The Spymaster's Protection (26 page)

Lucien was indeed sound asleep, sprawled on his back, in the
center of his bed. He had gone to bed clothed in breeches and a thin unbleached
linen shirt, which at the moment hung loose over his hips and was open wide at
the neck. His arms were flung out beside him, and one leg was bent and angled
toward the edge of the bed. His feet were bare. His dark hair was tousled, and
his ink black lashes rested thickly on his chiseled face. Fine black hairs
dusted his chest where his shirt was unlaced. Though he should have been, he
wasn’t snoring, and Gabrielle laughed silently at that, concluding that he must
be as chivalrous in sleep as he was awake.

His silky thick hair had fallen over his brow, and she ached
to push it back. In truth, she ached to lie down with him. He had been with her
the past two nights, and she had grown accustomed to his nearness. She’d felt
safe and protected in his arms; nothing seemed capable of hurting her when she
was with him. She’d lived in fear and misery for so long, it was heaven to be
treated with such solicitude.

But last night their relationship had ventured past simple
concern and gallantry, and Gabrielle was far from unhappy about the direction
it was going. With Lucien, she had hope that physical intimacy with a man could
be all the minstrels and bards often sang about. The pleasure she had
experienced in his arms promised something new and wonderful. She anticipated
exploring it with him, but not tonight.

Tonight, she would just like to lie beside him and maybe hold
him. He had lost good friends today, and he’d been full of grief, rage, and
bitterness this evening. He truly was a man who felt things deeply. He was eons
removed from her vicious husband.

Having made up her mind, Gabrielle walked to the door that
opened onto the hallway and bolted it. Master de Ridefort had been given a room
off the great hall downstairs. He was too close for Gabrielle’s comfort. She
did not want him walking in on Lucien and have yet another grievance to lie at
his feet.

The pompous old bastard! She would have liked to tell everyone
tonight what a hypocrite he was. She should have!

Dropping her robe over the high footboard at the end of the
bed, Gabrielle slid onto the mattress next to Lucien. He stirred and turned
toward her, but did not awaken. She pressed a feather light kiss to his brow,
then snuggled against him and pulled the blankets over them both.

+++

Lucien awoke at his usual early hour, startled to find
Gabrielle curled up next to him. He was shocked to think he had not heard or
felt her get into bed with him. He was normally a light sleeper and could come
to immediate alertness if he had to. He truly must have been exhausted last
night not to have felt her presence.

But it was not unwelcome. Waking up to her was a great joy. He
stared at her beautiful sleeping face and smiled, glad that she had chosen to
come to him last night. This was where he wanted her, close beside him.

Her hair had come nearly free of her sleeping braid, and it
flowed around her in soft disarray. He could not resist caressing the gold shot
strands. They were so fine and so soft. Wisps curled enchantingly around her
delicately shaped face. One of these days they were going to be able to lie
together without concern for the coming day, but unfortunately not this day.

With de Ridefort threatening to take Gabrielle and him back to
Jerusalem, they needed to be gone from here, and he had a job to do yet. Last
night he had decided that he was going to take Gabrielle with him when he left
today.

With a full heart, he leaned in to place a kiss on her lips.
When she only smiled and snuggled deeper into the covers, he gently shook her
shoulder. “Gabi, wake up.”

“Ummm…. Why?” She peeked at him drowsily through slitted eyes
and frowned, not fully alert. “It’s barely dawn.”

“True, but we need to get up and be on our way.” She was so
pretty in the morning, all soft and sweet and tempting. His willpower to leave
the bed was sorely tested. His mind and body too easily imagined pulling her
against him to explore all her delightful secrets.

Gabrielle reluctantly awoke, stretched, and finally scooted up
onto the pillows. The high, carved headboard at her back was cold against her
bare arms and thinly covered shoulders. She crossed her arms over one another
and shivered.

“Where are we on our way to?” she asked with a yawn as Lucien
swung off the bed and headed toward the chest that held his clothes.

“Eventually Damascus,” he replied as he knelt down on one knee
to search through the chest. With his dark head bent over the carved wooden
container, he pulled out the loose-legged trousers and tunic he had worn
beneath his desert robes on the journey here.

Gabrielle frowned. “That sounds dangerous right now.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “It is, but it is safer
than leaving you here. With de Ridefort threatening to take you back to
Reynald, you would be too vulnerable alone. If he does not try to seize both of
us today, he will surely send men back to take us. Raymond needs to mend his
differences with King Guy. He cannot afford to give you sanctuary against the
king’s men. And with the Brothers of the Hospital in disorder after the death
of their Grand Master, would not be much protection in Jerusalem.”

When he had acquired the last pieces of clothing he needed, he
rose and came back to the bed to lay them all out. “I cannot afford to take you
back there, at any rate. I need to conduct some surveillance in the region,
then meet with my informants in Damascus. The king will need an accurate
assessment of Saladin’s troop build-up and some advance warning about where
they will strike first.”

Gabrielle watched as he pulled his thin linen sleep tunic over
his head and reached for the clean undertunic on the bed. She had to bite her
lower lip to keep from gasping. Every inch of his torso rippled with
hard-earned muscle. His skin was only a shade less dark below his neck. The
well-defined bronze contours of his upper body revealed his magnificent
strength and his dual heritage.

The momentary sight of his naked chest stole her breath. He
had an imposingly sculpted body, though her glimpse of it had been much too
brief. “Surely, you do not need me hindering your work,” she said, scooting to
the center of the bed as he slipped the fresh tunic over his head. “I will only
be in the way, and be useless baggage.” Reynald and her father had often
reminded her of that fact.

Lucien stopped what he was doing and sat down on the edge of
the bed to look at her. “You will not be in the way. Nor will you be useless
baggage,” he assured her with a smile that deepened the grooves at the corners
of his mouth. “I have friends in Damascus who will welcome us into their home.
You speak Arabic as well as a native, and can pass for one as well as I can.”
He lifted one hand and trailed his fingers down her bare arm, from shoulder to
wrist, catching her hand in his when he reached it. “Besides, I have a couple I
want you to meet in Damascus who have agreed to help you place your Muslim
orphans. Dress as a Muslim and leave your Western clothing here.”

She loved the warm strength of his hand over hers. No man had
ever held her hand, except to drag her somewhere. When Lucien did it, it was
with such tenderness. “You want me to travel with you for however long it takes
you to conclude your business?” She truly wanted to go with him, but thought
that there could be harmful consequences afterwards as a result, especially for
him. She was still a married woman, and he was still probably a Templar,
despite his renunciation of his vows.

Lucien stared at her, guessing the reasons for her concern.
“It is an unusual request, I know. But your life continues to be in danger, and
there is no one to properly protect you against your very powerful husband and
Master de Ridefort.”

“Only you,” she told him with quiet conviction.

His face held a hint of embarrassment. “I will continue to
try.”

“You have succeeded very well so far.”

He held her soft, blue-eyed gaze with a longing he could not
hide. “Gabrielle, when this is over….”

She lifted one finger to his lips to silence whatever
premature promise he had been about to make. “You are the best thing that has ever
happened in my life, regardless of what tomorrow brings. I am simply grateful
for all you have done for me, and each day we have together, Lucien de Aubric.”

Within the hour, Lucien and Gabrielle had bundled all the
clothing and supplies they would need into their saddlebags and a couple of
rucksacks. They were in Count Raymond’s stable saddling their horses when the
ex-regent appeared. He walked up to them and smiled sadly. “I am truly sorry
for all the trouble I have caused you, Lucien. If I had not….”

Lucien cinched up the strap on his piebald gelding’s belly,
then turned to his friend.

“You have not caused me any trouble. This was de Ridefort’s
doing. All I ask is that you patch up your differences with the king for the
sake of the kingdom. We must be united when we face Saladin, else all is lost.
Guy needs your wise and experienced counsel. De Ridefort’s and de Châtillon’s
self-serving propositions cannot be all that he hears.”

Raymond nodded in solemn agreement and turned his attention to
Gabrielle. “Lucien will be able to take care of you as I cannot, and I am sorry
for that, lady. Had I not created this mess for myself, I would gladly stand
firm against any who tried to take you from here, even your husband. But Lucien
is correct. I cannot afford to bear arms against the king’s men or the Templars
should they come after you.”

Gabrielle smiled and dipped her head in empathy. “I completely
understand, Count. You and your family have been very generous so far.” She
looked toward Lucien, who had been given all the knightly equipment he needed,
plus a fine Arabian horse from the Lord of Tripoli. “Tell Eschiva thank you and
good-bye. I will return or send for my things later. Be safe, all of you.”

“Go with God, and stand strong, Raymond,” Lucien said as well.
“I will meet up with you and the king’s army when I am finished gathering
intelligence.”

Lucien lifted Gabrielle onto her saddle when she was ready,
then swung up easily onto his own horse. The count grasped his forearm and gave
him a single firm handshake. “God be with you, both of you, my friends. I will
pray for your safe and timely return.”

CHAPTER
13

That first day, Gabrielle and Lucien rode beyond the eastern
edge of Count Raymond’s Latin seigneurie of Galilee. By early afternoon, they
reached a place where Lucien wanted to camp. They had ridden carefully around
the lushly fertile valley of Yarmuk, into the western end of the Yarmuk gorge,
within the Terre de Suethe, where the falls of Al Hamah were located. Luckily,
they had not run across any Saracen soldiers, nevertheless it was a dangerous
area because there were abundant water sources all about, and lots of pasture
for a large enemy encampment. A network of caves were carved into the bluffs,
southeast of Lake Tiberius, and the availability of fresh water made any one of
them a good place to set up a hidden camp from which to conduct reconnaissance
forays over the next few days.

Lucien knew most of them, and he liked the idea that he could
hide Gabrielle and the horses inside of one of them while he went out to scout
the area. He chose one that he had used before and left partially equipped. It
was concealed by a waterfall and dense brush. In addition, a steep escarpment
sloped downward in a scarred rocky slash across the face of the falls.

One had to know that the cave was there, and how to get in.
While enemy troops might water their horses in the pool and stream below the
falls, they would not consider going inside because the cave was difficult to
enter and well concealed. Gabrielle and Lucien had to maneuver their horses
carefully over the surface of the wet slippery rock. Leading the skittish
animals on foot under the water pouring over the bluff above, they got a fairly
good soaking in the process.

When they got past the falls and stepped inside, Gabrielle was
amazed. The initial grotto was long and narrow, but there was a short corridor
that led to another. The ceilings in the front section of the cave were the
equivalent of three or four stories, but appeared to diminish in height the farther
back one went.

Guiding their nervous mounts, Lucien led the way inside
through the high-domed entrance, then back into the lower-ceilinged corridor,
coming to a stop at a crevice in the jagged rock walls. From it, he pulled a
wooden club with a cloth soaked in oil wrapped around one end. With his flint,
he lit the cloth, then held the torch overhead to guide their way deeper into
the cavern.

“You’ve been here before?” Gabrielle asked behind him.

“I have,” he replied succinctly. “I left the torch, if you are
wondering, and a few other supplies. We are quite alone in here. Omar and
Nephrim have watched the cave the past week to make sure it was not being
used.”

“You are very clever, Sir de Aubric,” she laughed, watching
her step in the shadowy golden light as she followed Lucien down the narrow
corridor.

“Not necessarily, mi’lady,” he laughed back. “I simply like to
plan ahead whenever I can. Things go much smoother that way.”

A good quality, she thought as they entered the second grotto.
It was smaller than the first, and the rock ceiling gradually dropped until it
was only a few feet over their heads. Above their heads, there was a hole in
the natural roof. It let in enough light to illuminate the rock room during the
day, and it could serve as a smoke hole.

“If we build a small fire, will the smoke give our location
away?” Gabrielle wondered if she would be able to dry out her soaked clothes.

“We will be fine as long as it is not too big. The bluff above
us is forested and the wind blows strongly up there. It will carry what little
smoke rises before anyone sees it.”