Yasmin sighed. Gathering the last of her strength, she said, “I thought it was you. Jamil p-planned it, but it was all for him, wasn’t it? Jamil wants you. Beware of him.” Then, as if a candle had been blown out, the life fled from her eyes and Yasmin was gone.
Skye stood. The room was bright now, lit by the lamps held by all the household slaves who stood clustered in tight little groups, some of the women beginning to sob. Skye stared at them, fighting to retain her control. She must not go to pieces now. as she had obviously done when she lost her memory. She owed Khalid mat much, for he must be revenged. The Turkish captain-governor could not kill her husband and escape judgment. Who had heard Yasmin’s confession? Only she and Captain Small had been close enough to hear the painfully whispered words. The next nearest people had been Jean and Marie. The slaves had all been afraid of coming too close.
Stepping over Yasmin’s body, Skye moved to the bed and sat next to the still form of her husband. There was virtually no blood to be seen. By some twist of fate the dagger had pierced only vital organs, but no arteries. “I would be with my lord,” she said quietly, and she heard the shuffle of feet and men the closing door.
Alone, she wept her terrible grief in silent pain, rocking back and forth, holding herself, as if that would prevent her from shattering. Her head ached and waves of pain and nausea began to rack her.
Suddenly she heard Robert Small commanding, “Voice it, lass!
Voice your pain or else it will kill both you and his babe. Is that what you want? If so, take Yasmin’s escape, for it’s quicker.”
She saw the Englishman standing by the door. He had never left her. Now, crossing the room in three strides, he grasped her by the shoulders and shook her. “Damn it, lass! Cry! Scream! Curse the heavens, but in God’s name get it out!”
She sobbed softly once, then stopped. He hit her hard several times, and suddenly her resistance broke. Opening her mouth, Skye wailed her grief with such loud and terrible cries that they echoed throughout the house. The slave women, grieving softly until then, joined in their mistress’s tragic lamentation and soon the whole house rang with grief. Shortly the sounds echoed through the entire neigh- borhood. People began to gather, and it was not long before everyone knew that Khalid el Bey had been murdered by his jealous slave woman, Yasmin.
Slowly Skye’s grief eased. Looking a final time on her beloved husband, she bent and kissed his cold lips. Then, supported by Robert Small, she left the room and walked downstairs to the bey’s library. “Get Jean and Marie for me, Robbie. I must be revenged, and I will need help.”
When the four of them were gathered together in private, Skye quietly repeated Yasmin’s dying words to Jean and Marie. The Frenchman was shocked, but his wife sniffed, “I would put nothing past that evil Turk. Look how he killed my little cousine, Celestine. He has no real heart, that one!” She began to weep. “He claimed to be the master’s best friend, and yet he killed him without a second thought because he wished to possess Madam!” Jean comforted his wife as best he could.
“We will both be revenged, Marie,” said Skye, “but before we can be, we must lull Jamil into a sense of security. He must not even suspect that we know he is responsible for my lord’s murder. Let him feel safe-and then we will strike!”
“You cannot revenge yourself on the Sultan’s governor and re- main safely in Algiers,” said Robert Small firmly. “The dey would be forced to punish you in the Sultan’s name.”
“I cannot remain here under any circumstances, Robbie. The memories I have of Khalid and our life together would break my heart. And though I am capable of running the House of Felicity, who would do business with a woman? Sell everything here in Algiers, but do it secretly. Have the money transported to our Lon- don goldsmith.”
“The house also?” asked Jean.
“The house, the seaside kiosk, sell all.”
“What of the slaves?”
“Prepare papers of manumission for them all. I shall give each of them the price he or she is worth in order that they may all get started in another life. Those who wish to come with me may do so, but no one is to be told until we are ready to leave. I hope, Jean, that you and Marie will come with me. But if you choose to return to Brittany I will understand.”
“There is nothing for us in Brittany, my lady. Our families are gone. Marie’s entire village is gone. We would rather stay with you, for we love you as we loved the bey.”
“Thank you,” said Skye. “I would have been lost without you both.”
There was a scratching at the door, and when Skye called out, ”Enter,” a slave came in to announce that the captain-governor was on his way up the driveway.
“Hold him off for a few minutes,” she told Jean. He left the room immediately. “Robbie, you go too. I shall go upstairs through the secret passage here in the library. Marie, quickly!”
Skye drew two leather-bound volumes from a shelf and, reaching into that former space, pulled at a hidden lever. The bookcase swung open to reveal an interior staircase. “Shut it behind us, Robbie,” she said, handing him the books. Then the two women were gone. They hurried up the stairs, which opened out into Skye’s old room.
“I cannot ever go back in there,” she told Marie, referring to the bedchamber she had shared with Khalid. She quickly stripped off her white silk caftan. “Get me the azure gauze chamber robe, Marie.” Marie fetched the gown, smiled with appreciation of Skye’s strategy.
The captain-governor will be so blinded by lust,” she remarked as Skye dressed, “that he will believe whatever you tell him, madam.”
Skye nodded. “I must not rouse his suspicions,” she said, “and I need time. Send my women to me, Marie. The captain-governor will expect to find the grieving widow surrounded by her weeping handmaidens, and I must not disappoint him.” A look of physical pain crossed her face, and suddenly she began to weep uncontrol- lably, her sobs interspersed with bursts of hysterical laughter. “Oh, God, Marie! It is too macabre! How Khalid would appreciate the role I play.”
Marie looked stricken, and the tears spilled from her eyes as she fled the room to do her mistress’s bidding. Skye flung herself on the divan, weeping soundlessly now. Khalid, oh, Khalid, she thought desperately. Please God, please! Let me wake and find him sleeping safely next to me! But she knew in her heart that her prayers were useless. He was dead, and lost to her. She heard the door open softly, and then her women were clustering about her like bright little butterflies, sobbing and clucking with sympathy. Skye didn’t even look up. She wept harder and soon she heard Marie’s cry of protest.
“My lord Jamil! You cannot enter my lady’s chamber! Her grief is too terrible to behold!”
“I was Khalid el Bey’s best friend,” boomed the captain-gover- nor’s deep voice.
Allah curse him! thought Skye fiercely.
“It is my duty to comfort his widow. Step aside! Khalid would have done the same for me.”
Allah strike him down this instant, for I do not think I can face him without betraying my feelings, Skye silently shrieked. But she breathed deeply and calmed herself. Khalid would be avenged.
The door opened again, and she knew Jamil had entered. There was a flutter and she realized that her maidens had gone, leaving her alone with him. She sobbed piteously.
“Skye, my dear, I am so sorry.”
She sobbed louder, fighting not to wince when she felt his arms about her. One hand imperiously forced her head up, and he stared into her eyes. He was somewhat taken aback by the depth of her grief, but he spoke nonetheless.