chambers and not until he rode from Poitiers’s gates.
As will you, my fair Eleanor. As will you.
Chapter Three
‘Your Grace!’
Both Godfroi and Henry’s counsellor, William, called out the words at the same time, sending it echoing through the large chamber where the negotiations were being held. Once she’d decided that Henry would be the man to see to her fortunes and to herself, the discussions had begun in earnest and in secret. Time was scant and they needed to move forward quickly before Louis learned of their intent and tried to stop it out of fear for what their alliance could mean to him and his rule.
Henry had tried again to argue for control over Aquitaine to pass to him and Eleanor had let slip a rather rude epithet, one she’d heard many times while in the company of crusaders and one she thought explained her position on Henry’s demand exactly. Those of a gentler disposition assisting in the discussions apparently did not appreciate the candour of the word or her use of it.
Henry… well, Henry seemed to laugh it off, accepting her foibles during these discussions, whether it was her use of this particular word or her ongoing refusal to acquiesce to his demands. He watched her in a way that took her breath away, but she was coming to know that he did everything with an intensity she’d never known in a man before. Though he never repeated, nor did she, the kisses or caresses of that first meeting, she could tell by the way his grey eyes darkened when he was thinking on matters of the flesh.
At times, he seemed to undress her with that intense gaze, and she could swear she felt his fingers sliding over her clothing, loosening and untying laces, peeling away layers, until her very skin burned in anticipation. Though she had enjoyed the pleasure found in the marriage bed, Louis had looked on it as a chore and something he must do. He was never unkind in those matters, but did not like to linger or explore or spend more time than was necessary to accomplish his goal—spill his seed within her and then pray she would bear a son.
Now though, every time Henry touched her, and he seemed to do so with increased frequency and ardour, her body readied itself for him, for more. From the look he gave her now and the way he slid his tongue along his lips as though preparing himself to taste something sweet, she hoped these discussions would finish quickly. For the shallow woman everyone seemed to think she was did indeed live within her and that woman was ready to invite him to her bed… now… outside the vows of marriage.
Could he read her thoughts? Was she as transparent as her favourite silken veil? It must be so, for he watched her and then laughed to himself.
‘Forgive me, good sirs,’ she said, nodding to each of the counsellors. ‘I but forgot myself momentarily in my enthusiasm to bring these discussions to a pleasing conclusion.’
Though certain that Godfroi and William were thinking of a successful marriage contract that benefited their own lord or lady the most, she was thinking of another conclusion, one that would have Henry in her bed…
‘Your Grace?’ Godfroi said quietly, waiting for her to stir from the lustful reverie that seemed to overtake her when in the same room with the duke. ‘Mayhap if Your Graces take a walk around the garden, William and I could come up with the suitable wording?’
In other words, pray thee leave and let those less involved handle these personal matters.
‘Your Grace?’ she said, looking at Henry. ‘What say you to Godfroi’s suggestion?’
Henry nodded. He never remained still for long and being closed up in this room for these hours must grate on him. The suggestion made him smile and he held out his hand to her.
‘An excellent one, Your Grace,’ he said, leading her to the door. ‘The sun is most agreeable this day and a brief respite would do us all good.’ It sounded so polite, like any other courtier’s expected reply, until he whispered under his to her. ‘They wish to be rid of us both, Eleanor. Let us away before they decide otherwise!’
He took her hand firmly in his, entwining their fingers, and then he ran down the corridor, forcing her to keep pace with him. Their maids and menservants were caught by surprise and were dozens of paces behind them—Henry’s clear intention—when they arrived at the gate of the garden. Laughing and out of breath, she could only allow him to pull her into the garden and then watch as he locked the gates against the rest of them.
Her guards called out to her, always mindful of the dangers that yet existed for her, but she answered them, and soon it was just Henry and her… alone.
‘Walk with me, Eleanor,’ he asked prettily.
How could she refuse such a request when done nicely? She held out the hand he’d released and they walked, though briskly, around the perimeter of the manicured gardens. She loved this one best and would miss it when she went to live in…
‘Where will we live?’ she asked.
‘So you think these matters will be worked out, then?’ he asked, stopping for a moment and then walking again.
‘I have never been to Rouen,’ she said, ignoring his question and continuing as though everything were settled. Because it would be. ‘Is it warm there?’
‘Rouen is a beautiful city, but there are others in Normandy if you do not like it,’ he offered. Now it was her turn to be surprised by such an offer.
‘But it is the seat of your duchy. Surely the duke and duchess should reside there.’
He pulled to a stop and faced her. ‘My mother maintains a household in Rouen.’
‘Is that a warning or an invitation?’
Since the Plantagenets, as Henry’s father called themselves, and the Capets tended to be enemies, Eleanor had had no opportunity to meet the extraordinary woman who had nearly claimed England as her own and now sought it for her son.
‘I think you would find her interesting,’ he explained, the respect for his mother evident in his voice and tone. ‘She has had many interesting experiences similar to yours and you might find her helpful in establishing yourself as the Duchess of Normandy.’
His mother had been the Empress of Germany during her first marriage and from a very young age, much as Eleanor had married and become Queen of France.
‘I would like to meet her,’ she admitted.
Strong women in power were so few in these times when inheritances were more and more going only through male heirs. Eleanor knew that she was in fact only a placeholder for the titles of Aquitaine and Poitou and would relinquish them to a son, if she had any. Though Henry pushed for it, she would not, however, relinquish her rights to those if they married. She had held them through her marriage to Louis and as that relationship ended.
‘There is another similarity between the two of you, Eleanor.’ His voice was lighter, teasing her, and she tried to think of another thing she could have in common with the empress. ‘After marrying older men in your first marriage, you have both taken on the challenge of marrying someone much younger in your second.’
Eleanor laughed then, for Henry leaned in closer and teased, ‘I hope you hold up as well as she did.’
He failed to mention how much his mother hated his father and she hoped
