“Sweet Skye, I… I love you, and I want you to be happy. If the thought of marriage to me displeases you, you must tell me so, for I would not have you be unhappy.”
“You do me great honor,” she said softly, “but I am not certain I love you, my lord. Surely you deserve a wife who loves you.”
“The love will come, sweetness. I want you safe.”
She raised her face to him. “Then gladly shall I be your wife, my lord!” Her blue eyes were shining with trust and even, he thought, a little happiness. “I promise to make you happy,” she told him shyly.
“You already make me happy,” he told her, and then his mouth sought hers, tasting and giving the sweet sensual delights she seemed to crave from him. His hands caressed the small globes of her breasts, and then his tongue was torturing the pink nipples to a peak of excitement, circling round and round the sweetly sensitive flesh until her breathing became ragged. He lowered her to the cushions and his hands gently spread her thighs. Tenderly he entered her, taking her there on the floor, delighting in her sigh of pleasure as his pulsing shaft thrust deep.
Her soft hands began stroking his back, sliding slowly down its length to cup and fondle his round buttocks. “Khalid! Oh, my Khalid!” she whispered with a hot little breath against his ear. He shivered. “Love me, my lord! Oh, love me well, my lord!” She exhorted him and, catching his rhythm, she moved with him until both of them were lost in the wildly spinning vortex of their shared passion.
So great was the desire they aroused in each other that Skye fainted and Khalid, to his amazement, came close to losing con- sciousness himself. As his seed thundered into her hidden valley he shook fiercely with the intensity of his passion. Drained, he rolled from her and gathered her into his arms, raining kisses on her beau- tiful face. “Oh God, I adore you! I adore you!” he murmured over and over again, and as she slowly climbed from the darkness she heard someone’s voice worshiping her. “Niall,” she murmured softly. “Niall!”
Khalid stiffened. “Skye, sweetness,” he said gently, “Skye, open your eyes.” And when she obeyed he said, “Who is Niall, my beloved?”
Immediately her eyes became clouded and confused. “Niall?” she asked, puzzled. “I know no Niall.”
He sighed. Whoever Niall was, Khalid envied him very much. Skye must have loved Niall. Still-it was he, Khalid, who now possessed her, and he would not lose her, as mis Niall had done. ”Sleep, my love,” he said cradling her against his chest. And slowly her breathing became even and regular.
He lay awake most of the night struggling with himself. Was it possible that she was regaining her memory, or was the outcry just a fluke, never to be repeated? The doctor had said that Skye would not find herself again unless faced with the identical situation that had caused her trauma, and the chances of that happening were so remote as to be impossible. There was no danger of her recovering. He would marry her! Was he not entitled to some happiness? He wanted her, and he wanted the children of her loins.
He rose with the first light, and left her sleeping. In his dayroom his body servant lay sleeping before the door. Gently, Khalid nudged him with a slippered foot. When the slave’s eyes flew open, Khalid said, “Fetch my secretary immediately. I will be in the library.” Stumbling to his feet, the slave hurried off. Drawing his white robe about him, Khalid el Bey went to his library to await the secretary. He arrived a few minutes later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“I am sorry to bring you from your bed so early, Jean, but there are some urgent matters.” The secretary nodded, sat, and took up his pen. A French captive, Jean gave thanks for his monastery ed- ucation because it made him useful as a secretary. Otherwise, he would now be in the mines like so many others.
Khalid el Bey spoke. “Draw up manumission papers for the slave girl known as Skye. I want her legally free. Then draw up a marriage contract between the freedwoman known as Skye, and myself. Her bride’s price shall be this house, the estate, and twenty-five thousand gold dinars. Consult the mullah for the exact wording.
“Then,” he continued, “send for the astrologer, Osman. I wish a consultation today. Wait! Before anything you must send a message to the Lady Yasmin telling her that all lessons are postponed until further notice. Say nothing else. That should get you started. I will return later.”
As Khalid el Bey left, Jean heard him order a waiting slave, “See that Jean is sent breakfast immediately,” and the little Frenchman marveled that his master was so thoughtful. This was not the first time, either. The bey’s good manners had won his secretary’s loyalty from the very first.
Jean wondered what was in his master’s mind. He could have any woman without marriage. Why marriage? And Yasmin would be very angry. But Jean’s Gallic logic was on the side of his lord’s decision. It was time he settled down and had children. And besides, the lady Skye was the fairest woman Jean had seen in years.
Khalid el Bey returned to his bedchamber. Skye was gone, and he knew she had returned to her own chambers. Following her there, he heard giggles coming from the bathing room and found Skye and the pretty twin Ethiopian slave girls all splashing about the scented pool. He watched for a moment, struck by the vivid contrast of their wet bodies-ivory and ebony, sleek and shining.
Skye saw him first and, swimming over to the shallow end of the pool, came partway up the steps and held out her hand in invitation. She was like a goddess standing there in her nude young beauty, and he could feel his desire rising. He held his arms out and the two slave girls scrambled from the pool to remove his robe. Nude, his desire became visible to all. Skye’s blue eyes twinkled and, throwing him a saucy look, she dove back into the pool, giving him a delicious view of her sleek flanks. “Leave us!” he growled to the two girls, and dove after Skye.
He was amazed to find what a strong swimmer she was. She laughed mischievously at him and dove beneath the water to emerge in midpool. His own laughter sounded now. “Where in the name of the seven djins did you learn to swim like that, you vixen?”
Her blue-green eyes widened innocently, and she shrugged. ”Alas, my lord Khalid. I know not. Are you not afraid to take such a wife to your bosom? Who knows what else I may know?”
He swam over to her and, gently, with a restrained passion that she instantly sensed, he took her face between his thumb and fore- finger. His golden amber eyes regarded her gravely. “I am not afraid to take such a wife to my bosom, Skye. Whatever surprises are in store for us will only serve to make our life more piquant. I love you, my little lost one. I love you!”
Slim white arms slid up around him. Her small round breasts pressed against the dark furred mat of his chest as she offered him her lips. “Khalid, be sure, I would not hurt so good a man. You are all I know, and I should be lost without you, but is that enough for you? I can offer only myself, and I do not even know very much about who I am.”
“What is between us is good, Skye. Your lovely body responds well to mine. We like each other, and more couples than not have started life together with less. Do not fear, my love. You do not cheat me. It is a good bargain we make between us. Your concern for me does you credit. But now, my beautiful one,” he swept her up in his arms, “I want to make love to you again.”
She wiggled, wet and protesting, against him. “It is morning!”
“A most delightful time,” he agreed, laying her on the sun- warmed tiles that surrounded the pool. He straddled her.
“Someone will see us, Khalid,” she protested.
“No one would dare to disturb us,” he growled. His staff was hard and seeking against her thighs. “I want you, Skye. I want your tempting little body. I want you hot and sweet and yielding beneath me,” he whispered against her ear. She shivered deliciously as his tongue explored her ear, and shivered again as he moved downward along the scented length of her neck, biting gently at her silken shoulder. Skye soon forgot the bright sunshine. Khalid’s hands were on her hips, stroking and stroking the fires of her passions. He suckled at her breasts, drawing a cry of pleasure. “Open your legs for me, now, my love,” he murmured. “That’s it, my darling, take me into your fiery sweetness. Ahh… Skye, your little honey-oven is made for me! Hold me tightly, my love! Ahhh!”