by S A Monk
By early afternoon, they were back at the castle for a midday rest before the evening meal. On her way inside, Gabrielle just happened to look up to see Lucien atop the battlements on one of the towers that overlooked the eastern side of the lake. She imagined from where he stood he could see for leagues. Count Raymond stood next to him, his long dark red robes blowing around him in the breeze.
The countess looked to where her guest’s attention had shifted. “He’s a handsome devil, is he not?” she inquired with a husky laugh.
Ahead of them, the other two ladies were entering the keep. Gabrielle cast a quick glance at Lady Eschiva. “Aye, your husband is a very good looking man still, mi’lady.” She had already seen that the woman still admired and loved her husband very much. Gabrielle wondered what that kind of marital happiness would be like.
“Well, yes, he is,” the countess responded with laugh. “But he is not the one I was speaking of. I was admiring that monk up there with him, Brother Lucien. He turns the ladies’ heads wherever he goes. He barely manages to visit the court in Jerusalem without being set upon. It is such a shame that he is a monk, is it not?”
Gabrielle stared at the countess and wondered if she really wanted an answer.
“Well, what think you, my dear?”
Apparently an answer was going to be required. Gabrielle blushed, and wished she had not. “I … I suppose I must agree, Eschiva,” she finally stammered awkwardly. “He is a most attractive man.”
“Indeed. And maybe it might be interesting to see just how deep his commitment to the Order is. Raymond thinks our good brother’s resolve has been solely tested by Master de Ridefort’s rise to leadership. Lucien de Aubric could serve the kingdom much better as a secular knight, Raymond believes.”
“That is interesting.”
It was all Gabrielle could find to say. There was still much she didn’t know about Brother Lucien, and it was too dangerous to invite any speculation about a more personal or intimate relationship with him. That didn’t stop her from secretly imagining what it might be like, though.
+++
Lucien saw Gabrielle pass below in the courtyard, into the keep. He was relieved that the women had returned. He had been worried about them the entire time they’d been gone, despite the heavy guard they had been given by the count.
Bracing his hands on the merlons to either side of him, Lucien looked out over the crenellated wall atop the watchtower where he and Raymond had gone to talk. It was the highest point in the castle. From here, one could get a commanding view of the countryside on such a clear day as this one. He had wanted to get away from everyone to have this conversation with his friend, but he had also been anxious to see if he could spot the enemy from here. Across the Sea of Galilee, to the east, the ground rose in a long bluff. Lucien’s eyesight was not so keen that he could see any sign of an enemy encampment in the daylight.
He’d come up here last night before going to bed to see if he could spot the glow of campfires, and had seen flickers of light that could have been signs of a camp. He had an uncanny feeling Saladin had troops across the lake, though obviously they were remaining fairly well hidden. He was going to have to do some reconnaissance. Tomorrow he’d send Omar and Nephrim out to scout around. It was one of the reasons he’d brought them along, but he still intended to do some looking around himself.
They were not quite fifty leagues from Damascus, and the region on the other side of the lake was an ideal place for the sultan to amass troops for an attack on this region. Though Saladin hated Reynald de Châtillon, Lucien was not convinced that he intended to begin his assault upon the kingdom from there. If he was planning the assault, he would begin it from right here in Tiberius, for it was far more strategic than Oultrejordain, and I was nearly a straight shot to Acre and the coast.
There was abundant water in the region, and enough crops being grown to support a large army for months. In addition, control of a major port like Acre would enable the sultan to bring supplies up from Egypt for his troops. And if he controlled the road to Damascus, he would have full access to a major trade and transport road. It would also split the Christian states in half.
Raymond’s recent treaty with Saladin could do the same thing. It was extremely dangerous, as was the man himself, at the moment. His bitterness over the coup of Sibylla and Guy was eroding his good judgment, and Lucien knew he must turn his friend away from his current alliance with Saladin before it caused great harm to the kingdom and to himself. For Raymond of Tripoli was riding the edge of treason.
Certainly, the smartest of the Latin leaders, he had tried over the thirty years of his lordship to achieve peaceful co-existence with his Muslim neighbors. He had always been an extraordinary tactician. After his father had been killed by an Isma’ili assassin, Raymond had become the Count of Tripoli at the age of twelve. His knowledge and skill had made him a leader among the barons of Outremer, and eventually it had made him regent, first to King Baldwin the IV, then to the seven-year-old Baldwin the V.
For all the years of both kings’ tenure, he had served as a loyal and steadfast advisor. He was prudent and shrewd in his dealings with the Muslim rulers, as well as the often arbitrary barons. And he was flexible, which was a rare quality among the ferenghi, as the Arabs called the Franks.
Unlike Reynald de Châtillon, Count Raymond had emerged from a period of imprisonment in Aleppo with a greater understanding and knowledge of his captors. Rather than make him bitter, as it had many of those in similar circumstances, it had made him more able to deal with his rivals.
He was fluent in Arabic, and he studied the Islamic texts. The Muslims themselves respected Raymond and often had very cordial relations with him. That respect was one he shared with Lord Ibelin. Both men took an avid interest in the harvests, the rainfall, and the trade of the region. They were admirable fief holders, and did well by the people living on their lands, regardless of race and religion.
With the coup last fall, Raymond had retreated here to his wife’s holding of Tiberius. Baldwin IV had entrusted his last will and testament to his advisor and friend. In it he had stipulated that upon his death, Raymond would again serve as regent to his young nephew, Sibylla’s son. No one had expected seven year old Baldwin V to live to adulthood because of his frailty and chronic poor health. It had been Baldwin IV’s desire that upon the death of his nephew, the pope and the kings of the West appoint the next King of Jerusalem. Under no circumstances did Baldwin IV want his sister’s husband, Guy of Lusignan, to become the next monarch.
As a result of the treacherous betrayal of some of the kingdoms’ leading barons, Reynald de Châtillon and Joscelin de Courtenay among them, Guy had been put on the throne as young Baldwin V was being buried. Raymond had been furious, and now it was being said that he had made a secret pact with Saladin to overthrow King Guy. Lucien had his doubts about the truth of the charge, and the count had denied it to him just a short while ago.
According to his long-time friend, the arrangement Saladin had made with him was one of simple protection. The sultan would lend him men to defend his fief against attack from Arab or Christian, and Raymond would allow him unfettered access to the roads that led to the coast. The way Raymond had explained it to Lucien, it was more of a personal truce; and agreement by both parties to not engage in hostilities within the region. And Raymond was correct. As Lord of Tripoli and Tiberius, he had the legal right to establish such treaties with the sultan regarding his own holdings.
As far as Lucien was concerned, there was nothing approaching treason going on in Galilee. But others, especially Gerard de Ridefort, would not accept this truth without some demonstration of loyalty from the count. Raymond needed to mend his bridges with King Guy so that the barons would be united in their defense of the kingdom and the Grand Master could not split the region into dangerous political and military factions.
Hopefully, Lord Ibelin would soon be arriving with a delegation from the king to negotiate a treaty of coop
eration and peace with Raymond. Unfortunately, the alternative might also be true. Gérard de Ridefort might be arriving to arrest the count for treason. Lucien was depending on Lord Ibelin to prevent the latter, and Balian was depending on Lucien to talk the count into the former.
Their conversation on the roof of the watchtower today had been a good start toward reconciliation, but he was going to need a couple of more days to get his friend’s full cooperation, then he was very much afraid he was going to have to travel into Syria. Where that left Gabrielle he was uncertain. Much would depend on how safe she was her here in Raymond’s garrison castle, although he was growing increasing reluctant to leave her anywhere.
+++
At supper that evening, Lucien was seated at the table beside Raymond, enjoying another cup of the count’s excellent wine, when Gabrielle caught him staring at her. She hadn’t seen him after her return from the souk, but she noted that he was looking much more at ease, and she concluded his negotiations with the count had gone well today.
The moment he realized her had been caught staring at her, he dropped his head in a barely perceptible nod, and Gabrielle returned it with a quick unsettled smile. The table where they dined was u-shaped, and she was seated with the ladies at an angle that gave her a good view of the men.
Lucien was once again dressed in full Templar regalia, and while he looked dazzling in it, she missed the secular clothing he had worn the past two days. He’d been more approachable in Arab attire. Clothed in the mantle of a Templar knight, she was clearly reminded of his status as a monk and that she should have no interest in him whatsoever.
Beside him, Brother Giles wore his black tunic with its red cross on his chest. He was always a monk to her. Why couldn’t she think of Brother Lucien in the same light?
Lady Eschiva’s words had been on her mind all afternoon. How deep was Brother Lucien’s commitment to the Order? He was extraordinarily free of most of its regulations. She had not seen him live a monastic life, like she had seen Brother Giles. He frequently showed signs of chafing at the Order’s rigid rule, and she knew he did not hold much respect for the current Grand Master.
But she did not want to repay his extraordinary assistance by tempting him to violate his vows. She was not a temptress, at any rate. She would not even know how to go about such flirtation. She had never wanted to attract a man’s attention before. Reynald had taught her to hate all things physical between a man and a woman, and she had spent years trying to hide from all the men who came to Kerak or who served there. With her husband’s dangerously volatile moods, she never knew when he might treat her as he did his female servants and slaves, offering them to his guests and soldiers, whether they wanted to be offered or not.
Still, having Lucien de Aubric’s arms around her twice now had been incredibly thrilling. She had begun to wonder what his lips would feel like against hers. Reynald, thank God, had not been one to kiss. What was a kiss of passion between a man and a woman like, she wondered. Would she enjoy it?
Her gaze shifted to Brother Lucien’s mouth. His upper lip was hidden by the thick slash of his dark moustache. Would it tickle when he kissed her? Her eyes fell to his lower lip. It was fully visible above his beard. It looked remarkably soft and inviting. She wanted to run her fingertips over it, maybe even her tongue. How would their faces fit together in a kiss? His cheeks were lean and slightly hollowed. And beneath his closely trimmed beard, she could tell his jaw was chiseled into hard angles. She longed to see what it felt like. Would be bristly or soft? The compulsion of her curiosity rode her hard.
A frisson of heat unfurled inside her, creating a fiery flush from head to toe. Admonishing herself to look away before someone noticed her fixation with the Templar, she was not quick enough to do so before Lucien himself discovered her attention on him.
Their eyes met across the table. His darkened, filling with the same heat she felt melting her whole body. His expression turned thoughtful. She could see that whatever Count Raymond was saying to him went completely unheeded. For a few seconds, they were the only two people in the room. It was a powerfully intimate moment. It felt as if they were actually touching. Gabrielle felt her lips tingle and touched them with her fingertips, feeling as if Brother Lucien had just sent her that kiss she had been fantasizing about.
His oh-so-tempting mouth quirked up at one corner, and the look in his eyes turned to pure seduction. Gabrielle sucked in a quick breath as her heart began a rapid beat. Liquid heat surged through her loins, inflicting a sharp stabbing tingle. Her skin felt as if it was on fire. Unable to sustain their eye contact, she dropped her gaze to her wine goblet, then picked it up and emptied it in one long swallow. She wasn’t sure what had just happened to her, but she guessed she had undergone an unprecedented powerful jolt of physical desire.
The experience was so new to her, it was completely unsettling. She wasn’t even sure she knew what it was, only that it had been overwhelming and astonishingly wonderful.
She was no longer capable of sitting at the table and conducting a normal conversation with anyone, so she pushed unsteadily to her feet and gave a quick excuse to the countess. For several moments, she stood, gripping the edge of the table, waiting for her equilibrium to stabilize.
“Are you feeling all right?” Lady Eschiva asked her, her face etched with concern.
“I’m fine, simply very tired all of a sudden. I think I will retire if you don’t mind too much.”
“Not at all, dear. It’s been a long few days for you, I’m sure.”
Gabrielle smiled and nodded, finally able to step away from the linen-covered trestle table.
Across from her, all the men had risen when she had. Lucien watched her closely, then came around the trio of dining tables. “Lady de Châtillon, let me walk you upstairs. If you are going to retire, I need to check your room before you enter anyway.”
Gabrielle was taken back. “Is that necessary? Have you a reason to be so concerned?” After what had just happened between them, she did not trust herself to be alone with him.
“You went into the city today. You made yourself visible. It is best to make sure all is well.”
They stepped away from the table and headed across the hall to the stairway, Gabrielle a step ahead of Lucien.
“I guess I shouldn’t have gone. It was stupid of me to not consider the danger.” Lord, would there ever come a time when she did not have to hide from some danger? She suddenly felt like the idiot Reynald had so often called her.
“It was not so stupid,” Lucien argued gently. “I hear you enjoyed yourself, and Raymond and I made sure that you were well-protected. But, indulge me. It will only take a moment to reassure myself.”
Gabrielle climbed the stairs, acutely aware of the Templar behind her.
At the door to her chamber, he reached around her for the latch.
Maybe she did it deliberately, maybe she did not, but Gabrielle turned to him and tipped her head back to look up into his face. They were so close; it felt like a scandalous invitation on her part. But the temptation of his mouth was too great a lure. If she’d given it any great thought, she would have been shocked at her actions.
Yet she could not still her wickedly persistent curiosity about the feel of his lips on hers. She didn’t make the first move, though. To her surprise, he did. Cupping her cheek with his long tapered fingers, he whispered her name and bent his head toward hers. His soft groan melted her insides.
The touch of his lips was whisper soft initially. Gradually, they slid across her own, from corner to corner, then pressed against hers with increasing ardor. Her lips moved ever so slightly in a shy, tentative attempt to learn the contours of his beautiful mobile mouth. She heard another groan emerge from deep in his throat. She was overjoyed to realize that he wanted this as much she did.
Her discoveries were marvelously overwhelming. His mustache did tickle, and his lower lip was indeed as soft and supple as it looked. And something she had not anticipated— he tas
ted sweet and fruity, as intoxicating as the wine they had been drinking. She leaned into his broad chest, just enough to brace her unsteady limbs. Her legs felt weaker than they had when she had risen from the table. In response, his arm curved around her back and waist, lightly enough to let her pull away if she wanted, solidly enough to support her if she wanted to stay.
And that was exactly what she wanted! She didn’t know anything about kissing, but when the tip of his tongue edged out to trace the fullness of her lower lip, she felt like swooning for the first time in her life. Then his tongue probed the seam of her lips.
Gabrielle did not know exactly how to respond, but instinct told her he might want her to open her mouth. Was a kiss supposed to evolve? She hated her ignorance. She did not want to stop kissing him, especially not when he plunged his tongue fully into her mouth and wrapped her tightly in his arms. With an unmistakable growl, he slanted his mouth over hers, and for one incredible moment, he claimed her with a fierce and unmistakable passion.
Then abruptly, it was over.
They stood looking at each other, their breathing heavy and uneven. Lucien’s dark eyes were glazed with desire, but the expression on his face was rueful. Gabrielle was at a loss. Heat suffused her own face. Then he reached around her and opened her door. She stepped aside to let him search the room. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she took the time to gather her composure.
Lucien de Aubric’s kiss had been everything she had imagined and more! It had been wonderful! Amazing! Unbearably arousing! Completely forbidden, she reminded herself at last as she tried mightily to suppress all her pleasure in it.
“All appears well inside, lady.” He sounded stiff and formal as he came back into the hallway and held the door open for her. Gabrielle imagined he was trying to gather his own tattered composure. Surely, he was as disorientated as she felt.
