“Any other man who attempted to visit you who is not my uncle or my father would find himself with his throat slit,” the prince told her seriously.
“Then I shall certainly tell Marco not to reveal the location of my home to anyone else, my lord,” she said. “I should not want the blood of innocents on my hands.”
“Azura, this is serious,” he said. “It is unusual for the family of a woman such as yourself to come visiting under such circumstances. I don’t want to allow your brother here, but I can see it means a great deal to you. I will always strive to please you, beloved.” He sighed. “You know how much I love you.”
“Loving me does not mean just possessing me, Amir,” she said, gently chiding him. “You must trust me, for I would never betray you in any way. I have an opportunity to do what so many women who are brought to the empire do not. I can tell my family I am well, and gloriously happy with you. Happier than I have ever been in all of my life. Being your wife suits me even if I must share you with Maysun and Shahdi. That is what I would tell my brother so he may tell our family. Let there be no doubts about how I feel. I love you, my lord Amir. Only death will part us.”
“I am a jealous fool,” he declared.
“You are,” she agreed, “and I am flattered by it, but I shall see Marco and reassure him of my happiness. Whether he agrees with me or not, he will tell our family what I have said.”
Marco Pietro d’Angelo was brought across the Sea of Marmara and through the Strait of the Bosphorus into the Black Sea. When the ship anchored just off the north coast he could just see the white marble of the palace on the green hills above. He was rowed ashore, and met by a tall, handsome, fair-skinned man with deep blue eyes and dark hair who didn’t look foreign at all.
“I am Amir ibn Jem,” the prince said, introducing himself. “Welcome to my home.”
Marco bowed in spite of himself. The man before him had presence and dignity. “I am Marco Pietro d’Angelo, Bianca’s older brother,” he responded. “I must assume you have brought me here so I may see my sister.”
“Come!” the prince said, not bothering to answer his visitor’s question. “We must climb this hill to get to the palace where your sister awaits you.”
The prince climbed easily and quickly, but Marco, not used to physical exercise, was slower. By the time they reached the top of the hill he was puffing and out of breath.
Amir smiled wickedly to himself. Azura’s brother would have to climb that hill each time he came to see her. He would be quickly gone. “Your sister awaits you in the garden, Marco Pietro d’Angelo,” the prince told his winded guest. Then he pointed.
Marco looked in the direction the prince pointed. He saw a veiled female figure dressed in a violet silk robe standing quietly. “Bianca?” He walked forward, and when he reached her Marco recognized his sister’s beautiful eyes above the sheer veil.
Azura lowered the delicate silk covering her face. “Marco,” she said, smiling at him. Then, leaning forward, she kissed him on both cheeks and, taking his hand, invited him to sit with her. “Why have you come?” she asked him. “You have distressed my husband by your actions.”
“Your husband? You are married?” He looked surprised.
“Under the laws of this land, yes, I am Prince Amir’s third wife,” Azura said quietly. “Did you believe I had been kidnapped and forced into carnal slavery?” She laughed. “I’m sure Mother spread such a rumor, for to admit that her daughter loved an infidel would have been beyond her.”
“They said you screamed and struggled when you were taken from your bridal vessel,” Marco told her. “It created a great to-do in Venice, and a scandal when the doge refused to intervene with the sultan.”
“It was not me who was taken from that flower-bedecked gondola,” Azura said. “It was Francesca. She was in love with Enzo, and I knew Amir was coming for me. So we conspired to switch places that day.” She then went on to explain to her brother how when Amir discovered that the veiled bride was not Bianca he had with Francesca’s aid returned to their grandfather’s palazzo so they might again switch places. “Did Francesca finally capture Enzo’s heart?” Azura asked her brother.
“No. He was married three months later to an Orsini. A widow who had produced two sons for her late husband,” Marco told her.
“Ahh, poor Francesca,” Azura said sympathetically. “Is she married yet? I’m sure another husband was found for her.”
“Grandfather sent her back to Florence. He said he was too old to have to contend with young marriageable girls any longer. He claimed that both you and Francesca have disgraced the Venier name. Mother was furious, as you can imagine.”
“Yes, I can indeed imagine,” Azura said. “Are the others well? And our father?”
“All thrive,” Marco told her.
“I am glad,” Azura said. Then she arose. “You may come and see me again tomorrow, Marco. And you will tell me then why you have sought me out.” Turning, she left him standing surprised by her departure.
A slave was at his elbow. “I am to escort you down to the beach, sir,” he said to Marco. “You will be taken back to the vessel, and my master says you are to return tomorrow at this same hour.” He led the guest from the prince’s garden and back down the steep incline to the shore, where a small boat was already waiting to return Marco to the anchored ship.
Marco Pietro d’Angelo was disappointed. There were so many questions he had for Bianca, but she had controlled the conversation. Still, he had been told he might return. He would ask his questions then, and this time he would get his answers.
Chapter 16
Azura watched him go from a window in the harem. He had grown into a man in the almost four years since she had seen him. Yet he seemed a stranger to her in many ways. She had seen the many questions in his eyes. She would have to answer them if he was to depart satisfied. Amir’s arms went about her, and she leaned back against him.
“You are sad,” he said.
“Yes, oddly I am,” Azura admitted, “but not by the life I lead. Rather by the knowledge that my family has not yet come to terms with my decisions.” She told him what her brother had told her. “I can but imagine how angry my mother was to have her plans for me thwarted, but to have her second daughter sent home in disgrace must have been terrible for her. It will reflect upon my two other younger sisters, I fear. I wish I didn’t know. I wish Marco had not come.”
