The Pirate Prince (Pirate's Booty Series, Book Five) by Temple Hogan Page A

because she wanted him, she told herself sternly, but because she needed to bind him to her if she were to control him as Hasna had advised her about men. As if reading her thoughts, Oma knelt by the tub with a goblet of cloudy liquid.
    “You must drink this, Your Highness,” the old servant whispered. Her eyes had paled from age, but they were fierce as she held out the cup.
    “What is it?” Azara asked.
    “A magic potion,” Oma said, grinning toothlessly. “It will make you very fertile. If you carry Rajak’s child, he will not turn away from you, no matter what comes.”
    “I don’t want to trap him with my belly,” Azara cried out. “I want him to love me.” She bit her lip so she’d give no more away.
    “And so he will if you carry his son. No man can resist. Drink!”
    Azara hesitated. Did she wish to go this far with her trickery to win Rajak’s affection, but Oma held out the cup and Azara took it and drank. The potion was not unpleasant and she half believed it was nothing more than a harmless drink from a soothsayer. No one could cause a child to be born unless Allah decreed it. She handed the cup back to Oma who smiled beautifully, her eyes sparkling.
    “Hurry now,” she scolded, rising from the floor with some difficulty. “It is almost time.”
    “Time for what?” Azara asked, rising so the water sluiced off her firm, young body.
    Oma picked up a towel and began to dry her shoulders and back.
    “It is time for you to go to Rajak,” the old servant answered cryptically. “His friends have left for the night and he is alone in his room.” Oma picked up a sheer silk sleeping garment and settled it over Azara’s head.
    “What if he doesn’t want me?” she asked, her hands suddenly clammy.
    “When he sees you, he will,” Oma said.
    She pushed her charge into a chair and took up a comb, applying it to the shiny black curtain of hair with a gentle touch. At last, she decreed Azara was ready and led her out of her chambers and down the hall, where she halted before an ornately carved door. Azara realized with a shudder, she’d never visited Rajak’s chambers here in his palace. She’d stubbornly waited for him to come to her. Well, now she must swallow her pride and apply all the tricks Hasna and Oma seemed to think were necessary to win him. Some small part of her still balked at the thought she must woo him, while another anticipated what was about to occur.
    Oma knocked lightly on the door then opened it. Squaring her shoulders, Azara raised her chin and glided into the room. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but not the sumptuous room before her. As in the main hall, the walls were stenciled and softened by rich draperies. Arches opened out onto a balcony that let in the moonlight. Chests and armoires filled the room and in one corner sat a magnificent bed. She looked around, disappointed to see Rajak was not present then a shadow cut across the moonlight and suddenly he was there. He’d been on the balcony. He entered the room and stared at her.
    “Azara,” he whispered.
    She heard all the longing in his voice that she felt in her heart. Quickly, he crossed the room and, without giving her a chance to protest, took her into his arms. His lips lowered to hers and all the scents and essences of his very being filled her nostrils. She was pressed against his hard, warm body, enveloped in his strong arms. His mouth, hot and demanding, captured hers. His tongue rasped against her lips and plunged beyond. He kissed her so deeply, so intensely that she felt her knees weaken and when she would have fallen, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. Lowering her gently, he gazed down at her, studying her face, her body. His hands moved over her as if reassuring himself that she was truly here in his bed, in his arms.
    “You are so beautiful,” he said hoarsely.
    “And so are you,” she replied softly.
    She gasped in a breath as his roving hands parted the folds of