Naomi twirled about so suddenly she nearly toppled from the stool. Stifling a startled gasp, she stumbled to her feet, pretending the movement had been graceful.
Raising her gaze to the stranger’s face, Naomi forgot her clever rejoinder. She forgot to breathe. She forgot everything except the man standing near the doorway.
His features were harsh and angular yet so incredibly beautiful he didn’t seem real. Bright with amusement and speculation, his strange golden eyes captured her gaze completely.
“Shall I disrobe?”
The smoky quality of his voice made Naomi tingle. Sleek black hair had been pulled straight back from his face and secured at the nape of his neck. Naomi wanted to trace the slash of his black eyebrows and smooth the faint creases that framed his extraordinary eyes. She wanted to test the resilience of his mouth with her fingertips and…
What was wrong with her?
Shaking away the strange stupor, Naomi forced herself to speak. “I’m not the scribe, my lord, so I require no model.”
He walked toward her, his stride long and lazy. “If you aren’t the scribe, what were you doing when I arrived?”
Naomi quickly hid her ink-stained hand behind her back. Her sandals scraped against the floorboards as she moved away from the high, angled table. “I was admiring Brother Gabriel’s work. He is the finest illuminator in the entire order.”
After so many years, the deception shouldn’t rankle, but it did. She hated the prejudice that required she deny her accomplishments.
He glanced at the manuscript page then back at her. Who was this man? His garments told her only that he was wealthy. The plush, black velvet surcoat had been elaborately embroidered in gold, and the gray tunic beneath was no less costly. He wore no sword, but Naomi sensed the menace that hovered around men of war.
“What business have you here?” she asked. “Were you looking for Brother Gabriel?”
Before she realized his intention, he reached behind her and grabbed her wrist. His touch sent shivers up her arm and Naomi sucked in a ragged breath. Drawing her arm back in front of her, he turned her hand this way and that, inspecting the calluses and stains.
“You’re not a scribe?” he challenged softly.
“The order has been charged with illuminating the Holy Scripts, sir.” She avoided his gaze as she continued her explanation. “Some learned men believe women do not possess souls. Almighty God would never bestow talent and inspiration on so lowly a creature. Only a man can be trusted to script the Word of God.”
The stranger laughed and Naomi felt her insides clench. He had been beautiful when he scowled. His appeal now made her restless and…hot.
His thumb brushed over her wrist and his gaze settled on her mouth. “Gabriel must have his hands full with you about. Where is he?”
Naomi tried to draw her hand from his grasp but he wouldn’t allow it. The soft stroke of his thumb made her pulse jump and her skin flush. “What do you want with Brother Gabriel?”
“What I want at the moment has nothing to do with Gabriel.”
Her hand brushed against coarse stone. She’d backed herself against the wall! Her heart fluttered and she found it hard to swallow. “If you have business with—”
“What’s your name?” he interrupted.
His shimmering gaze moved slowly over her features. Naomi felt the caress like a physical touch. Coolness from the stones at her back seeped through her clothing in sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. She shivered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“I do not share my favors, sir. There are women in the village who are willing to…accommodate your needs.”
“What would you know of my needs?”
He sounded odd, as if she had struck some dark, painful chord within him. Naomi’s chest tightened and her heart pounded. “Nothing, my lord. I meant only to make clear that I am not a harlot.”
He released her hand and moved in closer. Pressing his palms against the wall, he caged her with his body. “I would have your name, damsel.”
Fear welled within Naomi but she tried not to panic. The scriptorium was high in a stone tower, secluded and isolated. “Please, my lord. I didn’t mean to anger you.” She spoke in a calm, even tone.
“I am not angry.”
But he looked angry. His golden eyes glittered with determination and the set of his jaw seemed dangerous. He was tall and broad, strong and menacing.
“Who are you?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, his eyes searching.
“No one of consequence.” She pushed against his chest, shocked by the inflexibility of his flesh. “Let me go.”
He smiled slowly, provocatively. “I think not on both accounts.”
Gideon stared down into the woman’s bright blue eyes and felt his fangs lengthen. He quickly closed his mouth, unwilling to reveal his true nature. He was hungry, but it had been many weeks since he’d sought the comfort of a woman’s embrace. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to penetrate her throat with his fangs or feel her feminine core tighten around his shaft.
Perhaps he could have both.
He wrapped his arms around her slender form, pressing her against his chest. She instinctively arched and shoved. This only aligned their lower bodies more intimately. Her eyes widened and the scent of fear exploded in his nose.
“Be still,” he commanded with his dark voice and the flash of his eyes.
She went limp in his arms. Her eyes drifting shut and Gideon chuckled. He hadn’t meant the compulsion to be quite so powerful. Her head lolled back into the bend of his elbow, exposing her neck and ending his mental debate. He would feed first and then draw her back to awareness as he slowly seduced her senses.
Burying his face in her throat, he inhaled her scent. She smelled fresh and feminine with faint traces of fear and—arousal? Gideon parted his lips and stroked his tongue along her jugular, feeling the rhythmic pounding, the power and life. Intoxicated by her scent, it took him a moment to recognize the subtle sweetness of her taste.
Innocence.
With careful restraint, he pricked her skin with his fangs and then quickly withdrew. He savored the rich complexity of her blood. His heart hammered as her nature was revealed. She was pure of heart. Selfless, devoted and true.
Dark hunger slashed through Gideon and he groaned. The age-old battle within his spirit raged out of control, driving the breath from his body and the strength from his legs. He sank to his knees, maintaining his hold on the woman.
The shriveled remnants of his goodness surged to life, reaching for her, crying out to her. But the evil in him was just as strong. He wanted her as he had never wanted anything or anyone. He threw back his head and roared. Anguish and fury saturated the sound. He longed to drown in her innocence, to gorge on her goodness until…until she was corrupted or dead?
Unsteady and shaken, he sat down on the wood-planked floor and pulled her into his lap, cradling her in his arms like a child. His hand trembled as he brushed the hair back from her face. She looked no different than other humans. Still, something about her held him back. His dark nature demanded that he use her to sate this raw, burning hunger, but he couldn’t seem to move.
She shifted within his arms and slowly opened her eyes.
Fear erupted again. He could smell its acrid stench, hear its relentless pounding, taste its bitterness—but it had never been repulsive before.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I frightened you. You fainted.”
“I have never fainted.” She sounded affronted as she sat up in his lap. She squirmed a bit and then went very still, her hand splayed in the center of his chest.
Her long chestnut hair was tousled, a stray wisp curled against her cheek. She stared up at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, and Gideon knew he would not ravish her. Seduction, on the other hand, was still a very real possibility.
“Did you pretend to faint so I’d take you in my arms?”
Her eyes lit with indignation and Gideon smiled, his hunger controlled again, at least for the present.
“Why would I need such a ploy?”
“Because you’re not yet ready to admit you want me, even to yourself.”
She laughed and the hand resting against his chest began to push. “Are you always so arrogant?”
He couldn’t bring himself to let her go. Her rounded bottom was doing cruel things to him, yet he ached with the need to touch her. Taste her. “Kiss me and I’ll release you.” If you still want to be released once my mouth is moving upon yours.
Naomi felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden. “I shall scream and you’ll be forced to let me go.”
“Forced by whom? This chamber is far from the domestic range. We are quite alone.”
She didn’t move, could scarcely breathe.
Brushing his warm fingers against her cheek, he tucked a curl behind her ear. “Let me taste your mouth. I only want a taste.”
She rubbed her palm against his chest, fascinated by the unyielding shape beneath the soft material. Why was she still sitting here? He wasn’t really restraining her.
This man was the personification of her darkest fantasies, the elusive, mysterious something that other people whispered about. He was potent, powerful and yet incomprehensible.
His mouth covered hers, driving all rational thought from her mind. She felt the heated slide of his lips and trembled. She felt the sensual glide of his tongue and groaned. His mouth moved over and against hers, his tongue touched and tasted.
She found his sleek hair and sank her fingers into the cool strands. His fingers were in her hair too. She felt his hand close into a fist, carefully controlling her. He tilted her head and his mouth fit more tightly over hers, guiding her lips farther apart.
She accepted the bold thrust of his tongue with a little gasp. Overwhelmed and intoxicated, she felt completely out of control. He was taking too much, moving too fast. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only yield to his passion.
Fear found its way through the haze as he deepened the kiss. He was aggressive now, demanding, his mouth plundering the depths of hers. Naomi shoved against his chest and tore her mouth away.
“More, Naomi, give me more,” he growled.
His arms tightened, dragging her flush against his chest. Naomi turned her face away as his words registered. “You called me Naomi.”
“Is there some other name you’d prefer?”
His mouth moved to the underside of her jaw and slide along her throat. Shoving hard against his chest, she tried to think, to understand what he was doing to her. He had demanded her name, but she hadn’t told him.
Scrambling off his lap, she scurried to the other side of the chamber. “How do you know my name?”
For a moment he sat there staring at her over his shoulder. Then in one fluid motion, he gained his feet and stalked toward her. “You told me your name.”
She felt compelled to look at him, to stare into his eyes, but she quickly averted her gaze. “Nay, sir, I did not.”
He stood directly across the table from her. It was no real protection. He could easily shove it aside. She sneaked a glance at his face. He was looking at the manuscript page, his expression inscrutable.
“Where will I find Gabriel?”
His voice softly demanded the information and Naomi felt the urge to blurt out his location. “What do you want with Brother Gabriel?”
“Where will I find him?”
He looked up and their gazes locked before she dragged hers away. Naomi felt hot and then cold. “I’ve no idea. You need to inquire with the castellan. His name is Brother Aaron.”
Suddenly he was beside her, his palms framing her face, and Naomi had no choice but to meet his penetrating stare. “What is Gabriel to you?”
She struggled against the need to tell him every detail of her relationship with Brother Gabriel. Keeping her mouth firmly closed, Naomi fought the bizarre compulsion. Never would she do anything that would endanger her mentor and closest friend, but the need to speak became overwhelming.
“He is a member of the Holy Order of St. John. Surely you knew that before you came here.”
“What is he to you?”
Stubbornly closing her eyes, she allowed Brother Gabriel’s kind, serene face to form within her mind, driving back the dark compulsion. “Why have you detained me?”
“Because you’re lying.” His hand slid down along her jaw, his thumb stroking back and forth across her bottom lip.
A hot, golden haze burned through her mind, consuming the image of Brother Gabriel. Naomi’s eyes flew open. It was as if he were controlling images inside her head!
“You lied about being a scribe. You lied about Gabriel. You not only know where he is, but he is important to you. What is the connection?”
Someone had to end the stalemate. Although he could easily find out about her, his identity and purpose would be far harder to learn. “Brother Gabriel is the nearest thing to a father I have ever known. He is a friend and mentor. What is he to you?”
“Gabriel is my brother.” With an enigmatic smile he turned and left the room.
She stared after him for a long moment, her mind filled with questions. Why had Gabriel never mentioned having a brother? Was the stranger a mercenary or had he come simply to visit his brother? His interest seemed somehow…menacing.
How had he known her name?
An odd combination of fear and excitement pulsed through her entire body. She had never met a man who made her tingle with just the intensity of his gaze.
She must tell Brother Gabriel a man claiming to be his brother had arrived at the Krak des Chevaliers, but he was in the chapel attending Vespers. As she should have been, she realized with a small, rebellious smile.
It was all so very strange.
She turned her attention back to the manuscript page, determined to banish thoughts of the stranger from her mind. His striking features refused to stay suppressed. With a helpless sigh, she reached for a scrap of vellum and began to sketch.
* * * * *
Naomi angled her sketch of the stranger toward the lamplight and felt heat spread across her cheeks. Just his image caused her senses to respond. It was ridiculous.
“I missed you at Vespers,” Brother Gabriel said from somewhere behind her. “What kept you so occupied that you neglected your evening prayers?”
Carefully keeping the scrap of vellum turned away, Naomi pivoted on the stool and offered her warmest smile. “Adam and Eve. Well, mostly Adam.”
Brother Gabriel chuckled and Naomi tried to release the tension gripping her abdomen. She studied her mentor with new interest as he crossed the scriptorium. There was nothing she didn’t know about this man or so she’d believed until a short time ago.
He wore a long-sleeved black robe emblazoned with the distinctive white cross identifying him as a member of the elite Order of St. John of Jerusalem. Naomi felt proud to be part of such an important order. The Knights of St. John had been serving Western pilgrims as they traveled through the Holy Land for well over a century. One of their grandest accomplishments had been building a hospital in the heart of Jerusalem. Now members of the order were often called Knights Hospitaller.
Naomi focused her attention on the man within the robe. Gabriel’s neatly trimmed hair was a bright blending of silver and gold, nearly opposite from the raven-black locks of the man claiming to be his brother. His eyes were a warm brown, but there were shards of gold Naomi had never noticed before.
“Is something troubling you, Naomi? You stare at me as if I have sprouted horns.”
“Who is this man?” She handed him the scrap of vellum.
His eyes widened for just a moment before he concealed his surprise. She watched his throat work as he swallowed awkwardly. “Where did you see him?”
“He just left. You may have passed in the bailey.”
He set the sketch aside and grasped both of her hands. Fear shon
e in his eyes as he searched her face and person. “Are you well? Did he harm you? Threaten you?”
Naomi nervously licked her lips. “I’m fine. But why would that be your first assumption? Is he your brother as he claimed?”
Releasing her hands, Brother Gabriel averted his face for a moment before he spoke. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Nay, not until you tell me why he frightens you. I have never known you to be afraid of anyone or anything yet I see fear in your eyes.”
“Gideon can be dangerous, Naomi. I cannot pretend otherwise. He—”
“Gideon,” she whispered. “He didn’t tell me his name.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Only that he is your brother. He asked where he could find you and when I wouldn’t volunteer the information, he became annoyed.” She had to fight back a smile as she remembered the heated embrace they had shared. “He can be quite intense.”
“Did he touch you?” He took a step toward her. “You said he didn’t harm you.”
“He didn’t harm me,” she said reassuringly. “What does he want with you?”
“I’m not certain.”
“Why did you never tell me you have a brother?” The faintest edge cut through her tone despite Naomi’s effort to conceal her disappointment.
“It never occurred to me that you would meet.” He turned toward the door. “I must find him. His coming can only mean trouble for both of us.”
* * * * *
Gideon leaned against the stone wall of the mercenary barracks and stretched out his legs along the narrow cot assigned for his use. Crispin had chosen the cot on his left while the one on his right remained unoccupied. The barracks were spacious and surprisingly clean. Gideon had arrived with eight mercenaries and the castellan of Krak des Chevaliers had extended them hospitality without hesitation. The compound was massive. Ten additional inhabitants would hardly be noticed.
Men of every shape and variety milled about the open room conversing with each other, some sharpening weapons. Gideon watched them with dispassionate interest in the smoky lamplight, his mind distracted by his encounter with Naomi.
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