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
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
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