Seducing the Knight (6 page)

The fist-sized orb of blue light came closer, until it hovered at Alan’s eye level. The odd light hung there, as though waiting. Alan stepped away from Jessamine, drew his sword, then positioned himself in front of her.

Jessamine felt her mouth part in wonder. Despite the nervousness that rooted her to the ground, she could honestly say she wasn’t afraid. A strange kind of calm descended over her in the light’s presence. The blue orb moved from Alan to her.

He shifted, and raised his sword. Jessamine stilled his movements with a hand on his sword arm. “I don’t think it wants to hurt us,” she whispered.

“That’s good, because I doubt my sword will have any effect on it.” A heartbeat later, the blue orb swirled around both their heads, then spiraled into the night sky and disappeared.

Jessamine stood silent, staring into the dark space the light had just occupied. The soft whoosh of leather against steel sounded as Alan sheathed his sword.

“It’s a sign,” she whispered.

“Of what?” he asked.

“That we are blessed.”

Alan shook his head. “Sometimes, there is no meaning behind things that happen.”

“I refuse to believe that. The blue light meant something special.” She straightened and turned to face him.

“I’m taking it as a sign that we’re on the right track with our quest. It’s one more affirmation that destiny is showing us the way.”

“Believe what you like.” He motioned with his hand toward the rock outcropping behind them. “Come, let’s try to get some rest, even if neither of us can sleep. We’ll need to start off early tomorrow morning to make certain we stay ahead of your bridegroom.”

“He’s not my bridegroom.”

He released a soft chuckle. “It was a joke.”

“Not a funny one,” she replied as they repositioned themselves on the ground. “Where do we go next?”

He leaned his head back against the rock and with his hand beckoned her to lean against his shoulder. She stiffened. How she wanted to lay her head down on his shoulder, but she knew she must not. Touching him now, when she was tired and still baffled by the mysterious light, might prove a dangerous combination. She had to resist what he offered.

“Tomorrow morning we enter the Judean wilderness on the western side of the Dead Sea.”

“Why? Is that where you believe the Ark of the Covenant is?”

“It’s where the clues lead.”

Silence hovered between them for a time as the stars glittered and the heat of the day slipped away to leave a bitter chill. “Alan?” Jessamine sat up. “Why do you think the prophecy brought us together?”

In the half-light provided by the stars, his features shuttered. “It was the war, not the prophecy that brought us together.”

“I don’t believe that any more than I believe the blue light was nothing but a coincidence,” she said softly. She leaned back slightly and studied the man beside her. His eyes were his most arresting feature—as light
as the sky one moment, and as dark as midnight the next. His eyes commanded attention, and at times seemed to probe too deeply. His gaze moved over her now, assessing her. Did he find her wanting?

“I’m your partner in this quest, just as the prophecy revealed,” he said.

“But you don’t believe in the prophecy,” she reminded him.

“I believe in God, not in fate or destiny. I believe in things I can see and touch.”

She laughed. “And you’ve seen God, have you?”

A dark look crossed his features. He grasped a handful of sand and allowed it to run through his fingers to the ground. “Nay, but I can see the proof of God in this sand and the rock at my back. I can see his goodness in your eyes, and feel his divine presence in the whisper of the night air.”

“I believe in all that, and more.” She leaned her head back against the rock. “Sometimes there are other forces that guide our lives. It’s been my experience that people are led to the things they need. They must then open their eyes and accept the gifts they’ve been given. It’s not some divine being who’s acting on their behalf, it’s free will. People are given choices that determine what happens next in their lives.” She let her words trail off at the irritated scowl he turned on her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “Fine. We are at an impasse. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Aye, we’ll drop it for now,” he replied with a thicker brogue than usual.

Silence hung heavy between them until finally he sighed. “If you want me to believe in the prophecy, then tell me what else it foretells, more slowly this time.”

Was he laughing at her again, or was he truly interested? Jessamine frowned. “The second stanza of the
prophecy talks of a mount or, I’ve always assumed it to mean, a mountain.”

“Tell me.”

“‘Thunder and lightning, a cloud upon the mount, and the voice of the trumpet shall call out loud. Only without sight will you know what is real and bring to the world the hidden seal.’” The words rolled off her tongue as they had so many times before, except now they had meaning and context. Alan had said they were heading into the wilderness—mountainous wilderness, from what she’d seen before the sun had set. “Does that make sense to you?”

He nodded. “In my research, I came across a reference to the trumpet of God found in the ancient city of Petra.”

“Petra?” she asked.

“The city of stone.”

Jessamine had no idea what or where Petra was, but the very word sounded exotic. She stared out into the vast expanse of darkness and felt her tension and nervousness evaporate. The conde would never find her in the wilderness. She was safe to follow the prophecy and her own dreams.

Jessamine shifted away from Alan and settled against the rock at her back, careful not to touch any part of him. She needed the distance to center her thoughts—something she found increasingly harder to do when Alan touched her.

She tipped her head to look at the wondrous display of stars overhead. The sky was so immense, the stars were so sharp, so clear. She felt as though she were falling into those stars instead of looking up at them. A sense of awe moved through her, and for the first time she felt a touch of gratitude toward the conde. If he hadn’t come after her, she would never have found the
courage to leave her uncle or her home, to follow the prophecy.

She drew a deep breath and quietly reveled in the breeze that brushed against her cheeks in soft, cool waves. The night stilled and she heard the ripple of the leaves in the distant acacia trees, the slip of the sand as it drifted across the desert floor. And beside her, she heard the soft cadence of Alan’s breathing. The sounds were hypnotic, lulling her into a quiet peacefulness where sleep awaited.

Alan came awake with a start. Nothingness curled around him. The stars had faded from the night sky. The world around him seemed suddenly thick and suffocating. The air held a tension that had not been there before. He felt swallowed by the nothingness, surrounded, watched. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword as his heart sped up. The sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He’d felt such nothingness many times just before an enemy struck. It was as if the physical world could sense the coming conflict, the pain, the death, and responded with silence.

Nay!
He chided himself, trying to banish his fears. Someone was out there, but this was no war. He was in control of the situation because he’d been warned. He gripped his sword and silently withdrew it from its sheath. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could now make out the dark shape of the rock behind him, the trees in the distance. The world was not black but a deep, hazy gray. Alan focused his thoughts and listened to the only other recognizable sound—the regular intake and release of Jessamine’s breathing.

He slid his fingers to the left until he felt the warmth of her body. To his surprise, her fingers tightened
around his own. She hadn’t been asleep. She must have felt it too, the odd tension in the air.

At the snap of a branch, Alan tightened his fingers around hers, then released them. Their eyes met in the darkness. He could see fear in her expression. He prayed she could see the silent warning in his. “Whatever happens, stay behind me,” he whispered in an almost imperceptible tone.

She nodded. Together they stood. With a tip of his head, he signaled toward the horse. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as the awareness of others pressed in upon him once more. Robbers? An ambush? The Moors’ attack still lingered fresh in his mind as grief clawed at his senses. He’d abandoned his Templar brothers.

The breath caught in his chest as pain swamped him, weighed him down. He staggered to one side. He’d failed to keep them safe. Images of their torn and bleeding bodies battered at the closed door of his mind, slipping through the cracks, drawing strength from his remorse. The pain of grief flashed through him with blinding force. His sword was too heavy.

Then the warmth of Jessamine’s hand curled around his elbow, her grip strong and supportive. He clung to the sensation, allowed it to ease the pain in his soul. His breathing slowed, his strength returned. The darkness of the night seemed to ease as pale moonlight spilled across the desert sand at their feet.

That hell lay behind him. Jessamine was here with him now. No harm would come to her. Not while he could do something to prevent it. Alan concentrated on the sounds of the night, the soft shuffle of feet coming from the west. One man, two, three. They approached slowly, like snakes ready to strike.

Alan tightened his grip on his sword. He was ready.

A flicker of movement came on the left. Farther back on the right a streak of black appeared.

A flash of light illuminated the area as one of the men lit a torch. Three men dressed in dark clothing approached. Each held a hooked sword in his hand. Alan’s heart thudded. He forced his breathing to slow, centered his thoughts, allowed the men to come closer, step by step.

Jessamine remained silent, but her body tensed, waiting.

For a brief moment he considered fighting them, then banished the thought. Three men to one. He couldn’t endanger Jessamine that way, not when they could reach the horse and escape. Alan waited until the invaders massed together as the rocks narrowed. The closer they were to each other, the harder it would be for them to maneuver. Two more steps and Alan darted backward, taking Jessamine with him.

He reached the horse and tossed her onto the animal’s back. As he joined her, the horse surged forward, understanding Alan’s unspoken command. The two lurched into the darkness, away from the men who closed in on them.

Angry shouts filled the night air. The men raced forward, but they were too late. Alan guided the horse around a rock outcropping. A man’s shape separated itself from the dark mass. He leaped from the rock, toward them. Alan managed to maneuver the horse away before the man could pull either him or Jessamine to the ground.

“Hold tight to the horse’s mane,” Alan warned Jessamine as he kicked the horse into a gallop. They flew across the sand, illuminated only by a pale silver light. Shadows cast by rocks or brush or possible brigands appeared at every turn. Alan tensed as they passed each
one, fearing more attackers. Another rock outcropping appeared ahead. He gave it a wide berth as they sailed by.

Another man leaped out at them. He stepped toward the horse but didn’t attack. Instead, the man raised a tube-shaped object to his lips.

Jessamine gasped. Her hand moved to her neck a moment before she collapsed against the horse.

“Jessamine.” Alan searched the darkness ahead and headed the horse farther into the desert, away from the attackers. He clung to Jessamine’s body as she sagged against the animal. Had they used poison? If that was the case, she needed immediate help. But he couldn’t stop now. “I’m here with you,” he said, more for his own comfort than hers. He had to put some distance between them and their attackers.

She lay so still, her weight tugging against his arm. Even in the hazy darkness he could see a protrusion at the side of her neck and feel the trickle of blood that slid down her skin and onto his. They’d hit her with some sort of blow dart.

Alan maneuvered the horse back toward the rocks. He had to find a cave. The Judean wilderness was riddled with them. “Hold on, Jessamine.”

It didn’t take long to find a cave that looked deep enough to hide the two of them along with the horse. He circled the area several times, laying down several sets of tracks. It would do no good to enter the cave to treat Jessamine’s wounds if it became a trap for them both. When he was certain no one would be able to follow his trail, he headed back for the cave.

Once they were shielded by the darkness, Alan dismounted with Jessamine cradled in his arms. As he set her down, her head lolled back. Silver light from the moon illuminated the cave, and he could see her skin was a pale, deathly white.

He quickly grasped the edge of the dart that protruded from her neck and yanked it out. She flinched. In the next heartbeat he flicked the dart against the tip of his tongue. Snake venom mixed with something else he couldn’t identify—some other poison that had robbed her of consciousness.

He knew what he must do. He drew his sword and set it on the ground beside him, then withdrew his dagger from his boot. With a steady hand, he traced the tiny puncture wound in her neck with the edge of the blade, drawing a rivulet of blood. Setting his dagger on the ground beside her head, he brought his lips to the new incision and sucked the poison from the wound. As his mouth filled, he spat the blood onto the ground and repeated the process. Over and over he drew the venomous blood from her system until the bleeding slowed.

Carefully he set her head down on the sand, then stood. He moved to the horse and removed a bladder of water from the saddlebag along with a smaller bag containing crystallized honey before he returned to her side. He cleansed the wound with water, then wiped it dry before applying a poultice of honey. He’d learned on the battlefield that honey helped to draw putrefaction from the body. Perhaps it would have the same effect on poison.

When he was through, he wrapped a clean strip of linen loosely about her neck, then sat upon the ground and positioned Jessamine’s head in the crook of his legs, cradling her gently. He’d done all he could for her. Now time would be either his friend or enemy.