good times, blamed in bad, and to be cautious of always.
Rather like a king, actually, Galeran thought, glancing sideways at her and drinking from the goblet they shared.
Because he was turned that way, he noticed that Raoul and Aline were being much more successful at presenting the appearance of a happy couple.
Raoul and Aline?
Galeran loved his friend almost like a brother, but he had few illusions about his behavior with women. Surely Raoul would never be so foolish as to attempt to seduce a virgin lady. Especially one like Aline, as good as pledged to the Church.
If he did, it might end with Galeran having to discuss it with him at sword's length. That he certainly did not need.
Aline was pink. Was Raoul embarrassing her?
* * * * * Aline didn't know if she was in heaven or hell.
Truly, Raoul de Jouray was just the type of man she disliked, and the fact that he was handsome and charming only made it worse! He probably expected all women lowborn or high - to crumple at the mere sight of one of his slight, teasing smiles.
But ever since the bath that morning, it had been as if she'd an itch on her skin, an itch made worse whenever he came near her, or whenever he caught her eye across the room. Her normally clear thoughts were constantly tangled, probably because she couldn't think of anything except when he would appear, and what he would say or do when he did.
For some reason, having seen his naked body once, his clothes, even his mail, had become transparent and she could see it all the time.
The ride from Burstock had been exquisite torture, since he had ridden by her side the whole way. She'd tried to ignore him, but he had asked questions about the countryside, forcing her to answer. When she was reluctant to speak, he had told her of his own homeland in France and his travels to Spain, and to the Holy Land.
Footloose, she'd tried to tell herself. A wandering free lance really, without property or prospects. Though why that should bother her, she didn't know, since she was going to be a nun, and had no interest in Raoul de Jouray.
Or no interest she couldn't rid herself of with a bit of willpower.
Now, at the meal, Raoul wasn't flirting with her. He sent her no special looks, gave her no teasing touches. He was not praising her skin, her eyes, her lips, her hair. . . . They were just talking and eating.
So why did she feel hot and twitchy?
He was speaking of Flanders. "I think you'd like it, Lady Aline. They are a very practical people, the Flemish."
"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