‘However, what?’ he enquired, running his fingers ruefully over the heavy stubble on his chin.
She didn’t answer for a moment; she was too focused on the droplets of water glittering like gems on his muscular chest and the tempting arrow of fine dark hair that tracked down towards his groin. ‘You need to wash the rest of yourself, do you not?’
‘Despite the fact that you have already seen me naked in such untoward circumstances, I cannot willingly stand unclothed in front of you – a royal lady.’
‘You are way too honourable.’ She picked up a towel and handed it to him. ‘If my modesty concerns you, Stephen, then I will turn my back.’
She took a few steps towards the bed and turned away from him. Her ears were attuned to even the slightest sound and she heard what she thought was a faint rustling as he removed his tattered breeches. This was followed by a splash as he wrung out the cloth in the water. Isabella waited until she thought he would be fully engrossed in washing, then glanced furtively over her shoulder just in time to see him carefully wiping his nether regions.
Scared that he might see her looking, she averted her eyes again, unable to control her emotions. Stephen was magnificent and lust consumed her every thought. She’d had two husbands already although she was not yet twenty. Humphrey had bedded her very infrequently, because he felt it his duty, but she had never found it arousing, just awkward and rather embarrassing. More often than not his desire had waned before they’d even reached the point of copulation. Now there was Conrad, who was at least thirty years older than her. She found him repulsive as he was crude, quite ill mannered and only interested in warfare, with no understanding of a young woman like her. Thank goodness he had only bothered to bed her a few times because when he had she’d loathed the uncomfortable experience. Was it so wrong to desperately desire a man and have him desire her as well?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Stephen appearing at her side, a towel wrapped securely around his lean hips. ‘The clothes, where are they?’
Gathering her courage together, she turned and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. ‘You realise that we will be together in this room for some time. At least until Amalric figures out a way to smuggle you out of the fortress.’
‘So it appears.’ His expression, told her nothing, his stance unresponsive.
Rather nervously, she trailed her hand down over the hard planes of his chest, allowing her fingertips to brush teasingly against one flat nipple. ‘Stephen, my life has not pleased me so far. I have been obliged to marry men I did not want or desire.’
‘I know that.’ His green eyes were focused on her face. ‘It could not have been easy for you.’
She swallowed awkwardly, still keeping her hand on his chest, conscious that she could feel the steady beat of his heart. ‘I would ask a boon of you.’ Isabella suspected that he knew what she wanted, yet he made no attempt to come to her aid and she was forced to continue. ‘I am well aware that your heart lies with another and that you are concerned for her safety. I would not wish her to be forced to marry Guy. He is pompous, selfish and untrustworthy, yet even I would find him more agreeable that Conrad.’
‘You dislike your husband that much?’ he asked gently.
‘Yes.’ She felt tears fill her eyes and tried to force them back, determined not to weep. ‘Princesses have little or no say in their choice of husbands.’
‘Yet I believe you cared for Humphrey?’ He didn’t appear to expect an answer from her. ‘You were only twelve when you married him, better half a man such as him than an elderly warrior like Conrad who might not have been concerned about your youthful innocence.’
‘I give thanks for that. Humphrey was like a brother to me,’ she replied. ‘Nevertheless I fear that I will never know what sexual desire is let alone spend a night of passion with a man who desires me. You could change that, could you not?’
Stephen was silent for a moment and she feared that he intended to reject her out of hand. ‘So you ask this of me, Isabella, in return for saving my life?’
‘I ask nothing that you are not prepared to give.’ She turned away from him but tensed as she felt a strong hand clasp her shoulder. Stephen pulled her back and twisted her around. He slid his arms around her waist and eased her closer until her full breasts were crushed against his chest, with nothing between their bare flesh but a sliver of pink silk.
‘God forgive me,’ he murmured before his lips covered hers, his tongue sliding sensuously into her mouth. She shivered in surprise and reached out to cling onto him as the kiss deepened and became more passionate. Her body seemed to melt as a wild heat coursed through her veins, the warmth of a desire she had never felt before.
Then he was edging her towards the bed, but when he let go of her she had to hold back her cry of dismay, fearing that he had changed his mind. ‘Take off your dress,’ he said huskily as he discarded his towel.
Isabella’s hands trembled as she struggled with the lacings. Stephen gave a soft chuckle and slipped it from her body himself. Men had seen her naked before but never like this in the heat of passion. She blushed shyly as Stephen’s lustful gaze raked her naked body. He placed a hand on her breast, then massaged it gently and pulled at the sensitive teat until she gave a pleading moan.
‘Tell me again that you want me,’ he growled as he eased her down onto the soft mattress, tossing aside the pillows that got in his way.
‘I want you,’ she whispered rather demurely, although she felt far from demure as his gaze raked her body once more and she shuddered with suppressed excitement. Then he touched her again, his hands tenderly following her soft feminine curves as a wild need invaded every fibre of her being. ‘So much,’ she murmured as he possessively caressed her breasts, pulling at both nipples until they stiffened and began to ache. Then he fastened his lips around one teat and began to suck on it hard. Isabella’s body melted into the mattress as the pulling sensation travelled down her body to her groin.
While his mouth lingered on her breasts, his hands slid downwards to stroke her flat belly, then eased their way between her thighs, sliding into the narrow slit of her sex. As he caressed her secret flesh, she felt the moisture gather there, giving extra fluidity to every smooth movement of his fingertips. Slowly those fingers slid inside her and stroked the soft interior with such sweetly arousing movements that she thought she would go insane with delight. She savoured a pleasure the like of which she had never known before.
So this was lovemaking, she thought distractedly. How wonderful it would be to share pleasure like this night after night. Now that she had tasted the honeyed sweetness of this illicit passion she wanted more.
All of a sudden Stephen removed his fingers, spread her legs wide and, with one smooth movement, replaced his fingers with his mouth. Isabella was utterly taken aback, not knowing something like this was even possible. It felt so wicked and yet so good. Stephen’s searching tongue was moist and slippery, the seductive movements playing a magical melody on a tiny nub of flesh she had never know existed before. It felt so blissful. Then, to her amazement, she felt that snake of a tongue wriggle inside her and the pleasure became so perfect she found herself threading her fingers through Stephen’s dark hair and pressing his face hard against her sex.
She was climbing towards something wonderful but, before she could reach it, he pulled her back from the brink. He slid his body atop hers, his groin pressing demandingly against hers. Supporting his weight on his strong arms he kissed her again and she tasted the musky flavour of her own secretions on his lips.
‘I’ll not hurt you,’ he whispered, lifting his hips so that he could reach down and guide his engorged cock into the opening of her sex.
Even the tip felt huge and she recalled how large he was even unaroused, far bigger than anything she’d known before and, for a moment, the thought made her body stiffen nervously against his.
‘Relax,’ he purred as he moved his hips just a shade, gently easing his solid shaft inside
her. He proceeded slowly, a finger’s breadth at a time, until her body stretched to accommodate his and he was buried to the hilt, his groin pressed close to hers.
Stephen smiled and his green eyes locked with her brown ones as he began to thrust, gently at first then a little harder. Her eyes widened in amazement as she felt the intense sensations, which gradually magnified and grew inside her, layer upon layer, until she thought nothing could get any better.
Yet it did, as she wrapped her arms around him, her palms pressing against his buttocks to encourage him onwards, urging him to pump harder and even more vigorously. Soon she felt it, a powerful sensation, blossoming and expanding like a ripple did when a pebble hit the water until it grew into a powerful wave of wild unimaginable delight. It swept over her, carrying her up into a world of sweet bliss she had never dreamt of let alone experienced before.
In the past Edwina had listened in fascination to Stephen’s tales of the harems but she was finding the reality of it all very different. Life here was far more luxurious than she had expected it to be and, to her amazement, the women did not appear used and abused by their master; in fact they seemed extraordinarily happy to be living here.
After a long trek across the desert in the company of grim-faced Saracen soldiers, knowing full well that they had brutally slaughtered the Turcopoles, she had been pleased to arrive at this place, which she learnt the Franks called Ibram. It had once belonged to the most important nobleman in the Latin Kingdom, and now it was ruled by Nasir al-Din, a distant relative of the great Salah ad-Din himself.
She had told her captors that she was a lady of King Richard’s court before they had left her here, knowing that she would have to be patient and wait until she was ransomed. It would take a while to send a message to Acre and sort the matter out, so she had accepted that she would have to endure living here for a short while.
When she had first stepped into the harem, beautiful women in outrageously scanty garments had taken charge of her. They had not expected her to speak any Arabic so she had stayed silent and listened to their idle chatter as they led her to a separate bathing facility and stripped off her clothes. The large pool of warm scented water felt like heaven after the grittiness and heat of the desert.
After a long luxurious soak and a hair wash, she had been handed over to a hugely overweight man who had pummelled and massaged her skin with sweet-scented oils. She had been embarrassed by her nudity, of course, but he did not display any desire for her and she’d known instinctively that he was a eunuch. Stephen had told her of the young male slaves who were emasculated at an early age so that they could safely guard the women in the harems.
Her hair had been combed and dried, kohl applied to her eyes and then she had been dressed in a silk skirt and an embroidered bolero that barely covered her breasts. She had been led to a cool shady room, given food and then told in hesitant Frankish to rest. Having no choice, she had done as they asked and surprisingly had slept long and deeply.
Her days henceforth had passed in idleness; the women here seemed to do nothing but eat, sleep and chatter near constantly. Some played music on strange Arab instruments while others danced, but none of them did anything one could consider remotely useful and there were servants to cater to their every whim. No wonder some of them were plump, because they spent their days in happy indolent luxury.
Yet by now Edwina was becoming very bored and she knew every inch of this place because she had walked around it numerous times. The rooms were all exotically decorated, some even with pictures on the walls, and the floors and high-arched ceilings were covered in elaborate mosaics. The harem was constructed around a central courtyard filled with plants and flowers and at its centre was an ornamental pool filled with strange-looking fish.
Today Edwina had been watching the fish for some time as they darted to the surface, gobbling up the tiny insects that landed on the surface of the water. It was getting a little too hot, so she wandered back into the cool interior of the harem. At this time of the day, most of the women slept for a while. She passed plump scantily dressed women snoozing on low couches and upon piles of cushions on the floor. Soon she thought she would go insane with boredom, and her patience began to wane a little. If only someone would tell her how things were progressing – how long did it take for a ransom to be paid, for goodness’ sake?
She heard a noise and looked towards the source of the sound, just in time to see a group of people enter the harem through a door which was usually kept locked and was always heavily guarded. It was the same door through which the concubines came and went when they were summoned by their master. All of them appeared quite happy to go and they often returned with generous gifts and elaborate jewellery.
Edwina stared curiously at the woman in the centre of the group, who wore cobalt-blue silk and was far more demurely clad than the concubines. A veil covered her dark hair and the lower part of her face so that only her kohl-ringed eyes were visible. Judging by the amount of gold she wore she was a woman of some importance. She was accompanied by two maidservants and a tall attractive man with skin as dark as pitch, who looked too fit and muscular to be a eunuch.
When the woman spotted Edwina watching them, she walked purposefully towards her. ‘Frank, here come,’ she said in atrocious French.
There was little point in ignoring her command so Edwina approached the woman and, unsure of the lady’s position in the household, curtsied. The woman delicately pulled the veil from her face and rewarded Edwina with a regal smile.
Reaching out she touched Edwina’s long blonde hair. ‘Like gold, most unusual,’ she said in Arabic to the women accompanying her. ‘Her skin is unusually pale. Her cheeks have been coloured by the sun but that will soon fade. My lord will like her, I am sure.’
Presumably she was referring to Nasir al-Din, Edwina thought, as she stared at the woman rather curiously. In the West she would be classed as attractive rather than pretty, as she had rather strong features and full lips, while her skin was an appealing dusky-brown colour.
‘I do not like the way the Frank is looking at me,’ the woman complained.
‘My name is Edwina, Lady de Moreville,’ Edwina said politely in Arabic.
‘You speak our language?’ The woman was surprised.
‘Not very well,’ Edwina admitted. ‘To become fluent takes time.’
‘Time you now have,’ came a reply, which Edwina did not like overmuch.
‘I think not. I expect to be ransomed very soon.’
‘Ransom?’ The woman smiled. ‘I came here looking for you, Ed Winna, my lord wishes to see you.’
‘Your lord?’ Edwina queried. ‘You mean your master Nasir al-Din?’
The woman was clearly taken aback by her reply and the guard interjected coldly, ‘You disrespect the Lady Jamilah, she is Nasir al-Din’s first wife.’
‘My apologies,’ Edwina said quickly, recalling that Saracens could take up to three wives if they so chose. ‘Would the meeting have anything to do with what is to happen to me? I know that negotiating a ransom can take a long time.’
‘You misunderstand, Ed Winna. He now considers you one of his concubines and he wishes you to share his bed tonight.’
Bernard looked irritably at the knight standing in front of him, who had a rather insolent smile on his face. ‘So you say that King Guy has changed his mind and now wants the man he calls a traitor freed and you come here to escort him back to Acre?’
Armand nodded. ‘I showed you his seal to confirm that I act only for him, did I not?’
‘And are you at liberty to tell me why?’ Bernard had no wish to admit yet that the comte had somehow escaped. He knew that the princess had helped him but he could not prove it and he was not foolish enough to confront the royal lady when he had no evidence to back up his claim. His men had searched every inch of Sarak and found no trace of Stephen, and Captain Amalric informed him that one of the horses they’d brought from the galley was missing and clothing had also been st
olen. He had sent knights out to search the surrounding countryside but all they had found was a pile of discarded clothing; the garments that Stephen had been given to wear in his cell.
‘Before I give you my reasons, could you confirm that you have destroyed King Guy’s original letter?’
‘Of course,’ Bernard lied.
Armand nodded. ‘Very well. You told me that, when you discovered who she was, you sent the Lady Edwina back to Acre. Well, when she arrived she appeared rather concerned for the comte’s safety and King Guy thought it likely that King Richard would send a large contingent of knights here to find his friend. So he wants the comte moved away from here.’ Armand looked thoughtfully at Bernard. ‘Sometimes it is wiser not to write things down, just in case. Many things can happen between here and Acre,’ he added obliquely.
Bernard nodded: so Guy didn’t really intend for Stephen to return to Acre, but he was not prepared to put that in writing, which was a wise move in the circumstances. The fewer people who knew of such matters the better. Bernard wondered how he was going to tell this insolent young pup that Stephen had escaped.
Armand de Mirabel strode through the corridors of Sarak filled with fury at the ineptitude of Bernard le Motte. How could a Templar of such standing be stupid enough to let a prisoner escape from his dungeons and then ride out of a heavily guarded citadel unchallenged? Taking a deep breath in order to control his anger, Armand stopped to take stock of the situation, knowing that a change of plan was in order here.
He tapped his finger against the letter he carried. Guy had obtained it from his friend the grand master. It was an order to the Templars to give whatever aid Armand required of them. To be honest he did not think even Guy realised how much power this gave him.
It was logical to assume that the meddling princess had helped Stephen escape. Armand had made a point of learning all he could about Stephen and he was aware that he and Isabella had known each other in the past. Most likely the princess had managed to smuggle Stephen onboard her galley, which was still at anchor close by. However, there was another alterative. Would she have been indiscreet enough to conceal him in her bedchamber, knowing full well that Bernard would never dare to insist on searching there for fear of offending her?
Templar Prize Page 19
