Tom Southwood's big fist slammed into Adrian Leigh's bruised nose with the speed of lightning, and he actually heard the viscount's nose break. "You miserable bastard!" he roared before their guards pulled him off the viscount, who was once again bleeding from his battered proboscis. "It was nothing more than her fortune, wasn't it?" Tom Southwood said. "But she, poor innocent, wouldn't believe us."

"Of course it was her fortune," Adrian Leigh half moaned. "Why the hell else would a man marry a woman but for her dowry?"

India had watched Adrian and Tom depart the chamber. She had no idea what had happened to them, for she hadn't been able to hear from her place in the rear of the audience chamber, which was now almost empty. Seeing the blood on the viscount's face, she was not just a little frightened. Then she heard Aruj Agha's voice call to her, and he came to lead her up to the foot of the dey's throne. Quickly he removed the long cape she wore, and unveiled her face. India stood silently in her silk shirt and her dark silk skirts. The agha had warned her to keep her eyes lowered. Because she was as yet anxious, and fearful, she was more than willing to follow his instructions. There was not a sound in the hall, it seemed, but her own thundering heart.

The dey arose, and stepped down, moving directly in front of India. Reaching out, he tipped her face up. "Let me see your eyes," he commanded her. His voice was deep and rich, his French exquisite.

She shyly raised her dark lashes, and was startled to see that his own eyes were a deep sapphire blue.

Holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the dey gazed directly into her face, and India felt a blush firing her cheeks. "She has eyes like a young lioness," the dey pronounced, speaking to his companions as if she wasn't even there, or worse, didn't understand.

"She is very spirited, my lord dey," Aruj Agha warned.

"Is she?" Thedey sounded amused. Then he said to India, "Does my captain speak the truth? Are you a thorny English rose?"

"Please, my lord, what has happened to my cousin and Viscount Twyford?" India burst out, unable to help herself.

"She is spirited," the dey said, and then he told India, "Your cousin has accepted Islam, and will sail with Aruj Agha. As for that arrogant young milord, I have sent him to the galleys."

The galleys! The words burned into India's brain. It was a death sentence. Adrian would not be able to survive such punishment. She had seen how hard the galley slaves had worked on the agha's ship. And when they had not worked hard enough to suit the overseer, a whip had been applied to their backs to encourage them onward. India shrieked with her fury and her distress. Her eyes went to a dagger in the dey's cloth-of-gold sash. Grabbing at the bejeweled handle, she pulled it out, and stabbed wildly at him with it. "You have killed Adrian! You have killed him!" she screamed.

"Allah preserve us!" the agha cried out, and, leaping forward, disarmed India, throwing her to the floor. "My lord, are you seriously injured? Ahhhhh! I shall never forgive myself for having introduced this wretched girl into your presence. My lord! Speak to me!"

The dey, however, was laughing. "Spirited? I do not think that begins to describe the wench," he said, rubbing his bruised shoulder. "Do not fear, my good Agha. I am only slightly grazed. Her aim was most dreadful, but she has ripped my cloak." Then he signaled to two of his startled servants.

Immediately they pulled India up, and dragged her across the chamber where they fastened her between two marble pillars, her feet just barely touching the floor. The back of her shirt was ripped away, and her long, dark hair pushed aside. She saw his bare feet by her side.

"You cannot be allowed to attack me without being punished," he said softly. "The lash will be plied so that I do not break the skin on your back and seriously harm you. I will wield the whip myself, and you will receive five lashes. I am being merciful because you are new to our ways, although I am certain that attempted murder in England would be met with a far harsher judgment than that I will mete out to you."

"I do not care what you do to me," India said brokenly. "Your cruelty will kill the viscount."

"Why should you care?" he asked her, his voice curious.

"Because I love him!" she half sobbed.

The dey did not answer her. Instead, he moved directly behind her, and India heard the whistle of the whip even before it hit her back. She cried out with the first blow. "Ihate you!" Behind her the dey smiled grimly, and continued her punishment adding the second, third, fourth, and fifth lashes to her back, but India clamped her lips tightly together and did not cry out again.

When he had finished, the agha said, "I shall take her to the marketplace and sell her, my lord dey."

"No," Caynan Reis said. "I am going to keep her, Aruj Agha."

"But she tried to kill you, my lord! The wench is far too dangerous to keep. I would never forgive myself if she succeeded in a second attempt. No! Let me sell her."

The dey chuckled. "No," he replied. "I enjoy a little danger. She is a virgin, is she not? Well, we all know how passionate virgins can be. She attacked me because she says she loves that arrogant little milord, and she believes I have given him a death sentence. I will turn her foolish heart because it will be a challenge to do so. She may one day become the pride of my harem. Now, let me get a better look at this prize you have brought me, Aruj Agha. Strip her!" he told his servants.

The slaves released India from her confinement between the two pillars. She was half carried, half dragged across the floor to the dais where the dey now stood. The remnants of her shirt and her chemise were pulled away, revealing her bare torso. India swallowed hard knowing that to struggle was futile. This dey would have his way. Her skirts and remaining undergarments were drawn off. One of the slaves knelt, and removed her leather slippers. She was half in shock. She had never felt so naked in her entire life.

Caynan Reis stood silent as India's charms were uncovered. His dark-blue eyes moved slowly over her. Her breasts were round and perhaps a bit small, yet they were incredibly lush. With the proper loving, those little fruits would ripen nicely. Her nipples were like unopened flower buds, all tight and hidden. The triangle of dark curls at the junction of her thighs would be removed, of course, but he could see the mound beneath those curls was plump.

The dey stepped down and stood before her. "Look at me!" he commanded her, and when she did, he reached around her and fondled one of her buttocks. Then his hand smoothed its way down her back. "You have skin like the finest Bursa silk," he told her. He then moved in a leisurely fashion about her. She had beautiful limbs, well shaped and not too thin. Her legs were long, her feet small and slender. He put his arm about her suddenly, and drew her back against his body, cupping one of her breasts in his hand. "Tell me the truth," he whispered in her ear, his fingers caressing her bosom. "Are you truly a virgin?"

India nodded vigorously, at first unable to speak. She was both hot and cold, and had to struggle to remain standing, for her legs felt as if they would give way at any minute. His large hand was splayed across her belly and felt fiery against her skin. She wondered if he could feel her trembling. Finally she was able to speak. "Of course I am a virgin," she gasped. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"Because you have told me you are in love with the milord," the dey answered her.

"I love him, but I am certainly no wanton," India murmured. "And if he had had me, would you set us free?" Oh, God! She wished his hands didn't feel so all-possessing. Every time he caressed her, chills raced up and down her spine.

"No, I would not set you free, although it would displease me to learn that another had traveled the path I have solely reserved for my own pleasure." His lips brushed her ear. "I am going to make love to you," he said softly. "I shall kiss you and caress you until you beg me to relieve you of the burden of your virginity."

"Never!" she half whispered vehemently.

"And I shall teach you how to please me." His big hand drew her head to one side, and his mouth branded her throat with kisses. "Tell me your name, my thorny rose."

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! And then she finally managed to say, "India."

"India." he breathed hotly in her ear.

"I am Lady India Anne Lindley, daughter of the duke of Glenkirk… I have a brother who is a duke… and another brother who is a marquis… I am rich and can pay whatever ransom you desire. Ohhh God! Don't do that! Please let me go, my lord!"

"There isn't enough gold in the world to buy you from me," the dey told her. Then his fingers teased down her torso, and, pushing his hands between her trembling thighs, he cupped her Venus mound within his palm. "You belong to me," he told her.

India collapsed against him. The touch of his hand in that most secret of places was simply too much for her. With a cry she fainted dead away. The dey caught her in his arms, and calmly handed her limp form to a eunuch. Brushing India's hot cheek with the back of his hand, he smiled to himself. Aruj Agha had been wrong. There had been a valuable cargo on the English ship, and as was his right, the dey claimed this cargo for himself.