"Come, let us bathe in the river before travelers or field hands set upon us here."
She wouldn't have minded lying down with him in the hay just as they were, but she wanted to wash the blood from his scratches and see for herself just how mean they were.
"If I had the proper herbs," she said, with concern in her voice, "I could make a salve."
He pulled her close for just a brief kiss on her forehead. "You will be the balm that heals."
He reached up to untie the lacings at the neck of her coarse gown and then bent to lift the hem over her head. She had no wounds to be careful of; rather she was aware of his hands as they sought to undo the coverings that she had made sure hid her form so that she could pose as one not whole.
He knelt in the hay to hold her shoes while she stepped out of them. Then his hands felt beneath her shift to the girdle where her leggings were tied. She trembled, standing there, holding the shift high to her waist so that he could undo the leggings, and then she dropped the shift modestly as the leggings fell. Still, he caressed her leg as he pulled the coarse cloth from her limbs.
Sharp desire pierced her at his ministrations. Now his gaze freely roamed over her face, his sensual lips curved in anticipation of pleasure. She did not know to what she owed this chance to be with him. But she dared not think about the future. They walked down to the water as the morning broke in earnest. At water's edge, he untied the drawstring that held the breeches and then dropped them unashamedly to the ground. She did not stare, but out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the hard thighs, scratched and stained with the blood of battle. He walked into the water waist-deep and then turned to encourage her to come in.
He closed his eyes in a wince as he let the water wash his scratches, but then he opened them again to watch her. She knew that he meant for her to remove the shift before she joined him
to bathe, but modesty made her step into the water up to her calves before she reached for the hem to pull the garment free of her head. Then she tossed it to the bank.
She took more steps into the water, and caught his gaze sinking to her fine breasts and then to the dark triangle just before she lowered herself into the cold river. Her skin chilled, but she hardly noticed. For the intimacy of their encounter and escape and now the erotic nature of their refuge here in the open, had already lifted her to an excitement she had not known before. She drank it in.
"How long do we have before we face danger again?" She put a hushed voice to her thoughts.
"I do not know," he replied. "But I do know that I wish to live the present moment to the fullest."
She pushed through the heavy, moving water to where Gaucelm stood. Water gurgled past them at chest height. He took her hand and she lay back to let the water run over her shoulders and her hair stream behind. Then she felt his hand wash her, and she parted her lips in pleasure at his touch.
He bathed her sensuously as if his hands enjoyed forming her shape in every place that he could touch. And then he moved to higher ground so that she could gently dip water to wash over his wounds.
"Ah, I see these are not so deep," she said. "The water will cleanse them, and the fresh air and sunlight will help the healing."
Then Gaucelm swam back into deeper waters, and she smiled to watch him splash about. She, too, waded in deeper, and then he was by her side. His hand came up to cradle her head, and his other arm slid around her back. She opened her mouth to meet his as he hungrily took a kiss. They drank the wetness from each other's mouths, tongues thrusting and probing.
One hand came up to touch her breast, and the sharp throb of desire eddied through her.
"I have waited more than fifteen months for this," he said almost with a growl. "I plan to take my time enjoying you."
"Oh, my lord," she said, resting her body against his as the water drifted around them. "I did not believe you thought of me."
"Hmmm," he murmured. "I did not hold out hopes that you would think on me kindly, either."
"I could never forget you," she said, her chest tightening with emotion. She frowned. "Though I am a traitor to say it."
He caressed her body consolingly as he spoke. "Certain things we cannot help. Our feelings know no politics."
She met his dark gaze with a questioning one of her own, remembering suddenly when she first set eyes on him at Muret. "Yet we fight for what is right on the side of different causes."
He pressed her breasts more tightly against his chest. "Do not ruin the moment, woman. We have left a battle behind. Both our skins are worth a ransom. That is not why I brought you here."
Her lids drooped over her eyes as she drew circles on his shoulder with a finger. "Why did you bring me here?"
"I think you can tell what my intentions are," he said, humor lacing his guttural tone.
And with his words, she felt the intimate thrust of his hardness against the bones that guarded the most private place on her body. She, too, took the time to experience every small aspect of this pleasure. Her heart palpitated. Chills prickled her skin. Her deep hunger and the daring of standing naked in the open thrilled her and made her arch against him. But the sun was well up now, and they might not remain alone for long.
Reflecting her thoughts, he pressed his hand against her side to guide her to shore. They reached for their clothing, but only to cover themselves while they made their way back to the shed. There was still no one about, and once inside, Gaucelm positioned more hay bales so that they would not be seen. She sank onto the bed of clothing that would protect their skin from the hay.
"We'll hear anyone before they can get within yards of this place," he assured her. Then he lowered himself to the nest he had made.
They stretched on their sides, leaning on elbows and gazing at each other with excitement and desire. It was a lover's reunion of the most touching kind. The year had been etched into his face. But she saw there that he had not forgotten her, and it made her yearn for him and thrill at his desire.
He feasted his dark eyes on her body, gently running his hand over her upright nipples and melon-shaped breasts. Then he followed the curve of waist and hip. She felt an inner thrill that her body pleased him and felt her breathing become more shallow as his hand explored the skin of her inner thighs.
She reached out to trace his hard chest, dried now by the sun and breeze. And the throbbing of desire increased within her. Inhibition fled from her as she bent forward to kiss his hard male nipples. Then she brushed her lips and tongue over his skin from chest to waist.
He rested on his back, his hand loosely moving in her hair as she played with him. His deep moan of pleasure urged her on. His masculinity made her feel daring and she felt free to do things she'd never done before, giving pleasure and taking pleasure like the ebb and flow of the water that had swirled about them sensuously outside.
Her hand slid up his thighs and explored on its own as she moved upward, kissing and caressing his skin, dropping gentle kisses on the scratches that already seemed less severe. When she had moved upward far enough, he reached for her, gazing with half lowered lids, his lips parted in desire.
"Lovely, lovely," he murmured. "I waited for this."
She half wondered if he meant that he'd not taken another woman since he'd been with her. It did not matter to her if he had, for there had been no promises and no guarantees that they would ever be with each other again. She found that nothing in the past mattered, only the fullness of the moment and the promise of what they were about to do.
He remained reclined, but moved her upward so that she lay with one leg over his, her breasts within reach of his mouth. Then he took the nipple and gently sucked, causing her to gasp and
shiver in pleasure. His hand thrust below, spreading her legs further apart, as her thigh grazed him. She lowered her head, her hair falling over him as they pressed, tasting, exploring, vibrating against each other.
Then he hoisted her astride him, and slipped into her. She pressed her hands against his shou
lders. Her hair tangled around his head and his thumbs pressed against her nipples.
"Oh, Gaucelm!" she gasped.
Then they found a rhythm as he thrust upward against her. She squeezed with her knees and held tight to his shoulders with her hands as he bucked under her, finding the spot that deepened her pleasure. Then he lowered her against him so that their mouths joined and his tongue reflected the movements below, and she drank him in.
Then suddenly his movements quickened. He released her mouth and she found her balance on her knees, arching her back as the deep uncontrollable quivering began. He held her waist firm and moaned as his thrusts exploded with even more passion. They gave release to their cries of ecstasy, moaning in unbelievable, intense pleasure such as they had never achieved before.
It lasted for a long moment and they squeezed the last ounce of sensation from the explosion within. Finally, she heaved in great gasps of breath and lay facedown upon him, burying her face in his hair as he cupped her buttocks gently with his hand. She nibbled at his ear as he caressed her hair.
"My love," he breathed. "I love you, Allesandra, my lady. I cannot deny it."
The ecstasy coupled with his words made her heart sing and she turned to smile at him. "I have loved you for a very long time, my lord."
He tucked her in against him.
They waited as their hearts slowly returned to earth. Then she found a position against his side and closed her eyes. In the cocoon of his love, she found badly needed slumber.
* * *
When she awoke, she was alone in the hay, but with some of the clothing neatly covering her. She blinked at sunlight creeping over the bales of hay. For a moment, her heart knocked with fear and she sat up. But then she glimpsed Gaucelm, dressed now in his shirt, tending the horse. So, they had still not been found by anyone. She took a deep breath and lay back, much as she would on a pleasant morning in her own bed after a fulfilling night.
Her heart turned over. Fulfilled she was, but uncertainty was not far away. When Gaucelm's form filled the opening they had made, she looked up at him, and he gazed down, his eyes smiling.
"No, do not move. I want to think of you thus. Your face has a deep contentment on it." Then he came to sit on the ground beside her and held her cheek in his hand.
"I saw you thus once, but you were asleep."
"So seldom—" she began, but he put a finger to her lips to stop her from lamenting how seldom they had found pleasure in each other's arms. "Will it be—" she started to ask, but again he silenced her, gathering her in his arms for a warm, slow kiss.
She held him against her, loving his nearness, wanting it to last forever. But physical needs were calling. He loosened his hold.
"I stopped a peddler," he informed her. "He was on his way to a fair and I managed to buy clothing that is better suited to us."
"With what did you pay?"
"There were coins in the saddlebags. The horse had a prosperous owner."
Her mood sobered. "I wonder who he was."
"Whoever he was, he will have found another horse by now," he said gently. "We must see to our own needs now."
She felt a tremor of anxiousness at what they would do next, but she didn't question him as they rose and bathed again in the river, then dressed in the simple, well-made garments. Gaucelm again resembled the merchant he had posed as to gain entrance to Avignon.
Only the sword in its sheath, which was fixed to the saddle,
looked ominous. But it would keep away robbers, who would think twice about bothering them. For even in merchant's clothing, Gaucelm looked like a prince, and a man who was adept at using weapons.
Their first requirement being food, they took to the road and soon came to a village. They obtained bread, cheese, and ale, and set to it on a bench outside the woman's door who fed them. She accepted payment and then spoke of the fair now going on in Aix, where the peddler who had sold them their clothing was bound.
"Aix is not far from Marseilles," Allesandra said when the woman had left them alone. They could not risk being seen together in such a public place as a town for fear they would be recognized and their loyalty questioned.
But Allesandra did not yet know what Gaucelm planned to do. She was not ready to turn her mind to her responsibilities. That time would come. She would lose him again. But for a moment, perhaps a day, he was hers and she refused to let anything mar that happiness.
When they finished their meal and washed it down with ale, they took the horse and walked along a lane that led among trees.
"This is not the way to Aix," she said when they had reached the dappled shade. "Unless you know this country better than I think."
"I do not know the country at all. I merely wished to walk a little."
They walked in silence for a distance, and Allesandra breathed in the fragrances of forest and field nearby. The people this far to the east had been free of the war. Their overlords paid homage to the German emperor. But then she did not know if the French king planned to march this way as well. And she did not care to ask.
Still, there was much that needed to be said between herself and Gaucelm. Now that they'd shared such ecstasy, she felt the tug of longing that would come when he left again.
"I wondered if you hated me," she said at last, stopping by a thick plane tree and running her hand along its flaky bark.
He stopped to consider her but said nothing. Then he looped the horse's reins around a branch and walked a little away, looking off into the distance.
He did not answer, but she realized that she preferred his silence to a lie. He turned back and came to her, leaning his hand against the tree and looking down at her. The troubled look on his face reflected many of her own feelings. Her body still tingled when he was near, and she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tree.
"Would that we were simple peasants," she mused. "I feel the weight of my wealth."
He gave a despairing laugh, "Peasants free from duty, tied only to the soil." She opened her eyes again to watch him twist a twig from the branch above them.
"But even the peasants suffer in these times," she said bitterly. She turned her face away from him, the sadness creeping back to mar the joy she had found in his arms.
"You are a heroine among your people," he said.
"I cannot deny the part I play in this war."
"Nor I mine."
"So," she said, lowering her chin to stare at the ground. "There is no hope and no escape for us. You will return to your army."
"I cannot do otherwise. And you?"
"I must help Toulouse. It is our last chance." Then she could bear to look at him no longer. "Gaucelm," she said with sudden feeling and walked away, grasping one of the low branches. "Why could you not have been born in the South?"
"Or you in the North? Ah, but do you really think that if you were a mason's wife as you once pretended to be, that you would find solace in the religion that you seem to hate?"
She flushed. "We tread on dangerous ground, my lord. Why must we speak of religion now?"
"You are right. Let us speak of other things." He changed his
tone. "Shall I tell you how I thought about you during the winters in Paris?"
"Did you?" She turned and smiled.
"I wondered if you were angry when you found a collection of your poetry stolen."
"I did not know you had stolen it. But I did see it was missing. I thought only that I had misplaced it or that one of the troubadours took it."
"Ah, yes, your friends, the troubadours."
"What of them?"
"Gallant knights all, ready to serve a damsel in distress. I'm surprised you did not marry one of them."
"How could I?" She was surprised that he could think she could marry anyone else after the passion they had shared.
Still, his tone held a slightly masked resentment. "I see that the younger Raymond travels with you. Does he always escort you on journeys?"
She felt the first t
ouches of anger. "If you mean, is he my lover, no, he is not. Neither are we betrothed."
"I see."
"You see, but you think my affections are fickle."
"I did not say I understand women."
She exhaled a breath, hating the anger that still came between them. It quickly brought tears to sting her eyes. Happiness was not possible. She'd been a fool to imagine it was.
She gave a bitter laugh. "Then our rendezvous is over. We must make our way back to our battles."
"Then you will continue to fight?" he asked.
"Of course. What do you think I am? You can seduce me, my lord. But I am not such a weakling that I will turn traitor and hand you my household. We do not want the French in our lands. I do not want the French in my lands. That much will never change, no matter what happens between us."
He gazed at the passion in her face and believed her. Regret pervaded his heart.
"Perhaps I am the fool. I am still able to imagine the crusade
at an end, Louis satisfied with new lands, the South subjugated and you, my lady, in my arms. You hold out foolishly."
She looked away from him. "We do not think so. Toulouse will never bend."
"You cannot win. Already much of the South has given up the fight."
"Toulouse will not give up."
"What do you think you can achieve against the king of France?"
"We will keep our independence."
"I despair of your steadfast loyalty to a way of life that is doomed, my dear. Equally exasperated by your loyalty to friends who seem to mean more to you than one who loves you."
She parted her lips in surprise. "How can you say that? You understand nothing if you do not know, do not see how I feel."
"You may not be a heretic yourself but you will go to great lengths to protect them."
"What would you have me do, turn over their names so those hateful, greedy churchmen can seize their lands?"
"So you have names to turn over, do you?"
The troubadour's song Page 26
