She raised her face to the sky and experienced a tiny thrill. Had the ark heard her prayers a second time? The cool breeze lifted her hair from her face, and she could smell the heady scent of rain, grass, and rich earth.
“You look pleased.” The conde interrupted her thoughts. She turned her head to find him riding alongside the wagon. He glared at her.
“Another storm is coming. It’s wonderful,” she replied. Any moment the sky would split wide open and the rain would flood the roads, the hills, the rivers.
“I’d blame you for the weather if I didn’t know better.”
She let his comments roll off her with a shiver of anticipation as he stared at the sky. It made her feel…powerful, and important. As though her own thoughts and wishes mattered enough for the divine forces of the world to help Alan and her.
That was the power of love.
She drew a soft breath. She did love him. He might present a hard exterior to the world, but he had also revealed to her a gentle, passionate side.
And the conde would destroy all hope of fulfilling her love if they reached that church. Her emotions turned somber as she searched the sky once more. The rain began to fall, at first sporadically, then in huge drops.
The conde growled. “Turn back, men. We’ll have to wait it out.”
At that moment the heavens opened up. Rain poured down with stunning force. He kicked his horse into a gallop and sped back to the inn.
Jessamine simply tipped her head back and let the water bathe her face. A smile came to her lips. She was safe from marriage for one more day.
Inside the inn once more, Jessamine stood by the hearth in the dining room and squeezed the water from her hair. The warmth of the flames dried her skin, but her clothes were soaked through. She didn’t care. The inconvenience seemed inconsequential, considering what she’d managed to avoid today. She settled into a chair before the fire and listened to the pounding raindrops hit the roof above her.
“Wipe that smile off your face.” The conde gripped her arm and pulled her from the chair. It fell back against the wooden floorboards with a thud. “Come with me.” He gave her no choice, dragging her from the room and up the stairs.
He jerked her into the open doorway of her room and thrust her inside. He strode after her and closed the door behind him.
She stood absolutely still at the realization that the rain had not saved her at all.
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?” The word she feared most from the prophecy flitted through her mind. Sacrifice. Jessamine stiffened. No. She would not accept that fate. If her experience in the desert had taught her anything, it was that she controlled her destiny.
The conde unbuttoned his black tunic. “You heard me. Take your clothes off or I’ll rip them from you.”
“But the church, the marriage.” She forced the words past a suddenly dry throat.
“I’ve decided not to wait. You will accommodate me. Now.”
Her mind reeled as she searched for a way out. The ark had been returned to the corner of the chamber. Was there any way out this time?
“Your clothes!” he bit out as he draped his wet tunic near the fire he had demanded the innkeeper set on their arrival.
She started to unlace her gown, slowly and with trembling fingers. “Might I dry the gown by the fire?” she asked when she slipped the garment down around her feet.
At his sharp nod, she pulled a chair near the flames and hung her dress over the arms. As she bent to arrange the hem around the base of the chair, her locket escaped from the safety of her chemise. She gripped it in her palm and continued fluffing her skirt, hoping the conde hadn’t noticed.
The locket. Her breath quickened as she remembered its hidden contents. The Bedouin herbs would help her if she could find some way for the conde to consume them.
She straightened and turned to face him. “Would you please call for some wine?”
He frowned. “You’re stalling.”
She nodded. “I’m nervous. I had hoped wine would help to ease my fears.”
His face darkened and he clenched his fists. “I will indulge you this one time.” Without replacing his tunic, he left the room to return a few moments later with a flask of red wine and two wooden cups. He set them on the small table near the door and moved to pour the liquid out, but she went to his side and placed a hand over his. “Allow me.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Will it not be my role once we are married?” she said sweetly, offering him her most innocent smile.
He straightened. “Very well. Serve me.” He retreated to the bed and sat on the edge.
She turned her back to him and furtively opened the locket, then poured the powdered herbs into his cup before she filled it with wine. The powder frothed, and for a moment she feared discovery, until the froth settled and vanished, leaving only a rich clear liquid behind. She took the cup to him. “For you,” she said in her most humble voice.
He accepted the cup and took a long drink, then nodded. “Pour for yourself and come join me.” He took another long drink. “I’ve decided this little ploy of yours will work to my advantage.”
Her heart stopped. “Why?”
He gave her a cruel, twisted smile. “Anticipation is hardening me even now. Look at me there.” His gaze dropped to his groin.
She shivered. How long did the herbs take to work? The Bedouin woman had not told her that. She steeled herself and dropped her gaze to the bulge in his breeches. “Yes, I see.”
He laughed. “Yes, my princess, you’ll see all its wonder very soon.”
She took a deep sip of her own cup.
He patted the coverlet beneath him. “Remove your chemise and sit by me. I wish to see you naked.”
She swallowed. Her fingers drifted to the neckline of her chemise. She had reluctantly tugged the bodice down when the conde’s cup fell from his hand. It hit the floor with a thump that drew her eager gaze.
She watched as the conde’s eyelids fluttered closed and he slumped backward onto the bed.
Sweet relief surged through her. The herbs had worked!
She pulled her gown from the chair by the hearth and tossed it over her head. She fastened the damp garment quickly, then headed for the door.
While he slept, she would find freedom. She grasped the door latch and tried to push it down. It wouldn’t move. Her heart thundered in her chest. He’d locked them in.
Hesitantly, she approached his body and with a light touch, searched his clothing for the key. Had he arranged for someone to lock the door from the outside? When she found nothing, she moved to the window. She had to escape. She threw the latch and opened it wide. The rain pummeled her hand, her head. The weather was no deterrent, but the four soldiers stationed below the window were. She released a cry of despair and shut the window.
Her legs went weak and she sank to the floor beside the ark. She was trapped in this room with that horrible man until the herbs wore off. Staring at his reclining figure, she hoped he wouldn’t wake at least until the next morning.
Surrounded by the sound of the falling rain, she settled herself against the ark. She had no choice but to wait and search for another opportunity to leave the man far behind. She stared at the ever-changing brilliance of the leaping flames in the fire and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d eluded the conde for one more day, and it was probably the last opportunity she’d get. For when he awoke, he would make her pay for what she’d done.
Jessamine pulled her knees to her chest. Until then, she had made her own reprieve, and she intended to enjoy it. She closed her eyes and imagined the scent of the rain mixed with the familiar aroma of musk and sandalwood.
She pulled her knees tighter against her chest. No matter what the conde forced upon her tomorrow, it would be Alan whom she thought of, Alan whose touch she’d feel.
Alan turned his face to the sky and let the Scottish downpour cleanse him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss
ed the rain until now. After experiencing the heat and dryness of the desert, he would never again take the rain for granted. Especially this day, when he knew the weather would turn the roads into a treacherous mess no wagon would be able to navigate. The respite gave him time to gather more men.
Simon, Bernard, Will, two younger knights, and he had left the monastery while the world had been steeped in darkness. Morning was now fully upon them as the gray stone walls of Dunaguel Abbey came into view.
Help was within sight. As the frigid morning air wrapped itself around them, Alan spurred his horse into a gallop. The men followed right behind him. When they reached the gates, a monk in a brown robe with the hood drawn over his head came out to greet them. His hand moved beneath the fold in his robe. “How may we be of service to you?”
Alan’s gaze narrowed. His hand drifted to his sword as he dismounted. “We need to speak to Kaden Buchanan. It’s a matter of urgency.”
The monk’s hand relaxed. He brought his other hand to his hood and pulled it back to reveal his face. A young man stood before them. “I’m Kaden Buchanan. State your purpose.”
“Brother Kenneth sent us to you. He said you could help us gather an army.”
“For what purpose?” His dark eyes remained wary.
Alan knew the time for truth was upon him. “To retrieve the Ark of the Covenant from a group of Spaniards. And rescue a princess they are holding against her will.”
Kaden’s eyes brightened, and a hearty laugh escaped him. When Alan didn’t join his laughter, he sobered. “You speak truth?”
“By God, only truth.”
Kaden frowned. “How did the Ark of the Covenant come to be in Scotland?”
“That’s a long tale.” Alan could feel his frustration rising. “Will you help us or not?”
“I’ll give you all the forces you need.” Kaden’s gaze narrowed. “But you must promise me something in return.”
“What?”
“That after we find the ark, we will use it to annihilate the French who remain in this country, threatening our lives and those of our Templar brothers.”
Alan frowned. “To use the ark is dangerous.”
“Not using it could be more so. Have you not seen what they’ve done to our brothers?” Kaden’s voice was raw. “They’ve burned them alive.”
“Do we do the same thing to them in return?”
“It would be justice.”
“That’s not justice. That’s revenge.” Alan frowned. “As Templars we must rise above the desire for vengeance. As Scots, we must show the French, the Spanish, or whoever comes to invade our shores, that we need no ‘divine assistance.’ That we, as men, will protect what’s ours without undue cruelty, leaving punishment in God’s hands.”
Kaden’s mouth tightened, but he nodded. “The code.”
“We all live the code from the moment we take our vows.” Alan paused. “So the question becomes, will you help us? Or shall we continue on our way?”
“The Templar in me cannot refuse you. I’ll help.” He stepped back and waved them through the gates. “Come in. We can gather the men and be on our way in short order.”
Alan held back to wait for the others to proceed, then stopped before Kaden. He reached out and clasped the man’s forearm. Kaden returned the familiar Templar greeting. “Thank you, my brother.”
“You can thank me when we have your ark and your princess back.” Kaden straightened and his eyes filled with determination.
“Until then,” Alan said gratefully. Hold tight, Jessamine, he whispered in his thoughts.
Hold tight.
Chapter Twenty-four
The conde slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to focus on Jessamine, who was sitting on the floor next to the ark. “I should kill you for that little trick,” he groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Jessamine hastened to her feet. “Then do it now and spare us both the agony of what is to come.” She placed her fingertips on the edge of the ark, needing the reassurance the artifact brought her.
The conde raised himself on one elbow and glared at her. “Just what agony would I be spared?”
“That of Alan Cathcart’s blade slicing through your chest when he finds you.”
The conde swung his feet to the floor with a ragged laugh. “He’ll never find me in time.” His gaze met hers. “It would give me such pleasure to punish you here and now,” he said, his words slightly slurred. He gripped his middle as though in pain. “But the better punishment would be to marry you, then wring from you all the pleasure I can before I slay that bastard. Your death will not come so easily, my sweet. It will be slow and painful, like your mother’s.”
Jessamine forced herself not to react to the mention of her mother. “Kill me slow or fast, it matters not to me.”
His face turned red. “You mock me?” The conde stood and took a tottering step toward her. “You’ll pay for your insolence, Princess.” He made his way toward her slowly.
Jessamine searched the chamber for somewhere to dart. There was nowhere to go. She already knew that, and still her instinct was to find a way to escape. She flinched as his fingers clamped around her arm and he pulled her away from the ark. “Come with me.”
He moved to the door, and at his command, it was opened. “Get the ark and follow us down,” he said to one of his men as he yanked her down the stairs and out into the inn yard.
Outside, Jessamine was startled at the change in temperature as they left the inn. Then she realized the cause. Deep white snow covered the ground. Snow. She’d seen snow from far away before, but never this close. She tipped her head back, allowing the tiny ice crystals to drift onto her cheeks. She opened her mouth and caught a flake on her tongue. Magical.
Jessamine’s spirits soared. The rain had shifted to snow, once again making the wagon impossible to use on the rutted roads. Could she be so lucky as to escape this marriage one more time due to the mysterious weather?
“Go help with the ark,” the conde yelled to two of his men, who lingered near the door.
“We weren’t certain…The snow…,” one of the men stammered as his face turned as pale as the ground around him.
“Get the ark.” The words were more a threat than an order.
As the men scrambled to do his bidding, Jessamine felt nausea rise in her throat. “We aren’t going to wait the weather out.”
“No!” The conde’s tone was violent. “We’ll walk the entire way if we must, but you and I will be married before the day is out.” His dark eyes blazed. “If you ever put anything in my wine again, I’ll cut you down where you stand.”
Without waiting for a reply or an acknowledgment, he reached into the wagon and withdrew a length of rope. He pulled her hands together and bound them before he tied her to the railing of the wagon. “Don’t forget, Princess, I’m the only one who can win our little game.”
Jessamine suddenly shivered as the snowflakes fell all around her. Cold seeped through the thin fabric of her gown. She could feel lethargy attacking her body due to her lack of sleep. She straightened. She mustn’t give in to her body’s weakness or her fears.
She had to stay strong and in control of herself so she could take advantage of any opportunity to escape. With a groan, Jessamine tipped her head back and let the large snowflakes fall on her face and eyelashes.
The evening light began to fade from the sky as the conde and his men left the mountains behind. They had proceeded to the church on foot, carrying the ark along with them.
In the valley below, the peaked roofline of the church came into view. The conde pulled Jessamine along behind him as he trekked through knee-deep snow toward the church. As he pulled her forward, Jessamine dug her feet into the snow and tugged against him, resisting her fate.
With a roar of rage, he jerked her toward his body, then tossed her over his shoulder. She kicked and writhed until she knocked him off balance, sending them both into the snow with a thud. His hand snaked out and cracked
against her cheek so hard, her head recoiled and hit the snowy ground. Abruptly, she grew still.
“That’s better,” the conde growled as he gained his feet and tossed her limp body over his shoulder. He continued toward the church.
The moment he’d long awaited was almost upon him. With his marriage to Jessamine, and with the power of the ark on his side, he’d be unstoppable. The sweet taste of victory sat on his tongue now. Sweet as honey. And now that he’d had a sample of what was to come, he wanted more. He was no longer content with just ruling Spain. He wanted an empire.
He had the Ark of the Covenant. With it he could annihilate all who opposed him. Nothing would stop him now.
As Alan surveyed the scene, he thought he detected a smile on the conde’s cruel and twisted lips before he turned to enter the church with Jessamine. Alan dug his heels into his horse’s sides, encouraging the beast to a faster pace.
The air grew still. That feeling of stillness before a battle had always indicated danger before. Despite the warning, Alan forged ahead, scanning the snow-covered scenery before him. Tall, tumbled boulders lined the path, as did a chest-high wild hedgerow, tall enough to conceal a man, or many men, at the bottom of the incline.
He could be riding into a massacre, just like Teba.
He slowed his horse, forcing the men behind him to do the same. ’Twas time to plan their attack.
Simon rode up beside him. “I see flashes of steel reflecting in the light of the setting sun from the bushes near the church.”
“Aye, ’tis what I sensed. They are waiting for us,” Alan remarked with dire seriousness.
“Who?”
“The Spanish, no doubt.”
Simon’s hand moved to his sword. His gaze encompassed the men riding in tight formation behind Alan. “We are ready for them. You and I both learned from Teba,” he said, as though he’d read Alan’s thoughts.
Alan scanned the thirty men behind him, his own brothers and Kaden’s men, all dressed once more in their Templar tunics. A moment of pride filled Alan’s chest. They might be disbanded, but their warrior spirits would never fade. “This time we will remain together, all of us, as a unit,” Alan said forcefully.
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