A Knight to Desire

by Gerri Russell

  He blocked the swords of the others, blocked and blocked again. Brianna clutched the hilt of her sword in her palm. If only she could help Simon; if only she could help them all.

  As her horse raced up the hillside still terrified by the sights and sound behind it, she could see far below. Her heart stopped at the sight of the massacre. Her body went numb. Her mind refused to follow. A single sob escaped her.

  Her brethren were crushed, destroyed. She hadn't had the chance to help them or to die beside them. Her visions had been for naught. She turned away from the sight of blood and death that would forever be imprinted on her mind.

  Simon had saved her life by forcing her away. She would never forgive him for it.

  Chapter Three

  Scotland, Spring 1332

  Heat prickled the back of Sir Simon Lockhart's neck as he climbed on foot up the Scottish hillside before him. His body tensed and sweat itched along his hairline. He turned his face into the hot breeze that rippled over the land as a familiar sensation came over him. Why did he sense danger here? He and his men were in the middle of nowhere. They'd been climbing this hillside for two days now. No one followed them. They'd been careful to make certain of that.

  There was no danger here. He was home. He was safe.

  Simon took a deep breath and forced his curled fists to relax. He sloughed off the odd sensation of danger and concentrated on the beautiful scenery around him. He paused, forcing the other nine men behind him to do the same. He looked down over the path they'd just traveled up the Cairngorm Mountains. Rowan trees dotted the hillside, and far below fields of green grass and purple heather stretched as far as the eye could see.

  And still the sensation of danger persisted. Simon squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the memories of his time in Teba when he and the Brotherhood of the Scottish Templars had attempted to return Robert the Bruce's heart to the holiest of places, and failed.

  God had abandoned them then.

  "Why do we stop?"

  Simon's eyes snapped open at the sound of Kaden Buchanan's voice. He drew a sharp breath and banished his thoughts to the darkest recesses of his mind. "The Mother's Cave is within sight." He turned toward the mountain and pointed off in the distance. They were near the secret cave that had harbored the Templar treasure for years. He and his men were to relieve the ten knights who had guarded the treasure for the last fortnight.

  Since its rediscovery less than a month ago, the treasure had been under constant guard while Simon and others determined the best way to move it to a new secret location.

  "We are almost there, men," Simon said, forcing a tone of excitement into his voice. It wouldn't do for his men to see his uncertainty. Besides, it was his memories that had brought forth the sensation of danger. Nothing more.

  The weariness on his men's faces vanished as excited conversation rippled among the knights who would replace the guards already in the cave. A soft smile came to Simon's lips as his men's good humor lifted his own spirits.

  "Come, men." Simon continued hiking toward the small opening in the mountainside. "I am certain the others are eager for their replacements to arrive."

  They journeyed up the hillside in no time, and stood at the opening of the cave. Suddenly the air thickened and silence fell around them. Scattered knights lay face-down upon the ground.

  Dead.

  Simon's heart refused to believe. He heard his men shuffle to a stop behind him. He ran forward, dropping to his knees beside his fellow Templar, John McCrae. Rolling him onto his back, Simon stared down into the vacant gaze. 'Twas a look he had come to know well. Bitter regret swept through Simon. With his hand, he closed John's eyes and stood, proceeding to the next man who lay reposed in death, his sword still clutched in his hand.

  "Are they..." Kaden asked from beside him.

  Simon stood, drew his sword and nodded, unable to answer just yet as he swallowed thickly. Quietly, he moved farther into the dark, winding passageway — into the bowels of the earth itself. The soft hiss of steel leaving other scabbards filled the silence as his men followed close behind. They proceeded deeper into the cave, then down a long passageway where two more knights lay dead.

  "Someone outside of the Templars has discovered the treasure," Simon said, his voice rough as shock rippled through him. More men were dead. They'd lost so many already at Teba, then to the maniacal madman, Pierre de la Roche.

  Simon's heart twisted at the thought. Nay, it couldn't be. The man was dead. He stood. "Come, men, be prepared for anything."

  At the end of the tunnel a wooden ramp angled down into another cavern. The soft sounds of a waterfall came to Simon's ears, and he knew they were close to the treasure. He'd been told before he'd left the monastery that the treasure could be found in a cave behind the waterfall.

  Two flickering urns lit the cavern and revealed a waterfall on the opposite side. But despite the light and the air that flowed freely through the cavern, Simon's chest tightened, his breath stuttered in and out of his lungs as though he'd been buried alive. An odd sensation raced down his spine. Was the villain who'd killed these men still here?

  Simon tightened his grip on his sword and moved silently forward. The flame from the urn created a kaleidoscope of distorted, twisting light around the cavern. Golden-hued spirits seemed to dance on the walls, spirits of those who had died here, of those who had originally brought the treasure to this sacred place, of those who had come before any of them. Their presence comforted Simon as he edged toward the falls.

  "I'm right behind you," Kaden said. Simon nodded and proceeded toward the underground lake that separated the cave's entrance from the treasure itself. His heart sped up as he strode into the water at the base of the waterfall. They'd have to go through the falls to enter the cave beyond.

  In the chest-high water, his mail dragged him down. He clenched his jaw and tapped new strength and determination to put one booted foot in front of the other, dragging himself forward, desperate to find the men behind that waterfall still alive.

  He held his breath and plunged under the falls. He emerged, sword at the ready, on the opposite side. Light splashed across the chamber. His heart missed a beat as he blinked, then blinked again, until his vision cleared. The treasure remained. Gold, riches, jewels, artifacts from every culture crowded the large room.

  "Oh, heaven above," Kaden breathed beside him.

  The air in the chamber was warm, dry and scented not with earth, but with the smell of something as sweet as honey on a warm summer's day. Simon shook his head, dispelling the magic of the moment and forced his gaze from the treasure to the five bodies that lay face-down on the ground.

  "Check them," Simon commanded his men as he hurried across the chamber to the familiar body of Brother Bernard. Simon fell to his knees beside the fallen Templar and carefully turned him over.

  "Bernard."

  The man's dark eyes fluttered open.

  Simon drew a sharp breath and crossed himself. "You're alive." Carefully he separated the leather tunic that covered Bernard's chest to reveal a long but not deep gash low on his belly. The wound had already stopped bleeding. But the purplish red color that surrounded his injury spoke of putrefaction. They'd have to take him back to Crosswick Priory if there was to be any hope of keeping the knight alive.

  "He left … me alive … to warn you."

  Simon pulled the bladder of water from his belt and held it up to Bernard's lips. The young Templar tensed as he drank thirstily, then relaxed back into Simon's arms, his relief palpable. "Who did this?" Simon asked.

  Bernard's eyes widened with fear. "De la Roche."

  Simon flinched at the unexpected words. "That madman is dead."

  Bernard shook his head. "Nay. He somehow infiltrated our ranks." On a deep shuddering breath Bernard continued, "He came here as one of the ten knights. He worked as we all did at first, then artifacts started to disappear. A crown here. Jewels there. Then the Holy Grail vanished and he struck. Using a sword from the tr
easure — Joyeuse, Charlemagne's sword — one by one he took us down. He took from the treasure only what he could carry … but he took the Grail. The healing cup." Bernard's head fell back against the earth beneath him, as though suddenly drained of energy.

  "How long ago?" Simon asked.

  "It feels like forever."

  "Is there anything else you remember?"

  "His looks, his voice, were so different from before. But I should have recognized those eyes — those light unearthly eyes." Bernard took a deep, shuddering breath. "He pretended to be one of us … the man who killed our brothers."

  Pierre de la Roche, the fanatical Frenchman who had terrorized the Templars in Scotland for months, torturing and burning the knights without remorse — a man who they all had thought was dead. "Why the Grail?" Simon asked with a mixture of anger and curiosity.

  Bernard closed his eyes. "I can assume only that he needed to heal from his fall over the castle wall the last time we confronted him. He walked with a limp we all assumed he'd acquired at the battle of Teba. But now I know better. He has used the powers of the Grail, for when he battled us at the end, the man was as strong as any warrior."

  The temperature in the chamber suddenly seemed cooler than it had been as Simon's breath jammed in his throat. De la Roche was still alive and determined to kill them all.

  His premonition of danger had been real.

  Simon straightened and looked about the chamber at his men. He had to keep them safe. He'd lost too many men already. He would not lose any more. Treasure or no treasure, he had to keep them safe because de la Roche could return at any time with more men.

  Simon's gaze moved from his men to the artifacts in the chamber. Instead of splendor, this time he saw only the enormous amount of work involved in moving the treasure. It would take days to move it all with only ten men — time they didn't have, even if they knew where to take it.

  Simon turned to Bernard. "Can you walk?"

  "I'll try."

  With Simon's help, Bernard stood and leaned heavily on the arm Simon offered.

  "Are there any other survivors?" Simon asked his men.

  "Nay," Kaden said as he gripped Bernard's unsupported arm. The others gathered around, awaiting orders.

  Simon nodded. "We must leave. De le Roche is responsible for these men's deaths. But Bernard reports he was alone at the time. That was perhaps two days ago, judging by the state of Bernard's wounds and the rigor of the dead men. De la Roche could return with support at any moment."

  "What about the treasure?" Kendall, the youngest knight among them, asked. "We can't just leave it for that blackguard."

  "We won't." Simon tightened his grip on Bernard's arm and led him back to the waterfall. The others followed. Moments later, they plunged through to the opposite side of the water and made their way up the ramp on the far side of the chamber. Once all the men had completed the passage through the water, Simon looked back at the falls. He knew what he had to do. He just prayed his fellow Templars would understand the decision he'd been forced to make.

  "Kaden, lead Bernard and the men to the cave's opening and hold them there. I'll join you soon."

  "Why?" The knight frowned. "What are you going to do?"

  Simon gripped the hilt of his sword, drawing the weapon from its scabbard. "I must protect the treasure the only way I can, by bringing this cave down upon it."

  Silence crashed down upon the small group until only the sound of the falls rumbled behind them. Jacob stepped forward, his eyes wide in his weathered face. "We've only just found the treasure."

  "Nay!" Thomas exclaimed. "If you destroy the treasure then de la Roche wins."

  Simon straightened. "'Tis our legacy to keep the treasure safe. This is the only way to do so with de la Roche at our heels. Do you not agree?"

  The men exchanged looks, each judging the other's response. "Aye," they said in unison, then turned and headed for the cave's opening, leaving him alone at the opening of the long, narrow passageway that led to the outside. Simon turned back toward the water. He had to think. How could he bring the cavern down? He stared blindly into the silver gray pool.

  He'd hoped beyond hope that, once he returned to Scotland after the slaughter at Teba, he would find only peace and contentment. And he had for a short time. He and William had been happy returning to their old lives for a few weeks. Simon had gone home to Lee Castle and left the precious Charm Stone he'd acquired in Spain in his mother's care.

  Then de la Roche had crossed onto their shores. Nothing would bring peace to any Templar ever again. Not while de la Roche roamed their country torturing and slaying all who had connections to the Templars.

  Instantly Simon's thoughts moved to Brianna. Would she be safe? Could de la Roche know her association with their unfortunate band of brothers? Simon clenched his fist around the pommel of his sword until the metal bit into his palm. Nay, he had to believe she was safe. Thinking of anything else would make him feel only more defeated and alone than ever before.

  Her survival had kept him going during the dreadful aftermath in Teba. He'd managed, with great cost to himself, to keep his feelings hidden from her after he'd discovered her deception. He'd treated her as a brother, but his feelings had always gone deeper than that, despite his vows. The memory of Brianna plunged into his gut. The last few years had been such a torment. He was a man whose two loves couldn't possibly coexist, and between which he could never choose. A monk in love with a woman; a man dedicated to God.

  Never had he allowed his feelings to compromise his vows — or at least those were the lies he told himself at night as he lay in his lonely bed thinking of her, praying she was well and whole and away from the evilness de la Roche had brought to this land.

  Looking around him now, at the men who'd lost their lives to de la Roche, and at the treasure that was now vulnerable to attack, he wasn't so certain of her survival any longer. She was but one woman against that man…

  Simon shivered involuntarily. It wasn't up to him to protect her. It was his duty to keep his Templar brothers and the Templar treasure safe. He forced thoughts of Brianna aside and stared at the challenge before him.

  The Templar treasure was as vulnerable as it had ever been. Without thinking about the magnitude of what he did, Simon raced up the passageway to the four pillars that the previous treasure guardians had carved into the rock. Between each pillar stood a statue of a Templar. The guardians had spent years creating this underground temple. All of it would be destroyed if his plan succeeded.

  Simon moved to the pillar closest to the cave's opening. But even the guardians had prepared themselves for a day such as this. If the scroll Siobhan Fraser, the daughter of one of the guardians, had shown Simon was correct, then he'd find what he searched for here on this first pillar. Carefully he examined the stone, searching in the golden light of the torches for a flaw in the carving. It took several moments before he found it. A deeply grooved cut in the lower half of the stone pillar. A carefully designed flaw in case such an emergency as this should arise.

  Simon stepped back and lifted his sword. For a moment he thought about praying, but banished the idea. Why pray to a God that abandoned those who needed him most? Or perhaps it was Simon's own faith that hadn't been strong enough. Perhaps if he'd believed more?

  He clenched his fingers on the pommel of his sword. Nay, 'twas God who had left them in their time of need. Now when they had need of divine assistance once more, it would be Simon's own might and the guardians' careful design that would bring the pillars down and collapse the rest of the cave.

  On a sharp breath, Simon tightened his grip on his sword and let the weapon fly with all the intensity his muscles could provide. An explosion of sound echoed through the hallway as steel met stone. Pain ricocheted up his forearms and lodged razor-sharp in his shoulders. He clenched his jaw against the agony as the pillar snapped, wobbled, then fell toward the statue and the pillar beside it.

  Simon took several steps back, as th
e second pillar crashed into the third, then the fourth tumbled down to crash upon the rocky ground. The stone beneath him rocked, making it difficult to stand as he struggled toward the exit.

  All around him, the rock shuddered. The air filled with a terrible grating sound. The shriek deepened, grew louder. The world began to shake and sway around him as the ceiling above cracked at the lack of support and tumbled to the ground in huge, raining chunks. In surreal slowness, Simon ran for the opening of the cave. Over his shoulder he watched the cavern fall. One rock tumbled, then another until an avalanche of noise boomed all around him, rattling the walls — the sound both earthly and unearthly.

  The walls were collapsing in upon themselves. Simon surveyed the destruction that intensified with each beat of his heart. If he didn't hurry, he'd be buried along with the treasure. With the earth twisting and rutting upward in his path, he raced down the dark corridor. Ahead he could just make out a splash of light. He fixed on it. Power surged through his body, made his heart beat faster as dirt showered all around him, spattered on the rock beneath his feet. The light ahead became his single hope for salvation. Large chunks of rock rained down from above. He leapt around them. His breath ripped from his chest at his exertion. He pumped his arms, moving faster. The sound of his ragged breathing pounded in his ears, mingled with the thrumming of his heart, drowning out the noise.

  He broke through into the light on a cloud of dust and rock to find his men waiting with alarmed faces. The shaking stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

  A slight breeze stirred and whistled through the treetops below. A bird chirped. The warm rays of the sun kissed the back of his neck, drying the sweat that had gathered there. The world around him went on as though nothing had happened. Yet a vast, impenetrable emptiness invaded his soul.

  What had he just done to the Templar treasure? A treasure his Order had painstakingly gathered and protected over the centuries, a treasure he had re-buried with a single stroke of his sword. Simon drew a sharp breath, forcing the emptiness aside. He'd done what he'd had to do to keep the treasure safe from de la Roche and others until the Brotherhood could dig it out of the rubble.