Free The Book of Love by Kathleen McGowan Page A

its way toward the house. He could not know that the fear and trepidation he was feeling—fear of rejection, anxiety over the initial moments of meeting—was identical to what Maureen was experiencing. He did not come down immediately to greet her. He chose to wait and gauge her reaction to Roland and the environment, hoping it would prepare him for whatever shemight be feeling. He had not expected the emotional outpouring that had come with her arrival. Neither had she.
    Roland and Tammy escorted Maureen to her favorite room in the château, the Magdalene room, to give her time to settle down and prepare before dinner. The exquisite bedroom, well suited for a queen, was draped in crimson velvets and took its name from the Ribera painting, Magdalene in the Desert , that dominated one wall. Today the room was filled with the heady scent of Casablanca lilies. The copious white blooms spilled out of crystal vases throughout the room.
    The tap on her door an hour later was gentle, causing Maureen to think it was one of the housekeepers coming to alert her to dinner. She was ready, having changed into evening dress and repaired the makeup that had been smeared by the crying jag. Opening the door, she stopped cold. Bérenger Sinclair leaned against the door frame, tall and beautiful and smiling at her with such warmth that she could only wonder just what defect in her psyche had made her behave like such an unforgiving idiot.
    She only had to wonder for a moment. After that, she was in his arms as the world melted away around them.
     
    They were very nearly late for dinner, but it was Maureen who came to her senses and called a halt to their unexpectedly passionate reunion.
    Bérenger was the essence of chivalry, even as he ran his hands through the silken copper strands of her hair, relishing her physical presence. It was with reluctance that he agreed to go downstairs, where he would have to share her company.
    She was here. For now, that would have to be enough.
     
    Dinner passed companionably as Maureen answered all the curious questions about her life since the release of the book. She relaxedquickly, contented to be in the presence of these three people whom she trusted entirely. Everyone had a story to tell; there was much catching up to do on all sides. By dessert, the topic had turned to the legend of the Book of Love and how it had been preserved in the Languedoc.
    Bérenger took the lead. “The Book of Love is the gospel, the good news, as written by Jesus himself. It represents his true teachings in their purest form. His parables, his prayers, his commandments. Everything we as human beings need in order to find God through the Way of Love.”
    “It is everything we need to know to become perfect,” Roland explained. “In Cathar tradition, those who reached an exalted level of understanding these teachings were called perfecti , or parfait , in French, one who had become perfect. That doesn’t mean ‘perfect’ in the sense that we know it today. It means that they had learned to live entirely as love expressed, through love and without judgment. That is the end goal of Jesus’ teachings. In becoming beings who love, we are modeling our lives after our father in heaven, who is love.”
    Maureen was still for a moment before responding. She had not yet shared this part of her dream with Roland and Bérenger, yet they seemed to grasp it already. “Be ye therefore perfect.”
    “Exactly,” Bérenger said. “Thankfully, some of the true teachings did make it into the canonical gospels, like that one from the Gospel of Matthew, and certainly the entire Sermon on the Mount and the Lord’s Prayer with it.”
    “Back up for a minute,” Maureen said. “So we know that Jesus writes this in his lifetime and he gives it to Mary Magdalene, who is not only his wife but his successor as a teacher and minister. And we know that there are copies of it, because she refers to one written by Philip. But the original