Barbara stood stock still, clearly remembering—and she could remember everything about each woman Alphonse had been rumored to love while she was at the French court with him. Then she set the tray outside the door and came back. She named the women, and over two of the seven he shook his head, saying he had never had any relationship with those. Of the others, he had had one mistress for two years, another for more than a year, and the three great beauties for a month or two each.
“I parted from Melisande, who, if you remember, was ten years older than I, because what had started as a game to both of us was becoming serious to her—and my heart was already full of a girl with the mane of a horse.”
He reached out and tangled his hand into the thick curling mass. Barbara guessed he was about to pull her into an embrace, as much to divert her as to display his affection. She had no desire to loosen his grip, but had no intention of permitting him to abort the conversation without satisfying her curiosity.
“You cannot tell me you left Madame Janine for fear of injuring her heart. She had none.”
Alphonse’s expressive brows rose. “True enough. Janine broke off our affair, not I. She did not tell me why.” He smiled and his black eyes glittered with amusement as he continued blandly, “And the others—may God bless and keep them all, the silly hens—were so taken up with their own beauty and thus so boring that I could hardly keep awake in their company long enough to futter them.”
Barbara burst out laughing. He had courted each so briefly that what he said must be true.
He looked at her with eyes made round like those of one afflicted with eternal innocence and added, “A man can close his eyes and imagine any body he likes,” the eyes narrowed into laughing slits, “but one cannot enjoy that body if he has been bored asleep. I have no trouble keeping awake in your company,” his voice took on a plaintive note, “even after a hard battle and a long ride when no entertainment is offered.”
Laughter sputtered out of Barbara again, but what he said that time was true too. A man could close his eyes and see any body he desired, but it was impossible to hold a truly interesting conversation with oneself. She felt warm and more content than ever before—not that she really believed the green-eyed devil was dead, but for now he had been defeated.
Still laughing, she pulled off her bedrobe. “I think you are quite mad, all bruised and battered as you are, but if it is entertainment you want, I will provide it in full measure so that you need seek no other body.”
He caught her and held her away, and now, as only a few times before, she saw his naked soul—hopeful and vulnerable. “Barbe,” he said softly, “I love you. Do not use coupling to hide your heart from me.”
She bent and kissed him. “My love, my love, I cannot help being a jealous woman. It is my nature. But I will try not to plague you.”
He laughed suddenly. “Plague me! Do!” he exclaimed. “I am getting older. I have fewer offers already. Can you not understand how flattered I will be when I am fat and toothless and you still believe me too desirable?” Then the laughter was gone as suddenly as it had come and the bare soul looked out of his eyes again. He drew her against him and murmured, “Do anything but withdraw from me. I cannot bear that there be anything between us.”
“I have no more secrets in my heart,” Barbara whispered. “I love you too. I have always loved you.” He sighed with content, believing her at last, and she touched his face tenderly, then firmed her grip so he could not jerk away and nipped his chin. “And since you and I are both as naked as fish, if you will only let me into the bed, I can get warm and there will be nothing between us but love.”
About the Author
Roberta Gellis was driven to start writing her own books some forty years ago by the infuriating inaccuracies of the historical fiction she read. Since then she has worked in varied genres—romance, mystery and fantasy—but always, even in the fantasies, keeping the historical events as near to what actually happened as possible. The dedication to historical time settings is not only a matter of intellectual interest, it is also because she is so out-of-date herself that accuracy in a contemporary novel would be impossible.
In the forty-some years she has been writing, Gellis has produced more than twenty-five straight historical romances. These have been the recipients of many awards, including the Silver and Gold Medal Porgy for historical novels from the West Coast Review of Books, the Golden Certificate from Affaire de Coeur, the Romantic Times Award for Best Novel in the Medieval Period (several times) and a Lifetime Achievement Award for Historical Fantasy. Last but not least, Gellis was honored with the Romance Writers of America’s Lifetime Achievement Award.
The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and e-mail address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Roberta Gellis
A Woman’s Estate
Fire Song
Fortune’s Bride
Siren Song
The Cornish Heiress
The English Heiress
The Kent Heiress
Winter Song
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer ebooks or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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