‘What is this urgent task you require of me?’

      ‘It’s a simple matter.’ Her fists balled inside her long sleeves. ‘Once it’s done, you may leave Fortemur a free man, well horsed and supplied with sword, lance, and shield from the castle armoury.’

      He did not leap at the offer. Jocelyn would not have trusted him if he had. This one, she’d sensed from the moment he’d stood tall and defiant on the auction block, would break before he’d bend.

      ‘What do you want of me?’

      Very well. He wished it without bard or barding. So be it.

      ‘I want you to lie with me.’

      He reared back. ‘What say you?’

      ‘I want you in my bed this night, and this night only. Then you will leave Fortemur with all I promised you.’

      Suspicion warred with incredulity in his face. ‘Why?’

      ‘The reason is not your concern,’ she said haughtily.

      He looked her up and down with an insolence that brought the blood rushing to her cheeks.

      About the Author

      As an Air Force officer, MERLINE LOVELACE served at bases all over the world, including tours in Taiwan, Vietnam, and at the Pentagon. When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she decided to combine her love of adventure with a flair for storytelling, basing many of her tales on her experiences in the service. Since then, she’s produced more than eighty action-packed novels, many of which have made USA TODAY and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. Over eleven million copies of her works are in print in 30 countries.

      When she’s not glued to her keyboard pounding out a new book, Merline and her husband Al pack their suitcases and take off for new, exotic locations—all of which eventually appear in a book. Check her website at www.merlinelovelace.com for travelogues, pictures, and information about forthcoming releases.

       Novels by the same author:

       Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Crusader Captive

      Merline Lovelace

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To my own sexy knight in shining armour.

      Thanks for all the fabulous adventures, my darling.

      Author Note

      Okay, I admit it. I’ve always been fascinated by tales of knights and ladies fair. So fascinated that I wrote several novels set during the reigns of Eleanor of Aquitaine and her son, Richard the Lionhearted.

      But none of the research I did into their times and the great Crusades that shaped their lives came anywhere close to the incredible experience of visiting the same places Eleanor and Richard had journeyed to. The moment I stepped off the tour bus and viewed Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, I was lost in the awe-inspiring history of the city. And when I walked up the ramparts of Saladin’s great citadel in Cairo, I knew I had to set another book during the era of the Crusades.

      So here it is, the tale of a knight pledged to the Templars and the lady who forces him to choose between duty and desire, with the fate of an entire kingdom hanging in the balance. I thoroughly enjoyed watching their story play out against such a rich historical tapestry. Hope you do, too!

       Chapter One

       The port city of El-Arish, on the much-disputed border between the Caliphate of Cairo and the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, Anno Domini 1152

      “That one.”

      Her entire face hidden behind a veil after the style of women of the East, Lady Jocelyn tipped a nod toward the wretch who’d been hauled from the slave pens. It took two burly guards armed with pikes to prod the man onto the auction block. Despite his shackles, he was of a size to be reckoned with.

      “My lady!”

      Her castellan’s protest was low and for her ears only. Sir Hugh had journeyed to Outremer years ago with Jocelyn’s grandfather. He was somewhat grizzled of late but had lost little of his strength and none of his ability to wield a sword. Like Jocelyn, he’d donned Eastern garb for this dangerous excursion across the ever-fluctuating border between the two kingdoms. His hooded robe shielded most of his face as he leaned closer to the lady he’d sworn to serve.

      “But look at the bruises on that one’s arms and face. They bespeak a stubborn, intractable nature. He’ll never bend to your will.”

      “He has no choice. Not if he wishes his freedom.”

      That was true enough. Ever since the Pope had declared a second Crusade seven years ago, thousands upon thousands of would-be warriors for Christ had swelled the ranks of pilgrims making the perilous journey to the Holy Land. Even Louis VII of France and his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, had answered the call. Although they’d returned to France after a somewhat less than successful campaign, their daring exploits—and scandalous affairs—had become the stuff of legend in Outremer.

      Unfortunately, the ranks of those who preyed on travelers making the hazardous trek had swelled as well. So many pilgrims and Crusaders had fallen victim to brigands and pirates that the slave markets from Cairo to Damascus were flooded with pale-skinned Franks. Even here, on the very border of the Latin kingdom that had been their destination when they had set out months or years ago, so many came on the auction block that prices had dropped like lead weights.

      Jocelyn wished fervently she could buy them all. She and her grandfather before her had sent agents to purchase many of these hapless captives until tensions escalated and the Fatamids of Egypt had closed their borders. It was a measure of her desperation that she’d made this risky foray to purchase a slave she could use to achieve her ends.

      If she could use him. Her castellan seemed most doubtful.

      “But look at him,” Sir Hugh urged. “For all his bruises, he is roped with muscle and sinew.”

      He was indeed! Through the slit in her veil, Jocelyn inspected the slave on the auction block. Beneath his matted hair and filthy beard no doubt crawling with lice, he displayed a body that told her this was no mere pilgrim. No lowly plowman or tradesman eager to win everlasting salvation by answering the Pope’s call. Such muscled shoulders, such a flat belly and taut, corded thighs bespoke years of hard training and rigorous discipline. He’d swung a sword, she guessed shrewdly, and swung it often.

      But it was his stance that intrigued her. Shoulders square, chin angled, he stood with his feet spread as far as his leg irons would allow and looked out on the noisy crowd with disdain in his astonishingly blue eyes. If she must use a slave to achieve her purposes, she decided, she would as lief not use a sniveling, cowardly one.

      Then his gaze caught hers, or seemed to. Scorn rippled across his face and curled his lip. Jocelyn bristled at the sneer even as she acknowledged the reason behind it. Veiled and robed in a voluminous cloak as she was, he took her for a woman of the East. Come, like the other females in the noisy crowd, to inspect and taunt the latest Frankish captives put on the block.

      Ever after Jocelyn