by Traci E Hall
With one powerful stroke he slid inside her, and it was as if he had been created especially for her. Every feeling multiplied, her insides alight with pleasure she’d never known—and she had experienced her share.
He rocked forward, drew back, and moved inside her again. She grasped his shoulders, hanging on for her life, though if she had died at that moment, it would have been heaven.
Faster, he pumped, harder. He buried his shout in the fall of her hair at her shoulder. She trembled around him, holding him close. Not wanting to ever let him go. And just how was she supposed to keep her heart undamaged by something as powerful as this?
He shivered in her arms, and she kissed his forehead. “You are cold, Dominus. Let us get into the sun.”
“I do not want to leave you.”
She laughed. “Then walk with me through the water. We will clean one another and then get out and dry.”
Dominus had never felt so close to another human being. A woman. He cupped her head in one hand and brought her mouth to his. Her lips, pliant and soft, met his in a passionate kiss.
“I have never had a woman want to cut my breeches off before.”
She traced his nipple with a feathery light touch, her head against his shoulder. “I have never been so impatient that I wanted to do so. You made me feel, well, like I was flying. Soaring, Dominus, above the clouds.”
He held her close, her legs wrapped around his hips as he walked them through the waterfall. Mamie sputtered water, her curly hair falling down straight. Her eyes, surrounded by spiky copper lashes, glistened. He saw love in them and wondered at how that could be.
She was a lady, a woman of the world, a member of the queen’s guard. How could she ever love someone like him?
Laughing, she pushed at his chest until he released her, and she grabbed his arm until she found her balance.
“This way,” she said, her long hair trailing behind her.
He went back beneath the falls for their clothes. “We might need these again,” he said.
“I brought dry things. Lady Hortencia warned me from the start that people tend to get in the water around here.”
Dominus followed Mamie, delectable and naked and wet, to the bank.
“You first,” she said, eyeing his backside.
“I have never had so much fun while making love,” he said, pulling himself up with his arms, then twisting around to sit on the edge.
“It seems that we will have many firsts between us.” She held out her hand, and he lifted her up the side of the bank.
Comfortable in her nudity, Mamie brushed the grass from her knees and walked to the bag he’d brought over earlier. Following her example, he went to the rolled blanket and whipped it out flat along the grass. The area was like a small tent framed with laurel trees, tall enough to stand in, stretch up, and touch the branches.
She knelt on the blanket, getting cups and a flagon from the bag. Cheese, bread, olives, and wine.
“What more can a man ask for?” he said, spreading his arms wide as he knelt opposite her on the blanket. He tried not to stare, but his gaze was drawn to Mamie’s beautiful body, pale and lightly dusted from head to toe in golden freckles. When she leaned forward, she did not seem to mind that her breasts brushed the goblet.
He did not mind at all. He drained his cup and asked for another.
Her long, slender legs tucked beneath her. Her trim torso and full chest met well-defined arms and strong shoulders. Her hair, damp and loose, fell to the blanket in curls. The drier her hair got, the tighter the coil.
He looked at her face and caught her knowing smile. She shrugged. “I have been looking at you too,” she admitted with a laugh. “What happened there?” Mamie leaned across the blanket to kiss the old break on his nose. “Drunken brawl?”
“Nothing so glorious,” he said, feeling his shoulders tighten. “My father tried to convince me not to leave home.”
She sat back on her heels, as comfortable as if she wore the finest gown. “Not the way to go about it.”
“I left anyway.”
“I am sorry,” she said.
There was something that happened between lovers that enabled them to feel more than what was said. He knew he was open to her, but instead of closing up like a sea creature poked with a stick, he willed himself still.
She reached across the blanket to examine him, her fingers soft as she caressed the ridge. It was not the long-ago broken bone but the action behind it that left a lingering ache. Mamie seemed to understand that, and her caress relieved the sting. “How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“A boy on the verge of manhood.” She laughed softly. “How brave to stand up for yourself so young.”
“It was that or die.”
“Does any of this have to do with Meggie?”
He closed his eyes, pushing his fists onto his knees. Meggie was another kettle of fish.
“Sh,” she said, suddenly at his side. Her bare skin touched his, firing his blood. She traced her fingers up one of his thighs.
He opened his eyes. “Meggie is a girl from the village that one of my brothers married. At least he married her. She was a smart one, pretty. Wouldn’t give more than a kiss without a promise. . . My brothers are all dead now.”
“What happened?”
“The plague came, off the ocean breeze. Instead of succoring my family, as it has done for centuries, it killed them. My father, my brothers, their women. Dead. Leaving their children behind. Meggie survived because she was visiting her mother at a neighboring village.”
“Dominus,” she said, pain strident in her tones, “all of them?”
“Seven brothers, five women. God only knows how many children taken.”
She pulled back but kept her hand on his thigh. Her face was pale with emotion, as if she had a personal stake in his tale. “And Meggie is the one to care for the children that remain?”
“While I do the bishop’s bidding.” His voice sounded sour, and he shook his head, wanting only honesty between them here.
“My family owed him a very great debt, and he is forgiving the loan in return for my year of service. I accepted, gladly, never knowing how I would love you—from afar. I tried, Mamie. To keep my distance.” His eyes burned. “But I wanted you. You touched my heart. I am not like my father. My brothers. I wanted a woman to be my mate, and I found her in you. And when I thought you would jump to your death? God.” He pounded his chest, then covered her trembling fingers with his palm.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. Bright green, wet with compassion.
“I had to break the rules and go to you.”
“I would not have jumped. Well, perhaps not. I was so angry at Sarah, and she was dead. There was nothing I could do! I know she did not want to be a mother, but I . . .” She rocked backward, away from him, as if ashamed. Mamie pressed her hand to her mouth and tears sped from her eyes. “I am barren,” she said in a gritty voice. “Worthless woman, according to your church.”
“Not mine!” He held his hands up. “I am playing a part, and while I agree with much of what the Templars do, I cannot espouse a hatred—or disrespect—for what women mean to our society.” He pulled her to him, disliking the inches apart. “I am not a Templar. I am a man. And I happen to love you, with all of my misguided heart.”
If he expected tears of gratitude for his declaration, he was to be disappointed.
“Love?” She jumped to her feet, her hips cradling copper curls at eye level. “Nobody said anything about love. You mistake passion and lust for a deeper emotion.”
He felt passion and lust, but he knew the difference. Dominus sensed Mamie was not ready to hear the truth. His body leaped to attention, and he grabbed her by the thigh, bringing his temptation closer to his mouth. “We have spent enough time talking.” He blew against the curls, and she shivered, dropping back to her knees. Her eyes glazed over, and he kissed her until she forgot all about love.
His Mamie preferred less talk and more touching. A lesson to remember.
Later, he cradled her head against his arm as tendrils of sun penetrated the laurel trees.
“You are an amazing woman,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He put one hand on her flat belly. “You feel unworthy, and I challenge you to think differently. The men you’ve married . . . fourteen?”
She laughed and placed a hand over his. “Three.”
“They should have cared for you better.” He waited to see how she took his pronouncement and then continued when she didn’t argue. “You are vibrant and colorful and passionate. A rare bird, perhaps. You deserve more than to be weighed down by children. You fly free instead of tethered, as most women do.”
She pushed his hand away, her hair smacking his face as she sat up quickly. “Why do you speak that way?”
“It is the truth.” He realized something had shifted between them but did not understand what went wrong. Dominus also sat up, reaching for her, but she pulled back. “You belong in Eleanor’s court, living each day to the fullest. It has been difficult, this journey, but once it is over, you will have your luxuries again. Velvets and jewels.” Things he did not have to offer, despite his title. He loved her but knew he could not keep her. “Once we reach Jerusalem, everyone will be happy.”
She pushed his shoulder, her mouth white. “You are an idiot. Eleanor is not happy. Going to Jerusalem will not make her happy. You have to go. You are sworn to the bishop! I will stay with Eleanor, wherever she is.”
“What does that mean?” Dominus, in a kneeling position, leaned back on his calves.
Mamie clamped her lips together, got to her feet, and walked to her bag. She pulled out a dry gown and slipped it over her head. “We have to leave.”
“I know you love me,” Dominus shouted.
Mamie shook her head. “Love means nothing in the face of duty.”
“How can you say that?”
“You cannot deny it, Dominus. You have spent the last year pretending to be someone you are not, all for duty. You do not speak of your family with love. You do not cherish them. You resent them.”
Stunned at her accusation, he tried to defend himself, but the words wouldn’t come.
Mamie packed up their things, tossing a dry brown robe his way. “You might want to wait until we cross to put it on.”
She held her gown at her waist and stepped into the icy water without a backward glance.
Done. He’d had his chance to win her heart, and instead he’d made her mad. Not just mad—offended. How? He’d honored her freedom, letting her know he would never tether her or tie her down.
“What of Eleanor?” he asked, splashing into the cold water. His teeth chattered. She moved smoothly across the stream and pulled herself up the other side, demurely covering her body with her gown.
“Eleanor is mine to protect.”
It took a moment to pull his heart from his head and focus on what Mamie said and not on her walking away as if he were a discarded lover. “If she does not go to Jerusalem with the king, everything will be for naught!”
She held up a hand, her voice as cold as the rushing water behind him. “Enough, Dominus. You and I have had our fun. I do not want to see you again.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mamie returned the horses to the stable. Her body was satiated, but her heart was troubled and filled with doubt. How could Dominus be so cold?
Intrigue and drama. She walked toward the courtyard.
Fay stopped her before she went inside. “Mamie, mon chéri. How was the marketplace? I thought you were going to wait for me and Bo to join you.” Fay looped an arm through Mamie’s.
Fay had aided in her preparations for seducing Dominus, so something else was going on.
Mamie played along. “I would not have shopped without you. It would be no fun.” She cleared her throat. “I went to the river to clear my head. I would have asked you, but I know that even looking at the ships makes you sick.”
Fay shivered. “I am glad I stayed here. I came up with a new tumbling move as I was juggling earlier. I wonder if I could combine a back flip with tossing three oranges in the air.”
Mamie allowed Fay to guide her toward the trail leading to the bench overlooking the city. “Really? I would love to see that.”
“It will take practice.” Fay squeezed her arm, and they walked so fast it was almost a run.
“I will help. You know I will.” Mamie could not even imagine such a spectacle. “What will we, er—?”
“Sh.” Fay pulled her quickly down a side trail, hiding behind a thorny cliff-rose bush. She put a finger to her lips and pointed.
Within a few heartbeats, Thierry slinked past, glancing from left to right.
Waiting until he was gone, Fay cursed beneath her breath. “Things have gone sour as curdled milk,” she said, her voice a harsh whisper as she stared down the trail. “Constance glared at everyone through dinner and did not even bother to come to supper.”
Mamie’s blood cooled. “Do you think they told the king what I overheard earlier?”
“Eleanor was alone, writing letters behind a locked door all afternoon. She said she was not feeling well.”
“I am so sorry. I should have been there,” Mamie said. Doing her duty, instead of lying with Dominus, who claimed to love her but then didn’t want her.
“Let me finish. It gets worse.”
“How?”
“Eleanor and Louis were arguing at the table. She finally left, in tears. But there were tears in the king’s eyes too.” Fay grimaced. “We should just go and forget Edessa. Forget Jerusalem. We should return to Paris.”
Her stomach knotted. She empathized with Louis. And the queen. “Do not let our queen hear you say that. I imagine that all this turmoil has made it seem like Edessa is the only option open to her, where she can be free.”
Fay put a hand to her mouth. “You know, I think you might be right. Mother of Mercy, this is terrible. And I don’t know what to do.”
Mamie put an arm around her friend. “I am sorry I wasn’t here.”
“No, you are not.” Fay sniffed.
Things had ended terribly for her and Dominus, but she did not regret a moment of their lovemaking. He’d been right. She cared for him. She’d been right. It did not matter. She turned and met Fay’s gaze. Both of them still crouched behind the flowering bush. “How can I help?”
“I tried talking to Eleanor, but she had locked us all from the suite. Even Larissa is banished to the hall.”
“I can pry open the door if we need to.” Mamie withdrew her dagger.
“The journey has been hard for everyone. She is just tired.” Fay whispered, “She looks at Raymond as if he rules the world. I tried to warn her, but she got angry with me. We’ve never argued before now. I don’t know how to reach her.”
“Let’s go try.”
“All right. But if I see Odo or Thierry once more this night, following me around, waiting for something to use against Eleanor, then I might be tempted to run them through.”
Fay’s angelic face wore a layer of righteous determination that made Mamie pause. “Now you really look like Nemesis. Goddess of justice, from the mosaic in the hall? All you need are the scales in one hand. You already have the sword.”
The two women waited a few minutes, and their patience was rewarded by Thierry making his way back up the path to the palace. He wore a curious expression, his eyes down.
“He is wondering where we went.” Mamie stared at the eunuch’s back. He hunched rather than walked, as if burdened.
“I loathe him,” Fay said. “He has the power to deliver the queen a death blow. I will stop him, if it is not too late.”
Mamie got up from her crouch, her legs sore, and brushed the dirt from her gown. “Come. Let us discover what harm has been done and plan from there.”
They walked to the palace and up the wide marble stairs to the second-floor suite. Larissa sat
outside on a stool, her sewing basket next to her.
Mamie and Fay knelt down so they were at eye level.
“Anything?” Fay asked.
“The occasional sniffle.” Larissa’s mouth turned downward. “I do not understand what happened. She will not do anything but mutter and mumble.” She lowered her voice. “She sent for the king.”
“King Louis is in there?” Mamie exchanged a hopeful glance with Fay. If they were talking instead of arguing . . .
“He is at prayers.” She stabbed the needle though the fabric. “He sent word that he will meet with her in the morning.” Pull, stitch, loop. “So then she said she was busy.” Knot. “All of it, games.”
Mamie tried to open the door, but it was still locked. She gave a series of taps on the wood. “It is me—Mamie. Are you all right, my queen?”
A shuffling sounded on the opposite side, and then they all heard a click as the lock was released. Larissa rose from her stool, and Fay opened the door.
The three women went inside. A single oil lamp burned against the dark, casting eerie shadows along the wall.
Eleanor, eyes puffy, held her head high. Silence reverberated as they all took stock of one another.
“How are you?” Mamie asked.
“I am very unhappy.” Eleanor gave a tired laugh. “There is nothing you can do to make me happy, so do not even try.” Her eyes welled. “Holy Mary, have mercy. My eyes are broken. They will not stop leaking.”
Fay burst into tears, throwing her arms around her cousin and holding tight. She leaned her head back, ensuring she had Eleanor’s attention. “I am sorry we argued.”
“As am I, my sturdy Daisy.” Eleanor sniffed and stepped back, keeping one hand on Fay’s shoulder. “I am overwrought. This Crusade has been beset by bad luck.” She brought a handkerchief to her cheeks. “I see how we could attain victory so clearly! Yet my husband, my husband, does not. Instead, he listens to his advisors who have not been guiding him well. How can he be so blind?”
She squeezed her fist around the fabric. “Determined to gain absolution instead of win the battle against Nur ad-Din. Do you understand what besting the Turks would do for our army’s morale? Knights and soldiers—the few we have left—are miserable. And Louis does not know how to rally them. I could do it.”
