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Royal Weddings … Through the Ages

What the Duchess Wants

Terri Brisbin

Lionheart’s Bride

Michelle Willingham

Prince Charming in Disguise

Bronwyn Scott

A Princely Dilemma

Elizabeth Rolls

The Problem with Josephine

Lucy Ashford

Princess Charlotte’s Choice

Ann Lethbridge

With Victoria’s Blessing

Mary Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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What the
Duchess Wants

Terri Brisbin

About the Author

TERRI BRISBIN is wife to one, mother of three and dental hygienist to hundreds when not living the life of a glamorous romance author. She was born, raised and is still living in the southern New Jersey suburbs. Terri’s love of history led her to write time-travel romances and historical romances set in Scotland and England. Readers are invited to visit her website for more information at www.terribrisbin.com, or contact her at PO Box 41, Berlin, NJ 08009-0041, USA.

Previous novels by Terri Brisbin:

THE DUMONT BRIDE

LOVE AT FIRST STEP (short story in The Christmas Visit) THE NORMAN’S BRIDE THE COUNTESS BRIDE THE EARL’S SECRET TAMING THE HIGHLANDER SURRENDER TO THE HIGHLANDER POSSESSED BY THE HIGHLANDER BLAME IT ON THE MISTLETOE (short story in One Candlelit Christmas) THE MAID OF LORNE THE CONQUEROR’S LADY THE MERCENARY’S BRIDE HIS ENEMY’S DAUGHTER

And in Mills & Boon^® Historical Undone! eBooks:

A NIGHT FOR HER PLEASURE*

* linked to The Knights of Brittany trilogy

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Prologue

City of Paris, Île-de-France, 1151 AD

‘Whoever named him Geoffrey the Fair had the right of it.’

Eleanor, Duchess of Aquitaine and Queen of France, tried to ignore the comment, whispered from behind her by one of the many women attending Louis’s court, but it was difficult to ignore the truth. The next comment caught her full attention.

‘They say his son is seeking a wife.’

God forgive her, she did look just then at the two men standing off to one side of Louis’s hall, awaiting their turn to speak to the king. Sitting up straighter, she adjusted her veil and smoothed her gown. They were both excellent specimens of manhood: proficient warriors, proven leaders, with more-than-pleasing physical attributes. And anger sat on their features, highlighting both their similarities and differences. Eleanor watched as they gathered their allies around them, discussing whatever matter brought them to Paris and to face the King of France.

Searching her memory, Eleanor realised that two matters brought Geoffrey, the sometimes-rancorous Count of Anjou, and Henry, his heir, to court—to see to the investiture of Henry as Duke of Normandy and to deal with one of Louis’s own stewards whom Geoffrey accused of taking part in the plundering of the marches of Anjou.

Fighting words from a fighting man and one who expected the king’s justice on the matter.

She wondered if this was wise since Louis tended to side with Eustace of Blois and Henry was pushing next to claim his rights to the English throne, one to which Eustace was his rival. The House of Anjou now stood under sanction from the church for their treatment of Louis’s man, something the king’s religious advisor thought would soften the count into releasing him. Instead of reacting as most would have—quaking in fear of the damnation of their immortal souls—the count had simply accepted the guilt of his actions and dared the old priest who’d pressed for their excommunication for more!

Eleanor’s own man, Godfroi of Poitiers, had explained the intricacies of this case with her, since Anjou and Poitou were historically either enemies or allies and Godfroi had knowledge of their ongoing relationship. Still, they stood waiting, almost challenging Louis to take them on and give them their say.

At the beginning of their marriage, Eleanor would not have hesitated to offer her counsel to Louis in matters such as these, but now, things were so very different for them. Her own advisors were seeking ways to end their marriage and every step she took and each word she spoke were scrutinised ad infinitum and ad nauseam—something that had grown tiresome years ago. Eleanor glanced over at her daughter Marie and watched as she admired the Angevins too. Glancing around, she noticed that not a woman in the room, save the three older nuns who attended from the abbey she and Louis sponsored, missed a move the father and son made.

A match between Marie and Henry had already been refused because Abbé Bernard declared such a marriage too close in relationship. Watching her daughter’s reaction, Eleanor wondered if she’d given up on the possibility or was nursing the romantic idea of a love lost. When the man who prevented that marriage entered, the entire crowd grew silent as he limped his way through the throngs who watched.

When Abbé Bernard reached the dais, he turned and blessed those watching but purposely turned his back to the Angevins! Now loud complaints and grumbling echoed through the crowd until Louis raised his hand to bring it to a halt. Knowing his predilection for every word the abbé uttered and his natural antagonism towards the count and his heir, she wondered at Louis’s decision to hear the matter of the abbé’s sanction in public.

Finally, Louis stood and motioned to his chancellor, who escorted the men away to his office where the king could speak with them. Eleanor stood and decided to accompany her husband. These Angevins were intriguing and she wanted to learn more about them after seeing them in person. Although Louis frowned at her, he did not order her away, so Eleanor followed along and entered the chambers he used for just this purpose. Surprisingly, the abbé did not join them, though several other bishops did, along with a few trusted nobles who had common borders with Anjou and the other provinces held by that family.

Louis waited for her to be seated before offering chairs to the others and then the discussions commenced. Geoffrey articulated their arguments succinctly and Eleanor fought a smile at how well he did so. Though his son remained at his side, the young man said nothing, simply watching and absorbing and studying every word spoken. He missed nothing, not even her observation of him, and he offered a discreet tilt of his head to acknowledge her attentions.

’Twas then she began to notice things about him. Though young, he had the body and stature of a warrior and she remembered he’d been knighted by his great-uncle David, the King of Scotland. Power and confidence flowed in his veins and throughout him, making it impossible for her not to watch him now. He nodded at several points made by his father, but did not speak. Although he disagreed with Louis’s position on several items, only his stance betrayed it and mayhap she was the only one watching so closely as to see it.

More than an hour passed and still they argued over the disposition of Anjou’s prisoner, whom he refused to give up without guarantees of action from the king. Ministers huffed and puffed and the Angevins stood their ground. No amount of threats or cajoling seemed to sway the opinions of the count and the duke. Then suddenly, angry words were spoken and the Angevins left!

Eleanor had never seen the likes of this before—a noble leaving in the middle of a parley, refusing all offers and demands and walking away without any resolution. She could tell from Louis’s expression that their behaviour surprised him as well, for his mouth tightened into a thin line and his brows gathered in a fierce frown. But, before they left the chamber, the duke caught her gaze and winked, giving her every sign that this was purely a manoeuvre meant to gain them leverage against their opponents.

The French nobles were insulted and demanded Louis take action, but he forestalled any repercussions with a word. Those in the chamber began to leave, both to see to their own issues and to spread the word of the outrageous behaviour they’d witnessed. With a nod to Louis, Eleanor found her maidservant and ladies waiting for her in the corridor and sought out her chambers.

Later that night, after sending the women away and discussing the day with her trusted advisor, Eleanor decided to enter into private communications with the Angevins. She believed she could aid them in moving across this quagmire safely and they could, in return, be the very thing she sought—someone, a nobleman, strong enough to offer a soon-to-be divorced queen sanctuary….

Or something more than sanctuary…

A future that would see Aquitaine and Poitou joined to Normandy and Anjou in an alliance stronger than either thought possible.

More than that, the possibility that teased her far into the night and into the next days, weeks and months was one of finding a husband worthy of her and all she had to offer.

Could Henry Fitz-Empress be that man?

Chapter One

City of Poitiers, Duchy of Aquitaine, spring 1152 AD

‘Why do I feel as though I am simply moving between prisons?’ Eleanor twisted the edge of her sleeve between her fingers and glanced over at the man before her. Luckily, the fabric was already pleated so her rough handling of it did not make it look worse for it.

Godfroi had been the commander of her personal guard for years and had remained behind in Aquitaine during most of her marriage to Louis, defending her home and her lands. At least, he had until she’d needed him these past difficult years. Now, she entrusted him with the most delicate of tasks—negotiating the possibility of marrying the Duke of Normandy.

‘Perhaps because you are?’ he replied, his droll and sometimes bold sense of humour apparent even in this serious situation. ‘But then does a queen truly expect her life to be otherwise?’

Eleanor sighed, looking away from his astute gaze. Duchess or queen, the expectations of others guided and ruled her life. Born from bloodlines that could trace back to Charlemagne, duty had been the first word she’d learned and would be the last concern when her life ended. These doubts, voiced to someone she trusted with her life, were only momentary lapses in the musings of an otherwise confident woman.

‘Tell me your impressions of him, Godfroi. Not what everyone at court said. Not the ones I gathered from our brief encounter and those few missives between us in Paris last year. Tell me what you have learned of the man I would have as husband and lord.’

‘He is very different from Louis.’

She laughed then and turned to face him. ‘There are not many men who are like Louis.’ Eleanor searched Godfroi’s face to see if he had been being sarcastic or serious. ‘My first husband would have been more content in a monastery than in his palaces. He could have spent every moment in prayer and would not have had a wife who placed the demands of the flesh on him. How is this Angevin different from that?’

‘Twas the root of the whole matter when she considered it.

Her marriage to Louis Capet had been for dynastic reasons and power and had brought together her properties with his, creating a kingdom that was double in size to his lands alone. She’d brought wealth and titles to the match and a body ready to produce heirs. Unfortunately, daughters were all they’d created between them, along with scandal, war and discontent. Meeting up with her vibrant uncle during the crusade to the Holy Land had made her think again of all that she’d given up to live as Louis’s wife and to suffer from the scorn and diatribes of all his counsellors and bishops. Ultimately, it had been her daughters, now under his custody and control, who were the key to her freedom and her annulment.

‘He is filled with a breathless and ruthless enthusiasm for life. Henry could never be controlled by the church or others. His life spent waiting for the crown of England has been spent in honing his skills as a warrior and a king. And I suspect that you will not have to force him into demands of the flesh.’

Only Godfroi could say such things without being impudent, but his words answered her concerns about things of a personal nature. Eleanor was exhausted by the constant demands of Louis’s ministers and his church cronies, and though the worst had passed away, others had not relented in their condemnation of her and anything and everything she did or said. They’d even blamed her for the debacle in the Holy Land!

‘Truly?’ she asked, waiting to see if she could bring the hint of a blush to this imperturbable man. Eleanor realised that there were repercussions to that kind of husband as well. The heat of a blush entered her own cheeks and surprised her. She’d lived a full life and was a mature woman of thirty years and she thought more worldly than a blushing maiden approaching her first marriage bed.

‘Just so, Your Grace,’ Godfroi replied, tipping his head to her.

‘I would meet with him before I agree to this match,’ she said.

‘That could be difficult now. His brother and others so lately seeking your hand as well.’ They’d attempted to kidnap her so that she’d had no other choice was a better description of the matter. Henry’s brother, Geoffrey the Younger, had ambushed her just before she’d reached Blois, then Thibault of that city had chased into her own city of Poitiers. She may no longer be Queen of France, but she would not accept second-born sons much lower than she was in status, name or wealth to husband!

‘Make it so, Godfroi. I have only met the man in the presence of others. I would assess him in privacy and speak with him candidly without others to hear the conversation.’

If Godfroi thought it was a mistake, he did not say. He simply bowed to her and left to make it happen. Such was his way. She knew he would keep her best interests in mind while negotiating this new marriage, just as she did not doubt Henry would impress her as much in a private discussion as he had when he appeared with his father before Louis demanding to be invested as Duke of Normandy. For once in her life, she held the reins in her hands. For once, she would exercise control not afforded to most women in this world.

For once, Eleanor, Duchess of Aquitaine and former Queen of France, would make her own decision.

Henry paced.

When the son of Empress Matilda and her second husband wanted something and it did not come to hand, he paced. Henry had waited and fought for the English crown and it yet remained out of his grasp. Now, he wanted Eleanor and all she brought and she sent her warrior instead.

‘She said what?’ he demanded, not believing the words spoken by the man playing messenger to a seemingly reluctant woman.

‘The queen—’

‘No longer.’

‘The duchess would like to continue the negotiations in person.’

He roared out his anger and frustration, effectively clearing the chamber of all who would take cover from him at times like this. More effective sometimes than a mild request, he used it when needed. Times like this when he did not wish to appear too conciliatory or needy, or when there were issues to discuss that were better done without an audience.

But need her, he did.

And the man facing him now seemed to grasp all that he would hide from others, and more.

‘Speak,’ he ordered. Henry walked around the perimeter of the chamber as he listened.

‘She seems to favour your suit over others,’ the knight admitted quietly. Henry sensed it was a difficult disclosure for this man sworn to the duchess’s personal safety and honour. ‘Over others who have tried to force the issue.’

Henry considered the words and their intended result. He remembered meeting the then Queen of France at her husband’s court last autumn. Though well-mannered and quiet as befit the wife of the monk-turned-king, her vitality and thirst for life was barely constrained and he recognised the kindred spirit within her. All knew her story, but he wondered where the truth lay. Meeting the knight’s gaze, he studied the man.

‘Have you fallen under her spell as well as the others? Do you love your lady as her uncle did?’ There were even rumours about his own father and Eleanor but he would leave that unspoken now. ‘Do you share such scandalous nights as she did with him to warrant forcible custody by her rightful husband?’ he goaded.

The man moved so quickly that he rivalled Henry himself and surprised him. In only a few seconds Henry found this Godfroi of Poitiers confronting him, so close that he could feel the man’s exhalations on his face.

‘Spiteful stories spun and told to shame and humiliate her.’ He swore something truly insulting and yet inventive in Latin under his breath. ‘I thought better of you than this, Your Grace.’

The title spoken like another curse, Henry did not know whether to call for his guards or be ashamed.

‘The bishops have spoken of little else in their sermons from nearly every pulpit in France. Her shameful behaviour in Antioch that caused the Holy Crusade to fail and that caused God to curse her husband with only daughters.’ Henry watched as every word was like a blow to this warrior’s own honour. ‘Surely the shepherds of God’s church know the truth?’

‘They shepherd not God’s church, Your Grace. They see to their own aspirations and ambitions. Much as they do in your England.’ Henry smiled then and stepped back from Godfroi. He had the same concerns about the power of the church in the secular world.

‘And to what do you aspire, Godfroi of Poitiers? If you do not aspire to have the queen for your own, what benefit is overseeing these negotiations to you?’ Every man had his price and Henry sought to know this man’s since his part in this was crucial. ‘A title? Land? Why do you remain loyal to this woman when so many have abandoned her?’

‘I aspire to fulfil my sworn duty to my liege lady. That is all. I would see her placed with a husband strong enough to see to her dower lands and to her person.’

‘And your price?’

Godfroi sputtered then and turned away, a bold move for a knight in the presence of a duke and soon king of all England.

‘When I am content that her future is settled, I will enter the service of God.’

Henry was not easily surprised but this man had managed it. Giving up all worldly goods and taking vows of poverty, chastity and obedience were not what he would have expected to hear. ‘You are not an old man and yet you would give up the world and all its pleasures?’ Godfroi looked surprised by Henry’s question, but accepted it.

‘My wife died a few years ago, Your Grace, and I have no intention of remarrying. And, in spite of her first husband’s leanings, the duchess has given me permission to resign from her service and enter God’s.’

Henry did laugh then, both at this man’s manner and words, for he did not mince either and Henry would like such a man in his own service. Appeased by the answers and understanding that this knight would stand behind him and not between him and his lady, Henry nodded.

‘Make the arrangements. I will plead my own case to your duchess.’

Godfroi left the duke with his advisors and returned to Eleanor with the arrangements for his visit. He wondered as he told her of them whether this was a good idea or not.

He’d watched the previous marriage, one that had been questioned as to validity from its start, begin, flare and then crumble. His lady now had the opportunity that most women only dreamt of—to choose her husband—and he wanted to counsel her well. After meeting Henry, Duke of Normandy and Count of Anjou, Godfroi knew they would make a spectacular match.

Together they would claim huge areas and wealth and control more of France than their liege, King Louis. Once Henry made good on his efforts to claim England as his, and Godfroi did not doubt that he could and would, they would be a force to be reckoned with in all the world.

Godfroi smiled then, thinking of the woman Eleanor, and he knew that Henry would be a better match for the highly educated, intelligent, shrewd, worldly, passionate woman she was than Louis could ever hope to be. Oh, there would be problems—most likely loud and raucous problems—but there could be great passion… and love between these two.

He had no doubt that their names and the story of their lives together would carry down through generations and history; he just prayed he would survive it all.

Chapter Two

Eleanor sat in a simple chair and watched him enter the solar. A room decorated for comfort and pleasure to her own tastes, it did not have a dais or high throne as the great hall did. The women attending her embroidered or worked on tapestries and gave her command to ignore him a valiant if unsuccessful effort.

Accompanied only by Godfroi, he strode into this nest of women and walked about as though he already owned it. Arrogance filled every step, but at the same time, he wooed and won every woman there. He greeted each of them, bowing gallantly before them, asking their names and inquiring about their positions in her court. Only when he’d spoken to each of them did he turn his attentions to her.

She lost her breath at the intensity of his gaze on her!

Their last encounter had been in the midst of a formal court event and Louis had been at her side. Although she never missed the opportunity to appreciate male beauty, her behaviour that day had been the most circumspect of her life for the end of her marriage was under consideration and she’d do nothing to interfere with that. So, she’d watched him from beneath her lashes, noticing his strong warrior’s body and close-cropped curly reddish hair and shrewd grey eyes. More than that, he exuded a love of life like the one she kept hidden these past years.

His gown, though of expensive fabric, was plain and unadorned and he wore a short cloak over it as was his habit. Henry did not wear expensive jewels nor try to impress others with such accoutrements; he used the force of his will and his drive to take all that was his to capture others.

‘Your Grace,’ he said as he approached her. ‘It is kind of you to receive me.’

She wanted to laugh, for Godfroi had given her a rather colourful report about Henry’s actual response to her demands for this meeting. That he tried to be gracious, even if only in public, made her smile. Rising, she offered her hand to him. They would meet as equals, for other than her sex, they were equal in status… for now.

‘And you are gracious in attending me here, Your Grace,’ she said as he took her hand and kissed it. It would have been just like any other respectful gesture had he not paused and kissed not only the top of her hand but also the inside of her wrist.

She shivered, though his mouth heated that sensitive spot and Eleanor knew she let a soft gasp escape.

He looked at her without moving his mouth and the deliberate touch of his tongue on her skin made her body heat from within. No stranger to bed-play, Eleanor understood and felt this as the foreplay he meant it to be.

Bold. Sensual. Male. Challenging her to accept him.

Without breaking their gaze, she nodded and her women and Godfroi left quickly and quietly. And then they were truly alone.

Henry still held her hand in his and decided not to release it. He liked the way she’d gasped when he’d kissed her wrist. He liked the frank appraisal of her eyes as he’d entered the chamber, all the while appearing as though she ignored his presence. He especially liked the way her body blossomed beneath his mouth.

Since she was nigh on thirty, he thought to find a woman long-tired of the marriage bed, especially after spending the last score of years in the bed of a man who preferred praying to sexual play with his wife. But instead it pleased him immensely to find a woman whose appetite for life and all it offered equalled his own. Her beauty, sung about by troubadours and spoken about by bards across the land, was not an exaggeration. She retained the glow of youth, the one that drew men to her like bees to honey. When she pitched her voice lower and softer, his body reacted as though she slid her hand over his naked skin.

‘I thought to meet with you before negotiations proceeded any further, Your Grace,’ she murmured, allowing him to continue his intimate caress of her hand. He smiled then, inhaling the scent of roses she wore.

‘You wanted to inspect me to see if I was acceptable to the Duchess of Aquitaine.’ He dropped her hand and stepped away. ‘So, Your Grace, what say you? Do I meet your requirements?’

If he thought she would blush or act the demur maiden, he was mistaken. The bold caress of her gaze heated his blood; she looked on him as if he were some sweet prepared by the cook for only her pleasure. He wanted to peel off the carefully arranged garments she wore, loosen the floor-length braid of her golden hair and taste the sweetness she offered over and over until they could not move or breathe.

But what she did next surprised him, for it was a boldness he hoped for yet dared not dream could happen. It also confirmed that not all the stories he’d heard of the errant queen of the Franks were falsehoods. Eleanor crossed the distance between them, took hold of his shoulders and kissed him.

Her lips were soft against his and he stood motionless for a moment, savouring the feel of it. Then he reached up to cup the back of her head, causing the bejewelled circlet holding a gauzy veil in place to fall onto the floor. Henry took control then and kissed her back, opening his mouth and tasting her deeply. She pulled away for a moment and studied him, the tip of her tongue skimming over her bottom lip in a most enticing manner. When he thought she would end it, instead she leaned back into him and lifted her mouth to his once more.

His body reacted as he expected it would when faced with temptation such as this and he would have taken her there and then, save for the fact that it would most likely cause her to back out of negotiations completely. Capturing her and claiming her physically would only work as a strategy if he could do it outside her own city, as his brother and the others had so recently attempted. And even if they allowed this pleasurable interlude to seek its ultimate end with him planted deep within her warm flesh, it would not result in the marriage he wanted.

And something deep inside him wanted her to want this marriage and him as much as he did.

He could try to fool himself that it was only the lands and titles and power that made him want her, but watching her as queen and knowing how accomplished, learned and skilled she was and the personality she would bring to him as his wife, Henry knew he wanted her for much, much more. When their mouths touched and he felt her passion rising and her body soften against his hardness, he knew theirs could be a successful match and marriage.

Eleanor the queen had been impressive. Eleanor the duchess was desirable. But Eleanor the woman was irresistible!

Henry held her close and slid his hands around to her back, possessing her mouth and letting her taste of his desire for her. He wanted to touch more of her and began to caress the curve of her hip. Just when he would have moved his hand up, a loud knock came on the door and Eleanor jumped back, putting distance between them. A carefully planned move, he was certain, to allow her enough time but not allow him too much.

Well played, Eleanor!

Godfroi opened the door at her word and was the first to enter. As her women filed in, he admired her strategy even as he noticed that her lips were now swollen from their kisses. Before turning to face the others, she reached up a trembling hand and touched her mouth. Desire ripped through his blood and he wanted to kiss all of her until she quaked with pleasure under him. Feeling smug at the reaction he was able to provoke, Henry strode to the door confident that she would be his. But, as he bid her farewell, it took only a moment for her to take the matter back into her control.

As he leaned over to kiss her hand, determined this time for it to be the respectful gesture it should be, Henry heard her husky whispered words.

‘You will do, Your Grace.’

Henry met her gaze and let out his laughter, not stopping as he walked from her 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 that was not something that would also happen between them. The conversation continued with neither of them even questioning that a match between them would not occur.

‘We may spend much of our time moving between our holdings, especially when I am finally successful in claiming my birthright in England. Have you ever travelled there?’ he asked, guiding her to a bench while he stood, or rather paced, nearby.

‘Nay. Many other places but not across the Channel.’

And she had travelled far and well during her lifetime—as far as the Holy Land and through many countries and territories as they returned. Eleanor had seen many wonders, peoples and lands from the very exotic to the familiar. But she’d never gone north to England. As Henry’s wife, she would be expected to visit there and rule with him, once he attained the throne.

‘What is your favourite place in England?’ she asked, trying to learn more about this man she would marry. ‘Other than the battles, of which I have heard a little, when did you spend time there?’

She did something then that she did well—Eleanor listened. Her teachers had taught her that there was much to be learned in both the words chosen and the words left unspoken and now she watched as he became very excited, telling her about his time in England with his uncle, becoming a knight just two years past. He spoke of his teachers and his time in England as a child, spent with his mother’s half-brother, the Earl of Gloucester.

The Duke of Normandy was a passionate man—his plans to claim his birthright, his refusal to bow to the whims of Louis, indeed his willingness to take a path that many could and would call treason, and even just his interests in fighting and hunting and hawking, all spoke of his enthusiastic approach to everything in life. And the manner in which he constantly found ways and opportunities to touch her spoke of his passion of another sort.

When an hour or more had passed, Eleanor sat on a bench in a secluded alcove of the garden. Henry lay with his head on her lap, entwining his fingers with hers as they spoke. She laughed, more than once, at his impertinence and arrogance and she could not remember the last time she’d felt so very light-hearted or was filled with such anticipation about any event in her life.

Though Louis would remain her liege lord for her lands and titles in Aquitaine and Poitou, a marriage to Henry would return her to the same status, perhaps even higher, than her now-former husband and any new wife he might seek. Louis most likely did not wish to do so, though finding a new wife, begetting a male heir, was something his ministers and advisors, both religious and secular, would pursue vigorously. In order not to be shamed by this new social order, marriage to someone equal to or higher than Louis would be necessary.

Eleanor sighed then, realising the political efficiency of this proposed match bore more weight than she had first considered. Much as she’d like to think it could be about other matters or issues, it would not be. She was a woman of rank and privilege and as such would never be free from the responsibility to marry well.

‘That does not bode well for my suit,’ Henry said softly as he reached up and gently moved a few loosened strands of her hair out of her face. He turned his hand and caressed the exposed area of her cheek as he smiled. ‘Is there ought I can do to remove the frown from your brow, Eleanor?’

If she closed her eyes and listened only to the sound of his voice, she could almost believe they were simply a man and a woman. Her biggest concern lay in the most dramatic difference between the two men she would call husband—Henry’s appetites, for all things exciting, would bring her into a life very different from the one she had with prayerful Louis. She’d watched all of her life while sexual affairs changed the world around her and she suspected—nay, she knew—Henry would never be limited to one woman in his bed.

All she could hope for was his regard, his respect and possibly his love, even while she knew she would share his body with others.

‘I think you will break my heart, Henry.’ She shared her deepest fear. ‘I think you will break it often.’

Regret entered his grey gaze and Eleanor read the truth there—Henry knew their life would not be easy and that her fear would be realised. Men of power and status lived a certain life with perquisites and expectations. Women other than their legal wives were always part of that life. Though not a large problem as Louis’s wife, Eleanor understood that it would be a part of any marriage with Henry, especially as young and vigorous as he was. When he opened his mouth as though to speak against such accusations she placed her finger over his lips to stop him. Better not to make promises she knew could not be kept over time.

‘But we will manage this, will we not?’ she asked.

‘Better than manage,’ he whispered, and he guided her head down so he could touch his mouth to hers. ‘We will be spectacular together, Eleanor. Spectacular.’

The kiss that followed his words gave her hope of such things. He tangled his hands in her hair and one kiss led to another and another until she could think of nothing else but having this man as her husband.