answering. "Two years. My husband died fighting the Moors in Spain."
"I see. He was a hero then."
"Yes."
She preferred not to discuss it. She rarely thought of the man she'd called her lord and master. A kind man, the marriage had been arranged by their families, and they had been companionable enough. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Gaucelm that her husband had been fifteen years her senior, but then she held her words. It was none of his business.
Gaucelm let the matter drop and turned to business. "Perhaps after dinner, you will have your steward show me your records. I need to acquaint myself with the demesne."
She adopted a pleasant look. "Why make it difficult? As you say, if you are taking no reprisals, I see no reason not to show you the demesne myself." And keep him away from parts of it she didn't wish him to see.
His left arm rested on the table as the servants brought another course. She found it difficult to meet his gaze evenly, for her heart pounded skittishly and her skin felt clammy. Truly, his searching gaze was going to make dissembling the more difficult.
Gaucelm's other hand rested on the carved arm of his chair near her. She saw him grip the arm as if restraining some emotion
within himself, and her awareness of his power increased. For a moment she wished fervently for a conqueror more like her late husband, a man of ordinary looks, genial and conservative, if lacking in fiery spirit. Gaucelm was a hardened warrior who was also sensual, but a man who brooked no argument. Something about him overwhelmed her. She grasped her wine goblet and took a sip to steady herself.
Looking straight ahead, she said, "My steward Julian will show you what records and household accounts you wish to see. I am at your service whenever you would like to see the lands and meet your tenants."
"Very good."
Then taking a breath, she remembered her plans to distract him and turned a pleasant expression upon him. "I do have one question, my lord."
"And what is that?"
"In times that were more gay, our evenings were spent in song. Many notable troubadours visited this court. Now they are away. But if it would please you, my messengers could let it be known that you would find it interesting if the troubadours and their jongleurs again visited this court and performed and composed as in days before the war."
He narrowed his eyes slightly as he searched her face, suspicious of her offer. There had to be a reason she was so anxious to entertain him.
"Diversions for my men are always welcome," he said. "I would learn of these troubadours."
"I am glad," she said. "I think you will find it pleasing. We will do our best to acquaint you with our ways."
He smiled and took a piece of fruit.
"Tell me, where the troubadours gather, I have heard it called a court of love. Is that not so?"
She gave him a sly smile. "That is so. There are many rules a courtier must follow if he is to be accepted in a court of love."
Gaucelm lifted a dark brow, curious about the southern passions he'd heard sung of in flowery phrases.
"I have heard that these poets who are famed for their verses are also fighting knights. How can a man trained to arms and combat also know music and verse?"
"That is not difficult for a people steeped in Latin literature. And some of the love themes have perhaps come back to our shores from the eastern lands."
"Hmmm. Then I suggest you assemble your court, madam, as long as they know into whose demesne they are being invited. And they must come accompanied only by musicians. A half-dozen troubadours at most. They may keep their arms if they give their word not to draw them. They will be given safe escort here."
"Of course."
Assembling so many knight poets in one place might offer them a chance to retake the castle, but Gaucelm was not foolish enough for that. No, her entertainment would work in other ways.
They finished the cheese course and washed it down with wine. Then Gaucelm rose and held his
"I see. He was a hero then."
"Yes."
She preferred not to discuss it. She rarely thought of the man she'd called her lord and master. A kind man, the marriage had been arranged by their families, and they had been companionable enough. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Gaucelm that her husband had been fifteen years her senior, but then she held her words. It was none of his business.
Gaucelm let the matter drop and turned to business. "Perhaps after dinner, you will have your steward show me your records. I need to acquaint myself with the demesne."
She adopted a pleasant look. "Why make it difficult? As you say, if you are taking no reprisals, I see no reason not to show you the demesne myself." And keep him away from parts of it she didn't wish him to see.
His left arm rested on the table as the servants brought another course. She found it difficult to meet his gaze evenly, for her heart pounded skittishly and her skin felt clammy. Truly, his searching gaze was going to make dissembling the more difficult.
Gaucelm's other hand rested on the carved arm of his chair near her. She saw him grip the arm as if restraining some emotion
within himself, and her awareness of his power increased. For a moment she wished fervently for a conqueror more like her late husband, a man of ordinary looks, genial and conservative, if lacking in fiery spirit. Gaucelm was a hardened warrior who was also sensual, but a man who brooked no argument. Something about him overwhelmed her. She grasped her wine goblet and took a sip to steady herself.
Looking straight ahead, she said, "My steward Julian will show you what records and household accounts you wish to see. I am at your service whenever you would like to see the lands and meet your tenants."
"Very good."
Then taking a breath, she remembered her plans to distract him and turned a pleasant expression upon him. "I do have one question, my lord."
"And what is that?"
"In times that were more gay, our evenings were spent in song. Many notable troubadours visited this court. Now they are away. But if it would please you, my messengers could let it be known that you would find it interesting if the troubadours and their jongleurs again visited this court and performed and composed as in days before the war."
He narrowed his eyes slightly as he searched her face, suspicious of her offer. There had to be a reason she was so anxious to entertain him.
"Diversions for my men are always welcome," he said. "I would learn of these troubadours."
"I am glad," she said. "I think you will find it pleasing. We will do our best to acquaint you with our ways."
He smiled and took a piece of fruit.
"Tell me, where the troubadours gather, I have heard it called a court of love. Is that not so?"
She gave him a sly smile. "That is so. There are many rules a courtier must follow if he is to be accepted in a court of love."
Gaucelm lifted a dark brow, curious about the southern passions he'd heard sung of in flowery phrases.
"I have heard that these poets who are famed for their verses are also fighting knights. How can a man trained to arms and combat also know music and verse?"
"That is not difficult for a people steeped in Latin literature. And some of the love themes have perhaps come back to our shores from the eastern lands."
"Hmmm. Then I suggest you assemble your court, madam, as long as they know into whose demesne they are being invited. And they must come accompanied only by musicians. A half-dozen troubadours at most. They may keep their arms if they give their word not to draw them. They will be given safe escort here."
"Of course."
Assembling so many knight poets in one place might offer them a chance to retake the castle, but Gaucelm was not foolish enough for that. No, her entertainment would work in other ways.
They finished the cheese course and washed it down with wine. Then Gaucelm rose and held his
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