“You will not send me away?” Her voice was frightened.

“No,” he held her by the shoulders and looked down into her
upturned face. “I shall not send you away, my little lost love.” And
again she was puzzled by the tender look in his eyes.

Alone in the night, Khalid el Bey paced the rooftop terrace of his
house. The sky above was black silk, relieved only by the crystal
blue stars. The air was still, yet it was perfumed by the sweet scent
of night-blooming nicotiana. It had become obvious to him that he
couldn’t make Skye a courtesan. Though her memory was buried,
a strong moral sense remained. He would send a note to Yasmin
tomorrow morning, stopping Skye’s lessons. Whatever he felt she
needed to learn he would teach her himself.

He had to admit to himself now that he was in love with Skye.
Her revulsion toward Ali today was only a part of it. The truth was
that Khalid el Bey did not want her in the House of Felicity pleasuring
a different lover every night. He wanted her in his own house, loving
him, and bearing his children. Yes, he loved her enough to honor
her by making her his wife. He felt like a boy again, and for the
first time since his love for Noor, he felt hope. Perhaps, he thought wryly, there was a god in the heavens, after all. At peace with
himself, he descended the steps to his own quarters.

To his surprise, Skye was asleep on the cushions by his couch.
For a brief moment he watched her, then he bent and dropped a kiss
on her cheek. She stirred, opened her magnificent sapphire eyes,
and sat up.

“I am afraid,” she said in a rush, “I have angered you. And if
you send me away-“ she stopped, trying to gather her thoughts.
”You are all I have, my lord Khalid. I remember nothing before
you, and if you send me away I shall die!”

Tenderly he gathered her into his arms. “I have spent many hours
alone with the night, my sweet Skye, and I have realized something.
I have decided that there is only one fate for you.” She trembled
against him, and he stroked her reassuringly. “Your fate is to be my
wife, beloved. I will love you, care for you, and protect you, my
Skye. I have never before wanted a wife, and it has been many years
since I really loved a woman. It has been my custom to make love,
but not give my heart. Do you understand the difference?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “You enjoyed their bodies, but not nec-
essarily the women themselves.”

He smiled in the semidarkness of the room. “You are wise, my
Skye. Now, love, tell me if you are still afraid.”

“No.”

“And are you pleased with my plans for your future? Will you
be happy to be my wife?” “Yes.”

“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.”