All the Sweet Tomorrows

by Bertrice Small

  Kedar had begun to make love to her now, and Skye was still so engrossed in her own thoughts that she responded automatically. He, however, was so totally fascinated with her by now that he did not even notice. Pride of ownership surged through him, and he almost howled his triumph of possession as he quickly emptied his lust into her womb. When he fell on her breasts, panting with exhaustion, she finally noticed, and her lip curled with disgust as she wondered if she would ever get the stink of him and his unbridled passion off her skin, out of her nostrils. She shuddered, and again Kedar misinterpreted her feelings, assuming the shiver was one of satisfaction.

  “We are so perfectly suited, my jewel,” he said.

  “Indeed, my lord,” Skye replied. “Indeed.”

  Chapter 11

  ALGIERS! Skye had wondered when she left Algiers those many months ago whether she would see the city again. Nor had she ever really thought to see Osman ever again, yet here he was hugging her, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

  “Allah be praised, my daughter, you are safe!” He stepped back and viewed her critically. “You are thinner.”

  She nodded. “It has not been easy. You have seen Hamal, my friend?”

  Osman nodded. “As you know, he rode in ahead of the caravan three days ago so that we might be warned of your imminent arrival. The old Dey is in quite a dither over the prospect of entertaining the Sultan’s daughter. He was even prepared to invite Kedar to stay at the palace, but Hamal discouraged it, saying that Kedar was only a business acquaintance of Turkhan’s, and besides, he was my nephew, and would want to stay with me. Getting your husband Niall out of the palace will be hard enough, but we should never have gotten you out.”

  “Are my ships here, Osman?”

  “Some in port, some lying just off the coast over the horizon.” Osman paused, and then said quietly, “Skye, my daughter, Jamil is back in the city.”

  She sucked her breath in sharply. “I knew it! I somehow sensed he would be here should I return.”

  “It is said that his potency is restored.”

  “Find me an assassin, Osman!”

  “Would you have his death on your conscience, my daughter?” Osman was shocked.

  “Khalid must be revenged! How his murder has haunted me all these years, Osman. I want Jamil dead! He deserves to die!”

  “Perhaps,” Osman agreed, “but I shall not let you make this grave error, Skye, my daughter. It was Khalid’s fate to die else you would not have returned to your own land, to your own destiny. I warned Khalid the morning he told me that he was going to wed with you, but he would not listen. When he made that decision his fate was sealed; but remember, Skye, it was his right to decide his own fate. His choices were clear, and so are yours. In Allah’s good time Jamil will be punished, but it is not up to you to wield the sword of justice over his head.” Osman put a comforting arm about her. “How strong your passions are, Skye. You are so consumed with your thoughts of revenge it does not even occur to you that you might be in danger yourself.”

  “It is only logic, Osman. I am in no danger, and I know it. The memory of Skye Muna el Khalid is long gone from Algiers, and of the few who know Muna, the slave of the lord Kedar, who would connect the two? I am simply an anonymous woman, as are all respectable women in this city. If Jamil came into this house tonight, he would still not know I was here, for he would certainly not be allowed the run of your women’s quarters.

  “I am more concerned as to when I may see Robbie,” she said.

  “Not until you escape, Skye,” Osman cautioned. “It is too dangerous for him to appear in my house, and I cannot take the chance that he be seen in your presence.”

  “Who would speak, Osman? I managed to avoid bringing anyone here from your nephew’s house by pretending that I was deeply desirous of serving him personally, and could take care of myself. As a reward for my devotion, he promised to buy me half a dozen maidens to serve me here in Algiers. Talitha was eminently relieved to be left behind, and much to Kedar’s annoyance, that chatterbox, Zada, found herself with child and had to be left behind.”

  “The little Berber Kedar bought to serve you is with child? Who is the father?”

  “Kedar!” Skye laughed. “Has he ever been averse to dipping his spoon into a handy honey pot?”

  Osman sighed deeply. “Kedar has never learned to be select in his lusts,” he remarked.

  “Robbie,” Skye reminded Osman.

  “Yes, my daughter, yes! Do not be impatient. Hamal and I have spoken, and we have already formulated part of the plan for your escape. Tomorrow the fast of Ramadan begins. For the next thirty days no true believer will eat or drink between dawn and sunset. Immediately after the sun has set, the feasting begins, and by the second hour after midnight all are asleep, filled with food and drink, to sleep until the noon hour of the following day. Business is conducted in those few hours until sunset. Hamal and I think the best time for you to make your escape would be in the early hours just before the dawn. It will be easy to slip some potent sleeping drug into Kedar’s cup in order to allow you to slip away.”

  “And Niall, Osman? What of my husband?”

  “Hamal and I believe he should not escape at the same time as you do. The coincidence would be far too great, and my family is far too involved now with Princess Turkhan to become the objects of her vengeance. You will be safe at sea upon your ship, where Kedar will not even consider seeking you.”

  “Get Niall out first, Osman,” Skye said. “I wouldn’t be able to rest easy if I had to leave him behind. He didn’t look well to me in Fez, and the few times I managed to catch a glimpse of him on the caravan trail he looked ill. Frankly,” and here Skye’s brow furrowed with concern, “I am fearful for him, Osman. His ordeal, it seems, has been far worse than any I have suffered here in Algiers or Fez.”

  “If you wish it, my daughter,” Osman promised. “Give me your husband’s birthdate now so I may plot his natal chart, as I have yours.” Guilelessly Skye did so, unaware that Osman was fearful for her. He had sought her own charts and updated them. He saw within Skye’s current stars great pain and personal tragedy; a tragedy that might well scar her emotionally for the rest of her days. Yet in the midst of the darkness was one great light, a dominant Leo, who might save her from herself. Knowing that Lord Burke had been born under the sign of the Scorpion Osman now knew that he was not that man. With a sad shake of his head and a deep sigh, Osman set about to again plot Niall Burke’s stars, knowing even as he did so what the end result had to be.

  The fast of Ramadan began, and was strictly kept throughout the city of Algiers by rich and poor alike. The town was fairly quiet during the day, but once the sun had set the scent of delicious foods could be smelled all over the city, and it was said that the starving grew fat on the smells alone.

  In the depths of Algiers a tailor sewed upon a costume that his color-blind and tired old eyes could only half make out. Still, his stitches and seams were neat with years of practice, and when he had finished he was paid a generous although not munificent sum. Too many dinars would have caused questions to be asked. The costume, that of a Janissary captain, was smuggled into the Dey’s palace and hidden carefully by Hamal. Niall’s escape was set for the ninth night of Ramadan.

  Returning from the Dey’s magnificent and rich feast, Turkhan demanded the immediate attendance of both of her favorites. Although they had traveled with her to Algiers and the Dey knew of their presence in his palace, Turkhan had wisely chosen not to flaunt her harem boys before her father’s representative. Now they appeared nude before her, as she preferred, but before she might direct their play into sexual channels Hamal was pressing a cooling goblet of lemonade upon her and Niall was stretching her out upon the floor pillows to massage her lush body with strong hands.

  Turkhan drank deeply, and then purred, “I shall fall asleep, Ashur.”

  “If you do,” he murmured low, with hot breath against her ear, “I will not let you sleep long, my Princess. Only lon
g enough to gain the strength you’ll need for a long night of my loving. Send Hamal away, my beautiful one.”

  Turkhan shivered with anticipatory delight. She pretended to consider Niall’s request while she drained the cup. Then she said, “My little lamb, seek your bed now.”

  Hamal knelt down, tenderly kissed Turkhan’s mouth, rose up, and left them. Niall returned to his ministrations of Turkhan’s voluptuous form, and was soon rewarded by her even breathing. Still he kept on, and then she began to snore lightly. “My Princess,” he whispered, and then his voice grew normal. “My Princess? Are you awake?” Turkhan slept on, and satisfied that his massage and the opiate in the lemonade had done their work, Niall rose and left the room.

  He encountered no one along the short route to his own quarters. Hamal was awaiting him with the Janissary captain’s costume. Niall dressed quickly, and as he slipped the clothing on he felt sure and strong for the first time in months. As Hamal adjusted the sash about his waist and fixed the hat upon his head, Niall nervously popped jellies into his mouth. It was going to work! He knew it was going to work. His spirits soared! In a few minutes he would be outside the Dey’s palace in the city of Algiers, and Robbie would be awaiting him.

  “Now remember, Ashur,” Hamal cautioned, “if you are stopped you must reply in Turkish. You could not have reached a captain’s rank unless you spoke Turkish.

  “Go back to Turkhan’s chambers, and leaving through her bedchamber, cut across the Dey’s garden to the western wall. You will find a door hidden beneath the vines halfway down the wall. It is open, and the hinges have been oiled so it should swing silently. Keep to the shadows. You should have very little trouble, for the garden is not brightly lit, but be cautious. Someone could be wandering. The old Dey, it is said, does not sleep well; or perhaps one of his women. One of your own people will be waiting for you on the other side of the wall.”

  “Hamal!” Niall grasped the younger man’s hands in his. “How can I thank you?”

  “Ashur, my friend, if I did not think that you were wrong for my Turkhan, I should not do this. She is in love with you, and your defection will cause her pain. I will, of course, be here to ease that pain. I understand your feelings for your beautiful wife, and I have ever been a fool for happy endings. We will both be happy—you with your lady, I with mine. Go now while all sleep!” He pressed a small flat gilt box in Niall’s hand. “A small token. Those damned jellies that you like so well made just as old Rabi prepares them for you.”

  Niall grinned almost boyishly. “Farewell, my young friend Hamal, and thank you.” Then he was quickly gone from the room.

  Hamal heaved a soft sigh of relief. In just a few short minutes Ashur would be gone from their lives, and Turkhan would be his alone! She would be angry and heartbroken by turns. She would demand that the Dey find her favorite, but within the hour Niall would be safely at sea. Turkhan would have no choice but to turn to him for her solace. Faithful Hamal. A small smile played about his lips. Faithful Hamal, who would soon be a free man again, a man who could legally claim half of his brother’s wealth, as well as all of his princess wife’s. He chuckled. Kedar would be quite surprised to discover his adversary was as ruthless as he himself was. And why not? Had he not learned at his brother’s knee before Kedar had so cruelly sold him into slavery? Hamal slipped silently back into his own small chamber next to Ashur’s, and, lying down, fell into a guiltless and satisfied sleep.

  In the meantime Niall had quietly re-entered Turkhan’s chamber. For a moment he stood over her, staring down at this bold woman who had demanded everything from him, expecting no less. Then without a backward glance he walked into the warm, black night of the Dey’s garden. Briefly he stood listening in the shadows, and then hearing no sound other than the night insects, he began his stealthy walk across the garden to the west wall. He moved quickly and silently, pausing every few minutes to listen, to look about him. High above him on the walls of the palace the Dey’s own men paced their watch, but not quite as alertly as usual, being full with food and fermented fruit juices. Only a direct attack by the infidel would have roused them now.

  Ahead of him was a small fountain that he was forced to circumvent. He paused for a moment, confused as to his direction, and for a brief second panic set in. But breathing deeply to calm his fears, Niall pressed onward, finally gaining the western wall. Carefully he felt his way along it, the thorny vines catching at his clothing. He smothered a curse as his hands grew badly scratched and pricked, but at last he felt the smooth surface of the little door beneath his bleeding palms. Sliding his hands downward, he found the latch. Slowly, cautiously he pressed down on the handle, and the door swung silently open. For a surprised moment he stared out into the street, then almost leapt through onto the cobbles, banging his forehead in the process. This elicited another curse. Then, remembering his danger, Niall Burke pulled the little garden door closed behind him, and hurried off down the street.

  At the bottom of the street a shadow joined him from a doorway, and he almost wept to hear a soft Devon voice say, “Let’s go, m’lord! Wouldn’t do to have the Turks catch us now, would it?”

  “Robbie? Is it you?” His heart was hammering joyously, and even the damned English tongue sounded good to his ears after so many months of first French, and then Arabic and Turkish.

  “Aye, m’lord, ’Tis me, and glad it is I am to see you. We’ve not far to go, but ’twould be best if we were silent now lest we cause suspicion by our speech. Follow me!”

  The ease of his escape after so many months of torturous captivity amazed Niall. Robbie was dressed like a corsair Reis, and the few people they passed thought nothing of the two men, one a Reis, the other a Janissary captain walking together toward the harbor. They reached it fairly quickly, for the Dey’s palace was quite nearby. Niall followed Robbie through the maze of docks until they arrived at a vessel he recognized as Skye’s flagship. With suddenly shaking legs he somehow managed to mount the gangway, expecting at any minute to hear a commanding voice from behind shout at him to stop. There was no voice, and he gained the deck to again follow Robbie into the main cabin.

  “Sit down, m’lord.” Robbie moved quickly to the sideboard and poured Niall a generous dollop of smoky Irish whiskey. He didn’t like the look of the man’s color at all. Handing it to the seated man, he said, “Drink it, m’lord. I’ve got to go topside and get us underway.”

  “Where is Skye, Robbie?”

  “The plan was that we get you out first. Lady Burke will be coming along in a few more nights.”

  “No! I’ll not leave without her, Robbie!” Niall had risen in protest.

  “M’lord,” Robbie said patiently, although his blood was beginning to boil angrily, “I have not the time to explain it to you, for we are yet in danger. But I promise I will come back once we have cleared the harbor. If you are considering acting foolishly, remember all the lives involved in getting you out, especially Lady Burke’s.” He then turned on his heel and slammed out of the cabin.

  Defeated, Niall sat heavily and pondered the amber liquid in his glass. He didn’t understand, and he was frightened for Skye. Was she even alive? He had caught glimpses of her as they had traveled from Fez to Algiers, although it hadn’t been easy. She had been forced to ride in a heavily guarded, silk-draped wagon. At least he and Hamal had been given horses to ride, although they were expected to pace their mounts on either side of Turkhan’s palanquin. He had not even managed a small sight of her in the last week before they reached Algiers, and then he had been housed in the Dey’s palace while she had gone with Kedar to Osman’s home. Surely if she were dead, or injured, or ill, they would have told him, wouldn’t they? Reaching into his robes, he drew out the gilt box Hamal had given him. He opened it and devoured three jellies. For some reason they always seemed to help him when he grew edgy.

  He frowned irritably. He was a man. He had never been given to fears and qualms before he had come to Algiers. Granted, his had been a rather harrowing
experience, but surely the shock would wear off now that he was safe among his own people again. When he could hold Skye in his arms once again it would be all right. He needed his wife. He needed Skye! Absently he reached for another jelly, and then he rose and refilled his goblet, savoring the whiskey as outside on the deck he heard the noise and the activity of the sailors beginning to get the ship underway. He heard the gentle creak of the vessel as it eased away from its dock and began to make its way out of the harbor. Looking out of the great window at the stern of the cabin, he saw the dark outline of the city, of the palace itself where Turkhan lay soundly asleep, unsuspecting that he had at last escaped her web. Dawn would not break for several hours yet, and by then they would be safely at sea. He didn’t know how long he sat silently watching as the city grew more and more distant, but suddenly he felt the full swell of the sea as the ship passed out of the sheltered harbor.

  The door to the cabin opened and Robert Small entered the room again. “There now, m’lord. We’re safely away.”

  “Skye? Why isn’t she aboard?” Niall demanded anxiously.

  Robbie poured himself a whiskey and seated himself next to Lord Burke. “It was thought if you both escaped at the same time a link between you might be established which would in time lead back to Osman and his family. “ ’Twould be a poor way to repay Osman, for ’twas he who told us you were yet alive, and arranged for Lady Burke to get to Fez to verify your existence.”

  “When will she come, Robbie? When?” Niall stuffed another jelly into his mouth, which, despite the whiskey, seemed dry and scratchy.

  “A few days at the most, m’lord. We’ll just sit quietly off the coast waiting for her. Bran Kelly and his crew will be there to take her out.”

  Niall nodded. “He’s a good man, Bran. Did he ever marry Skye’s little Daisy?”