Seducing the Knight (11 page)

Jessamine followed his example. She scooped water into her hands and splashed it over her skin. He watched the water run freely down her neck and across the rise of her breasts, and farther down. Alan swallowed roughly, this time not from thirst but from another deep-seated need.

He forced himself to his feet, putting some distance between them. “Better?” he asked.

Jessamine stood. “I didn’t think water could ever taste that good.”

“Do you need more water or rest?” Will asked. “Or would you like to move on?”

“Where do we go from here?” Alan asked, grateful for the interruption.

Will pointed to a cliff face with a flight of steps that zigzagged up the side of the mountain.

“Let’s secure the horses,” Alan replied. “It looks as though we’ll need to proceed from here on foot.” He tied the horses to the nearby shrubs. The horses paid them no heed as they munched on the blades of grass within their reach.

Dusk approached, and for a moment Alan hesitated.

“What is it?” Jessamine asked.

“I’m not certain we have enough time before nightfall to make it up the mountain and back.”

She frowned. “We’ve come all this way…”

“Perhaps, if necessary, we could remain on the mountain overnight. I’ve food and water in my saddlebag,” Alan said, hitching the bag over his shoulder.

At Jessamine’s radiant smile, all reservation faded. “Let’s go,” he said, and the three of them scrambled up the mountainside until they’d climbed to a plateau a thousand feet above the valley floor. Despite his cane, Will seemed to have no difficulty keeping up.

“Before you lies the Obelisk Terrace,” he said, pointing to an area of flat rock that stretched two hundred feet long by a hundred feet wide. Rising from the terrace were two towering pillars of solid rock. Shiny blue slabs of slate created a paving-stone walkway around the two obelisks.

“These obelisks would have been the processional
entrance to the shrine that was up there on the summit,” said Will, indicating the mountaintop, which was joined to the terrace by a narrow ridge about six hundred feet long. “The Bedouins consider this plateau to be sacred ground. They call these monuments Al-Serif, meaning ‘the feet.’ They have a tradition that God once stood astride the monuments.”

Alan’s emotions veered from elation to reservation. How did Will know so much about the area they needed to explore? The old man had referred to the Bedouins often, yet he wasn’t one.

Alan frowned. Will had done nothing but help them in their quest so far, yet Alan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something the old man wasn’t telling them about himself and where he’d come from.

And yet, staring at the summit before them, Alan wondered if the man’s origins truly mattered. His pulse raced. Had they found the right place? Will’s story confirmed the link between Jebel Madhbah and the biblical appearance of God. But even more important, the appearance of this mountain matched the description of the Mountain of God in the Old Testament. “The terrace could be where the Children of Israel stood while Moses proceeded up to the summit to receive the Ten Commandments.”

“Let’s keep going,” Jessamine said as she started up the ridge.

“What will we find up there?” Alan asked Will as they followed her up the narrow path, but the old man did not answer.

Will moved slowly along the incline. Alan fell into step behind the older man. He wanted to be nearby if Will lost his balance. None of them could afford to tumble down the mountainside, least of all Will.

The climb was harder now, and it seemed to take all
Will’s efforts to propel himself up the steep incline. After a few more steps he stopped entirely. “I’m not going to make it,” he said between harsh breaths. “You two go on without me. I’ll make my way back down…to the Obelisk Terrace and wait there.” He leaned heavily on his cane. “There’s an open-air temple up there known in ancient times as the High Place.”

Jessamine came back to them. “Is everything all right?”

“Will’s too tired to go on.” Alan studied the old man. His face had lost all color. His cheeks were gaunt. He did look tired.

“You must continue,” Will said, leaning more heavily on his cane.

Silence stretched between them until Alan reluctantly nodded. “All right. You head back down to the horses, and we’ll join you as soon as we’re able.”

“Take the time you need,” Will said. “I’ll look for shelter while you two continue to explore the temple.”

“Agreed.”

Alan watched Will shuffle away, then turned back to Jessamine. “Ready to keep going?”

At her nod, they strode up the steep incline together. As they climbed, the daylight faded. Twilight turned the sky into a brilliant array of pink and yellow interspersed with big, dark clouds. “We’d better hurry before we lose the light,” Alan warned.

“Why is it so dark?” Jessamine asked.

“I’m not certain,” he admitted. Suddenly his thoughts moved back to Jessamine’s prophecy. Wasn’t there something about thunder on the mount?

“Jessamine? What does the third stanza of the prophecy say?”

Jessamine stilled as she felt the earth tremble for a heartbeat beneath her feet. A flash of lightning streaked through the silver-gray sky. Fear tightened her throat. Then Alan was there beside her. He slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her close.

“What is it?” he asked. “Does the lightning scare you?”

She shook her head. “Do you not feel the ground tremble?”

“It’s just the storm.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Then what?” A frown creased his brow as he searched the area around them.

“I don’t know. I just felt something.” She drew a sharp breath as the earth trembled again. This time his eyes widened as the earth shook.

“Jessamine, the third stanza of the prophecy. Tell me.”

She recited the familiar words. “‘On the Mountain of God all shall be revealed when the mists of the cloud and the devouring fire meet. Day into night and night into day, a whisper of I Am That I Am will pave the way.’”

His gaze shot to the sky. “Day into night and night into day. We have to keep going.” He took her hand and guided her up the incline as another blue streak illuminated the sky.

“Isn’t it dangerous? What about the light?”

“The prophecy seems to indicate that we need to be on this mountain when the storm breaks.”

“That’s not very logical.”

“I know.” He laughed. “Perhaps you are starting to have an influence on me.” They picked their way gingerly across a patch of rough rocks.

Couldn’t he have felt her influence somewhere safe? Jessamine ducked her head as the wind picked up and tossed her long hair about her face and tugged at her clothing like tiny invisible fingers trying to hold her back.

Was it a warning?

“What if we don’t find the ark?” she asked.

“We’ll find it. We have to.” He sounded far more confident than she felt at the moment.

“We’ll find it,” Jessamine whispered, trying to convince herself of that truth. She’d trusted the prophecy to get them this far. She had to have faith. Her lungs burned and her legs trembled with exhaustion when they finally reached the summit. As they crested a ridge, another streak of light flared in the night sky and a thunderous boom sounded all around them.

Jessamine flinched and nearly lost her footing until Alan’s arm steadied her. In that brief flash of light, she saw the open-air temple before them. Tall walls arranged in a rectangle were cut from the solid stone. Rows of benches, also cut from the rock, faced a central altar with steps leading up to it.

The sky went dark. Jessamine frowned, wanting to see more of the temple complex. “Why is it so dark?”

“There are forces other than simple nature at work here, I fear.” He flashed her a confident smile. “This is the temple we’ve been searching for. Here we are in the presence of God, if all my research is correct.”

To be in the presence of the Almighty was more than a little daunting. “How will we find the ark without any light?”

“The prophecy seems to want us here during this storm. We need to trust that whatever forces brought us here will keep us safe until all is revealed.”

The wind picked up again and another flash of light ripped the darkness right beside her. A startled cry escaped her, to be silenced a heartbeat later by a thunderous crash. The hair on Jessamine’s arms stood up as an odd sensation filled the air around them.

“Come with me.” Alan took her arm. He pulled her toward one of the temple’s high stone walls that stood near the altar.

“What about Will?”

“He’s farther down the mountain. He’ll be safe there, and he’ll keep the horses calm while the storm blows itself out.”

At his words, the wind swirled around them, drawing with it the heat of the day. Alan removed his saddlebag and set it at the edge of the altar, then sat down and leaned against the wall. He motioned beside him. “If the prophecy wants us here in the temple during the storm, let’s cooperate.”

She sat and leaned into him. Her heart accelerated as he pulled her closer with an arm around her waist. His gaze fixed intently on her face.

With the flashes of light, she could see him clearly one moment, but he disappeared into shadow the next. She trembled as another flash of light brightened the sky.

“We’ve been on this quest for five days,” he shouted over the wind and thunder. “I know next to nothing about you.”

Her heart stumbled. “What are you asking?”

“Anything you want to tell me. Your favorite scent. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. About your family.” He grinned. “Anything at all.”

She flattened her hands against the rough fabric of her dress. Was it time to tell him the truth? They were too far into the journey for him to take her back to her royal family. But was that the real reason she’d kept her identity secret?

If she was honest with herself, her reluctance to tell the truth stemmed more from fear of the way he’d treat her if he knew who she was. She stared down at the large, capable hand at her waist. Would he talk to her so openly, or treat her as his equal, or touch her in the same way once he knew?

She would never know unless she took the chance and trusted him with her secrets. Yet the words would not form. Experience had taught her that people did treat her differently. Once they knew who she was, people kept her at a distance.

She didn’t want that, not here with him. She wanted to be just another female who was free to decide the course of her own life. Someone who could listen to her heart and follow its call. Tears formed in her eyes and she turned her face away.

What had he asked, her favorite scent? She swiped at her eyes, then leaned back and drew a slow, deep breath of musk and sandalwood. Her eyes drifted closed. He was her favorite scent, but she couldn’t tell him that. She opened her eyes. “I love the smell of cinnamon.” Her voice sounded raw. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice. “I don’t think I’ve yet encountered the most beautiful sight in the world. And my family…” She paused. “They meddle too much.”

He drew her more tightly against him, and despite
the storm’s song she heard his soft laughter. “Meddling isn’t bad. It sounds as if you are loved. Be grateful for that.”

“I am,” she replied, but she wanted something her birth denied her. Maybe it was a mistake to want it…and maybe it was unfair to want it from him, a man dedicated to logic and war and the divine.

She looked at the sky. Again, the lightning flashed. Was it her desire for freedom that brought them here to this moment on the mountaintop? Or was it fate that had led them to Mount Sinai?

She preferred to think that fate was in charge—or at least some force outside herself. She cast a sideways glance at Alan. Warmth stirred within her. She became acutely conscious of his hand at her waist. Of the cool sandstone beneath her. The tang of metal lingering in the air after each burst of light. The moon that hung low in the night sky and threaded Alan’s hair with streaks of silver.

His gaze met hers.

The wind kicked up again, caressing her face and throat with cooling fingers, pressing her gown against her breasts. Her nipples grew taut. She sucked in a startled breath at the sensation.

“Jessamine?” His voice sounded thick.

He could sense her desire. She scrambled to her feet. Sitting beside him was every bit as dangerous as the lightning overhead.

Alan followed her up and reached for her hand. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was certain he could hear it above the booming thunder.

He touched her throat with a light caress. A primal shudder went through her. Her nipples responded again, straining against her gown.

She could feel him against her. She could smell him
in the darkness. Musk and sandalwood and moonlight. She closed her eyes, allowing the scents to lure her in.

She should resist him.

He should resist her.

For one breathless moment the world fell silent. Then his lips claimed hers. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. His hands slid up her body to settle at the sides of her breasts, and Jessamine felt all her will, all her resistance, crumble. She kissed him back with her whole being. She didn’t care about anything but his touch in the darkness. The dark would hide them—hide their secrets and all the reasons they shouldn’t be together.

Thunder sounded all around them as she brushed her lips over his, teasing, taunting. He groaned and cupped her face with his hand, pulled her tight against the hard length of him. He held her without kissing her, as though waiting for something.

He was so near, scarcely a breath away. A flash of lightning showed his eyes filled with desire. Then a low, guttural sound escaped him as he nuzzled her neck and pressed a heated kiss to her cheek, her chin, her jaw, and finally her neck. When he kissed his way to the small incision he’d made in her neck, he paused and nipped her ever so gently.

“Alan.” His name was a plea for something she couldn’t name.

Alan curled his fingers in her hair. He brought a thick lock up to trace the rise of her breasts that peeked above her gown. It was not her shiver that startled him as much as the tingling in his own hand. It was as if his fingers had been frozen and were now coming painfully back to life. The strands of her hair flowed against his skin like warmed treacle.

The tingling spread from his fingers to his wrists and arms. His loins were aching, the muscles of his belly
knotting. For a man who was always in control of his responses, he had to admit he had no control now. He found himself trembling. Alive.

A flash of white light streaked through the night sky, followed immediately by a thunderous boom. Alan’s fear was not of the storm, but of rejection. “No second thoughts?” he asked, his voice guttural.

“None.”

The word had barely formed before he grasped the edge of her gown and pulled it up over her head, leaving her dressed in only the sheer fabric of her chemise. He couldn’t hold himself back. He needed to see her—all of her.

Lightning flashed as she stood before him. Through the thin, pale fabric, he could see the faint outline of her body, her dusky nipples, and a darker thatch at the apex of her thighs. Forcing himself to go slow, he slipped the chemise up over her thighs, her breasts, her head.

Freed from her clothes, she was a true and utter goddess. Perfect. Small and delicate. Her taut breasts were round and firm and crowned with darker peaks that flowed down to a flat stomach and a small waist, then widened to rounded hips. His gaze moved down to her exquisite thighs and the black curls that shadowed her womanhood. His blood pounded through his veins.

Had he ever wanted anything more?

Your vows,
a voice deep inside cautioned. He curled his fists at his sides. His chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing. He had tossed his vows aside the moment he touched Jessamine on the battlefield. He’d turned away from his brothers and everything to do with his old life.

He was not the same man he’d been five days ago. He’d been an empty shell before. The man who stood
here now wanted to fill that shell. He wanted to feel alive. He wanted to start anew.

With her.

He unlatched his belt and set his sword at his feet. His boots came off next. He shed the rest of his clothes in the space of a heartbeat, then scooped her into his arms. He carried her to the stone depression behind the altar. In earlier times it would have been used for the sacrifice of animals. He forced the thought away. They would sacrifice themselves to each other tonight—their old lives would be forever behind them and they would emerge renewed.

Again the lightning flared and thunder shook the ground. Jessamine gasped, not from the storm, but from the sensation of Alan’s flesh against her own. She could feel the dark curly hair of his chest pressed against the side of her breast, his warm muscular arm curled around her naked back. Heat. Desire. Hunger. She pressed against him, needing to be nearer.

When he set her down on a smooth slab of sandstone, she nearly cried out because the stone took his warmth from her. Then, banishing the cold, he joined her, his lips exploring her shoulder, her torso, her breasts. His tongue flicked her sensitive nipples slowly, relishing the taste and texture of her skin.

Jessamine gasped. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She wanted him closer, beside her, inside her. She’d heard the courtiers talk about sex before, and she’d always wondered what the fuss was all about. Now she understood. It was as if a fever had taken hold of her body, heating her, devouring her, stealing all but the desire to merge with him, become one.

She arched up to him, and his mouth closed over her breast. He suckled first one breast, then the other. Flame
shot through her. She cried out, arching against his mouth. “What is it, Alan? Why do I feel so strange? It’s as if something is missing. I want more,” she gasped.

“I’ve not been celibate all my life. There’s plenty more, I promise.” His tone was as velvet soft as his calloused hands glided over her stomach to nestle in the curls at the center of her womanhood, tangling, caressing, probing as he flicked her nipples with his tongue.

Her heart pounded painfully. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only react. She reached for his shoulders, delighting as his muscles bunched and relaxed beneath her touch. Emboldened by her desire, she slid her hands across his chest to his abdomen, and curled her fingertips in the V of dark hair that gathered at the apex of his sex, moved farther down until her hand wrapped around his pulsing hardness.

He released a low, throaty sound, and his fingers moved deeper into her curls and parted her flesh, searching.

The muscles of her stomach clenched and convulsed. He stroked her. Just when she grew used to his rhythm, he changed it, keeping her at the brink of something, waiting, waiting…for what?

Again the lightning and thunder sounded all around them as Alan spread her thighs, his palm running feverishly up and down her flesh until he delved two fingers inside and sank deep. She arched up against his hand helplessly as his rhythm escalated. Her hands moved back to his shoulders, clenched, held on as her head thrashed from side to side. “It’s too much,” she cried. “Too intense.”