Taming Charlotte by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9781451611106
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2010-06-30T21:00:00+00:00

14

A HMED HAD GRASPED CHARLOTTE BY HER HAIR, AND HE propelled her along in front of him with cruel force. Since they moved along rarely used passageways, they did not encounter Khalif’s men, and from that quarter, rescue seemed impossible.

Charlotte was far from despairing, however, for she still had the pistol Rashad had given her, secreted in the pocket of her robe. If matters came to such a dire point, she would shoot Ahmed without hesitation, just as her father and uncle had shot mad dogs and infected rats during an outbreak of rabies several years before.

Finally, after traversing a maze of passages and dusty, long-unused rooms, Ahmed thrust Charlotte through the high arched doorway of a large chamber.

The room was clean, and scented smoke wafted from several brass braziers. A male slave played softly on an instrument resembling a lyre, his eyes downcast, his brown body fairly quivering with tension. In the center of the space was a great couch, piled high with pillows of all colors, and the walls were hung with fading tapestries that must have been centuries old.

If she hadn’t been in such untoward circumstances, Charlotte would have taken pleasure in exploring the place. As it was, she felt compelled to keep her wits gathered solidly about her.

“No one will think to look for us here,” Ahmed told her, with a smarmy smile, giving her hair a vicious little wrench before flinging her into the heart of the chamber. “At least, not for some time.” He ran dark, insolent eyes over Charlotte’s dirt-smudged person,. “You look like a street urchin,” he scolded. “You must be bathed before our time of love.”

“ ‘Time of love’?” Charlotte scoffed, sounding braver than she felt. “If I had anything in my stomach, I would surely vomit.”

Ahmed laughed. “Ah, Charlotte, sweet Charlotte. You are indeed a spitfire, as the westerners say. This heartens me.” Having said this, he clapped. his hands together and spoke to the slave in rapid Arabic.

“I hope that doesn’t mean we’re married or something,” Charlotte said stiffly, referring to the hand-clapping gesture. “I already have a husband—not that such a fact would trouble a polecat like yourself.”

“A polecat,” Ahmed echoed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He was gaunt from his time in prison, and his eyes gleamed, as if from some fever of the soul. “This is an insult, I am sure.”

“You’re damn right it’s an insult,” Charlotte replied, caught up in the flow of her own bravado. “A polecat is a skunk.”

Ahmed glared at her, letting all his hatred show. “Your insolence is wearing on me, Mrs. Trevarren. I would suggest you stop talking before you earn yourself a taste of the lash.”

Charlotte would not willingly have shown trepidation for anything, but she felt the color drain from her face and knew from Ahmed’s expression that he saw and savored her fear. “Let me go,” she said, with dignity, after a long silence. “I have done nothing to you.”

The sultan’s treacherous half brother rolled his eyes in an apparent bid for patience.

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