Skye O'Malley (29 page)

“You do not mind if I remain for a bit?”

“No, my Skye. Fill your lovely head with all the things you need to know.” He kissed her tenderly. “Allah, how fair you are! The white silk caftan and gold embroidery sets off Robbie’s emeralds very well. The blue flame in their centers does indeed match your beautiful eyes.” He kissed her again. “Don’t wake me when you come to bed, my love. I’ll sleep through the night.”

She kissed him back. “Sleep well, my darling. I love you!”

He smiled happily at her, touching her cheek in a tender and familiar gesture. Bidding Robert Small a good night, Khalid left the room.

“You’ve been good for him,” remarked the Englishman.

“He is good for me,” she answered.

“You’ve had no return of memory, lass? Not even a glimpse?”

“No, Robbie, nothing. Sometimes a sound or sight has a familiar ring to it, but it is never anything I can put my finger on. And now I don’t really care. I am happy as Khalid el Bey’s wife. I love him dearly.”

They sat talking for some time. At the back of the garden the little wicket gate creaked open to admit a dark, hooded figure. Slowly, carefully, Yasmin made her way across the garden, keeping well into the shadows. She saw two figures talking in the salon. One was garbed in white. It had to be Khalid. He had worn white that afternoon, while making his rounds. She heard a hearty laugh, and recognized it as Captain Small’s. The captain and Khalid were talking and would probably visit for some time.

Yasmin wondered if she should wait until Khalid had gone to bed. The idea of disposing of Skye under Khalid’s very nose was tempting. Yasmin wanted her master back, but she hadn’t forgiven him for marrying Skye.

She crept on past the salon, keeping far enough away to avoid the lights. She heard the low murmur of voices, but could make out nothing of the conversation. No matter, she thought. Slipping into the villa through a long French window, she made her way up the darkened back staircase of the house to the main bedchamber. The
door was open and she stood still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dark room.

Yasmin knew the room well. Looking toward the bed, she observed the sheet-swathed figure. She hesitated no longer than a second. Moving purposely across the room, she plunged her dagger again and again into the sleeping figure who groaned once, then lay still. Unbridled joy surged through Yasmin. Dead! Dead! Her rival! Her enemy! Skye was dead! She wanted to scream her happiness.

Then behind her someone did scream, a long piercing wail of terror. Whirling, Yasmin faced a slave woman who was clutching at a crystal carafe of water. The carafe slid from the woman’s hands. Yasmin stood stock still watching the crystal shatter on the tiles, the water mixing with it, spewing a rainbow of shattered droplets across the floor and rugs. Yasmin could not move. She stood frozen as the woman’s screams echoed throughout the house.

At the sound of running feet, Yasmin shook herself back into action. Moving to the door, she shoved the slave woman aside and tried to flee, but the servant clung to her arm screaming, “Murder! Murder! She has killed the master!”

Allah! What was the woman screaming about? Yasmin wondered. Khalid was downstairs. She had killed Skye. Yasmin yanked her arm free and turned to run. Bumping into another body, she tried to push by, but her shocked eyes locked onto Skye’s.

“Allah! No!” Yasmin gasped.

“She killed the master!” wailed the slave woman again.

“Yasmin! What has happened?” asked Skye fearfully.

Yasmin turned from Skye and stumbled back across the room to the figure on the bed. With icy fingers she pulled the sheet back. Seeing the cold, stiffening form of Khalid el Bey, Yasmin moaned with a pain so great she couldn’t truly feel it all. Her fingers tightened again about the dagger. She whispered her anguish. “Forgive me, Skye!” and swiftly drove the dagger between her own breasts. Yasmin crumpled to the floor.

Skye knelt on one side of the woman, while Captain Small knelt on the other. Yasmin’s ragged breathing was the only sound.

“Why?” whispered Skye. “
Why
, Yasmin? You loved him!”

The dying woman’s eyes were glazing already. “Forgive me.”

Skye swallowed the bitter hatred rising in her throat. This woman had just stolen her very life from her, and now begged forgiveness. She wanted to shout, no!, but then she heard Robert Small say quietly, “Come lass.” Knowing what he wanted, she said softly, “I forgive you, Yasmin.”

Yasmin sighed. Gathering the last of her strength, she said, “I thought it was you. Jamil p-planned it, but it was all for him, wasn’t it? Jamil wants you. Beware of him.” Then, as if a candle had been blown out, the life fled from her eyes and Yasmin was gone.

Skye stood. The room was bright now, lit by the lamps held by all the household slaves who stood clustered in tight little groups, some of the women beginning to sob. Skye stared at them, fighting to retain her control. She must not go to pieces now, as she had obviously done when she lost her memory. She owed Khalid that much, for he must be revenged. The Turkish captain-governor could not kill her husband and escape judgment. Who had heard Yasmin’s confession? Only she and Captain Small had been close enough to hear the painfully whispered words. The next nearest people had been Jean and Marie. The slaves had all been afraid of coming too close.

Stepping over Yasmin’s body, Skye moved to the bed and sat next to the still form of her husband. There was virtually no blood to be seen. By some twist of fate the dagger had pierced only vital organs, but no arteries. “I would be with my lord,” she said quietly, and she heard the shuffle of feet and then the closing door.

Alone, she wept her terrible grief in silent pain, rocking back and forth, holding herself, as if that would prevent her from shattering. Her head ached and waves of pain and nausea began to rack her.

Suddenly she heard Robert Small commanding, “Voice it, lass! Voice your pain or else it will kill both you and his babe. Is that what you want? If so, take Yasmin’s escape, for it’s quicker.”

She saw the Englishman standing by the door. He had never left her. Now, crossing the room in three strides, he grasped her by the shoulders and shook her. “Damn it, lass! Cry! Scream! Curse the heavens, but in God’s name get it out!”

She sobbed softly once, then stopped. He hit her hard several times, and suddenly her resistance broke. Opening her mouth, Skye wailed her grief with such loud and terrible cries that they echoed throughout the house. The slave women, grieving softly until then, joined in their mistress’s tragic lamentation and soon the whole house rang with grief. Shortly the sounds echoed through the entire neighborhood. People began to gather, and it was not long before everyone knew that Khalid el Bey had been murdered by his jealous slave woman, Yasmin.

Slowly Skye’s grief eased. Looking a final time on her beloved husband, she bent and kissed his cold lips. Then, supported by
Robert Small, she left the room and walked downstairs to the bey’s library. “Get Jean and Marie for me, Robbie. I must be revenged, and I will need help.”

When the four of them were gathered together in private, Skye quietly repeated Yasmin’s dying words to Jean and Marie. The Frenchman was shocked, but his wife sniffed, “I would put nothing past that evil Turk. Look how he killed my little
cousine
, Celestine. He has no real heart, that one!” She began to weep. “He claimed to be the master’s best friend, and yet he killed him without a second thought because he wished to possess Madam!” Jean comforted his wife as best he could.

“We will both be revenged, Marie,” said Skye, “but before we can be, we must lull Jamil into a sense of security. He must not even suspect that we know he is responsible for my lord’s murder. Let him feel safe—and then we will strike!”

“You cannot revenge yourself on the Sultan’s governor and remain safely in Algiers,” said Robert Small firmly. “The dey would be forced to punish you in the Sultan’s name.”

“I cannot remain here under any circumstances, Robbie. The memories I have of Khalid and our life together would break my heart. And though I am capable of running the House of Felicity, who would do business with a woman? Sell everything here in Algiers, but do it secretly. Have the money transported to our London goldsmith.”

“The house also?” asked Jean.

“The house, the seaside kiosk, sell all.”

“What of the slaves?”

“Prepare papers of manumission for them all. I shall give each of them the price he or she is worth in order that they may all get started in another life. Those who wish to come with me may do so, but no one is to be told until we are ready to leave. I hope, Jean, that you and Marie will come with me. But if you choose to return to Brittany I will understand.”

“There is nothing for us in Brittany, my lady. Our families are gone. Marie’s entire village is gone. We would rather stay with you, for we love you as we loved the bey.”

“Thank you,” said Skye. “I would have been lost without you both.”

There was a scratching at the door, and when Skye called out, “Enter,” a slave came in to announce that the captain-governor was on his way up the driveway.

“Hold him off for a few minutes,” she told Jean. He left the room immediately. “Robbie, you go too. I shall go upstairs through the secret passage here in the library. Marie, quickly!”

Skye drew two leather-bound volumes from a shelf and, reaching into that empty space, pulled at a hidden lever. The bookcase swung open to reveal an interior staircase. “Shut it behind us, Robbie,” she said, handing him the books. Then the two women were gone. They hurried up the stairs, which opened out into Skye’s old room.

“I cannot ever go back in
there
,” she told Marie, referring to the bedchamber she had shared with Khalid. She quickly stripped off her white silk caftan. “Get me the azure gauze chamber robe, Marie.” Marie fetched the gown, smiled with appreciation of Skye’s strategy.

“The captain-governor will be so blinded by lust,” she remarked as Skye dressed, “that he will believe whatever you tell him, madam.”

Skye nodded. “I must not rouse his suspicions,” she said, “and I need time. Send my women to me, Marie. The captain-governor will expect to find the grieving widow surrounded by her weeping handmaidens, and I must not disappoint him.” A look of physical pain crossed her face, and suddenly she began to weep uncontrollably, her sobs interspersed with bursts of hysterical laughter. “Oh, God, Marie! It is too macabre! How Khalid would appreciate the role I play.”

Marie looked stricken, and the tears spilled from her eyes as she fled the room to do her mistress’s bidding. Skye flung herself on the divan, weeping soundlessly now.
Khalid, oh, Khalid
, she thought desperately. Please God, please! Let me wake and find him sleeping safely next to me! But she knew in her heart that her prayers were useless. He was dead, and lost to her. She heard the door open softly, and then her women were clustering about her like bright little butterflies, sobbing and clucking with sympathy. Skye didn’t even look up. She wept harder and soon she heard Marie’s cry of protest.

“My lord Jamil! You cannot enter my lady’s chamber! Her grief is too terrible to behold!”

“I was Khalid el Bey’s best friend,” boomed the captain-governor’s deep voice.

Allah curse him! thought Skye fiercely.

“It is my duty to comfort his widow. Step aside! Khalid would have done the same for me.”

Allah strike him down this instant, for I do not think I can face him without betraying my feelings
, Skye silently shrieked. But she breathed deeply and calmed herself. Khalid
would
be avenged.

The door opened again, and she knew Jamil had entered. There was a flutter and she realized that her maidens had gone, leaving her alone with him. She sobbed piteously.

“Skye, my dear, I am so sorry.”

She sobbed louder, fighting not to wince when she felt his arms about her. One hand imperiously forced her head up, and he stared into her eyes. He was somewhat taken aback by the depth of her grief, but he spoke nonetheless.

“Don’t fear, beautiful Skye. I will take care of you as did Khalid.” Allah, the emeralds she was wearing were worth a king’s ransom!

“I am s-so alone now, Jamil.”

“I will take care of you,” he repeated, his eyes straying to her breasts. They seemed fuller than he had noticed before. Damn! He wished he could take her now, but it would hardly do to fuck the widow when her husband’s corpse lay still warm in the next room. There would be plenty of time for that later on. If he acted too soon he chanced losing the juicy plum of her wealth.

She pressed against him, weeping afresh, soaking his silken shirt, half swooning into his arms. By the teats of Fatima she was a rare beauty! He could hear the ragged sound of his own breathing as his hot eyes devoured her lush body. He didn’t want to release her, but he could hardly go on holding a half-conscious woman. Standing up, he carried her back to the sleeping couch and gently deposited her there.

Look your fill, you murdering bastard
, she thought as she watched him through slitted eyes.
Dream your lust-filled dreams for dreams are all you’ll ever have of me
.

Finally Jamil sighed reluctantly, and left the room. She lay quietly until Marie joined her, saying drily, “The household has been threatened with severe punishment unless you are properly cared for, madam.”

Skye sat up. “The presumption of the man! He says he will care for me as did my lord Khalid! When he touched me it was all I could do not to vomit! Oh, Marie! Where is the justice in this world? Why should a man as kind and good as my lord Khalid die, and one as evil as Jamil live?”

The Frenchwoman’s eyes again filled with tears. “
Hélas
, madam! Would I could answer you, but I cannot.”

Faithful Marie remained by Skye’s side all night. Neither really slept. Arrangements for the bey’s funeral were completed in the morning, for the day was Thursday and unless he was buried by the sabbath sundown there could be no funeral until Saturday. The body was first washed, then wrapped in a seamless white shroud. The shroud had been dipped in Mecca’s sacred Zamzam well when Khalid el Bey made his pilgrimage to the holy city.