“You look like an outraged kitten,” he observed in an amused tone.
“I was thinking,” she replied, “that the marquesa, for all her low décolletage and painted face, is at least ten years your senior.”
Niall gave a whoop of laughter and kissed her soundly. “Oh, niña, what a sharp little tongue you have.” Then his eyes caressed her, and he said, “Soon I shall teach you to use that naughty tongue in a sweeter pursuit,” and Constanza felt a strong warmth sweep over her. Since that afternoon in the meadow he had not known her intimately. His behavior had been that of any proper gentleman with his betrothed. It had made her a little afraid, especially after her monthly show of blood had arrived on time. Perhaps he regretted his proposal but was too well mannered to withdraw it? Now, however, his eyes told her that she had been foolish to be afraid. As the relief flooded through her she felt quite giddy.
The afternoon lengthened and became evening. Finally Ana was at her elbow, whispering, and Constanza rose discreetly and left the courtyard. “Come in an hour, my lord,” said the servant woman softly, and Niall acknowledged the message with a faint nod. Shortly afterward the Conde slipped into the seat nearest him.
“I did not mention it before, but Constanza’s maternal grandmother was English. Part of her dowry was a house on the Strand in London. It is not large, nor elegant, but it has been kept in good repair. It came to me through Constanza’s mother, and I have made it a part of your wife’s dowry. My London agent has already informed the tenants that they must leave. The house will be staffed and ready for you when you reach London.”
“My thanks, Don Francisco. The Burkes have long considered the value of a London house, and the Strand is an excellent location.” He glanced about the festive courtyard. “My gratitude also for this day. It has made Constanza so happy.”
“She is my daughter, Don Niall. Oh, I know that old gypsy witch, Ana, has convinced Constanza that I doubt her paternity and believe she killed her mother, but it is not so. Constanza was born with a heart-shaped mole on her right buttock. I have the identical mole, as do my brother, Jamie, our father, and our late grandfather. So did my two sisters. Any doubts I might have entertained were eradicated the moment I first saw my daughter.
“As to Constanza’s mother, Maria Theresa was as frail as she was proud. The agony of being held all those weeks in the licentious clutches of the Moors shamed her as greatly as it shamed me. She died because she could not bear to be whispered about for the rest of her life. How could a simple peasant like Ana understand something like that?”
He sighed. “Be good to my Constanza, Don Niall. She is so much like her mother. When you take her away, it will be like losing Maria Theresa again.” He then rose quickly, and joined a group of his friends on the other side of the courtyard.
Niall was astounded by these revelations, and the brief glimpse he had just had into the Conde’s soul. No wonder he had been so generous with Constanza’s dowry. It included an estate in Spain, the villa here on Mallorca, an enormous settlement in gold with the promise of more to come when the Conde died, and now a London house. He smiled to himself. The MacWilliam would be quite pleased, for Niall was certainly bringing home an heiress.
A servant refilled his goblet, and he watched the gypsy dancers with a growing feeling of peace. Quaffing down the cup, he rose and went to his room where he found his manservant waiting with a steaming tub. Silently, he bathed, sniffing appreciatively at the sandalwood soap. Standing up, he sluiced water down his body, and was carefully dried.
“Where is my lady?”
“She awaits my lord in the bedchamber next to his own.”
“Tell Ana I am coming. Tell her to leave my wife. You are dismissed for the night.”
“Sí, my lord.”
Niall examined his naked body in the pier glass and was pleased by what he saw. His illness and idleness hadn’t put any flab on him. He turned, picked up a small object from out of a drawer, and entered the scented candlelit chamber where Constanza lay beneath the coverlet of their bed. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.
“I sleep this way,” he said by way of explanation.
“So do I, but Ana made me put on a nightdress. She said it was expected tonight.”
“Shall we shock Mallorcan society, niña?” he asked mischievously. “Stand up quickly,” he commanded, and when she obeyed he tore the dainty lawn gown from her body and tossed the pieces across the room. “And now, to assure my honor and proclaim your purity to all …” He held his hand over the bed and tightly closed his fist. Blood splattered the sheets in the center. Constanza shrieked, and Niall laughed. “Perfect, my love! Now the wedding guests will believe your maidenhead successfully breached.” He wiped his hand clean of blood and tossed the linen towel in the fire. “It was a piglet’s bladder filled with chicken blood,” he explained. “Your Ana gave it to me this morning.”
“Oh,” she answered wide-eyed. “I never thought …” her voice trailed off.
He laughed. “Neither did I, but your Ana, bless her, did. I am glad she’s coming with us. Now, you tempting little piece, come here to me! This last month I’ve gone half mad remembering our afternoon in the meadow.”
“Oh, I have too!” she confessed. He picked her up and put her gently on the bed. Then he joined her. “Is that very shocking, Niall?”
“Hell, no, lovey! I’d rather you were eager for me than cold and retiring.” He pulled her into his arms almost roughly and her belly fluttered in anticipation. How many times had she dreamed of that afternoon, seeing the red stallion thrusting his big penis into the quivering little white mare, and then seeing Niall looming above her, lowering his body onto hers, thrusting his own great penis into her. There had been days when she had writhed on her bed with the memory half a dozen times.
Now as he buried his face in her warm breasts, she sighed. Her golden orbs grew hard as his mouth drank first from one and then from the other. His tongue circled the nipples again and again until she begged him to take her. He laughed. Niall had recognized the wanton in her, and now he was curious to see how far he might drive her.
His warm tongue licked her soft, fragrant skin, moving downward from her navel, stopping, then moving up each leg from the knee, stopping again. She thrashed wildly, her blond hair tangling. Fascinated, Niall let his lips and eyes wander to the soft defenses of her womanhood. With gentle fingers he parted the plump folds to stare in fascination as her tender little button grew stiff and throbbing. His mouth fastened about it, and tasted its sweetness.
“Ohhh, dear God, don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”
Twice she climaxed under the ministrations of his demanding mouth. At last, unable to bear much more himself, he drove his root into her warm and fertile body. She cried out her pleasure, wrapping her legs tightly around him, moving fiercely with his rhythm, clawing at his back in her passion as he emptied himself into her.
Rolling off her, he saw that she was in a semiconscious state. He gathered her into his arms gently so that her return would be a warm and safe one. He was delighted with this marvelous, passionate creature to whom he was wed. It was almost too good to be true, and yet it was true. He had found the perfect mate, the woman from whose loins the next generation of Burkes would spring. Constanza stirred faintly in his arms. “Good-bye, Skye, my dear true love,” Niall whispered softly, and turned to face his new young wife.
CHAPTER 12
THE WIFE OF KHALID EL BEY WAS THE MOST FAMOUS WOMAN in the city of Algiers. Three nights each week she presided, unveiled, over her husband’s banquet table. The all-male guests were shocked at first, but they quickly recovered, for the lady Skye was charming, witty, and gently spoken. It was said that she knew as much about running her husband’s businesses as he did, but no man gave that rumor serious consideration, for it was too absurd. Allah had fashioned women for man’s pleasure, and for birth, but nothing else.
All envied Khalid el Bey his beautiful wife, but none envied him more than Jamil,
the captain of the Casbah fort. The Turkish soldier had quite a respectable harem, for he was known to be sexually insatiable. Favors from Captain Jamil were easily bought simply by presenting him with a beautiful, skilled slave. Still, Jamil lusted after Skye, desperate to possess her. She had intrigued him greatly by refusing his overtures. He bribed the women of Skye’s household to smuggle in gifts of jewels, flowers, and comfits. All were returned, their wrapping not even opened. Furious, he managed to separate her from her guests on two occasions, only to be rebuffed, even insulted. Never in his life had Jamil been refused so strongly, and the insult rankled. He was determined to possess Skye.
Tonight he lay sprawled on a couch in the House of Felicity, watching with Yasmin through a two-way mirror. On the other side of the mirror was one of the city’s most respected merchants, who lay naked and tied while two lovely young girls serviced him. One crouched over his head, her plump little pussy rubbing against his open mouth, while the other sucked frantically on the merchant’s small, flaccid manhood. Finally, as their simultaneous efforts resulted in success, the girl at the lower end mounted the man and rode him to glory.
Jamil laughed heartily. “Poor darlings, he’s not worth their effort. Send them both to me later and I’ll reward them with a real workout.”
“I thought you intended spending the night with me,” she pouted. “I do not give my favors to just anyone.”
“Would you deny me an appetizer before a gourmet meal?” he flattered her.
Yasmin almost purred. She enjoyed Jamil. He was the best lover she’d ever had—next to Khalid. Khalid, damn him, had ceased his visits since falling in love with Skye. A look of anger flashed across her beautiful face. Jamil caught it instantly.
“What is it, my pet?” he queried. “You have been increasingly irritable of late. Tell Jamil, and he will make it better.”
She hesitated before admitting, “It is my lord Khalid. He is so changed. I do not know him anymore, and it is all the fault of his wife.”
“She is quite beautiful,” he said wickedly. “But of course, I do not know her.”
“I wish to Allah she were dead! Then my lord Khalid would come to me again.”
“Perhaps,” he mused, “it could be arranged, my dear.” He continued smoothly despite her startled look. “Of course, I should expect certain remunerations from you for my help. But what difference should the death of one woman make to anyone? Especially a woman with no memory, no powerful connections.”
Yasmin was fascinated in spite of herself. “But, how?” she asked.
“If I wanted someone dead I should chose the time and place carefully, and then I should wield the blade myself. The fewer people involved the better, would you not say? Who would suspect you if we were seen to enter your chambers together on the night in question?”
“When, Jamil? When?”
He smiled. “Tomorrow night, my dear Yasmin. The sooner the better. I shall send a message to Khalid el Bey asking that he meet me at the Casbah fort. Afterward I shall simply deny that I sent any message. You and I shall be seen entering your rooms. I shall stay the night. You will slip out and walk to Khalid el Bey’s house. Enter through the garden. The lady Skye should be alone, possibly even sleeping. Strike quickly, check to be sure you have succeeded, then leave.”
“Why are you so willing to help me?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.
“We are friends, Yasmin. Khalid’s woman means nothing to me, but you do. If my plan seems harsh, my dear, you need not act on it. The choice is yours.”
“No! You are, as always, Jamil, direct and to the point. I will do it!”
The captain smiled toothily as Yasmin rose. She said, “I will send the two girls you desire to the baths and then to you. From this night on, anything you want in the House of Felicity is yours.”
Jamil could not believe either his luck or Yasmin’s gullibility. He would have to work quickly now. The slave-spy he had placed in Khalid el Bey’s house would have to be informed and instructed in two tasks. The first would be to give the bey a sleeping draught in his wine so that he would retire early. Then the slave would tell Skye that a man claiming to know something of her past was at the front gate asking to see her. This would keep Skye out of the house while Yasmin entered the darkened sleeping chamber. She would kill the bey believing it was Skye.
He chuckled wickedly, well pleased with himself. His spy would be a tongueless mute soon after the murder and could not implicate him. In fact, he would see the hapless creature sold off. As for Yasmin … well, the penalty for murder was rather severe. A killer was tortured first and then thrown from the city walls onto the iron spikes that studded the walls. Sometimes a prisoner could linger for several days. Strangely, the women were the longest-lived. It would be interesting to see how long Yasmin would last.
Naturally, Jamil would offer his strong arm and protection to the grieving widow. The grieving rich and beautiful young widow, he amended his thoughts. An idea struck him. Perhaps he would marry Skye. He need not remain the Sultan’s captain-governor of the Casbah fort forever. He could as easily retire here in Algiers as anywhere else. Besides, Skye would need someone to run Khalid el Bey’s various business interests. Jamil had never had a wife, but with the bey’s wealth in his pocket he could afford four wives as well as a fine harem. With unlimited money a man might have anything he desired. Jamil sighed, musing on the pleasure and wealth Khalid el Bey’s death would bring him. To be sure, he would be losing a good and interesting friend, but that could not be helped.
His thoughts were interrupted by the entry of the two girls who had earlier entertained the merchant. Giggling nervously, for they knew his reputation, they knelt submissively at his feet.
“How may we serve you, lord?” they chorused.
He viewed them through cruelly narrowed eyes. “Let us begin with the same exercise you performed earlier on your merchant client,” he said. “We will progress slowly and inventively from there.”
And across the city, Skye lay awake hugging her happy secret to herself. There was no doubt now. She was with child, and oh! how happy Khalid would be when she told him! They had entertained earlier, and then he had gone off on his customary nighttime rounds of his houses. When he came back she would surprise him with the news. Smiling, she imagined the look on his face. She folded her hands protectively across her belly. It was much too early to feel any life, but she tried to imagine what the son of Khalid el Bey would look like.
Hearing his step, she rose and ran to greet him. His strong arms wrapped about her, and he kissed her very thoroughly. His mouth inflamed her, and when his hands slipped beneath her gauze gown to caress her trembling body she almost forgot what she had waited to tell him.
“Khalid! Stop! I have news.”
“Yes, my love,” he murmured, pulling her robe open to nuzzle at her pretty breasts. His mouth closed over a pointed nipple; he sucked hard on it, and she almost fainted. It was no use. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her news would wait. She swayed against him and he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Somewhere along the way their garments were shed.
He put her down on the middle of the mattress, positioning her body carefully. Then he straddled her just as deliberately, his hairy, well-muscled legs lying outside her smooth ones. Sitting back on his haunches, his heels against his tight buttocks, he reached out his hands to play with her. One moved forward to pinch gently at her sensitive little nipples, the other moved behind him to tickle the soft throbbing flesh of her sweet cleft.
Skye’s eyes narrowed like a cat’s and she murmured her pleasure. “So, my lord husband, you would tease me. Two can play at the same game.” And she cupped the sac of his manhood in her right hand, rolling his balls with a provocative rhythm while her left hand stroked his rod with equal expertise. She elicited a groan of delight from him.
For several minutes they continued to caress each other until both had reached a peak of excitement that offered only one satisfaction. Sk
ye enjoyed pleasuring Khalid as much as he enjoyed pleasuring her. As always, she felt a thrill of excitement as she watched him grow big and hard for her.
The bey watched his wife’s growing passion with delight. She was so beautifully natural, so unlike all the skilled whores he owned. To have such a wife was a blessing for which he was deeply grateful. He swung off her body now and said, “Let me play the great desert stallion tonight, my Skye. Roll over, and be my little wild mare.”
She knelt, her head resting on her arms, her white bottom facing him, ready. Kneeling, he gently inserted himself into her. Then one hand moved to squeeze and fondle her hanging breasts while, with the other, he did something he’d never done with her before. As she approached her climax, he pushed a finger into her anal orifice and sent her into such a frenzied climax that for one brief and terrifying moment he thought he’d done her some awful damage. Then, realizing that she had only fainted, he took his own release. It was a greater climax than usual because of his relief.
Afterward she lay relaxed in his arms and sighed with pleasure. “I was worrying,” she said, “that our lovemaking would not be as much fun now, but I see that it can continue to be just as delicious.”
“Why should anything be different, my love?”
“Because, my lord and husband, you are to be a father next spring. Is that not wonderful?”
The bedchamber was plunged into deep silence. Slowly then, awareness began to grow, and his face took on a brilliant glow. He caught her to him.
“You’re sure?” he cried, tearfully, hugging her to him fiercely.
“Yes! Yes!” she gasped, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Oh my Skye! No one has ever given me a greater gift than you have given me in yourself. And now you will give me a child, too. It is too much, my love. Far too much. Thank you, thank you!” And he wept, still holding tightly to her.
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