Page 108 of Captive Rose

"No," Guy replied firmly. "It is nodream."

"But I cannot believe you came after me!" sheblurted, staring into his eyes. Then her voice fell to a broken whisper. "Ithought . . . you would hate me for leaving you."

"Never," he said fervently. "I love you,Leila. You are everything to me. How could I ever hate you? You are my belovedwife. You carry our child—"

"How did you know . . . ?" she asked, amazed.

"It doesn't matter. Just know that I am pleasedbeyond measure about the babe." As he ran one finger lightly down hercheek and across her lips, his expression grew serious. "In truth, Leila,when I discovered you had fled, I almost believed that you hated me—"

"Never." Leila felt him tense beside her, hisgaze so full of hope and longing that it took her breath away. If there wasever a moment to share with him exactly how she felt, it was now. "I loveyou, Guy deWarenne. You have forever won my heart. Iwill never, never leave you."

His hoarse cry was exultant and she welcomed his impassionedkiss with open arms. The warmth of his lips was the sweetest affirmation thatthis incredible moment was real. The fierce desire flaring within her was justas real, and she yearned to share it with him. To give herself freely andfully, as she had just given her undying love.

"My lord, how shall we fill these long hours as weboth convalesce?" she teased softly, delighting in his roguish smile whenhe drew away to gaze into her face. She shivered deliciously. It seemed theirthoughts were one and the same.

"I can think of countless ways, my love."

Epilogue

Damascus, Syria

Spring, 1274

EveGervaissat alone in herfragrant courtyard, staring at the water-stained, travel-worn packet she heldin her trembling hands.

She was told it had passed through many other hands toreach her: messengers, pilgrims, a native Christian who had journeyed all theway from Acre to deliver it to Friar Thomas, and finallyMajida.Her faithful odalisque had just returned from the church in the Christianquarter with the precious missive,thenshe hadretired to leave Eve in solitude.

Now it was all Eve could do to tear open the stiffouter parchment. As she did so, she could not help but wonder if the letterinside bore good news or bad. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she pulled itout and began to read by the soft golden light of a lantern.

It was from Leila, written almost eight months ago, andto her astonishment, the beautifully flowing script was in English.

Eve's eyes quickly filled with tears, and she sighed brokenly,reading about Roger's cruel treachery and his death. Yet her sadness was faroutweighed by quiet joy. The rest of the letter expressed Leila's radianthappiness.

Leila had married a man of good and brave heart. LordGuy deWarennehad promised Eve that Leila would cometo no harm, and he had kept his word. She could not have hoped or prayed for amore worthy husband for her beloved daughter. He had even given Leila ahospital so that she might fulfill her fondest dream.

Eve traced her finger over the last few lines, as if bytouching the ink she could somehow come closer to the delicate hand that hadwritten them.

Leila was the mother of healthy twins, Eve and William,born last summer. She also had an adopted son, Nicholas, whom she dearly loved.Her life was rich and full. She and Guy were happy together . . . so very, veryhappy.

"So God has willed," Eve said softly toherself, reading the letter one more time before tearing it and the parchmentpacket into small pieces. Then she rose from the marble couch and cast thefragments into the stream which tumbled through her courtyard and emptied intotheBaradaRiver flowing just beyond the high,vine-covered wall.

Plucking a pink damask rose, Eve inhaled its lush scentas she stood beside the stream. She was so lost in her joyous thoughts she didnot hear footsteps behind her. She realized she was no longer alone whensomeone gently touched her shoulder.

"What has captured your mind so, Eve? Did you nothear me call your name?"

She turned and smiled intoSinjar'sdark eyes. "I was only thinking how happy I am, my husband," sheanswered truthfully. Even now, after reading the letter, she felt no guilt thatshe harbored one secret from the man she loved so completely.

It wasSinjar'sbelief thatLeila had taken pity upon Guy deWarenneand somehowaided him in his escape from Damascus. At least that was what he had alwaysmaintained. If he had any idea that Eve had had something to do with theescape, he had kept it to himself. He had never asked her about that night, andshe didn't think he ever would. His silent protection only endeared him morefiercely to her heart.

"You are my happiness, my beloved Eve. Come. Thenight is falling."

As she took his hand, thrilling to the warmth of histouch and the desire smoldering in his eyes, the rose slipped from her fingersand fell into the stream. It spun and bobbed in the current, then drifted away. . .