Seducing the Knight

by Gerri Russell

  Was it the kiss they’d shared last night? Did he think about that one brief moment of connection as much as she did? Her lips tingled at the thought of their passionate exchange. She’d claimed she wanted to keep her distance, to be proper in their interactions with each other. Yet another part of her wanted to kiss him again, just to see if the passion that had flared between them had been real or something she’d imagined.

  What kind of man was the knight behind her? His commanding presence and power were undeniable. But the shadows in his eyes also spoke of deep pain and vulnerability. This was a man who’d had a hard, harsh life. Much harder than the pampered existence she’d known in the palace. “Alan?” she asked quietly.

  “What, Jessamine?” There was a note of tension in his voice.

  “Where is your home?”

  “Home,” he said, his tone wistful. “It seems like a lifetime since I’ve stepped on the shores of Scotland.”

  “Scotland is your home?

  “’Tis the land of my birth.” A soft brogue lingered in his words.

  “Tell me about it.”

  He sighed. “It’s so green, with wide open spaces, craggy black hills…”

  At the wistfulness in his voice, she turned to look at him. “It sounds lovely.”

  She saw a slight lifting at the corners of his lips and his gaze moved to her face, sweeping her features as softly as a caress. Her breath caught as he shifted to look at her lips. “You have no idea how lovely it is.” His voice sounded raw. He leaned slightly forward. A long silent moment stretched between them.

  Then the screech of a hawk sounded, vibrating in the air, breaking the moment. He pulled back.

  He’d wanted to kiss her as much as she’d wanted it. She took a deep breath and turned back around to stare once again at the desert. Heat rose off the sandy earth in radiant waves that distorted vision.

  Over the course of the morning she’d been staring at the red, craggy peaks in the distance, and yet they appeared no closer now than when they’d started their journey. The hills almost seemed to retreat at the same pace as she and Alan advanced.

  But by the time the sun had reached its zenith, they’d finally arrived at a deep, narrow opening in the mountainside. Alan stopped the horse at the entrance.

  A shiver of fear rippled across her neck as she gazed into the dark unknown. The prophecy would take them inside that deep recess. Why was she suddenly afraid to follow the driving force of her life?

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Jessamine,” Alan said as though reading her thoughts.

  The words brought a small measure of comfort. “Where are we exactly?” she asked, staring toward the dark, narrow space.

  “The Valley of Edom,” he replied with reassuring calm. “We must enter what the locals refer to as the Siq here if we are to reach Petra.”

  Jessamine closed her eyes and nodded. When she felt a gentle caress against her cheek, she opened her eyes to find Alan smiling down at her.

  “Those men will never get another chance at you. I’m forewarned. We’ll be safe within these walls. Trust me.”

  “I do.”

  His smile widened. He encircled her waist with his arm and pulled her firmly back against his chest, then kicked the horse into motion. They surged forward into the cleft to follow a long, winding gorge that was no more than fifteen feet wide. The farther they progressed, the narrower the path became until sunlight no longer shone down between the sheer walls to either side. Chill air prickled Jessamine’s flesh, but she refused to let her fear break free. It was just the dark, confined space that had her on edge. Nothing more. Her knight of white was with her.

  They rode for what felt like forever, and just when the long, dark corridor seemed about to close in on them completely, it turned abruptly and opened wide. Jessamine gasped at the scene before her. Rising high above them on the opposite cliff was a gigantic edifice with two tiers of columns, colossal pediments, statue niches, and carved urns, all cut into the sheer rock face. “It looks like the entrance to a royal palace.”

  “In its day, it was the entrance of a tomb,” Alan breathed beside her, sounding as awestruck as she felt. “The locals call it the Treasury of Petra. Behind this facade are a number of vast chambers cut deep inside the mountain.”

  “Who used the tomb?”

  Alan shook his head. “It was built by the Nabataeans in the fourth century before Christ.” Alan swung down from the horse, then assisted her down. He moved back to his saddlebag and withdrew a small leather book that he concealed inside the folds of his robe. Next, he took out a small lantern and a tallow candle, along with a flint stone.

  He set the lantern on the ground and positioned the candle on the sand at his feet. He drew his sword. With a quick clean stroke of the flint against his sword, Alan created a spark that he guided toward the candle’s wick. Moments later, the candle glowed brightly in the lantern. He sheathed his sword, replaced the flint, then held out his free hand to her. “Come, let’s have a look inside.”

  Jessamine curled her fingers around his. She’d never held hands with anyone before. The courtiers weren’t allowed to touch her. For one breathless moment his smoldering gaze studied her feature by feature, then he gave her hand a squeeze and led them through the entrance that rose some twenty feet high overhead.

  With a sense of awe, Jessamine followed Alan into the ornate structure. Inside, the air was still and cold, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat outside. Golden light from the lantern splashed the nutmeg-colored walls, illuminating a colossal doorway that dominated the outer court and led to an inner chamber. Alan led her up the seven stairs and into what she could only guess was some sort of sanctuary, if the ablution basin was a clue.

  “Where do we go now?” she asked. There were two passageways off to the left and right sides of the room.

  “Let’s start here.” He led her to the passageway on the right. When they hit a wall of stone, they retraced their steps and instead took the passageway off to the left.

  They entered a large, empty space that looked almost identical to the one they’d just explored. But as Jessamine searched the empty space, a strong sense of premonition made her skin tingle. There was something different here. She stared at the only other doorway carved into the stone. The answers they sought were in there. She knew it.

  Alan appeared by her side. “Ready to explore?” he asked, stepping inside.

  Jessamine followed. They headed down another passageway that seemed to go on forever, until finally it opened into another empty chamber. This room was different from the others they’d passed through. It was carved out of the stone like the others, yet these walls were uneven and, from the looks of it, carved in haste.

  Then she saw it—a small pinprick of light emanating from a tall, narrow crack in the wall at the back of the chamber.

  “Alan?” Jessamine breathed.

  “I see it,” he said, moving past her to explore the human-sized opening. He held the lantern into the space. “It’s unfinished,” he said, bringing his free hand up to caress the poorly sculpted rock at his eye level.

  “Perhaps they grew tired of chipping away the stone,” Jessamine offered.

  “Or perhaps they wanted it to appear unfinished for a reason. We need to go inside.” Alan offered her his hand.

  She took his fingers in hers and allowed him to guide her into the dark void. Her heart raced and her palms grew damp. The space was narrow and confining, forcing them to turn to the side to slip through the rock.

  Jessamine’s breath quickened as she and Alan moved deeper and deeper into the ever-narrowing space. The wall at her back was cold. The wall at her front nearly brushed against her chest. She clung to Alan’s hand and kept moving. “If we find the ark in this place, how will we ever get it out? The walls are too narrow.”

  “Somehow it was brought in, so there must be a way to get it out,” he replied with confidence.

  Together, they felt their way along the coo
l, gritty sandstone wall. The lantern cast eerie shadows that twisted and danced with each step they took. The shuffling of their footsteps mingled with the quickened rush of their breathing. The darkness seemed to seep around them, outside the circle of light cast by the lantern. Alan’s hand became her lifeline.

  Cold dampness seeped into her clothes. Jessamine shivered. Her breath caught. She shuffled forward. “How much farther?” she whispered into the confined and darkened space.

  No sooner had the words left her lips than the passageway opened up, spilling into a small chamber. The light from the lantern splashed across the walls, painting everything in hues of coppery gold. The room was empty, just as the others had been, except tucked high into the back wall was a shelf cut into the stone. It held a small golden chest that was much too small to be the ark.

  Alan released her. He pressed the lantern into her hands and moved slowly across the chamber until he stood before the chest. He reached up and carefully removed it from the rock ledge.

  “What is it?” Jessamine asked.

  Alan turned toward her and bent, setting the small chest on the floor. “I’m not certain.” He blew the dust and sand away from the lid. No ornamentation decorated the chest. “Bring the light closer.”

  She stepped beside him as he carefully lifted the lid from the chest. Inside were twelve formed and polished colored stones.

  “What do they mean?” She set the lantern on the floor beside them.

  With a grin, he sat back on his heels and pulled the leather book from the folds of his robe. She moved to peer over his shoulder as he flipped the loose pages. When he came to a drawing of what appeared to be a ceremonial garment, he stopped.

  “What is that?” she asked. “How does it relate to what we found?”

  “These stones might not be the Ark of the Covenant, but they are a worthy find in and of themselves.” He lifted his gaze to hers. Excitement brightened his eyes. “These twelve stones are what were referred to in the Old Testament as the stones of fire. They represent the twelve tribes of Israel and were at one time set into the breastplate of the high priest. That high priest would have worn the breastplate to control the divine fire that was said to emanate from the ark.”

  “So whoever controls the stones of fire controls the ark?” Jessamine cupped her hands over his. A spark passed between them at the intimate contact. It brought a soft gasp to her lips. She should pull her hands away, stand, anything to break the contact between them. Instead, she gazed into his piercing blue eyes and felt a strange lightness at her core.

  “Aye,” he said softly. “But suddenly it’s not the ark or the stones that interest me, but something else entirely.” He abandoned the chest on the ground and stood, pulling her up with him until they faced each other, their bodies only a hairbreadth apart.

  “Jessamine. We are entering dangerous territory.” The words seemed dredged up from his very soul as he pulled her even closer, his gaze on her lips.

  She knew he didn’t mean the dangers of following the prophecy, but the dangerous way desire flared each time they touched.

  “I like adventure,” she breathed.

  No sooner had the words shivered past her lips than his mouth descended. Shock trembled through her body. All her senses were centered on the feather-light pressure of his mouth, on the teasing, taunting dalliance of his tongue as it lingered against her lips, tasted, prepared her for what was to come.

  He drew her closer, molding her to the hard contours of his body. His arms tightened and his lips slanted more forcefully over hers. Jessamine felt her knees weaken as her body became heavy and fluid as molten lead. The sensation slithered further into her with each silky, probing caress of his tongue.

  Of their own accord, her fingers spread across the rough texture of his robe and inched higher, until she clung to the powerful breadth of his shoulders. She’d never experienced the surge of liquid heat that robbed her of anything but the desire to melt against him. She wanted more of this delicious madness. Her body grew tauter, tighter, with each stroke of his tongue.

  With a groan, he broke free.

  She inhaled sharply at the abruptness of his release. He didn’t pull away, just stood there with his face poised above hers. She couldn’t see much in the shadows of the room, but she sensed a shared feeling of surprise. She wondered if the thud of his heart meant he, too, had experienced a rush of warmth and pleasure.

  She stared in fascination as he brought his fingers to her mouth, his index finger tracing the curve of her lower lip. “I apologize. I couldn’t resist.”

  A shiver of desire tumbled through her at his confession. She pressed into his touch, seeking the warmth of his flesh on hers. “Kiss me again.”

  He dropped his fingers from her lips and took a step back as if he no longer trusted himself to remain near her. “That wouldn’t be wise,” he said.

  She nodded and took two steps back, wishing the distance would quell her desire. Her heart hammered in her chest as she fisted her hands. “Because you’re a monk?”

  “That is the last thing on my mind at the moment.”

  Jessamine was stunned into silence by the harsh need in his voice. She gazed up into his face, saw the tension around his eyes, in his jaw, and knew what it cost him to hold himself back.

  She found herself at a loss, uncertain what to do or how to proceed. It would be so easy to forget about the world outside this chamber, to step back into Alan’s arms and let whatever was supposed to happen next happen. Was that part of what the prophecy demanded of her? Was that what her newfound freedom allowed? Or was she giving in to her own wants and desires? Jessamine dropped her gaze to the stone floor as her swirling senses began to return to reality.

  “What do we do next?” she asked. When she felt more in control of her emotions, she brought her gaze back to his. The shadows had returned to his eyes and his rigid stance made her heart ache. He appeared lonely somehow.

  “Let’s return to the horse,” Alan said. “I didn’t plan anything beyond the treasury. I was certain we’d find the ark here.”

  She nodded sympathetically. “Where else could we look? Petra appears to have many places where the ark could be hidden.”

  He straightened, and any hint of vulnerability vanished. “I want to consult the Templar letters. There might be a clue there.” He bent down beside the wooden chest and carefully picked up each stone, placing them into a small leather pouch attached to his belt. When he’d gathered all the stones, he replaced the lid on the chest. Standing, he returned the chest to its former resting place.

  “It would be best if we left the chest behind. The stones will be safe here with me.” His hand moved to cover the pouch at his belt.

  “Agreed,” Jessamine replied as he once again extended his hand to her. She braced herself for the flare of warmth, and there it was as she curled her fingers in his.

  “Ready?” The tension in his body vanished, and his expression became heated once more.

  She inhaled sharply at the realization that she wanted to kiss him again, just as strongly as before. She moistened her lips and nodded, not trusting her voice. Perhaps the cold, dark passageway would help her get her senses under control. But was it even possible to keep her head clear in the presence of this man? As she followed him back into the long dark void, she was starting to wonder.

  After what seemed like forever, they emerged from the back of the chamber, then retraced their steps through the maze they’d traveled until they’d reached the tomb’s entrance.

  They stepped outside. The hot afternoon air stole her breath as the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly. Alan released her hand, and she stood there for a long moment, torn between her desire to step back into the cool tomb and their need to continue the journey.

  Alan seemed unaffected by the shift in temperature as he made his way to the horse and stroked the animal’s neck. Jessamine steeled her resolve and started forward, but a sudden fierce wind whipped up the dust of the valley fl
oor, making the horse whinny and forcing Jessamine to cover her face with the crook of her arm. Hot, dry sand stung her eyes anyway. In the haze of dust, an eerie, unearthly sound rose to a high keening pitch. In the bizarre cacophony of noise, Jessamine stumbled forward.

  “Hold on!” Alan shouted from somewhere nearby. A heartbeat later, she found herself pulled against the solid wall of his chest. His arms sheltered her. His cheek rested against the top of her head. He pulled his robe up around their faces to protect them.

  He held her there until the wind subsided, and the noise ceased as suddenly as it had begun. The world stilled as the sand settled. Alan lifted his head and looked down at her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and glanced up at the towering edifice of the treasury with its staring statues. A carved eagle with a fiery orb over its head seemed poised for flight, its outstretched wings lifelike in the shimmering air. “What was that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  They stared at each other.

  “The trumpet of God,” a voice called from behind them.

  Alan released her suddenly. He twisted toward the voice and drew his sword, stepping protectively in front of her. She peeked around Alan to see an old man standing at the entrance of the tomb. He was dressed in a long white robe with a hood that came up over his head. A white beard framed his face, making him appear more like an aged scholar than any kind of threat.

  “Who are you?” Alan asked, his sword still held at the ready.

  “Where did you come from?” Jessamine stepped beside Alan. She frowned. Hadn’t she seen this man back at the Temple of Jerusalem?

  “Jessamine, get back,” Alan warned as he kept his eyes trained on the man.

  Leaning heavily on a gnarled cane, the old man stepped through the tomb’s entrance and onto the sand that a moment before had swirled about them. “I’m just an old man who knows his way around the desert. You have nothing to fear from me.”