by Jo Beverley
"You think I'm practical?"
His eyes crinkled. "Yes. Don't you?"
"Not at the moment," she blurted out, and felt another layer of heat rise in her cheeks. Oh, why had she said anything so stupid?
He leaned back and smiled at her. "But it's very practical at your age to be interested in a man."
At this direct attack, Aline stiffened her spine and glared at him. "I have no such interest!"
"Then you are notably different from the rest of the human race, Lady Aline. Young women are interested in young men, and young men in young women."
"What about old men?" she asked tartly. "Such as yourself."
Something flashed in his eyes, and then he laughed. "We are interested in women of many ages. But we ancient specimens have a great deal to recommend us, you know. We are patient, and we have more self-control than striplings."
"Really?" she queried, letting her gaze move pointedly to buxom Ella.
He blushed! She'd swear he blushed. It was as sweet as victory in battle.
"When we have need to be, Lady Aline."
"Ah." With great care she chose a gooseberry tart. "You mean you are patient about seduction, sir, but impatient when the game is won."
"Never." He smiled at her, lazy-eyed. "I promise you, Lady Aline, I am never impatient with a woman."
Pest! There went her color again, flying in her cheeks like a banner. "Some women will not be seduced, Sir Raoul, no matter how patient the hunter."
"So a good hunter learns to choose his quarry with care. More wine, my lady?"
She watched him pour wine from an earthen jug into her silver goblet, a thrill going through her at his words. Was it a thrill of terror or excitement? "You think I could be seduced?"
"Do you think you couldn't?" He poured wine into his own goblet, not looking at her at all.
"Yes!"
"Perhaps you are right." Then he looked at her, and something in his hazel eyes was like the trumpets of battle. "Do you wish to find out?"
"No!"
Calmly, he turned to the plate of gooseberry tarts and chose another to offer her. "Then we will not play the game."
She took the tart, studying him. "What game?"
"Seduction." Before she could protest, he added, "Of course, we couldn't actually take it to its conclusion, fair lady, for that would ruin your chance of becoming a bride of Christ. And it would quite likely land me in more trouble than I want."
And that was true. Her father and brothers would chop him into tiny pieces if he dishonored her. And by that time he would be glad to die.
Aline studied him as she nibbled on the tart, her heart beating fast. She was well aware that Raoul was acting like a hunter and setting lures and traps. But it was such exciting sport and ultimately completely safe.
"So it would be just a game..."
"Exactly. Like the mock battles men fight when training for war. In fact, like those battles, it could be useful practice for you. I suspect you need training in defense."
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you not like assisting men at their bath, Aline?"
It was the first time he'd used her name without "Lady" in front of it and she knew the game had started. "I am modest."
"The sight of a man's body cannot be a shock to you."
"No..."
"Well, then?"
She couldn't manage the tart, so put it down. "I rarely need to perform that duty, so it flusters me."
"I don't think it's the duty that flusters you, Aline."
She glared at him. "Very well. I find men arousing—young, healthy men. I have tried to fight it, but I never seem able to, so I prefer to avoid the occasion of sin."
His smile said he had won in some way. "It is not always wise to avoid our occasions of weakness. As you discovered this morning, it can leave us vulnerable. It's like a man-at-arms who avoids climbing walls because he fears heights. One day he will need to climb a wall in battle, and doubtless die for his folly. Fighting men need to be strong in all ways. They need to train away every weakness, to have their skills constantly well honed."
"I'm sure you are very strong, and your skills well honed."
"Oh, yes. See." Without warning, he took her hand and placed it on his bare forearm, pressing her fingers against iron-hard muscles.
She snatched her hand back. "So,"—she wished her voice were not so breathy—"let me understand you. You are offering to train me in the skills I will need to avoid carnal temptation?"
Carnal temptation. She wanted, quite desperately, to feel his arm beneath her hand again.
"Not precisely." He adjusted the heavy gold bracelet he wore on his wrist. She was sure it was solely to draw her attention back to his muscles. "I suspect you need a lady to teach you those skills. I am offering to stage some mock assaults to test your defenses so you will know which skills you need to improve."
Mock assaults like that bracelet, that arm...
"In fact, Lady Aline, I am beyond offering and am now promising. You had better start reinforcing your walls and stocking up on arrows."
She forced her eyes back up to his teasing face. "Whether I agree or not?"
"Whether you agree or not."
She focused her most severe frown on the wretch. "I should complain to Galeran of your behavior."
"That would put him in a very awkward position, and it's not necessary. Remember, Aline, you have my word that I will not invade your citadel, even if it lies wide open to me."
Aline gaped at that blatant image, but then snapped, "Very well. But I warn you, sir, my defenses are very strong indeed. And sometimes assailants suffer more than the citadel they attack."
She then turned to watch four of Jehanne's ladies perform a dance, an intricate weaving dance whose sole purpose was to show off their grace and charm to the watching men. Why couldn't Raoul play his games with one of them?
She'd be after them with a knife if he did.
Oh, dear. Her defenses were straw and sticks and she feared he knew it.
As a beleaguered citadel, her first line of defense should be to call upon her liege lord to handle this unruly assailant. But Raoul was correct. That would put Galeran in a difficult position.
One of the ladies smiled at Raoul, and he winked back at her. Aline didn't know which of the two she most wanted to throw a pitcher of icy water over.
She also had to accept that having Galeran control Raoul wouldn't be much fun.
Suddenly, she wanted some fun.
Soon, probably before Christmas, she would return to St. Radegund's. Since she'd turned eighteen, she would be expected to take her novice's vows. This could be her last opportunity to explore the strange, frightening world of men and women. As virtually a promised bride of Christ, she shouldn't want to explore the strange, frightening world of men and women....
But, on the other hand, the temptations of the flesh would never go away. He was right. She should build her defenses.
The ladies sat down and Galeran's knights started to dance, as unashamedly performing for the women as the women had danced for the men. This was a fiercer dance, allowing them to show off their nimbleness and strength as they acted out a very explicit hunt.
One of the younger knights—dark-haired and with a wicked eye—smiled straight at Aline and did a fancy sequence of steps. Normally she would have ignored it, but this time she smiled back.
A hand gripped hers beneath the table. "Aline," said Raoul. "You are not yet ready to take on one like that."
"Am I not?" She slid a look at her partner. "But I am able to handle you, you think?"
"Not in this millennium, my sweet. It is just that I shall be using blunted weapons, and that bold adventurer is whetting a fine edge to his sword."
* * *
Galeran nudged Jehanne. "I fear Raoul is flirting with Aline."
Jehanne slid a look sideways. "A somewhat pointless exercise."
"Perhaps it is just that—exercise. You think she's invulnerable
, then?"
"Aline has always been wary about men."
"Aline was fourteen when she decided to become a nun. She spent only a year in the convent before coming here to be with you. Perhaps she has just been slow to develop an interest."
Jehanne glanced sideways again and her lips twitched. "If her interests lie that way, surely it is as well that she find that out now."
"She is not pledged to the Church?"
"No. It was completely her own idea. Uncle Hubert is pleased, of course. Being devout, he likes the idea of having a daughter to pray for his soul. But if she changes her mind, no one will force her to it."
"I fear Raoul is just amusing himself, though. I can put a stop to it if you wish."
Jehanne thought about it. "No. As I said, it will be as well for Aline to discover her true nature. She may still choose to take vows, but at least she will do so knowing her weaknesses. I assume we can trust your friend not to ruin her."
"I believe so. But I'll make sure of it. He might hurt her feelings, however."
"Break her heart? That is excellent training for life."
Galeran concentrated on draining his wine. What did that mean? Though he stamped on its every appearance, deep inside he still wondered whether Jehanne loved Lowick and would rather her husband were dead.
Chapter 11
As the trestles were broken down, the household relaxed, chatting and flirting. Jehanne watched Galeran strolling among his people, taking time to talk to each and catch up with their news. She had missed Galeran during his absence. Selfishly, she had not thought of how much he must have missed Heywood or of the many events that had taken place while he was gone.
She'd been sorry he'd missed Gallot's birth and brief life, but she knew he would also have wanted to be here for the hilarious courtship of Hugh and Margaret. He was laughing now as he was told the tale, but he'd have laughed more if he'd lived through those weeks.
And he'd want to hear the story of how Sven lost his hand, and how Ann rescued a child from the river....
With an ache in her throat she turned, and saw the way Aline's eyes kept flickering to Raoul. Oh, dear. She strolled over to her cousin. "Raoul de Jouray is certainly a handsome man," she said casually. "Unfortunately, he knows it."
"It would be hard not to. Just as you know you are beautiful."
"Since you are very like me in looks, you must know your own charms too."
"But no one will ever describe me as slender as a willow wand." For the first time, Aline sounded rather glum about it.
"Poetic nonsense. Would any sensible man want his lady to behave like one of those sweet, gentle willow maidens?"
"Probably," said Aline with a grin. "She'd be less trouble. She'd wait patiently at home while her man went adventuring. Or she'd obligingly put herself into danger so her hero could show his prowess. And when her swain declared that he was unworthy of her, she'd not tell him how true it was." She sighed. "Being the only girl in a household of men warps a woman, I fear."
Jehanne laughed with relief and hugged her cousin. "I suppose you could do worse than to test your vocation against Raoul de Jouray, for he's tempting as the apple in Paradise. Just take care not to go too far. And never think he'll marry you. Landless men like that cannot marry."
"He'd make a sorry husband, anyway, with his roving eye." And Aline glared at the handsome wretch who was teasing a giggling lady.
It seemed Aline still had her sensible head set right on her shoulders. All the same, when Jehanne declared the midday rest over and sent everyone about their work, she went out of her way to catch Raoul before he left the hall. "If you hurt my cousin, sirrah, I'll gut you."
He looked down at her with a raised brow. "Galeran has already given me that message, my lady, though rather more doucely."
Jehanne felt color rise in her cheeks. "I can be sharp-tongued."
"Lady Jehanne, virtue comes not from confessing our faults but from trying to correct them." He walked away, leaving her gaping.
Galeran came to her side. "Did Raoul say something to offend you?"
"No." She looked at him. "How can you love me? I'm not lovable."
His hand went to the knife at his belt. "What did he say?"
"Nothing to offend, but..."
"But?"
"But I do take pride in my vices. I don't try to change them. I like to speak my mind. I'm afraid to be weak, afraid to depend on you...."
"Why should you want to be weak? And I could die tomorrow."
"I've already proved unable to handle that event well."
He sighed. "Jehanne. We have to stop picking at all this like the scab on a healing wound."
"When it heals, there will be no scab. If it heals." She studied him, trying to see beneath the calm exterior. "Everyone is still waiting for you to do something."
"Perhaps one day they will stop. The well needs dredging, I'm told. I'd better set some men to it."
Jehanne sighed and went off to supervise the scouring of the corn bins. She sympathized with Galeran's desire to let time heal, but she doubted that time alone would wipe her sin away.
* * *
The days were still long, so the evening meal came late, but not so late that people were too tired for entertainment. When the trestles had been broken down, music began, and then stories were told in the russet light of the setting sun.
Because Galeran and Raoul had been to mystic lands, their stories were much in demand. In addition to tales of the Holy Land, Raoul could also tell of Spain, both the Christian north and the Moorish south. He told of a meeting with the famous Cid Compeador, Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, mightiest warrior of Spain, who had spent his last years opposing the Moors in his own crusade.
"Perhaps I could sing you a song of Spain," Raoul said at last, looking around at his rapt audience.
A great shout answered him. He called for a gittern and plucked a tune from the strings, a delicate, floating melody.
"Some say this is the song El Cid sang to the Lady Jimena when he wooed her. In it, he tells her she is as beautiful as the almond blossom, as pure as water from the snows of the sierra, and as sweet to the lips as a plump, juicy grape.
He began to sing in a rich, expressive voice, and though he did not look at Aline, and she understood none of the Spanish words, she felt as if he sang to her alone. As if she were as beautiful as the almond blossom, as sweet as a juicy grape, and as pure as the water from the snows of a sierra.
When he finished and refused to entertain further, he came to sit on the floor by her knee. Why that should seem so much more intimate than him sitting by her side, she did not know.
"Did you really sing the words you said?" she asked.
He glanced up at her. "Of course, though that is just the refrain. In the verses the warrior relates his pursuit of his beautiful lady. How he adored her from afar. How he undertook dangerous exploits in order to be worthy of her. How he slew any who endangered her. And all because she was as beautiful as a blossom, as pure as mountain water, and as sweet to the lips as a plump, juicy grape."
"Why do I suspect that grapes are actually sour as unripe gooseberries?"
He twisted to look at her fully, resting his arm across her thighs. "Are you so suspicious? The grapes in Guyenne are sweet as honey. Perhaps grapes can be found in London and other southern ports. One day, I promise, I will feed you a plump, juicy grape."
Dry-mouthed, Aline turned her attention back to the center of the hall, where a knight was telling a tale of monsters and magic. Raoul's arm stayed where it was, invasive, powerful, but strangely comforting.
She even found herself wanting to put her hand on his broad shoulder. She could imagine how hard it would feel beneath the cloth. How reassuring...
She was quite relieved to be able to retreat to the lady's chamber, where she slept safely guarded by Jehanne's five ladies.
* * *
After spending an appropriate length of time with their household, Galeran led Jehanne to their chamb
er. It was like so many other evenings, and yet unlike. Too many problems sat between them for ease. The nurse immediately brought Donata, and Jehanne sat to feed her. As soon as the babe had finished her meal, however, she called for the woman to take her away again.
Galeran decided not to comment. He removed his belt and robe, so he was only in braies and shirt. "Would you like to play chess?"
She looked directly at him. "I would like to make love."
Heat swept through him. "So would I." He held out his hand and she rose to place hers in it. He pulled her into his arms for a kiss, tasting her—he realized—for the first time in so long.
After, holding her tight in his arms, he said, "Sweet Savior, we didn't kiss. Last time, we didn't kiss!"
She clung as tight to him as he to her. "I know. I noticed. Why is kissing both the first and the last thing?"
He raised her face and rubbed his thumb over the fading bruise there. "Perhaps the kiss is universal. Even those pledged to chastity kiss, if only in peace."
But now, like a fever, he needed more than kisses. He undid her girdle and tossed it aside. Then he slid his hands beneath her tunic to find the openings provided for the babe to feed.
She gasped, relaxing back against his arm as he pleasured her breasts, first with hand, then with mouth, until she was clutching at him. Then he toppled them onto their new bed.
Loosening his braies, he pulled up her skirts and thrust into her moist heat, unable this time to hold back, or be gentle, or thoughtful. This time he could only let the wild flames consume them both, and revel in every scorching moment.
When his strength returned, he drew the curtains around the bed, enclosing them in a private world where evil could never intrude. In that darkness he stripped the clothes from her limp, sweaty body, moving her limbs as if she were a child, kissing and nipping at each bit of skin exposed.
By the time she was naked her energy had returned and she stripped him in the same way, teasing every part of him until he was ready again. Before she could mount him, however, he tried one of the eastern tricks, and pulled her to kneel over his mouth so he could torment her with his tongue.
"Galeran!" she gasped at the first touch, and then braced her hands against the head of the bed and went silent as the tension gathered in her body. He would not let her be silent, though, and held her prisoner until she cried out.