Chapter One

June 1824

Glasgow Scotland

Victor, Arie’s best friend and confidant, sat back in the plush chair with a glass of brandy in his hand, grinning, feeling like a besotted fool. “I took care of the little matter at hand. I believe you will be somewhat pleased. She is rare. A fine gem.”

“So, the lady is ready to see me?”

Arie Demir had been too long without a woman. The little redhead he saw in the restaurant caught his attention. Victor always made sure he got what he wanted. The moment he saw this woman all thoughts of Chelsea vanished from his head.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Victor laughed, his mirth rolling off his tongue, his gaze and smirk focused on him. “Unless you want a battle on your hands. Alison Donovan is a spitfire. Her personality seems to fit the color of her hair. You’ll have a devil of a time taming that one. In the end you may not want to. She will talk to you but anything else…” Victor shrugged his broad shoulders, a wide smirk still on his face appearing to enjoy his friend’s discomfort. “My advice, proceed with caution. Perhaps at this point, bribery should be contemplated. Possibly you can win her over with the promise of jewels.”

“Jewels? By all that’s holy, I own the woman.”

“She is Scottish to the core. Doubt if she has the same belief.”

“My ladies are not able to teach her what will be expected of her? What you will expect when you go to see Alison. Still… there is potential. Hers is a beautiful woman’s body, ripe to give pleasure a man will remember and come back for more.” Arie rose, striding around the room, his gaze traveling upward to the rooms above. “They are not doing their job?”

“As I said, she is a redhead Scotswoman, born and bred, stubborn to her very core. Thinks she is free.” Victor followed the direction of Arie’s gaze. “This will take time and untold patience. I’m confident in the end she will see you as you wish her to see you.”

“I should talk to her.” Arie headed toward the staircase. A loud thud reverberated throughout, rocking the walls of the house then a scream that rent his pore eardrums. “What the bloody hell was that?” He started forward, held back by Victor.

“Hold it right where you are. I’ll see what just happened. I’m assuming, nothing good.” Victor didn’t wait to see if he followed his directions but raced to the top floor.

All Arie saw was Victor’s back as he sped upstairs. With a huge breath of air, Arie sat down, sipping his drink while he waited for news. He didn’t have the patience for this. What did he expect? She was nothing like the women he was used to dealing with. In her home men might have dominated her, but she probably was able to come and go as she pleased. She’d been his prisoner now for days, held captive in the rooms on his third floor.

He’d already endured a lecture from Chelsea MacEwen, his friend, about buying women. Old habits were hard to break. Just because he was a foreigner in Scotland, didn’t mean he could change his true colors with a snap of his fingers or a lecture from his favorite lady. He would have wed Chelsea if she’d been willing to become his fourth wife. She was not. Arie didn’t think she was even willing to be his first wife if that had been possible. The lady was deeply in love with Cam MacEwen, her husband.

Restless, Arie didn’t want to remain inside the stuffy confines of the house. He stepped outside, leaning against the porch railings, staring at the stars and the moon. Chelsea told him about the stars along with the facts her husband Cam taught her. He’d been impressed. Cam had more facets about him than Arie realized at first. He wasn’t even a sailor. He knew more about the stars than most sea captains. Arie had been surprised to discover Lord MacEwen was an expert in his field, astronomy, giving many guest lectures at the university. As well as possessing a title, he was recognized for his intelligence.

A few minutes later Victor stood beside him, leaning on the railing, gazing at the brilliant night sky. Silence echoed around him for several minutes, dark brooding silence even drowning out the animal sounds. When he turned, Victor had a broad grin on his face, which belied the mood he found himself in.

“I take it everyone upstairs is still alive.” Arie heard his deep breaths as well as the beat of his heart.

“Perhaps you should talk to Alison now. You’ve more patience than I have,” Victor said laughing as if he knew something about the lady’s present mood. “You should hear her words for yourself. A second-hand rendition is never good. No, it’s just never a good thing to hear about something from another man’s point of view.”

“Not sure I’ve the courage to confront the Scotswoman. She’s a delicate wisp of a thing. I’m down here cowering in my boots wondering about her mood.” Arie let out a long breath of air before finishing his drink. “I want her too much. Doubt if I can be objective where she is concerned.”

“She doesn’t like the lock on the door or the clothing you’ve granted her. Doesn’t seem to realize she has it a hell of a lot better here than in the whorehouse you rescued her from. Don’t know how you’re going to go about enlightening her though. She doesn’t see things the same way you do.”

“Doesn’t appreciate the finer points of slavery.” Arie’s laugh didn’t reach to his soul.

He’d promised Chelsea he’d treat this lady right. She was human. Well, it had been several days since he bought Ali. At this point in time, she was still far from compliant. He gave her more than any other women he owned. He thought she would understand that fact but she didn’t.

“She has no idea what waits for her and even if she does, what she doesn’t understand is the difference between you and serving several different men every night. To her it’s the same. Both scenarios are repellent to her. She thinks she should have some say in her future.”

“Perhaps I should leave her alone for a few more nights.” Arie turned his attention to the light shining out the third-floor window. He put her on the third floor because he knew if Chelsea was in that room, she would find a way to escape. He prayed Ali wasn’t like that, reckless to a dangerous point, willing to risk anything as well as her life to flee from him.

“Not all women are the same as the MacTavish girls,” Victor reminded him pointedly, following Arie’s gaze. “She might be feisty, but I doubt if she’ll try to shimmy down that wall to the ground. It’s a sheer drop and few would survive unscathed.”

“She’d most likely kill herself if she tried. I don’t think Chelsea would have tried this one either.”

“No, there aren’t enough sheets in Alison’s room for her to tie them together so they would reach to the ground. I made sure of that,” Victor grinned wickedly. Arie was sure he was thinking of something amusing about this situation. “Well, if you want to talk with her, you should probably go now. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait.”

“Why? What difference would an hour make, or another few days?” Arie watched her, unsure of himself for the first time in his adult life. She was standing in front of the window, staring outside. Candlelight from her room caressed her hair, displaying the multitude of brilliant colors. He had an urgent need to run his fingers through the wild vivid strands, wanting her more now than the first time he saw her. Chelsea’s beauty dimmed when he looked at Alison.

Victor lifted his shoulders nonchalantly, his smile broad. “She might be angrier in another hour. Who knows what she could be like in the morning, a redheaded Scotswoman? A tigress? Right now, she is somewhat biddable. I believe she’s had several glasses of wine although she didn’t touch her food. Might work in your favor, might not.”

Arie ran his hands through his hair, frustrated by the situation, understanding all the rules he lived by for twenty-five years would not be applicable now. Ali lived by a different set. “Don’t know what I’d say to her. Just want her in my bed, willing to give herself to me.”

“Tell her why you bought her. Make her position in your life clear so there will be no second-guessing. In time, she will come around to your way of thinking. She needs to comprehend how much better her life will be with you than in a whorehouse or on the streets. After all, you have her best interest at heart.” Victor strode into the house, pouring another glass of whiskey, chuckling softly, still clearly amused.

“Doubt if she’d like my reasons any more than she enjoys being locked in that room, even though I’ve given her the entire floor. More than any other concubine I’ve owned.” Arie figured he’d never be able to get close enough to the girl to seduce her to his way of thinking. “Maybe you have a point, but I expect you to be outside the door to rescue me if anything turns violent.”

“You could bring her a gift,” Victor repeated his earlier suggestion, holding up his hands to make his point. “Don’t ask me what. No, wait a minute. You could bring her real clothing. Something you can’t see through. I believe she would appreciate the gesture.”

“Doubt if baubles or clothing would ease her temper. She doesn’t seem to be a lady who wants monetary things.” Arie was stroking his chin, wondering what he could bring that might soothe her displeasure with him, completely ignoring the suggestion of clothing.

“She might like some clothes.” Victor nearly laughed, repeating himself again.

His suggestion didn’t go unnoticed by Arie.

“Then she might be more inclined to find a way down the side of the house. I don’t intend to offer her the chance to kill herself.”

Arie was wondering about a dress for her. She might not be appreciating the harem clothes he’d given her. They were, after all, meant for a man to appreciate, not the woman. As for appreciating her, he hadn’t even seen her wearing the soft lavender harem pants and bolero top.

“You don’t want to chance her escape. She’d die on the streets,” Victor said, all amusement vanishing. “We both understand that fact. If you point the fact out to her, I’m sure she’ll comprehend what you are trying to tell her, perhaps even come around to your way of thinking. You are a true savior to that girl. She has no one else.”

“How will I know? I can’t just give her a dress and unlock the door.” He was thinking of the MacTavish girls. They would bolt the second they got the opportunity, see through clothing or none at all. Allison would die on the streets, either that or find herself abused by men. He meant to treat her special.

“You have to go to her and explain why she is here as well as her options,” Victor said.

“She has none,” Arie said, glancing upward once more.

“Exactly.”

“I rescued her.” Blood pounded in his head, the ache growing which each thud.

“That you did,” Victor said agreeably.

“She should appreciate me.”

“All true.”

The silence between the two men was long and drawn out. Arie reconciled to meeting with Alison. She would come to recognize and accept her fate then he would treat her with the care and respect she would deserve. He thought on everything Chelsea told him days ago. It was nothing he wanted to hear, but he did listen and her words changed the way he meant to deal with Ali. Giving her the freedom Chelsea suggested was never an option in his mind.

He gave her time and space to adjust to her new circumstances. Shouldn’t she be adjusted by now?

He was a coward, he surmised thoughtfully, afraid of a tiny redheaded girl who stole his breath the first time he saw her. Victor had done well by him. He followed her and procured her for him before she was forced to entertain her first client in the whorehouse. Ali’s circumstance decreed she would fall into his arms. From his vast experiences when given the chance, all women fell into his arms. But…

She fought Victor and railed against him, holding herself aloof as if she was royalty. Still he stood at the bottom of the staircase, sweat dripping from his brow to slither down his cheek. He’d never felt this way before. If he could, he’d give Ali everything she asked for.

Except her freedom.

He could never do that.

Victor stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps you should give Ali her autonomy then she’ll fall into your arms. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Let her know she can come and go as she pleases.”

“She would run. She has nowhere to flee; no money, no clothes, no nothing. She’d die on the streets or be violated,” Arie said, wiping his brow with his sleeve, his hands shaking.

“Alison is not stupid. She has figured out that someone, most likely her stepfather, sold her to the whorehouse. She knows you bought her. She will also understand she cannot make it in the outside world without help, most likely from a man. Perhaps you will have some bargaining chips with her if you present these facts to her.”

“You think so?”

“No, but it’s worth a try. Right now, Alison is not thinking clearly. She does want to run from you and from all the bad things that have happened to her this last week. She might not have led a sheltered life, but I do believe she is an innocent in many ways. If you want her, you need to treat her as a virgin as well as give her your respect. She deserves nothing less.”

“A virgin?” Arie didn’t understand the words coming from his friend. This was a surprise to him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with another innocent. “No wonder she is protesting so vehemently. Still I cannot believe she has never known a man intimately.”

“I think so. However, I’ve been wrong about other things. When you first saw her, I was sure she would be quite willing.”

“So, where did we go wrong?”

“We didn’t know the circumstances of the sale. I do now. It seems Fletcher Donovan and his nephew sold her. Apparently, the mother was in agreement. However those two men turned on Alison’s mother. Sold her home and left her penniless. As we speak, she is destitute and on the streets.”

“She probably got what she deserved. They all need to be punished. It was Donovan and Leod who captured Chelsea and sold her to the same whorehouse. We should find the mother so we can see how she is faring. On second thought, I’m sure the Madam can find a suitable position for her at the brothel.”

“The Madam too?” Victor asked a brow arched in obvious disbelief. “Not sure she had any idea what was happening.”

“She was greedy and wanted the money. Was contrite when I confronted her. This information about Ali is new to me.”

“All the more reason to make sure Leod and Fletcher disappear forever. Leod apparently did not learn the first lesson I gave him.”

“All will be taken care of,” Victor said flashing a huge grin. “Just give the order.”

“I want them taken and sold to a man who prefers men,” Arie said, a smirk on his face. “I do believe that to be a fitting punishment for the two of them who are willing to abuse women for their own gain.” He nearly stopped himself on those words because he understood that unknowingly he abused his women. He had three wives. All but one barely tolerated him. The third wife said she loved him nevertheless…

Maybe that was a lie too.

“I will take care of it in the morning. I’m going upstairs with Tessa for a few hours. I do think you should at least introduce yourself to your new concubine and decide for yourself on the next course of action.”

Arie inhaled a long deep breath of air, downing his drink in a gulp before heading up the stairs. By the time he reached the top, he was breathing hard and sweating more profusely than at the bottom of the steps. The climb wasn’t the cause. The fear of the confrontation was. He had a lot to prove to himself. He didn’t know if he could change that much.

He nodded to the man stationed in front of the door, “Don’t come in no matter what you think you hear. Not unless I tell you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Arie stared at the doorknob for a few seconds before he slowly opened the door. Alison was still standing at the window, dressed in the see-through lavender harem pants and bolero jacket he gave her a few days past. Without a second thought, he grinned, appreciating the view, the finely sculpted curves. From the back she was just as beautiful as he imagined, her vibrant red hair spilling to below her waist, curling around her, tested all his senses.

“Alison?”

“Go away.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” He stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. The outside lock turned as he walked toward her. “We need to speak, to understand each other. I need you to comprehend why you are here rather than the brothel.”

“Who are you?” Her voice quivered when she spoke.

Her shoulders were stiff. Still she didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to see her face. Her visage was etched in his memory.

Arie understood this would not be easy between them. Now, he wasn’t sure if she was terrified or angry, perhaps both. He hoped it was anger causing her body to shake. Anger he could deal with much easier than fear. He prayed she didn’t cry. There would be no tears. Despite the lecture from Chelsea, Alison wasn’t going anywhere. She was his for as long as he wanted her.

In any case, Ali had nowhere to go. Donovan sold her house after selling her to the whorehouse. She had nothing save what he would give her.

“My name is Arie.”

He stood beside her, looking out the window, his body barely touching her shoulder. A crescent moon stood out in a cloudless sky while brilliant stars emerged as the city lights dimmed even more with the hour.

“Then, Arie, what am I doing here?” she asked, her voice tense. “You have no right to keep me prisoner.”

“Do you want me to be brutally frank?”

He smiled, wondering exactly how she would react when he gave her the truth of her existence now.

“Brutal?” she queried, her eyes wide as she turned to look at him, her hands fisted at her sides. “Everything that has happened to me in the last couple of days has been brutal. I’m a free woman. You’ve no right to hold me in this house.”

“You didn’t answer my question. I find I cannot continue on without an honest answer from you.” He smiled, realizing this woman was not afraid of him; defiant yes, angry yes, but not afraid.

She turned away from him, her hands on the windowsill seeming to support all her slight weight. He was afraid when she learned the truth she would no longer be able to stand on her own.

“Why would you be anything less than honest?” Her voice quivered while her shoulders trembled.

“Perhaps you should sit down first.” He turned to the pillows and bedding gracing the floor behind them. “Have something to eat, a sip or two of the fine wine I’ve procured for us. You should relax.”

“I’m not hungry or thirsty. I don’t want to relax.” She moved to look at the pillows then him. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

He shrugged wishing she would at least eat something even while he was enjoying the beautiful play of emotions on her face, “Suit yourself.” Striding to the pillows set out for them, he held his cup out and a servant poured wine.

Relaxing and making himself comfortable, he sipped the liquid, watched her as she swayed slightly. She must be exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to make her life more comfortable, yet she was refusing at every turn.

“You really should sit down before you fall down,” he said, patting the place beside him.

Slowly she walked toward him. For a few seconds she stood. Finally, she sat down as far away from him as possible. “I need to know the truth. What is it you want from me?”

“Ah, finally.” He poured her wine and motioned for the servants to leave to an adjoining room. “You should sip it slowly.”

She held the wine in shaking hands, her green eyes huge. She coughed slightly with the first sip. “I’ve never had wine or any spirits.”

“A delicacy you might learn to enjoy. I can give you anything you want.” He held his breath waiting for a response. “Your life with me will not be a bad one.”

She seemed to bristle, her chin rising. “What I want is to leave this place and you behind me.”

For a moment his heart sank. He slowly smiled. She would come to his viewpoint when he explained the facts to her. “Where would you go? How would you eat? You have no clothing.”

Her body seemed to wilt at his words before she stiffened with seeming determination. “I’ll find a job.”

“At the whorehouse?” he asked smoothly, hoping to make his point.

“No, I’m not a whore.” She drank the entire glass of wine. He filled it again, hoping she would begin to relax.

“Do you have any skills?” He wished she would understand she had few alternatives except whoring. “If you go out on the streets, you will only end up in a whorehouse or worse. I suppose if you were lucky you could find employment as a nanny or a wet nurse if you gave birth to a child of your own. Do you have an education?”

“There are worse things than a brothel?” She inhaled a long shaky breath appearing to think over what he said. She asked again. “What do you want from me?”

He no longer knew what to tell her. If she thought this was worse than a brothel, she was sadly mistaken. It would be hard to convince her she was wrong. “You could be out on the streets with no roof over your head, no food and no clothing.” Frustration filled his soul. He needed to shake some sense into her. “I offer comforts I’m sure you never received at home. Inevitably, I would like you to warm my bed. I do not give things without expecting something in return.”

It seemed she did not listen to him. “I’m your prisoner though. What is it you want in return? All men do.” Her fists were clenched at her sides and if there had ever been a threat of tears, it vanished.

“If we please each other you could become my wife.” There it was an offer he had not meant to introduce to her at least not now. He didn’t understand why he blurted that out to her. The suggestion wasn’t tenable.

“Is that what you want me for? Another wife?” Frown lines creased her brow. “I won’t be a fourth wife.”

“How did you know?”

Gossip had never been something he could abide. It seemed his servants were doing just that. Gossiping. There was no other explanation for her knowledge.

“There was talk, silly chatter from the women who were trying to teach me things you would want me to know. There was nothing intentional or malicious about the facts they talked about. It was just women talking about men.”

It seemed to Arie she sensed his anger. “So you say.” They were all women. Of course she would defend them. “Well,” he paused, thinking it was time for a change of subject, “do you care to show me what these fine women taught you?”

She blushed sweetly before turning her face away. He almost laughed. Dancing in the way of his people was not easy.

“I’ve two left feet. My hips don’t move the same way theirs do. For that matter they don’t move at all.” Her voice was lighter. It appeared she was laughing at herself.

For a second it seemed to him she forgot her anger as well as her desire to escape him.

His chuckle was soft, not meant to laugh at her. This was the first break in their serious conversation. “You should show me what you learned.” He poured them both more wine, hoping she would loosen up some more, at least enough to show off her fledgling skills.

“I don’t think so.”

She sipped the wine, leaning back and pulling a pillow across her front, hiding the delightful swell of her breasts below the tiny jacket meant to reveal more than conceal. “You would only laugh or be appalled.”

“Soon then,” he prompted, disappointed she would not perform for him but encouraged that soon she would be more at ease.

Perhaps this talk with her was a good thing. Victor had been right.

“What will you do for me if I dance? Not really sure one can call what I do dancing but…” She was smiling, her laughter soft.

“What do you want?” He picked up a strand of her hair and held it in his hands. “So soft, silken, fire in my hands. Is every part of you this soft?” he murmured, staring at her lips, wanting desperately to kiss her, feel the moistness of her mouth.

“Soft…?” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your hair is like fire and it burns my soul.”

She pulled back, “What will you give me if I dance for you?”

“I repeat, what do you want?”

“To go for a ride on my mare.”

“Your mare.” Arie rubbed his chin, thinking. “Your entire household was purchased. Everything. Doubt if the mare is still there.”

“You have the means. I’m sure you could offer whoever bought her enough money to buy back my mare. Please find the dear girl and buy her back.”

“Dance for me and I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”

~ * ~

Alison had not expected the swift compliance to her wishes. Strangely, she wasn’t terrified of Arie. One could say she was more fascinated by him than she could have ever imagined. She’d never met anyone like him. One could say he was unique.

Frustration and confusion had filled her since she first woke up in the brothel where she found herself dressed in a flimsy see through gown. It seemed to her she jumped from one fire into another when Arie bought her at the auction. She ended up in this third story room several days ago. Now she had some hard decisions to make.

Ali didn’t want to be attracted to him. No, she wanted to despise the man who sought to make her a prisoner, a concubine. His personal whore. How was that so different from being confined in a whorehouse? Ah, his smile though sent a jolt straight through to her heart seeming to melt it.

Now that she’d seen him, talked to him, she could never hate him. His deep brown eyes shimmered with humor, some knowledge she wanted him to tell her. She just didn’t know what it was he hid behind those dark brown eyes of his. They seemed to draw her to him. She’d never met anyone comparable. His muscled chest was also something she’d never seen before. The sight left her with a nearly uncontrollable urge to touch him, to run her hands along the smooth, hard muscles.

Mesmerized by him, she had an uncanny need to please this man, wanted to reach out and touch him.

Dancing for him would not please him. “If you promise not to laugh at me.” The thought of failing as miserably as she knew she would left her shaking not with fear but with feelings of humiliation even while she wanted to laugh at herself.

“I would never laugh at you.” Arie was grinning though.

He had no idea. She knew he would laugh. It would not be possible for him to keep the amusement behind his teeth. “Then you are a saint.” She rose then and inhaled a sharp breath, flashing him a smile. “Do I get music?”

Arie clapped his hands and two of his servants appeared. “Music for Ali.”

With that said the music played. Alison began to move her hips as she believed she’d been taught. She was awkward. In no time she was winded from the ungainly attempt at belly dancing. The tempo picked up speed. She knew a shimmy was next, but not one part of her body seemed to work. Humor seemed to fill her then as she saw the look of utter shock on Arie’s face. No, he wasn’t laughing at her, he was horrified by what he witnessed.

“You’re not pleased.” She stopped, dragging in deep long breaths of well needed air.

The look on Arie’s face was nothing she’d seen before. All her fears about the man vanished, at least for the moment. She fell on the pillows next to him, unable to stop the laughter bubbling up from deep inside.

“I want you to know I’m not laughing, but under the circumstances I’m having a devilishly hard time fulfilling my promise.” He choked on the sip of wine, the liquid sputtering across his chest as a deep humorous rumble shook him.

She wanted to touch him, clean the liquid, reaching out she almost stroked him before she drew back her hand. His grin now was broad. His even white teeth glistened in the candlelight.

He nodded for the other women to leave and filled her glass again. “You know what you just did?”

“Earn my mare?” She accepted the glass but set it on a nearby table, feeling as if she shouldn’t drink anymore, her mind a bit hazy.

“More than that. I will also bring you something else to wear when we go riding. I enjoy your smile as well as your laughter. I want to spend more time with you. I also want you in my bed.” With the back of his hand, he tenderly touched her cheek.

“Thank you.” She looked down, hiding her surprised expression from him, unwilling to show him her gratitude. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you is quite enough,” he told her, rising from the pillows. “You look tired. You should sleep. I’ve the feeling you’ve managed very little sleep since you arrived here.”

She sat up, staring at him, at the broad expanse of his chest, wondering what he would look like without clothes. “What if I don’t want you to leave yet? I’ve been lonely.”

“You want me to stay?” He sounded astonished.

Ali moistened her lips. “If you don’t mind. You could tell me something about yourself.”

“We do need to speak about why you are here and your options. It seems you might be settling in now. That is good, very good. I’m pleased. I would like you to be happy and if not happy at least content.”

“I still want my freedom,” she bristled. “You will never own me.”

“So much for progress,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression I wanted your attention.”

She suddenly didn’t feel the least bit magnanimous. Her earlier anger simmering deep inside she realized the emotion would never be assuaged by a gift from a man who could afford anything.

“I understand. You only want me to buy your mare for you, but you don’t need or want anything else to wear.” He stroked his chin, his grin disappearing.

It seemed to Ali she had lost what little ground she made by dancing for him. He would not come around to her way of thinking. She stood then, accepting another glass of wine despite the fact she didn’t want to drink it. At the window she gazed at the moon. It appeared the same as when she looked at it from her window at home, no longer her home.

From behind her he spoke. “You’ve gone through a great deal of trauma in the last few days but Ali,” he paused seeming thoughtful, “you are mine and the sooner you accept that fact the happier you’ll be.”

She whirled on him. “Never!” With a great deal of purpose, she strode to him, tossing the liquid onto him and dousing his shirt. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she realized what she’d just done to the man who held her life in his hands.

For a few seconds he appeared shocked then a slow smooth grin spread across his too handsome face. A moment later his shirt was on the floor and he was bare chested, standing his hands on the fasteners of his soaked britches. Ali gasped at the pure male beauty she saw. Then her eyes widened as he was suddenly very nearly naked, his britches on the floor beside his shirt.

He clapped his hands and a woman appeared from a side room. “Would you please bring another pair of pants?”

“A shirt too?” she queried.

“Don’t believe I want one. I find it’s incredibly warm in this room tonight, perhaps getting hotter.”

It seemed to Ali he searched her face for some sign of contrition. She didn’t feel anything but awe as she stared at him unable to remove her gaze.

She pulled her lips together, retreating to the window and the incredible manly view. The long breath she inhaled was shaky, her knees trembling as she felt his presence so very close to her. Although he didn’t touch her, she felt the heat emanate from his large, muscular body.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice shaking, afraid of retaliation. If she’d done something like that to her so-called father, Fletcher Donovan, she would have been thrashed. He would have enjoyed taking a whip to her back.

“Only your sweet compliance, but I’m resigned to the fact I will have to work harder to achieve that which I seek.”

Still he didn’t touch her, just stood beside her. “It was an impulse. I know I shouldn’t have tossed the wine.”

“Of course,” he left her side. When she turned around, he was sitting on a freshly made pallet with new coverings and pillows. “We talked about brutal honesty. Come sit.” He was patting a spot beside him. “You should know what I need from you, yet I’m afraid you’re not ready to hear the words or accept your destiny.”

She was shaking her head no, even while she strode toward him, sweat sliding between her breasts. Ali didn’t want to sit. Standing was preferable when he held her future in his hands. Standing was preferable when she wanted to reach out and touch his chest, find out if it was as hard and unyielding as it appeared.

Then she did sit down, scooting as far from his as the pillows would allow. “Why am I your prisoner? Why did you say I was yours?”

He settled back, his arms spread wide on top of the pillows, his legs stretching out in front of him. “Because I bought you.”

“It’s not as simple as you try to make it. People cannot buy people.” She didn’t understand any of this even while she’d heard that Fletcher sold her to the brothel.

“People with power and money can do anything they please. It pleases me to own you and eventually reap the benefits of other purely sexual things. Whether you agree or not, you are mine. Now, no more discussion of this sort. Tell me more about yourself.”

She needed to figure out what all he said meant to her. “If I say no, what then?”

“It doesn’t matter what you say. I do care what you want but not where it concerns my ownership.” His words were calm yet measured. “You will always be mine. Unless of course, I grow tired of you of this silliness and sell you to someone else.”

“You can’t do that!”

His smile told her otherwise. A shiver of fear slipped down her spine. At least here she was safe. It didn’t seem he meant to abuse her.

For a few seconds, she looked away from him, remembering her life from a few days’ past. It had been fraught with hard work and sometimes not knowing if there would be a next meal. Looking around the room, she was amazed at the opulence, the food and everything else that adorned the space she lived in and wondered what his quarters looked like.

“It is better than the whorehouse, I assume. I would have been able to walk out those doors though. As you say, as your possession I’ve no choices.” She thought that might be true but wasn’t sure.

“Not until you worked for the Madam long enough for her to make a profit. She would also keep your door locked. You would be forced to service several men each night.”

“Do you have an answer for everything?”

She found she was bitter, not at Arie for taking what he wanted but for her circumstances, for Fletcher who set all this in motion. He spoke the truth. She didn’t want to admit it. “So, I would have been kept behind a locked door.”

“Yes.” He sipped his wine and ate. “You should try the food. It’s really quite good, much better than at the brothel. My cook is excellent. The spices he adds enhance the flavors.”

“How would you know?” she shot back, angry once again at his arrogance and all-knowing grin.

His chuckle sent her nerves on edge. “I’ve partaken of the food at said brothel several times. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to learn something about you besides your love for your mare.”

“She probably won’t be there if you still plan on buying her for me. She is very old and can’t be ridden.” She was plucking at the sheer pants she wore. “I’ll miss her even though she is a worthless nag. Obviously, I could not have ridden with you anyway.”

He leaned forward then, his hand on top of hers, stilling her restless motion. His fingers wrapped around hers and she was startled by the gentleness. “I will do everything in my power to find her for you. I’m not an ogre. She will be kept in my stable and whenever I’ve the time, I’ll ride with you. Not on your nag though. You must have a mare worthy of you. I’ll see to that too.”

“Promise?”

Her optimisms lightened. Perhaps he spoke true. She could only hope even though she understood there would be a price to pay for his generosity. In time he would collect. He wanted more than an awkward dance.

“Yes, what would you like to know about me?”

“Anything you would want to share. What makes you so confidant you can buy a woman and no one cares?” She didn’t want to sound belligerent but she couldn’t help herself.

“Ah, people do care if it’s the right woman. You have no man in your life. So, no one cares about your fate except me.”

“I’ve no one to care about me,” she repeated.

She found her heart was breaking. Once not so long ago she thought her mother cared about her.

“I’m confidant because I’ve always done what I pleased. I’ve lived my life in luxury with any woman who caught my fancy. You, my dear, catch my fancy.” He placed his finger beneath her chin, “Don’t ever believe that I don’t care about you. I do more than you will ever know. I want only the best for you. If you are pleased then I’m a man well pleased.”

“I caught your fancy?” Once again, she repeated his words, not really wanting to hear him agree yet beginning to realize she was better off than if she had not been a woman he wanted.

“The Madam told me you are not a virgin. Is that true?”

“Do you care?”

She bristled again, remembering a time when she had been forced to kiss a man but she had not been violated. Fletcher had watched, grinning like a besotted fool. He did nothing to stop the man who would not accept her no. Yet, he finally did step in and pull the man from her.

“No, but the truth will dictate how I proceed with you.”

Ali inhaled a shaky breath, watching Arie intently. “A man who lived nearby.”

She stopped then, turning to the window to stare outside at the stars. The moon was no longer visible from her position.

“Go on,” he urged.

“Fletcher thought I should wed this man so he brought him to me. I didn’t even know his name. He kissed me and I shoved him away. I don’t know if I’m a virgin or not.”

Once more she was plucking on her pants, pulling at the fabric. She tried to stop her trembling fingers.

“Just a kiss,” Arie’s voice was gentle and soothing.

“No, he didn’t like the fact that I pushed him away. He hit me, punched me in the stomach. I never knew anything could hurt that bad.”

His hand tightened around hers. “What did Fletcher do?”

“He ushered him from the house. I was surprised by that. He always hit mother when she did something he didn’t like.”

Arie’s fists tightened, his eyes growing so dark they seemed to turn to ebony. “I have guesses about that but none of them are important. I’m sure you are still a virgin, Ali. Think hard and see if you can remember the man’s name. I would like to speak with him. Is that the only kiss you’ve experienced?”

“Yes.”

He brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back then he looked at her. “Was it that horrible?”

She blinked a few times before facing him. “I liked your kiss.”

“That was hardly a kiss,” he laughed.

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze tugging at her hand, which he kept prisoner in his. “Still I liked the way your lips felt on my hand.”

“Perhaps before I leave tonight you would let me kiss you.” He moved from the pillow to stride around the room.

His back was broad and his flesh well-tanned such a contrast from her paleness. He was strong and proud. “I might like that.”

She was beginning to understand that her options were limited. Getting along with this man might serve her better than fighting and denying him the things he wanted. Perhaps she wanted them too.

“Good.”

She was sure he was waiting for her to come to him. Her feet wouldn’t move. “If I kiss you, can I have something else to wear, that dress you spoke of maybe?”

“I promised you your mare tomorrow because you danced for me as well as clothing if we are to ride.”

He laughed then and she wondered what he was thinking.

“What I did was hardly a dance.”

She smiled at him, felt the mood suddenly lighten again. She was heartily pleased with that.

“Perhaps I’ll give you two dresses then. Come here, one more if you kiss me.” He motioned for her, beckoning to her.

Her body seemed to have a mind of its own and refused to move. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she inhaled a long deep steadying breath of air. She knew she would like that kiss, understood once she gave into a kiss, she would never be herself again. The only way to have control over this totally confidant man was to deny him.

“I believe I changed my mind,” her words squeaked from her tight throat. “I don’t think a kiss would work. I’m sure two dresses is too extravagant. One will suffice for now.”

For a fleeting second his grin vanished. Suddenly, it was there on his face broader than ever before. “If that’s what you wish.”

He leaned on the windowsill, his back to her. She needed to know what he decided, how he was feeling about what she told him.

Ali stood beside him now, close to him, too close she decided when he turned suddenly his hands around her waist pulling her close. She knew she could break away if that was what she wanted. Instead, Ali closed her eyes for a moment before she let her lashes flutter open and gazed into his dark brown eyes, eyes that seemed to shimmer with raw passion.

His desire was evident.

Her heart raced so hard, she could not look away, could not refuse him as he slowly lowered his face so they were mere inches apart. “Do you want to kiss me? I would allow it if that is what you want?”

“Me kiss you?” she squeaked, her words barely audible.

“I would bring you some delicacy you might crave.”

Her hands settled on his chest, moving, exploring, prowling as if she did this every day. Beneath her fingers his muscles flexed. She was acting like a ninny. Something needed to be done here before she lost herself to this man who demanded things of her she wasn’t yet willing to give or even understand.

I can control him.

Controlling Arie would only happen when she kept her fascination with this man in check. Arie was everything in a man Ali ever imagined and knew was beyond her reach.

Beyond until now…

What would she have to do to gain his trust and respect? She would have to meet him part way and tempt him the other half.

Ali had no knowledge in the art of tempting a man. She didn’t even know the rudiments of flirting. Perhaps others in his employ would be willing to give her some hints, teach her. If they understood her motives though, they might relay the information to him and that would defeat her purpose. They seemed to tell him everything.

She inhaled a long-ragged breath, gazing into his eyes. “I can’t do that. Kiss you. I don’t know how.”

The moment the last words were said she regretted them. He would find some way to turn them around to his advantage. She smushed her lips together, thinking, wondering just what would happen next.

The only thing she craved was discovering what his kiss felt like, if his lips were as soft and warm as they appeared. She wasn’t about to let him know her thoughts and she had no reason to show him how inept at kissing she was, just as inept as dancing. He would be repulsed with her awkward kisses, send her away, give her to another man. She knew she didn’t want that.

Thinking she was way in over her head she pushed away from him, turning and walking toward the door.

“I’m tired now. It’s been a long day.” What a blatant lie. “Don’t you think it’s about time you left?”

She stood beside it, hands clasped in front of her, watching his grin widen and she wondered just how that was possible but it was a fact.

“Not until I get my kiss.”

He sat down on the pallet where she would sleep, relaxed, watching her intently. Still watching her, he lazily stretched out, his long legs taking up the length of the bed.

She pushed hair from her face, exasperated by this arrogant and very stubborn streak. “You should learn to take no for an answer.”

She remained by the door, wishing she dared walk the distance and give him what he wanted.

“If I recall you didn’t say no, just that you didn’t know how.”

“You should leave when asked.”

“Why, when I don’t have to? Perhaps I’ll stay the night.” He leaned back closing his eyes, his large hands behind his head. “This is comfortable. I made sure of it because one night, I hope in the not too far distant future, I’ll spend the evening here with you.”

“More distant than I’m sure you want to believe.” She nodded her head toward the door. “I’m also sure you would like me to act more docile, but it’s not in my nature.”

“Neither docile or subservient would satisfy me. Now, I’ll do what you ask as soon as I get that kiss.”

Her eyes narrowed while she stared at him, “I suppose you’ll have to stay the night.” At the same time, she was speaking the words she was looking around the room for a place where she could sleep.

“As you wish.”

He rose. For a moment she thought he meant to leave. He unfastened his pants.

“You can’t do that.” Her voice strained with emotions. She wondered what devil got inside her to challenge him this way. He didn’t care if he slept with her. It was after all what he wanted all along.

Now he wore only his small clothes. Her throat tightened when she thought… “No, I’ll kiss you then you can leave.”

“Ah, but I think it might be too late for that. I find this bed quite comfortable.”

“No, it’s not.” She rushed toward him, stumbled on the rug in her haste. Together they fell on the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The skimpy bolero jacket she wore rose. She felt the naked flesh of his chest against her breasts. Her nipples tightened with the contact. A tiny sound erupted from the back of her throat.

“I like this position. You on top of me. I didn’t even have to ask.” He smoothed hair away from her face. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Her mouth touched his. Quickly she withdrew. “There.”

“That was not a kiss.”

He laughed, his throaty chuckle sending shivers down her spine as she squirmed against him. His hands roamed the length of her back, up then down again, to finally stop on her bottom, pressing her against him.

“I told you I didn’t know how to kiss.”

“Try again. Make it last a wee bit longer. Perhaps you can give me a taste of your tongue. That’s right. I’d like to taste you. You would taste of the sweet wine you just drank.”

“My tongue?”

Her body pressed against his trembled with raw passion. How the devil was she supposed to control him when she couldn’t control herself?

“If you like.”

“If I like?” she parroted.

I’m smarter than he is, stronger, too, at least my will is stronger. I’m faster, my mind can be if I work at it.

“Press your lips against my mouth. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Ali pushed away from him, the tiny bit of distance making it easier for her to breathe. “Now you’ll show me.”

He grinned. “Any time.”

“Alright then.”

She lowered herself so close to him she felt the whisper of his breath across her cheek. She touched her lips to his, closing her eyes and wondering how much a bit more time was. Gasping, her lashes flew open. His hand was behind her head, holding her close. His tongue swept across her lips. She was tempted to touch his with hers but held back, wishing she understood more. A tiny sound mewed in the back of her throat as her hips moved against his belly. His other hand swept up her back, touching, exploring naked flesh. When she gasped again, his tongue met hers then withdrew.

Alison found herself sitting next to him, her clothing askew. Quickly, she righted her pants and jacket Everything happened so quickly. Now it was like nothing happened except she was hot, so very hot. Her body ached in places she never thought about before.

“Thank you,” he told her before slipping on his pants and walking through the door shutting it behind him. “You can sleep alone tonight.”

Breathing hard she raced to the door, tried to open it then collapsed onto the floor. Of course he locked it.

~ * ~

Victor relaxed in his room, Tessa, his favorite lady, handed him a drink before sitting down next to him. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close. He figured he had about an hour before Arie gave up on his third-floor quest and knocked on his door.

Arie’s mood would be questionable. So unlike himself in his dealings with this new lady, Victor found it difficult to read his friend. He didn’t understand how this one redheaded woman had Arie twisting within himself, tying himself into knots. She was beautiful, yes. But…

He needed to bed the woman, show her he would treat her with the respect she deserved. After that he could get on with his life. Instead, he let his good friend Chelsea MacEwen tell him how to relate to this new woman, a new concubine. He was so off kilter it would be amusing if his temper wasn’t frayed. A man could lose control in sensual matters. What he saw led him to believe Arie handed the control over to the redhead.

“You seem preoccupied. Have I done something wrong?” Tessa asked, stroking Victor’s chest and placing tiny kisses where her fingers had been.

She raked her nails across his belly. His body hardened again with the need she generated so easily.

“Just worried.”

He picked up her hand, kissing the palm, running his tongue there before nibbling kisses the length of her arm.

“About Arie?” she queried. “I know it’s none of my business but…”

“Hush.” He placed a finger on her lips before tracing them. “What you think or what I think will not change the way he goes forward with this new acquisition of his. She is different somehow. He is not his usual self.”

“I’m sorry.” She was immediately contrite. “I’ll go.”

He reached out to her, “No, we’ve time yet.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“Kiss me and I’ll show you.”

She was more than eager to satisfy him. She trailed her tongue across his lower lip, prowling inside his mouth along his teeth and deeper. Thrusting her tongue inside, he toyed with her, the sensual play delighting him.

More than an hour passed before the knock on his door woke him. Tessa left, quickly wrapping a robe around her and walking by Arie with a nod.

“I see you’ve had a better night tonight than I have.” Arie chuckled which surprised Victor.

“You’re in a good mood?” Victor pushed the covers back, rising and slipping on his pants. “Do you want to tell me anything?”

Arie was shaking his head while he poured them both a drink. “Would have liked to have stayed the night with her but…” He held his hand up, “Never expected that to happen in the first place. All in all, the visit went surprisingly well.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” Victor laughed, watching the man he’d called friend since they were just lads playing in Arie’s father’s harem.

“Not tomorrow. I’m going to make her wait for me. I’m going to take control away from her, take charge of the direction this is going between the two of us. Right now, she believes she has the upper hand. Is dictating to me. Not any longer.”

Arie tossed his head back and laughed, leaving Victor bemused and wondering what happened in the third-floor room tonight.

“What have you promised her?” Victor said, searching through the tray of food that was left over from earlier in the evening for something to eat. “Hopefully not the stars and moon.”

“Her mare. Told her if she danced for me, I’d see if I could purchase it for her.”

“Her mare? That’s all?”

“Yes, the horse is old so I’m afraid the people who bought her home might have done away with it even though it’s only been a few days since the property was sold.”

“What do you want me to do?” Victor asked, knowing that Alison most likely won the first round between them.

“First thing in the morning you should go to the farm and talk to the owner. Pay him anything he wants. Then see if there is anywhere you can purchase another horse for her. One she will be able to ride. I’d like to take her outside the room, give her a small measure of independence. She needs to feel sunlight on her face and fresh air to scent.”

“A taste of freedom?”

He arched a dark eyebrow in speculation. Arie was smitten.

“Just enough to let her appreciate what she has with me.”

“You plan on buying her suitable clothing?” Victor asked laughing.

“I promised her a dress for a kiss.”