No Price Too High by Jo Ann Ferguson Read Free Book Online Page A

shoulder at the sound of hoofbeats. Her hand went to the sword at her waist. She had not been sure Gabriel would return it to her, but he had.
    Seeing horses being brought to the men, she asked, “Gabriel, are we attacking on horseback?” She swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat. The ambush by the cliffs had proven to her that she had much to learn about battle tactics if she wanted to survive.
    Putting the tube under his loose robes, Gabriel smiled. “My men understand their orders.” He took the reins of two horses from the short man. “Shakir here will see they obey them while we concentrate on what we shall do.”
    â€œAnd what is that?”
    He closed the distance between them with a single step. When she backed away, his smile broadened. He liked that she was frightened of him. What kind of man was he that he cared so little about his ally? She shivered, not wanting to know the answer to that when they were about to confront their common enemy.
    â€œHow can I tell you my plans if you flee me?” he asked in a reasonable tone that added to her irritation. “I cannot shout because the desert winds carry words to every eager ear.”
    She almost believed him, then saw the glint in his eyes. He was her ally, but she would be a fool to trust him.
    He reached toward her. She held her breath in anticipation of his touch. When he picked up a corner of the black fabric over her, she released her breath as something that seemed oddly like disappointment pulsed within her.
    â€œYou should wear the tcharchaf covering your face.” He drew the material forward. “No one must see that you are not of the village.”
    The short man he had called Shakir began to speak, but Gabriel’s single word silenced him. With the tcharchaf drawn about her face, she caught only a hint of a smile from the short man before he turned away to speak with the other men. Their intense expressions told her that he was giving them orders.
    Again Gabriel did not interpret his words. He motioned for her to mount the horse being brought to her.
    Melisande settled herself in the saddle that, unlike an English saddle, did not have the strips of leather over waist-high boards in the front and behind her. This offered a freedom which would have been exhilarating if her heart had not pounded like the hoofs of a runaway steed. She was no warrior. She was a Hospitaller, here to tend the wounds of the Crusaders.
    Gabriel swung easily into the saddle. He raised his sword and snapped it down. Shakir copied the motion before the men sent their horses at a slow pace along the ridge.
    With a satisfied smile, Gabriel watched for what seemed an eternity to Melisande. Just as she could restrain her questions no longer, he pointed toward the plain.
    She gripped the reins as the gray horse edged down the hill with the same ease as when she had gone to find Geoffrey’s body. Maybe Gabriel would lend her this horse for her return to Tyre after Abd al Qadir’s defeat. It was more surefooted than the mount she had brought from Heathwyre.
    When they rode close to the shadows at the base of the hills, she shivered. Not only from the chill that clung to the darkness, but with apprehension. What did Gabriel have planned? He had told her too little, she now realized.
    He drew in his horse when they were even with the village. He dismounted and lashed the reins to a spire of rock. Taking her reins, he tied them to his horse’s before facing her with a grim smile. “We walk from here.”
    â€œThe others—”
    â€œHave their orders.” He grabbed her at the waist and swept her out of the saddle as if she weighed no more than the water bladder at his side. “Now you will listen to yours.”
    â€œYou give orders easily.”
    â€œYou have vowed to follow them.”
    She pulled the fabric away from her face so he could not miss her scowl. “You needn’t remind me of my pledge,