No Price Too High (27 page)

Keeping to the shadows and wishing she had a cloak with which to conceal herself, she inched along the hall toward the torch. She pressed back against the uneven wall when she heard Lord Vaudrey shout. Men swarmed out of a room two doors down from her and raced toward the other end of the corridor. More shouts and the crash of swords warned her that Shakir and his men must have arrived.

Lifting her sword, Melisande peered into the room and saw Lord Vaudrey examining some gold goblets. Gabriel squatted on the floor, ready to attack if he got the opportunity. She wished she could catch his eyes, but they were aimed on his enemy, seeking any weakness.

She ran into the room and pressed the tip of her sword against the baron's side. He dropped the goblets, and she realized he held his sword pointed at Gabriel. No matter. She could not hesitate now.

“Order your men to surrender,” she said with a smile.

“I will kill de la Rive.”

“Before I slay you?” She kept the sword against him. “If you doubt I will, we can send for Abd al Qadir. He can tell you how I fought off his men when you arranged for them to ambush us and kill Geoffrey and the other men.”

“But not you.” He chuckled. “Weren't you ever curious, Melisande, why you survived?”

“I have heard you bragging of the men you have sold into slavery.”

“But you were different, Melisande. You, I intended to keep.” He raised his hand and ran a finger along her ear, ignoring Gabriel's growl. “The daughter of an earl who had no heir could bring that title to my son.”

“Untie Gabriel or—”

“What can you do to me? You are a Hospitaller, sworn to be my ally. Will you inflict the wounds you vowed to tend and break your sacred pledge to save this infidel?” He laughed. “Allow me to protect the immortal soul that you have traded to this devil.”

He drew back his sword to drive it into Gabriel. She knocked it away, pushing him off balance. His sword struck hers. When it wobbled in her hands, she fought to hold onto it. She could not let him beat her as the hill bandit had in the village. Gabriel depended on
her
now.

She saw the horror on Gabriel's face as Vaudrey backed her toward the door, but she jumped out of the room. The baron swore as he followed and realized her shorter weapon gave her an advantage in the narrow passage. She slashed her sword through his sleeve, but he did not drop his sword. It flashed up, the hilt hitting her wrist.

Her sword fell to the floor and skittered toward the open door. She pressed back against the stone wall as he grinned maniacally at her.

“If you wish me to send you to Hell with your lover, Melisande, I shall.” He raised his sword, but paused as his name was shouted.

“Vaudrey, surrender. Your men are defeated, and you fight alone.”

He glanced along the passage. “That is impossible. You are—”

Melisande drove her fist into his stomach. He reeled back into the opposite wall. Hearing a clank, she saw Gabriel kicking her sword toward her. She grabbed it and plunged it into the baron. With a screech, he fell to the floor and did not move.

Gabriel held up his bound hands. She sliced through the ropes and wept as she had not when Geoffrey died. She had avenged his death.

When she was spun into her father's arms, he whispered, “Forgive me, Melisande, for doubting you.”

Shakir rushed up to say, “The baron's men are all captured. We lost two men, but no one within the stronghold.”

She drew back. “Or in the
harim
?”

“I told you that you would be safe there, milady,” he said, not looking directly at her. “Karim Pasa would not allow anything to happen to a woman or child within those walls.”

“You have served me well,” Gabriel said, smiling. “Check the hallways to be certain all are captured and send word to Karim Pasa that there is no reason for fear.”

As Shakir hurried to obey, Melisande looked from the baron's body to Gabriel. Turning, she knelt in front of her father. She held her sword up across two hands. “Witness for me, milord, that I have fulfilled my vow to fight evil in the Holy Land.”

“You have done as you vowed, daughter.” He took the sword and held it across his hands as she had. “You have cleansed this land of the devil's scion.”

Rising, she watched as her father turned to Gabriel. He placed the sword on Gabriel's hands. “I must ask your forgiveness,
shaykh
, as well, for you have proven to be the honorable man my daughter insists you are. My eyes were so blinded by hate that I was a willing tool in the hands of your enemies.”

“It is easier to judge a man by the outward symbols he wears instead of what is truly in his heart.” He took the sword and leaned it against the wall. He extended his arm. The earl hesitated, then grasped it with the grip of a sword-sworn ally.

“My father,” Gabriel said with a chuckle as he released the earl's arm, “taught me a few of the ways of the
Franj
.”

“Did he teach you,” the earl asked as they walked along the passage back toward Gabriel's rooms, “that a man should give his daughter only to a man he respects?”

“Yes.”

“I know she wishes to stay with you.” He brushed Melisande's cheek with his fingers. “I suspect you wish that as well. Otherwise, you would have sent me a request for her ransom.”

Melisande smiled as she was caught in the sweet fires of Gabriel's eyes. Her heart tried to escape from her chest to dance with joy when he said, “I could not send for her ransom when I was her captive from the moment I saw her. I knew I must have her as a part of my life.”

“Then I shall give her to you.”

Gabriel smiled and swung Melisande into his arms. “You have no choice,
az-Zahra
.”

“No choice?”

“When a man offers his most precious one to another man, she must become his
zoga
.” He smiled at her bafflement at the word she had never heard. “His wife. My wife,
az-Zahra
.”

“You wish to marry me?”

“I have wanted to marry you since you first stood up to me and refused to obey my orders. You are beautiful and headstrong and sensual and stubborn, and I love you.”

“But you said we would not marry, that—”

He curved his hands around her face. “I know how precious your vows were to you. How could I hold you here when you had to do as you had vowed? You respected my vows. I could do no less for you. But now I ask you. Be my first wife, my only wife.”

“Your only wife?”

“What need will I have for another wife when I have you,
az-Zahra
?”

She threw her arms around him and answered him with a kiss. As he drew her deeper into his embrace, he opened the doors to his room, and she savored this rapture that would be hers for the rest of her life. She heard the whispers of the wind from the gardens and finally understood their sibilant message. It was of love.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1999 by Jo Ann Ferguson

Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox

ISBN: 978-1-5040-0895-2

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