Seducing the Knight

by Gerri Russell

  She straightened. “It was from the first part of the seeress’s words that I determined you were headed for the Holy Land.” She paused and searched his face. “Are you traveling there?”

  “Jerusalem,” he admitted.

  She nodded. “The prophecy continues, ‘Only without sight will you know what is real and bring to the world the hidden seal. Day into night and night into day, a whisper of I Am That I Am will pave the way.’”

  The intensity vibrating in Jessamine’s voice was reflected in her luminous expression. Alan gazed at her, transfixed. She’d come alive when speaking about the prophecy. She was either very passionate about this prophecy, or delusional. “What is it you hope to accomplish by coming with me?” he asked cautiously.

  Her brow rose ever so slightly. “It was my efforts that got us on this boat. Perhaps it is you who are coming with me?”

  He frowned. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Can you speak any other language but English?” she asked.

  “Gaelic,” he said pensively, not liking where this conversation was leading.

  “I can speak English, Castilian, Arabic, and Hebrew. Such skill might be useful in a country filled with Jews, Muslims, and Christians. Don’t you agree, Sir Alan Cathcart?”

  He frowned. “I can’t allow it.”

  “I have no intention of going home, or giving up.” She straightened her shoulders and would have appeared almost regal if it weren’t for her bloodstained and tattered clothes. “You’re going to have to be sensible at some point. I can wait. We have a journey of several days ahead of us.”

  Alan found himself watching her with something close to fascination. High color rose in her cheeks. And he could just make out the rapid throb of her pulse in her delicate temple. He felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch that pulse, to trace his fingers over the silky smoothness that would be her skin.

  He glanced away a heartbeat later. What was wrong with him? For a fraction of an instant he had actually felt a thickening in his groin. He, who had never strayed in thought or deed since taking his vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty to the Templar order.

  At his silence she added, “I can’t be dissuaded.”

  Lord, the lass was stubborn, Alan thought, trying to smother a spark of admiration. He steeled himself. Giving in to her would do no good. “Where I’m going is no place for a woman, especially an unchaperoned one. It would be best to put an end to this journey before my quest becomes too dangerous. Your reputation has already suffered by being here with me in this boat.”

  She offered him a slight smile. “Not as badly as you think.”

  He frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “I told everyone we were married.”

  “You what?”

  She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “My reputation is safe as long as we remain together. Fulfilling the prophecy is my life’s purpose. Perhaps you feel the same about your quest? They are actually the same purpose.” She paused and a momentary doubt flickered in her eyes. “What are we questing for? Why did the prophecy not include such an important detail?”

  A jab of exasperation shot through Alan as well as another emotion he refused to examine too closely. “I don’t care what kind of tales you’ve concocted. My answer is still no, for your safety, my sanity, and a million other reasons. No.” He pushed away from the railing and returned to his pallet, feeling suddenly exhausted and weak.

  As he went he saw the color ebb from her skin, and her solemn eyes widened. He braced himself against a rush of sympathy. This was for the best. Besides, there was no softness left in him. The kind of life he’d led had allowed him to exercise little compassion, only duty.

  As he sat he heard her voice carry on the breeze. “I’ll change your mind.” The words came softly but with a note of confidence. “I’ll find a way to wear you down.”

  Jessamine kept her shoulders straight until the moment he lay down. Her bravado vanished the instant he turned his back on her. Her shoulders slumped, and she drew a long, quavering breath. It was just her luck that the prophecy would lead her to a man who would bluntly refuse her. In fact, the man had been more than eager to rid himself of her unwelcome presence.

  She turned away and gazed back out over the Mediterranean Sea. She had two days to convince the knight to give in to her demands. Dear Heaven, how would she do it? How did one persuade a man to do something he didn’t want to do?

  Jessamine released a heavy sigh, suddenly weary. She would think of something. She had to. If she didn’t go on this quest with the knight, she might soon find herself a victim of the conde’s lecherous desires.

  Chapter Five

  The setting sun hung low on the horizon when Conde Salazar Mendoza appeared in the inn yard of the town of Mijas. Leaving ten armed men outside with the horses, the conde strode through the small wooden door and into the public room. He searched the hazy darkness of the chamber and the throng of men and women seated at long wooden tables for a familiar head of black hair.

  It always annoyed him that Jessamine never wore the traditional Spanish headdress of her mother’s people, preferring her hair loose and uncovered. As he searched the room, rage flared inside him. She wasn’t there. A tall, skinny man skirted him, carrying a tray laden with piping-hot bowls of stew. The conde’s arm snaked out, caught the man’s arm, pulling him to a stop. The tray crashed to the floor.

  “God’s teeth.” The man’s angry cry silenced the chamber.

  Every eye turned toward the doorway. The conde frowned impatiently at the gawking crowd. “I’m looking for someone.” He reached for his belt and the purse of coins he kept there. With his free hand he removed a silver coin and thrust it at the server as compensation for the meals he’d ruined.

  The server seized the coin with his free hand as he tried to shrink out of the conde’s grasp.

  The conde held tight. “There’s more if anyone has information,” he said to the room at large. “The senorita I seek has long dark hair. She may have come into town on horseback with a foreigner, a man dressed in white.” The conde tried to keep the venom from his voice as he continued to scan the room, searching for signs of recognition.

  “Someone must know something?” The conde’s fingers tightened on the server’s arm.

  “Let me go,” the server whined as he tried once again to twist free of the conde’s iron grasp.

  Instead of releasing the server, the conde clenched the man’s skin so hard he drew a sharp cry of pain.

  The conde smiled. When he got his hands on Jessamine, he would take great pleasure in reprimanding her in a similar way. She would writhe in pain when he was through with her. A surge of satisfaction tightened his groin. He’d give her a good lesson on how to treat her husband.

  “I might know something.” A voice interrupted the conde’s pleasant thoughts.

  He scowled as a squat little man pushed back his chair and strode forward. “There was a girl who came into town today. She bartered with some fishermen to take her and the man you described on their boat.”

  “Who were these fishermen?” The conde thrust his fingers into his purse and withdrew three more silver coins. Two he tossed to the man. One he held up for all the room to see. “Who were they?”

  A gray-haired old woman shuffled away from the crowd. “They spoke Hebrew.”

  They were headed for the Holy Land. “You’re certain?” the conde demanded.

  She nodded. “And one thing more.” The old woman shuffled closer. “The girl addressed the man in white as her—”

  “As her what?” His voice was tight.

  “Husband.”

  For a moment, the conde’s heart stopped. The word sank in. Jessamine had refused to marry him, then flung herself at a total stranger? Rage pulsed through his veins. He thrust the server at the old woman, knocking them both to the floor. Further venting his rage, he launched the silver coin at the woman. She yelped as the coin hit her cheek, but scrambled after it a heartb
eat later. If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have been amused by her desperation to keep what she felt she’d earned.

  His anger so hot it was close to pain, the conde left the inn. “To the wharf,” he directed his men. He would have to commandeer a ship that could overtake the fishing vessel Jessamine had hired. He had to find her and take back what was rightfully his.

  The conde mounted, then led his men toward the smattering of boats just beyond the whitewashed inn. He curled his hand into a fist. When he found the bastard who was posing as Jessamine’s husband…The man would be no good even for fish food, when the conde was done with him.

  The next morning, after waking from an exhausted sleep, Jessamine stretched her neck, trying to ease the kinks left by a long, cold night. Mediterranean nights were cool and clear, and Jessamine had spent half of the last one staring up at the stars, wondering what she could do to sway the knight’s opinion.

  The ship was silent except for the gentle slap of the waves against the hull. By the first light of dawn, nothing had come to her. So she’d decided to simply be near him. Her presence seemed to irritate him. And she much preferred to irritate and annoy than to be dismissed.

  She sat at the edge of his pallet and waited. A whistle sounded, signaling the change of watch. The silent seamen who had seen the ship through the night moved belowdecks as others, fresh from sleep, emerged.

  As each man stepped on deck, his gaze turned to her. Interest flared in their eyes. And lust. Her heart leaped. She glanced down at the knight. He was still lost in sleep, and her heart pounded jerkily with a queer sort of panic. No one had ever looked at her in such a way before. Not even the conde.

  The men didn’t take their posts, but stepped closer to her and Alan. Jessamine shivered with uneasiness as her hand slowly moved toward the knight’s sword, which lay near her knees. Nervously, she counted them. Eight bearded men looked at her with lust, insolence, and anticipation.

  Her gaze flew to the water. She could see the faint outline of land in the distance, but the ship was still too far away to hope for help from that quarter. Her fingers touched the sword’s hilt, and she grasped the weapon. “Don’t come any closer,” Jessamine warned. When two of the sailors did, she leaped to her feet and held the lethal sword before her, hoping they didn’t see how her fingers trembled.

  The two men laughed. “We’ve decided your jewels weren’t payment enough for this voyage.” A young sailor with pale, beady eyes edged closer.

  An older man with a hard, square jaw leered at her. “You’ve got other treasures we plan to enjoy.”

  Jessamine’s stomach lurched. How could she have been so foolish to believe she’d be safe with a partially unconscious, injured man?

  The shortest man in the group stepped closer. “This will be the easiest spoils we’ve ever earned.”

  Jessamine clutched the hilt, aiming the sword first at one man, then another. She couldn’t fight them all. She could hardly keep the heavy sword upright.

  In a heartbeat, the knight surged upward from right beside her. He drew a dagger from his boot and jabbed one man in the shoulder while he kicked the second in the kneecap. Both men groaned from their pain and staggered backward, collapsing on the deck.

  He turned back to her, extending his hand. “My sword?” he asked politely as he placed himself between her and their attackers.

  Her heart hammering, she handed him the weapon, then watched him engage the men who’d rushed forward with deadly intent. The sound of steel echoed loudly in the silence of the morning. Alan caught one man with a blow to the back, another with a blow to the head. He didn’t kill them, merely took them down, leaving no doubt that he could do more if the fighting continued.

  The eyes of the men farthest away widened as Alan kicked one sailor in the gut, sending him crashing back into two more. He held another sailor at sword point. “Enough of this insanity. Four men are injured. How many more must follow?”

  The men ceased their movements.

  “The woman paid you for the voyage. Let that payment serve.” His hard gaze passed over each man. “Get back to your posts.”

  With sullen faces, several of the men turned away as ordered. Four other sailors came forward and grasped the arms of the injured men, dragging them to the opposite end of the boat.

  Alan sheathed his weapon. His hands shook and his face was decidedly pale as he turned to her. “Are you unharmed?”

  Jessamine reached for his arm to steady him, but he straightened, pushing her hand from his arm. “They must believe I’m capable of fighting them.”

  She nodded her understanding.

  He moved to the stairs of the forecastle. He gripped the railing with a force that turned his knuckles white. “Are you unharmed?” he repeated as she followed him up.

  “Yes, but I can’t believe I was so foolish as to trust them.”

  “You did what you thought was best.” Alan’s response surprised her.

  “What are we to do now?” she asked, looking nervously at the sailors gathered at the opposite end of the ship.

  He offered her a tight smile as he took the wheel in his hands and turned the boat slightly to the north. “They won’t dare bother us again until we make port. They’re outmatched, and they know it.”

  “You know how to sail?”

  He nodded. “I love the sea. I always have.”

  Jessamine gazed at the knight who’d taken control of the ship. “You seem remarkably well today despite your injuries.”

  This time his smile was genuine, and its impact left her a little breathless. “I told you. I heal quickly.”

  Jessamine fell silent. After a time she brought her gaze back to his. “Has the night also helped to change your mind about my coming with you?”

  Any humor in his face vanished. “These men have proven that you’ll be safer with me than by yourself.” Alan focused his attention on the horizon before them. “You wanted a quest. Looks as though you are part of one now.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you,” she said, filled with relief and gratitude. He would not send her back to Spain…or to the conde.

  His gaze moved to hers, his features rigid and unyielding. “Your coming along doesn’t mean I believe your prophecy. It simply means I wish to protect you.”

  She nodded. She would convince him otherwise in time.

  “I won’t lie to you,” he continued. “The quest before me is not an easy one, but I do promise that while you are with me you’ll be safe.”

  She would finally have a chance to fulfill the purpose of her life. A million questions flooded her thoughts. “Where are we going?”

  “We cannot discuss that now.” This time his gaze moved to the sailors. “Discretion is essential.”

  Jessamine turned toward the land she could now see clearly in the distance. Sparkling waters of the deepest blue led to shimmering silver sand. Beyond, the golden stones of a seaside fort glinted beneath the rays of the morning sun. A bubble of happiness that she had not experienced for a very long time rose inside her. Suddenly she felt entirely at ease. Unafraid. Empowered by her destiny.

  Their quest was about to begin.

  Chapter Six

  The girl wasn’t a fool. He was, for bringing her with him. Alan frowned at the teeming throng of people who surged across the pier where he’d tied the rowboat that had brought him and Jessamine ashore. People drifted through the marketplace. Some were buying merchandise. Others sold their wares. A din of voices mixed with odd religious wails swirled around them. The sounds were nearly as oppressive as the hot desert air. Alan drew a labored breath beneath the heavy weight of his chain mail, feeling as though the heat seared his lungs. The water and wind at sea had masked the heat until now. He drew another breath, then another, until his breathing came easier.

  Jessamine appeared not to be as affected as he was by the heat. She matched his steps as they moved through the crowd.

  Odd scents assailed him a
s he wended his way through the market toward a young boy in the distance who might be able to help them. The sharp tang of unclean bodies mixed with the pungent scent of salt. The odors of dust, smoke, ripening fruit, and dung closed in around him. Alan forced himself to breathe normally as he approached the boy. “Are you for hire?” he asked.

  When the boy gave him a puzzled look, Jessamine asked the same question in what Alan could only assume was Hebrew. The boy nodded with an eager smile.

  “What would you like to ask him?” Jessamine prompted Alan.

  He held out a copper coin. “Ask him to take the boat back out to the ship for the others.” She efficiently took care of the transaction and sent the boy on his way. All the while, Alan couldn’t help frowning. Jessamine had been helpful. He had no doubt she would continue to be so.

  But could he put her in the kind of danger she would experience on this quest? He couldn’t abandon her in a city filled with strangers who would try to abuse her as the sailors had tried to do on the ship. It would be unChristian of him to abandon her now, despite the fact she would slow him down.

  His reasoning seemed logical if he didn’t think too hard—about the way her scent made his heart race, or why the idea of other men looking at her the way the sailors had twisted his gut. He shook off his thoughts as he took her arm and led her deeper into the city of Jaffa. They needed to be away from the docks as quickly as possible, before the sailors aboard the ship could rally others and cause trouble.

  Jessamine remained at his side as they walked through the streets of the fortified city. Jaffa had been at one time a glorious fortress held by the Templars. A momentary pang of regret stalled Alan’s movements. His brothers had walked these same streets. He drew a sharp breath. He was here now to continue what the Templars had been unable to accomplish during their occupation. He would find where they’d hidden the Ark of the Covenant and bring it home.

  Jessamine stopped beside him. An odd eagerness warmed her features. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. Her gaze traveled from the golden bricks of the city to the copper hills of the desert beyond. “Is that where we are going?”