The troubadour’s name was Jaufre Rudel, and he was the most celebrated—and romantically desired—poet in the court at Poitou. Jaufre was tall—t...ller than most men, and had swarthy olive skin, darkened with the southern sun. His hair was black and fell below his ears—the color an intriguing contrast against his clear blue eyes. Though he was not a knight, he was very well muscled and I found myself wondering what his body looked like beneath his tunic and trousers. I blushed at the thought.. Would you like the drawing? You can do whatever you want with it then and you won’t have to worry about anyone else seeing it.”“Really?”“Sure.” I leafed through the loose pages in my book and pulled out the picture of him. He took it and looked at it closely. His eyes came up and met mine and he smiled. He pushed the page back at me and I thought he was refusing.“Sign it?” he asked. We all laughed and I grabbed a pencil out of my bag, scrawled my name on the bottom, and handed it back. “Thanks.. More

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