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 grand-
mother 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 erad-
icated the moment I first saw my daughter.

“As to Contanza’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 some-
thing 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.”

“Si, 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 cov-
erlet 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, nina?” he asked mischie-
vously. “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 breeched.” 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, claw-
ing 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
he lady Skye was charming, witty, and gently spoken. It was said
hat 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 be was known to be sexually
insatiable. Favors from Captain Jamil were easily bought simply by
›resenting 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
mall, flaccid manhood. Finally, as their simultaneous efforts resulted in success, the girl at the lower end mounted the man and
ode 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 con-
tinued 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.”