The Spymaster's Protection

by S A Monk

  Once they’d paid the innkeeper for their room, they were shown into a communal dining area that was already serving the evening meal. Food before rest, Gabrielle silently mused, amused by Lucien’s priorities.

  After the meal, which met all the proper Muslim requirements without them having to worry about them, they were led up a stone stairway and shown to a third floor room. Another shorter stairway adjacent to it led to the roof. As the innkeeper opened the door into the room, Gabrielle was surprised to find it was one with a balcony.

  It was extremely pleasant, with a small sitting room and one bedroom off of it.

  It had to have cost Lucien a fair amount of money. She was touched by his consideration yet again for her, for she was sure he would not have sought such expensive accommodations for himself had he been alone.

  “Oh, Lucien, this is lovely, but you mustn’t spend your coin this way just for my convenience,” she exclaimed after the innkeeper departed.

  “It is just for one night. It will not break me, and you deserve to be treated to a few pleasures after spending the last fortnight sleeping on the hard ground. I daresay you haven’t suffered such difficult conditions for awhile.”

  “There are worst things than sleeping on the ground, and it was no hardship with you beside me, Lucien.” She gave him a teasing smile. “Or should I still call you Latif in the privacy of our room?”

  “You may call me anything you like in the privacy of this room,” he teased her as he tugged her into the bedroom. At the large silk tented bed, he pressed her to sit down on the edge. When she did, he lifted her feet and swung her legs onto the thick soft mattress. “But first you must get some rest. Take a nap, for when I return I plan on keeping you awake awhile.”

  Gabrielle looked up at him in alarm. “You are going out?”

  “I need to contact a couple of men in the Christian Quarter. I won’t be long.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “No. There is no need to worry. Rest. You look tired.”

  He looked so at ease, she relaxed and lay back against the feather filled pillows. The instant she did, she sighed with pleasure. She really was tired. A nap would be heaven, especially on this incredibly soft, clean bed.

  “Be careful and return soon,” she murmured as she stared up at him.

  His long head scarf was still tied around his forehead with a black band, and his black mantle covered his white undertunic and trousers. He was so handsome, whatever he chose to dress himself in, she thought as she smiled lovingly up at him.

  He leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, then closed her eyes with gentle fingertips. She was drifting off to sleep before he closed the door to the sitting room, but she held his image in her mind so that she would dream of him while he was gone.

  +++

  By the time Lucien returned to their lodgings, the moon had risen over the city. Inside the third floor room, all was quiet and dark. Through the partially open balcony doors, occasional sounds from the street below could be heard, but it was a quiet neighborhood, and nothing more ominous than the muted voices of people passing by could be discerned.

  Lucien quietly eased his way into the bedroom. The room was unlit, except for a single thick candle burning on a bed stand. The sheer muslin curtains at the iron latticed window billowed softly with the flower scented night breeze. The silk tent canopy over the bed remained tied back to the four tall bedposts.

  Lucien stripped off his cloak and headscarf silently as he stood and watched the sleeping woman before him. She must have awakened while he was gone and bathed because she was lying beneath a sheer muslin drying cloth that was draped completely over her, from shoulders to toes. Sunk deep into the invitingly soft feather-filled mattress, she was lying on her back, one arm flung out beside her unbound hair, wearing nothing but the beautiful golden skin she had been born with. Her deep even breathing and innocent expressionless face told him she was deeply asleep.

  The nearly transparent drying cloth had molded itself to her body’s peaks and hollows as her skin had dried, leaving nothing to the imagination. Despite his exhaustion, Lucien’s manhood stirred to life and heat seared through his body as it responded to Gabrielle’s beautifully enchanting image.

  Needing to wash the dust from his body, he strode to the basin and ewer sitting on a small table near the window. After pouring water into the porcelain bowl, he scooped it onto his bearded face. Gabrielle had left clean water for him, and the thoughtful gesture was an unexpected surprise. The fact that it was still slightly warm told him she had not been asleep long.

  He pulled his white cotton tunic over his head, then picked up the sea sponge floating in the large bowl, squeezed out the excess water and proceeded to cleanse his torso and arms. Tomorrow, they would go the public baths on their way to Farouk Mansur’s house, he thought as he dried himself off and turned back toward the bed.

  At the edge, he stopped to simply gaze at Gabrielle for several long moments. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful! Her mass of dark gold shot curls were arrayed around her face and body like a rich glossy satin mantle.

  He loved touching it, stroking it, and he loved it when she wore it loose like this. He loved it even more when she dragged it across his bare skin, teasing and tantalizing him with its incredible softness and luxuriant thickness. And my God, she always smelled like lemons or gardenias or orange blossoms or some exotic flower! To lose himself in her opulent scent was heaven itself!

  He was definitely through with being a monk and a Templar. He could never bear to let her go. She’d stumbled into his life and changed it forever. From the moment he’d seen her in the desert, holding that toddler in her arms, he’d been lost. She had restored hope to his disillusioned soul and brought laughter back into his life, though now he wondered if he had ever truly laughed before her. He’d begun by wanting to protect her and champion her, and ended up deeply and irrevocably in love with her.

  They had a difficult road ahead of them; many challenges and dangers yet to face, but he prayed daily that God would grant him the ability to overcome all of them to be with her, to marry her, to spend a long and happy life with her. Who knew? They might even be blessed with children someday. He had taken precautions, but when he was inside of her, it was nearly impossible to pull away as quickly as he should. She held him so sweetly, so tightly, so surely.

  As he stared at her and contemplated his deep and tender feelings for her, he could not resist touching her, leaning down to feather light kisses across her face and shoulders.

  +++

  Gabrielle was dreaming about being back at the little warm underground pool she and Lucien had found inside the cavern. Sitting on the ledge of the hot spring, she was immersed to her shoulders, enjoying the water lapping at her breasts, tickling her nipples into taut, hard peaks.

  With her head arched backwards, she dreamed Lucien was beside her, kissing her, his lips moving slowly and sensuously over her shoulders to the hollow above her collarbone, up along her neck, tracing a slow hungry path to her cheek, then her lips. They parted for him, and he covered her mouth completely with his, slipping his tongue between her teeth to taste her.

  She felt his large, calloused hand slide from her ankle to her knee. His long strong fingers caressed the sensitive skin behind her kneecap. Then they were gliding slowly up her leg, leaving a trail of fire from her knee to her hip, creeping inside her thigh, moving ever closer to the burning center of her.

  He continued to kiss her as his other hand moved from her face, over her bare shoulder, down her arm, then up again to cover her breast. His fingers fit themselves to her, cupping the heavy weight of one breast, measuring its size and shape. With a gasp, she felt the rough pad of his thumb rub maddening circles around the ultra-sensitive tip.

  She strained upwards, into the hand at her breast and the one between her legs, driven to near desperation. Coiling her arms around his thick strong neck, she tried to pull him closer. She wanted his weight on top of he
r. She moaned shamelessly, appalled at her wanton behavior, her greedy desires.

  Rich deep male laughter answered her needy whimpers. Her eyes snapped open. Lucien was standing over her. She smiled drowsily at him and murmured his name.

  His eyes were fixed on her lips as they formed his name. His head immediately dipped again to hers as he growled a passionate response and kissed her with unleashed abandon. The hand he had cupped around her breast slid to the flat plane of her smooth belly. His finger traced the indented shape of her navel, outlining the rim with slow concentration.

  The damp muslin sheet was now bunched around her waist. Lucien yanked it away, then lifted his head to feast visually on all her naked beauty. This time his mouth dropped to her breast, and one long finger eased into the dark thatch of curls that covered the luscious folds beneath them. Like always, she was wet and ready for him.

  Lucien groaned aloud.

  Gabrielle shuddered and pulled on him more strongly. “Lucien, please,” she pleaded.

  He accommodated her by crawling over her to kneel between her legs.

  But he was still wearing his loose legged trousers, and she made a tiny sound of frustration as her fingers went to the drawstring at his waist and tugged, then pulled. Finally, he aided her by untying the knot free. Immediately, she pushed his pants off his narrow hips.

  He laughed again, amused by her eagerness. For a woman who had never enjoyed coupling with her husband, she showed remarkable enthusiasm. He was just arrogant enough to believe that it was his patience and skill that had made her this way. Enjoying the result of his instruction, he shivered as she reached for his swollen cock and curled her fingers firmly around it, squeezing and stroking him until he thought he would go mad.

  When he could bear no more without spilling his seed in her delicate hand, he shifted and penetrated her slowly, watching himself as he entered her. Lifting his head, he saw that she was also looking at the place where their bodies joined.

  Her hair was wildly disarrayed around her, tangled beneath her back and shoulders. Her eyes were a shimmering dark blue, slumberous and hot. Her lips were swollen and slightly parted. She licked them as she stared back at him. The tip of her little pink tongue captured his attention fully.

  He leaned over her to kiss her as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her tight sheath, stretching her, grinding his pelvis against hers. The friction was like striking lightning. He called out her name in a husky aroused growl. He could feel her climax beginning, her inner muscles preparing to tighten around his shaft.

  He raised himself up onto his arms and levered himself off of her, maintaining contact only with his hips. He was so hard, he didn’t think he could last long, but he wanted to wait for her, so he swiveled and drove up against her several times.

  Rubbing against her ignited a firestorm within her. She cried out and grabbed his buttocks, digging her nails into his skin like a cat. He reveled in the momentary sting. It told him of her arousal and her passion for him.

  He began moving faster, slamming into her. The thick feather mattress absorbed his surging thrusts. He plunged into her with such urgent need, he prayed he wasn’t hurting her. But he couldn’t stop. He wanted her too much. He gave no thought to pulling out of her as she shattered beneath him, crying out, overtaken by her own need.

  The muscles of her pelvis tightened around him like a fist, sucking everything out of him with an explosion of pleasure so intense, he thought he might actually pass out for a second. The faint light of the candle dimmed as he threw back his head and growled loudly, his teeth and jaw clenched as his engorged cock spilled forth its hot rush of seed within her.

  With a sharp expelling of his breath, he collapsed on top of her, unable to even roll away. Their skin was so hot, he felt they might incinerate at any moment. Despite his violent release, he felt every nuance of her quivering flesh. The sharp little peaks of her breasts poked through his mat of chest hair, pressing against him, making him aware of how extremely sensitive his own flesh seemed to be. He felt completely merged with her.

  Wrapping her tightly in his arms, he finally rolled onto his side with her, refusing to let her ease away from him even the tiniest little bit.

  Gabrielle was content to be held so tightly. The rapture of their joining this time had been even more powerful than usual. She clung to him like a lifeline, unable to speak or to move, her body melded with his. Maybe she could hold him this close and keep him with her always, she thought as she closed her eyes.

  Neither of them spoke. By unstated mutual consent, they fell asleep, intertwined in each other’s arms, their limbs tangled together, sunk deep into the downy soft mattress.

  CHAPTER 16

  The bathhouses were indeed a good source of information about what was happening in the city. The next morning, on their way to Farouk Mansur’s house, they chose two that looked respectable. It had been a sennight since Gabrielle had indulged in more than a sponge bath, and she was looking forward to the luxury of a long hot soaking of her tired muscles.

  While Lucien departed to the men’s public bathhouse, she entered the women’s, across the street. After undressing in the private rooms, she joined the women in the pools in the large central room. Steam wafted all around her as she made her way to one that put her in a position to listen to the score of women enjoying their bath.

  It didn’t take long to decipher their conversations. Most were avidly complaining about the loss of their husbands and sons to the sultan’s call-to-arms. As she soaked in the hot water, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, she listened closely to the places their men had marched off to. She also learned that the garrison and the city were preparing for Saladin’s arrival soon, though no one seemed to know exactly when that would occur. They all agreed, though, that his return would signal the beginning of the war with the despised Christian Franks.

  Gabrielle shuddered to think what they would do to her if they knew she was one of those hated Franks.

  When she rejoined Lucien, they resumed their journey across town. Along the way they shared what each had learned in the bathhouses. Lucien, too, had heard that Saladin was expected soon. The garrison was overflowing with troops from all over the sultan’s caliphate. Those that were not stationed here were moving west, toward encampments north and east of Tiberius. It was becoming increasingly clear that Saladin would not attack the Christian settlements from the south, as originally assumed.

  Their next destination was the home of a middle aged couple whom Lucien had first met when he had lived in Damascus. Farouk Mansur was actually a relative, a distant cousin of Lucien’s mother. Lucien had made the discovery years ago when he’d been working in the city and come looking for a quality sword maker.

  The finest swords in the world were made in the city, from the famed Damascene steal. But only the best sword makers knew the formula. And there were none better than Farouk Mansur.

  Lucien spoke to Gabrielle about all this on their way to the Mansur residence. Once they had gotten acquainted, the two men had discovered that they were distantly related and that their political sentiments were similar. Both wanted a peaceful Palestine where Muslim and Christian could live side-by-side without conflict. It was not a popular sentiment with Christian crusaders, and it was a sacrilegious for a Templar knight to hold. Gabrielle understood it put Lucien on a collision path with his brethren.

  Farouk and his wife, Nahla, were also involved, like Gabrielle, in finding homes for Muslim children displaced by war. Their two-story, white plaster house had been a refuge for many over the years and was only a block from the orphanage. Lucien introduced Gabrielle by her maiden name since her married one was too dangerous to reveal. Most Arabs had heard of the notorious Reynald de Châtillon and knew of the high price on his head, as well as the sultan's great personal animosity toward him.

  Gabrielle was simply presented to the couple as a friend, and she understood that they could not pose as husband and wife here. Unfortunately, as friend
s, they could not share a room or sleep together. She was going to miss making love to him, lying next to him all night. She had grown very accustomed to reaching for him in the middle of the night and feeling his warm body next to hers.

  But Lucien still had much to accomplish in Damascus, and he needed a safe place to leave Gabrielle while he did it. She wasn't sure if the couple knew Lucien was a Templar. It quickly became apparent that their friendship had spanned many years and many visits, but whether the Mansurs knew what Lucien did for the kingdom was unclear to Gabrielle.

  At any rate, they were the couple he had told her could assist her with placing some of her orphans in Muslim homes.

  Typical of Bedouin hospitality, she and Lucien were immediately offered refreshments once they were settled inside. As soon as rooms were assigned, a servant was dispatched to unload their belongings from their donkey.

  "I am surprised to see you using a donkey," Farouk laughed over a cup of strong black coffee. "The last time you visited, you were riding a fine black Arabian."

  Lucien grinned and shrugged. "I am afraid a donkey served our purposes better this time."

  Gabrielle was a quiet observer as she drank her coffee. The sword maker was a man of medium build, strong across his upper body, as befitted a man who worked a smithy all day. His dark head was turbaned, and his clothing was immaculate. Obviously, he had expected them and had not been working at his forge a few blocks away in the arms market.

  His wife was a small slender woman with dark eyes and a kind face. Her gauze headscarf provided a glimpse of black hair that was severely swept back into a braided coil. She sat beside her husband on a striped silk divan that was placed directly across from the matching one Lucien and Gabrielle were seated on.