Roxelana & Suleyman

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Haseki ran across the courtyard and up the stairs to her suite. The bitter cold of the outside air cut into her flesh, but she did not feel its sting. She was in her rooms no more than a few seconds to grab at loose-fitting pants and a vest, which barely covered her growing belly and breasts. She pulled them on—scurrying out along the balcony and down the stair which would take her to Suleyman’s courtyard and suites. When she approached the Sultan’s quarters she did not stop at the door, but instead pushed past the black eunuchs guarding it. She ran into the room, her vest flying open to expose the n***d curve of pregnancy, and threw herself onto the divan at Suleyman’s side.

The Sultan was unclothed except for a swathe of bandages across his upper thigh. Ibrahim, kneeling beside him, held his left hand to the torn leg. Haseki noted the horror on his face as he quickly withdrew his hand and covered his face so that he would not gaze upon her.

Suleyman burst into laughter—a deep and haughty laugh that turned his face red and ended with wheezing and spluttering. Ibrahim offered him a glass of red wine, all the time covering his eyes from the sight of Haseki. Suleyman gulped the wine, but continued to splutter and chuckle.

“My lord, Hyacinth told me of your battle. How do you fare?”

Suleyman cuddled Haseki into his side. “My dear, it was hardly a battle. A small boar, little more than a piglet, plunged from the bushes to do what even the greatest kings and princes of Europe have been unable to.”

Haseki inspected the bandages and then looked down upon Ibrahim who now lay prone on the floor, both arms covering his head, his face pressed into the underside of the divan. She realized her own nakedness and blushed as Suleyman reached over and pulled the buttons of her vest into their loops. He kissed her tenderly on the lips.

“Thank you for coming to my welfare, my tulip,” he whispered. “Your delicate touch is far superior to the roughness of my dear friend, Ibrahim, here.”

Haseki thought she heard Ibrahim snicker, down amongst the divan’s tassels.

Suleyman picked up a silk handkerchief from by his side and motioned for Haseki to hold it in front of her lower face.

“You may rise, Ibrahim. My love is covered from your lecherous gaze,” he said with a crinkle about the eyes that could not hide his feelings from Haseki.

Ibrahim pushed himself up off the floor and onto his knees by the divan. Though he kept his eyes averted, Haseki knew he studied her.

I can see why Khadija, and indeed Suleyman, adore you so. You have indeed been chipped from the marbles of ancient Greece. Even the great Italian sculptor Michelangelo could not have freed such a specimen as you from the pristine stones of antiquity.

Suleyman ruffled Ibrahim’s hair. A pang of jealousy bit at Haseki’s heart.

“My lord, I wish to be alone with you.”

Suleyman beheld the loveliness of her lashes.

Ibrahim bowed and left the room.

The Shadow of God on Earth smiled despite the obvious pain the wild boar had inflicted. Haseki discarded the handkerchief and inspected the wound for herself. She stroked the fine hair that covered Suleyman’s thighs and pulled the bandages across the puckering wound. Her fingers absently brushed the flaccid length of flesh that lay beside the blood-spotted cloth. She smiled as it flushed with blood and grew hard.