Skye O'Malley

elegance and?wealth.

As Skye departed each room she snuffed out the beeswax candles?carefully. She would not allow fat or tallow in the house, even in?the servants quarters, for she disliked the smell. There were porce-?lain bowls of potpourri in all the rooms. The river was known, after?all, to stink occasionally.

She entered her apartment and found Daisy, who had arrived?several days ago, dozing by the fire. The girl jumped when she saw?her mistress.

“Daisy, you didn’t have to wait up. But since you’re here, unlace?me, and then off to bed with you.”

“I don’t mind, mistress,” said Daisy as she undid Skye’s gown?and helped her out of her petticoats. She wisked the clothing into?the dressing room and soon was back dipping water from the fireplace?kettle into an earthenware pitcher. “Are you sure you don’t need me?further, ma’am?”

“No, Daisy. Go to bed.”

The little maid was quickly gone. Skye sat down wearily and?carefully rolled off her gossamer stockings. Naked, she walked?across her room and had a leisurely wash with her favorite damask?rose soap. Sliding into an embroidered pale-blue silk caftan, she?extinguished the candles and went to sit in her bedroom window?seat, facing the river.

The moon silvered the water. She could see a barge pull into the?quai two houses down. Two figures, a man and a woman, climbed?out of the boat and went slowly up the steps to the garden. At the?top of the stairway they kissed for a long moment. Then the gentle-?man picked up the lady and they were lost to view. Sighing, she?sought her bed, and slept badly. The memory of the romantic scene?she had watched bumed into her and made her ache. Skye was?twenty years old, and for the first time since Khalid’s death over a?year ago, she deeply wanted a man to love her. She rose, weeping?softly, and took a bottle of blackberry brandy from her dayroom?sideboard. She then crawled back into the window seat and drank?herself to sleep.

Next door, the owner of the small riverside palace was also wake-?ful. The Earl of Lynmouth paced his bedroom floor excitedly,?scarcely able to believe his good fortune. Not only was his new?neighbor the beautiful Senora Goya del Fuentes, but he had found?a way to victory over de Grenville. He chuckled. He would pay his? respects to the lady, but if she had not willingly succumbed by

Twelfth Night, then he would blackmail her into submission.

The Earl of Lynmouth entertained lavishly, and his parties were?famous. He had recently come up to London to see that his house?was properly prepared for Christmas and Twelfth Night. The Queen?herself would be attending several seasonal festivities, including his?Twelfth Night masque. Geoffrey had been quite astounded to find?mat the beautiful Mistress Goya del Fuentes was the owner of the?little jewel of a house at the end of the Strand, and had watched?with interest as the house was refurbished. A connoisseur, he noted?her choices with an approving eye as the tradesmen lugged their?merchandise into her house.

Now the time had come for him to make his first move to capture?the lady. He would woo her gently at first, and then if necessary he?would threaten her with exposure. Through a fantastic piece of luck,?he had discovered her true history. He owned a one-third share in?a ship that traded in the Mideast, and when it had returned recently?to London he had gone aboard to see to his interests. Through the?bow window of the master’s cabin he had seen Robert Small. He?asked his Captain Browne, “Do you know who that man is on the?next ship?”

“Aye, my lord. That be Captain Robert Small of Bideford in?Devon. The Mermaid is his ship.”

Captain Browne drew in on his pipe, then gently puffed out a?curl of blue smoke. “Robbie Small is a lucky devil, my lord. He?needn’t go off to sea at all, for he’s a wealthy man and was born?of gentry, too. But the sea’s a wanton bitch, and when she gets in?your blood it’s hard to rid yourself of her.”

“Was he born to wealth?” prodded the Earl gently.

“No. The family fortunes were pretty low until he went into?partnership with the great Whoremaster of Algiers, Khalid el Bey.?How they met I don’t know, but they somehow became friends and?the bey backed Robbie in several ventures. Finally when he was on?his feet, they became equal partners. And so they remained for over?ten years.”

“What happened then?”

“The bey was killed a year and a half ago, murdered by one of?his women. Bless me! He ran the finest cathouses in the East, he?did. The most famous of them was called the House of Felicity, and?the woman who ran it for him finally did him in. They say she was?jealous of his young wife, and thought it was the wife she was? stabbing. At any rate, the young widow soon disappeared and it was?discovered that she had sold everything her husband owned. The?captain-governor of the Casbah fortress went wild with rage. He’d?had his eye on the young widow. God help Robbie Small if he ever sets foot in Algiers again, for the Casbah captain knows Small helped?the lady Skye leave Algiers.”

Geoffrey Southwood felt his heart lurch wildly. “Skye?” he asked.

“The bey’s wife. Her name was Skye muna el Khalid. She herself?is another wild tale. More wine, sir?”

“Tell me!”

And so Captain Browne told him all he had heard about Skye,?which was a great deal indeed. And when Geoffrey left the ship,?he was elated. His coach clattered back through the noisy city streets?and he began to plot.

It was her! There could be no mistake! And he had her, for there?was a child. The bey’s child? Probably. Robert Small did not act?like her lover. She would probably do anything to protect her child,?for the child’s future would be determined by its family’s reputation.?As long as she was the respectable young widow, all would be well.?She would not want her true story known, for her own sake and for?the child’s. Yes… Geoffrey had her!

Geoffrey Southwood was a wealthy man. Although he seldom?discussed it, his paternal grandmother had been a rich merchant’s?daughter. Over the past few centuries many noble families had mar-?ried into the monied middle class to increase their finances. The?Southwood family understood that money was power. They were?not an important family, but their title was an ancient one, earned?on the field at the Battle of Hastings.

The first Earl of Lynmouth had been Geoffroi de Sudbois, the?third son of a noble Norman family. He had joined Duke William’s?invasion of England in hopes of winning a place for himself and his?descendants, for there was nothing for him in his native France. His?oldest brother was his father’s undisputed heir and had three sons?of his own. The next de Sudbois brother had opted for the religious?life, and was already the valued right hand of his prior. The Duke?of Normandy’s invasion of England was a godsend to Geoffroi de?Sudbois, for it offered him a chance to make a place for himself.

His father gave him war-horses and their equipage, along with?a small velvet bag of gold. When Geoffroi’s oldest brother protested,?his father said, “As long as I live, what is mine shall be disposed?of as I choose. When I am gone, and it is yours, you may dispose?of it your way. Do not be greedy, Gilles. Your brother cannot?succeed unless he is properly equipped and mounted. Do you want?him to always have nothing? To be constantly coming back here?coveting your position, his mere presence a threat to your boys? It?will be better for all if he makes a place for himself in England.”

The eldest de Sudbois son understood his father’s point, and even?pressed upon his surprised brother a fat purse of silver marks. This purse proved the means by which he recruited himself a small troop?of cavalry. Those who joined him supplied their own horses, mail,?and weapons. He paid them one silver mark upon debarkation for?England. What booty they could take in battle was theirs to keep.?and there was always a chance to win oneself land and even a title.

The young Seigneur de Sudbois and his thirty-five men made an?impressive addition to Duke William’s invading army. Even more?impressive was the soldier that de Sudbois proved himself to be. He?managed to fight near his Duke twice, once even preventing a direct?attack upon his overlord. Toward the end of one day, he found?himself in.on the kill of the English King, Harold.

Duke William of Normandy had seen enough of the young lord-?ling to be both amused and impressed. “He’s a valuable man,”?observed the Duke, “and God knows he’s worked hard enough to?win a bit of this land for himself. I’ll give him something down in?the south, toward the west If he can take the land and hold it, it’s?his.”

Geoffroi de Sudbois took and held the little earldom of Lynmouth.?He ruthlessly slew the Saxon lord of the holding and all his kin,?with the exception of the Saxon’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Gwyneth.

He raped her upon the hall’s long table and, when the girl was?proved a virgin, he sent for a priest and wed her instantly. The?practical Gwyneth cleaved to her new lord and dutifully sired the?next generation. Within a hundred years de Sudbois was anglecized?to Southwood, but through the many generations the ruthlessness?of the original