‘Not this way,’ he said, his voice husky with need. Her body was pliant and willing to obey his commands as he rolled her onto her stomach. ‘I promise you this will be good, my love. Crouch for me on your hands and knees.’
He had never taken her this way before but she made no protest and did as he asked. As he positioned himself behind her, she glanced invitingly back over her shoulder at him and waggled her perfect heart-shaped buttocks.
Stephen made a strangled sound, consumed by an overwhelming need for this woman. Everything else receded: the interior of the tent, the noise of the trebuchets pounding the city walls, all the familiar noises of the camp. All he could hear was his own laboured breathing and his heart pounding out of control in his chest. Carefully he positioned himself, easing his cock slowly into her vagina.
‘Push harder,’ she begged, pressing her buttocks provocatively back against his invading flesh. Unable to hold onto his sanity a moment longer, he rammed his shaft inside her, hearing her soft gasp of surprise at how deeply he had penetrated her, perhaps deeper than ever before.
‘I’ll not hurt you.’ He slid one arm around her waist, while his other hand reached for her breasts, which dangled temptingly downwards, easily within his reach. He caressed them roughly as he began to thrust, pumping into her, grinding his hips in circles to increase the sensations they were both experiencing. Edwina arched back against him, panting slightly as his thrusts became harder and faster, the tempo increasing as he felt his pleasure begin to grow and peak.
The tension built even more strongly inside him as his fingers pulled teasingly at her nipples. ‘Touch me, down there,’ she begged and he reached downwards, his searching fingers seeking out the small bud of her clitoris. He drove harder, the heavy weight of his testicles slapping against her creamy buttocks as he touched the bud, teasing and tantalising it with steadily mounting pressure. He felt her body quiver beneath his and thrust even harder, increasing the stimulation on her clit until he felt her come, her insides contracting around his cock in powerful waves.
After her climax, she went limp, just managing to weakly gasp his name. At that self-same moment he peaked too, with a pleasure so intense that his entire world was shaken by the strength of his orgasm.
Armand de Mirabel slunk silently into Guy’s tent.
‘No one saw you come in here, I hope?’ Guy de Lusignan asked anxiously as he caught sight of the intruder.
‘I was careful, as I always am.’ Armand’s manner changed when he saw that Guy was alone. Walking over to the table, he casually helped himself to a goblet of wine.
Guy stiffened resentfully. Armand had no respect for his king, always making himself at home here without even a ‘by your leave’. Yet he dare not complain about his attitude. Armand was stubborn and could just as well refuse to continue helping him and give all his loyalty to the Lionheart instead.
‘Sit,’ Guy said before Armand could do so without asking permission. ‘How fares Richard?’ he asked as he flung himself down on the nearest chair and stared enquiringly at his young visitor.
‘He is all but recovered so I am told.’ Armand said, taking the chair opposite Guy.
Guy couldn’t help noticing that Armand grimaced when he took a sip of the wine, but he tactfully did not point out that it was uncommonly sour. All Guy’s decent wines had been exhausted and he was left with a couple of barrels that had come from southern France. Unfortunately they had not travelled at all well. ‘I hear that the queen has been nursing him herself.’
‘She has,’ Armand confirmed but did not elaborate. Sometimes he kept way too much to himself and Guy had to force it out of him, which he found highly frustrating. ‘What is amiss?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Really?’ Guy crossed his legs and stared expectantly at Armand.
‘Of late I am finding the king’s manner irritating. Since I joined him in Sicily, I have tried so hard to become his friend and ally.’ Armand frowned. ‘He allows me so close.’ He demonstrated with his fingers. ‘Yet no closer. He still favours the Comte de Chalais above all others and he will not even see me at present. Stephen is one of the few knights who have been allowed to visit him while he is on his sickbed.’
Guy knew little of what had been going on recently as, ever since the queen had arrived, he had been very pointedly staying away from all the battle strategy meetings. To be frank he did not like Stephen suddenly being placed in charge of the Lionheart’s army, especially when the young man had the gall to disagree with Guy’s every suggestion. Eventually he had decided it was easier and less humiliating to stay away until Richard resumed command, but a week had already passed and the Lionheart appeared to be taking an uncommonly long time to recover. Even so Guy hated not being in the centre of all that was happening and this uncomfortable situation was getting him down. He had to rely solely on Armand, who fortunately had been allowed to attend these meetings, but this meant Guy had to hear everything second-hand. He was never quite certain if Armand was lying, leaving things out or embellishing the truth at times.
He looked thoughtfully at Armand. There was something about the young man that troubled him. So far he had been loyal but Guy still couldn’t bring himself to wholly trust the clever but rather devious young knight. Despite his concerns he’d been forced to select Armand for this special assignment as his choice of candidates had been limited. A number of things had made Armand stand out: he was ambitious, charming and stunningly good-looking while his rapacious sexual appetites were renowned and he appeared not to care what gender his partner was – pleasure crossed all boundaries for him.
Once Guy had learnt that Richard planned to leave his winter quarters in Sicily and set out for the Holy Land, he had decided to send Armand to join him, believing that it would be wise to have one of his own followers in a position close to the king. At that time he and Richard had not met, but he had heard a few unpleasant rumours about the king’s sexual leanings. He had hoped that Armand, who was a skilful seducer, might be able to lure the Lionheart into a sinful relationship, which could then be used to their advantage. However, although Richard had befriended Armand and appeared quite fascinated by his charm, looks and rather obvious sexual ambiguities, he had never treated him as anything other than a friend. Guy had now come to the conclusion that the rumours about Richard were just an attempt by his enemies to blacken his name. Now, however, Armand had to find other ways to get even closer to Richard but it appeared that Stephen was one barrier he had been unable to cross.
‘Why can the Lionheart not resume control of his army?’ Guy said frustratedly. ‘That upstart Stephen puts me down at every turn, even having the gall to disagree with me – a king! And he does not have even one drop of royal blood in his veins.’
‘Did your marriage somehow change your blood to that of royalty?’ Armand asked with a cynical smile.
Guy curled his lip in disgust. Guy liked to believe that he was as blue blooded as any other royal monarch, yet he could not deny that Armand was correct and that his kingship came only from his union with Sibylla. Armand was far too aware of how fearful Guy was about his situation at present. Philip of France was related to Conrad de Montferrat, so he favoured Guy’s young sister-in-law, Princess Isabella, becoming queen. Currently Richard supported Guy’s right to be king, but that situation could change in an instant, especially now that the Baron of Ibelin had unexpectedly arrived on the scene.
Balian of Ibelin and Stephen’s godfather Raymond of Tripoli had been Guy’s greatest adversaries at the royal court of Jerusalem. It was those two men who had spoken out so vehemently against his plans to march the army out of the city and pursue the Saracen forces into the barren waterless countryside near the Horns of Hattin. They had argued that it would be far wiser to wait for Salah ad-Din to come to them. Unfortunately they had been proved right: his army had been decimated, Jerusalem had fallen and he had been imprisoned by Salah ad-Din for nigh on a year.
‘No doubt King Richard will take
charge again soon. Rumour has it that he is planning a massive assault on the city. He has been closeted with Stephen and Balian for many hours at a time in the last few days.’ Armand paused and frowned. ‘Stephen I can understand, Richard depends on his opinions way too much for your liking. But why do you hate the Baron of Ibelin so much?’
‘It is not your concern,’ Guy snapped.
He had no intention of telling Armand that Balian had been one of the barons who had done all he could to prevent Guy from becoming king. When King Baldwin was close to death he had asked Raymond and Balian to try to persuade his sister, Sibylla, to divorce her husband immediately. Baldwin had never liked or trusted Guy and for some ridiculous reason had thought that he would not be a good ruler. Fortunately, the plot had not succeeded because he’d been in a position to be able to force Sibylla not to give in to their outrageous demands.
Now that he was king, regardless of what happened, he had no intention of ever giving up his crown. Unfortunately, however, Balian was very influential and he had made it very clear to all and sundry that he favoured Isabella’s right to become queen. Guy feared that Balian would try to persuade Stephen to side with him and they might well convince Richard to join them. Without the Lionheart’s open support and influence, Guy could lose his throne.
‘I apologise for even presuming to ask,’ Armand said, still eyeing him curiously.
Guy decided it might be wiser to change the subject. He had been formulating a plan for the last few days which should please Armand almost as much as it pleased him. ‘I was thinking that it would be fortuitous for both you and I, if the Comte de Chalais were to disappear for a while.’
Armand’s interest was dearly piqued. ‘A while? Better still forever,’ he said with a chilling smile.
‘Forever – an interesting thought,’ Guy agreed. ‘First, however, I need to speak to the Grand Master of the Templars, Robert de Sable.’
Edwina, a long dark cloak covering her silk gown, hurried towards the rear of the camp. Just ahead, close to a line of tethered horses, she saw a figure also swathed in a dark cloak, the hood drawn close to half conceal the wearer’s face. ‘Leila, you are here. I am sorry I am late.’
The young woman smiled and bowed her head respectfully. ‘My lady, I feared that you might not come.’
‘I promised I would, did I not?’
‘Unfortunately, I have learnt that Frankish promises are sometimes broken.’
‘I do not break my promises,’ Edwina said very seriously, as she thrust a bag into Leila’s hand. ‘Money and a few necessities. Your escort, when he arrives, will have enough provisions for the journey.’
‘Forgive my mistrust.’ Leila smiled warmly at Edwina. ‘You are a good person, I should not have let my thoughts waver even for a moment.’
Leila had looked after Edwina and expertly tended to her wounds for two days onboard the king’s galley. Edwina had come to like the strangely enigmatic young woman and also come to pity her when she had learnt more about her past.
Leila was a Moslem and, unbeknown to Richard, the sister of an influential Saracen leader. She had been travelling in a caravan some years ago when it had been attacked. She had been captured and eventually sold as a slave to the brothel owner in Messina, where she had been forced to become a whore. Edwina had empathised even more with Leila’s position because of her own brief brush with slavery. Also, because of her marriage to Hugh, she felt that she had a better understanding than most about being forced to prostitute oneself.
Leila had told her that she had been relieved when Armand purchased her and sent her to serve such an important man as Richard. Hoping to eventually find a way to free herself from slavery, she had told the king that she had relatives in the Holy Land. To her delight, he had promised to free her once they reached the safety of Tyre. However, when their ships had been refused entrance to the city, she’d had no choice but to accompany the king to Acre.
Here in the camp, she had been quite alone, separated from Richard because of his illness and the arrival of his wife, and she had sought out Edwina. When the opportunity had arisen they had spent time together and Edwina had enjoyed Leila’s company.
‘I’ve found someone who will escort you through the Christian lines. No doubt you will be reasonably safe once you reach Saracen-held territory.’
Edwina had not wanted to involve Stephen in this plan because, despite the fact that Richard had promised to give Leila her freedom, he had not yet done so and at present she was still officially the king’s slave. Instead she had asked Martin for his help and, much against his better judgement, he had agreed. He had found her a Turcopole – one of the many men of Arab and Frankish descent who served in the Christian army – who was willing to escort Leila to safety.
‘You know that I will never be able to repay you for all your kindnesses to me, Edwina,’ Leila said with feeling.
‘I have enjoyed the times we have been able to spend together. You have helped me with my Arabic and taught me a little more about your people and their customs.’ Edwina paused. ‘I will not lie to you, Leila. I have other reasons for helping you as well.’
‘Your friend, Berengaria,’ Leila said with understanding. ‘You told me that she has become far closer to her new husband since she has been nursing him. I am aware that my presence endangers that relationship. It would be better for her if I disappeared and she never has cause to even learn of my existence.’
‘That is so.’ Edwina saw the tall dark-skinned man she had spoken to yesterday with Martin walking towards them, leading two horses. ‘It appears that understanding goes both ways.’
‘It was fate that threw us together at such a propitious time,’ Leila said very seriously. ‘Qismat, we call it. May God be with you, Edwina.’
‘And you also,’ Edwina said softly.
After watching Leila and her escort ride off, Edwina turned to walk back to Stephen’s tent. Martin had wanted to accompany her here, as he did not like the idea of her walking around the camp alone. However, she had refused his offer because she did not want anyone else to be directly involved in Leila’s disappearance, apart from the Turcopole, of course, who had been well paid for his silence.
She was sorry to lose a friend, because she considered Leila a friend even though their acquaintance had been brief. Now Leila would be free at last and would hopefully soon be reunited with her family.
Edwina’s thoughts turned to Stephen. Berengaria had no need of her this evening and she was already envisaging the passion-filled hours she and her lover would spend together. She looked up at the sky. It would soon be dark and already the noisy pounding of the catapults had ceased, allowing an air of tranquillity to fall over the vast camp for a short while. It would be busy again as soon as fires were lit, meals cooked and soldiers spent time with their comrades sharing stories and drinking together. The peace did not bode well for her, however, as the camp was not a particularly safe place for women to walk around alone in daylight, let alone now when dusk was fast approaching.
Walking swiftly, she retraced her steps, past a smithy and a Hospitaller facility, which was fortunately currently bereft of new casualties. The ground had become even drier of late and the dust swirled around her feet, dirtying the hem of her cloak and gown. Stephen had told her that once there had been fields and verdant greenery surrounding the city but nothing was left of it now: it had become a barren wasteland fit only for warfare.
She skirted a large enclosure, which contained a large, very ornate blue tent, knowing that she had to hurry as the sun had just disappeared over the horizon and the light was becoming even dimmer. Night seemed to come almost in an instant in this part of the world and she feared she would find it more difficult to find her way in the darkness, so she increased her pace.
She was so intent on where she was going that she didn’t notice anyone behind her and she jumped nervously as she heard someone say, ‘My lady, you should not be walking around the camp alone.’
The knight, accompanied by a guard carrying a lantern, stepped in front of her. As the lantern was raised she saw to her consternation that it was Guy de Lusignan. ‘Please.’ She shielded her eyes from the sudden bright light.
The soldier moved the lantern away from her face as Guy said, ‘Lady Edwina? What brings you here?’
‘I was delayed on an errand for the queen,’ she lied, ‘and somehow lost my way.’
‘Then you must allow me to escort you back to your quarters.’
She was tempted to refuse his offer, but she knew full well that it would be far more perilous to walk back alone than to be with him. ‘That is kind, but I have no wish to trouble you, sire.’
‘I would not have it any other way, it is my pleasure, my lady.’ He took hold of her arm, gently but persuasively. ‘As it happens I am heading in that direction as I have business with the king. First, if you would favour me with a moment, there is something I need to take with me.’
She had no choice but to accompany him across the compound and into his ornate tent. The queen’s quarters were pleasant enough, but this was so much more luxurious. There were even carpets covering the ground. That had surprised her in the castle in Limassol, but she couldn’t believe he would bring such precious objects to be used in here of all places. Surely the dust and grime would damage them irreparably.
Guy walked over to an ornately carved table. ‘Could I offer you refreshment?’ he asked. ‘I have a rather ill-favoured wine or some sherbet, a taste most ladies seem to enjoy.’
Edwina wanted to keep this situation as formal as possible so she said, rather stiffly, ‘I respectfully decline your offer, Majesty. I am not in need of any refreshment at present.’
‘It is not necessary to stand on ceremony when we are alone, my lady. Perhaps you may require refreshments later,’ he replied with a rather teasing smile tugging at his lips.
Edwina tensed. He had said ‘later’ as if he expected her to be here some time, yet he had told her that he would only be a moment. ‘I cannot tarry, the queen is expecting me.’
Templar Prize Page 14
