue aside, repeating his words. “She’s always loved you. It used to prey on me, I can tell you, eating away at my peace. But things changed. I've changed, I’m no longer what I was. She has a true heart, and she’ll be there for me when I come ashore for my one day, as long as there's life in her. But it’s my hope now that you will be, too, that you’ll be by her side. Our destinies are still intertwined, Jack, just as they’ve always been. Surely you’ve saved us often enough to realize that?”
“Intertwined, is it?” Jack ground his teeth, annoyed at the way the many scenes proving Will’s point ran through his brain. “And what would you say – what would Calypso say if Elizabeth and I intertwined. I ain’t a strong man when it comes to her nibs, surely you realize that, being so knowledgeable and all. You want to take that chance?”
“Jack, Calypso’s notions of love and faith are more generous than those of mortals. The day will come when you’ll know the truth of that yourself—“
“May it be long delayed,” Jack muttered, his eyes sliding away from Will’s far too prescient gaze. Fiddler’s Green or, God forbid, the Locker, he’d avoid either as long as he could.
“—but in the meantime,” Will continued, “Elizabeth shouldn’t be alone, and nor should you. I’ve watched you both from afar, and I ask you, as a friend—as more than friend—go back, rescue her once more. She’s yours, and you’re hers, and in another few years I’ll come to you both.”
Jack had looked up, startled to see that Will had drawn close – very close, too close—and now took the hand Jack threw up to ward him off. There was a smile, a whispered hush! and he was… enveloped.
There was no other word for it, at least none Jack could think of.
There followed an indeterminate period of mingled fear and joy, and then a strange kind of grace that was still on him when he woke half a world away, on the deserted orlop deck of Ammand’s Seref.
Ammand had been told something, for it transpired that there was no need to explain his sudden appearance, but Jack didn’t press the matter. Ammand’s willing cooperation and half-amused, half awestruck gaze told Jack enough.
And a week later, here he was, the garb of the region concealing his piratiness, wondering if he was too late to find Elizabeth here, if she and her crew had already been sold. It’d been well over a fortnight since the Empress had foundered, after all.
“My lord! My lord!”
Jack turned to see Ammand’s nephew, Aziz, running toward him, eyes wide with excitement.
“I have found her!” the boy gasped as he came to a halt, grabbing at the sleeve of Jack’s robe. Ammand had lied, for Aziz, fourteen and ripe for adventure, was as direct a form of assistance as could be imagined. The boy had begged his uncle for the chance to accompany Jack to Landara, and Ammand had reluctantly allowed it, since Aziz was unknown to the sultan. Jack had found him to be both useful and very good company, and that he fairly worshipped Elizabeth – she’d apparently done him some good turn not long after she’d become king, though Jack gathered that the details were too embarrassing to share.
“Steady on, we don’t want to alert the whole city!” Jack cautioned. He looked about, but thankfully no one was paying any heed.
Aziz let go, straightened and glanced around with a sudden look of terror, then swiftly commanded his countenance and bowed. “Apologies, Lord. But she is here!”
“Where?”
“She is in the House of Pearls. I did not see her, but it must be her, a servant of Abu M’ad described her to me, though in the grossest terms – I would have slit his throat, had the moment been more propitious.”
Jack managed not to laugh. “What the devil did he say?”
“He said she was like whey, thin and colorless, save for her bearing. But he called her great spirit foolishness, and said it has not served her well, that she… Lord, I fear… the dog said she has been punished for defiance twice during her time of preparation. Whipped!”
Jack felt himself going pale with fury at the thought of Lizzie… but Aziz looked so appalled that Jack gathered his composure and said, “They wouldn’t do anything that’d leave marks, boy, not in the House of Pearls. She’s to be sold as a concubine, I take it?”
“Yes, and this very afternoon. She is one of several that will be offered. That dog of a servant said he doubted she would garner much interest, much less fetch as much as Abu M’ad expects, but oh, I fear he is wrong, Lord.”
Jack stared across the market square and past the lowlier buildings, to where the House of Pearls rose above them, that very exclusive establishment, famous across the old world and the new. “No worries, lad,” he told Aziz, deadly quiet. “We’ll have her by tonight, by fair means or foul.”
*
Elizabeth stood straight and quiet, praying that she could marshal her temper long enough to endure this humiliation and escape Abu M’ad’s clutches and his bloody House of Pearls. Twice she had tried to run away since her capture, nearly three weeks ago, but even her carefully planned second attempt had garnered nothing more than a half hour’s fugitive freedom and exquisitely painful retribution on her forcible return.
Not that she wouldn’t have tried again. But there had been no chance.
Many adventures had come her way since her days as a discontented governor’s daughter, but her mind and body had been her own throughout. In the House of Pearls it was different. After a night of extreme discomfort and deprivation, she had been given some physick, mild yet effective in rendering her languid and unresisting even as it enhanced sensation. She passed through the subsequent days as in some waking dream as she watched and learned and experienced the “training” for which the concubines of the House of Pearls were famous. By the time the moon rose that first night, the cold resolve that had kept her outwardly silent and aloof hitherto had begun to fail her.
Abu M’ad had much for which to pay.
Yet Elizabeth was fortunate, for important buyers had arrived in the last day. Her training had been curtailed, and she was to be sold. The physick had been leached from her system and she was much more herself again. But the knowledge she’d gained in the House of Pearls remained, knowledge of many things, but above all, a vivid awareness of what the body was capable of, a ceaseless distraction, every nerve endlessly straining toward a release that would never be enough.
She knew what she had to do, and that her chances would be far better away from the House of Pearls. She must find the resolve… the courage.
“They come,” said the attendant – the guard that had been assigned her during her training. He was an enormous man, a eunuch, known for his diligence and subtle cruelty. He smiled now, and it was the same smile he’d worn when they had caught her and brought her back that second time.
She straightened and looked him in the eye.
He shook his head, still smiling, and before she realized what he would be at he slipped his fat fingers beneath the loose silk robe and tweaked one of her rouged nipples. She gasped, her eyes going wide and, for a moment, helpless. He chuckled before she could command herself once more, stepping behind her, taking up his position. “Be careful, little bird,” she heard him say.
She took a deep breath, straightening again, but her cheeks were burning when the first buyer was brought in.
It was Jack.
Her knees nearly buckled, but she had the wit to clamp her jaw and lower her eyes from his. Dear God…
Abu M’ad accompanied him, the consummate merchant, expert at extolling even the dubious virtues of a thin, rather sinewy specimen that obviously hailed from the west, France, or possibly Great Britain. She might lack the dusky hair and soft, inviting curves of a desert beauty, but Abu M’ad could assure the gentleman that there was a fire in this one that would keep a man warm in many ways.
“Look your fill, my lord, and tell me if she is not full of possibilities—“
The robe was drawn from Elizabeth’s shoulders and allowed to fall, leaving her standing naked in a pool of silk.
“—for though she is past the first blush of youth, she is yet guaranteed a virgin and she has been thoroughly trained in my House of Pearls.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath… several in fact, hoping she wouldn’t faint, for she felt as though she might, all too aware of Jack’s gaze upon her.
And then Jack stepped close, and said in French, “Trained, you say?” and ran his finger down her bare arm.
Her body betrayed her again, and she gave a small gasp as her rouged nipples tightened visibly.
Jack chuckled. “So it seems. Yet she’s a virgin, too?”
He moved around behind her as Abu M’ad spoke: “I swear it on my illustrious mother’s head, but you may put her to the test if you like.”
Alarm flared in her breast, but to her infinite relief Jack said, “No, no, that won’t be necessary. Have I not heard that the word of Abu M’ad is a pearl in itself?”
Abu M’ad bowed, looking unctuous.
Jack slowly made his way back around her and then to the merchant’s side, pulling thoughtfully at his chin braids as he completed his perusal of her form, then turning from her to quietly discuss price… and, when that had been agreed upon, method of delivery. All the while she stood there unclothed, anger and hope growing in equal measure.
But at last Abu M’ad bowed, and said, “It shall be so!” and Jack was walking toward her, around her again, and in a moment the silk of the robe was upon her shoulders, covering her partially, at least. She swallowed hard, and relaxed very slightly as he came to face her, and for the first time looked him straight in the eye.
“Until tonight, my pearl,” he said, his voice husky, his familiar grin crooked, his eyes alight with… encouragement. And appreciation.
He was saving her again.
*
It had gone well. Very well. And now Jack was waiting for her, having arranged to take delivery of his “purchase” at sunset, at the small but luxurious inn where he and Aziz had been staying.
It was useless trying to erase that picture of Elizabeth from his mind’s eye, so he didn’t make the attempt. Impossible. Impossibly lovely.
He’d tried to forget her these last years, and had succeeded to some extent. It had been a long time since they’d met. Perhaps that was why she’d fairly knocked him acock all over again when he’d seen her there, straight and proud in spite of the circumstances. But she’d always been north to his internal compass, since the fateful day she’d dropped from Port Royal’s battlements into the sea.
He thought of her, and of Will's words. Perhaps might work between them after all. Provided she could forgive him for avoiding her these last years, then showing up now, to see her stripped of everything, both literally and figuratively. Provided she would believe what Will had told him.
But, Lord. Trained in the House of Pearls. He knew what that meant, and no mistake, it was what had gotten him into such trouble here in Landara all those years ago.
“My God,” he muttered, his loins tightening still further at the thought of Elizabeth…
And there was a commotion outside.
The voice of Aziz was heard, then a knock and the door opened. Aziz said, “My lord, the worthy Abu M’ad has made good his word and your pearl is here. I wish you joy.”
She walked in, very straight, veiled, and garbed in silk from head to toe.
Aziz had the cheek to wink at Jack before closing the door and leaving them in privacy.
She stood there, unmoving, until he came to her and said quietly, as he removed the veil, “No worries, I’ve stuffed up the peepholes, we’re alone and safe.”
“Jack,” she whispered, lifting her chin, trying for courage. But even as she raised her eyes to his, her own glistened, then filled with tears that spilled over as she closed them and bit her lower lip.
It wasn’t unexpected. He had some experience with such things himself, after all. He remembered well the ways in which such adventures exacted their price.
He took her hand. “Come over here, love.”
“No!” she said, trying to pull her hand away, trying to turn from him.
But it wouldn’t do. “Yes,” he said firmly, and led her to the couch that lay in a cool, shadowed corner of the room. He made her sit down beside him, and it wasn’t long before she gave in and allowed him to hold her as she wept, an anchor against the storm of her pain and anger. He murmured nonsense and gentled her, and scolded her when she grew impatient with her weakness and would have pushed him away.
Eventually, a shuddering sigh saw the end of it. “I’m sorry,” she snuffled, sitting up. “You must think me ridiculous.”
“Actually, I don’t,” he said, handing her another handkerchief. “It happens I know something of the House of Pearls and their notions of training.”
She frowned, but wiped her eyes and blew her nose before saying, “You know? ”
“My ill-spent youth. The old sultan would have my hide if he knew I was here in Landara. A couple of his wives and all of his concubines underwent instruction in that fine establishment, and I was the sometime beneficiary of their skills, and…er… needs. As it were.”
Her brows rose. “The sultan’s women? Jack… you didn’t! ”
“Couldn’t help it, their lord being something of a eunuch, and me being… well, me.” A reminiscent smirk tugged at his mouth. He battled with it, gave up and shrugged, and lounged against the back of the couch, trying to hide the fact that he was thinking of Elizabeth in the same context.
By the flash of her eye it was apparent he’d failed. “I suppose you want to bed me.” A challenge, but there wasn’t much heat in it.
“Of course,” he said, and then felt it politic to add, “But I always did.”
She stared. “Always?” Her cheeks grew delightfully pink and she sat very stiff and straight.
He ventured, “I suppose this wouldn’t be the opportune moment?”
“No.” She glared, in spite of her blush.
But was there evidence of suppressed laughter on her pretty lips? He nudged it along with a tragic air: “Oh, cruel, Lizzie. Don’t tell me I mayn’t hope, love, for I couldn’t bear it.”
She gave a small snort of laughter.
He grinned. “That’s better.” He drew her back to recline with him, slipping an arm about her shoulders.
“Jack, you’re impossible,” she said.
“And ain’t you glad of it?”
“I am.” She sighed, relaxing, her head bent to his.
He held her hand and for a time they were quiet. But then she lifted her head. “Jack, we must rescue my crew.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“I do. They were sold together, when we were first brought into the city, to a man who lives twenty miles inland. He has a vast estate, and he buys many slaves to work the gardens and fields.”
“What’s his name?”
“Rafi Kasim.”
“Bloody hell!” Another name from the past! “Not that—er, not the sultan’s old vizier?”
She looked amused. “No, it’s his son, from what I was told. He’s a young man, wealthy and indolent. His father died a few years ago.”
“Thank God fasting! You’re sure?”
“I gave the pot-boy the last of my coin to get the information, and I believe he’s to be trusted.”
“Well, well.” Jack gave her a squeeze. “That was good work. That’s my Lizzie, keeping busy in between escapes, and whippings, and learning the ways of concubines.” But it was too soon, a bleak look came into her eyes, so he backtracked, saying with gentle cheer, “There now, love, it’s all over. And with some luck we’ll fetch your crew and get out alive and more or less intact, eh?”
She nodded, still a bit haunted, but trying to smile. “Thank you, Jack,” she said, and she took up his hand and lifted it to her lips.
On to Chapter Two: Journey
potc_bigbang, but moderator trinityday has been waylaid by enemy pirates, or aliens, or RL (and I pray not in the bad way), so I'm posting it here over the next four days (it's four chapters, a little over 10K words). My profuse thanks to hereswith, best of beta readers, whose input and editing skills made this story (not to mention nearly all my previous ones) so much better!The slave market at Landara was one of the less offensive Jack had seen. It was old and rich, constructed of a pale gold-hued stone wrought in elaborate patterns, and the whole of it was brightened by colorful tapestries and striped awnings that gave it an incongruously cheerful air. It was organized and bustling and clean, physically at least, and this cleanliness extended to the merchandise on display as well. The vast variety of naked or nearly naked bodies had been scrubbed, shorn, plucked, and oiled to within an inch of their collective lives for this, said to be the finest slave market in the old world. Still, shackles and chains were de rigueur even here, and the occasional ill-concealed bruise or flurry of stripes were reminders of the truth of the place. The expressions (or lack of) on the faces of those primped for their unhappy endings further sickened him. Some smiled in a hopeful, winning way; a few wept outright; most maintained an unemotional stoicism. But their eyes…
Outwardly calm (for was he not the consummate actor at need?), his gut roiled at the fate that had brought him anywhere near this antithesis of that which was dearest to him.
Fate in the form of one Elizabeth Swann, Pirate King, for of course it was her fault.
She was here, along with what was left of her crew, all to be sold as slaves, or so Ammand had told him – Ammand the Corsair, who had a mighty inconvenient accord with the Sultan of Landara, established a few years back after a period of prolonged strife. The pirate lord of the Black Sea was no longer a threat – or welcome – in the rich little city-state, and as a result was restricted to only the most clandestine forms of reconnaissance.
“I will do what I can to lend my support, Jack,” Ammand had shrugged, “since it is the captain of the Flying Dutchman who sends you. One does not lightly set aside the requests of immortals. I have ways of obtaining information, and the Seref will be anchored up the coast, beyond the border. But do not expect direct assistance. And be careful. If the Sultan discovers you are in Landara, he will not be merciful.”
“Don’t I bloody know it,” Jack had muttered. He’d worn out his own welcome in Landara years ago, right after he’d become captain of the Black Pearl. Youthful indiscretions. You’d think the old man would’ve forgotten that by now, but it seemed he had a long memory.
Jack had tried to use that excuse with Will, pleading, “You don’t understand, mate! Your beloved will be in more danger with me than she would be all on her ever-so-capable onsies. Why, a few years back the Pearl tried to shelter in their harbor and got turned away into that storm that took the Dauntless.”
“So I’ve heard,” Will had said. “One of my crew happens to have been an officer on the Dauntless when she went down. That’s why you must go without the Pearl. Barbossa will keep her safe for you while you’re gone. And you care for Elizabeth, as much as I do.”
Jack’s minor explosion of denials and objections to these points had only made Will smile, and fix him with those eyes of his. Bloody inhuman.
“She needs you, Jack, now more than ever. And she’s always loved you.”
“Ha! ”
Jack was almost surprised himself at the way resentment over his death-by-Kraken yet lingered. His heart’s sense of amour propre would not admit what his head knew to be the truth, that Elizabeth had done the right thing, given the circumstances.
And Will brushed the whole issue aside, repeating his words. “She’s always loved you. It used to prey on me, I can tell you, eating away at my peace. But things changed. I've changed, I’m no longer what I was. She has a true heart, and she’ll be there for me when I come ashore for my one day, as long as there's life in her. But it’s my hope now that you will be, too, that you’ll be by her side. Our destinies are still intertwined, Jack, just as they’ve always been. Surely you’ve saved us often enough to realize that?”
“Intertwined, is it?” Jack ground his teeth, annoyed at the way the many scenes proving Will’s point ran through his brain. “And what would you say – what would Calypso say if Elizabeth and I intertwined. I ain’t a strong man when it comes to her nibs, surely you realize that, being so knowledgeable and all. You want to take that chance?”
“Jack, Calypso’s notions of love and faith are more generous than those of mortals. The day will come when you’ll know the truth of that yourself—“
“May it be long delayed,” Jack muttered, his eyes sliding away from Will’s far too prescient gaze. Fiddler’s Green or, God forbid, the Locker, he’d avoid either as long as he could.
“—but in the meantime,” Will continued, “Elizabeth shouldn’t be alone, and nor should you. I’ve watched you both from afar, and I ask you, as a friend—as more than friend—go back, rescue her once more. She’s yours, and you’re hers, and in another few years I’ll come to you both.”
Jack had looked up, startled to see that Will had drawn close – very close, too close—and now took the hand Jack threw up to ward him off. There was a smile, a whispered hush! and he was… enveloped.
There was no other word for it, at least none Jack could think of.
There followed an indeterminate period of mingled fear and joy, and then a strange kind of grace that was still on him when he woke half a world away, on the deserted orlop deck of Ammand’s Seref.
Ammand had been told something, for it transpired that there was no need to explain his sudden appearance, but Jack didn’t press the matter. Ammand’s willing cooperation and half-amused, half awestruck gaze told Jack enough.
And a week later, here he was, the garb of the region concealing his piratiness, wondering if he was too late to find Elizabeth here, if she and her crew had already been sold. It’d been well over a fortnight since the Empress had foundered, after all.
“My lord! My lord!”
Jack turned to see Ammand’s nephew, Aziz, running toward him, eyes wide with excitement.
“I have found her!” the boy gasped as he came to a halt, grabbing at the sleeve of Jack’s robe. Ammand had lied, for Aziz, fourteen and ripe for adventure, was as direct a form of assistance as could be imagined. The boy had begged his uncle for the chance to accompany Jack to Landara, and Ammand had reluctantly allowed it, since Aziz was unknown to the sultan. Jack had found him to be both useful and very good company, and that he fairly worshipped Elizabeth – she’d apparently done him some good turn not long after she’d become king, though Jack gathered that the details were too embarrassing to share.
“Steady on, we don’t want to alert the whole city!” Jack cautioned. He looked about, but thankfully no one was paying any heed.
Aziz let go, straightened and glanced around with a sudden look of terror, then swiftly commanded his countenance and bowed. “Apologies, Lord. But she is here!”
“Where?”
“She is in the House of Pearls. I did not see her, but it must be her, a servant of Abu M’ad described her to me, though in the grossest terms – I would have slit his throat, had the moment been more propitious.”
Jack managed not to laugh. “What the devil did he say?”
“He said she was like whey, thin and colorless, save for her bearing. But he called her great spirit foolishness, and said it has not served her well, that she… Lord, I fear… the dog said she has been punished for defiance twice during her time of preparation. Whipped!”
Jack felt himself going pale with fury at the thought of Lizzie… but Aziz looked so appalled that Jack gathered his composure and said, “They wouldn’t do anything that’d leave marks, boy, not in the House of Pearls. She’s to be sold as a concubine, I take it?”
“Yes, and this very afternoon. She is one of several that will be offered. That dog of a servant said he doubted she would garner much interest, much less fetch as much as Abu M’ad expects, but oh, I fear he is wrong, Lord.”
Jack stared across the market square and past the lowlier buildings, to where the House of Pearls rose above them, that very exclusive establishment, famous across the old world and the new. “No worries, lad,” he told Aziz, deadly quiet. “We’ll have her by tonight, by fair means or foul.”
*
Elizabeth stood straight and quiet, praying that she could marshal her temper long enough to endure this humiliation and escape Abu M’ad’s clutches and his bloody House of Pearls. Twice she had tried to run away since her capture, nearly three weeks ago, but even her carefully planned second attempt had garnered nothing more than a half hour’s fugitive freedom and exquisitely painful retribution on her forcible return.
Not that she wouldn’t have tried again. But there had been no chance.
Many adventures had come her way since her days as a discontented governor’s daughter, but her mind and body had been her own throughout. In the House of Pearls it was different. After a night of extreme discomfort and deprivation, she had been given some physick, mild yet effective in rendering her languid and unresisting even as it enhanced sensation. She passed through the subsequent days as in some waking dream as she watched and learned and experienced the “training” for which the concubines of the House of Pearls were famous. By the time the moon rose that first night, the cold resolve that had kept her outwardly silent and aloof hitherto had begun to fail her.
Abu M’ad had much for which to pay.
Yet Elizabeth was fortunate, for important buyers had arrived in the last day. Her training had been curtailed, and she was to be sold. The physick had been leached from her system and she was much more herself again. But the knowledge she’d gained in the House of Pearls remained, knowledge of many things, but above all, a vivid awareness of what the body was capable of, a ceaseless distraction, every nerve endlessly straining toward a release that would never be enough.
She knew what she had to do, and that her chances would be far better away from the House of Pearls. She must find the resolve… the courage.
“They come,” said the attendant – the guard that had been assigned her during her training. He was an enormous man, a eunuch, known for his diligence and subtle cruelty. He smiled now, and it was the same smile he’d worn when they had caught her and brought her back that second time.
She straightened and looked him in the eye.
He shook his head, still smiling, and before she realized what he would be at he slipped his fat fingers beneath the loose silk robe and tweaked one of her rouged nipples. She gasped, her eyes going wide and, for a moment, helpless. He chuckled before she could command herself once more, stepping behind her, taking up his position. “Be careful, little bird,” she heard him say.
She took a deep breath, straightening again, but her cheeks were burning when the first buyer was brought in.
It was Jack.
Her knees nearly buckled, but she had the wit to clamp her jaw and lower her eyes from his. Dear God…
Abu M’ad accompanied him, the consummate merchant, expert at extolling even the dubious virtues of a thin, rather sinewy specimen that obviously hailed from the west, France, or possibly Great Britain. She might lack the dusky hair and soft, inviting curves of a desert beauty, but Abu M’ad could assure the gentleman that there was a fire in this one that would keep a man warm in many ways.
“Look your fill, my lord, and tell me if she is not full of possibilities—“
The robe was drawn from Elizabeth’s shoulders and allowed to fall, leaving her standing naked in a pool of silk.
“—for though she is past the first blush of youth, she is yet guaranteed a virgin and she has been thoroughly trained in my House of Pearls.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath… several in fact, hoping she wouldn’t faint, for she felt as though she might, all too aware of Jack’s gaze upon her.
And then Jack stepped close, and said in French, “Trained, you say?” and ran his finger down her bare arm.
Her body betrayed her again, and she gave a small gasp as her rouged nipples tightened visibly.
Jack chuckled. “So it seems. Yet she’s a virgin, too?”
He moved around behind her as Abu M’ad spoke: “I swear it on my illustrious mother’s head, but you may put her to the test if you like.”
Alarm flared in her breast, but to her infinite relief Jack said, “No, no, that won’t be necessary. Have I not heard that the word of Abu M’ad is a pearl in itself?”
Abu M’ad bowed, looking unctuous.
Jack slowly made his way back around her and then to the merchant’s side, pulling thoughtfully at his chin braids as he completed his perusal of her form, then turning from her to quietly discuss price… and, when that had been agreed upon, method of delivery. All the while she stood there unclothed, anger and hope growing in equal measure.
But at last Abu M’ad bowed, and said, “It shall be so!” and Jack was walking toward her, around her again, and in a moment the silk of the robe was upon her shoulders, covering her partially, at least. She swallowed hard, and relaxed very slightly as he came to face her, and for the first time looked him straight in the eye.
“Until tonight, my pearl,” he said, his voice husky, his familiar grin crooked, his eyes alight with… encouragement. And appreciation.
He was saving her again.
*
It had gone well. Very well. And now Jack was waiting for her, having arranged to take delivery of his “purchase” at sunset, at the small but luxurious inn where he and Aziz had been staying.
It was useless trying to erase that picture of Elizabeth from his mind’s eye, so he didn’t make the attempt. Impossible. Impossibly lovely.
He’d tried to forget her these last years, and had succeeded to some extent. It had been a long time since they’d met. Perhaps that was why she’d fairly knocked him acock all over again when he’d seen her there, straight and proud in spite of the circumstances. But she’d always been north to his internal compass, since the fateful day she’d dropped from Port Royal’s battlements into the sea.
He thought of her, and of Will's words. Perhaps might work between them after all. Provided she could forgive him for avoiding her these last years, then showing up now, to see her stripped of everything, both literally and figuratively. Provided she would believe what Will had told him.
But, Lord. Trained in the House of Pearls. He knew what that meant, and no mistake, it was what had gotten him into such trouble here in Landara all those years ago.
“My God,” he muttered, his loins tightening still further at the thought of Elizabeth…
And there was a commotion outside.
The voice of Aziz was heard, then a knock and the door opened. Aziz said, “My lord, the worthy Abu M’ad has made good his word and your pearl is here. I wish you joy.”
She walked in, very straight, veiled, and garbed in silk from head to toe.
Aziz had the cheek to wink at Jack before closing the door and leaving them in privacy.
She stood there, unmoving, until he came to her and said quietly, as he removed the veil, “No worries, I’ve stuffed up the peepholes, we’re alone and safe.”
“Jack,” she whispered, lifting her chin, trying for courage. But even as she raised her eyes to his, her own glistened, then filled with tears that spilled over as she closed them and bit her lower lip.
It wasn’t unexpected. He had some experience with such things himself, after all. He remembered well the ways in which such adventures exacted their price.
He took her hand. “Come over here, love.”
“No!” she said, trying to pull her hand away, trying to turn from him.
But it wouldn’t do. “Yes,” he said firmly, and led her to the couch that lay in a cool, shadowed corner of the room. He made her sit down beside him, and it wasn’t long before she gave in and allowed him to hold her as she wept, an anchor against the storm of her pain and anger. He murmured nonsense and gentled her, and scolded her when she grew impatient with her weakness and would have pushed him away.
Eventually, a shuddering sigh saw the end of it. “I’m sorry,” she snuffled, sitting up. “You must think me ridiculous.”
“Actually, I don’t,” he said, handing her another handkerchief. “It happens I know something of the House of Pearls and their notions of training.”
She frowned, but wiped her eyes and blew her nose before saying, “You know? ”
“My ill-spent youth. The old sultan would have my hide if he knew I was here in Landara. A couple of his wives and all of his concubines underwent instruction in that fine establishment, and I was the sometime beneficiary of their skills, and…er… needs. As it were.”
Her brows rose. “The sultan’s women? Jack… you didn’t! ”
“Couldn’t help it, their lord being something of a eunuch, and me being… well, me.” A reminiscent smirk tugged at his mouth. He battled with it, gave up and shrugged, and lounged against the back of the couch, trying to hide the fact that he was thinking of Elizabeth in the same context.
By the flash of her eye it was apparent he’d failed. “I suppose you want to bed me.” A challenge, but there wasn’t much heat in it.
“Of course,” he said, and then felt it politic to add, “But I always did.”
She stared. “Always?” Her cheeks grew delightfully pink and she sat very stiff and straight.
He ventured, “I suppose this wouldn’t be the opportune moment?”
“No.” She glared, in spite of her blush.
But was there evidence of suppressed laughter on her pretty lips? He nudged it along with a tragic air: “Oh, cruel, Lizzie. Don’t tell me I mayn’t hope, love, for I couldn’t bear it.”
She gave a small snort of laughter.
He grinned. “That’s better.” He drew her back to recline with him, slipping an arm about her shoulders.
“Jack, you’re impossible,” she said.
“And ain’t you glad of it?”
“I am.” She sighed, relaxing, her head bent to his.
He held her hand and for a time they were quiet. But then she lifted her head. “Jack, we must rescue my crew.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“I do. They were sold together, when we were first brought into the city, to a man who lives twenty miles inland. He has a vast estate, and he buys many slaves to work the gardens and fields.”
“What’s his name?”
“Rafi Kasim.”
“Bloody hell!” Another name from the past! “Not that—er, not the sultan’s old vizier?”
She looked amused. “No, it’s his son, from what I was told. He’s a young man, wealthy and indolent. His father died a few years ago.”
“Thank God fasting! You’re sure?”
“I gave the pot-boy the last of my coin to get the information, and I believe he’s to be trusted.”
“Well, well.” Jack gave her a squeeze. “That was good work. That’s my Lizzie, keeping busy in between escapes, and whippings, and learning the ways of concubines.” But it was too soon, a bleak look came into her eyes, so he backtracked, saying with gentle cheer, “There now, love, it’s all over. And with some luck we’ll fetch your crew and get out alive and more or less intact, eh?”
She nodded, still a bit haunted, but trying to smile. “Thank you, Jack,” she said, and she took up his hand and lifted it to her lips.
On to Chapter Two: Journey