Templar Knight, Forbidden Bride. Lynna Banning

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СКАЧАТЬ mass. Still holding his gaze, she slowly drew aside her face veil.

      Full, soft-looking lips curved slightly downwards at the corners. Her teeth shone white as pearls against her sun-bronzed skin. An iron crossbolt slammed into his heart. He could not draw breath.

      He clenched his jaw. ‘Get you gone.’

      She raised her chin. ‘No man orders me thus. Not even a Templar knight.’

      She was small and delicate and her eyes were beautiful. He felt the gnawing of his body’s hunger in every muscle and sinew.

      As a Christian knight, pledged to celibacy, he avoided women. But as a man…God help him, as a man he looked upon her with desire licking at his body.

      ‘Go,’ he ordered.

      She shot him a long venomous look, whirled and melted into the dark.

      Gritting his teeth, Reynaud turned his mount towards the heart of the Moorish sector and the familiar house overlooking the city where he had grown up.

      In the rambling palace Reynaud paused behind the latticed entrance to his foster uncle’s quarters and tried to steady his heartbeat. Before he could speak, Hassam strode forwards, extending both his hands, and Reynaud was pulled into the older man’s embrace.

      ‘Welcome, Nephew! I feared never to see you again.’ The older man released him and stepped back. ‘You have changed much.’

      Reynaud grasped the vizier’s arm and held it tight. For a moment he could not speak. ‘Uncle,’ he managed. ‘I have seen much that would age a man.’

      Hassam smiled. ‘Of that I have no doubt. A man is always anxious to leave his youth behind. Then, when he has outgrown his milk teeth and been blooded in battle, he longs for a return to innocence.’ He smiled again, his teeth a flash of white in the lean, sharp-boned face. ‘It is the same with all men.’

      Reynaud studied his uncle. The spare frame outlined under the emerald silk tunic was still erect and proud, the movements agile, even graceful. Only the touch of silver in the dark hair betrayed Hassam’s age. He must be nearly sixty winters. And even though it had been Hassam’s preoccupied younger brother who had raised Reynaud as his foster son, Reynaud loved his uncle more than any man he had ever known.

      ‘Come.’ Hassam gestured to a low sofa covered with embroidered cushions. ‘Sit with me. We have heard nothing of you for these twenty years. And besides,’ he confided, ‘I have my own reasons for speaking with you alone.’

      Reynaud unbuckled his belt and carefully laid the sheathed sword on a carved wooden chest, then settled himself on the couch beside his uncle and waited while he signalled a young slave to bring coffee. ‘What reasons?’

      Hassam chuckled. ‘You were ever direct, Nephew.’

      ‘Your pardon, Uncle. I have not the time to be otherwise.’

      ‘Nor have I.’

      Reynaud accepted the tiny cup of fragrant dark liquid the servant proffered and waited until Hassam spoke quietly to the boy and gestured him away.

      ‘I carry a message for Emir Yusef,’ he said quietly.

      The vizier nodded, cradling his coffee between thumb and forefinger, but he said nothing.

      ‘For your ears only. As a Christian knight, I cannot deliver it in person.’

      ‘Of course.’

      Reynaud hesitated a split second. ‘From the Templar master, Bertrand de Blanquefort, in Acre.’

      Hassam’s black eyebrows went up, but his face remained expressionless. The dark eyes that met Reynaud’s were calculating.

      ‘It is thought, Uncle, that you have Emir Yusef’s ear. That you could deliver this message to him.’

      ‘Perhaps. What would such a message concern? I would not play the traitor to Yusef.’

      Reynaud held his uncle’s gaze. ‘The Templars wish peace between Arab and Christian forces, Uncle. De Blanquefort would join forces with Granada to maintain a balance of power, and to establish a Templar presence in Spain.’

      His uncle swallowed the last of his coffee and positioned the cup on the polished brass tray. ‘Yes, I could convey your Grand Master’s message to Emir Yusef.’ He cast a speculative look at Reynaud and a broad smile lit his face.

      ‘For a price.’

      Reynaud ground his teeth. ‘What price?’

      Hassam cleared his throat. ‘My daughter, Leonor, travels to Navarre to visit her great-aunt Alais of Moyanne. I will send an armed escort with her, but when she reaches the town, I fear for her. She will need protection.’

      ‘Why?’ Reynaud asked, his tone sharp.

      ‘Think, man. She is an heiress, with lands in both Aragon and Navarre. She could be kidnapped. Forced to marry.’

      Reynaud nodded. ‘Raped, you mean. And married after. It is a common enough means for a landless knight to gain riches.’

      ‘She is my only daughter,’ Hassam said simply. ‘I do not wish that for her.’

      Again Reynaud nodded. ‘You want me to protect her.’

      ‘Aye.’ Hassam grinned. ‘That is the price.’

      Reynaud groaned under his breath. The last thing he wanted was to be saddled with Hassam’s daughter. He had not laid eyes on her for a score of years, but even as a child she had been a handful for her nursemaids and tutors, even for her father. She was irrepressible. And more clever than any young girl should be.

      Besides, he had other, more important business in Moyanne. Business that would be hampered by keeping an eye on Hassam’s daughter. He opened his mouth to protest, but his uncle suddenly rose.

      ‘Ah, she is here. Leonor, we have a visitor.’

      A slim young woman in an ankle-length scarlet tunic glided through the latticed entry, and Reynaud’s heart stopped. Dumbstruck, he gazed at her as if in a dream.

      It was the street woman!

       Chapter Two

       Reynaud rose from the sofa as courtesy demanded, his body on fire. They had met not an hour before, on the dark streets of Granada. Why could he not draw breath?

      Did his uncle know that Leonor…?

      No, it was not possible. Hassam would not allow it.

      His uncle cleared his throat politely. ‘Daughter, do you not remember your cousin Reynaud?’

      As her father’s words registered, her face changed. The feathery black lashes brushed her cheek, then lifted, and beneath the dark, arched brows her grey eyes widened. She stared at him, her mouth opening to speak, her lips trembling.

      ‘Reynaud?’ СКАЧАТЬ