He slid his fingers to the left until he felt the warmth of her body. To his surprise, her fingers tightened around his own. She hadn’t been asleep. She must have felt it too, the odd tension in the air.
At the snap of a branch, Alan tightened his fingers around hers, then released them. Their eyes met in the darkness. He could see fear in her expression. He prayed she could see the silent warning in his. “Whatever happens, stay behind me,” he whispered in an almost imperceptible tone.
She nodded. Together they stood. With a tip of his head, he signaled toward the horse. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as the awareness of others pressed in upon him once more. Robbers? An ambush? The Moors’ attack still lingered fresh in his mind as grief clawed at his senses. He’d abandoned his Templar brothers.
The breath caught in his chest as pain swamped him, weighed him down. He staggered to one side. He’d failed to keep them safe. Images of their torn and bleeding bodies battered at the closed door of his mind, slipping through the cracks, drawing strength from his remorse. The pain of grief flashed through him with blinding force. His sword was too heavy.
Then the warmth of Jessamine’s hand curled around his elbow, her grip strong and supportive. He clung to the sensation, allowed it to ease the pain in his soul. His breathing slowed, his strength returned. The darkness of the night seemed to ease as pale moonlight spilled across the desert sand at their feet.
That hell lay behind him. Jessamine was here with him now. No harm would come to her. Not while he could do something to prevent it. Alan concentrated on the sounds of the night, the soft shuffle of feet coming from the west. One man, two, three. They approached slowly, like snakes ready to strike.
Alan tightened his grip on his sword. He was ready.
A flicker of movement came on the left. Farther back on the right a streak of black appeared.
A flash of light illuminated the area as one of the men lit a torch. Three men dressed in dark clothing approached. Each held a hooked sword in his hand. Alan’s heart thudded. He forced his breathing to slow, centered his thoughts, allowed the men to come closer, step by step.
Jessamine remained silent, but her body tensed, waiting.
For a brief moment he considered fighting them, then banished the thought. Three men to one. He couldn’t endanger Jessamine that way, not when they could reach the horse and escape. Alan waited until the invaders massed together as the rocks narrowed. The closer they were to each other, the harder it would be for them to maneuver. Two more steps and Alan darted backward, taking Jessamine with him.
He reached the horse and tossed her onto the animal’s back. As he joined her, the horse surged forward, understanding Alan’s unspoken command. The two lurched into the darkness, away from the men who closed in on them.
Angry shouts filled the night air. The men raced forward, but they were too late. Alan guided the horse around a rock outcropping. A man’s shape separated itself from the dark mass. He leaped from the rock, toward them. Alan managed to maneuver the horse away before the man could pull either him or Jessamine to the ground.
“Hold tight to the horse’s mane,” Alan warned Jessamine as he kicked the horse into a gallop. They flew across the sand, illuminated only by a pale silver light. Shadows cast by rocks or brush or possible brigands appeared at every turn. Alan tensed as they passed each one, fearing more attackers. Another rock outcropping appeared ahead. He gave it a wide berth as they sailed by.
Another man leaped out at them. He stepped toward the horse but didn’t attack. Instead, the man raised a tube-shaped object to his lips.
Jessamine gasped. Her hand moved to her neck a moment before she collapsed against the horse.
“Jessamine.” Alan searched the darkness ahead and headed the horse farther into the desert, away from the attackers. He clung to Jessamine’s body as she sagged against the animal. Had they used poison? If that was the case, she needed immediate help. But he couldn’t stop now. “I’m here with you,” he said, more for his own comfort than hers. He had to put some distance between them and their attackers.
She lay so still, her weight tugging against his arm. Even in the hazy darkness he could see a protrusion at the side of her neck and feel the trickle of blood that slid down her skin and onto his. They’d hit her with some sort of blow dart.
Alan maneuvered the horse back toward the rocks. He had to find a cave. The Judean wilderness was riddled with them. “Hold on, Jessamine.”
It didn’t take long to find a cave that looked deep enough to hide the two of them along with the horse. He circled the area several times, laying down several sets of tracks. It would do no good to enter the cave to treat Jessamine’s wounds if it became a trap for them both. When he was certain no one would be able to follow his trail, he headed back for the cave.
Once they were shielded by the darkness, Alan dismounted with Jessamine cradled in his arms. As he set her down, her head lolled back. Silver light from the moon illuminated the cave, and he could see her skin was a pale, deathly white.
He quickly grasped the edge of the dart that protruded from her neck and yanked it out. She flinched. In the next heartbeat he flicked the dart against the tip of his tongue. Snake venom mixed with something else he couldn’t identify—some other poison that had robbed her of consciousness.
He knew what he must do. He drew his sword and set it on the ground beside him, then withdrew his dagger from his boot. With a steady hand, he traced the tiny puncture wound in her neck with the edge of the blade, drawing a rivulet of blood. Setting his dagger on the ground beside her head, he brought his lips to the new incision and sucked the poison from the wound. As his mouth filled, he spat the blood onto the ground and repeated the process. Over and over he drew the venomous blood from her system until the bleeding slowed.
Carefully he set her head down on the sand, then stood. He moved to the horse and removed a bladder of water from the saddlebag along with a smaller bag containing crystallized honey before he returned to her side. He cleansed the wound with water, then wiped it dry before applying a poultice of honey. He’d learned on the battlefield that honey helped to draw putrefaction from the body. Perhaps it would have the same effect on poison.
When he was through, he wrapped a clean strip of linen loosely about her neck, then sat upon the ground and positioned Jessamine’s head in the crook of his legs, cradling her gently. He’d done all he could for her. Now time would be either his friend or enemy.
At that thought a cold chill invaded his chest. He didn’t know the woman he held in his arms, not really. Yet the thought of losing her brought a wave of deep regret. He tried to shrug it away, but the feeling of hopelessness he’d tried so hard to control over the past few days simmered below the surface, waiting to erupt. He had to stay in control. Jessamine needed him.
He wiped his forehead, feeling the grit of sand roll beneath his hand. Lord, he was tired. So very tired. And so damned hot.
Alan shook off his exhaustion and returned his attention to the woman in his lap. He carefully tied a length of fresh linen around her neck, protecting her wound. It was his fault she had been injured. If he’d left her back at the port where they’d disembarked, she wouldn’t be in this position now.
Or she could have been in an even worse situation, abused by the sailors, or the conde. He took slight comfort in that thought as he studied her in the half-light. A dark swath of her hair had fallen across her cheek. He gently brushed it back to tuck it behind her ear, and jerked his fingers away.
Alan clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to gather her tightly against him and keep her safe. He balled his fists, resisting the urge. Lord, what was wrong with him? He’d never had this kind of reaction to a woman before.
He stared off into the darkness. His emotions had been veering from one wild extreme to another since leaving Teba behind. But losing control now wouldn’t help. He took a deep breath and unfurled his fingers. He had to think about the present, not the past.
> “Jessamine?”
No response. He swallowed, tucking his pain further inside himself and concentrating on the night. He heard the soft, whispered rush of wind blowing against the mouth of the cave. He longed to turn his face into that wind to find some relief from the heat, but he couldn’t risk it. The enemy could be anywhere. He pulled the hilt of his sword closer to his side.
“Alan?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the very fact that she had survived the poison brought a warm glow to the center of his chest.
He touched her cheek. “Jessamine, can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open. She turned toward his voice.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Her dark, compelling eyes searched his face. “What happened?”
“You took a blow dart in the neck that was laced with poison.”
Jessamine’s eyes widened as her fingers crept up to her neck to find the bandage he’d wrapped around her delicate flesh. “Those men?”
He nodded. “Assassins.”
“Why were they after us?”
“They could have been bandits. But my guess is it’s more than that. We must be getting close to some truth about the ark.”
Jessamine struggled to sit up. “We should keep going.”
He helped her into a sitting position beside him. She leaned against the rock at her back. She’d never relax enough to find sleep that way. With one hand, Alan reached up and gently drew her toward his shoulder. Gradually he felt her body soften against his. Her warmth enveloped him, as did the soft smell of jasmine. He drew a slow, deep breath of the intoxicating scent, drawing it into himself.
“Alan?” Her soft voice broke through his thoughts.
“Yes.”
“I’ve been wondering about something.”
“About what?” he asked when she paused.
He felt her shift beside him, but in the darkness he could see only the hazy outline of her body. “Why do you want to find the ark?”
At the question, his breath hitched. Duty, honor, a promise to his king demanded he do so. And yet, there was another reason too. “I need to make the deaths of my Templar brothers count for something. I don’t want them to have died in vain. Bringing the ark back to Scotland will memorialize them as well as keep it safe through the ages.”
Silence hovered between them for a long moment before she replied, “How will the ark be safer in Scotland?”
“The Holy Land always has been an area of great conflict. The ark is a powerful weapon. In the wrong hands, it could bring the world to its knees. The Templars will make certain that no one uses the ark for evil purposes. With the ark in our protection, the world can be at peace.”
“A noble cause.”
“It’s my duty, Jessamine.”
“Your duty means that much to you?” she asked.
The question lodged in his brain like a shard of metal. Why was he here, avoiding everything else, including his own grief? A chill crept across his flesh. Seven years ago he had become a Templar because he’d had nowhere else to go, no one else who’d cared about him. Now here he was again, just as he’d begun: alone. “My duty is all I have.”
Duty is all I will ever have. Could it be true? Was that all the Almighty thought he deserved? He’d been given a family of brothers for a short while, only to lose them. His gaze moved to the silhouette of the woman beside him. Because of her, he’d lost them all.
Did he blame Jessamine? If she hadn’t come onto the battlefield, would the outcome have been different that day?
The darkness of the cave melted into gray and he saw himself back upon that battlefield, surrounded by his brothers. The battle cry went out. They charged into the fray as ten thousand Moors advanced. A veil of death descended. There was no hope any of them would survive. Pain clogged his throat. He’d been the lucky one to escape. Because of Jessamine, he’d lived to fight another day.
He’d lived to try to fulfill his duty to his king, and to protect others, like Jessamine, from the evils of the world.
Alan straightened and drew a deep, calming breath. Duty was all he had, but it filled the void his brothers’ deaths had left inside him.
She must have noticed a change in his posture or felt the lessening of the tension in the darkened cave, because she leaned back against the wall once more and rested her head on his shoulder. “Will we find the ark?”
“For certain.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I know that the ark is waiting for us to find it.”
“It’s your heart that tells you so.”
He frowned. What did she know of his heart?
She snuggled closer and drew a long breath. “My heart tells me to have faith in you.” A moment later her breathing changed to the soft, slow cadence of sleep.
Her words lingered in the silence. She had faith in him. She had faith in her prophecy. She had faith in so many things. Lord, what would it be like to have that kind of confidence, confidence that allowed a person to dream about the future?
She had dreams.
He didn’t have a single one.
Chapter Nine
Where were they? The conde frowned at the teeming streets of Jerusalem. He’d sent his men out in every direction, looking for some clue as to where Jessamine and the man had run.
The girl was his. His princess. He deserved to have her after everything he had suffered. He would be overlooked no longer. When he had the princess, people would have no choice but to take him seriously. Respect him. Give him the power he deserved. Especially his mother.
A growl of rage startled the peasants who strolled by. They scattered to the opposite side of the street. The conde scowled. Let them flee his anger. Jessamine would not. When he caught up with her, he would demonstrate the full force of his displeasure.
Aye, once they were married, he would set his plans in motion to take control of the throne of Spain. Poison would ensure that each and every surviving heir to the throne died, leaving only a distraught Jessamine. Despite her half-blood connection to the royal family, the court would have no choice but to recognize her. And through the benefit of marriage and manipulation of his wife, the conde would become the ruler of Spain.
The conde could feel a flush heat his cheeks. But nothing would ever come of his plans if he didn’t find the girl. Perhaps it was time for a different tactic. He kept his gaze on the crowd, watching, waiting, until the perfect specimen of womanhood strolled by unescorted. His hand snaked out and clasped her arm. She yelped, struggled, but the conde held firm.
Others in the street stopped momentarily, taking in the girl’s ragged clothing. Assuming she was a slave, and he her master, they continued past the two of them.
He pulled the girl tight against his body. “I want information,” he said, his voice velvet smooth.
She rattled something off in incomprehensible Hebrew. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. Her chest rose and fell, emphasizing the firm breasts hidden beneath her dark clothing.
A frisson of lust pulsed through his veins. So innocent. So tempting. The conde moistened his lips. If he didn’t need her so desperately for information, he might have indulged himself.
He pulled her closer against the hardened length of his manhood. “You’d best understand me, or take me to someone who can.” With one finger, he reached out and stroked a loose strand of soot black hair that had escaped her headdress.
A shiver racked her body. She nodded.
He loosened his grip ever so slightly, allowing her to lead him toward a row of small stone buildings at the edge of the market. As they moved through the streets, he watched the sway of her young hips beneath her gown and his body hardened again.
He clenched his jaw against the jab of desire. He needed a tracker to lead him into the desert far more than he needed to slake his need with this girl.
Once he found someone who could follow Jessamine’s trail, she would pay for all the inconveniences he’d suff
ered since entering this godforsaken land.
There were no signs of the men who’d attacked Jessamine and Alan the night before when they left the cave on horseback the next morning. Although the sun had barely risen in the sky, the day was already hot. A warm breeze curled across the desert floor, doing little to relieve the heat.
Jessamine batted impatiently at the ends of hair that fluttered about her face. What she wouldn’t give for something to tie the loose ends back. No sooner had the thought formed than a silken gold cord dangled before her.
“Take it,” Alan said, his arm brushing against her shoulder, sending a shiver of sensation through her.
She accepted the cord, then gathered the heavy length of her hair in her hands, quickly securing it at her nape. The breeze flowed against her skin and dried the moisture from her hair. Her neck still bore the bandage he’d placed there last night. She tugged at the cloth with her fingers.
He pulled the horse to a stop. “Here, let me help you. Your wound should be healed enough to remove the bandage.” With gentle and adept fingers, he removed the fabric. A moment later, he pulled his water bladder from his saddlebag to moisten the cloth, then drew it back over her wound, cleaning away the sticky substance that covered her skin. “Better?”
“Blissful.” She smiled up at him. He studied her, his blue eyes clear and free of the shadows she usually saw there. She felt as though she could see straight into his soul. Something subtle had shifted between them last night. She felt it in the way he held his body against hers and heard it in the tone of his voice. The tension that had tightened his muscles was replaced by a warm, supple strength. “I never did thank you for saving my life last night.”
His eyes shuttered. “Then neither of us is in each other’s debt any longer.”
She nodded and turned back around, feeling suddenly bereft. He set the horse in motion. He’d put a wall up between them again, one that was just as real as the natural rock walls of the desert. Huge, red mounds of sandstone were now visible in the distance. And red, pointy spires thrust up from the ground toward the sky like the scarlet bones of an ancient skeleton.
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