Free The Pirate Prince by Connie Mason

thoughts to the business at hand as he returned to the
Mahmed
, where Mustafa was awaiting further instructions.
    “Send our wounded back to the
Revenge
,” he ordered Mustafa. “After the cargo is transferred, have the men gather up the sailors’ weapons. I will join you aboard the
Revenge
as soon as my business with Captain Hamid is concluded.”
    Captain Hamid waited nearby for Dariq, his expression churlish. “What besides your message do you want me to give to the sultan?”
    Dariq pulled open the pouch, removed the lock of hair and dangled it before Hamid. The captain’s eyes widenedas he gazed at the golden strands in Dariq’s hands.
    “You are to give this to Ibrahim,” Dariq said, dropping the lock of hair into the cloth pouch and pulling the strings tight. “ ’Tis all the proof he needs to know that I am not lying. Tell him his ‘treasure’ is as safe with me as I expect mine to be with him. I wish you fair winds and a safe journey to Istanbul, Captain.”
    Willow couldn’t stand the waiting. There was a great deal of activity taking place on deck, and she felt an overwhelming need to see what was going on. She knew there would be casualties and wanted to help, despite the fact that she owed Dariq and his pirates naught but her contempt.
    Throwing caution to the wind, Willow pulled on a knit cap, stuffed her hair beneath it and stepped outside, hovering near the door as her gaze swept the deck. She saw men carrying bundles and bales from one ship to another, then disappearing down into the hold of the
Revenge
. Then she saw the wounded; some were lying flat, while others were sitting, blood oozing from various parts of their bodies. Mustafa moved among them, inspecting wounds and treating them with salves and bandages he took from a small casket he carried under his arm.
    Willow’s soft heart wept when she saw Mustafa bandaging the stump of a man’s severed hand. When she saw Dariq striding across the deck toward the wounded, she stepped from her concealment.
    Dariq didn’t see her until she made her presence known to him. She touched his arm. “How can I help?”
    Dariq whirled, fury emanating from him. “I thought I told you to remain inside the cabin.”
    Willow’s chin jutted out stubbornly. “I am not one of your concubines. Though there are rules Englishwomen must follow, living behind walls or closed doors is not one of them. Now, tell me what I can do to help.”
    “Mustafa and I can handle whatever needs to be done here. This is not woman’s work. Your constitution is too delicate.”
    Willow snorted. “Obviously, you do not know me very well.”
    “What does she want?” Mustafa asked in rapid Turkish.
    “She wants to help.”
    Mustafa’s keen gaze passed over Dariq. “You are wounded, my lord.” He returned his gaze to Willow, and using simple Turkish words, he said, “The prince is in need of attention. Take him to his cabin and see to his wounds.”
    He thrust a jar of salve and some clean cloths into her hand. “You will find needle and thread in the cabin for the more serious of his wounds.”
    Dariq glared at Mustafa. “That is not necessary. I have suffered worse wounds than these.”
    “Wounds fester quickly in the heat,” Willow pointed out. Grasping his arm, she urged him toward the cabin.
    “Are you giving me orders, my lady?”
    “I’m but following Mustafa’s orders. Are you coming with me or not?”
    Dariq was on the verge of refusing when Mustafa said, “I do not need you, my lord. I am quite capable of seeing to the wounded myself. The lady is right. Wounds, even small ones, can fester.”
    “Very well,” Dariq muttered reluctantly. “As soon as my wounds are seen to, I shall return to help you.”
    He stomped off toward the cabin. Willow hurried to keep up with him. Once they were inside, she pushed him downinto a chair. Then she poured fresh water from a pitcher into a bowl and returned to Dariq. She inspected the cut above his eye first,