The Spymaster's Protection (18 page)

As far as Lucien was concerned, there was nothing approaching
treason going on in Galilee. But others, especially Gerard de Ridefort, would
not accept this truth without some demonstration of loyalty from the count.
Raymond needed to mend his bridges with King Guy so that the barons would be
united in their defense of the kingdom and the Grand Master could not split the
region into dangerous political and military factions.

Hopefully, Lord Ibelin would soon be arriving with a
delegation from the king to negotiate a treaty of cooperation and peace with
Raymond. Unfortunately, the alternative might also be true. Gérard de Ridefort
might be arriving to arrest the count for treason. Lucien was depending on Lord
Ibelin to prevent the latter, and Balian was depending on Lucien to talk the
count into the former.

Their conversation on the roof of the watchtower today had
been a good start toward reconciliation, but he was going to need a couple of
more days to get his friend’s full cooperation, then he was very much afraid he
was going to have to travel into Syria. Where that left Gabrielle he was
uncertain. Much would depend on how safe she was her here in Raymond’s garrison
castle, although he was growing increasing reluctant to leave her anywhere.

+++

At supper that evening, Lucien was seated at the table beside
Raymond, enjoying another cup of the count’s excellent wine, when Gabrielle caught
him staring at her. She hadn’t seen him after her return from the souk, but she
noted that he was looking much more at ease, and she concluded his negotiations
with the count had gone well today.

The moment he realized her had been caught staring at her, he
dropped his head in a barely perceptible nod, and Gabrielle returned it with a
quick unsettled smile. The table where they dined was u-shaped, and she was
seated with the ladies at an angle that gave her a good view of the men.

Lucien was once again dressed in full Templar regalia, and
while he looked dazzling in it, she missed the secular clothing he had worn the
past two days. He’d been more approachable in Arab attire. Clothed in the
mantle of a Templar knight, she was clearly reminded of his status as a monk
and that she should have no interest in him whatsoever.

Beside him, Brother Giles wore his black tunic with its red
cross on his chest. He was always a monk to her. Why couldn’t she think of
Brother Lucien in the same light?

Lady Eschiva’s words had been on her mind all afternoon. How
deep was Brother Lucien’s commitment to the Order? He was extraordinarily free
of most of its regulations. She had not seen him live a monastic life, like she
had seen Brother Giles. He frequently showed signs of chafing at the Order’s
rigid rule, and she knew he did not hold much respect for the current Grand
Master.

But she did not want to repay his extraordinary assistance by
tempting him to violate his vows. She was not a temptress, at any rate. She
would not even know how to go about such flirtation. She had never wanted to
attract a man’s attention before. Reynald had taught her to hate all things
physical between a man and a woman, and she had spent years trying to hide from
all the men who came to Kerak or who served there. With her husband’s
dangerously volatile moods, she never knew when he might treat her as he did
his female servants and slaves, offering them to his guests and soldiers,
whether they wanted to be offered or not.

Still, having Lucien de Aubric’s arms around her twice now had
been incredibly thrilling. She had begun to wonder what his lips would feel
like against hers. Reynald, thank God, had not been one to kiss. What was a
kiss of passion between a man and a woman like, she wondered. Would she enjoy
it?

Her gaze shifted to Brother Lucien’s mouth. His upper lip was
hidden by the thick slash of his dark moustache. Would it tickle when he kissed
her? Her eyes fell to his lower lip. It was fully visible above his beard. It
looked remarkably soft and inviting. She wanted to run her fingertips over it,
maybe even her tongue. How would their faces fit together in a kiss? His cheeks
were lean and slightly hollowed. And beneath his closely trimmed beard, she
could tell his jaw was chiseled into hard angles. She longed to see what it
felt like. Would be bristly or soft? The compulsion of her curiosity rode her
hard.

A frisson of heat unfurled inside her, creating a fiery flush
from head to toe. Admonishing herself to look away before someone noticed her
fixation with the Templar, she was not quick enough to do so before Lucien
himself discovered her attention on him.

Their eyes met across the table. His darkened, filling with
the same heat she felt melting her whole body. His expression turned thoughtful.
She could see that whatever Count Raymond was saying to him went completely
unheeded. For a few seconds, they were the only two people in the room. It was
a powerfully intimate moment. It felt as if they were actually touching.
Gabrielle felt her lips tingle and touched them with her fingertips, feeling as
if Brother Lucien had just sent her that kiss she had been fantasizing about.

His oh-so-tempting mouth quirked up at one corner, and the
look in his eyes turned to pure seduction. Gabrielle sucked in a quick breath
as her heart began a rapid beat. Liquid heat surged through her loins,
inflicting a sharp stabbing tingle. Her skin felt as if it was on fire. Unable
to sustain their eye contact, she dropped her gaze to her wine goblet, then
picked it up and emptied it in one long swallow. She wasn’t sure what had just
happened to her, but she guessed she had undergone an unprecedented powerful
jolt of physical desire.

The experience was so new to her, it was completely
unsettling. She wasn’t even sure she knew what it was, only that it had been
overwhelming and astonishingly wonderful.

She was no longer capable of sitting at the table and
conducting a normal conversation with anyone, so she pushed unsteadily to her
feet and gave a quick excuse to the countess. For several moments, she stood,
gripping the edge of the table, waiting for her equilibrium to stabilize.

“Are you feeling all right?” Lady Eschiva asked her, her face
etched with concern.

“I’m fine, simply very tired all of a sudden. I think I will
retire if you don’t mind too much.”

“Not at all, dear. It’s been a long few days for you, I’m
sure.”

Gabrielle smiled and nodded, finally able to step away from
the linen-covered trestle table.

Across from her, all the men had risen when she had. Lucien
watched her closely, then came around the trio of dining tables. “Lady de
Châtillon, let me walk you upstairs. If you are going to retire, I need to
check your room before you enter anyway.”

Gabrielle was taken back. “Is that necessary? Have you a
reason to be so concerned?” After what had just happened between them, she did
not trust herself to be alone with him.

“You went into the city today. You made yourself visible. It
is best to make sure all is well.”

They stepped away from the table and headed across the hall to
the stairway, Gabrielle a step ahead of Lucien.

“I guess I shouldn’t have gone. It was stupid of me to not
consider the danger.” Lord, would there ever come a time when she did not have
to hide from some danger? She suddenly felt like the idiot Reynald had so often
called her.

“It was not so stupid,” Lucien argued gently. “I hear you
enjoyed yourself, and Raymond and I made sure that you were well-protected.
But, indulge me. It will only take a moment to reassure myself.”

Gabrielle climbed the stairs, acutely aware of the Templar
behind her.

At the door to her chamber, he reached around her for the
latch.

Maybe she did it deliberately, maybe she did not, but
Gabrielle turned to him and tipped her head back to look up into his face. They
were so close; it felt like a scandalous invitation on her part. But the
temptation of his mouth was too great a lure. If she’d given it any great
thought, she would have been shocked at her actions.

Yet she could not still her wickedly persistent curiosity about
the feel of his lips on hers. She didn’t make the first move, though. To her
surprise, he did. Cupping her cheek with his long tapered fingers, he whispered
her name and bent his head toward hers. His soft groan melted her insides.

The touch of his lips was whisper soft initially. Gradually,
they slid across her own, from corner to corner, then pressed against hers with
increasing ardor. Her lips moved ever so slightly in a shy, tentative attempt
to learn the contours of his beautiful mobile mouth. She heard another groan
emerge from deep in his throat. She was overjoyed to realize that he wanted
this as much she did.

Her discoveries were marvelously overwhelming. His mustache
did tickle, and his lower lip was indeed as soft and supple as it looked. And something
she had not anticipated— he tasted sweet and fruity, as intoxicating as the
wine they had been drinking. She leaned into his broad chest, just enough to
brace her unsteady limbs. Her legs felt weaker than they had when she had risen
from the table. In response, his arm curved around her back and waist, lightly
enough to let her pull away if she wanted, solidly enough to support her if she
wanted to stay.

And that was exactly what she wanted! She didn’t know anything
about kissing, but when the tip of his tongue edged out to trace the fullness
of her lower lip, she felt like swooning for the first time in her life. Then
his tongue probed the seam of her lips.

Gabrielle did not know exactly how to respond, but instinct
told her he might want her to open her mouth. Was a kiss supposed to evolve?
She hated her ignorance. She did not want to stop kissing him, especially not
when he plunged his tongue fully into her mouth and wrapped her tightly in his
arms. With an unmistakable growl, he slanted his mouth over hers, and for one
incredible moment, he claimed her with a fierce and unmistakable passion.

Then abruptly, it was over.

They stood looking at each other, their breathing heavy and
uneven. Lucien’s dark eyes were glazed with desire, but the expression on his
face was rueful. Gabrielle was at a loss. Heat suffused her own face. Then he
reached around her and opened her door. She stepped aside to let him search the
room. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she took the time to gather her
composure.

Lucien de Aubric’s kiss had been everything she had imagined
and more! It had been wonderful! Amazing! Unbearably arousing!
Completely
forbidden
, she reminded herself at last as she tried mightily to suppress
all her pleasure in it.

“All appears well inside, lady.” He sounded stiff and formal
as he came back into the hallway and held the door open for her. Gabrielle
imagined he was trying to gather his own tattered composure. Surely, he was as
disorientated as she felt.

She stood in the doorway a moment, staring at him, until he
reached for the handle to close it. “Sleep well, Brother Lucien,” she finally
said, knowing she would surely dream of him again.

He gave her a nod and a strained smile, then waited until she
closed and locked the door.

Inside she leaned back against the heavy cedar, feeling waves
of pleasure slither delightfully down her spine. After hearing his departing
footsteps, she crossed the room to light the vigil candle on the small wall
mantle near her big draperied bed.

She was up on the tips of her slipped feet, reaching for the
taper, when she was suddenly grabbed from behind and hauled forcefully back
against a man’s chest. She screamed as she
whirled
away from him. In the darkness, she saw only a dim form. He was dressed all in
black, and his face was partially covered. But she knew immediately it was
another Isma’ili fida’i! She managed one final scream as the unmistakable glint
of steel flashed before her, but it was silenced almost immediately as the
assassin snarled an oath in Arabic and brutally covered her mouth.

She bit down hard on his gloved hand and jammed her heel onto
the soft leather top of his slipper. With another muted curse, he pressed the
point of his blade to her throat. And tightened his grip on her nose and mouth
Barely able to breathe, she struggled to remain conscious as he jerked her chin
up and pressed the long sharp edge of his blade along her arched throat.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Gabrielle waited for the lethal cut
that would end her life. In that last second before death came, she cursed her
husband and the tragedy of her life.

One second lapsed into another, and rather than the sharp
slice of the knife across his skin, she was suddenly freed and tossed aside.
Gasping for breath, she fell to the floor and rolled swiftly to her hands and
knees. Across from her, she saw Lucien de Aubric struggling with the fida’i.
The assassin’s blade glimmered between them, and she smothered a scream as it
came down to disappear between their bodies.

The struggle was over quickly. Lucien’s strength and skill
quickly overcame the black-clad intruder’s. Coming up behind the smaller man,
he curled one arm around the assassin’s shoulders and thrust the man’s own
dagger up and under his ribs, driving it toward his heart.

Gabrielle cried out and swiveled away from the violent scene.
With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she rose onto her knees and rocked back
and forth. This time a fida’i had invaded a well-guarded castle, and the
attempt on her life had been nearly successful. Tears fell down her face as
sobs overcame her.

Breathing heavily, Lucien dropped down beside Gabrielle and
pulled her into his arms. “Oh, God, I am so sorry! This was my fault. The
whoreson had to have been in here when I came in, and yet I missed him. God’s
blood, I am a fool!”

She huddled in his fierce embrace as he rocked with her,
trying to comfort her. “If not for your repeated protection, I would be dead.
Dear God, Lucien, thank you!” she managed to say, her voice clogged with the
tears, her body shivering with lingering terror and shock.