The Princess and the Templar (32 page)

Smiling, Raul knew his friend wasn’t far from wrong.

****

Raul waited until the camp slept, and the sentries had crossed to the opposite side of the cloister. Leaning down, he
tucked the blanket around Cahira’s sleeping form. She sighed and snuggled into the blanket's warmth.

He grabbed a sputtering torch and edged into the shadow thrown by the chapel’s wall. He stepped through one of the open windows and stood with his back against the wall, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dusky interior. The torch wavered, and he realized his hand was shaking. Excitement bubbled in his veins. The moment he’d waited for was upon him. With enough coin, he’d never be a powerless
lapdog again. The moon shone through the fallen roof, eclipsing the torch’s feeble ring of light. In a corner behind the wooden altar, he spied a doorway leading into a darkened room.

Picking his way through the debris lying scattered on the floor, he crossed to the altar and entered the room. He lifted his torch and surveyed his surroundings. On the opposite wall, the tattered remnants of a red and gold vestment hung from a peg.

This must be the sacristy.

Finding a crack in the wall, he secured the base of the torch there. Then he dropped to his knees and ran his hands over the floor, searching for a loose flagstone or some other sign. Slowly and carefully, he brushed his hands over each dusty inch. When he swept his hand under the hanging vestment, a stone sliced his finger. He jerked his hand back and cursed under his breath.

Then he realized what he’d found.

The other stones lay embedded in mortar, their edges blunted, but the corner of this stone stuck up like a rough tooth. His heart beat faster. Grasping the upraised stone with both hands, he tugged. It rocked in its berth and shifted. Straining, he pulled harder. The flagstone slid free, leaving a gaping hole.

He retrieved the torch and leaned down, staring into the blackness. The gleam of metal beckoned him. He put the torch aside and thrust his hands into the hole and touched wood. Wood bound with metal brackets, a square box. But when he tried to lift the box, he realized how heavy it was. Rocking back on his heels, he pondered what to do.

He lay flat against the floor again and took several deep breaths. He plunged his hands into the hole and grabbed for the metal bands, his fingers scrabbling for purchase. But the bands were embedded in wood, and he could find nothing to grasp. He leaned back and then he had an idea. He squeezed his fingertips beneath one corner of the box, raising it a fraction. Slowly, he forced the box up, getting both his hands underneath the wood and lifting the corner.

Wrapping his arms around the raised end, he tugged. The box pulled at his arms, dead weight. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut, heaving with all his strength. The box popped up, clearing the edge of the hole. With a groan, he dropped it to the floor. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his lungs strained for air. Hope, elation, and trepidation warred within him.

Dirt covered the box. He wiped away the clods of earth to reveal a chest fashioned of dark wood, carved with fanciful Moorish designs and Arabic letters. Its metal fittings were made of brass, tarnished by time. There was no lock, only a spring-loaded clasp. With trembling hands, he opened the clasp and grabbed the lid. The top flew back, breaking off at its hinges.

Awestruck, Raul stared at the contents. There were masses of gold coins heaped together with silver ones. Ropes of gold chains and strings of pearls. And glittering jewels set in more gold and silver.

A sultan’s ransom.

His breath came in harsh pants, and his chest pumped up and down. He could scarce swallow, his throat was so dry. When he wiped his dirty hands on his chausses, he realized they were shaking. In truth he was trembling all over, like a sparrow under a cat’s paw.

Covering his eyes with one hand, he tried to drag air into his starving lungs and willed the pounding of his heart to slow. It was a dream come true, as if one of the Infidel’s genies had granted him a fabulous wish.

Mayhap only a dream he’d conjured from desperation.

He dropped his hand and stared. The chest hadn’t moved nor had its contents altered. The treasure was real and possessing it, he’d finally found the key to his future.

But could he go through with his plan? The thought seized him in its dragon jaws. If he took the treasure as his own, he
would be like the men he reviled—taking what he wanted without considering right or wrong. For all his life, he’d craved just one chance. One moment to reclaim what should have been his by right—a name and a legacy. Were his needs any the less or his desires more base than other men?

He shook his head, reminding himself he acted not for himself but for Cahira, his love. He needed the treasure to retake what had been stolen from her. The gold and jewels were but a means to an end—a necessary evil to reclaim her heritage.

Plunging his hands into the box, he scooped the precious stuff, reveling in the seductive feel of the cool, smooth metal slipping through his fingers. With this treasure, he could purchase an army and all the siege weapons he needed to break Kinsale’s defenses.

He hefted the heavy box in his arms, savoring the weight of it. For the box’s very weight bespoke the implicit power of its contents. Power to do his will. And possessing the treasure, he was no longer unworthy. No longer a penniless, bastard Templar with naught to offer a princess.

****

“Cahira,
mi amorcita
, please, awaken.” The soft words intruded upon her dreams, and she felt a tugging sensation on her arm.

But she didn’t want to open her eyes. She was snuggled in a blanket, warm and drowsy. Her eyes were weighted down, and her limbs felt heavy. She wanted to keep dreaming. Such sweet dreams of Raul holding and caressing her. Moaning a little, she stretched.

“Cahira, please, open your eyes.” This time she knew who called to her. ’Twas Raul. Or was the sound of his voice a part of her dream? Yawning, she opened her eyes and looked up. Her dream must have substance, for she could see his form leaning over her.

Reaching out her hand, she trailed her fingertips across his bristly beard. There’d been no time for shaving and little enough for washing away the prison stench. But she didn’t care. She smiled at him, happy he’d awakened her.

The reality of her handsome Templar was better than any dream. Secretly, she’d longed for him each night. For though they’d slept in each other’s arms, she’d hoped he would touch her as he had before, bringing her to the brink of mindless passion. But there had been no time whilst they fled the French king’s wrath. Tonight was different somehow, she felt safe in the ruined abbey.

Returning her smile, he grasped her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Come with me.”

She followed willingly, wanting nothing more than to be near him, living as man and wife, as they had for the past few days. ’Twould seem he felt the same for he led her into the forest, away from the others, where they could be alone.

Upon reaching the trees, they wove through the underbrush for a few hundred yards, following no discernible path. After a little while, she heard the gurgle of a stream. Standing sentinel beside the stream was a huge oak tree, its branches silhouetted against the night sky.

Never had she seen such a massive tree. ’Twould take the arm span of two men to encircle its thick trunk. Though winter had robbed most of its leaves, the oak’s low-hanging branches brushed the earth in a thick tangle.

Raul doused his torch and pushed aside the branches, leading her inside the natural bower. Without the torch’s light, the thicket of branches swallowed the moonlight. The hidden space beneath the oak tree was dark and secret. She remembered that other time in the black cave when Raul had first touched her. She trembled and the now familiar pulse between her thighs throbbed. Her body responded with an aching heat, anticipating the pleasure to come.

Raul must have prepared the way. She smelled the distinctive scent of pine needles. When she leaned down, her hand brushed the fresh boughs he’d placed there. Her heart raced, scudding like a cloud before the moon. A drip of excitement trickled down her spine. Thinking about him touching and kissing her, she shuddered with need and shivered with desire.

“Cahira.” He cleared his throat and grasped her hand tighter. “My love, my life.” He fell to his knees, kissing her hand. “Would you do me the great honor of being my wife?”

The breath stopped in her lungs. Her heart skidded to a halt. Had she heard him aright? She’d expected a hidden tryst like they’d shared before. She hadn’t dared to hope he would offer marriage.

“W-what did you say?”

He lifted his head. A single beam of moonlight struck his obsidian eyes and reflected the pure longing there. She gasped and covered her heart with her hand. Her head felt light and her legs watery and weak. Never had her emotions swung so wildly. Never had she feared or hoped for so much, not even when she’d gone into battle.

For the heat of battle was but a pale illusion compared to what she felt for Raul. When she’d faced him on the battlefield, she’d had nothing to lose. She’d already buried her family, and she despaired of finding someone to replace them.

Until he came into her life.

“I asked you to marry me, Cahira. And I want you to know I love you with all my heart.”

Still she could not believe his words. “What of your Templar vows?”

He shook his head. “I’m a Templar no longer. Since de Molay refused my request for aid, I couldn’t reconcile with the Order. I tried to raise a renegade force to retake Kinsale.” He paused. “I think it was then I realized I could never leave you.”

“But what about your imprisonment?”

“The French king seized all Templars, renegade or not.” He got to his feet and put his arms around her, pulling her closer. When he nuzzled her neck, his touch sent fire racing along her veins. “My imprisonment was an unfortunate happenstance.”

“But how can we retake Kinsale now? You were seized before you could raise a force. And I have no coins to—”

He placed one finger across her lips, stopping her words. “I give you my solemn oath I will retake Kinsale, to right the wrong that was done. I know how important it is to you.”

“Oh, Raul, I can’t believe it.” She gazed at his face. “I can’t think. I—”

He stopped her flustered words with a kiss, and she knew he spoke the truth. He wanted her, and she belonged to him. Clinging to his neck, she gloried in the firm feel of his mouth on hers. No longer would she be alone. She’d spend the remainder of her life with Raul, making a new family. Heart and soul, she rejoiced in his kisses. And her body responded, too, quickening and tightening, savoring the hard crush of his lips and the demanding thrust of his tongue.

How many nights had she dreamed of this, of Raul declaring his love? Her body arched into his, and she longed for him to be inside of her.

For she wanted to make a child with him tonight, a link that couldn’t be broken, an irrefutable incarnation of their love.

His lips trailed down her neck, and his hands sought her breasts. His touch enflamed her, reminding her of all they’d
denied themselves these many months past. His tongue swept her mouth, mating with her tongue. They tumbled together onto the fragrant pine boughs, their mouths hot and wet and clinging. Raul’s hands singed the delicate flesh of her breasts. Her body heated, flushed with longing.

She splayed her hands on his chest, kneading the hard ridge of muscles beneath his tunic. She wanted him naked and on top of her. Wanted to feel him inside of her. His shaft splitting her virginity and planting his seed deep within her.

As if in answer to her silent plea, he’d pushed down her gown and slid it from her shoulders. She glanced at her naked breasts. Her nipples were but hard pebbles, drawn taut and pouting, begging for his touch and his mouth. With one hand he caressed her breast while he pulled off her gown. Then she lay exposed to the air, dressed in only her chemise, shivering in the chill night.

But inside she burned.

He slid the thin undergarment from her body, and now she was naked. This time, her shame was banished, for they were to be wed.

His hands cupped her breasts, and she caught her breath. He pressed his hot mouth to her tender skin, sucking in her nipple, lapping at her with his tongue. His tongue roved over her, licking her sensitive flesh into a tingling awareness, drawing her to ground, to earthy pleasures. To life and the living and a celebration of their future.

Combing her hands through his wavy hair, she arched her back, drawing him closer. Her breasts ached and throbbed, flushed with heated pleasure. A thread of desire ran from her nipples to between her thighs. She rubbed her legs together as the pressure built.

Empty, she was empty, so empty. She wanted him, needed him. Inside of her, filling the empty place.

As if he could discern her thoughts, he cupped her woman’s mound with his hand, applying the sweetest pressure and wringing a groan from deep inside her throat. His mouth tarried at her breasts. The feel of him sucking her was as sharp and bright as a sword’s blade. The torture so pure, she could scarce stand it.

She rained kisses on his brow, his cheeks and ears. The fever in her blood leapt, bursting into flame. Her mind shut off, and her body became one with the earth again, with the desire embedded inside, with the passion she could no longer deny. She shuddered and shook, calling his name, begging him to take her. He pulled away and sat up, tugging his tunic over his head. His fingers fumbled with his laces.

Impatience and need clawed at her. Pushing aside his hand, she unlaced his chausses. His manhood sprang free, erect and turgid. With a sense of awe, she encircled him with her hand. A drop of moisture glistened on the head of his rod, a promise of his seed to come, of the children they would make together.

Shuddering, he pulled free of her intimate clasp. “Tell me that you love me,” he demanded.

“Of certain I love you.” Her gaze met his. “I thought you knew. I’ve loved you since the first time we kissed.”