The Spymaster's Protection (11 page)

Her assailant was small, but agile, completely
indistinguishable in his all black attire. He was a quick and efficient fighter,
and the Templar had his hands full with him. Both men held long dagger-like
blades and slashed at each other whenever space between them allowed it.
Shivering with fear, Gabrielle prayed vigorously for her defender.

Lucien de Aubric moved with deadly grace and agility. It was
obvious that he knew how to street fight. At one point he leapt up the wall she
was pressed against and somersaulted over her attacker’s head to come up behind
him. He might have killed the man then, but the dark-clad villain whirled just
in time to deflect the downward thrust of the Templar blade.

Both men fought for supremacy. At last, Brother Lucien managed
to push the attacker backward and wrestle him to the ground. Grunting and
cursing, they struggled for a short while in the dirt until Lucien landed on
top of the man, raised his long knife, and brought it down with a forceful
plunge straight into the man’s chest.

Gabrielle heard the dying man’s final gurgling breath, and
shuddered as she silently uttered a prayer for his soul. The blackness of the
night became a godsend, for she was quite sure she did not want to see what lay
before her.

She heard Brother Lucien’s breath rasping in and out of his
lungs and stepped over to him to determine if he was injured. Lifting a
trembling hand to his face, she inquired after him.

“I'm fine; just a nick or two. Nothing life threatening,"
he reassured her, staring at her with an equal measure of concern. “And you,
Gabrielle? Are you hurt?”

She realized it was the first time he had used her given name,
and liked the way it flowed over his tongue. She assured him she was unhurt,
though she was shaking so hard, her voice uttered the words in broken cadence.

Lucien opened his arms to her in silent invitation, and she
stepped into them without a moment’s hesitation. They closed around her with
fierce tenderness as she huddled against him.

Beneath the white wool of his surcoat, she felt the heat and
solidity of him. She pressed her face against his heart and heard its strong
steady rhythm. Gradually, her fear ebbed away, leaving her aware of a multitude
of pleasurable sensations.

Gabrielle had never experienced physical pleasure from a man.
The way she felt in this Templar’s arms was an entirely new sensation, a heady
one at that. Treacherous thoughts of what it might feel like to have his large
hands stroking over her seeped into her mind. She didn’t want to step out of
his arms, but she knew she must before she did something stupid and dangerous,
like invite further intimacy.

“This is the second time God has answered my plea for help
with you, Brother de Aubric,” she said, more than a little awestruck by the
realization. “I’m not sure what to make of this.”

Her nervous laugh was matched by the deep husky timbre of his
much earthier chuckle. “I do not know what to make of this, either, mi’lady,
but it seems fate has chosen me to act as your guardian. I cannot say that I
mind.”

Gabrielle caught his hand and saw that his leather gloves had
been sliced by her attacker’s knife. Beneath, his knuckles were bleeding. She
immediately pulled the long sleeve of her gown over their scraped surface. “I
definitely do not mind, frère. I believe I would be dead twice over, if not for
your timely intervention. Again, I thank you, and yet it seems so little.”

“Come.” Lucien put a hand to the small of her back and urged
her toward his horse. “I will see you safely home.”

Once seated behind him, Gabrielle answered his questions about
what had happened. “My guards and the slaves carrying my litter vanished into
the dark as if someone had snatched them into the air. I saw no sign of them
anywhere. It is most troubling, and I am not given to flights of fancy.”

“I think the whole incident was well planned. That man who
attacked you was an assassin; one of Rashid Sinan’s fanatical followers. They
do not roam the streets of Jerusalem at night without purpose.”

“My God!” Gabrielle felt her world tilt. She knew about the
infamous Syrian assassin sect. Who in the Levant did not? “Once paid, they do
not stop pursuit until their victim has been killed. I have heard Reynald talk
of them. Their fee is very great. Someone must truly want me dead.”

“I wish that you did not have to know this, lady, but it is
best that you do, so that you will be on constant guard.”

Lucien felt her grip on his waist tighten. Pressed so close,
he could feel her renewed trembling. She had every right to be terrified. Being
the target of one of Sinan’s Assassins was the same as a death sentence. He was
fairly certain the man who had contracted for her death was her degenerate
husband. His behavior tonight had been too suspicious.

But he was not going to let her handle this alone. Somehow he
would deal with this for her. For tonight, though, he needed to get her safely
home, and make sure she was watched closely until he discovered who was behind
this. Hopefully, by tomorrow, he would have a plan in place to protect her, and
in the meantime, he would let Hazir know where to reach him if there was
further trouble.

+++

The following morning Gabrielle awoke tormented by a night
full of terrible dreams of death. They left her feeling helpless and
frightened. Despair threatened to overwhelm her as she began to realize the
only person who could afford an Assassin and who wanted to be rid of her was the
man who held all legal rights over her. All of the freedom she had struggled to
acquire for herself these past five years could vanish in an instant if Reynald
decided to curb it. She literally lived by his whim. He was such a powerful
man. Who would dare to challenge what he chose to do with her?

While he could not openly murder her without consequence, he
could have her killed and cover his involvement, probably with very little
suspicion cast upon himself. Afterall, she traveled about the city and the countryside
virtually alone. She made it easy for him to permanently dispose of her. And
she knew his motive. With her dead, he would be free to expand his holdings
into Hebron by marrying Lady Silvia. God help her! Why had he waited this long?
She wondered if the lone bowman in the olive grove at the scene of the caravan
raid had been sent by her husband.

Dear Lord! She had to find a way to protect herself from
Reynald! He had nearly destroyed her life twelve years ago. She was not going
to let him terminate it now.

She was climbing out of her bed when she heard a commotion
downstairs. By the time she slipped into her silk robe, her husband was
charging up the stairway. She braced herself and fought a wave of fear and
nausea as she heard him shout her name at the top of the landing.

Hazir opened her door and preceded him into the room, only to
be pushed forcefully aside as Reynald strode past him. Her father was on his
heels, with Hazir’s grown daughter, Sadhira, coming up worriedly behind him.

Gabrielle was grateful for the presence of her friends, though
she knew she should dismiss them immediately to protect them from Reynald’s
wrath. Belting her robe about her waist, she faced her fuming husband with as
much calm as she could muster.

Her mind warned caution, but her battered emotions prompted
her to lash back at Reynald. She was sick unto death of his intimidation. And
her father, despicable man that
he
was, could not be expected to ever
come to her defense. As always she was alone. At least Reynald could not
strangle her in front of Hazir and Sadhira.

“What do I owe this gentle morning greeting to, Reynald?”

He glowered at her and barked a response. “I hear you were
attacked last night by an Assassin.”

“An Assassin, you say? I did not realize I merited such
expense. And you are so swiftly informed of events that occurred but a few
hours past. How is that, Reynald?”

“I’m not here to answer your questions,” he replied arrogant,
his jaw locked in anger.

“Have you found the two guards and the slaves that you assigned
me last night? Apparently all four men vanished as if they had been plucked
from the streets by an invisible hand?”

Her sarcasm earned her a clenched fist, which thankfully
remained at his side for the time being. “There has been no sign of the guards
or the slaves carrying your litter. And the news is all over the palace this
morning. It seems Lucien de Aubric was asking questions as the cock crowed.
What has that damned Templar got to do with you, wife?”

Gabrielle hated his use of the word. It had never been spoken
to her in love or tenderness, only in subjugation. “He came along last night
and assisted me. If not for him, I would be dead now, husband!” she unwisely
spat back.

Her husband was a big man, and he was still very vigorous, far
from enfeebled. The sharpness in her tone was irritating him, she could see. He
took a menacing step toward her, putting her within arm’s reach. Out of the
corner of her eye, she saw Hazir suddenly leave the room. Reynald saw it, too,
and laughed disdainfully, muttering a racial slur under his breath.

“What is this we hear about de Aubric rescuing a caravan you
were traveling with a few weeks ago?” her despicable father demanded.

Gabrielle shifted her gaze to him. He was an age with Reynald,
though he, too, looked far from nearing three score. His sandy brown hair was
graying at the temples, and he had a shorter, more wiry build. He wasn’t a bad
looking man, just a bad tempered one. Gabrielle had never thought she looked
much like him. She had also never cared one bit for him, and there had been
many times when she had fantasized about him not being her real father.

“He and several Templars were on patrol when they intercepted
the merchant caravan I was traveling with as it was being attacked by bandits.”

“Have I not told you that you may do this godforsaken work
with these heathen children only as long as it does not embarrass me? Talk of
de Aubric’s heroics and your saintly endeavors are circulating through the
court. It’s being said that you follow in my wake, trying to right what I have
wronged; that I am the demon lord and you are an angel of God.”

Gabrielle dismissed his accusations with a negligent wave of
her hand. “It is just talk, Reynald. There is too much of that at court.”

“Damnation, woman!” he thundered, taking another step toward
her. “It is more than that. It demeans me!”

Considering he was nearly toe to toe with her, Gabrielle was
amazed that she found the courage to reply, “You do that all by yourself,
Reynald. You need no help from me.”

She turned to walk away from him, and he grabbed her, whirling
her back to him. “You are coming home to Kerak with me, woman!” he snarled
furiously, his fingers biting painfully into her soft flesh. “Get dressed and
pack your belongings. We will leave within the hour.”

Panic slammed through Gabrielle’s entire body. She had not
expected this. Behind the thick walls of Kerak, she would lose all freedom, all
sense of worth, and all dignity. At best, she would become what she had been
for seven long hellish years; a battered, sexually abused slave to her
husband’s volatile moods. More likely, he would soon arrange for her death,
making it look like an accident. Memories of her mother’s accidental death
chilled her to the bone.

Determined to resist that fate at all costs, she mustered all
of her courage. “I will not return to Kerak with you, Reynald!”

His face reddened with rising fury. “You will do as I order!”
he thundered, grasping her by both arms and giving her a fierce shake that
rattled her teeth. “I own you. You are my property. You are chattel. I can even
sell you if I choose. And you will address me as lord and curb your insolent
tongue!”

Gabrielle met his fierce-eyed glare defiantly. “I will not go
to Kerak, my
lord
!”

“By God, you will!” Raising his large hand, he slapped her
hard across the cheek.

She reeled under the fierceness of the blow. Years of
experience had conditioned her to duck the instant he lifted his hand a second
time. She twisted vainly in an attempt to escape the next blow, but when it
didn’t come, she lifted her head and opened her eyes to see why.

Lucien de Aubric was standing between her her and Reynald, and
he had his hand clamped around her husband’s wrist. His big white clad body
acted as a shield, and she’d never been more glad to see him.

“By God, what is this?” Reynald bellowed. “You would dare come
between a husband and wife, Templar?”

Lucien stood his ground, his face and body taut with unleashed
fury. “I
am
standing between you and the lady, and will continue to do
so as long as she is endangered by you Reynald,” Lucien responded with a
menacing glare. “I will not let you harm her.”

“She is mine to do with as I please, de Aubric,” Reynald
snarled malevolently.

“I will not let you harm her, by God!”

Standing behind the Templar, Gabrielle felt real hope for the
first time in all the years she had been married to Reynald. While Brother
Giles had assisted her where he could, he had never stood toe-to-toe with
Reynald and refused him dominion over her. Her husband put fear in most men. He
was too powerful to thwart without harmful consequence.

But Lucien de Aubric was not afraid of Reynald de Châtillon.
Despite the fact that he looked as if he would love to smash Reynald’s face in,
he held his anger on a tightly controlled leash. His unyielding strength gave
Gabrielle courage and made her realize this Templar might be the best
protection she could get from her dangerous husband and morally deficient
father.

Relieved beyond measure, she stood behind the Templar and
looked over Brother Lucien’s broad shoulders at her husband.

Reynald sneered at her. “I
am
taking you home with me,
bitch! Do not think to hide behind this Templar. De Ridefort will never
tolerate his interference.”