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torture applied to the soles of the feet. ’Tis unbearably painful; you would not like it. I advise you to curb your tongue and willful nature.”
    “Why should I do anything you say?”
    “It will make your life easier if you understand the rules. Contrary to your belief, I wish you no harm. I would take you as my own concubine if I had not a better use for you.”
    “I do not want to be anyone’s concubine. I have a fiancé at home in England.”
    “Forget him and your former life. Ibrahim’s concubines are expected to devote their lives to pleasing him. Once your fiancé recognizes the fact that you will never return, he will find another woman.”
    Willow had little doubt that Dariq spoke the truth. Percy, Viscount Dimpleton, needed a wife to bear his heirand would doubtless seek another bride despite her father’s objections. But Willow wasn’t about to voice her doubts to the arrogant pirate prince.
    “Percy and Father will join forces to find me.”
    “You are delusional, lady.” He grasped her arm. “Come, I will escort you back to your cabin. Now that my men have looked upon your face, I must guard you well.”
    Willow was propelled inside the cabin. Dariq entered behind her and closed the door.
    “Am I to be confined to this cabin until we reach your island?”
    “Without your aba, I see no alternative. You should not have acted so impulsively.”
    Willow stared at Dariq, more aware of him as a desirable male than she had ever been with anyone. He was magnificently masculine and imposing in a harsh way. His tanned chest, exposed by the open neck of his shirt, rippled with muscles. His legs, encased in baggy trousers thrust into boots, were as sturdy as oak trees, and his arms beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt were thick and browned by the sun. But it was his face that was most arresting.
    Unlike his fellow pirates, he was clean-shaven, his longish black hair tied back with a leather thong. But it was his mesmerizing silver eyes that held her captive. Forcing her eyes from his face, her gaze slid down his body, noting with alarm the assortment of weapons he wore upon his person. A scimitar hung from a wide leather belt at his waist, and thrust into the belt were a dagger and a pistol.
    “Keep looking at me like that and you will find yourself on your back beneath me,” Dariq warned in a low growl.
    Willow looked away, her face tinged with red. “I did not mean … that is … I was just sizing up my enemy.”
    A slow grin spread across Dariq’s face. The golden-haired houri was staring at him as if he were anything but her enemy, as if she wanted to devour him. Not even Safiye, in their most intimate moments, had looked at him like that. A great shudder passed through him, and he had to forcibly restrain himself from pushing her onto her back and making her his.
    “I am not your enemy, little one. Tonight, when my men are sleeping, I will take you for a stroll around the deck. But first you must find something to cover your hair.” He opened the door. “Next time you want to do something so foolish, think twice about the consequences.”
    Dariq left the cabin in a strange mood. No wonder Captain Juad was happy to be rid of Willow. The woman obeyed no one, following only her own dictates. Like his mother, Willow was obstinate and willful. His mother had willingly entered the harem as Murad’s wife and never regretted it because she had loved her husband. But Dariq knew that Willow would never love Ibrahim; what woman could love a man capable of killing his own brothers?
    “Damn obstinate woman,” Dariq muttered.
    “The houri has you talking to yourself,” Mustafa laughed. “You should have let Captain Juad keep her on his ship since you are both sailing to the same port.”
    “Aye, I should have,” Dariq allowed, “except I felt the need to keep my eye on her.”
    “I pity Ibrahim.”
    “Nay, I pity Lady Willow. She will never conform to harem life and will suffer for