Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A LGIERS! Skye had wondered when she left Algiers those many months ago whether she would see the city again. Nor had she ever really thought to see Osman ever again, yet here he was hugging her, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

"Allah be praised, my daughter, you are safe!" He stepped back and viewed her critically. "You are thinner."

She nodded. "It has not been easy. You have seen Hamal, my friend?"

Osman nodded. "As you know, he rode in ahead of the caravan three days ago so that we might be warned of your imminent arrival. The old Dey is in quite a dither over the prospect of entertaining the Sultan's daughter. He was even prepared to invite Kedar to stay at the palace, but Hamal discouraged it, saying that Kedar was only a business acquaintance of Turkhan's, and besides, he was my nephew, and would want to stay with me. Getting your husband Niall out of the palace will be hard enough, but we should never have gotten you out."

"Are my ships here, Osman?"

"Some in port, some lying just off the coast over the horizon." Osman paused, and then said quietly, "Skye, my daughter, Jamil is back in the city."

She sucked her breath in sharply. " I knew it! I somehow sensed he would be here should I return."

"It is said that his potency is restored."

"Find me an assassin, Osman!"

"Would you have his death on your conscience, my daughter?" Osman was shocked.

"Khalid must be revenged! How his murder has haunted me all these years, Osman. I want Jamil dead! He deserves to die!"

"Perhaps," Osman agreed, "but I shall not let you make this grave error, Skye, my daughter. It was Khalid's fate to die else you would not have returned to your own land, to your own destiny. I warned Khalid the morning he told me that he was going to wed with you, but he would not listen. When he made that decision his fate was sealed; but remember, Skye, it was his right to decide his own fate. His choices were clear, and so are yours. In Allah's good time Jamil will be punished, but it is not up to you to wield the sword of justice over his head." Osman put a comforting arm about her. "How strong your passions are, Skye. You are so consumed with your thoughts of revenge it does not even occur to you that you might be in danger yourself."

"It is only logic, Osman. I am in no danger, and I know it. The memory of Skye Muna el Khalid is long gone from Algiers, and of the few who know Muna, the slave of the lord Kedar, who would connect the two? I am simply an anonymous woman, as are all respectable women in this city. If Jamil came into this house tonight, he would still not know I was here, for he would certainly not be allowed the run of your women's quarters.

"I am more concerned as to when I may see Robbie," she said.

"Not until you escape, Skye," Osman cautioned. "It is too dangerous for him to appear in my house, and I cannot take the chance that he be seen in your presence."

"Who would speak, Osman? I managed to avoid bringing anyone here from your nephew's house by pretending that I was deeply desirous of serving him personally, and could take care of myself. As a reward for my devotion, he promised to buy me half a dozen maidens to serve me here in Algiers. Talitha was eminently relieved to be left behind, and much to Kedar's annoyance, that chatterbox, Zada, found herself with child and had to be left behind."

"The little Berber Kedar bought to serve you is with child? Who is the father?"

"Kedar!" Skye laughed. "Has he ever been averse to dipping his spoon into a handy honey pot?"

Osman sighed deeply. "Kedar has never learned to be select in his lusts," he remarked.

"Robbie," Skye reminded Osman.

"Yes, my daughter, yes! Do not be impatient. Hamal and I have spoken, and we have already formulated part of the plan for your escape. Tomorrow the fast of Ramadan begins. For the next thirty days no true believer will eat or drink between dawn and sunset. Immediately after the sun has set, the feasting begins, and by the second hour after midnight all are asleep, filled with food and drink, to sleep until the noon hour of the following day. Business is conducted in those few hours until sunset. Hamal and I think the best time for you to make your escape would be in the early hours just before the dawn. It will be easy to slip some potent sleeping drug into Kedar's cup in order to allow you to slip away."

"And Niall, Osman? What of my husband?"

"Hamal and I believe he should not escape at the same time as you do. The coincidence would be far too great, and my family is far too involved now with Princess Turkhan to become the objects of her vengeance. You will be safe at sea upon your ship, where Kedar will not even consider seeking you."

"Get Niall out first, Osman," Skye said. "I wouldn't be able to rest easy if I had to leave him behind. He didn't look well to me in Fez, and the few times I managed to catch a glimpse of him on the caravan trail he looked ill. Frankly," and here Skye's brow furrowed with concern, "I am fearful for him, Osman. His ordeal, it seems, has been far worse than any I have suffered here in Algiers or Fez."

"If you wish it, my daughter," Osman promised. "Give me your husband's birthdate now so I may plot his natal chart, as I have yours." Guilelessly Skye did so, unaware that Osman was fearful for her. He had sought her own charts and updated them. He saw within Skye's current stars great pain and personal tragedy; a tragedy that might well scar her emotionally for the rest of her days. Yet in the midst of the darkness was one great light, a dominant Leo, who might save her from herself. Knowing that Lord Burke had been born under the sign of the Scorpion Osman now knew that he was not that man. With a sad shake of his head and a deep sigh, Osman set about to again plot Niall Burke's stars, knowing even as he did so what the end result had to be.

The fast of Ramadan began, and was strictly kept throughout the city of Algiers by rich and poor alike. The town was fairly quiet during the day, but once the sun had set the scent of delicious foods could be smelled all over the city, and it was said that the starving grew fat on the smells alone.

In the depths of Algiers a tailor sewed upon a costume that his color-blind and tired old eyes could only half make out. Still, his stitches and seams were neat with years of practice, and when he had finished he was paid a generous although not munificent sum. Too many dinars would have caused questions to be asked. The costume, that of a Janissary captain, was smuggled into the Dey's palace and hidden carefully by Hamal. Niall's escape was set for the ninth night of Ramadan.

Returning from the Dey's magnificent and rich feast, Turkhan demanded the immediate attendance of both of her favorites. Although they had traveled with her to Algiers and the Dey knew of their presence in his palace, Turkhan had wisely chosen not to flaunt her harem boys before her father's representative. Now they appeared nude before her, as she preferred, but before she might direct their play into sexual channels Hamal was pressing a cooling goblet of lemonade upon her and Niall was stretching her out upon the floor pillows to massage her lush body with strong hands.

Turkhan drank deeply, and then purred, "I shall fall asleep, Ashur."

"If you do," he murmured low, with hot breath against her ear, "I will not let you sleep long, my Princess. Only long enough to gain the strength you'll need for a long night of my loving. Send Hamal away, my beautiful one."

Turkhan shivered with anticipatory delight. She pretended to consider Niall's request while she drained the cup. Then she said, "My little lamb, seek your bed now."

Hamal knelt down, tenderly kissed Turkhan's mouth, rose up, and left them. Niall returned to his ministrations of Turkhan's voluptuous form, and was soon rewarded by her even breathing. Still he kept on, and then she began to snore lightly. "My Princess," he whispered, and then his voice grew normal. "My Princess? Are you awake?" Turkhan slept on, and satisfied that his massage and the opiate in the lemonade had done their work, Niall rose and left the room.

He encountered no one along the short route to his own quarters. Hamal was awaiting him with the Janissary captain's costume. Niall dressed quickly, and as he slipped the clothing on he felt sure and strong for the first time in months. As Hamal adjusted the sash about his waist and fixed the hat upon his head, Niall nervously popped jellies into his mouth. It was going to work! He knew it was going to work. His spirits soared! In a few minutes he would be outside the Dey's palace in the city of Algiers, and Robbie would be awaiting him.

"Now remember, Ashur," Hamal cautioned, "if you are stopped you must reply in Turkish. You could not have reached a captain's rank unless you spoke Turkish.

"Go back to Turkhan's chambers, and leaving through her bedchamber, cut across the Dey's garden to the western wall. You will find a door hidden beneath the vines halfway down the wall. It is open, and the hinges have been oiled so it should swing silently. Keep to the shadows. You should have very little trouble, for the garden is not brightly lit, but be cautious. Someone could be wandering. The old Dey, it is said, does not sleep well; or perhaps one of his women. One of your own people will be waiting for you on the other side of the wall."

"Hamal!" Niall grasped the younger man's hands in his. "How can I thank you?"

"Ashur, my friend, if I did not think that you were wrong for my Turkhan, I should not do this. She is in love with you, and your defection will cause her pain. I will, of course, be here to ease that pain. I understand your feelings for your beautiful wife, and I have ever been a fool for happy endings. We will both be happy—you with your lady, I with mine. Go now while all sleep!" He pressed a small flat gilt box in Niall's hand. "A small token. Those damned jellies that you like so well made just as old Rabi prepares them for you."

Niall grinned almost boyishly. "Farewell, my young friend Hamal, and thank you." Then he was quickly gone from the room.

Hamal heaved a soft sigh of relief. In just a few short minutes Ashur would be gone from their lives, and Turkhan would be his alone! She would be angry and heartbroken by turns. She would demand that the Dey find her favorite, but within the hour Niall would be safely at sea. Turkhan would have no choice but to turn to him for her solace. Faithful Hamal. A small smile played about his lips. Faithful Hamal, who would soon be a free man again, a man who could legally claim half of his brother's wealth, as well as all of his princess wife's. He chuckled. Kedar would be quite surprised to discover his adversary was as ruthless as he himself was. And why not? Had he not learned at his brother's knee before Kedar had so cruelly sold him into slavery? Hamal slipped silently back into his own small chamber next to Ashur's, and, lying down, fell into a guiltless and satisfied sleep.

In the meantime Niall had quietly re-entered Turkhan's chamber. For a moment he stood over her, staring down at this bold woman who had demanded everything from him, expecting no less. Then without a backward glance he walked into the warm, black night of the Dey's garden. Briefly he stood listening in the shadows, and then hearing no sound other than the night insects, he began his stealthy walk across the garden to the west wall. He moved quickly and silently, pausing every few minutes to listen, to look about him. High above him on the walls of the palace the Dey's own men paced their watch, but not quite as alertly as usual, being full with food and fermented fruit juices. Only a direct attack by the infidel would have roused them now.

Ahead of him was a small fountain that he was forced to circumvent. He paused for a moment, confused as to his direction, and for a brief second panic set in. But breathing deeply to calm his fears, Niall pressed onward, finally gaining the western wall. Carefully he felt his way along it, the thorny vines catching at his clothing. He smothered a curse as his hands grew badly scratched and pricked, but at last he felt the smooth surface of the little door beneath his bleeding palms. Sliding his hands downward, he found the latch. Slowly, cautiously he pressed down on the handle, and the door swung silently open. For a surprised moment he stared out into the street, then almost leapt through onto the cobbles, banging his forehead in the process. This elicited another curse. Then, remembering his danger, Niall Burke pulled the little garden door closed behind him, and hurried off down the street.

At the bottom of the street a shadow joined him from a doorway, and he almost wept to hear a soft Devon voice say, "Let's go, m'lord! Wouldn't do to have the Turks catch us now, would it?"

"Robbie? Is it you?" His heart was hammering joyously, and even the damned English tongue sounded good to his ears after so many months of first French, and then Arabic and Turkish.

"Aye, m'lord, 'Tis me, and glad it is I am to see you. We've not far to go, but 'twould be best if we were silent now lest we cause suspicion by our speech. Follow me!"

The ease of his escape after so many months of torturous captivity amazed Niall. Robbie was dressed like a corsair Reis, and the few people they passed thought nothing of the two men, one a Reis, the other a Janissary captain walking together toward the harbor. They reached it fairly quickly, for the Dey's palace was quite nearby. Niall followed Robbie through the maze of docks until they arrived at a vessel he recognized as Skye's flagship. With suddenly shaking legs he somehow managed to mount the gangway, expecting at any minute to hear a commanding voice from behind shout at him to stop. There was no voice, and he gained the deck to again follow Robbie into the main cabin.

"Sit down, m'lord." Robbie moved quickly to the sideboard and poured Niall a generous dollop of smoky Irish whiskey. He didn't like the look of the man's color at all. Handing it to the seated man, he said, "Drink it, m'lord. I've got to go topside and get us underway."

"Where is Skye, Robbie?"

"The plan was that we get you out first. Lady Burke will be coming along in a few more nights."

"No! I'll not leave without her, Robbie!" Niall had risen in protest.

"M'lord," Robbie said patiently, although his blood was beginning to boil angrily, "I have not the time to explain it to you, for we are yet in danger. But I promise I will come back once we have cleared the harbor. If you are considering acting foolishly, remember all the lives involved in getting you out, especially Lady Burke's." He then turned on his heel and slammed out of the cabin.

Defeated, Niall sat heavily and pondered the amber liquid in his glass. He didn't understand, and he was frightened for Skye. Was she even alive? He had caught glimpses of her as they had traveled from Fez to Algiers, although it hadn't been easy. She had been forced to ride in a heavily guarded, silk-draped wagon. At least he and Hamal had been given horses to ride, although they were expected to pace their mounts on either side of Turkhan's palanquin. He had not even managed a small sight of her in the last week before they reached Algiers, and then he had been housed in the Dey's palace while she had gone with Kedar to Osman's home. Surely if she were dead, or injured, or ill, they would have told him, wouldn't they? Reaching into his robes, he drew out the gilt box Hamal had given him. He opened it and devoured three jellies. For some reason they always seemed to help him when he grew edgy.

He frowned irritably. He was a man. He had never been given to fears and qualms before he had come to Algiers. Granted, his had been a rather harrowing experience, but surely the shock would wear off now that he was safe among his own people again. When he could hold Skye in his arms once again it would be all right. He needed his wife. He needed Skye! Absently he reached for another jelly, and then he rose and refilled his goblet, savoring the whiskey as outside on the deck he heard the noise and the activity of the sailors beginning to get the ship underway. He heard the gentle creak of the vessel as it eased away from its dock and began to make its way out of the harbor. Looking out of the great window at the stern of the cabin, he saw the dark outline of the city, of the palace itself where Turkhan lay soundly asleep, unsuspecting that he had at last escaped her web. Dawn would not break for several hours yet, and by then they would be safely at sea. He didn't know how long he sat silently watching as the city grew more and more distant, but suddenly he felt the full swell of the sea as the ship passed out of the sheltered harbor.

The door to the cabin opened and Robert Small entered the room again. "There now, m'lord. We're safely away."

"Skye? Why isn't she aboard?" Niall demanded anxiously.

Robbie poured himself a whiskey and seated himself next to Lord Burke. "It was thought if you both escaped at the same time a link between you might be established which would in time lead back to Osman and his family. "'Twould be a poor way to repay Osman, for 'twas he who told us you were yet alive, and arranged for Lady Burke to get to Fez to verify your existence."

"When will she come, Robbie? When?" Niall stuffed another jelly into his mouth, which, despite the whiskey, seemed dry and scratchy.

"A few days at the most, m'lord. We'll just sit quietly off the coast waiting for her. Bran Kelly and his crew will be there to take her out."

Niall nodded. "He's a good man, Bran. Did he ever marry Skye's little Daisy?"

"Last year, m'lord, and within nine months of the wedding she gave him a red-faced and squalling son. They're waiting in Devon for you both."

"No England," Niall said. "I want to see Ireland again! I want to go home."

"The children, most of them, are at Wren Court with Cecily."

"My bairns?" Niall was surprised. "Why?"

"Mistress Skye felt them safer with Cecily in Devon."

"Safer than with my father at Burke Castle?" Again Niall was surprised by Skye's seemingly strange actions.

Robbie hesitated a moment, and then he began to speak. He was going to have to tell Lord Burke everything, for the man was full of questions, having been out of touch almost three years.

When his friend had finished, Niall nodded. Now he understood. Skye had done well despite the odds, but then she had always been competent in a man's world. The fact that she had survived without him he found unreasonably irritating, even though he knew that she had done it before. She was an unusual woman, but he loved her.

"Then we wait," he said to Robbie, and the little man heaved a great sigh of relief. Niall laughed. "What, Robbie? Did you think I was going to order an immediate attack upon the city of Algiers in order to rescue my wife?" He was beginning to feel better, almost elated with the sure knowledge that he would soon see her.

"You've been known in the past to act rashly, m'lord," was the honest reply.

"True, Robbie. 'Tis a fault Skye's often accused me of, but I think my time in captivity has taught me patience." He grinned mischievously. "Although I will not guarantee it, for once I am back in my own land I may very easily revert to my old ways."

Robbie chuckled. "I'll not question yer behavior in Ireland, m'lord, only here while we have yet to regain Mistress Skye. Ye'll find the cabin comfortable, and if you need anything you've but to ask. As you've said, we wait."

In the early afternoon Skye met Alima in the baths, who whispered once they were out of earshot of the bath attendants, "Your husband escaped this morning, and is safely at sea, dearest lady."

"Thank God!" Skye breathed, and Alima squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Osman says that the princess is hysterical and furious by turns. The Dey is embarrassed that a prized slave could walk with ease from his well-guarded palace, and no one claims to have seen him go. He has not been seen in the town, and it is a great mystery. The city guards have, of course, been doubled. It will be difficult for the next few days for you to leave. My husband advises patience."

Skye laughed ruefully. "From the moment I was introduced to Kedar I have been patient, but the next days will be the worst, Alima. Still, knowing that my Niall is safe lifts the burden from my heart!"

Again Alima squeezed Skye's hand and smiled warmly at her. "Let us walk in the gardens after we have bathed," she suggested, "and perhaps you will tell me again of life in your Queen's fabulous court."

"Of course!" Skye agreed generously. She knew how very much Alima enjoyed hearing of Elizabeth Tudor's court, and French-born as she was, of the beautiful clothing worn by the men and women alike. Skye had many times explained in detail the quantity of beautiful gowns in her own possession, and as the two women wandered hand in hand in the garden she wondered if her clothes would now be all out of style. It was a thought she shared with Alima, who clapped her hands excitedly and exclaimed, "Oh, I hope so, lady Skye! Then you can have all new gowns made! How wonderful!"

Skye laughed, and it was the merry sound of her laughter that attracted the notice of the blond woman who had been pacing restlessly in Osman's library. The woman peered through the latticework that covered the windows down into the garden. She stared hard, and her breath quickened with excitement. "Who are those women in your garden, lord Osman?" she demanded sharply.

Osman arose from the rather disquieting chart he had been silently reading, and peered down. "It is my wife, and my nephew's favorite, Muna, who is her dearest friend. Why do you ask, lady Nilak?"

"The dark-haired one reminds me of someone I once knew." She turned from the window with reluctance, and then asked, "Well, lord Osman? You are reputed to be the most famous astrologer in all of Algiers, in fact one of the best in the known world. What does my chart tell you?"

"It tells me you have done much evil, lady Nilak. It tells me that you are not one bit repentant for your wicked ways. You are as much the director of your own fate as are the stars."

She laughed harshly. "I am not interested in the past, lord Osman. Tell me of the present! Will the lord Jamil marry me? Tell me of the future! Will the Sultan make him the new Dey? Will we rule Algiers together? These are the things that interest me, nothing more! Jamil has recommended you highly. Tell me what you see?"

"I see death in your chart," he said flatly.

Horrified, the woman stepped back, her hand going to her throat. "You lie!" she hissed at him. "You are nothing but a fraud! A faker! You know nothing! Nothing!"

"I see your death," Osman repeated, "and before dying you will cause the death of at least two people."

With a small shriek of anger and horror Nilak turned and fled the room. Osman did not bother to follow her. He was far too excited by what he had learned. Quickly he drew both Skye and Kedar's charts from their places on the shelves. Reaching up, he drew down yet another rolled parchment, this one belonging to Jamil, once the capitan commander of the Casbah fortress, now retired with the rank of full commander, or agha. Spreading the three charts upon the large library table next to the one he had just done for the lady Nilak, he studied them carefully with growing interest. There was no mistake. The four people represented were fated to meet, and their conjunction would end in death for three of them. Osman closed his eyes briefly. Most of the time he enjoyed his gift of sight, but there were times, times like this, when he saw things that gave him pain. Then he did not enjoy his special ability. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might be able to prevent a tragedy, for every soul was offered two paths by which to travel. Wearily he sat down and tried to think what he might do.

While Osman pondered on what he had seen, Nilak hurried downstairs and climbed back into her silk-draped palanquin. Sharply she ordered her slaves to quickly return her to her house. The girl in the garden had been Skye O'Malley's twin, and Jamil had been enamored of Skye when she was in Algiers. If she, Nilak, could bring the girl to Jamil's attention, and if she could buy the wench from Osman's nephew, would not Jamil be grateful to her? Would he not see that she loved him, and was looking out for his interests? She did not care if Jamil fucked the girl a dozen times a day, as long as she, Claire O'Flaherty, now known as the lady Nilak, was Jamil Agha's wife.

She smiled contentedly. She was going to make Jamil so very happy, and then too, she would be happy as wife to the Sultan's new Dey. Surely Jamil would gain the appointment to govern Algiers once the old man who now ruled for Sultan Selim II retired, which, according to rumor, would be any day now.

Claire had gone to Istanbul with Jamil, and while the physicians had worked to successfully cure his disability, she had made friends with the Sultan's favorite, Nur-Banu, a Venetian noblewoman by birth. When Claire had told her that she, too, was a Western noblewoman by birth, the two had struck up a small friendship which Claire carefully cultivated. It had been Nur-Banu who had compared Claire's blue eyes to the lilacs that grew in the Sultan's gardens. Thus Claire became Nilak, the Persian for bluish lilac flower. Even Jamil had been pleased and delighted that the Sultan's favorite had so honored the woman he considered making his wife.

Claire smiled again thinking how her luck had changed since the day that Niall Burke had driven her out of London, naked and stripped of all her wealth. For a moment her face darkened as she remembered the taunts of the onlookers, the jeers of the goodwives, the garbage that had been thrown at her, fouling her hair, clogging her nostrils. Sometimes she could clearly feel the sharp sting of his dog whip upon her shoulders and back, and when she did, she hated Lord Niall Burke with such a fierce hatred that she would not be able to sleep at night with the remembering.

When London had been left behind, Niall had slashed furiously at her helpless body with a final few strokes, and then had tossed her a long shapeless sack. "It's better than you deserve, bitch!" he had snarled at her. "Don't ever let me see your damnable face again, madam. The next time I will kill you!"

Claire laughed with the memory. The next time they had met she had come close to killing him! Killing, however, was not what she had had in mind. A quick death would have been too easy, and she had wanted Niall Burke to suffer, for having spoiled her successful venture as Claro, the most corrupt and famous madam in all of Bess Tudor's London. God's cock, how she hated Niall Burke.

The Devil, however, had smiled on his own. Claire had grimly begun walking. She slept that first night in a hedge by the side of the road, where she had been found the following morning by an elderly merchant traveling down from London. He, good soul, knew nothing of Claro and the scandal she had caused in the Tudor court.

Adney Darton was a godly and gentle man who had neither chick nor child, and he accepted Claire's story of being an orphaned noblewoman fallen upon hard times. Generously he took her home with him. Claire kept his house and attempted to cook his meals, seeking to insinuate herself into his life. He was therefore devastated when she announced that she would have to leave his home. What would people think of an unmarried maiden of poor, but good background, living in the house of an unmarried man. She could stay no longer, she said.

Adney Darton was old enough to be Claire's grandfather, but he proposed marriage, as she had expected he would.

Claire demurred.

Adney Darton fell to his knees and begged Claire to accept his suit.

"Yes," she whispered finally, inwardly unable to believe her good luck. The old man couldn't be long for this world, and within a short time she would be a rich widow!

The banns were quickly posted, and within the month Claire became Mistress Darton. It was then that she learned her husband had one living relative. Isham Darton arrived too late to prevent the wedding, but in time for the funeral of Adney Darton, who had perished in the act of consummating his marriage. Isham Darton was furious, for his cousin had thoughtfully rewritten his will prior to his marriage, and the marriage was quite legal. Claire Darton was now a wealthy woman, and Isham Darton had lost his inheritance.

Isham Darton, considerably younger than Adney, had coveted the elder's wealth. It was clear that he lusted after Claire, and Claire succumbed to his blandishments. Isham Darton was a vigorous lover, almost as venal and lustful as Claire, who set about to lure the man into marriage.

Isham Darton suggested that Claire come with him to Algiers, where he was going to set up a trading company. Boldly Claire told him she would only go as his wife, and to her delight he agreed without hesitation. Isham Darton had already decided that Claire would be easy to dispose of in Algiers, and as her husband he would inherit her fortune. Isham and Claire planned their marriage for the day after her year's mourning was over.

In the meantime Claire proposed that she travel to her former home in Ireland to visit a final time the graves of her dear, departed father and brother. He need not accompany her. Claire had sailed to Ireland upon one of her late husband's two ships to work her evil; paying its captain a rather large sum to take the wounded Niall Burke aboard, and sell him into the galleys.

Returning to England, she was married to Isham Darton, and together they set sail for Algiers. As they crossed the Bay of Biscay, Isham Darton was swept overboard in a severe storm. The widow kept to her destination. Claire settled herself in Algiers. As a single, seemingly respectable, and very wealthy European widow living in a Turkish city, she had quickly come to the attention of Capitan Jamil of the Casbah fortress.

Claire knew that she must remain a proper matron, or she would not be able to associate with the right people. She also intended to add to her wealth by continuing trading. If the damnable Skye O'Malley could do it, then so could she! She soon had a thriving business going, and there wasn't a man in Algiers who drove a harder or tighter bargain than Claire Darton. She remained very circumspect in her behavior, and that in itself was most taunting and provocative to the men of Algiers. They very much wanted to meet with the beautiful blond woman with the lilac-blue eyes. How, though, was the big question.

Capitan Jamil succeeded where all others had failed. Soon he would retire, and the rich wife he had picked for himself those long years ago, the magnificent Skye Muna el Khalid, had eluded him. He had arranged her husband's murder, but somehow she had discovered he was responsible, and fled him, transferring all of Khalid's riches out of Algiers. Then, through her maidservant Skye had sent him a plate of sweetmeats containing a potent drug which had rendered him unable to function as a man. For five long years he had been totally impotent, and then his manhood had begun to revive, but only slightly. Another four years had passed, and then he had heard of a physician in Istanbul who could cure him.

He had not the gold he would need to pay the physician, but he knew that the rich infidel widow did. Jamil waited a few weeks until the days grew shorter with the approach of the winter season and the evenings came early. He arranged for the lady Claire's palanquin to be set upon as it passed through a particularly dark, deserted area. Then he and a small troupe of mounted Janissaries arrived to beat off the attackers. When the tumult had died down, he presented his compliments to the lady and personally escorted her to her house, begging permission to call again. Claire had said that she would think on it, but by the time his gift, a carved lavender jade bracelet wrapped in a handkerchief of cloth of gold, arrived the next afternoon Claire had ascertained who her rescuer had been, and whether he could be of use to her. He could, and consequently Capitan Jamil was invited to take coffee with her.

The relationship had quickly blossomed. Jamil was genuinely intrigued by Claire's blond beauty as well as her vast wealth; and Claire for the first time since her brother, Dom, had died, loved another human being. Strangely, he had been able to consummate their relationship the first time he attempted to do so, but he had been quite honest with regard to his situation. Eventually he had told her of the doctor in Istanbul who could cure him. Her revenge against the Burkes had been successful, and she was in love. She begged her lover to let her foot the expenses to the capital for them both so he might be cured. Jamil refused. Claire persisted. He refused again, but now she would not be denied, and finally he gracefully gave in to her pleas.

It was while they were in Istanbul that she learned of his previous involvement with Skye O'Malley. Jamil did not know then that Skye Muna el Khalid was Skye O'Malley; but Claire knew. How strange, she thought, that she was so passionately in love with the very man whom her bitterest enemy had scorned, and almost destroyed by turning him into a partial eunuch. She would settle with Skye O'Malley once she and Jamil were married. She would destroy Skye's own shipping interests by using the corsair Reises who would be under her husband's command once the Sultan appointed Jamil the new Dey. For now, however, she was delighted that the famous physician who treated Jamil had been successful. Her lover had regained his full potency, and was a veritable bull in their bedchamber.

Before they departed Istanbul for their return to Algiers, he proposed marriage, as she had known he would. She blushingly accepted, despite the fact that he warned her he would want, nay, he would keep a harem. Claire, now the lady Nilak, cared nothing for the others he might bed as long as he loved her, and she was his wife with the power a dey's wife had. Jamil smiled at her honest admission thinking that they were really quite suited, and agreed that their marriage would take place in the month of Shawwal following the fast month of Ramadan.

Ramadan was now half over, and Claire was feeling quite pleased with herself at having discovered a Skye look-alike. How happy Jamil would be, and she, Claire, would insist on paying Osman's nephew whatever he wanted for the slave girl. It would be one of her bridal gifts to her beloved Jamil.

Arriving at her home, she hurried to find Jamil. He was being vigorously massaged by two young black girls, but as she entered the room he sat up smiling at her, his arms outstretched. Claire flew into them, and was rewarded with a kiss; a kiss that flamed into quick desire for both of them. "Get out!" Claire hissed at the two slaves, and they fled. Jamil didn't even wait for the door to close behind them before he was pulling her clothing off and drawing her down onto the couch with him. Being already hard, he wasted no time on the preliminaries and, parting her thighs, thrust into her with one smooth motion.

"Ahhh, Nilak, my love," he murmured, moving quickly on her, and Claire sighed with delight.

Afterward, as they lay together, he nibbling on her shoulder, she said excitedly, "I have just come from the house of Osman the astrologer, my darling, and what do you think I saw? A slave girl walking in the garden, the favorite of his nephew. She is a twin to Skye O'Malley! The same gardenia skin, the same marvelous black hair, and although I was not close enough to tell, I will wager the same blue eyes! I want to buy her from Osman's nephew for you."

"No," he said. "You must be mistaken. There could not be two women in the entire world who look like Skye Muna el Khalid."

"But she does, I tell you!" Claire insisted. "I know her as well as you do, Jamil. After all, she was married to my brother. This slave girl could be her twin!"

Jamil Agha sat up. "You are certain?" he said sharply.

"I am certain."

"Perhaps it is she, the beauteous Skye herself," he half whispered to himself. "Dear Allah, to have her in my power!"

"It cannot be Skye, Jamil. She grieves in Ireland for her dead husband, and besides, Osman knew her, too. How could Skye become the favorite of his nephew without him knowing it? This wench looks very like her, but she's much younger."

"Let us go to Osman's house now!" Jamil said eagerly. "It is almost sunset, and he is a hospitable man. I am sure I can get a look at the girl if the family is at the evening meal, and if she is all you say she is, then we will buy her then and there." He scrambled to his feet. "Help me to dress, Nilak, and then see that the slaves ready my horse."

As she aided her lover Claire began to grow uneasy. Perhaps she had made a mistake in mentioning the favorite of Osman's nephew, and her startling resemblance to Skye O'Malley. Jamil was far too eager, and what if this little upstart of a slave were to supplant her in her beloved's affections? Never! she reassured herself. Let Jamil sate his lusts on the girl. She, Nilak, would be his legal wife in just a short while, and then if the girl grew difficult she would simply disappear. Besides, Jamil would soon grow tired of her as he did of all women but Claire. She smiled to herself, and went to order Jamil's horse and her palanquin.

It was a simple but filling meal that was served in the house of Osman that night. A whole red-eyed mullet had been poached and was presented upon a bed of greens surrounded by lemons carved to represent seashells. A well-roasted capon stuffed with dried peaches, apricots, and plums sat on its platter of blue Fezware surrounded by matching bowls of saffroned rice and steamed artichokes. One enormous bowl of couscous had been placed midtable, and the marvelous scent of the wheat grains, the lamb chunks, and the many vegetables assaulted the senses of the four diners. An individual loaf of flat bread, warm from the ovens, was placed at each setting as were small kebobs of kid, green and red peppers, and small onions hot from the grill. There was a small bowl of yogurt at each place for dipping, and a large glass dish filled with green and black olives.

When the diners had done justice to the meal, and their profuse compliments had been sent to the cook who waited anxiously in the kitchen, the table was cleared of the main meal, and the fruits, large Seville oranges, dark purple grapes, golden pears, and fat green figs, were brought out, along with delicate gazelle horn pastries and bowls of pistachio nuts. A slave was handing around the delicate porcelain cups of black coffee when Jamil Agha boldly entered the room.

Osman almost swallowed whole the grape he had just popped into his mouth, and Alima gasped audibly. Jamil did not notice. His eyes were glued upon Skye, who was wondering what bad fairy had pushed Jamil back into her life on the very night she had planned her escape from Algiers. Skye knew that her only hope was in being Muna, the slave girl of the lord Kedar, and no one else. Then her eyes moved to the woman who mincingly accompanied Jamil, and she felt her anger well. Claire O'Flaherty! The cursed Claire!

Crossing the room in large, quick strides, Jamil reached Skye and pulled her roughly up. "By the soul of the prophet," he murmured excitedly, "you are truly a twin to Skye Muna el Khalid! I must have you, and I will!" His hateful hand was cupping her chin.

Angrily Skye yanked her head away from his grasp as Kedar, recovering from his shock, leapt to his feet with a roar of pure outrage and his hand went to his dagger. "You are a dead man!" he hissed. "No one touches what is mine without my permission! You have offended me, whoever you are, and I will have satisfaction!"

Jamil, with another burning look at Skye, reluctantly turned to Osman. "Is this loud fool your nephew, Osman?"

Osman nodded, feeling strangely calm. "My nephew, Kedar ibn Omar, my lord Jamil Agha."

"For your sake I will forgive him. Tell the fool who I am."

"Kedar, this is Jamil Agha, retired commandant of the Sultan's Casbah fortress and, it is rumored, soon to be the new Dey of Algiers."

"His rank does not give him the right to touch my property without my express permission, and where Muna is concerned you know my feelings, Uncle." Kedar turned to Jamil. "My lord," he said, "this woman is my betrothed wife. You have rendered me a fierce insult by your actions. If, however, you will offer me an apology, for the sake of my uncle, who obviously knows you well, I will consider the matter closed. I would be reluctant to come between my uncle and a friend."

"I want to buy the woman," Jamil answered.

"What?!" Kedar was astounded.

"I want to buy your slave woman," Jamil repeated. "Look at her, Osman! Is she not the twin to Khalid el Bey's wife, Skye? I must have her!"

"She has dark hair and blue eyes like the lady Skye, I will grant you, Jamil Agha, but other than that I see no great resemblance."

"You must! She is a mirror image of the lady Skye. Nilak, come forward, my love! You know my betrothed wife, the lady Nilak, Osman. She knew the lady Skye in her own land. Is this woman not exactly like her, Nilak, my pet?"

"Exactly, my lord," Claire answered slowly, aware that the Kedar's slave girl was fixing her with a murderous gaze. "In fact if I did not know that Skye O'Malley was in Ireland or England at this time I would swear it was she."

"I fail to see a true resemblance," Osman said stubbornly.

"I want her!" Jamil said urgently. "Name your price, nephew of Osman! Whatever you desire I will pay, for I must have her!"

"She is not for sale," Kedar repeated icily. "She is to become my wife shortly." He stared angrily at Jamil Agha.

"Name your price, Kedar ibn Omar. Everything in this world has a price."

"She is not for sale, Jamil Agha. Can you not understand me? I am to marry this woman when the fast month is over. She is the one I have chosen to bear my heirs. She is not for sale!" Kedar's mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes were snapping angrily. Some instinct told him that this Jamil Agha was a great danger to him, and all his senses were poised and alert.

"I must have her," Jamil repeated almost hypnotically, and seemingly to himself. " I must!" He looked directly at Kedar. "If you will not sell her to me then I must take her. I am a Janissary, and by the Sultan's own law what I desire is mine. I would not cheat you, Kedar ibn Omar, so I ask you a final time to name your price. If you do not then I shall simply confiscate this slave for myself."

Kedar felt anger, an incredible raging, burning anger, overcome him in a quick sweep. The blood pounded in his ears and in his head. Then, suddenly, he saw floating in a red mist before his bulging eyes the smug, satisfied face of Jamil Agha. He could almost hear his enemy's unspoken words. You are helpless. The woman is now mine. There is nothing you can do to prevent me taking her! In his mind's eye Kedar saw the flawless nudity of Muna writhing beneath the other man, gaining pleasure from him, giving pleasure to him. His control snapped, and with an animal bellow of undiluted rage he swiftly brought his hand up, threw himself at Jamil, and drove his dagger deep into the other man's throat.

Jamil died in an instant, his eyes wide with surprise as he crumpled to the floor, his dark red blood pumping out to stain both his robes and Kedar's. Osman stared both shocked and surprised, while Alima and Skye clung to each other, horrified, all three watching as Nilak added to the tragedy by stabbing Kedar in a screaming fury at almost the same moment as Jamil hit the floor. She drove her own dagger into Kedar's chest, following him down onto the floor to rage and cry as her bloodied weapon descended again and again and yet again until finally Osman pulled her off the already dead body of his nephew and disarmed her.

"Have the servants call the guard," Osman commanded his shaking wife, and Alima fled the death chamber.

Nilak was silent now, but slowly she raised her eyes and fixed them upon Skye. "It is you, isn't it?" she said despairingly.

Skye turned away, uncertain as to whether to answer her old enemy.

"Skye O'Malley!" Claire hissed the name. "It is you! I know it! At least tell me I am not mad."

Skye whirled about. "You have always been touched with madness, Claire, and you destroy everything you come in contact with. You were responsible for the destruction of your brother, and poor Constanza Burke, my husband's former wife, and now both Jamil Agha and Kedar."

"You don't mention your beloved husband, Niall Burke," Claire taunted nastily. "Perhaps you don't know that I was responsible—"

"I know what you were responsible for, Claire! I know that you drove poor Sister Mary Penitent to attempt murder. I know that you saw that my husband was sold into the galleys, but he is free now, Claire! He is safely on board one of my ships, and I join him tonight! In that, Claire, you have failed!"

"I hate you!" Claire snarled venomously. "I have always hated you!"

At that moment the doors to the dining room opened to admit a Janissary Capitan and several of his men. Osman quickly stepped forward, and Skye with incredible instinct moved back into the shadows, slipping behind a tapestry.

"My lord Osman, what has happened here?"

"Praise Allah, Capitan Amhet! There has been a terrible tragedy here. My nephew and Jamil Agha fought over this woman, and when Kedar killed Jamil, she killed Kedar."

"That is not so!" screamed Claire. "He lies! He lies! There was another woman that my beloved lord Jamil wished to purchase, and this Kedar took offense; and drew his dagger and murdered Jamil Agha!"

Osman shook his head. "As you can see," he said quietly, "there are but four places at my table. My nephew, myself, this woman, and Jamil Agha ate here tonight. The lady Nilak was betrothed to Jamil Agha, and yet she flirted outrageously with my nephew, who is, as you well know, a connoisseur of beautiful women. He was intrigued and beguiled by her charms, by her immodest and unveiled face and blond fairness. She is the cause of all of this!" Osman's voice began to rise hysterically. "She is a wicked infidel woman who has caused the deaths of my old friend and my beloved nephew! I demand the Dey's justice! I demand it now!" Then he broke into harsh sobs that he tried hard to contain, obviously embarrassed to show such a weakness before other men.

The Janissaries looked away in order that Osman might have a moment to collect himself, then Capitan Amhet said, "We will take the woman before the Dey now, my lord Osman. Will you come with us to tell him your tale?"

"He lies!" Claire screamed once more, but she was silenced by a brutal blow to her head from the capitan.

"Silence, infidel bitch! How dare you dispute the word of the famous lord Osman. His honesty is legend." The Capitan pushed her back into the arms of two of his men. "Hold her and keep her silent," he commanded.

"It is late," said Osman, seemingly beginning to recover from his bout with grief. "The Dey is old, and I would hesitate to awaken him at so late an hour. Take the infidel woman with you, and keep her the night. After first prayers at dawn I will appear before the Dey to demand justice."

Capitan Ahmet let his dark eyes slide over Claire's full bosom. "My men could use a treat before they must return to the fast in the morning," he said meaningfully. "I will take your suggestion, my lord Osman. I will see you at the palace directly after first light." Capitan Ahmet then signaled his men with a wave of his hand, and they half-dragged, half-carried Claire from the chamber.

"Rest well, Capitan," Osman said softly, and the capitan turned in the doorway and laughed. Osman waited until he heard the main door to his home close and the tramp of the patrol move off down the silent street before he said quietly, "You may come out now, Skye, my daughter."

"They may kill her with their attentions," Skye said as she came back into the light of the room. "Then again they may not. Claire was once a famous whore in London."

"Better she die under the Janissaries' attentions this night, my daughter, for if she lives, she will not survive the hooks."

Skye shivered. She knew all about the infamous hooks that were imbedded in the city walls, which served as places of execution for those unfortunate enough to be condemned to them. Claire, having actually murdered one man, and having been accused of being responsible for the murder of another, would most certainly be sentenced to the hooks. Her death would be a most painful one, for the city executioners knew just how to toss a body onto the hooks so that the condemned victim lived in screaming agony for some time—a warning to those tempted to mayhem, an amusement to others. "God have mercy on her," Skye whispered.

"You pray for such an enemy, my daughter?"

"It is a horrible way to die, Osman, even for Claire."

He placed a fatherly arm about her. "You must rest now, my daughter. I will send a message to your ship that you will be delayed until morning."

"No, I would go now," she said.

"In the morning, my daughter," he repeated gently. "Trust me, Skye. Have I ever disappointed you?"

"No," she responded, suddenly feeling totally exhausted as the shock of what had happened began to set in.

Osman led her from the room and put her into the capable hands of his wife. Together the two women moved automatically toward the women's quarters, where the slaves, not even daring to speak, helped the lady Alima to put Skye to bed.

"I shall not sleep," Skye insisted, although her eyes were heavy.

"Drink this," Alima insisted, pushing a small cup of sweetened pomegranate juice on her friend. "There is in it a tiny drop of opium, which will take you quickly to the land of pleasant dreams, dearest friend. Think happy thoughts as you drift away, my lady Skye. You are free of Kedar! Your beloved husband awaits you, and soon you will be reunited. Soon you will be home in your own land with your children." Her pleasant voice droned into Skye's consciousness, and Skye soon found herself asleep.

When she awoke she felt just the tiniest bit groggy, but a trip with Alima to the household baths quickly made her mind sharp and quick again. "Where is Osman?" she asked as they returned to Skye's chamber.

"He has gone to the Dey's palace to testify against the lady Nilak," Alima responded.

"If she lived through the night," Skye remarked.

"She must have, else my husband would be back already. He will be here to escort you safely to your ship, my lady Skye. Do not fear."

Osman returned close to the noon hour, a grim smile of satisfaction upon his face. The two women hurried to his library, both full of curiosity. "She has been executed upon the hooks," he told them, "although she will probably live on for several hours. Her goods and wealth have been divided between the Dey's treasury and Capitan Ahmet. It is over, Skye, my daughter. A door is closed, and another is opening for you once again. Are you ready to depart?"

"I am ready," Skye said quietly.

Her good-byes to Alima were said swiftly and privately within the library, and then, escorted by Osman, Skye entered the large palanquin with him. This time she felt no sadness in departing the house that had once belonged to Khalid, for it was now so clearly Osman's house. The bearers lifted the palanquin and began to move easily down the hill with their burden. Skye quickly noticed that they were taking the most direct route to the harbor, where her own flagship waited. As they exited the harbor gate nearest to the Dey's palace Osman commanded her, "Look back and up a moment, my daughter."

Skye turned, and the sight greeting her eyes caused her to gasp with horror and pity. She swallowed hard, forcing the bile back down her throat. Above her on the wall, Claire O'Flaherty, also known in her lifetime as Claro and Nilak, writhed weakly and helplessly, one of the vicious hooks securely jabbed through her midsection, another through a shoulder.

"Never again will her evil trouble you, Skye, my daughter. She has met her just end, and you are at last free of her wickedness," Osman's voice said quietly. "She will die shortly, and her body will rot there upon the hooks, scavenged by the carrion birds and whipped by the elements until it is no more. A fitting finish for a consummate villainess. Turn away now, Skye, my daughter. It is over."

"It is a picture I will remember always, Osman," Skye said feelingly, and she was unable to stop the tears that spilled down her pale cheeks.

"You will forget," he answered her with certainty. "I did not show you such a sight to distress you, but rather to assure you of your adversary's end. She will never harm you or yours again, Skye, and I wanted you to be certain of that fact," He reached out and touched one crystalline tear with a fingertip. "What a magnificent soul is housed in that beautiful body of yours, my daughter! It touches me beyond all that you can weep for so cruel an enemy. She would not have wept for you."

"Perhaps not, Osman, but her last hours have certainly made up for the evil she created. It saddens me even now that we were so assuredly fated to be enemies."

He shrugged fatalistically. "It was Allah's will, Skye, my daughter. One should never question God."

The palanquin suddenly stopped, and was set down carefully. Osman parted the draperies and stepped out, turning to assist Skye from the vehicle. They were directly before the gangway of her ship. Without a word she walked swiftly aboard, the astrologer following behind. Within the safety of the master cabin she pulled her veil aside. Eyes shining with unshed tears, she caught his hands and raised them up to kiss them fervently.

"Thank you, my dear friend," she said in a voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for everything. Just over the horizon my dearest husband awaits me, and I should not have gotten him back had it not been for you, Osman, and your family. We are ever in your debt! My children and I will remember you in our prayers each night as long as we live, for you have returned to us the thing most precious to us, a husband and a father."

Osman hugged her paternally, half in affection, half in concern. It was better that she not see his face at this moment. "Remember, Skye, my daughter, that all that happens is Allah's will, and with regard to each of us, our chosen destiny. Will you try not to rail against your fate, whatever it may be? Will you trust in the Creator to care for you no matter what? Though sometimes the storm seems dark, and without end, the light will eventually overcome it. That much I can promise you."

She drew away and smiled up at him. It was the first relaxed and genuine smile he had seen on her face in a very long time. "I am learning, Osman. Slowly, I will grant you, but I am learning. I will try to accept, and to trust, no matter what. For now, however, I see nothing but happiness ahead for me. Niall and I will return to Ireland, and I think I shall never roam again."

Osman smiled back at her. "Be happy, Skye, my daughter. Allah only knows that no one deserves it more than you do."

"Will we meet again, Osman?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Perhaps," he answered, and then raising his hand in a gesture of farewell, Osman the astrologer turned and without another word left the ship.

Finally the gangway was pulled aboard, and the O'Malley sailors loosened the lines that bound them to the dock, tossing them back to the quai. As the ship began to move Skye closed the cabin door and slowly began to remove her clothing. Thoughtfully she gazed at each piece of the silken gauze garments, smoothing them carefully as the memories crowded in on her. Then with a sigh and a shake of her head she folded the clothes resolutely and began to draw on her own things, the split-legged skirt, the silk shirt, her hose, her boots, her belt with its Celtic buckle of bright enamel. For a long moment she felt very odd in such garments, for she had grown used to her silken draperies. With a laugh she began to brush her hair, then braided it firmly into one single plait. A quick glimpse in the cabin's pier glass told her that Skye O'Malley had returned, and with a grin she whirled away from it, opened the door, and walked out upon the deck.

"Welcome back, m'lady," Bran Kelly said.

"Thank you, Bran. How is Daisy?"

"Well, and our first bairn, a lad, also."

"Bran! Congratulations! I see I shall have to train another girl to be my tiring woman now, but I don't mind as long as you and Daisy are happy."

"I doubt Daisy will let you, m'lady, but time enough to argue with her when we get home," Bran chuckled.

"How soon until we reach Lord Burke's ship, Bran?"

"A few hours if this breeze will hold, m'lady. No more, I promise."

Skye walked to the bow of the ship and stood there quietly, her face into the wind, never once looking back at the city. Yes, Algiers had seemed a different place this time, quite unlike the city she remembered adoring so in her days as Khalid el Bey's wife. Then it had seemed a magical, colorful, wonderful place filled with love. This time she had seen its harshness and its cruelty. The memory of Claire O'Flaherty twisting in agony would live with her for a long, long time. Skye breathed deeply of the soft and warm sea air to clear her head of the memories. Looking back was not the answer. She wanted to look forward now. Just over the horizon was her husband, and she could hardly wait to reach him. Indeed, had she believed that she could swim faster than her ship could sail, she would have gone over the side and into the sea.

Niall! Niall! She cried to him with her heart.

"Skye! Skye!" Niall Burke twisted frantically upon the bed of the master cabin. "Robbie? Robbie, are you there?"

"I'm here, lad." Robbie placed a calming hand on Niall Burke's feverish forehead, and his face puckered with worry.

"Where is Skye, Robbie? Where is my wife?" Niall begged plaintively.

"She's coming, laddie," Robbie soothed the ill man. "She's on her way this very minute."

"I'm thirsty, Robbie. So thirsty." Niall moved restlessly once more.

"Here, laddie." Robert Small held a goblet of wine to Lord Burke's lips. "Drink this."

Niall gulped at the goblet eagerly, but seconds later he was vomiting the liquid back into a basin. "Where are my jellies, Robbie? The comfits help when I feel poorly."

"They're gone, m'lord. You ate the last of them several days ago. If you only knew what was in them we might make you some."

"I don't know, Robbie. I've told you I don't know! Old Rabi made them for me, and Hamal gave me a box just before I escaped; but I have no idea what was in them." Niall's voice was reproachful and irritable at the same time. Then suddenly he slipped into a light slumber.

Robbie sighed. It was clear to him that Lord Burke had been poisoned with some potion. Why else would he be in such a state? Perhaps when Skye came aboard her presence would encourage her husband to make a swift and full recovery. Robert Small got up and moved to the cabin door. "Keep an eye on his lordship," he commanded the ship's boy. "If you need me I'll be topside waiting for Lady Burke."

"Aye, sir!" came the obedient reply.

Robbie stamped out on deck, glad to be free of the stifling cabin. With relief he drew in great lungfuls of clean sea air. "Any sign of her?" he asked MacGuire as he came abreast of the old captain.

"Crow's nest spotted a sail out of Algiers harbor making for us just a minute or two ago. It's just visible now on the horizon. How's his lordship?"

"Not good. I think he's dying, Sean, and I don't know what in hell is killing him!"

"Fash, man! Niall Burke's stronger than that. I've known him since he was a brash young boy. He can't be dying!"

"He is, I'm telling you," Robbie argued worriedly. "He's constantly thirsty, yet he can't hold anything either liquid or solid on his stomach, and for two days his bowels have suffered with the bloody flux. What sleep he can manage is disturbed by nightmares of horrendous proportions, his eyes are red, his skin and mouth so dry that both his lips and his elbows are peeling. I've never seen anything like it, man!"

"Maybe we should cup him," MacGuire suggested halfheartedly.

"Cup him? Jesu, man! You'll kill him for sure! God's bones, I hope this wind holds! Maybe the sight of her will revive him."

"If he dies it'll kill her," MacGuire said ominously. "To lose him once was bad, but to lose him a second time after what she's been through…" He crossed himself nervously.

Robert Small stared grimly out to sea. The very same thought had crossed his mind, but he had anticipated a possible bad end to this whole venture, and had come prepared for it. He wasn't going to let her die, and neither was Adam de Marisco. De Marisco had been frantic when Robbie had returned to England and told him what Skye had done. The island lord had come off his lonely rock ready to mount an expedition to rescue Skye. Now, Adam de Marisco was waiting patiently in Robbie's own cabin to give her aid and comfort should she need it.

Robert Small watched with a sense of foreboding as Bran Kelly's ship drew closer and closer to his own.

"Captain Small! Lord Burke is awake and calling for you." The cabin boy looked anxiously up at him, tugging him back into the present.

"Tell Lord Burke that his wife's ship is almost upon us, and that I will stay on deck to greet her. We will both be with him as soon as she is aboard."

"Aye, sir." The boy hurried back to the master cabin.

Bran Kelly maneuvered his vessel carefully in the rolling sea until the two ships were bobbing next to one another. A plank was put between them, and Skye swiftly crossed the small space, flinging herself into Robbie's arms. With a relieved groan he hugged her, enjoying the lovely fragrance of damask rose that always surrounded her. "God, Skye lass, thank heaven we have you back safely!"

She was taller than he, but she still managed to press her face into his leather jerkin, inhaling his tobacco scent. "Robbie," she murmured almost incoherently. "Dearest Robbie!"

For a long moment they stood locked in a close and mutually loving embrace, and then Skye pulled away. "Where is Niall, Robbie? Where is my husband?"

He looked up at her. "Niall is in the master cabin, Skye lass, but he's not been well for several days now."

"Not been well?" she repeated.

"I don't know what it is, lass. He's had the bloody flux, and he vomits. I'm not a doctor," he finished helplessly.

She whirled from him, and ran directly across the deck to the owner's cabin. She burst through the door, stopping short as she saw Niall Burke struggle to rise up from the bed to meet her only to fail and fall weakly back upon the coverlet. "Niall!" She was at his side in an instant, her eyes huge in her white face, taking in his appearance and knowing that it was not good. "Niall!" she repeated. He had gotten so gaunt! She had not seen him in a month, and he had gotten so thin, and so wasted. Kneeling, she took his hand in hers.

Niall Burke opened his silvery eyes, and his glance was sad, but filled with love. With trembling hand he reached up to touch her cheek, and then he sighed. "I had forgotten how soft your skin is, Skye, my love," he said low.

"Oh, Niall," she whispered, "my dearest, dearest love. It will be all right now, I promise you. We are on our way home again. In just a few weeks' time we shall see Ireland again, and the children are waiting." Skye had no idea that she was crying, the hot tears pouring down her face unchecked. "God's bones, Niall! The children won't know either of us. You went away just after Padraic's birth, and Deirdre was still a babe then. He'll be three and a half now, and she's almost five, my darling. High time we got back to our bairns, Niall! High time we gave them more brothers and sisters!"

"I'm dying," he said.

"Nooooooo!" She sobbed the word, but even as she did so she felt her heart constrict painfully, as if a hand were squeezing it hard.

"I don't want to," he whispered plaintively, "but I am. I don't know why, but I am."

She couldn't breathe. For a moment panic threatened to envelop her, but then her chest heaved and air filled her lungs. "You are very ill, Niall, my love," she said in a firm voice. A voice that belied her pounding heart; "but it doesn't mean you are going to die. I won't let you die! The ship is well provisioned with fresh foods and water, and I shall cook for you myself. Remember you told me how ill you were those years ago when Constanza took care of you? It's just a recurrence of your old illness. You'll see," she finished brightly. "I shall make you well again."

He sighed sadly. "Skye, I am dying. When Constanza cared for me I was suffering from the effects of a nasty wound, and shock. I don't know what this is, but I cannot last much longer." He fell back on the bed again, barely conscious with the effort of trying to make her understand.

"Don't die, Niall," she pleaded piteously with him as if he had personal control over the situation. "You can't die! Not after what I have been through to help free you! You can't die!"

His silvery gaze enveloped her again. "I know what you have been through, my love, I know. You are so brave, Skye, my darling. You have the heart of a lion, my love, and the soul of an angel. I shall miss you, but I am grateful that Darragh's blade did not kill me. I rejoice that Claire's plot did not prevent us from saying our good-byes. Now I know that there is a God in Heaven, Skye, for he has heard my most fervent prayers. He has granted me a final glimpse of you, my dearest heart."

She focused on him through the grayish blur of her tears, and saw that he spoke a greater truth than she was willing to recognize. "Don't leave me, Niall," she said quietly. "I cannot bear it if you leave me now. Not now!"

"The choice is not mine to make, Skye. Now kiss me, my darling wife. One kiss before I must leave you. A final memory for me to take with me on my journey." His glance was steadfast, almost sympathetic of her plight, for he knew it would be far harder on her than it would be on him.

Skye wanted to flee this nightmare. In her brain pounded the one thought! Had it all been for this?

"Skye!" His voice was urgent. His hand pulled loose of hers.

Slowly she bent her head, her eyes closing as her lips met with his. For a brief moment she felt incredible joy at the touch of his mouth on hers, but then the pressure of his kiss slackened and, lifting her head, Skye saw that his silver eyes were suddenly dull and sightless; Niall Burke was dead. She sat frozen by his side for some time, feeling nothing; neither heat nor cold, certainly not the beat of her heart. She was numb to her very soul. Finally Skye slowly rose and, reaching up, gently drew his eyelids shut. "Farewell, my first love, my final love. You're home safe in Ireland now, Niall Burke. You're safe at long, long last!"

She turned as the door to the cabin opened, and Robert Small entered the room. "He's dead, Robbie," she said in a calm, detached voice.

"Skye…" He moved toward her to comfort her.

"Set a course for Beaumont de Jaspre, Robbie. I will not give my husband's body up to the sea. I will ask permission of Nicolas to bury Niall in the cathedral at Villerose. In a few years when the flesh has rotted from his bones we will bring his remains home to Ireland. He would want it that way. As would the old MacWilliam."

"Skye, 'Tis madness you speak. Let us bury him now."

"If you give him to the sea, Robbie, then I will follow him into the sea. Do you understand me?" Her voice was flinty hard, its tone unlike anything he had ever heard from her before.

Robert Small knew instinctively that he must not argue with her, or anger her. She was poised on the very brink of madness, and the merest, faintest touch would send her hurtling into its dark depths. "All right, lass," he said quietly. "We'll do it your way. Do you want the body removed from the cabin now, or shall we leave it?"

"The cargo hold is empty but for ballast?"

"Aye."

"Then put him there, Robbie, but not in the dark. Let there be candles about him, and a velvet cloth on his bier. I want a watch about him the entire time, and I shall pray by his side until we reach port."

"Let me have the boy bring you something to eat before you begin your vigil," Robbie suggested gently.

"Some wine," she answered. "Nothing more. I could not eat now."

"Some wine," he repeated, and backed from the cabin.

She stood where he had left her, silent and stonelike. The door opened again, and she heard a small voice say, "M'lady, the wine you asked for is here." Looking down, Skye encountered the curious glance of a flame-haired boy about nine. "The wine, m'lady." He held out a small tray upon which rested a goblet.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Michael, m'lady."

"Michael what?"

"Don't know, m'lady. Captain Small found me in an alley with me head all bloodied. I don't remember nothing except I'm called Michael."

"I have a brother named Michael, Michael. He is a priest. Would you like to be a priest?"

"No, m'lady! I wants to be like Captain Small!"

Skye looked down at the boy and, touching his hair with a gentle gesture, said, "Perhaps you will be like him one day, Michael. He's a good man to follow."

"Yes, m'lady," the boy said, and then hurried from the room.

The doorway was instantly filled by Adam de Marisco's huge bulk. "Skye." He stood looking anxiously in at her.

"Come in, Adam," she said.

"You're not surprised to see me, little girl," he stated flatly.

"Have you not always been there when I needed you, Adam?"

He stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him. "I should never have let you go from me, Skye."

"The choice was neither yours nor mine, Adam. We are both Elizabeth Tudor's loyal servants. Besides, once my friend, Osman, knew where Niall was, he would have found me wherever I was. Have I not given you enough pain, Adam, that you seek me out to suffer further?"

"I only suffer because you suffer, Skye." His arms went about her, and he held her tightly against his chest. Then without a word Adam picked her up, carried her across the cabin, and sat down with her in the stern window seat. He cradled her tenderly as he would have cradled a child, and sighing, she pressed her face for a moment against his silk-covered chest. The smell of him was familiar and reassuring. "Can you not cry, little girl?" he asked her.

She shook her head in the negative. "I seem to have no tears left in me, Adam. I have wept so often for Niall Burke that now in the hour of his death there is nothing inside of me but a vast and cold emptiness."

He understood. Of all the people she knew in the world he understood the best. "I am here, Skye," he said quietly. "I will not leave you."

"I know, Adam," was her answer, and then they settled into silent sorrow.

It didn't surprise him that she fell asleep in his protective embrace. He watched her slip from the painful reality of consciousness into a deep slumber, not moving as several seamen led by Robbie entered the cabin and quietly removed Lord Burke's body. Then the boy, Michael, returned to change the sheets and coverlet upon the bed, and when he had departed Adam de Marisco placed Skye into it, carefully removing her boots, her hose, her belt, and her double-legged skirt. Having tucked her snugly beneath the down coverlet, he slipped from the cabin knowing that she would sleep for many hours, for Robbie had put a sleeping draught into her wine. Sleep, Adam knew, was the best healer of all.

Skye slept for almost two days, her vigil forgotten, and by the time she awoke they were arriving in Beaumont de Jaspre. Her long rest had wiped the dark smudges from beneath her beautiful sea-blue eyes, but she was as calm and emotionless as when she had fallen asleep. She sat propped up by several large pillows, giving orders from her bed. On the small table by her was a plate with the remains of an egg that had been poached in marsala to tempt her appetite. Skye had eaten it, but it had had no taste. She ate to survive, nothing more.

"Will you go to Edmond de Beaumont, Robbie, and request a place in the cathedral for Niall's body? Tell him I will meet all expenses involved, and of course there will be a generous donation to the bishop for his kindness. Then go to the coffinmaker. I want the finest."

"What of the young duc, Skye lass?"

"What about him?" She looked puzzled.

"He loved you," Robbie said helplessly.

"He has, I am sure, by this time found a bride. Besides, I am not interested in taking another husband, Robbie, and I am most certainly not interested in Nicolas St. Adrian. He was a most charming and loving man, but that moment is past. One should always know when a moment is past, when it is time to walk quietly away."

"What if they want to see you?"

"Then they are most certainly welcome to visit me on board this ship, but please make it most clear, Robbie, that I will not set foot in the castle."

Robbie bowed formally. "As you wish, Lady Burke," he said shortly, and backed from the room.

"What will you do once Niall is buried, Skye?" Adam de Marisco asked.

"I don't know, Adam. Sail home, but then where is my home? Is it at Burke Castle? I think not. I have never liked Burke Castle, but I lived there because it was Niall's home. Innisfana is the home of the O'Malleys, but it really belongs to my stepmother Anne and her sons. Ballyhennessey is Ewan's holding, and Lynmouth is Robin's. Only Greenwood, my London house, is truly mine, and for now I am not of a mind to live in London. I don't know where I belong, Adam." She smiled a small, rueful smile. "Skye O'Malley, the wealthy and all-powerful," she gently mocked herself, "is without a place to lay her head."

"Come with me," he said to her.

"Where?"

"I am of a mind to visit my mother," he said slowly, a smile lighting his big features.

"And where does your mother live?" she demanded, a small smile surfacing on her own lips.

"In the valley of the Loire. I told you that my mother remarried when I was twelve. My stepfather is the Comte de Cher, and the owner of Archambault, a chateau located on the River Cher a small ways from Blois. Archambault cannot rival Chambord, or Amboise, or Blois, or even Chenonceaux; but it is a charming and warm place. I would like you to see it, Skye. I would like you to meet my family."

"How strange," she remarked seriously. "I have never thought of you having a family, Adam."

"Yet I do. Though I left France twenty years ago to return permanently to Lundy, I have occasionally made visits to see my mother and her family; but this time I have not been back in seven years. Did you know that I have two full sisters, a half-sister, and two half-brothers, Skye? They are all grown and married, but I have family, sweet Skye. I have a family almost as large as your own. Come with me to them!"

"Why not," she answered flatly. "There is nothing else for me to do now."

"You will have to go home eventually, Skye. You have your children, but for now I think it best you come with me and purge your grief for Niall Burke."

"Adam, my children do not need me. With the exception of the last two they are virtually grown, and the little ones have done without me for two years. If I never came back it would not matter to them. I have no husband, and I am not needed by anyone. The O'Malleys have obviously managed quite well in my absence, so what is to keep me from joining you at Archambault?" she said dully.

He had never heard her sound like this, so spiritless, so lacking in enthusiasm for everything, life in particular. He would have rather she had screamed and raged at the heavens for Niall's death. He would have far preferred she sobbed and wept at her loss. This cool detachment was a little frightening. Adam prayed it would pass with time.

She was wrong, he thought. Her children did need her, and more important from his point of view, he, Adam de Marisco needed her. Once he had lost her; once he had deliberately let her go. Now he had no intention of ever letting her go again. She didn't know it yet, but he was never going to let Elizabeth Tudor use Skye again. He would never again let her be helpless in the face of the Queen's demands. Skye would not return across the channel until she was his wife. Once she had accused him of not loving her enough to fight for her. This time he would fight any and all who tried to take her away from him. Skye was his for now, and for all time!