Templar Prize

by Deanna Ashford

‘Do you want to converse in your language or Arabic?’ he asked her.

  ‘I didn’t think it was conversation you had in mind.’ Judging by his response to her words he wasn’t used to women being this brutally frank with him.

  ‘Edwina.’ He smiled. ‘There is far more to lovemaking than mere sex. Communication is also a part of it. Now answer my question.’

  ‘How could anyone conduct a conversation in such a humiliating position?’ When he didn’t answer but continued to stare at her expectantly, she added, ‘I do not speak Arabic that fluently.’

  ‘Then today it will be French, which pleases me.’ He sat down on the side of the bed. ‘My father held a noble Frankish lord hostage for a couple of years. It was from him I learnt to speak your tongue. He was a clever man, a knight of some standing, and I liked and respected him.’

  He did not have to tell her this and she had no idea why he was doing so. If he wished to put her more at ease all he had to do was untie her. ‘I too am a hostage, am I not?’

  ‘Yet you are no knight,’ he said with a teasing smile, as he ran his fingers through her pale silken locks.

  ‘Yet you could still ransom me. I’ve heard that Salah ad-Din never keeps noblewomen captives: he always frees them with or without payment of a ransom.’

  ‘I may choose to follow Salah ad-Din but he is not my liege lord. I am my own man and I do what I like. And I have chosen to keep you for myself.’

  ‘Will you not at least untie me?’ she pleaded. Now that he was close to her she could smell an exotic spicy odour on his skin that was quite tantalising to her senses.

  ‘Untie you?’ He chuckled. ‘The man who captured you told me you were a wildcat. I hear that you wounded him – cutting him quite deeply.’

  ‘I was only defending myself,’ she argued. ‘I have no weapon now. What harm can I do to a great warrior such as you?’

  ‘A wildcat with a silver tongue.’ He ran his fingers down her cheek. ‘I prefer to keep you tied and that is an end to it. My women do as I command; I allow no dissent.’

  He stood up and slipped off his elaborate robe. Beneath it, to her consternation, he was naked. Foolish woman, what else did you expect? Yet he was, she noticed, a fine figure of a man with the muscular build of a warrior. Unbidden, her eyes slid downwards; his generously sized cock and balls were surrounded by a black ruff of pubic hair. She was tempted to look closer because his penis appeared a little different from Stephen’s, but she wasn’t sure why and she didn’t want to keep staring at him.

  ‘Do I disappoint you?’ He seemed amused by her curious examination.

  ‘That is a question for me to ask you, is it not, my lord?’ There was no point in fighting the inevitable, she knew that now. She was aware that men responded to honeyed words better than resistance, but she had no wish to become like his other servile, obedient concubines. ‘Tell me – do I disappoint you?’

  ‘Jamilah would never have had you brought here if she suspected you might not please me. I have never had a Frankish concubine before. I will be interested to discover how passionate Western women are.’ He ran his hands caressingly over her breasts, then played with her nipples, rolling them between his finger and thumb until they stiffened. He did not repulse her: she found him quite attractive, but she did not want him and that was an end to it, so she felt no desire, just a mute kind of acceptance as he toyed with her breasts. Perhaps if she remained unmoved he would decide he did not want her after all.

  Nasir replaced his fingers with his lips and, as he lashed her nipples with his tongue and then sucked on them tenderly, she at last felt just the faintest flicker of response from her body. Yet she did not want it so she fought to remain unmoved.

  ‘Fear does not nurture desire, does it, Edwina?’ he said softly. ‘Yet I do promise that you have no need to fear me. Your life can be pleasant here and far more comfortable than the battlefield of Acre.’

  Perhaps he sensed that she did not wish to reply. She modestly tried to pull her legs together, until the silken ropes dug deep into the skin of her ankles. Desperation and the fear that this man could eventually make her desire him, forced her to pull even harder against her bonds, as he pressed the palm of his hand against her pubic mound and ran his fingers through the blonde hair that guarded the entrance to her most private parts.

  ‘Please no,’ she couldn’t help saying.

  ‘Don’t fight the inevitable,’ he purred as his fingers gently explored the slit of her sex. ‘Your body is made for pleasure.’

  She could have argued against this and told him that it was hers alone to control and did not belong to him. Nevertheless she sensed that he wouldn’t listen to her. Women were lesser mortals in his eyes. Also she had to admit that she didn’t find his intimate caresses that unpleasant, even if she had no wish for her body to react to them. In an effort to keep her thoughts away from sex, she stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the elaborate carvings and trying to pretend that he wasn’t touching her.

  So far she had succeeded and she knew that she was still dry and not ready for intercourse. However, it appeared that Nasir was equally determined to make her respond to him. He moved to crouch between her legs, leaning so close to her sex that she felt his warm breath brush the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He spread the lips wide with his fingertips so that every part of her secret pink flesh was open and exposed to him.

  Trying to ignore what he was doing to her, she concentrated hard and attempted to count the lacy patterns on the ceiling, yet she still jumped in surprise when she felt something as light as thistledown brush against her most intimate parts. It tantalisingly caressed her clitoris, the most acutely sensitive part of her body. The touch was insubstantial yet highly erotic and whispering fragments of pleasure set her nerves alight.

  ‘Do you like that?’ she heard him say and curiosity made her glance down at him.

  She saw Nasir drawing the tip of a brightly coloured feather over the interior of her sex lips and once again teasingly across her clitoris. Tiny tendrils of desire wriggled their way inside her, and she shivered at the strangely different sensations. ‘Not at all,’ she lied.

  He smiled. ‘Your body betrays you, Edwina,’ he said using the feather again and, as the fronds brushed her sex, she felt the sensations grow and expand like the roots of a strange exotic plant worming its way into every part of her body.

  ‘If you untie me, you can see how passionate I can become,’ she challenged invitingly.

  ‘I do not need to untie you; I have all I need right here.’ He dropped the feather and dipped his fingers into a small pot which had. been left beside the bed. Tenderly, he anointed her sex with the slightly sticky ointment and, as it touched her sensitive inner flesh, she felt an odd tingling sensation, followed by a surge of something far stronger.

  ‘What have you done to me?’

  ‘You Franks are so strange. You think that sex is somehow sinful, yet it is one of mankind’s greatest delights. My only aim is to help you see that it can bring you nothing but bliss.’

  ‘We only equate sex with love.’ She tried to ignore the sudden aching desire to be touched down there again and for his fingertips to continue on their sweet sensual exploration of her body.

  ‘Yet you marry for power and wealth, not love,’ he challenged, seeming only entertained by her reluctance to submit to him.

  By now the strange fire the ointment generated was working its way deep into her sex and up into her groin. She now wanted him desperately; well, her body did, even though her mind resisted such wildly outrageous demands. She struggled to ignore the lust he was arousing in her as he moved astride her hips until his cock and balls were resting warm and heavy on her upper stomach.

  ‘I would like to put my shaft into your mouth, so that your lips can make love to me,’ he said huskily as he leant towards her. The tantalising smell of his spicy-scented skin filled her nostrils.

  ‘Then why not do so?’

  ‘Because you have sharp teet
h.’ He kissed her gently on the lips and she was tempted to open her mouth and let this kiss become more passionate, yet she had a stubbornness inside her that made her continue to resist. Still she could not totally ignore the fact that the ointments he had used were stimulating her senses in a most peculiar way. ‘And I have not enough trust in you as yet.’

  He curved his fingers around the root of his cock and rubbed it briskly. She watched it grow into a rigid rod. Now she knew why it looked so different; there was no ring of extra flesh to protect the tip and the head was already fully exposed.

  Nasir must have suddenly realised what was confusing her because he gently touched the tightly stretched skin on the domed head of his cock with his index finger. ‘It is part of our beliefs. They cut away the excess skin when we are young boys. It increases sensitivity and makes intercourse even more enjoyable for a man.’

  ‘But not a woman,’ she responded as her heart beat faster and she tried to pretend that his warm flesh wasn’t pressed intimately close to her.

  ‘Let us see.’

  He moved, positioning himself between her thighs, and Edwina had never felt more powerless or exposed. Yet the silken bonds were almost invigorating in a perverse way because she had no choice but to submit to his sensual demands and she knew now that he had no intention of harming her. Despite all her determined thoughts to the contrary, this man was fully capable of arousing her senses and making her desire him.

  She had often fantasised about Stephen tying her hands before he made love to her but unfortunately she had never been bold enough to suggest it – apart from that night in the oasis – and now it was too late. Too late for everything she cared about, it seemed. She couldn’t be that many leagues from him but she was in a different world where nothing was the same as it had been before and most likely would never be again.

  Maybe if she hadn’t been so helpless, Nasir wouldn’t have been so aroused, but judging by the size of his cock now, he clearly was. She felt it press demandingly against the mouth of her sex, then with one smooth thrust the shaft was buried deep inside her and his hips bore down on hers. The burning lust the ointment had caused, coupled with the sensation of fullness, made her draw in her breath in surprise. She couldn’t contain her soft sigh as he started to move, thrusting into her hard and fast like a man possessed. The sensations grew more powerful, rising swiftly and strongly inside her. Yet she didn’t want to climax as she was convinced it would be a betrayal of the love she felt for Stephen.

  All of a sudden, Nasir lifted his body a little, taking the pressure off her hips. Yet he thrust even harder, while his hand reached down between them and his finger pressed demandingly against her engorged clit. That, coupled with the stimulation of the ointment, set her senses alight, sending a burning flame through her body, which ignited into an orgasm that swept through her like an all-consuming fire.

  Stephen was not at all sure he was doing the right thing, but what other choice did he have if he wanted to get out of Sarak in one piece? Isabella had originally planned to smuggle him out of the fortress dressed as one of her soldiers. But their helmets left their faces bare and, with his features uncovered, it was likely he would be recognised, and no doubt Bernard would have no compunctions in imprisoning him again. On the other hand, Armand had the parchment from the grand master, assuring him of the Templars’ aid, so even if they did recognise him Armand had the power to prevent them taking him captive again.

  Nevertheless, Stephen did not trust Armand. He was one of those men who oozed charm and sincerity but one could never be sure if he was telling the truth or not. Stephen tightened his hold on his reins, pleased to be at last seated on his warhorse and dressed in his own armour once again. At least his helm concealed most of his features and, like Armand, he wore the deep-blue, gold-crested tabard of the knights of Jerusalem. Now he looked no different from the knight who had accompanied Armand into Sarak. He had been left behind and it had been arranged that he would leave the fortress with Isabella’s forces on the morrow.

  Still he felt uneasy, forced to rely on the one man he neither liked nor trusted. Yet no one challenged them as they rode through the gate and across the drawbridge. Urging their mounts into a faster canter, they rode away from the place Stephen had no wish to ever return to again.

  ‘See, was that not easy?’ Armand looked back at Stephen and smiled. ‘You should have had more confidence in me.’

  Stephen nodded. ‘Remarkably easy.’ He was aware that he had to keep his wits about him from now on.

  ‘The men who escorted me here are camped over the next ridge.’ Armand pointed in the direction as he slowed his mount to a trot.

  ‘I give thanks for your help,’ Stephen said, manoeuvring his horse so that he was riding beside Armand for a moment. ‘However,’ he said ruefully, ‘Princess Isabella changed her mind at the last moment and begged me to accompany her instead of travelling overland. After all that she has done for me I could not in good conscience refuse her request.’ As he wheeled his horse around, he shouted, ‘I’m sorry. I’ll see you back in Acre. May God be with you, Armand.’

  According to Amalric, the narrow track that led down to the small natural harbour lay in a valley to the south west of Sarak. At the end of the valley, close to the shore, some of Isabella’s men would be waiting to take him and his warhorse on board. As he galloped towards it, Stephen thought that Armand would not be altogether surprised by his actions. He had made it very clear to Armand that he found it difficult to trust him. Despite all Armand’s assurances Stephen couldn’t quite believe that he had come all this way just to rescue him. He suspected that Armand had his own secret agenda, which might or might not involve Guy.

  He slowed his mount a little as he reached an area of stone-strewn terrain, not even bothering to glance back to see if Armand was following him. In truth he did not know if he was friend or enemy but if it came to a fight, Stephen knew he was the better and more experienced warrior. Nevertheless he hoped it would not come to that.

  His horse’s hooves raised a swirling cloud of dust as he descended the track into the valley. It was very narrow in places so he slowed his pace to a steady trot. However, when he rounded a sharp bend in the track, he caught sight of a large group of horsemen some distance ahead of him.

  ‘Saracens!’ Stephen pulled his horse to an abrupt halt and turned swiftly, in a skitter of stones and dust, hoping they hadn’t yet spotted him. He was greatly outnumbered and he had only two choices – run or fight. Stephen drew his sword, urging his mount back along the path he had just traversed, knowing he would have to chance going back to Saiak to warn Amalric, otherwise Isabella and her men might walk into a trap.

  He saw Armand approaching him but he was some distance away as yet. ‘Run,’ he yelled, hoping he was in earshot. ‘Saracens close behind me.’

  Armand drew his sword but stupidly continued riding towards Stephen, not away to safety. It was then that Stephen saw another group of Saracens chasing after Armand and he realised why he hadn’t turned back. He glanced anxiously to his right, aware that here the sides of the narrow valley were so steep it would impossible for a mountain goat, let alone a horse, to climb. They had no choice but to stand their ground and fight. He looked back to see the other Saracens coming up behind him quite fast.

  As Armand drew almost abreast of him, now also brandishing a sword, Stephen shouted, ‘We have to fight, there’s no retreat.’

  Armand gave a loud unintelligible yell and astonishingly rode straight at him, slashing his blade downwards, and just missing Stephen’s mailed fist. There was a loud scraping sound as blade skittered down blade. ‘Damn you, fool! The Saracens, not me!’ Stephen yelled angrily.

  Armand just wheeled his horse around and attacked Stephen again. ‘Put down your weapon,’ he screamed as he slashed wildly at Stephen.

  Stephen was the stronger man and easily parried the blow. Enraged by Armand’s stupidity, he slammed the heavy hilt of his sword down hard on the young man’s
hand, forcing him to loosen his hold on his weapon. As it fell to the ground, Stephen shouted in fury, ‘God’s blood, Armand. What are you playing at?’

  In response, Armand turned and galloped straight towards the advancing Saracens, who had now slowed their mounts to a steady walk. Stephen was surrounded, totally outnumbered. There was no way to escape a fight and he thought Armand had lost his mind completely until he saw the Saracens part to allow him through. Then, to his consternation, Armand turned and joined the enemy.

  Stephen felt adrenaline-fuelled battle lust fill his veins as he swore under his breath, vowing to kill as many of them as possible, starting with the traitor Armand. He tightened his hold on his broadsword, holding his horse in check, waiting for just the right moment to launch his suicide attack.

  Armand raised his hand. ‘Surrender, Stephen,’ he yelled, his voice echoing eerily around the valley. ‘I have no wish to harm you.’

  ‘Harm me,’ Stephen snorted in disgust, furious that he’d trusted this Saracen spy. ‘I’ll fight and die rather than surrender.’

  ‘You will not.’ Armand nodded to his companions and a number of them raised their bows and pointed their arrows at Stephen. ‘I do not lie. They have orders to take you alive, so my men will just shoot your horse from under you. I assure you there is no way you will escape.’

  Still swearing angrily under his breath and heaping a multitude of curses down on Armand’s head, Stephen reluctantly threw down his sword.

  Edwina, now dressed a little more demurely in a long pink silk undergown and a short elaborately embroidered tunic, walked into Nasir’s chambers. These rooms had become very familiar to her over the last few days as he never seemed to tire of her company.

  To those around her she appeared to have accepted her fate, although deep inside she still railed against it. Nasir had released her from her bonds as soon as he had taken her for the first time and surprisingly she had not been bundled back to the harem, but had remained with him all night. As he had slumbered beside her, she had reluctantly been forced to admit to herself that she had not disliked having sex with Nasir, and when he had taken her again in the morning she had relaxed and enjoyed the experience. Although sex it was; she could never consider it lovemaking, because she didn’t care for him as she did Stephen.