“I could not be sure if you were truly willing or if you’d been pressured by Richard into agreeing. I knew you’d been struck by the same lightning bolt, but that did not necessarily mean you would want to wed me. Three years had passed, after all,” he said, with a sudden smile, “and the memory of my potent charm might have faded. Having had two unwilling wives, I was not keen to take a third.”
Joanna was very curious about his former wives. “Will you tell me about them?”
“My first marriage was not of my wife’s choosing, nor mine, either. But Ermessinde was the Countess of Melguel and my father was determined to have Melguel. She was newly widowed and I was much younger, not yet sixteen, so I could understand why she balked. We eventually became friends, though she lived only four years, and when she died, Melguel passed to me. My father usually got what he wanted,” Raimond said, the corner of his mouth twisting into a smile that held no humor.
“And Beatrice Trencavel?”
“We got along well enough in the beginning. I knew she was a Believer, but I thought that was between her and her God. I did not allow her to raise our daughter, Constance, as one, though, and she came to resent me for that. She also grew more devout as the years went by, and paid the marital debt with increasing reluctance, fearful that she was putting her immortal soul at risk. So . . . I looked elsewhere when Luc was in need of indulgence, and I never had to look far.”
Remembering how sharply she’d chastised him in the Bordeaux gardens, blaming him for the failure of his marriage, Joanna felt a pang of remorse. “You ought to have made it known that she was a Cathar, Raimond. Your enemies have used your unhappy marriage as one more weapon against you, claiming that you were heartless in putting her aside and depraved in siring bastards. If they knew the truth—”
“It would make no difference, Joanna. Dogs are always going to bark. I did not want to draw the Church’s ire down upon Beatrice; she is still Constance’s mother. And because she is a Trencavel, her family would become even more suspect in the eyes of men like Cardinal Melior, including my sister and nephew.”
His tone had been serious, even somber, as he’d related his melancholy marital history, but she would soon learn that he could never be serious for long. The mention of the papal legate’s name had awakened his sense of mischief and he gave her a wickedly gleeful smile. “Think how pleased the good cardinal will be to hear that you’ve wed one of the Devil’s disciples, love. I think we ought to name our first daughter Melusine and ask him to serve as godfather.”
When he saw that she was amused, not disconcerted, by his audacity, he reached over and drew her into his arms, marveling at how well matched they were, in and out of bed. His kiss was meant to be approving, affectionate, but she responded with such ardor that it soon became a passionate one. “Luc is stirring,” he joked. “Do you want to wake him up?”
Joanna had never been a woman to refuse a dare, especially one she could win with such ease. “If I do, will you take me to the mountaintop?”
His breath quickened as her hand slid caressingly down his chest, toward his groin. “I promise,” he said, and proved to be a man of his word.
AFTER THEIR WEDDING, Raimond took Joanna home to Toulouse, where she was given a joyful welcome into the city that reminded her of her torch-lit entry into Palermo nigh on twenty years ago. He then took her on a leisurely circuit of his domains to introduce her to his vassals. She’d not realized how extensive his holdings were, and decided it was not surprising that the dukes of Aquitaine had been so set upon reclaiming it for their duchy. By mid-December they were at Carcassonne, expecting to be back at Toulouse in time for their Christmas Court. Raimond was a noted patron of troubadours and jongleurs, and he was eager for them to celebrate the beauty and charm of his bride, assuring Joanna that the best would be in attendance—Peire Vidal, Raimon de Miraval, Gaucelm Faidit, and even Arnaut de Mareuil, whose plaintive songs of love for Raimond’s sister Azalais had gotten him banished for a time from his lady’s presence.