No Price Too High (16 page)

Melisande bit back her retort as she hooked her
yashmak
across her face. She was the daughter of an earl who held a title as old as England. She was a Hospitaller, a sworn warrior of the Cross. This she would endure with dignity and courage—and by ignoring Falla's jubilation.

Melisande signaled to Karim Pasa to open the door.

His hand trembled as he held the door. He hesitated before he opened the door leading to Gabriel's rooms. “I am sorry, milady. If I could halt this, I would.”

She longed to comfort him when she saw his kind face crumble and his lip quiver, but could not offer him solace when she had none to give.

She entered Gabriel's bedchamber. The door closing behind her threatened her precarious self-control.

“Ah, my lovely, here you are.”

Melisande stared at Yasin ibn Hayyan. Although his guttural accent distorted the Frankish words, she could understand him. Years of riding the sun-heated hills had wrinkled his skin like leather. Gray streaked his thinning hair, but he was firmly muscled.

Crossing the room, he frowned when she did not kneel. Then he asked eagerly, “Are you untouched?”

“No.” She had been touched by Gabriel's tender fingers. Her heart had been touched by his kindness. But that was over! He had betrayed her as no other had.

“I should have known Gabriel would have enjoyed you.”

“He and others.” She sought for any excuse to decrease her value. More lies—but if he believed them, she might end this.

His brow rutted. “Others? I understood it is a matter of honor among the
Franj
to keep their women virgins until marriage.”

Walking away from him and the bed, she shrugged, making certain the mantle did not slide off her shoulder. “That may be the way of the
Franj
, but I do not agree.”

He grasped her shoulders and spun her into his arms. “So, you cannot control your passions, fiery one?”

“No!” she cried. “That wasn't what I meant.”

She could not escape from his lips as they ground down into hers as if he wanted to break her teeth. She moaned in terror; but as he drew away, she saw that he thought she shared his lust. Taking her hand, he jerked her toward the bed.

“Lie down, my fiery one.”

“No.” She was the daughter of the Earl of Heathwyre. She was a Hospitaller. She would not deny her past as Gabriel did. “Don't touch me.”

His smile vanished, replaced by a fearsome scowl. His hand rose. She ran to the far side of the bed and reached for a knife that had been left by a tray of food.

“Lie down,” he snarled.

“No! I won't do … that. You are a disgusting old bat and I will die before I let you touch me again.”

“Then you shall die, woman.” He pulled another knife from his robes. “What a shame it will be to kill one as lovely as you, but I cannot let you live after your insults.”

She wanted to scream. Karim Pasa would come in and save her. Wouldn't he? Anything … anyone … She knew she was fooling herself. No one would interrupt.

He slashed toward her with the knife. She jumped back, then shrieked as she bumped into a table. It teetered and fell, tripping her. Conquest burned in his eyes as he rushed toward her.

She raised her knife and called out Heathwyre's battle cry. He stared at her in astonishment. She scrambled to her feet and held the knife in front of her. She did not want to kill him. She only wanted to escape.

Again he tried to slice into her. With a curse, she drove her knife through his sleeve and into the bedpost. She turned to flee. Strong hands caught her, halting her. She fought to get away, but froze when she heard “Enough!”

She stared at Gabriel as he released her. Going to the bed, he pulled the knife from the caliph's sleeve and tossed it onto a table.

The caliph growled and pushed past Gabriel, raising his knife again.

“Enough,” Gabriel repeated without emotion.

“She is mine,” the caliph argued. “It is as you agreed, de la Rive. The first of your women through that door was mine.”

Gabriel crossed the room and, with an eye-blurring motion, caught Melisande's arm in his powerful grip. He ignored her wince as he said, “This is not one of my women.” He clapped his hands, and the door from the
mabeyin
opened.

Melisande stared as Karim Pasa and an obviously chastised Falla entered. The
ikbal
did not glance in her direction, and Karim Pasa's face could have been carved from a tile.

Falla slithered across the floor and dropped gracefully to her knees at the caliph's feet. She pressed her forehead to his sandals.

Yasin ibn Hayyan ignored her. He glared at Gabriel. “You intend to go back on your bargain? You said the first among your women. Is your
Franj
blood turning you into a liar?”

Melisande swallowed her gasp as Gabriel's fingers dug more deeply into her arm. His face was as dispassionate as Karim Pasa's, but the insult hurt him. Only now did she understand why he—like his father—had turned his back on the ways of the
Franj
. There was no common ground, just hatred. He could not be both; so, he had chosen the only world he had ever known.

“This is the one who calls herself my
ikbal
,” he said, his voice as tranquil as his expression. “Surely she is the first among my women.”

At the mention of Falla's status in the
harim
, the caliph's eyes glowed with anticipation. He bent and drew Falla to her feet. She did not protest as he pulled off her
yashmak
and pressed his mouth over hers. When Falla's fingers slipped within his robes, he murmured, “It is agreed.”

Melisande stumbled as Gabriel pushed her toward Karim Pasa, who caught her and hurried her to the door. She teetered again when she heard Gabriel say, “I thought you would find this solution most satisfactory.”

“Come with me, milady,” Karim Pasa urged. His brawny arm herded her out of the bedchamber.

Groping for the single bench, she sat and leaned her head against the cool wall. As she closed her eyes and shivered, Karim Pasa lifted her
yashmak
to secure it over her face.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

When her hand was taken and pressed to smooth skin, Melisande opened her eyes to see Karim Pasa on his knees before her. She wanted to urge him to rise, to rejoice that she had been spared, but she had no strength.

“Forgive me, milady,” he whispered. “Punish me as you wish.”

“Why would I wish to punish you? I am sure you petitioned Gabriel on my behalf to arrange …” She waved at the door. “I would appreciate your opening the door to the
harim
.”

“No need, Karim Pasa. I shall assist her.”

Karim Pasa half-rose in an awkward effort to turn and bow to Gabriel at the same time.

Melisande glanced up in astonishment. Lost in the remnants of terror, she had not heard Gabriel come into the
mabeyin
.

Gabriel added nothing as the door to the
harim
closed behind Karim Pasa. Then he held out his hand. She put her fingers in his and let him bring her to her feet. She locked her knees, so they would not betray her.

“
az-Zahra
?”

She smiled. “I will be fine, Gabriel.”

“I was sure you would. You are a strong woman.”

“And you?”

“Me?” He seemed astounded by her question. A hint of a grin tilted his mustache. “I, too, am fine.”

She whispered, “Thank you.”

“This is not the place to speak of such things.” He glanced at the door behind him. His stiff jaw was accented by his ebony beard. “Let us go elsewhere.”

“Yes.” When he reached for the door next to his, she gasped, “Where are we going? The
harim
is through there.” She pointed to the door Karim Pasa had used.

Cupping her chin in his hand, he stared at her bemusedly. “Melisande, you have seen more of the world than anyone within these walls,” he said, “yet you have the innocence of a child. All the doors here, save the one to my rooms, open to the
harim
. The only way out of the
harim
is through my rooms.”

She shook her head. “You know that is not so. When I arrived here, you took me to my rooms through—” She stared as he opened the door to reveal her own bedchamber, which was filling with shadows as night slipped into the
harim
.

“I thought you would have argued about this with me before now.” He chuckled softly. “But it is clear you were so upset upon your arrival that you did not take note of the unique shape of the
mabeyin
then.”

She looked from her door to his. Only the bench separated them. “I had no idea your rooms and mine were so close.”

“Not close enough.” His fingers stroked her cheek as he drew her into her rooms. Shutting the door, he framed her face with his hands. “My
az-Zahra
…”

“How could you let this happen?” cried a voice behind him.

Melisande rocked back against the door as Gabriel released her and turned. She saw Lysias kneeling by the bed, her face red where hot tears had scored it. “Go to her,” she whispered.

He touched her cheek again, then went to squat beside Lysias. “Do not weep, Mother.”

“How can I not weep when I see you being a fool?”

“A fool?” He glanced at Melisande, who edged toward them. “I believe I have never been so wise.”

“Is it wisdom to obtain the caliph's help in halting the hill bandits by giving him the woman who haunts your dreams?” Lysias looked up when Melisande could not silence her gasp. “Melisande! Child, what are you doing here?”

Gabriel answered before she could. “Mother, I learned much from you and the
shaykh
.”

Melisande was baffled for a moment, then realized he spoke of his father. When Lysias began to smile, the twinkle in her eyes was identical to her son's. He aided her to her feet. Her fingers touched his arm only briefly, but the affection between them was as clear as if it had been shouted from the wall.

“You have done well, my son.” She brushed her fingers against Melisande's arm before walking out of the room.

Gabriel slipped his arm around Melisande's waist. “It is not difficult to do well when the prize is so sweet.” His lips grazed her cheek.

She shivered with the longing that never could be hidden when she was in his arms. “The prize?”

“The prize you will give me for keeping you out of Yasin's bed.” He scattered kisses along her neck.

“What prize is that?” she whispered, although she knew. Slipping her arms up his, she sighed when his tongue slid along her ear.

“The sweetest prize of all.” He sifted his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back so she was imprisoned once more by his hungry gaze. “Be mine,
az-Zahra
.”

“I cannot help you defeat the hill bandits.”

“You can help me satisfy this craving for the pleasure only you can give me.” His kisses against her eyelids were as hot as his touch. “Do not speak of the battles beyond these walls. When I ride the hills, I think often of being here.” In a voice thick with yearning, he said, “And I think of you,
az-Zahra
, and how your heart calls to mine to return to you and the welcome of your arms.”

Her hand rose to his cheek as he unhooked her
yashmak
. It fluttered aside like a butterfly, forgotten as she became a part of his heated gaze. “I feared you were dead,” she whispered. “You were gone so long, and no one heard word of your efforts to capture Abd al Qadir.”

“I have no desire to speak of the hill bandits,” he murmured.

“Because it reminds me that I should hate you?”

“But you do not hate me any longer.” His mustache teased her skin as he found the point along her neck where her pulse throbbed in anticipation of his touch.

She laughed. “Must you make it sound that I am wrong not to hate you?”

His hands moved in a lazy circle along her waist. “I feared you did when you obeyed the one order I knew you must hate more than any other.” His thumbs curved up along her side as he whispered, “I never expected you to go to Yasin ibn Hayyan.”

“I thought I had no choice.”

“You didn't.” He laughed, his eyes sparkling like twin stars. “But why didn't you act as you usually do and resist every edict with your
Franj
stubbornness?”

“I thought …” Her voice faded away as she stepped out of his arms. Looking at the wall that must be between her bedchamber and his, she leaned her head on the bed's post.

His hand against her cheek brought her to face him. “You thought that I wanted you to submit to the caliph?” He chuckled without amusement. “I must ask you what my mother asked me. Where is your wisdom,
az-Zahra
? I cannot believe that you would think I would give you to another.”

“Not even for help in stopping the hill bandits?” She wanted to believe him, but he had been false with her so often. “You sent no order for me to stay away. How was I to know you did not want me to go to him?”

The tip of his finger touched the shadows between her breasts. “Listen to your heart.” His finger moved to stroke her breast. When she sighed with unrestrained longing, he whispered, “In it, you will hear mine calling to you.”

“I have not dared to listen.”

“Then heed this.” He tugged her into his arms, his mouth capturing hers with the ease he had captured her heart. She softened against him, wanting what had frightened her before. Losing control of herself in his arms would be the most dangerous thing she could do, but not giving herself to this craving would be worse.

“Melisande! I—”

Gabriel growled under his breath at the interruption. He frowned at the young woman standing in the doorway. Her eyes were wide with dismay as she looked from him to Melisande before dropping to kneel on the floor. He repeated the curse under his breath when Melisande rushed to the woman. He was not sure of her name until Melisande spoke it.