Pure as Sin

PROLOGUE

Love is but another sin. Only when pure is it forever, a Pure Sin.

The words of the old gypsy came back to haunt Anna. Would her three children ever know this love, pure as sin, such as she and Sharif shared? Her thoughts drifted to them.

Jasmine, willful, beautiful, her head full of dreams, still longing for a man as strong, as wild, as her father, as she herself. She would settle for no less.

Jamie, their eldest, loving and strong but always cautious, making little time for the fairer sex. He gave much and took nothing for himself.

Storm, handsome and reckless, was like the rainstorm of his name; sweeping from flower to flower, bending them to his will, their nectar freely given, their petals spread for his enjoyment. Yet he always moved on to the next blossom. And still they enticed him, vying for his attention.

They were, each in their own way, in need of being, of obtaining, that love, that state, that was as

CHAPTER ONE

-Northern Italy 1740

He had stopped to gaze at the morning mist, now but a rainbow ending in the meadow. Alexei sat straight in the saddle gazing down at the vision below. A magnificent white stallion, his long tail of silver matched by flowing black locks of a woman rider, broke the mist into colors, each kissing the summer grasses as they scattered.

A smile creased Alexei’s face. It had been a boring journey so far but mayhap that was about to change. She was alone, riding fast but not being pursued. He reached into his saddle pack for the spy glass.

She rode without a saddle, her knees spread to hug the steed’s broad back. And she was young and shapely. He replaced the glass and with a dig to his horse’s flanks, leapt forward to the chase.

His angle to cut her off alerted her. With a glance over her shoulder she leaned into her mount’s neck and there was a burst of speed. Alexei laughed, enjoying himself.

Almost beside her now he held back. His horse was more powerful but his view of the girl teased the senses. Her full skirt and overblouse of white wool appeared soft, clinging to her curves. Crimson leather boots were the only color save for beads at the end of a white woolen scarf that belted her small waist. The wind caught the blouse, billowing the full sleeves, pulling the neckline away from a slender throat.

Her steed lengthened his stride as his pulled even and he reached out, snatching her into his strong arms. She dangled against him and her arms came up to circle his neck in self-preservation. He caught his breath, inhaled her scent. She smelled of some wild flower, heady, intoxicating. Her dark hair wrapped about him as he drew rein, bringing them both under control.

Green eyes, slanted upward at the outer corners, shot fire at him. She was breathing hard, every breath pressing her against his restraining arm. Hers dropped from about his neck and now pushed against his bulging muscles.

Alexei broke into a large grin. The whitest of teeth flashed against his swarthy complexion. His eyes were narrowed, now looking into the sun. Black curling lashes, so thick they came close to obscuring his eyes, made half crescents on his high cheekbones. Then he looked down at her. Clear blue, a deep blue-too beautiful for a man’s eyes. Tiny crinkles that smacked of laughter edged their corners. He was laughing now, his thumb stroking the underside of her breast where his arm captured her.

Jasmine was caught between fascination and fury. Before she could make up her mind he had reined to a halt, sliding her to the ground. Throwing his leg over the mare’s neck, he dismounted easily beside her.

Her expression was set, her lower lip in a pout. Not fair. I would have won. Pegasus could outrun that steed of yours easily.

He couldn’t believe his ears. A race? You are worried about a race? It could be that I intend to ravish you-or worse. A beauty like you out here, all alone-. He stepped closer to her but she did not retreat. To prove his point he caught her shoulders and kissed her, a light kiss, to be sure but still a thorough kiss.

Her response was virginal. Her lips refused to part until he forced them. Only then did they soften but when he released her she was staring at him, her eyes open in question. Was she that innocent? Had she never been kissed by a man?

Their eyes held for a moment. Jasmine swallowed. Indeed, her father had kept her innocent. No young man would have dared take liberties with the daughter of the former Prince Sharif Omar. Not that she hadn’t had suitors but none that pleased her. Well, there was that mistake in Paris-but the man had never been alone with her. Thank goodness that one had ended.

This man was different. He held himself erect, as a prince, as her father did. He was tall and well-made. His arms and chest were muscled where he’d held her without strain. His black hair was thick and cut rather short although it curled about the nape of his neck. And he tasted-. Her eyes dropped to his lips, full, sensuous, lips. Her own lips parted just before he pulled her to him again.

Alexei watched the expressions reflect her curiosity, approval even. When she stared at his mouth he felt more than a twinge of desire. He caught her waist to hold her still and covered her mouth with his. His kiss was pure seduction this time. Her response was slow to start but flamed into heated fire, as unexpected and sensuous as any he’d ever known. He felt heat spread through him as her hand caressed the nape of his neck, her lips softening to mold to his. He was hard in an instant. He half-lifted her to press into the cradle of her hips.

She struggled against his chest, her heart beating hard against him. Contrite, he lowered her to the ground. He was as intrigued as she, his heart beating as fast. Never had he reacted to a mere girl in such a way.

She met his eyes, her tongue tasting of him on her lips. He almost groaned watching the play. She backed away.

I’ll get your mount. It was all he could think of to say.

She shook her head, setting black silk in motion. No need. She pulled her eyes from him and turned, giving a strange, birdlike, cry.

The white stallion, which had stopped nearby, raised his head and came to her. Before Alexei could stop her, she had climbed onto a rock and mounted in a spring-like leap.

Wait. I’d like to see you again. Are you camped nearby? He stood beside her, the stallion dancing. His hand now on her thigh, he smiled up at her.

So, he thought her a gypsy, did he? Jasmine gave him no answer. She wanted to see him again but had no idea how it was to be. She ignored the heat of his hand, leaning over to pat her horse’s neck.

His glance fell on her slender fingers, well-shaped nails, the ornate black and gold ring on her third finger. It was surrounded by tiny diamonds. Fool. Whatever or whoever she was, it was not a gypsy.

Without a visible command, the stallion stepped sideways away from his touch.

Your name. At least tell me your name. Suddenly it was very important to him.

Jasmine. I am Jasmine. She didn’t look back. He watched until she disappeared into the trees across the meadow then mounted and rode at an angle to the direction she had taken. Perhaps when he reached his assigned destination someone would know of a Jasmine. He didn’t have the time to waste mooning over a lone female. His body disagreed, bringing his thoughts back to her again and again on the long ride.

When she reached the trees, out of sight, Jasmine slowed and looked back at the stranger. He stood where she’d left him. She felt his lips on hers, savoring the sensations. So, that is what a real man tastes like. Her mother’s words had not done it justice.

She thought of her short-lived betrothal to the French nobleman. An extremely wealthy friend of her grandfather’s, the marquis had seen her at court on only one occasion. He had pulled political strings to demand her hand in marriage. There was no reason to refuse although she barely knew the man. He was of middle-age, handsome, courteous. Her father had agreed since she had repeatedly turned down any suggestions for a husband. She was on her way with her parents to formalize the arrangement when he was killed in a riding accident. Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief.

The marriage was to be rushed for some reason that had to do with inheritance. He wished an heir immediately. Jasmine shivered at the thought of the unknown’s hands on her body.

The journey had not been a total loss. Shut in the coach with her mother for days on end, she had been thoroughly instructed in her coming duties to please her husband. Her own parents’ love-life would be the envy of anyone. If she could make her mate adore her in that way, then surely she would be happy.

She’d absorbed her mother’s expertise like a sponge. Not shy, she had asked questions and stored away the answers along with the observations she’d made when her parents thought her abed. Her mother’s training to please a man in the eastern manner certainly kept her father by her side.

Perhaps having a man make love to you would be even better than his kiss. She’d felt his arousal against her belly. It excited her. He’d wanted her, and all she’d done was kiss him. She completed the ride back in a daze of daydreams, the stranger centered before her. Perhaps she’d been too long choosing a husband. Her father was right.

Sharif was pacing in the stable yard when his daughter returned. The sun was full up. Arms akimbo, his legs spread as aboard ship, he waited for her to dismount.

Where have you been, Jasmine? You are a stranger in this part of the country. You know better than to take Pegasus out without my permission-and alone.

You know I can handle him, Father. She threw her arms about him, kissing his cheeks. Please don’t blame the grooms. You see, I didn’t even wake them-no saddle. Her laughter was magic.

Sharif laughed back at her. She was hard to scold. His black brows met as he attempted to scowl but she caught his arm as they headed back to the villa.

Ah, well, I pity the husband you choose. He will have his hands full. You know we are invited to dinner and dancing at Duke Victorio de Torreni’s tomorrow. Our meetings are near finished and he is entertaining some diplomats and hopes the presence of lovely ladies will smooth the approach. I think he’s invited the entire countryside.

She wrinkled her nose. I hope they’re not all old men; or at least, that they are handsome old men. She patted his cheek and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. Better not to run into her mother, dressed as she was.

She was well aware this meeting was of some importance to Tuscany, else her father would not have come. He did not usually dabble in politics. No longer a prince of the Eastern world, he kept a low profile. His business florished with his trade connections and numerous sailing ships.

Her older brother, Jamie, had just been made captain of his own vessel. Her younger brother, Storm, sailed with their father still. He would soon be sent to France to spend a year with their uncle, Michel DuBois, to broaden his horizons. Then she would be truly alone. Time she thought of a husband.

CHAPTER TWO

Alexei’s mission represented Austria, the deceased Habsburg Emperor Charles VI, the new Empress Marie Theresia. Everyone present knew the background, the traditional enmity between the Habsburgs and the Bourbons. The War of Polish Succession which had ended in 1735, but six years before, had put Tuscany into limbo until now.

Austria lost Naples and Sicily to Don Carlos of Spain by the first year of the war. With them went all hope of Austria’s becoming a sea power beyond the almost landlocked Adriatic Sea.

Struggling to hold its slipping but still powerful position, Austria lost again through Marie Theresia’s marriage to Francis Stephan, the young Duke of Lorraine. Madly in love, the marriage of the young couple was sanctioned by France only if Lorraine returned to French control. Francis Stephan, thereafter known as Franz Stephan, was forced to hand over his family’s lands of Lorraine if he married the Hapsburg heir. Franz Stephan became a landless prince. He agreed to accept the duchy of Tuscany in its place.

In 1740 Marie Theresia, pregnant with her fourth child, had ascended the throne. Her father, Charles VI of Austria, died when she was just twenty three. Within three months of her father’s death she faced the immediate loss of huge portions of her empire.

Crowned Queen of Hungary she could not attain the position of Holy Roman Emperor, the supreme crown, due to her sex. The Elector of Bavaria, backed by the French, was laying claim to the Habsburg hereditary lands. One after the other, ignoring the treaties of the Sanction signed with her father, her allies were dropping away.

The Prussians defeated the Austrians at Moilwitz. France and Bavaria prepared to carve up the Habsburg Empire. Each boundary, each border, became suspect.

It was now 1741. Alexei was in Tuscany to smooth the way, to feel out the current atmosphere. Alexei had spent the day at the table covered with papers and maps. The Duke was a hard bargainer. He wasn’t at all sure the terms would be accepted when he returned to Austria. He looked around the table at the other men. Some were there only for dress, their florid faces and paunchy bellies a reflection of easy living and too much wine. Others, lean and hard, watched his every move, weighing his words.

As I’ve stated before, our Empress has given birth to a fine son, heir to the throne. But-the Bavarian army is threatening to invade Austria, to test her strength. A French army is on its way to join it. We must have your support, knowing you are not a knife at our backdoor. Concessions will be made on local rule until matters are more settled.

Alexei’s eyes were hard as he surveyed the men gathered around the table. No sooner had Charles VI died than Frederick of Prussia had moved in and grabbed Silesia from the new ruler. Frederick, although still an ally, would always be suspect in the Empress’ mind. Her hands were full without strife in Tuscany. This needed to be a safe haven but Florence was rife with intrigue. Spain and France were always stirring the pot.

Directly across from him was Prince Sharif Omar Abdul, known now as simply Sharif Omar. He understood the title was in name only but the man fit it well. A tooled leather patch covered one eye, an accident in battle, no doubt. He and the Duke, their host, were the only two in the room that Alexei trusted.

The Prince’s remaining eye, a piercing green, met his in question. One brow raised, he awaited Alexei’s answer. And what had been the question? His thoughts had wondered. The man reminded him of someone, but who?

Alexei pushed back his chair. They’d been at it since dawn and it was now six in the afternoon. It’s been a long day. I will set the details to paper and present them when I reach Vienna. I wish you well, gentlemen. He rose, nodding at his host and at the Prince. I’m sure I’ll see you all again at the festivities tonight.

At his departure, low voices began to argue again. Prince Sharif watched the scene a moment more, then took his leave. He instinctively liked the man Austria had sent as their representative. Strong-willed but fair, of good family, a Prince in his own country. He’d see that Jasmine met him tonight; it could do no harm.

There were at least fifty at dinner, with more invited to the dance afterward. Prince Alexei Alexander Gregorin wore his dress uniform, resplendent with gold braid and medals. He was enough to impress the whole of Italy with the splendor of Austrian might. Every woman there paid him court, old and young alike.

Jasmine had been seated on the same side of the table and five seats away from the honored guest. Other, considered more eligible young ladies, were seated across from him. Thus she had only seen him amidst the other ladies until after the meal.

I would like to present my daughter and wife to you, Prince Alexander. Sharif had managed to separate the man as they adjourned to give the ladies time to freshen themselves before the dancing began. He caught the resigned expression in Alexei’s eyes and laughed. That bad, is it? Perhaps we can forget the introductions.

Alexei grinned, his expression contrite. I would be honored to meet your ladies. You are one of the few present that could peak my interest.

On their return to join the women, Sharif spotted his wife, Anna. He noticed the man at his side’s sudden attention. He cleared his throat and Anna turned. Disappointment, quickly hidden, flashed in the deep blue of Alexei’s eyes.

Anna smiled up at him. She had caught the expression. She acknowledged the introduction. I believe you thought I might be our daughter, Jasmine, My Lord? We’re alike from the back, I think. She’s here, somewhere. She looked about the room.

He should have known. The green of Sharif’s eye, the slight slant. The golden hue of her skin even lent knowledge of the eastern influence.

Servants were completing the task of moving furniture to clear the floor for dancing. About the edges of the room hovered the guests. Many a dark eye flirted with the tall stranger but his gaze passed them by.

A group of young men, and some not so young, were gathered about someone in the hallway. Unable to see who it was, Alexei instinctively knew it was Jasmine. He arrived at her side just as the music began.

Eyes the color of dark jade looked up at him and his heart stopped. Several male voices were asking for the first dance. Neither of them heard the queries. He held out his hand for her and she took it, moving to his side.

A waltz, in his honor, no doubt. He held her as close as he dared. He was unaware of the satisfied expression of her father across the room. Sharif took Anna’s hand and joined the couple on the floor. For a moment no one else was there.

Sharif passed them in a swirl of Anna’s skirts. May I present my daughter, Jasmine, Prince Alexander? Both men broke into smiles. Then Alexei’s attention centered on his partner.

So, you are not a gypsy, after all? His hand shifted on her ribcage. Her skirts wrapped about his long legs as they twirled.

Are you disappointed? The game becomes more difficult, hmmm? Her eyes laughed up at him. Excitement filled her. Oh, she wanted to taste of him again. She felt his muscled thigh as it brushed hers and she went weak.

Only more complicated, the stakes higher. He smiled down at her, wanting her alone, just the two of them. I will have the next dance with you, and the next,-.

His sensuous lips lowered and for a moment she thought he would dare to kiss her, here, before them all. But he bent instead to her ear, his voice now a whisper.

The scent of you, it is jasmine, isn’t it? Wild, sweet-like you. His warm breath tickled her ear. He moved his hand over her back where he held her. She glanced around her but no one appeared to notice.

His head was still lowered to hers. Just a slight turn of her cheek and her lips brushed his. They both felt the tingle as though lightning had touched.

Gods, what was it about the girl? Alexei jerked upright, his normal aplomb deserted him. A challenge, was that it? Her eyes were filled with innocence. Well, two could play at this game.

The music had stopped. She was waiting for him to escort her from the floor. His eyes dropped to her lips, lush lips that parted just so. His mouth descended, one arm caught her waist lifting her to him.

There were gasps, followed by nervous giggles from some of the younger set. Her hands were against his broad shoulders but her mouth answered his, opening for his tongue’s invasion. The music began again and he was aware of dancers around them, avoiding them.

He released her, his heart beating much too fast. His eyes had darkened to a navy hue, smoldering. They just stood there for a minute although it seemed an eternity. He thought he saw her blink back tears but he wasn’t sure. Then she turned and ran from the floor, threading her way between the moving couples, and down the wide hallway.

Dumbfounded, he followed. When her father caught his arm he stared at the man as though at a stranger and his hand dropped. All Sharif said was, My daughter is pure.

He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, to hurt her. It was a game, wasn’t it? And she had liked it. He was sure of that.

It was a long hallway leading out into the garden. Stairs curved to the upper floor. He tried to think what lay behind each closed door. She hadn’t had time to ascend the stairs. The first door was locked and he tried the next.

Jasmine was standing before the half-opened shutters. Moonlight streamed through the wide slats.

She didn’t turn when he entered, locking the door behind him.

It wasn’t intended to embarrass you. He took her shoulders and turned her to him. There were no tears, only a trembling when he ran his hands down her arms, caught her fingertips and brought them to his mouth. I didn’t think. I’m not rational when I’m with you.

She laid her head against him, and he kissed her hair. She’d worn it pulled to the side and over one shoulder tonight rather than in the more fashionable upsweep. He was glad. He hated the ornate, stiff hair styles.

She looked down, pushing from his arms but he didn’t let her slip away. His hand caught the long strand of curls about his fist, pulling her head up, gently bringing her to him again.

You’re beautiful, so beautiful. He nibbled at her lips before taking them, teasing as he touched. Loosening her hair, his hands roamed over her breasts, her hips.

At last cupping one breast he felt it grow heavy for him, the tip a tight bud. He rubbed the bud and she moaned, leaning into him. Her arm came up to circle his neck.

He loosened his jacket, opening his shirt front, and brushed against her. One hand kneaded her bottom, holding her there.

Jasmine was in a swirl of emotion. She didn’t want his touch to leave her. She slid one hand inside his open shirt, stroking the hard male muscles, her fingers reveling in the crisp curls of his chest. She felt his nipples tighten as her hand moved over him and sighed in contentment. The masculine scent of him was overpowering.

Vaguely she heard his murmured, Wait. Then his mouth was doing wonderful things to her, his tongue laving the delicate skin between her breasts, swirling to pull a taut nipple into his mouth. She thought she would die of the pleasure.

Then it stopped. He was breathing hard, as was she. He took off his jacket, pulled his shirt from his trousers. Her dress buttoned down the front, dozens of tiny pearl buttons. His fingers trailed down her throat to the shadow of her cleavage to the topmost pearl. He stared at the tiny obstruction, then met her eyes.

Take it off. Slowly. I want to watch, to see you in the moonlight. Without releasing her eyes, he opened the shutters.

He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She wanted him, wanted to please him. Slowly she undid the tiny pearls, barely breathing. Her gown gaped open little by little to reveal her lace chemise. He reached out to peel it away and it puddled at her feet.

He slid his hands down her, each movement a caress, and lifted each foot from the skirts. He knelt, gathering the short lace of her chemise into one hand and kissed the soft flesh beneath. His tongue ran upward and she quivered with each tender stroke.

She caught his hair in her hands to anchor her trembling, burying her fingers. She felt a surge of hot moisture between her legs, a raw ache of need nestled, waiting for his touch. He spread her legs slightly and touched his mouth to her curls. She jerked, arching into him, her gasp caught before it became a moan.

He stopped but continued stroking her. Then again, his fingers parted her and his tongue touched, licked, sucked. She pulled away, sinking to her knees before him, unable to stand. Her lashes fanned over her cheeks in dark half-moons.

He held her to him, then lay her down on the thick rug. His hand cupped her there, his fingers sliding back and forth but not yet entering her. He was whispering sweet words in her ear, his tongue swirling first down her neck, then teasing her mouth. His manhood was huge, thrust angrily against the constraint of his trousers.

He wanted her with a desperation he hadn’t known he was capable of. Was she knowledgeable enough to know what was happening? He wanted no duel with her father. He moved away in an attempt to dampen his own emotions.

Jasmine snuggled closer, her body arching in an attempt to touch him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t stop now, would he? Jasmine ached for him to complete what he had started. She swallowed, trying to remember how one was supposed to please a man.

Sliding her hand about his waist she found the buttons and released them, pushing his trousers away from his hips. She heard his sharp intake of breath as her hands slid over his buttocks. She reached within, her hand covered his shaft, teasing in her ignorance. Ah, the wonder of him. All pulsing muscle, long and thick and hard. The sleek tip was like silk, touched with a drop of dew. He moved in her hand and her fingers pushed lower to cup him in her palm. She shifted closer, mummering against his throat.

By God, her father had said she was pure. She was pure, all right, pure as sin. Alexei almost lost control as her fingers kneaded him. He caught her hand, forcing it away. The scent of her arousal was driving him crazy.

He looked down at her, settling himself between her legs. He raised one brow in question but when she made no objection he kissed her again, his tongue mimicking what was to come. She squirmed beneath him, her hips undulating. He could stand it no longer. His shaft filled her, plunging to the length of him, pushing into the promised paradise. Vaguely he was aware that he’d met a barrier, that her nails dug into his shoulders, that she had stiffened. Still he rode her like one posessesd. The tight fire of her fit him like a velvet glove.

Her hips began to accept his rhythm, rising to meet him. The pain of his entrance was subsiding, no longer of importance. The pleasure intensified, building in swirls of heat as she rode their crest. Jasmine wrapped her silk clad legs about him. She tried to remember what she was supposed to do to be sure he would want her again. Her own world was hazy, filled with sparks of fire, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t remember. Her nature took control, her sheath tightened, her inner muscles milked him. He groaned, no longer rational. His body tightened, bucked, and he exploded into her heat. His release triggered something deep inside of her and she reached the stars with him, her sheath teasing his length as she melted into submission.

His long body was heavy on her but it’s very weight made her feel complete. Contentment, peace, beauty. Was ever a man so perfect, so wonderful? She laughed softly when he nuzzled her neck.

He rolled from her, his hand splayed now to cover her belly. Jasmine? I couldn’t stop, couldn’t think. Do you know what we just did? When she said nothing he lay back, exhausted. Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin? I had no idea. Your behavior begs a man to take you, not the hesitation, the unschooled ignorance of-.

She leaned upon one elbow and looked down at him, pushng a black curl away from his forehead. Her tongue touched the beads of perspiration on his brow. He tasted as good as he smelled, erotic, slightly salty, male.

Perhaps it’s the Eastern influence-my mother’s instruction when she thought I would be soon wed. This loving is much nicer than described. Even so, you are my first man-my first kiss even. She touched his lips lightly with her own. Her fingertips played over his face, memorizing it.

A twinge of jealousy stung at his gut. How many were you planning on having? He was having trouble making sense of his emotions.

Just one. I’ve been waiting all my life for you.

He caught her hand, kissed the fingertips. I’m on a mission. I must leave tomorrow. You know that. He saw her sudden hesitation as she pulled her hand from his. I’ll come back. I will see you again. He didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t just propose marriage. He hardly knew her-not that that mattered but he was expected to marry royalty or at least-he thought of his mother. She would be horrified. He, himself, should be horrified to be considering it. He wanted to laugh at himself. Until tonight he had thought not to marry until forty at least. And he was usually careful to withdraw before-.

Suddenly amused at the situation, he pulled Jasmine to him, burying his face in her hair, in the scent of her. He was so happy. Shouldn’t life be about happy? And she was beautiful, her family acceptable. He would attend to business first then return and propose properly. After all, he was past thirty. A wife did not preclude a mistress later if one became bored. At the moment he could not imagine ever being bored with her in his bed.

Jasmine touched the ring on his little finger. If only he would give her a token, anything to say she meant something to him. The ring was of twisted gold; a falcon, symbol of his coat of arms, the only adornment she recognized. He’d made no offer, nor would he. She was a fool but she knew she’d never love or want another man as long as she lived. She ran her hand up his arm, trailed light fingers over his chest.

I wanted you to take me, to teach me. I’ve never met anyone I wanted before. If you do not wish. She met his eyes in question, her heart in her eyes. Suddenly she felt very young, inexperienced. If he didn’t marry her perhaps he would take her for his mistress. She could be close to him, love him. Oh, but the thought of sharing him with a wife already caused pain.

Her beauty, sensuous but innocent yet, melted his heart. Such a rush of feelings swept over him he felt dizzy. Was this love? He kissed her kiss-swollen lips, his touch tender. She was so perfect; full of fire, his to teach, to pet, to love. He laughed softly, his mouth against her cheek.

You’re pure as sin, sweetheart. You’re my sin, my passion. I would take your body all night if it were not your first time. He removed the ring and slipped it on her index finger. He kissed it there and closed her fist so it wouldn’t slip off.

He pulled her to her feet, straightening his clothing as he did so. He ran his hands over her once more then dropped her gown over her head, his fingers moving to help with the tiny pearl buttons.

They laughed as their hands got in each other’s way. He combed her hair with his fingers, pulling it again over one shoulder. But then it was time to part-before they were discovered.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again. He felt the stirring of desire sweep over him. How could she stir him with such ease? Her teeth nipped at his lower lip and he hardened again, his hands reaching under her skirts to caress her leg.

My parents will be leaving. We have an hour’s drive to the villa where we are staying. Father only came for this meeting, for you and the offer you bring. I must go.

Jasmine-I will come back. She nodded, her face unreadable in the dark. The room lost its glow when she left. He stood staring out at the garden. Above him an owl soared, seeking prey; a bad omen. Would to God his mission went well and he could return to claim her soon. War was in the air.

Duke Victorio de Torreni had joined a departing couple at the entrance when he caught sight of Jasmine slipping out of the closed room. She hurried up the stairs, her hand winding a curl back into place. Intrigued, Victorio lounged against the doorframe to see who the gentleman in her tryst had been.

He was startled when, some ten minutes later, his honored guest quietly closed the same door, nodded to him, and re-entered the ballroom. Instinctively the duke looked about for Prince Sharif but he was nowhere in sight.

So, the innocent daughter was probably innocent no longer if he knew Alexei’s reputation. It would bear watching. An idea began to take shape.

The duke had lost his wife of ten years to illness a year before. They had no children, a deep regret of his. Wealthy and powerful, he could have had his pick of young ladies but there was one important stipulation. His future wife must bear him an heir.

He had not considered the daughter of his friend, Prince Sharif. She was already near twenty and unwed, supposedly because she found no man pleasing. Headstrong but beautiful, with her black hair and green eyes, she was also not of his native country’s blood. She did not like him and this had always annoyed him. Not that it mattered, a wife did what she was told to do.

CHAPTER THREE

Alexei did not see Jasmine again that night. He did, however, ask about her family. He even engaged her mother, Anna, in conversation. The learned facts seemed favorable.

Her father had converted to Christianity and had a thriving shipping business with factors in Marseilles as well as several minor ports. He was wealthy and though no longer a prince had trading rights throughout the Mediterranean. Sharif’s mother was French although his father had been high in the Ottomon Empire; no one seemed to know exactly who he was.

Her older brother, Jamie, had recently taken command of one of his father’s ships. She and this brother were very close. Both siblings had spent several years, off and on, in France with their mother’s family. The grandfather was Comte Andre DuBois, also a marquis, and his lineage impeccable.

The younger brother, Storm, still sailed with their father and was under a tutor when land-bound.

He would be sent to Paris soon to stay with his uncle, Michel DuBois, and his family, as had his sister and Jamie.

When in this country they lived in a villa on the coast. It was several days travel from the Duke’s where the diplomatic conference had taken place. They would be leaving the next day, as would most of the guests.

Satisfied that he could find her again, Alexei was in a better mood when he rode out just after dawn. He’d had little sleep but he’d turn in early the next night; better to put distance between himself and the others that had convened. His mission could be construed by some to be against the interests of Tuscany. French and Spanish operatives were at work.

Two days later, he sought passage in the nearest seaport to cross the Adriatic Sea. It would be faster and he wanted to return to seek Jasmine’s hand in marriage. The farther he was from her the more he wanted her. The land journey was safer by far but a ship would cut days from his return. Unwilling to sell his favourite horse, he chose the only vessel that could accommodate the animal. The crew was unsavory but it was clean and seaworthy and the captain seemed agreeable. He paid above the asking price for speed.

Once in the open sea the captain showed his true colors. He was a Barbary pirate, had only been in port following another ship but it had escaped. He saw Alexander as a ransom well worth the risk of his capture. Overpowered, Alexei was soon bound and on his way to their landbase further east.

Disgusted with himself, his own desire to put speed over caution, Alexei yanked at the chains that held him in the hold. His head ached, clotted blood coated his hair where the club had caught him. Failure in his mission to secure Tuscany for Austria, failure in his personal life to secure Jasmine for his own-he beat his fist against the bulkhead. He’d be lucky if he lived through this fiasco.

At last they made a port, not one he recognized. The men sent to fetch him spoke no language he knew. There were minarets towering over the low rooftops and several times he heard the call to prayer ring out. He was moved to a cell under a stone building. A single small opening near the ceiling allowed meager light and air. The room was bare and had only a hole for bodily functions.

It was two days before food was brought although a skin of water was passed through the opening in the door. Weak from hunger, he welcomed the sound of approaching men. Surely now there would be bargaining. The door opened. A jovial man in rich robes stood without between two burly men. In French he greeted his prisoner.

Alexei glared at him. Were you planning on starving me before the ransom? Perhaps my kin should pay by weight. To hell with politeness and diplomacy. He took a threatening step forward only to be slammed back against the wall by one of the giants, his arms caught in vise-like hands. Two swords were now unsheathed and at his throat.

The fat little man burst out laughing and slapped his thighs. He turned, speaking to someone behind him, then resumed his French.

My apologies, My Lord. We weren’t expecting one so worthy of our attention. As soon as you complete the ransom request you will receive nourishment. He motioned to his follower who handed him writing materials.

There was a small bench with set-in manacles in this outer chamber. The chubby fingers unrolled a document, already prepared with the demand for ransom. It needed only Alexei’s signature and a note of validity from him. He placed it upon the bench. One of the men held the lantern near, motioning Alexei to sit there.

Rubbing his arm which had been twisted behind him, Alexei sat. He read the document which was in French. Dear Lord but they thought him worth a fortune.

I do not believe I am worth this much to my family. Could we negotiate a more reasonable amount, one you would be sure to receive? My mother has no one to turn to for advice and I would not wish to rot here.

His antagonist stroked his short beard. You will sign. I have read the documents you carried. Someone higher than your old mother will pay to have you back. The papers, of course, will not return with you. They may be of interest to others-and worth a good price.

Alexei knew when it was hopeless but it had been worth a try. If I am released now I will give you my word, and you may keep the documents as collateral, that I will return with the ransom to retrieve the papers. They are worth a fortune only to a few. I’ll not sign under these conditions. Dear God, these men could start a war if they released the papers.

I’m not the fool you think me. Perhaps you will feel more like signing at a later date.

He rolled the ransom note up, handing it to the man waiting behind him. With a nod of his head the two guards took hold of Alexei, chaining him spread-eagled to the wall of this outer chamber, a room with no light and