by Traci E Hall
“Oui.” Dominus leaped from the top of the loft to a mound of hay, bouncing up to his feet. “What is it?”
“That was impressive,” Everard said.
He brushed the hay from his healing scalp. “We had a large family and lots of horses to pull the fish into market. My father kept tossing bastards so he wouldn’t have to pay the serfs. We all took part in the running of the place.”
“That is one way to go about it, I suppose,” Everard said.
“It served—until I was old enough to become a squire and earn my knighthood. Far from the ocean.”
“I suppose you were not the oldest? Since you were able to leave.”
The duke title would bind him to the estate, despite his desire to live away from the family. “I was not.” Now he was the only one left. “Did you have a question?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I asked the commander if you could train with the other knights. He said no.”
Dominus had reasoned as much. “Why?”
“He said you are not disciplined enough.”
“Hmph.” Nobody had ever accused him of being lazy. Not even his father, who expected a man to pull his own weight and his brother’s.
“It sounded like a lie to me.” Everard puffed out his chest. “Against the Templar code.”
“I am sure he had a good reason.” If only I knew what it was.
“I learned from my sisters that when one of them told a fib, if I waited long enough they would either add to the lie to make it more convincing or they would confess.” Everard grinned. “The commander is not the sort of man to confess.”
Dominus crossed his arms and nodded, his respect for the younger man growing.
“He said that you have problems with obeying orders. Which I happen to know is not true at all. I’ve watched you. You could lead men or be led, whatever the situation warranted.”
Dominus dipped his head. He supposed he had his father to thank for something, after all. Knowing how to work in a unit or as a leader was necessary when managing a large household, a village, or a group of armed men in battle.
“After the commander left, I asked some questions from a few of the secular knights, those who would not be oath-bound to Bartholomew and the Templar House.”
“Smart.” Dominus tapped the side of his head. “What did they say?”
“They told me that the army is being trained specifically to retake Edessa with the least men possible.”
In the event Louis chose to travel toward Jerusalem, Raymond would still attack. The man was relentless. “Sounds like a dangerous plan.”
“From what I gathered, there is a secret rendezvous scheduled in the next few days. I will try to be part of it.”
“Why would you do that?” Dominus asked, filled with concern. “I can see no good coming from it.”
“It seems to me that there is a rotten fish in the barrel. I am not the sort of man to look the other direction.”
Dominus clasped Everard’s shoulder, wishing he had the right to share what he knew. “We must talk. Later, my friend. I urge you toward caution. Do not agree to any battle unsanctioned by the king.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dominus made his way down the terraced mountain, dressed in plain brown robes and a hooded cloak. He had to hide his tonsured head, but the heat was stifling and made him dizzy.
Time was of the essence. He had to send word to the bishop about the army Bartholomew was putting together and his plans to take on Edessa without the aid of the French and German soldiers.
He knew that Bartholomew slept for two hours after breakfast, since he’d patrolled a night shift. This gave him very little time to make it to Tallow’s and speak with Mamie before the bells rang at noon.
He slid down another embankment. “How do animals do this?” Sharp rocks dug into the soles of his boots. His leggings had a tear behind the knee, and he dripped with sweat. He probably smelled worse than a mountain goat.
He reached the back end of the market place and stopped at a fountain to drink. He splashed handfuls of water on his face and wished he could jump in the river and cool off entirely.
“Tallow’s.” He found the shop front without issue. The same florid Englishman stood outside. With a dubious look at his state of dress, the man brought him to the back.
“Can I pour you an ale?”
Dominus unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “I will gladly pay you double.”
The man chuckled, filling a mug from a small keg on the counter. “Our friend pays well enough.” He passed the foamy brew and reached over Dominus’s head.
“Merci.” The yeasty scent was enough to bring the saliva back to his mouth. “Beau coup.”
“Welcome.” He retrieved the box, and lifted out two more letters.
“A moment alone, my friend.”
The man left, pulling the heavy curtain closed behind him.
He drank his ale, cooling his throat, and broke the first seal. He quickly read the bishop’s neatly penned message. Do not allow a rebellion. “And how am I supposed to do that, exactly?” Dominus muttered.
How did he know?
Dominus picked up the next letter, foolishly hoping there might be a note from Meggie. He’d asked her to send word through the bishop only if it was important. They’d missed him enough to want him home, she’d said. How could they miss him? The other letter was also from the bishop. “It is imperative that the royal pair stay united all the way to Jerusalem.” The name of the holy city was underlined with heavy scratches. He knew if he did not finish his quest, the bishop would hold the deed to the duchy.
“God’s teeth.” He thought of burning the letters but then realized he might need them as proof. Glad the commander had not triggered the latch in the heel of his boot before, Dominus folded the papers as tight as they would go and put them there for safekeeping. He would not give the commander cause to look again.
He knocked on the wall, and the man put his head in. “Aye?”
“I would like to pen a response.”
“Pen and paper are in that drawer. We have a ship going to France this afternoon.”
“Thank you.”
Dominus wrote of the army and the status of the royal marriage and started to fold the letter. Then he scribbled a postscript, asking the bishop to send someone to Brochard to see if Meggie was all right. He sealed the missive and handed it to the Englishman.
The Englishman tucked it into his apron. “Now that the weather is calm, we get ships from France every few days.”
“I will return.” Dominus left the shop and took another long drink from the fountain before facing the mountain trail.
“Hellfire and brimstone.” As he looked up at the rocky, uneven terrain, he was tempted to turn back. Instead, he thought of Mamie waiting for him beneath the olive trees, and he climbed one step at a time.
He paused at the cistern outside the bathhouse, dunking his head and drinking from the fresh water pool. He stripped off his cloak, leaving him in his brown robe. He needed a bath.
A whistle sounded to his right.
Cautious, he looked that direction.
“Meet me at the bottom of the hill,” Mamie said, hidden by the trees. “On the road toward Daphne. I have a horse for you. And refreshment.”
The idea of leaving the cool shade was agony, but he would do it for Mamie. He would do anything to spend time with her.
“We should speak somewhere private,” she whispered.
He gestured to the canopy of olive branches, hoping nobody was nearby. They would think he was talking to himself.
“More private. I want to return to the grove.”
“I cannot be gone that long,” Dominus said with regret. Noon bells had to be ringing soon. He’d felt the direct position of the sun on his covered head the entire climb up the mountain. But the idea of being alone in the grove with Mamie made him question whether or not the punishment would be worth the crime. The memory of their kiss
heated him from within.
“Everard told me,” she said as seductively as a courtesan, “that Commander Bartholomew has been called away to the monastery at Saint Symeon. He will be gone until dark.”
“Everard told you that?” Enormous relief descended on Dominus. He would find a way to thank the young knight. Which meant he and Mamie would have the chance to be alone. He splashed more water on his face, cooling himself down as best he could, accepting it was a hopeless cause.
“Oui. He is a good man.” The fact that he could not see her through the trees added a layer of temptation. “Will you come?”
He nodded, his mouth dry once more. The devil could not have torn him away at that moment.
Mamie was not certain what prodded her to be so bold—except that it was in her nature to be so. She’d been thinking about the fact Dominus was not married, not a Templar, to the point of distraction. She dreamed of him, of his hands and mouth. When Everard found her with his message about the commander, she knew it was an opportunity.
A gift.
Fate? Fortune?
She stole glances at Dominus as they rode in silence to Daphne’s Grove. He rode his horse well. Straight-backed, with an easy gait. His Roman profile and simple robe made him timeless within the ancient grove. It was a magical place imbued with love and passion. What they felt, the desire between them, would be magnified within the protected glade.
“Are you certain, Mamie?” Dominus asked as they neared the shaded grove. “It is not too late to turn back.”
“It was too late as soon as I learned that your commander would be gone for the day. I am unashamedly going to seduce you,” Mamie said with a sultry laugh. “What do you give up, being here with me?” She dismounted, tying Bahi loosely to a tree before unpacking the bags she’d brought.
“You are worth any risk. I am doing the bishop’s will. He asked me to follow the rules the best I could. But, Mamie, I am only a man, and you . . .” He jumped from his horse and captured her mouth for a kiss. “You are a goddess.”
She pushed him back, handing him a bag and a rolled blanket. “Remember that later,” she said. “I do not want you to be inundated with guilt once the deed is done. No remorse, only pleasure. Mine and yours.”
Her words excited him, she could see by the wildly beating pulse at his neck. His arousal fueled hers, and it was all she could do to keep her hands to herself.
“I have learned that regret serves nothing.” His eyes smoldered, and she swallowed hard.
It had been a very long time since she’d been with a lover, and while Mamie enjoyed the dance, she felt a hesitation too. This was different with Dominus, because she cared for him. How to keep her heart from getting broken?
“What?” He asked, his voice gruff as if he sensed her hesitation. “I will not hurt you.”
“Not on purpose, I know.” She gave him one of her practiced smiles. “Will I hurt you?” she teased.
“I can handle anything you want to give. Where would you like to begin?”
She liked his ready answer that he would be willing to play.
“Should I set the blanket down, where we were before?” he asked. His gaze was steady, his mouth on the edge of a smile.
“I have a secret place in mind. Behind the waterfall. If you do not mind getting a little wet first?”
“I prefer it.”
Mamie tossed her hair to the side and laughed, the sound releasing some of the energy caught inside. “I need you, Dominus.” She turned toward the stream and the waterfall, pausing at the edge of the bank, where she sat on the grass. Aware of his gaze on her lower legs, Mamie made sure to take her time removing her shoes.
Lifting the hem of her gown to her knees, she bunched the fabric at her thigh. Ladies’ feet and ankles were something of a mystery, deemed erotic by the church for who knew what reason. They were taboo. His blue eyes darkened as he took in the shape of her calf.
Mamie closed her eyes, smoothing her hands in a slow caress from the tips of her stockinged toes up the seam to the tie at the dimple of her knee. Using the lightest amount of pressure, she tugged at the string and, as if she had all the time in the world, rolled the silk stocking back down her calf, baring her skin an inch at a time. The cool air against her flesh was like a kiss.
She opened her eyes at Dominus’s audible swallow; then the next thing she knew, he was in the stream up to his waist and standing before her as she sat on the bank.
“Let me do the next one,” he said, his eyes so dark blue she could hardly see the pupils.
His hands were hot as they lifted her silk-covered toes, kissing them through the cloth. Mamie’s belly clenched with need at the titillating touch.
“You must be freezing,” she breathed.
“The cold water is all that is keeping me from ravaging you as you sit.”
She met his gaze, and he cupped her heel, using his thumb to trace circles across her feet and up to her ankle. Ravage me, she thought, delighting in his firm caress. He slipped his large hand around the curve of her calf as gently as if he handled a falcon. His focus never left her face as he pulled the string and slowly rolled her silk stocking down. Each roll brought a circular stroke that made her touch-starved body cry in want.
“You have started something, Dominus, that you had better finish.”
“Never doubt me,” he said. He brought her feet to the stream, wrapping his hands around her ankles. The hold was firm, comforting. “You should take off your gown before you get in.”
“Your robe is wet.” She reached for his shoulder. “If I don’t touch you soon, Dominus, I will die.”
“I can take it off too.” He shrugged the robe off, wearing a thin shirt beneath. He tossed them both to the bank. “Your turn.”
Mamie cared little for anyone coming in, but she wanted him to see the private grotto. She’d barely glimpsed it before, but somehow she knew it would be perfect for them. Secluded. Shaded. Protected.
“The blanket and the bag. If you could cross to the other side, near the waterfall? There is a place . . .”
He did not question her further but pulled himself, bare-chested and in wet breeches, from the stream to get their things. He carried them high overhead, giving her a view of his muscled torso. Thin—they all were, due to their quest—his lean, muscled body moved with a warrior’s grace.
“Where?” he asked.
She started to get in, to show him, but he shook his head.
“Wait there.” He crossed the stream, passed from her view by the waterfall, then came wading back for her.
He held out his arms, and she felt like the most treasured woman in the world as he cuddled her close to his chest. “You are warm,” she said, putting her hand on his heart. The rapid beat reassured her that all of this was real.
“You make me burn.”
His long strides against the current let her feel the strength of his thighs. She moved her fingers slowly up to the tight brown nipple within reach. His feet slipped, and she murmured against his throat. “Careful.”
“We shall see who needs to be careful,” he growled.
They reached the waterfall, and Mamie pulled Dominus down for a kiss. “I cannot wait anymore,” she said, breathing in his taste before capturing his warm mouth in hers. The soft texture of his lips was a surprise, the water from the splashing falls surrounding them like rain. She drank him, sipped from him, his mouth learning hers too.
He took her behind the falls, to a shaded rock ledge. He set her down on the smooth, nature-formed bench, and she cradled his hips as he stood between her legs. Her dress, bunched now to her waist, was in the way, and she tried to pull it off. Dominus would not release her shoulder. Instead, he brought her closer, pinning her arm to the side. “I have waited for you,” he said, “for so long.”
“What do you mean?”
The fringe of his hair curled above his brows, his nose prominent on his wet face. His eyes blazed. “Every man that you flirted with, that you smiled a
t—I wanted to throw them to the Turks.” His hand caressed her cheek.
Mamie’s body burned with longing. “I did not know.” She burrowed into his touch. “Kiss me,” she said, lifting her chin.
He bent, conquering her lips with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. Mamie’s breasts were heavy with passion, and she thrust her chest forward. “Take off this cursed dress, would you?”
The fury in his eyes abated, and he helped her slip the gown over her head. He tossed the fabric in a puddle.
“There is only you,” she promised. Her nipples beneath the wet, sheer chemise had tightened and Dominus’s gaze widened with hunger. “You, Dominus, and me.”
He leaned down, suckling her breast through the fabric. Mamie could not help the moan that escaped her lips. His hands gripped her knees, circling their way toward the juncture of her thighs. She was on fire, and if he did not touch her soon—
Ah. She jumped, trembled. His fingers slid along her curls, pressing against her inner folds. He paused at the place that hummed with desire, hovering, waiting.
“You are ready for me?”
“I have been ready,” she whispered.
He flicked his fingers lightly against her, and she trembled with anticipation. Entwining her hands around the back of his neck, she nibbled at his lower lip. She scooted to the edge of the bench and reached down for Dominus. She had to touch, had to feel him for herself.
His breeches, soaked cloth meant to shield his manhood, were as problematic as her gown had been. “I need my knife,” she said, determined to get them off.
“Wait,” he said, sliding them down his hips and throwing them toward her gown.
His lower body, mostly hidden by water, met hers at the edge of the bench. Mamie knew that she would never feel this alive again. The water splashed, the waves caressed, the air brushed their naked skin. His strong shaft lifted, and she moved forward until his cock touched her welcoming entrance. He held back.
She met his gaze, her entire body pulsing with need. He waited, nudging her with the tip of his manhood, teasing her until tears of yearning slipped from her eyes. “Dominus,” she said, “please.”
