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

thought herself able to resist Rajak’s allure, but now that she was in his presence again, she knew she could not. She was, at once, glad and regretful that she’d brought Oma along.
    “Won’t you have a seat, Your Highness?” Rajak asked, taking her hand and leading her forward to the low table.
    Silk cushions had been scattered along the floor and she gracefully sank down on them, adjusting her legs akimbo as was the custom. Rajak followed suit, taking the cushion next to her. His eyes smoldered whenever he looked at her, but he was thoughtful enough to remember Oma.
    “Come,” he invited. “Sit on the other side of your mistress.”
    “I cannot,” she muttered, obviously aghast at such a thing.
    “I insist,” Rajak said.
    “Come, Oma, do as he says,” Azara said. “You sit beside me when we are alone.”
    “B-but we are not alone,” Oma stuttered. “He is a great prince.”
    Rajak laughed. “I have come up in your honorable estimation, Oma, I am glad. You no longer think me a pirate?”
    Oma’s lips pinched together as she warred within herself. “You are a pirate prince, Your Highness,” she finally blurted.
    Rajak’s laughter rang out again, mingling with Azara’s chuckles. Oma blushed and grinned before hiding her face. The dinner proceeded with much laughter and light talk. Rajak spoke of what she must expect at Madagascar. Although he would see to her protection and that of her women, there would be little freedom for them to go unchaperoned about the island. Many unscrupulous men lived there who would not hesitate to seize her and try to ransom her themselves.
    “Since you have said you will not seek a ransom for me, would I not be better off to place myself in their hands?” she asked lightly.
    Rajak’s smiled died away and his eyes darkened. “You never want to fall into the hands of such men,” he warned. “Many of them would be swayed by your beauty and not bother with a ransom. But the women of such men do not last long. Life on Madagascar is difficult for men and women alike. When such men grew tired of you, they would give you to their men. I know you jest, but you must promise me you won’t try to escape.”
    “I can make no such promise,” she said with far more courage than she actually felt. “You have taken me against my will, and I must try to escape or my life is forfeit.”
    “Trust me, Azara.” He took hold of her hand.
    Oma, who had contented herself with stuffing her belly with as much of the bountiful food as she could, cleared her throat.
    Rajak ignored her. “You are safer with me than you will ever be with someone else.”
    He rinsed his hands in the small bowl of water and dried them then rose and held out his hand. “Come, it is time.”
    “Time for what?” Azara asked, although her heart squeezed within her chest and she was certain she knew what he meant.
    Leisurely, she dipped her fingers in the bowl of water and dried her hands then taking hold of his, she rose and stood beside him. His eyes held her captive. She must fight this attraction, she told herself and knew she would fail.
    Oma scrambled to her feet, grunting with the exertion. Breaking away, Rajak took the servant’s arm to steady her then led her toward the cabin door. When he opened it and stood back, Oma stared questioningly at him then at her mistress.
    “Good night, Oma,” Azara said, and her voice sounded far away as if she were speaking down a long tunnel.
    Oma hesitated a moment more then wordlessly left the cabin. Rajak closed the door behind her and turned to Azara, his eyes gleaming with passion.
    Azara felt an answering desire rise inside her. Quickly, he crossed the room and took her into his arms. His lips settled on hers, his tongue slashing across her mouth, demanding entrance. She parted her lips and thrust her tongue against his. A ferocious tide rose within her so she answered his lust with her own.
    Slowly, seductively, he disrobed her, removing one garment at a time,