by S A Monk
Armand Chaumont went rigid with anger. “You will do as I say, daughter! I am your father, and you will listen to me!”
“You are my father in nothing but name,” she rebutted contemptuously. “I will remain here, in Jerusalem.”
Lucien tucked her more securely behind him as Reynald stepped toward her again. “With what and where, dear wife?” he taunted sarcastically, inches from the Templar’s face. “This is my house, and I have let you live here by my grace alone.”
“You have no grace,” Gabrielle sneered boldly, briefly placing her hand on Lucien de Aubric’s muscular shoulder.
“Nevertheless, you and all your heathen servants will vacate this residence immediately. There will be no money forthcoming, either. I offer you only the choice of coming to Kerak with me or being thrown onto the streets like a common whore.”
“I do not need your money any longer,” she declared, enjoying the surprise that crossed the faces of her father and husband. “Mother left me things you never knew about, father. Things she hid from you, for me. It will be enough to seek another residence.”
Reynald considered that for a moment, then challenged. “You will not be allowed to defy me. A wife must obey her husband.”
“Not when he threatens her life,” Lucien interceded with uncompromising resolve. “I found one of your guards, Reynald. He lived just long enough to implicate you in the attempt on your wife’s life. Actually, he identified Lady Silvia as the person who actually hired last night’s assailant. Unfortunately, the king did not get to hear your guardsman’s dying testimony, but the patriarch did. He has given Lady Gabrielle the right to seek sanctuary at the Hospitaller commandery. She may stay at the convent there and continue to work at the orphanage. I will remain here until she and her staff have packed all their belongings. You and Armand will leave…now, I think.”
“You bastard!” Reynald hissed, glaring murderously at him. “You will not get away with setting her up in some kind of sanctuary for wayward wives. Nor will this be the last time you and I meet over this.”
“I’m counting on that,” Lucien responded, his dark face as unrelenting as his implied promise. Amazingly his clenched fists were the only visible indication of his anger.
“It is high time de Ridefort curb your damnable independence.”
Lucien laughed. “He can only try.”
Reynald glared at his errant wife. “I am not done with you yet, either, woman.”
The insolent humor vanished from Lucien’s dark countenance. “You are done with her, Reynald!” he growled, crowding him into the doorway. “Leave while you still can.”
To Gabrielle’s surprise, Reynald only laughed. “By the Rood, you are an outrageous bastard, de Aubric!”
“So I am,” he snarled, a black smile curling one corner of his mouth.
Gabrielle’s husband, then her father backed out of her room, onto the landing. Without looking back both men headed down the stairway.
From the railing, Lucien watched the two exit through the big oak front door downstairs. When they were gone, he turned to Gabrielle, Hazir, and his daughter, Sadhira, who were all standing behind to him. “Thank you, for sending for me, Hazir. I only wish I could have gotten here a little sooner,” he added as he looked from the Muslim to Gabrielle.
Her cheek was red and she was holding her upper arm, unsuccessfully hiding the tremors that shook her slender frame. “Sadhira, do you have rosemary oil in the house and a cloth with a basin of cool water. Maybe a flask of wine, as well.”
“I will gather them for you,” the olive skinned woman said with a smile to her mistress. “Father, aid me, please.”
Hazir looked to the Templar. “Brother Lucien, you have done my friend a great favor today,” he said with a fond look toward Gabrielle. “I have known this courageous woman many years, and this is the first time she has had a real chance to be free of Reynald de Châtillon. Thank you.”
“Aye, frère, thank you.” Gabrielle echoed Hazir’s words. Suddenly feeling the full impact of the morning’s events, she swayed a little, feeling disturbingly dizzy in the aftermath of her confrontation with Reynald.
“Mi’lady, go sit down before you fall down,” Lucien directed with a nod in the direction of her room. When she did, he followed her inside. Once she was seated in a chair by her window, he took her wrist, lifted the arm she was holding, and raised the long loose sleeve of her robe. Above her elbow, her skin was purpling with ugly bruise marks that matched a man’s hand print.
Against her soft, golden, unblemished skin, the evidence of Reynald’s brutality sent fresh waves of rage through Lucien. This woman was so fine; the bastard should be castrated for treating her with such violence. And her father merited the same punishment for delivering her into the hands of such a man, then standing aside while the whoreson brutalized her. He recalled what she had said about Armand being responsible for her mother’s death, but he did not want to bring it up now. She had endured enough emotional battering.
When Sadhira returned with the rosemary oil, she handed it to Lucien then left again for the basin of water and the wine. Lucien poured some of the scented oil into his palms, rubbed them together to warm it, them smoothed it over Gabrielle’s skin.
Growing calmer and more relaxed with each soothing stroke of his long brown fingers, Gabrielle sighed and closed her eyes. No man had ever shown her such gentle care; such tenderness. She was already awestruck by what he had done for her and how he had stood up to Reynald and her father. When she opened her eyes and stared up at him, she couldn’t hide the candid admiration in them.
“Did you really find one of the guards?”
He smiled down at her as he continued to gently massage her arm, from wrist to shoulder. “I did.”
“And the patriarch? Was he truly with you?”
“I summoned him because I needed him in particular. He heard the guard’s final words against Lady Silvia, and afterwards, he agreed to allow you to seek sanctuary at the Hospital.”
“That was your suggestion?” she asked in breathless amazement.
“You needed protection from Reynald, quickly. I may have disposed of one assassin, but there will undoubtedly be others. If indeed they are fida’i, as I suspect, they will continue until successful or the contract is withdrawn, ” he warned her gravely, not wanting to lie to her. “Because of Reynald’s close association with the Grand Master, you would not have been safe at the Temple convent. De Ridefort would never have allowed you sanctuary. Brother Giles knows all of this, and has assured me you will be accepted and protected at their headquarters. I am still uneasy, though. Your husband is a resourceful man, and many are afraid of him.”
In spite of the horror at knowing the dreaded fida’i were after her, Gabrielle smiled at him, knowing she should not embarrass him with her adoration, but unable to quell it. “You are not.”
Lucien shook his head. “Unfortunately, I cannot be with you all the time.”
Gabrielle wondered at his choice of words. Unfortunately? My, but that was something to ponder on later!
“I did not say this in front of your husband,” he continued, finally releasing her wrist. “But the patriarch is willing to give you an annulment, if you wish it. I believe it will be the best way to ensure your safety. If you give Reynald what he wants, he will have no reason to be rid of you by other means.”
“But the patriarch has never wanted to grant Reynald an annulment.”
“True, but he will seek one for you, especially now that he knows your life is in danger.”
“He believed that Reynald tried to have me murdered?”
“Nay. He believed Lady Silvia did. He is afraid to accuse Reynald of anything,” Lucien told her in disgust. “The man cannot afford Reynald’s political disfavor. He has too much influence with the king.”
“Will Lady Silvia be charged or brought before the magistrate?”
“Not likely. She has Reynald’s protection.”
Another smile ho
vered on Gabrielle’s lips. “And I have yours,” she murmured. “’Tis I who have the better bargain, I think, Brother Lucien.”
God help him! Whenever she spoke his name, he couldn’t take his eyes from her lips. One of these days, he would dearly love to kiss those lips as she said his name! And if she didn’t stop looking at him with those big blue eyes so full of wonder and appreciation, he was going to be forced to leave the room. As it was, he shifted position to hide his very physical reaction to her.
“I am sorry you have to leave your home, lady,” he said as he took a step back from her.
Gabrielle shrugged. “It is probably for the best. Now Reynald will have no hold over me. I do regret being unable to continue to employ Hazir and Sadhira, though. They have become family to me.”
Lucien nodded as Hazir and his daughter came into the room with the flask of wine, two goblets, and a basin of cool water. “Do not worry about us, mistress,” Hazir commented. “Sadhira and I will simply move back home. And do not fret that we will abandon you. We will keep a close eye on you. I have ample family to watch over you and keep Brother Lucien informed of your continued safety.”
Tears glittered in Gabrielle’s eyes as she rose out of her chair and went to her old friend to embrace him in a fond hug that lasted for several long moments and a lot of suspicious sniffling.
When she stepped away from the old man, Lucien handed her a goblet of wine, then poured some for himself. “To your freedom and safety, mi’lady,” he said with a lift of his cup.
“And to your brave support, frère,” she replied, lifting her cup in turn. There was so much more she would have liked to say to him. They stared at each other in mute contemplation until the silence became uncomfortable, then Lucien drained his wine and smiled.
“I will await you downstairs. There is no hurry. Pack all that you need and want. I will have Hazir arrange for a small wagon, then I will take you to the Hospital.”
Gabrielle nodded, too overwhelmed by the man in front of her to trust herself to say anything more. What she felt for him at the moment was much too intense and intimate to put into words anyway. And since he was still very much a monk, it probably should never be said.
CHAPTER 7
Gabrielle sighed as she sank tiredly onto the straw-filled pallet atop her bunk. The room she had been given at the convent of Saint Mary was little more than a cell. The nuns that resided here lived as simply and austerely as the monks of Saint John. There were no amenities. Her room reflected that. It was furnished for utilitarian purposes, with a single bunk, a chest for clothes, a chair and table for writing, and a small brazier for cold nights. Her only luxuries were her feather filled pillow, linen sheets, and quilted silk counterpane that Hazir had insisted she take.
She had given up much when she had accepted the sanctuary of the Hospitallers. Except for her clothes, her mother’s things, her bible, and a few other precious books, she had taken nothing from Reynald’s house. But the things she’d left behind were material things; luxuries that she could learn to do without, especially if giving them up brought her safety, peace of mind, and freedom from Reynald. She would be a liar, though, if she did not admit she missed some of her previous comforts. Still, none of them had ever compensated for the misery of living with her father and her husband.
Dear Lord, how she wanted to be legally free of Reynald! It had been a sennight since she had last seen him. He had come to the commandery, demanding to see her. No doubt he had wanted to test the church protection of sanctuary she hid behind. Brother Giles had stood beside her, along with a Hospitaller priest and several sergeants, when she had granted Reynald a brief meeting. Reynald had clearly seen that it would take an armed fight to get her out of the complex.
Gabrielle was exceedingly grateful for the staunch support that the brothers of the Hospital had given her. Brother Giles had also told her that Brother Lucien could be sent for, if needed. But his presence had not yet been needed. Reynald had tested the strength of her protection, and left after much grumbling and posturing. He and the Hospitallers had never gotten along, at any rate. They were not as fanatically war-minded as the Templars. Nor were they of a similar political mind.
Since then Gabrielle had not heard from Reynald, though her father had come by a few nights later to plead Reynald’s case once more. Again he had proposed that she go with him to Montreal. He had tried to sympathize with her about Silvia, telling her that he understood her humiliation and anger over being in the same abode as Reynald’s mistress.
Gabrielle knew her perfidious father too well to be taken in by his false concern. He may wish her to remain married to Reynald, but only because it benefited him. In all her years with Reynald, her father had never once aided her against his brutality or depravity. When he had seen her bruised and in pain after one of Reynald’s assaults, he had never lifted a hand to protect her or even to comfort her. She meant nothing to him, just as her mother had meant nothing to him. Though Gabrielle held no love for her father, it grieved her to think he would condone and maybe even participate in her murder. But what did she matter to either of them anymore? Reynald had his land, a base from which to rebuild his power and expand his wealth. Armand had renewed his alliance with his old comrade-in-arms, and become rich from all their raiding. Only she had suffered by the arrangement.
She shuddered to think what it would happen to her if she returned to Kerak or Montreal. She’d be mocked, threatened, and whipped or beaten for the slightest offense, the slightest demonstration of defiance. And inside either fortress, she would be easy prey. No one would come to her aid, not even Silvia, who had probably joined Reynald in plotting her death. Certainly, Brother Lucien would be unable to protect her there. Both fortresses were virtually impregnable. And Reynald would never allow him admittance.
In the seven years she had lived under Reynald’s cruel, vicious thumb, he had nearly destroyed her— mind, body and soul! If not for Brother Lucien’s intervention, she’d be on her way back to Kerak now. God forgive her! She would take her own life, like her mother may have, before returning to that horror again!
But her life might be forfeit anyway if a fida’i had truly been hired to murder her. They called the leader of the Syrian Assassin sect the Old Man of the Mountain because of his isolated mountain fortress to the north. Their reputation in Outremer was legendary. They struck terror into all, Christian and Muslim alike, for their fanatical beliefs and their radical tactics. Very important men on both sides had been murdered by them. It was reputed that even Saladin had been targeted by them. Unless a contract was called back, they were relentless in pursuit of their victim. If not for Lucien de Aubric, she would have died, alone and forsaken, on that dark street a fortnight ago. The attack had been haunting her dreams ever since.
Chilled by that dark thought, Gabrielle turned her mind to the man who had so recently come into her life. She had not seen Brother Lucien since he had arranged for her protection here. Brother Giles told her he had been in and out of Jerusalem the past few weeks. War was brewing again, and he was busy.
Gabrielle had learned what he did for the Knights Templar. From the beginning, she had thought he moved with extraordinary freedom for a Templar. Now she knew why. As Chief of Intelligence for the Order, he had to be free to come and go when and where he needed.
The fact that he was taking time from his duties during this time of crisis in the kingdom in order to help her astonished her. Gabrielle was a stranger to that kind of personal consideration. And, despite his duties, she knew he had been monitoring her continued safety and been in regular contact with the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Archbishop Heraclius.
The archbishop had been to see her twice. Within a day after she had arrived at the convent, he had come to demonstrate his support of her sanctuary and to question her about the annulment. Reynald had badgered him for years for one, but Heraclius had never approved or initiated one for him.
But upon hearing that Lady Silvia had attempted to have her
killed, Heraclius had decided there was a more legitimate and urgent reason. Gabrielle thought the archbishop had undergone a change of heart primarily due to Lucien de Aubric’s intervention, although the patriarch had told her the queen was now actively supporting her request for an annulment.
Reynald’s outrageous conduct militarily, politically, and personally had always angered the queen. And she hated his influence over her husband. The fact that her own parent’s annulment had made her and her brother technically illegitimate didn’t turn her against Gabrielle seeking such an end to her marriage. Annulments were frequently politically motivated by the nobility, and it was the only release from marriage the church allowed.
As long as Reynald had left Gabrielle alone, she had never wanted to give him the satisfaction of agreeing to one. It seemed a fitting bit of revenge to thwart his plans to marry Silvia and gain her inheritance. But if getting the dissolution of their marriage would protect her life and free her completely from Reynald once and for all, she would cast aside her unholy desire for retribution.
And it was what Lucien de Aubric wanted for her. He had gone to a great deal of trouble to ensure her freedom and her safety. He had become her champion when he could have simply walked away from her complicated, lamentable life. He probably should have, for Gabrielle was certain his involvement with her would only bring him trouble, despite the fact that everyone, from Hazir to Brother Giles, had told her that Lucien was the best thing to happen to her.
And he was a man like no other.
Thinking of him always filled her with such pleasure. While he might appear dark and dangerous to others, to her, he was disarmingly handsome and remarkably empathetic. He treated her with respect, care, and concern, all things she had never experienced from a man.
Like she’d done a dozen of times in the past fortnight, she closed her eyes and recalled how wonderful it had felt to be held in his arms, surrounded by his strength the night of her attack. Reynald had repulsed to a man’s attention, and it was a surprise to her that she had felt none of the repulsion she had expected in Lucien de Aubric’s arms. Not only had she tolerated it, she’d reveled in it and wished for more.