Free The Harem Bride by Blair Bancroft

forever, winding through the
labyrinthine corridors of the bazaar in an overwhelming array of
color. There were linens and muslins of every weight, velvets of
such deep pile Penny could not keep from petting them. Silk satins
so heavy they could only be for used for draperies, or perhaps an
empress’s long, flowing train.
    Even Miss Cassandra Pemberton was awed. “We
will have to come back,” she pronounced. “Obviously, fabrics
require a day unto themselves.” She waved a hand, which might
almost have been described as agitated. “Faik, we will continue on
and ascertain what more must be reserved for a special
excursion.”
    “ Jewelry?” Penny inquired
hopefully.
    “ Possibly,” Miss Pemberton conceded. “I
have never cared for it particularly, but you are reaching the age
where you will need a few good pieces. And I pride myself that I am
knowledgeable enough to tell the genuine article from bazaar
fakery.” Once again, she waved her parasol, and their small
cavalcade moved on.
    As they passed by more antiquities, they
caught glimpses, through arched colonnades, of sparkling gold,
silver, and gems. Yes, there was little doubt jewelry, both antique
and newly crafted, would require a separate trip. And then they
came to carpets, and Miss Pemberton realized it was quite possible
she would have to hire at least half the hold of a stout merchant
ship to take their treasures back to England. Although carpets,
too, would require yet another separate trip, neither Penny nor her
Aunt Cass could pass on by. The area was vast, rounded arches
dividing the space into smaller rooms, many with domed ceilings.
The ladies oo-ed and ah-ed and touched the heavy pile, the
incredibly tight weave of carpets of every shade from brilliant
burgundy and gold to soft pink, blue, and cream.
    Penny ran her fingers over a small fringed
carpet of azure blue and biscuit and discovered that it was silk,
not wool. Her lips turned up in a whimsical smile. Perhaps this was
a magic carpet. If she were to sit upon it and make a wish, where
would it take her? Into Jason Lisbourne’s lap?
    Shocked by such a wayward thought, Penny
dropped the carpet, blindly following the direction in which she
had been wandering. No pastels in this room. The carpets were dark
and masculine, in strong shades of black and red and gold. Carpets
for the floors of rooms where only men gathered. They were,
somehow, too harsh for female taste.
    Penny wrinkled her nose, lifted her eyes from
the riotous display of color . . . and found herself alone. She
turned, gazing at the many arches lining this particular room.
Through which one had she come? Which led back to Aunt Cass, to
Faik and Abdul? To safety?
    The nearest, of course, silly, she told
herself, and started toward the rounded arch.
    Something descended over her head, over
her arms. Rough hands seized her, clamping tight over her mouth and
around her waist. The something tightened around her face. She couldn’t breathe. Her feet
lifted off the floor. Penny kicked out wildly and was rewarded with
an oompf from her captor. And
a blow to the back of her head. She knew no more.
     
    ~ * ~
     
     

Chapter Six
     
    “ Faster, man faster!” Viscount Lyndon
barked at his driver, hoping the urgency of his tone would convey
his meaning, even if the words themselves meant nothing. Jason
Lisbourne, usually engulfed in the mindless cloak of invincibility
common to youth everywhere, was unsure why the urgent tone of
Cassandra Pemberton’s note should have filled him with dread, but
the moment he read it, he had canceled his plans for the evening
and set out for Miss Pemberton’s villa, situated almost halfway up
the southeastern slope of the District of Pera.
    The child. Young Penelope. She must be the
source of the problem. Nothing else would have reduced Miss
Pemberton to near incoherence. And he, of course, was the only
family connection available. It was only natural she should turn to
him, though what he could do—Jason