that direction?
Gaucelm got down to inspect the grapes. She followed him, her own eyes scanning the fields. But the villeins kept well away, finding work to do at the far end of the fields. By now all would know that they had a new overlord. And they would come to pay their respects when it was time. For now, Allesandra tried to discern who among them might see who she was with and pass the word along as warning.
"They say that wine has a memory," he said, dropping to one knee and letting the vine trail across his gloved hand. "That wines are deeply unsettled at the time of the harvest. Do you believe that?"
His look sent a searing sensation across her, and she looked away, her expression neutral.
"The natural world is in some way part of us," she answered. "If we abuse it, we cannot expect it to be so generous with us in return."
"An interesting belief," he said, dropping the vine and regaining his height, "if perhaps somewhat pagan."
She took his meaning and squared her shoulders. "If you are
suggesting it is a Cathar belief, I doubt it. You must understand all the influences that have played a part in our land, my lord. The Arabs have left their traces. The Genoese and Venetians have traded here. Languedoc is a mixed culture. You will find many ideas unfamiliar to you; not necessarily all of them are Cathar."
"Not necessarily."
He took a step toward her between the vines, and she resisted her impulse to move back. She must not let him think she feared him. At the same time, his nearness affected her, and she began to see that it was not the enemy in him, but the man that he was that caused her such discomfort.
Her heart rattled, and she touched a stake in the vines to help keep her balance. For Gaucelm was so near she could almost feel the warmth from his face. His eyes danced across her face, and she looked down as his gaze dropped to her lips.
A sudden rush of sensual longing filled her, and her lips parted as she took in a quick breath. How traitorous of her to find her enemy desirable. How traitorous of Simon de Montfort to send a man here capable of reminding her of her widowhood, to remind her of pleasures that had once been her right, but that she'd lived without and hardly missed these two years.
Gaucelm said nothing, but did not take his eyes away. As she flicked a glance his way, she thought that he took in her figure before returning his dark eyes, tinged with hunger, to her face.
She turned away, breathing quickly, moistening dry lips. An attractive man he might be, but she must not let him know she found him so.
She returned to the horses, and the dry grass crunched under his leather boots behind her. Without a word he laced his strong fingers together for her to step into briefly as she mounted, her long, loose skirt sweeping behind her.
Still trembling from what had just passed between them, Alle-sandra turned her horse and trotted along beside the pale-barked plane trees shading the edges of the vineyards. Ahead, a grassy meadow beckoned. From the top, flat-toned bells made a faint tintinnabulation where a large flock of sheep grazed. The shep-
herds kept their distance from the lord and lady flying along in their direction.
Allesandra circled before they reached the flock, leading Gaucelm off toward the more open lands beside the river. Here she could safely point out cottages that belonged to a hamlet of working peasants, his subjects now, and lead him away from the forested folds in the hills behind them.
They slowed to a walk beside the sparkling waters, ducking to avoid overhanging branches. At the small collection of thatched cottages, craftsmen and farmers stood up from their work before their cottages, the women with eyes downcast and the men with caps in hand.
"This is your new master," she said to the people of the village. "His steward will collect your revenues. I have sworn the oath of fealty to him. You will all come to the castle tomorrow beginning in the morning to do the
Gaucelm got down to inspect the grapes. She followed him, her own eyes scanning the fields. But the villeins kept well away, finding work to do at the far end of the fields. By now all would know that they had a new overlord. And they would come to pay their respects when it was time. For now, Allesandra tried to discern who among them might see who she was with and pass the word along as warning.
"They say that wine has a memory," he said, dropping to one knee and letting the vine trail across his gloved hand. "That wines are deeply unsettled at the time of the harvest. Do you believe that?"
His look sent a searing sensation across her, and she looked away, her expression neutral.
"The natural world is in some way part of us," she answered. "If we abuse it, we cannot expect it to be so generous with us in return."
"An interesting belief," he said, dropping the vine and regaining his height, "if perhaps somewhat pagan."
She took his meaning and squared her shoulders. "If you are
suggesting it is a Cathar belief, I doubt it. You must understand all the influences that have played a part in our land, my lord. The Arabs have left their traces. The Genoese and Venetians have traded here. Languedoc is a mixed culture. You will find many ideas unfamiliar to you; not necessarily all of them are Cathar."
"Not necessarily."
He took a step toward her between the vines, and she resisted her impulse to move back. She must not let him think she feared him. At the same time, his nearness affected her, and she began to see that it was not the enemy in him, but the man that he was that caused her such discomfort.
Her heart rattled, and she touched a stake in the vines to help keep her balance. For Gaucelm was so near she could almost feel the warmth from his face. His eyes danced across her face, and she looked down as his gaze dropped to her lips.
A sudden rush of sensual longing filled her, and her lips parted as she took in a quick breath. How traitorous of her to find her enemy desirable. How traitorous of Simon de Montfort to send a man here capable of reminding her of her widowhood, to remind her of pleasures that had once been her right, but that she'd lived without and hardly missed these two years.
Gaucelm said nothing, but did not take his eyes away. As she flicked a glance his way, she thought that he took in her figure before returning his dark eyes, tinged with hunger, to her face.
She turned away, breathing quickly, moistening dry lips. An attractive man he might be, but she must not let him know she found him so.
She returned to the horses, and the dry grass crunched under his leather boots behind her. Without a word he laced his strong fingers together for her to step into briefly as she mounted, her long, loose skirt sweeping behind her.
Still trembling from what had just passed between them, Alle-sandra turned her horse and trotted along beside the pale-barked plane trees shading the edges of the vineyards. Ahead, a grassy meadow beckoned. From the top, flat-toned bells made a faint tintinnabulation where a large flock of sheep grazed. The shep-
herds kept their distance from the lord and lady flying along in their direction.
Allesandra circled before they reached the flock, leading Gaucelm off toward the more open lands beside the river. Here she could safely point out cottages that belonged to a hamlet of working peasants, his subjects now, and lead him away from the forested folds in the hills behind them.
They slowed to a walk beside the sparkling waters, ducking to avoid overhanging branches. At the small collection of thatched cottages, craftsmen and farmers stood up from their work before their cottages, the women with eyes downcast and the men with caps in hand.
"This is your new master," she said to the people of the village. "His steward will collect your revenues. I have sworn the oath of fealty to him. You will all come to the castle tomorrow beginning in the morning to do the
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