‘A pity.’ Guy took hold of her arm and drew her over to a large table on which rested a parchment. It was stretched out flat and weighted down with a couple of small bronze statues. She could see that the parchment was covered by elegantly scripted lettering and parts of it were gilded. ‘You cannot leave yet, Lady Edwina. I have something to show your first.’
‘Show me?’ His hand still held onto her arm quite firmly and she was filled with the sudden inexplicable urge to flee. Yet there was nothing out of place in his manner and there was no reason for her to feel like this.
‘You may recall when we last spoke at the king’s wedding, Queen Joanna mentioned that she had a gift for her brother – a family tree. She was kind enough to have a scribe copy it for me and it would please me if you would examine it.’
She was confused but also just a little curious. ‘Why, sire?’
‘Look here, my lady.’ His finger pointed at a name near the top of the parchment. ‘Fulk of Anjou, a name that might be familiar to you. Fulk married Eremburtge of Maine, and if you trace the line down you reach their great-grandson, Richard Plantagenet, also known as King Richard the Lionheart.’
He was presuming that she knew how to read, which she did fortunately, although she knew that there were those among the nobility who could not. Yet she couldn’t make out the names for a moment as the letters swam before her eyes. ‘Fulk,’ she repeated. ‘Yes, I see,’ she added as her vision cleared.
‘After Fulk’s wife died, he married again, this time to Melisende of Jerusalem and they became the king and queen of the Latin Kingdom.’
Still she couldn’t quite see why this should interest her but she smiled rather nervously at Guy and then returned her attention to the document. She watched his finger slide slowly down the other side of the parchment until it reached a name she recognised. ‘Sibylla, your late wife,’ she said rather awkwardly.
‘Fulk’s great-granddaughter,’ he prompted.
She nodded, then because he appeared to be waiting for her to say something, she added, ‘So Sibylla was distant kin to the king?’
‘You ignore the obvious, Lady Edwina.’ He stabbed his finger on another name and she feared in his zeal he might rip the parchment. ‘Peter, the youngest son of Sibyl who was Fulk’s daughter by his first wife.’
‘So?’ Edwina looked at Guy in confusion, not sure why this should mean anything to her. ‘Sibyl, a similar name to your late wife’s, but I do not see any other connection.’
‘Do you not know your own heritage? Are you not aware of the names of your own grandparents?’
‘No, my father would not speak of them. I know not why. My brother says that there was some kind of disagreement with him and his family.’ She tensed anxiously as Guy pulled her round to face him. ‘Does this document have something to do with me?’ she asked haltingly.
‘You, Edwina, are the great-granddaughter of Fulk of Anjou. Surely your father has at least mentioned that you are kin to your liege lord, the King of England?’
She had always wondered why Richard had been so kind to her, especially when she was very young, and now she knew why. ‘I did not know,’ she stuttered. ‘I am obliged to you for telling me, but I do not understand why it should concern you.’
He smiled warmly at her as he placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Because you are also related to my late wife, Sibylla. Royal blood from both houses flows in your veins and now that you are free, my lady, I have decided to make you my bride.’
8
Edwina had run for what seemed like ages, darting around campfires, rows of horses and tents, ignoring the curious and sometimes concerned glances of the soldiers and knights she passed. Some had called out to her but she had ignored them and now, to her relief, she could see Stephen’s tent.
Pausing, she took a deep breath, not wanting him to see how agitated she was as she tried vainly to forget all that had happened between her and Guy. Yet how could she, it still troubled her way too much. After he’d told her that she would be the perfect bride for him, she had pointed out quite politely that she had no wish to marry him. She had informed Guy that she was promised to Stephen and that they planned to be married as soon as her necessary term of mourning was at an end.
To her amazement Guy had appeared to be amused by her statement and had pointed out that in this life no one could be sure of anything. There was always the chance that the situation between her and Stephen might well change and circumstances might prevent her from marrying him. There had been something about Guy’s manner that had made her fear for Stephen’s safety, before she’d dismissed such a notion as totally foolish.
Feeling confused and troubled she had said that she could tarry no longer as she had to return to the queen, whereupon he had immediately pulled her into his arms and kissed her. To be honest, she had been rather surprised but she had not found it unpleasant and in a strange way she had been flattered by the fact that a king desired her so much. Soon the kiss became more passionate and his tongue began to sensually probe her mouth. She was sorry to admit it now but she had felt the first brief flutterings of sexual arousal and she had made no protest, letting him kiss her a while longer. However, his hand had suddenly and quite unexpectedly covered her breasts, massaging them through her gown, while his other hand reached beneath her skirts.
Sanity had returned and she’d slapped his face hard. Unfortunately the blow had not appeared to anger him; in fact it aroused him even more. He had pushed her roughly back against the table and held her pinioned there. He then lustfully kissed her again, while his hand inveigled itself between her thighs. Acting on instinct alone, she had kneed him hard in the balls. With a grunt of pain he had crumpled to the ground, then groaned noisily as he clutched desperately at his groin. Edwina had turned and fled.
Surely she could not be punished for protecting her own chastity, however much she might have harmed King Guy. She put a shaky hand to her hair. She had lost a number of precious bronze pins somewhere along the way and her careful coiffure was in disarray.
She could see a light in Stephen’s tent, so he must be inside. Not until she was in his arms would she really feel safe. Taking a deep breath she stepped forwards, vowing not to tell him what had occurred. Knowing Stephen, he would immediately pick up his sword and stride off to challenge Guy de Lusignan and King Richard would not be happy about that. It would only complicate a difficult situation even more.
As she entered the tent, she saw Stephen immediately. Surprisingly he was naked, apart from a linen towel around his loins. He sat on a low stool while his squire attended to him. ‘What is wrong?’ she asked anxiously as she hurried forwards.
‘Nothing of any consequence.’ Stephen winced as Dickon, his squire, spread a thick greenish salve over the livid bruise she could see on her lover’s left shoulder. It was massive and looked terrible, extending down his arm and across to his nipple.
‘A sword blow, my lady,’ Dickon explained as he stepped back and wiped the remains of the salve from his fingers. ‘Fortunately my master’s chainmail is of the best quality and protected him from even worse damage.’
‘It looks painful,’ she said as she examined it more closely. ‘Are you sure there is no other damage, Stephen?’
He flexed his arm, wincing visibly once again. ‘Just a brief encounter with some Saracens. I’ve survived far worse and the blow didn’t even break the skin.’
‘It looks bad enough to me.’
‘And you look a little dishevelled, my love,’ he said as Dickon picked up the jar of salve and left the tent. The squire was a thoughtful young man and wise enough to know that it was circumspect to leave them alone.
‘Dishevelled?’ She awkwardly touched her hair. ‘I suppose I was just in a rush to see you.’ He looked at her thoughtfully and she wasn’t sure if he believed her or not. ‘Stephen.’ She stepped closer and put a tentative hand on his undamaged shoulder. ‘I was hoping that tonight . . . but you are hurt and it might be wiser if I let you
rest.’
‘Nonsense, I am fine. Do not think that a Saracen sword blow is going to stop me.’ He slid his right arm around her waist and eased her closer. ‘It will ache and be stiff for a few days but it is not my sword arm and it will not prevent me enjoying the pleasures your presence offers me.’ She dropped her cloak to the floor as he lifted up her skirts and caressed her thigh. ‘Sit.’ He pulled her closer until her legs touched his knees.
Parting her legs, she edged forwards and perched gingerly on his thighs. ‘Are you sure this is wise?’
‘What do you think?’ His hand slid beneath the silk that was draped over his legs and his fingers touched her sex. Edwina gave a soft moan and jerked away the towel that covered his groin. His cock lay there curled up on the bed of his balls and she saw it twitch visibly as his fingers slid into the slit of her sex. ‘Edwina,’ he said softly.
She reached out and curved her fingers around his shaft, then stroked it tenderly until she felt it stiffen against her palm. ‘Are you sure?’ She caressed it more firmly, milking it until it hardened into a rigid rod, while she felt her body moisten under the pressure of his searching fingertips.
‘So very sure,’ he said. His hand cupped her buttocks and he slid her closer until her open sex was pressed against his swollen shaft.
She lifted herself, moving further forwards until he could guide his cock head into the entrance of her vagina. The warm pressure of his flesh seeking entrance felt delicious and she pushed herself downwards, savouring the feel of his hot hard shaft sliding deep inside her.
Stephen had always been fascinated by the desert. He found a strange wild beauty in the stark emptiness: the rolling dunes of golden sand that could shift so easily in the desert winds and the flat plains which appeared to stretch on forever, blending into the distant horizon so that it became difficult to see where the land ended and the sky began. When the sun was at its zenith and the heat grew overpowering it turned into an ethereal shimmering landscape which appeared as old and endless as time itself.
They had reached this oasis only a short time ago. The twenty Knights Templar who rode with him had chosen to camp in the shade of the trees, but he had erected his small tent close to the waterhole at its centre, which because of the lateness of the spring rains was at present more like a small lake.
Stephen sat cross-legged on the sandy ground admiring the magnificent beauty of his surroundings as the sun slowly set in the west. As it sank lower the dark outlines of the palm trees stood in stark silhouette against the blood-red sky.
He had forgotten how much he loved this land. Before the fall of Jerusalem there had been almost one hundred years of peace between Moslems and Christians. If Richard could achieve his aims and that peace returned, he would be happy to live here for a time but he was unsure if Edwina would feel the same.
As he thought of her, he recalled how upset she had been when he had told her that he had to leave for a while as the king had ordered him to lead this group of Templar knights to the castle of Sarak. It was the only fortress which still remained in Templar hands and by now most probably reinforcements were desperately needed.
Richard had recovered but while he was ill he had relied greatly on Stephen. So, not surprisingly, Stephen had been confused when the king had ordered him to go on such a relatively unimportant mission. However, when he had learnt that the grand master had specifically requested his involvement he knew that Guy had had a hand in this.
The Templars were extraordinarily loyal to the King of the Latin Kingdom, and it was clearly an attempt by Guy to keep him out of the way for a while. Stephen was well aware of how much his behaviour must have infuriated Guy of late. He had refused to accept ill-conceived military advice from a man who had never managed to lead his forces to victory on even one occasion.
So be it, Stephen had thought. Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Edwina, he would have been happy to leave Acre for a while. Even now, out here in the wilderness, he missed her, but he knew full well that she would be safe enough because she was under King Richard’s protection.
As night fell, the darkness was accompanied by a peaceful silence, although now and then in the distance he could hear faint sounds coming from the Templar camp. No doubt by now the knights would be at prayer. Most of them had not served in the Holy Land before so he had let the few Turcopoles that had accompanied him stand guard tonight. They were more attuned to this land and he trusted their instincts, knowing that they would sense a Saracen patrol far earlier than he could. This part of the country was under Salah ad-Din’s control but so far they had seen no signs of any Saracens and with luck they would reach Sarak without being spotted.
Stephen tensed, reaching for the dagger at his belt, as he heard a squeak and a faint scuffling sound. He had thought it safe enough to remove his chainmail but perhaps that had not been wise. A dark shape appeared not far away from him. He sprang to his feet and, by the silvery light of the moon, saw one of the Turcopoles striding towards him, dragging a slight figure which struggled in the soldier’s firm grasp.
‘My lord,’ the man growled as he reached Stephen, ‘I caught this boy trying to creep into the camp.’ He threw the captive to the ground at Stephen’s feet.
‘You think he’s a spy?’ He couldn’t see the captive clearly but he was quite slight and appeared to be dressed in Arab garments.
‘Why else would he be here?’ the soldier replied disparagingly, as he nudged the figure with his booted foot. But the boy, whose hands were tied in front of him, crouched there, head lowered, and did not utter a sound. ‘Do you want me to question him?’
Stephen was about to say yes when the captive lifted his head and stared right at him. Moonlight caught the captive’s eyes, making them appear an unearthly silvery blue. Stephen tensed. There was something troublingly familiar about the youth even though darkness disguised his features. Stephen’s heart missed a beat. No, it couldn’t possibly be, he told himself. ‘No, I’ll question him – you return to your post.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
As the man hurried off, Stephen shoved the dagger back in his belt, grabbed hold of the captive and hauled him inside the small tent. It wasn’t high enough for him to stand up straight in, so he had to crouch awkwardly as he closed the flap. He drew aside the shade that covered the flame of the lamp so that he could see the captive’s face more clearly.
Angrily, Stephen ripped off the ragged turban and two fat golden plaits fell down over the captive’s shoulders.’ ‘What are you doing here?’ he exclaimed furiously. ‘Are you mad?’
‘Of course not.’ Edwina’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. He moved the lamp nearer to her and she blinked at the bright light. ‘Why are you so angry with me?’
‘Angry is not the half of it.’ He sank to his knees in front of her. ‘Do you realise how foolish this was? My men could have killed you by mistake. You could have been set upon by a Saracen patrol or lost in the desert and died of thirst. There are so many dangers here that you know nothing about.’ Despite his furious words, part of him was pleased to see her. She looked beautiful, even dressed in her grubby tunic and loose trousers. ‘It is a miracle you survived.’
‘Did you know that you are even more handsome when you are angry?’ She struggled into a sitting position and smiled coyly at him. ‘Despite your concerns for my safety, are you not just the slightest bit pleased to see me?’
‘No,’ he said stubbornly, ignoring the love and desire he felt for this sweet, irritating creature. ‘I am a knight, Edwina, and this is war. It is not a suitable place for a woman.’
‘Yet the king brought Berengaria and I to Acre.’ She tried to ease the rope from her wrists but it was tied too securely.
‘A decision that I told him was foolish as it happens,’ he said as he took the dagger from his belt again.
She smiled and held out her bound hands, but he did not move to cut her bonds, just glaring furiously at her. ‘Well, are you going to release me?’ she asked. ‘Or woul
d you prefer to leave me bound and just cut off my clothes instead?’ She pursed her lips then smiled seductively. ‘I confess I find the thought of you taking me while I am tied up quite stimulating.’
Stephen was exasperated: he wasn’t getting anywhere. He exhaled very slowly. The seductive way she was looking at him and the images that her words had prompted in his head caused a surge of blood to fill his loins. ‘Certainly not here and now but the thought does interest me.’ Rather reluctantly, he cut the rope that bound her wrists together.
She rubbed her reddened wrists. ‘The rope was digging into my skin. Your soldier did tie it incredibly tight but I didn’t dare complain, let alone tell him who I really am.’
‘You know that my anger was caused only by concern?’
‘Of course.’ She nodded and then contritely lowered her eyes until her thick lashes fanned her pink cheeks.
‘And you admit that your actions were foolish?’
‘Foolish maybe.’ She looked up at him. ‘But I had the uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen to you.’
‘And will your presence here prevent it happening?’ he asked coolly as he tried to ignore the fiery lust that had ignited inside his body.
‘I suppose not.’ She flung herself at him quite unexpectedly and with so much enthusiasm that she pushed him over and they fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. ‘Do you forgive me?’
‘I will have to be persuaded.’ Rolling onto his back, Stephen grabbed hold of her and pulled her atop him. ‘Will not the queen be concerned by your disappearance? She will fear that something terrible has happened to you.’ He couldn’t resist slipping his hand under her tunic to caress her bare back.
‘She will not.’ She sounded very confident. ‘It was Berengaria who helped me arrange to follow you. It is amazing what a queen can do, especially when she is in possession of the king’s royal seal.’ Edwina wriggled down his body until her hips were pressed to his. ‘She is to tell everyone that I am unwell and resting in my tent. So they will not even know that I am gone.’
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