The Warrior's Princess Prize

by Carol Townend

  ‘My life, did those dogs forget to feed you? I can feel your ribs. You are far too thin.’

  ‘I’m not sure. I don’t remember much after going into the pigeon loft.’ She touched her head. ‘Something hit me. After that most of the journey is a blur.’

  The frown deepened; careful fingers explored her scalp and he turned his head to see for himself.

  ‘It’s all right, Jasim. It’s healed.’ She pressed closer.

  Kiss me again. Please.

  ‘You’ve eaten tonight?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We can’t have you fading away.’ He placed his palm again her cheek, eyes filled with tenderness. His thumb brushed lightly against her lip. ‘Zorahaida.’

  With a sigh he wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her flush against him. Gold-fringed eyes searched hers.

  ‘The journey lasted days and it was a blur? Those fiends must have drugged you.’

  ‘I am sure of it. They drugged me every day. I have no memory of eating, but they forced me to drink.’

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘Do you know what they gave you?’

  She shook her head. ‘All I can tell you is that it tasted utterly vile.’ Hoping to lighten his mood, for she wanted nothing to spoil this reunion, she lifted an eyebrow and smiled. ‘It tasted far worse than the poppy juice I gave you.’

  He gave her a considering look. ‘You tested that out personally, did you?’

  ‘I only tasted it. We consulted one of the palace herbalists, she assured us it wouldn’t harm you.’

  It was hard not to look at his mouth, it was so tempting. He hadn’t kissed her properly yet and he was handling her far too gently. Either he remained angry or he thought her too fragile. Neither possibility was acceptable.

  She slid her fingers into his hair. ‘Jasim, have you forgiven me?’

  Turning his head, he kissed her palm. ‘My life, all anger burned away when you were abducted. Have you forgiven me?’

  She stared. ‘For what?’

  ‘For failing to protect you.’ Hauling her closer, he touched his mouth to hers. ‘Forgive me, my life.’

  His kiss was careful, light and gently searching. It wasn’t enough. Against her belly, she could feel that he was fully aroused, but he was holding back. Zorahaida pressed herself against him and was pleased to hear a smothered moan. She didn’t want him to hold back. Jasim continued to stroke her hair, and he ran his hand down her spine. He was being far too decorous. It was as though he feared she might break.

  Zorahaida wanted more, she needed him to renew his claim on her, as thoroughly as he had done after their marriage. Equally important, she needed to renew her claim on him. They had been strangers when they’d married and making love had been exquisite. What would it be like now, when they had grown to like and respect each other?

  I love you, Jasim.

  She kept the words locked tight in her heart and there they would have to remain, though they burned in her brain. She would never use them. She felt ridiculously shy.

  Love was the most unsettling of emotions. Even now, Zorahaida wasn’t confident she understood it. Her father claimed to have loved her mother the Queen, yet he’d refused to allow her to return to Spain.

  Her father’s behaviour was beyond disturbing. He’d dragged her back from Madinat Runda, he called her his ‘little dove’ and offered her sweetmeats, yet he seemed perfectly happy to confine her in the tower, just as he’d once confined her mother.

  Love was dangerous. Besides, Jasim wouldn’t want to hear. A warrior like him, a successful champion, would have no time for such a messy, confusing emotion.

  She could, however, spend the rest of her days showing him how much she appreciated his determination to keep her. She would enjoy showing him that he had become the centre of her world. She gave him a crooked smile and threw caution to the wind. Shyness was of no use here. That Jasim, a great warrior, had asked her for forgiveness was more than she ever expected.

  ‘Jasim, you did nothing wrong. What happened was my fault, not yours. If I hadn’t disobeyed you by going to the pigeon loft, they would never have caught me.’

  She looked up at him through her eyelashes and slowly, determinedly, slid her hand down. Down over that beautifully sculpted chest, down to his waist. She eased back and went further. Through the fine linen, she folded him in her hand. He was fully aroused.

  ‘Jasim, I need you. It’s been too long.’

  A pained expression crossed his face and he bent to rest his forehead against hers. ‘Believe me, Zorahaida, I need you equally badly. But you are not thinking clearly. This is neither the time, nor the place, we have to get out of here.’

  Setting her at arm’s length, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and released her. His smile held regret.

  ‘Be patient, my love. God willing, we shall soon be home. We will have all our lives to give each other pleasure.’ He cleared his throat and his voice became brisk. ‘In the meantime, you haven’t seen a sling lying about?’

  ‘A sling?’

  ‘To use with the rope. Unless, of course you can climb a rope.’

  ‘I can’t climb a rope!’

  He grinned. ‘Well, you are so resourceful, I couldn’t be sure. Relax, Zorahaida, you don’t have to do any climbing. Your man, Captain Yusuf ibn Safwan has been most helpful. When I explained I intended to help you escape, he arranged for the rope to be put in place.’ He bent to peer under the bed and his voice became muffled. ‘Devil take it, he promised to leave a sling. Where can he have put it?’

  Straightening, Jasim shoved his hand through his hair. ‘It must be somewhere; I’d take my oath the Captain remains your man.’

  A faint chink caught his attention. When he heard it a second time, the hairs rose on the back of his neck.

  He and Zorahaida exchanged glances and went to the window overlooking the palace gardens. She slipped her hand into his.

  The gardens were ablaze with torches and the grounds were bright as noontide. The path to the tower bristled with palace guards. The guards stood in silence, if it weren’t for the occasional clink, they would never have been heard. Helmets gleamed; light bounced off the points of dozens of spears. The quiet was ominous. Eerie.

  Zorahaida’s eyes were hunted. ‘God help us, we’re surrounded.’

  ‘The Sultan’s men must have caught your Captain Yusuf with the sling. Your father knows I’m here.’

  ‘Yusuf wouldn’t betray us!’

  It was a point Jasim wasn’t prepared to argue. As he backed away from the window, pulling Zorahaida with him, logic told him there was little they could do. Notwithstanding, his mind sprang into action.

  There must be a way out, there must be. Regrettably, the sling had been crucial, without it, there was no way to get Zorahaida out of the tower before the Palace Guard broke in. And Jasim wasn’t going to leave without her. They were trapped.

  ‘How many servants do you have here?’

  ‘Only a handful.’

  ‘I assume Sama is one of them?’

  Zorahaida took a shaky breath. ‘Apparently Sama has vanished. The new maidservant told me no one has seen her for a while.’

  With that, Zorahaida manoeuvred Jasim across the chamber to the window facing the ravine. She gestured at the rope hanging over the ledge. ‘Jasim, you must go. Please.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I won’t have your blood on my hands.’

  ‘No.’ Firmly, he laced his fingers with hers. ‘We stay together.’

  ‘Jasim, I don’t think my father will hurt me, but you...?’ She shuddered. ‘Go, I implore you.’

  ‘I won’t lose you again.’ He cupped her face with his palm. ‘Come what may, we face this together.’

  A door banged. Loud voices floated up the stairs. Someone barked a sharp order.

  Jasim gripped Zorahaida’s hand. He was
watching her face as the door opened, praying that this wouldn’t be the last time they would be together.

  Zorahaida let out a gasp and her face transfigured. The change from grim defiance to delight was extraordinary.

  Sama stood under the arch, beaming from ear to ear and she hadn’t come alone. Prince Ghalib was with her, a wry smile on his face. As Jasim’s eyes met those of the Prince, Prince Ghalib inclined his head.

  ‘I wish you good evening, Jasim ibn Ismail. May I enter?’

  Zorahaida darted across and flung her arms about her uncle. ‘Come in, Uncle, please.’ She turned to Sama and, after embracing her too, drew her to one side. The women began talking, nineteen to the dozen.

  Jasim returned Prince Ghalib’s bow, mind working furiously. The Prince’s appearance could only mean one thing. There had been a palace coup. ‘The men outside—I assume they owe allegiance to you rather than the Sultan?’

  ‘They do indeed.’ Triumph gleamed in the Prince’s eyes. ‘And before you ask, my brother the Sultan has no idea you are here.’

  ‘God is good,’ Jasim said as Zorahaida came over. She tucked her hand in his and rested her head against him.

  The Prince glanced fondly at her. ‘I don’t know how much my niece has told you, but your father by marriage is extremely unwell.’

  Jasim raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t discussed Sultan Tariq’s health.’

  The Prince’s eyes danced. ‘You have other matters on your mind, I am sure.’

  Jasim ran his hand around the back of his neck and the Prince gave a bark of laughter.

  ‘I see how it is, and I am happy for my niece.’ Prince Ghalib’s eyes lit on a carafe on a side table. He snapped his fingers and another maidservant materialised as if by magic. ‘Wine, if you please.’

  By the time Jasim and the Prince had finished their wine, Jasim had learned much.

  The Prince was refreshingly candid. He had long been concerned about the balance of Sultan Tariq’s mind and apparently matters had grown worse after Zorahaida and Jasim had married.

  Bouts of ungovernable rage had been followed by periods of appalling melancholy and self-pity. The Prince admitted that the Sultan’s nature had always tended that way, and after Zorahaida left for Madinat Runda, he deteriorated fast. The Sultan had lost his appetite. Daily, the Prince had watched his brother become more irascible and more unreasonable. The Sultan was now so sick, the Prince informed Jasim, that he had taken refuge in a handful of chambers.

  ‘He rarely leaves them, he has become a recluse,’ the Prince concluded.

  Jasim looked thoughtfully at the Prince. ‘So you are, in effect, ruler of Al-Andalus.’

  ‘That is so. All of which means you and my niece are free to return to the west.’ The Prince met Zorahaida’s gaze and his face creased into a smile. ‘You won’t be needing that sling, Niece. You may leave in style through the main gate.’

  ‘If you know about the sling, great Prince, Captain Yusuf ibn Safwan must answer to you.’

  He was met with a quiet, clever smile and a slow nod. ‘Captain Yusuf ibn Safwan and I came to terms shortly after my niece left the palace.’

  Jasim felt a flash of irritation. ‘Then why the devil didn’t he permit me to enter by the main gate? It would have been a lot easier.’

  The Prince smiled easily. ‘The Captain wasn’t confident that everyone in the palace answers to me. I set him right just before coming here.’

  Jasim replaced his cup on the table and found himself remembering the gossip about palace intrigues and secret networks. He nodded in Sama’s direction. ‘Tell me, did you take my wife’s handmaid into your household too?’

  ‘Aye, she appealed for help when the Sultan took against her. She feared for her life. I decided it was best to keep her out of the way until my brother forgot about her.’

  Jasim nodded. Prince Ghalib was, it seemed, a far better man than his brother the Sultan. With him in power, the entire kingdom would be a happier, safer place.

  Movement in the window caught Jasim’s attention. Incredibly, the basket Usayd had shown him earlier slid on to the ledge. A hand followed and then his brother was staring at him, eyes wide and desperate.

  ‘Jasim, for pity’s sake, help. I can’t hold on.’

  In a heartbeat, Jasim was at the window, elbowing the basket aside. He gripped his brother’s arm. ‘I have you.’

  Usayd’s belly was large and it was a struggle getting him through the narrow gap, but Jasim hauled for all he was worth and at length they managed it.

  ‘My thanks, Brother.’ Usayd’s brow was dotted with sweat. He sucked in a lungful of air and gave a self-deprecating grin. ‘How you made it look so easy, I’ve no idea. I’m spent.’

  Jasim shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t have done it, I warned you to stay put.’

  ‘Had to,’ Usayd said simply. He smiled at Zorahaida. ‘You must be my brother’s princess; I am delighted to meet you.’

  Jasim glowered at Usayd. ‘You could have been killed.’

  ‘Brother, I will never make a knight, but I thought you might need help.’ He paused. ‘Besides, you’re not the only one with a mission.’

  Jasim blinked. ‘Oh?’

  With a cough, Prince Ghalib stepped forward. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Princess’s uncle.’

  Usayd bowed deeply. ‘Please forgive my rudeness. I am Usayd ibn Ismail. Blessings be upon you, Prince Ghalib.’

  Prince Ghalib inclined his head. ‘And on you, Usayd ibn Ismail.’

  ‘Great prince, I am at your service.’ Hand on his heart, Usayd gave another bow. ‘It is most fortunate that you are here, for you are the very person I wanted to see.’

  The Prince looked enquiringly at him.

  ‘Great Prince, I came to discover if you are willing to discuss reopening the trade routes to the west.’

  Prince Ghalib’s mouth twitched. ‘You have chosen an unusual approach, Usayd ibn Ismail.’

  Jasim swallowed down a sigh. If Usayd was going to start talking about trade, none of them would get any sleep. He slipped his arm about Zorahaida’s waist. Happily, the Prince noticed.

  ‘Usayd ibn Ismail, my niece and her husband are clearly exhausted. We should pursue our discussions elsewhere.’ The Prince sent Jasim a knowing smile. ‘For now, I and my people will leave you in peace. You are my most honoured guests. Rest assured, you will be free to leave whenever you wish.’

  ‘Thank you, Uncle, thank you,’ Zorahaida murmured.

  The Prince headed to the door. Usayd took up the basket and followed him.

  Jasim frowned thoughtfully. ‘Usayd, what the devil have you got in that basket?’

  Usayd let out a bark of laughter. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ He grinned at Zorahaida. ‘I’ve had it with me since we left Madinat Runda and my brother was fretting about you so much he barely noticed it. I got the idea from you, so I’ll warrant you’ll know what’s inside.’

  Zorahaida gave the basket no more than a glance. Her lips curved. ‘Pigeons, you brought Madinat Runda pigeons to Granada.’

  Usayd returned her smile. ‘I have a feeling they will come in handy.’ He moved to stand with the Prince by the door. ‘When the trade routes are open again, we will need an efficient means of communication between the districts.’

  With a laugh, the Prince beckoned Sama over. ‘Come, Sama, your mistress and her husband wish to rest. Please find my friend Usayd accommodation and see he has everything he needs.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zorahaida and Jasim were alone.

  ‘At last, I have you to myself,’ he said, kissing the back of her hand and pulling her firmly into his arms.

  Zorahaida swallowed. Despite her determination to set her nervousness to one side, her mouth was dry. One would have thought she had never done this before. They were together again
, there was no need for fear.

  Yet she felt hopelessly at sea. Why?

  In the early days of their marriage, she’d hidden behind excitement. What she felt this evening was altogether different. They could take this slowly. Calmly. Was that the problem? Taking it slowly was challenging. It meant revealing more of herself and her emotions than she was comfortable with.

  He might see too much.

  His amber gaze caught hers. She thought she glimpsed a heady mix of desire and hope. ‘Zorahaida?’

  She moistened her lips. ‘I feel...’

  ‘You are exhausted. I will make no claim on you until you are fully rested. We are together again, that is all that matters.’

  She was directed carefully to the bed and encouraged to lie down.

  Candlelight played over Jasim’s red-gold hair. The lamp behind him silhouetted his champion’s body as he kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt.

  Greedily, Zorahaida drank in the sight of him as he tossed his clothes aside. Jasim’s body was magnificent, she was blessed to have him as her husband. His wide shoulders and strong arms were nothing less than perfection. Yet that wasn’t the sum of him, there was more than strength built into those muscled limbs. They answered to a mind which understood more than brute force. When Zorahaida admired Jasim’s body, she was looking at far more than power. She was looking at a man who would protect her with his life. Jasim would never use his body to force himself or his will on her. It was true they sometimes quarrelled, but with them both being so headstrong, perhaps that was inevitable. He was amazingly protective of her needs and wishes. It was an astonishingly attractive quality.

  He must care about her. Did he love her? She ached to know. Jasim hadn’t mentioned love and likely he never would, but his actions in coming back to Granada, in getting a message through to Captain Yusuf and climbing up to her bedchamber all spoke of a man who would guard her with his life.

  Already Jasim treasured her in ways her father would never understand. Her father might claim to think only of her well-being, but all he truly wanted was for her to remain at his beck and call for ever. That had been the case when Zorahaida and her sisters had first been brought to the Alhambra. Nothing had changed.