annoyed or amused. “Well, this I can say for certes, that I never expected to be lectured on carnal matters by my little sister.”
“Your ‘little sister’ is a woman grown, in case you’ve not noticed. For a number of years, I presided over a court as worldly as any in Christendom, and that includes Maman’s court at Poitiers.” There was an edge to her smile. Yes, Maman had been forced to overlook Papa’s infidelities, but at least he’d not kept a harim of Saracen slave girls. She was not about to discuss that with her brother, though. Instead she linked her arm through his and then gave him a playful push, telling him to go back to Messina whilst she comforted his bashful bride.
Joanna was as good as her word, and soon thereafter, she knocked upon the door of Berengaria’s guest cottage. It opened so quickly she knew the other woman must have been expecting Richard to return, an inference confirmed by the conflicted emotions that chased across Berengaria’s face: hope, disappointment, and relief. She stepped aside, politely opening the door wider when Joanna asked to enter.
Joanna was glad to see she was still alone, not having called her duennas back yet, for a delicate discussion like this required privacy. She was glad, too, that Berengaria did not seem overly distraught; she’d half expected to find her in hysterics, weeping and apprehensive. But her pallor was the only sign of distress; Berengaria’s brown eyes were dry. Joanna suddenly wished she’d thought out what she wanted to say beforehand. Too late to retreat now, though. “I thought you might feel like talking, Berengaria. I remember my first argument with William—”
Berengaria gasped. “Richard told you?”
“No, he did not,” Joanna said hastily. “I guessed, which was easy enough to do, since he looked like a storm cloud. Also, I know how eager men are to plant their flags and claim their territory.”
Berengaria raised her chin. “If you’ve come to counsel me to yield—”
“Indeed not! You must follow the dictates of your conscience, not Richard’s. Assuming he has one,” Joanna added with a grin. “Actually, I think it was good that you stood up to him. It never hurts to remind a man that he cannot always have his own way. I wanted to make sure that you were not overly troubled by the quarrel. You need not fear that he’ll nurse a grudge or that he is well and truly wroth with you, for he is not.”
Berengaria surprised her then by saying, “I know. I could see that he was more vexed than outraged.” Sitting down on a coffer chest, she studied the other woman, trying to make up her mind. It would be wonderful to have a confidante, to be able to talk about the confusing feelings and urges that were preying on her peace. But did she dare to confide in Richard’s sister? When Joanna moved to the table and poured wine for them both, she said before she could repent of it, “I wish Richard and I had not quarreled. But I am not so sheltered that I do not know husbands and wives will disagree. It is something else that is troubling me, a serious sin. . . .”
Joanna did not like the sound of that. Summoning up what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she seated herself beside Berengaria on the coffer. “Can you tell me about it?”
Berengaria wavered before saying in a low voice, no longer meeting Joanna’s eyes. “Padre Domingo, my confessor, cautioned me that I must be vigilant in protecting my virtue. He said . . . said Richard might want to lie with me ere we were wed, but I must not permit it. So I was prepared when he . . .” She let her words trail off, but then she stiffened her spine and said resolutely, “I did not expect, though, to like it so much when Richard kisses me. I was too prideful, Joanna, sure that I could not be tempted by the sin of lust. . . .”
“I see,” Joanna murmured, trying to conceal her relief. She’d feared Berengaria was going to confess that she believed sexual intercourse was always a sin, even in the marriage bed, for she knew some women took to heart the Church’s teaching that no fruitfulness of the flesh could be compared to holy virginity, the highest form of spiritual purity. She watched color stain Berengaria’s cheeks and she suddenly realized that Padre Domingo was