by S A Monk
When he slipped one hand between them and began fondling her most intimately, she very nearly burst into flames herself. Upon hearing the aroused little moans she could not hold back, Lucien thrust home with one sure stroke. After that everything was a blur for Gabrielle.
Lucien built both of their pleasure to a piercing crescendo. The tremors racing across her flesh matched his. She was soon whimpering with need as he pumped into her over and over, gripping the soft flesh of her buttocks to cushion the increasingly powerful thrusts of his muscular body.
Gabrielle cried out when the convulsions finally seized her in that little death she so loved. Lucien soon followed her with a hoarse cry of his own as he bucked and shuddered violently. The moment he spilled into her, Gabrielle locked her legs tightly around his narrow waist and rode the storm out with him, gasping and shivering in his arms as he collapsed atop her.
Beyond his broad shoulders, the glittering blanket of stars twinkled back at her in all their heavenly glory, branding her soul with their grace and beauty.
CHAPTER 17
If one stood on a hill overlooking the great city if Damascus, one would see a vast sprawl of buildings, sprinkled with slender towering minarets and blue green bulb shaped domes. The glittering pinnacles of stone and tile defined the character and the culture of the Middle Eastern trading center, but maybe not as well as the streets of the ancient capital.
Below the assortment of rooftops, the cultures of many worlds met. For centuries, Damascus had been a major trade center; a beginning, a stopover, and an end. Traders from India, the Far East, Africa, Egypt, and the Western Continent traveled the overland routes and passed through the city gates, leaving goods from the far corners of the world.
Thousands of people relied on trade, and merchants thrived from the exchange of goods. Caravans made up of thousands of camels, drivers, and merchants converged on the city regularly. Following the ancient trade routes of the Silk Road, the Spice Road, and the Incense Road, they brought silk and jade from China, cotton, rice and sugar from India, and spices from ports along the Mediterranean and beyond.
Precious incense from Africa blended with the smell of clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg from Asia. Horses, leather, carpets, dates, and coffee came from the Arabs themselves, weaving their own unique odors among the rest.
Damascus was a melting pot, especially in the large market sectors of the city. Any nationality, religion, or skin color could be seen on its streets. There was nothing one could not purchase for the correctly haggled price. There was no such thing as an illicit commodity. Everything was for sale, including information from any region of the world.
After a week apart, Lucien took Gabrielle with him to the markets of Damascus for the next few days.
One day, Nahla went with her. The two women browsed vendors in the arms’ market, of all places, while Lucien wandered in and out of merchant stalls and shops. There were very few females in this sector, but when Lucien was finished, their Bedouin hostess took them to her husband’s smithy.
Over refreshments, Farouk handed Lucien a package, which he in turn gave to Gabrielle. Flustered by the unexpected gift, she opened it and lifted out a beautiful silver dagger, designed especially for a woman. Its delicately carved handle was embedded with tiny seed pearls, tortoiseshell, and bits of lapis lazuli stones. The blade and the inlaid handle were polished to a beautiful shine, and the metal had the same look as one of Lucien’s swords.
Seeing her inspect it, he explained. “I had Farouk make it for you for protection. It is crafted from the hand of a master in the finest Damascene steel.”
Gabrielle was too moved to do more than look up in surprise. No one, except her mother, had ever given her a gift. Certainly no one had ever cared enough for her well being to give her something to protect herself with.
Reynald and her father probably would have feared for their safety had she carried such a thing. And rightly so. Their sleep may not have been so healthy.
How fitting that her second gift from Lucien would be a dagger to protect herself with. Only he cared enough. The realization threatened to bring a spill of tears to her eyes.
While she gathered her composure, he handed her a beribboned sheath made of white damask silk. In the company of Nahla and Farouk, he did not explain to her how she could tie the sheath to her thigh and wear the dagger under her clothing. But Gabrielle could tell by the wicked sparkle that flickered briefly in his that he would demonstrate exactly how to wear it later that night after everyone had gone to their beds.
On their way back to the Mansur’s house an hour later, he fell a few steps behind their friends to whisper a meeting time on the roof. Gabrielle gladly accepted the date with him under the stars again, then took the opportunity to gently chastise him for spending his meager funds on her.
“They are not that meager,” he assured her in a low voice. “I have managed to put some coin away, despite the Order’s prohibitions against it. And the dagger is not silver. It is steel, the finest quality steel. It will serve you well over a lifetime, and no one should be without the protection of a weapon in these times. I will teach you how to use it and when to use it. If we should become separated….”
Gabrielle stopped and quickly placed three fingers over his lips. “We will not be separated.”
+++
The following day, Lucien accompanied Gabrielle to the orphanage near the Great Mosque before they went to the main bazaar. It was a risky venture to go with her. While the headmaster and imam knew Gabrielle to be a Christian, they were not too sure what he was. Lucien did not enlighten them. He simply told them he was a friend trying to assist her to make arrangements to transport the orphans from Jerusalem to their new homes in Damascus.
He agreed that traveling at this time was dangerous, but he thought he might be able to quickly get fifty children across the desert to Damascus. Their adoption was why he had arranged these contacts for her, afterall.
Privately, he thought circumstances might permit him to accomplish this for her before war erupted.
After an hour of optimistic planning, they left the orphanage with tentative plans to move the children in three weeks time.
“Did the imam question you about your religion or purpose here?” Gabrielle asked as they walked across town to the main market of Damascus.
Lucien’s grin was full of reckless amusement. “He asked, but I evaded. Then he put me to the test while you were visiting with the headmaster. He asked me to join him in a bit of mid-morning prayer and scripture reading. I guess I passed. He seemed at ease afterward.”
Gabrielle watched him and realized part of him liked what he did. There was a thrill in practicing his deceptive skills. His work for the Order and his king required him to live and move among his enemies with a skill that demanded he perfect every disguise with a level of intelligence and cleverness that must pass the closest inspection or risk exposure.
He enjoyed the challenge, but he also seemed more Arab than Frank now. She could see that he was more comfortable in this culture than he had been as a Templar in Jerusalem.
If not for his Christian heritage, she wondered if he would rather stay here, on this side of the Syrian border.
Most Franks longed to return to their homeland. For Lucien and probably for her, this was their homeland. Gabrielle had never known a different land. She could only imagine what the land of her parents must be like.
She was lost in those thoughts as they finally arrived at the edges of the covered market. It was the largest souk in the city. At noon, the narrow streets were already jammed with buyers and sellers. Lucien and Gabrielle had to elbow their way through the throngs of people. After several attempts to keep her close without touching her, he finally grasped her hand.
“This is more crowded than Jerusalem’s markets,” Gabrielle said to him as they sought to find a less busy section of the street.
Even after living in Jerusalem, the sights and sounds and smells of the Arabian market were
mind-numbingly fascinating. Soldiers and peasants, rich and poor, nobles and commoners alike mingled elbow to elbow. Squawking vendors called out to those walking past. Dirty faced children scampered in and out of the crowd, no doubt looking to pick the pockets of many.
The colorful displays, the diversity of people, and the wealth of languages and cultures were a visual marvel that overloaded the senses. Gabrielle was glad Lucien was by her side, for she would have become hopelessly lost in all the buzz of activity and confusion, the maze of twists and turns.
They passed every imaginable type of good, though most were at least grouped together for some kind of order. They stopped at a date dealer and bought a small bag of candied dates to share as they walked. At the fresh fruit vendor, they bought two succulent peaches and laughed as they tried to control the juice from dribbling down their chin.
They passed by the carpet traders and admired the beautifully woven rugs hanging along the walls or draped over tables. Gold and silver and precious stones glinted in the jewelers’ shop windows. The rich smell of leather permeated the street for a ways. Then came the wonderful aromatic blends of the coffee vendors’ stalls. Gabrielle stopped to sniff a couple of the burlap bags, and Lucien bought them each a small sample of her favorite.
Then came the spicers’ rows. The delicious scent of cinnamon, clove and nutmeg wafted on the occasional breeze. Gabrielle bought a cinnamon stick and shared it with Lucien, breaking it in half and, to his surprise, sticking it in his hot coffee.
He wriggled his nose at the combination, but sampled a taste and seemed to like the variation. His reaction made her laugh, and she realized that she hadn’t laughed this much in a long time. Their turn through the market so far had been a special time together, and Lucien had not once moved away from her to talk to anyone, like he had at the arms market. All of his attention had been focused on her, just like it was when they made love. It was a heady feeling to be treated to such singular attention.
Next, they came upon the incense dealers. The fragrances of frankincense and myrrh replaced that of spices. People paid dearly for the incense that mostly came from faraway Africa from the sticky saps of plants and tree bark. The wealthy used it to make their homes smell sweet, while others used it for religious customs and ceremonies. Business was thriving today for the incense dealers.
Down farther on the street, Gabrielle’s attention was snared by the perfumers’ sector of the market. She guided Lucien toward a small shop that had a display of colored bottles in its glass window. He watched her walk up to the sales person and ask about a particular scent. Being that he had no experience in the area, he listened to her exact request in fascination.
A short Arab who introduced himself as the proprietor came out of the backroom, followed by his employee. He carried four small bottles of scent and set them gently on the counter. Gabrielle took the stoppers off of each one in turn and sniffed. Afterward, she discarded two and dabbed a tiny amount on her wrist of the other two, one on each arm.
She turned to Lucien and held up one wrist at a time, asking his opinion. He laughed, unable to decide and knowing nothing of their contents, other than that they smelled heavenly on her.
She gave him a chastising smile, but seemed to know her mind on the matter, so he left her to decide. When she turned back to the proprietor, she lifted the bottle she was interested in, then set it aside to look at a selection of bathing soaps. She sniffed several and finally settled on one that she pointed out to the little Arab merchant.
Lucien stood several steps behind her as she haggled over the price of the two items.
The perfume was costly, despite its small size. Lucien wondered if she even had brought that much coin with her. When she shook her head negatively at the merchant’s final price and started to turn toward the door, Lucien reached into the pocket of his over-robe for his coin purse.
Gabrielle stopped him with a hand on his forearm and a resolute shake of her veiled head. They were at the exit when the merchant relented and called her back. Before she turned, she smiled at Lucien. “I will pay for this,” she whispered.
Her price had been met and the proprietor carefully wrapped both items in a sheath of vellum. Then he tied each with a piece of twine. Gabrielle thanked him with a smile and left the shop clutching both purchases.
“You are a shrewd haggler,” Lucien applauded her outside on the street. “Remind me never to negotiate with you, lady.”
Gabrielle handed him the little square package. “This is for you.” She untied the twine and opened the wrapping just enough so he could smell her gift.
The scent of the soap was different from any he had used. It had a heady spicy fragrance that titillated the senses and lingered in the air.
“It’s a blend of exotic Oriental spices that I thought would smell irresistible on you. Complex, like you are Lucien de Aubric,” she told him as her feelings for him danced in her deep blue eyes.
He took one more whiff, then re-wrapped the bar of soap. “You should not have spent your money on me, but I think you, Gabi.” He name was said in a low husky tone; intimately spoken despite the crowd that swelled all around them.
Before he could put it into the pocket of his robe, she took it back from him. “Let me carry it for you until we get back to the Mansurs. You must only smell that good for me. I do not every woman on this street staring after you.”
Lucien threw back his head and laughed, then looked down at her. “Let me smell the perfume you decided on. I want to see if it is the one I might have chosen.”
She unwrapped her vial of scent, pulled out the stopper, and let him sniff. “It is blended from the oil of jasmine flowers, with a touch of rose and a hint of clove.”
Lucien dipped his head close to hers. “I look forward to smelling it on you tonight, my love. Be wearing that and nothing else when you join me on the rooftop at midnight.”
“We have aroused no suspicions, have we, Lucien?”
“None that I have discerned.”
Gabrielle furtively caught his hand in the folds of his robes “While I have enjoyed today immensely, I find myself impatient for midnight.”
“No more impatient that I, sweet Gabi.”
She looked up into his clear dark eyes and saw herself reflected in them. “Will it always be like this between us?”
He cursed the veil and the customs that would not let him lift it to kiss her. “I believe it will be, my lady.”
“How wondrous!” she exclaimed with a final squeeze of his large, battle scarred hand.
When she went to disentangle her fingers from his, he refused to release her. Keeping their bodies close to hide any public display of their affection, they headed down the street.
“A very large caravan from the Persian Gulf has just arrived in the city. They were carrying goods from as far away as China and every place in between. The silk buyers are ecstatic. I have seen some of their extraordinary goods and I’d like you to see them.”
Gabrielle laughed. What woman would not want to look upon newly arrived silk from the Orient? At Tiberius, it had been very difficult to refrain from purchasing any of the fabulous fabric Lady Eschiva and her daughters-by-law had. As they neared the silk vendors, it appeared every woman in the city was already assembled before the stalls and shops. Groups of them, veiled in all shades of color, thronged around the tables, lifting and touching, haggling over the price of the costly fabric with the silk merchants.
Lucien cut a path for them through the crowd until Gabrielle found herself standing in front of a table with the sheerest, finest silk she had ever seen. With a nod to the vendor, Lucien was handed a length of material that took her breath away. The exquisite fabric was a deep rich purple silk that had been vibrantly hand-painted with royal blue birds-of-paradise. The flowers were meticulously embroidered around the edges with shiny gold thread. It was the perfect length for a head scarf, long enough to drape over her shoulders and half of her face, sheer enough to see through.
/> Gabrielle fingered it wondrously as Lucien held it out to it, knowing it would cost a small fortune. With a sigh of regret, she pressed it back into his hands so he could set it back on the table. Instead Lucien handed it to the merchant and told him to wrap it.
There wasn’t even any haggling as he brought his coin purse out of his robe.
Gabrielle laid a hand on his to stop him. “No, it is much too costly. You mustn’t spend your money it. You have given me enough already.”
Lucien simply smiled at her and proceeded with the transaction. Afterward, he guided her to a spot near a long alley that was blessedly devoid of people.
“Put it on for me, please.”
His request was husky and insistent. Gabrielle removed the headscarf she was wearing and replaced it with the beautiful violet one he had bought her. She looked at his face as she draped it across hers. He was staring at her so intently it fired her blood.
“Beyond words!” he whispered with a slow intake of breath. “The color makes your eyes sparkle like the Mediterranean, just as I knew it would.”
Those eyes widened in surprise. “You had this pre-arranged? You picked out the silk before we came?”
He grinned guiltily. “I know that particular merchant. He is a regular in my network. But we are friends, also. When I told him about you, he showed me that material, and I knew instantly it would look incredible on you.”
“You have given me too many gifts.”
“Only three, and the dagger doesn’t count as a gift. It was a necessity.” He smiled down at her beautiful veiled face. “As was the night shift.”
“This was too costly.”
“My friend gave me a good deal on it. It was affordable.” When he saw her begin to make another protest, he added, “Shall I take it back?”
With a horrified look, she shook her head. “No! But let me pay at for it.”
“It is a gift, my sweet love. Wear it today so that I may enjoy seeing you in it, then put it away and keep it for our wedding.”
“Oh, Lucien, I want to kiss you right now.”
