Seducing the Knight (5 page)

When she nodded, Alan grabbed a torch from the wall sconce and headed deeper into the labyrinth. The passageway seemed to twist and turn randomly.

“How do you know where we are going?” Jessamine asked.

“I studied ancient records.” He said nothing more,
caught up in the excitement of the search. With each step, the temperature dropped as they made their way through the part of the maze that would have been underground even in Herod’s day.

They’d arrived at yet another chamber, one deep within the tunnel complex. A bricked-up archway took up the far wall of the room. Alan handed Jessamine the torch, then drew his dagger from his boot. He moved to the archway and, with powerful strokes, hacked at the mortar at the edge of the archway. “Behind this wall is where the Ark of the Covenant was kept in the Holy of Holies.”

In the torchlight, Jessamine’s face turned ashen. She gazed nervously up the passageway. “What would happen to us if they caught us digging here?”

Alan shrugged and kept digging away at the ancient barrier. “They would most likely put us to death.”

Jessamine gasped.

Alan continued to dig. Small chunks of stone pinged against the dirt floor as he created a hand-sized gap in the mortar.

“But you really don’t know if the ark is there or not, do you? We could be risking our lives for nothing.”

“Perhaps, but is it not your own prophecy that tells you we’re not searching in vain?”

“You believe in the prophecy?”

“I said no such thing.” He paused suddenly, listening to the shuffle of feet in the passageway beyond. Chance passersby would not be this deep in the temple complex. Had they been discovered? Alan palmed the dagger, ready to strike.

Jessamine’s gaze went wide and shifted between the doorway and him. “Do you honestly believe the ark isn’t behind that archway?”

“I do.”

She turned toward the door. “Then let us be away from here. I have no wish to die in this dark chamber.”

Alan sheathed his dagger in his boot. If they didn’t leave now, they’d be trapped, and he already knew they would find nothing inside. Halfway up the passageway they came upon an old man with shockingly white hair, garbed in a long white robe.

For a moment, he blocked the doorway, studying both Alan and Jessamine with an intensity that sent Alan’s pulse thudding. Despite the man’s age, Alan sensed strength in him. Alan clenched his fist, fighting the urge to draw his sword. He wouldn’t fight in this holiest of places unless provoked to defend himself and Jessamine.

Finally, the man uttered something in Arabic as he moved aside to let them pass. Yet even as they stepped around the old man, Alan could feel his watchful gaze upon them. Alan was grateful to note that the old man didn’t follow.

Together he and Jessamine moved back through the endless maze of passageways. It seemed like forever before they reached the end of the long narrow tunnel and emerged into the waning evening light, to be met by an overly large man wielding a sword. The man was dressed all in black. Yet the look on his face was darker than his garments. Ten heavily armed men closed in around Alan and Jessamine.

“The conde,” Jessamine breathed at Alan’s side.

Jessamine looked past Alan at the man she’d hoped never to see again. Bile rose in her throat at the murderous look in the conde’s black eyes.

“My bride,” the conde growled. “You’ve put me to a lot of trouble.”

Jessamine wrapped her arms across her chest to ward off a sudden chill despite the evening heat. “I’m not your bride.”

“Do you know this man, Jessamine?” Alan’s lips tightened grimly. The men flanking the conde moved in, yet Alan’s hand didn’t go to his sword. Instead, he widened his stance, preparing for a different method of attack.

“Unfortunately, yes. But it’s not as he says. We’re not married.”

The conde lurched forward. “The hell you say!”

Alan’s arm came up to block the conde’s movements, his palm flat against the conde’s chest.

The conde flinched back. “How dare you?” He drew his sword.

“Come no closer to Jessamine.” Alan’s voice was like steel.

Neither man moved.

Jessamine’s gaze moved from Alan, whose expression was intense but not frightening, to the conde, whose eyes glittered with rage. Tension made the air seem
suddenly heavy and still. She’d known the conde would follow her, but she couldn’t go back to Spain with that man, to the life of abuse and servitude he intended for her. She had a prophecy to fulfill. And more than that, she wanted her freedom. Her throat grew thick with unshed tears.

The conde broke the stillness, signaling his men to advance. “You cannot defeat me alone.”

The men rushed forward, their hooked swords drawn.

“Cease!” Alan’s voice boomed. “This is a place of peace. Sheathe your weapons at once.”

The Spaniards froze, startled. And Alan took advantage of that momentary pause. He grasped Jessamine’s hand and hauled her toward the Western Wall, where they vanished into the crowd.

Jessamine looked back over her shoulder. The conde and his men had tried to follow, but the two guards stationed at the tunnel entrance had returned and blocked their way. She saw no more as she and Alan ran back through the Jaffa Gate to the horse that waited there.

Alan swung her up on the back of their horse. She barely had time to settle before he joined her and spurred their mount through the city streets. They flew across town while people scurried out of their way. By the time they’d reached the edge of Jerusalem, Alan had slowed the horse to a walk. “Stay alert,” he warned as he pulled her farther into his arms, protecting her. “We cannot risk staying in town. We must head for the wilderness.”

The conde had followed her. Her chest tightened. His presence threatened everything—Alan’s quest for the ark and their fulfillment of the prophecy. If Alan hadn’t been there to protect her…She shuddered.

But he had been. He was part of the prophecy as well. She frowned. Had the seeress known that? Was Jessamine’s relationship with Alan directed by fate? Her heart sped up. Was the conde part of the puzzle as well, or was his interference something the seeress had not counted on?

No matter, the conde presented an urgent problem. Somehow, they had to get rid of him before the man ruined everything.

When they reached the outskirts of town, Alan slowed the horse. “Who was that man, Jessamine? And this time, I want nothing but the truth.”

Jessamine gazed at Alan. “He’s the Conde Salazar Mendoza, and the reason I ran onto the battlefield. He wants to force me to marry him.”

A tic started in his jaw. “He followed you to Jerusalem. Why would he do that?”

She was tempted to turn around, to shield herself from his searching gaze, but she met his eyes. “I want to follow the prophecy, not bind myself to a man who has no right to me.”

His gaze narrowed. A flash of anger darkened his eyes. “You will tell me all you aren’t saying when we bed down for the night, so prepare yourself.”

Jessamine nodded stiffly. They fell silent as Jessamine grappled with what she would say to him when the time came. Her fear slowly receded as she listened to the sound of Alan’s breathing against her ear. She found the sound comforting despite the fact he was angry with her. She couldn’t blame him. He’d come here on a quest and he’d ended up with trouble.

Despite it all, a sense of exhilaration moved through Jessamine because she was finally doing something with her life, not just meekly accepting her fate. She was taking a stand, reaching out for what she wanted—to follow
where the prophecy led her, for better or worse. For a short while, she would have her freedom.

Idly, she traced the threads of her new gown. She liked the simple garment. She especially liked the way it made her look. Ordinary. Until three days ago, she would never have dared to try leading an ordinary life. Having left the court, the palace, and all the responsibilities of being a princess behind her, she was filled not with fear, but joy.

She realized that for the past nineteen years she’d been a prisoner. Her uncle loved her, but since she wasn’t his child, and her parents no longer lived, she was often ignored, and isolated.

Out here, in the desert, she was free from the demands of court, the king, and all his expectations. Out here, she was simply Jessamine. She could blend into a crowd. She could do whatever she wanted for the first time in her life. A shiver coursed through her as both exhilaration and fear tightened her chest.

Alan wanted answers. She’d tell the knight at least some of the truth. But nothing would make her admit to being a princess.

She glanced up at the darkening sky. The sun was setting quickly.

As if in response to her thoughts, Alan said, “The darkness will offer us protection, fear not.”

“With you, I’m not afraid,” she admitted, gazing back into his face.

His eyebrows drew together. “You shouldn’t say such things to me.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s the truth, and that’s what you asked me to give you.”

“So I did.” Regret tinged his voice.

Jessamine drew a long, shaky breath. “I’ll tell you what you want to know now.” She felt his muscles tense
against her back. “The truth is,” she said softly, “when you found me on the battlefield—”

“You could have died,” he interrupted.

“For a moment I wanted to. That outcome seemed preferable to sacrificing myself on the altar of marriage.”

“He is your bridegroom?” Alan inquired in a harsh voice.

Jessamine shook her head. “No. Never. He wants to marry me only for the—” She stopped abruptly. She’d almost betrayed herself. Any mention of political advantage would only raise more questions. “He’s a brutal man,” she admitted. Alan had witnessed some of that brutality today. She prayed that one glimpse would garner his support.

“He’s hit you?”

“Yes,” she replied, pulling back her hair to reveal the bruise on her cheek. “He would have done worse had I not run onto that battlefield. He killed my mother.”

“God’s teeth! No woman deserves such brutality.” His eyes grew stormy.

Jessamine closed her eyes, fighting back tears once more. She would not be so weak as to cry in front of this knight. She wasn’t the kind of woman who manipulated men through female weakness. She straightened her shoulders and opened her eyes.

“Not all men are brutal, Jessamine,” he said softly against her ear. “You deserve someone to love you, not cause you pain.”

The husky sincerity in his voice stole her breath. She met his eyes. His gaze was personal, intimate. Again her breath faltered. This wasn’t the foolish repartee she was used to from the men at court.

This man might be a Christian warrior monk, but he was dangerous. With him, she felt as breathless as she did protected. A dangerous combination.

Disturbed by her thoughts, she turned to face the open expanse of desert. The only sound was the whisper of their breath in the cooling, motionless air.

When he finally stopped the horse, the stars hung high in the velvet black sky. “The horse needs a rest, as do we. We’ll stop here for the night.”

Jessamine searched the moonlit darkness. They’d stopped near a rock outcropping that towered high overhead. Alan dismounted first, then helped her down. As she slid down beside him, she could feel his hard length. Instantly, the tension that had built between them before surged back to life. His hands encircled her waist, gentle, yet firm. She should have felt threatened, overpowered, engulfed. Instead, she felt the stirrings of passion. Her gaze rose to his face. A somber and tender expression lingered there.

“We’ll sleep in the open then?” she asked. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.

His gaze lost its softness. “We’ll be safe enough. I can see and hear anyone who approaches.”

“Won’t you sleep?”

“Not likely.”

“But you’ll need your rest if the conde—”

“You’d be surprised how little sleep one needs to battle an enemy.”

She could imagine he’d known many sleepless nights. She had too, in the past few days since they’d met. It wasn’t Alan that caused her sleeplessness. It was the conde. She would do anything she could to escape the man who’d killed her mother.

“He’s my enemy,” she said quietly, hearing the catch in her own voice.

“For now, it makes him mine as well,” Alan said softly.

As she gazed into those mesmerizing blue eyes of his,
with his hands on her waist, Jessamine’s breath stilled in her chest. At that moment the conde and the threat he offered were the furthest things from her mind. Nothing seemed to matter except the sound of Alan’s deep, compelling voice.

Heat came into his eyes. His body remained rigid, yet he pulled her slightly forward and his lips nearly brushed her hair before he set her away.

A dull ache of disappointment tightened her chest as they looked at each other in silence. “Where do we sleep?” she asked, trying to break the tension.

“On the ground would be most appropriate.”

“Do we sleep now…?” Jessamine’s voice trailed off as she looked at this tall, handsome man who was completely off-limits to her. Not only was he beneath her socially, he was also a self-proclaimed monk. Swallowing, she tried again, “Are you tired?”

“My thoughts have little to do with sleep,” he said in a husky whisper. Suddenly his eyes were smoldering. He shifted toward her, then went utterly still, as if waiting expectantly for her to take the final step that would bring them close once more.

She took that step. His arms encircled her and a warm, searching mouth descended on hers. Parted lips, both tender and insistent, stroked hers, molding them, shaping them to his. Just when she felt she would melt in his arms, the kiss deepened. His hands tightened on her back, her shoulders, caressing and possessive.

A needy sigh escaped her as she reached up, her hands grasping his broad shoulders, clinging to them for support in a world where nothing mattered anymore except experiencing more of this dangerous passion.

When he finally dragged his mouth from hers, he kept her close in the circle of his arms. She laid her cheek against the rough texture of his robe, feeling his
lips brush the hair atop her head. His heart thudded in his chest, matching the cadence of her own frantic heartbeat.

What had just happened? Never had she felt so swept away by a force outside herself. She drew a shuddering breath. Was this the kind of passion her mother and father had shared? The kind of overwhelming desire that stole logic and reason—the kind of madness that had made her father give up his crown in order to spend his days in exile with her mother?

“That was a mistake,” he whispered into the darkness. “God help us both.”

“You’re right,” she admitted, placing distance between them. “That was a mistake.”

When Jessamine felt more in control, she brought her gaze to his. “We…” She spoke the word with emphasis, praying she would find the strength to put into words what must be said. “We must never give ourselves over to such abandon again. From this point on, we need to behave with proper decorum.”

The glint of his smile shone in the dark. “Is that how it’s done in Spain?”

“We need to behave twice as properly now to make up for our lack earlier.”

“If you insist,” he said, bowing, then extending his arm out to her. “Milady, it would be my pleasure to escort you to your bed for the night.”

His words were probably not the most proper, but she understood his meaning. She placed her fingers on his arm and allowed him to walk her to the outcropping. In the moonlight, she could make out a smooth patch below it. She released his arm and settled on the ground. Jessamine curled her legs beneath the skirt of her gown. She leaned her head back against the rock outcropping. “The moon and the stars are so beautiful tonight.”

He settled on the ground beside her, careful to maintain a proper distance. “That is one thing we all have in common.”

“What is that?”

“The night sky. The moon and the stars follow us wherever we go.”

“That’s a comforting thought.” She tipped her head back and concentrated on the stars. She searched for familiar star patterns. Instead, her attention was caught by a strange blue star that hovered slightly lower than all the rest. It hung in the night sky just off to her left. Now it shifted its position to directly above them.

A chill moved along her flesh. “That star…” She pointed to the small blue orb, which moved yet again to her right. Jessamine tensed. “Are stars supposed to move?”

Alan must have seen it too, because he got to his feet. “I’ve seen flashes of light in the night sky that were falling stars.”

Jessamine stood beside him. “This one isn’t falling.”

“Nay, it’s slowly spiraling downward,” he agreed with a note of wonder. “Perhaps it’s lightning. I’ve heard tales of lightning that forms in balls instead of streaks across the sky.”

Jessamine stepped closer to Alan’s side as the orb descended toward them. She reached for his arm, needing the feel of something solid as she realized that the star was actually a blue light no larger than her fist. “Alan—”

“I see. It is no star.”