His wary look darkened to a frown when there knelt before him Hugh de Lusignan and Guy of Thouars, swarthy-skinned and black-haired, two of the most volatile of her vassals, whose notorious reputation was enough to send any overlord reaching for his sword; but they were on their best behavior today, and observing the courtesies in deference to the duchess’s presence. She knew, though—for Louis had had enough cause to grumble about it—that these men paid only lip service to their allegiance, and that their allegiance to her would go flying out of the window if it ever came between them and some land or fortress they coveted. And by the look on Henry’s face, as he bade Hugh and Guy rise and be merry, he needed no warning of their perfidy.
Last, but by no means least, there came the staunch Saldebreuil of Sanzay, Constable of Aquitaine, whom she had appointed her seneschal in reward for his loyalty and staunch service. Henry smiled at him and slapped him heartily on the shoulder as the good man bent to receive the kiss of greeting.
Eleanor was pleased to see Henry playing his part to perfection, doing his best to win over her lords by deferring to this one’s wisdom and experience, or praising that one’s renowned prowess in the field of battle or the tourney lists. She was amazed at his store of knowledge, especially of her domains. He had gone to a great deal of trouble to make himself accepted here. And most of them were responding in the proper manner and saying all the right things. It was the most promising of beginnings.
Later, after the last vassal went back to his place and wine had been served, Eleanor led Henry and her courtiers into the gardens, where they could relax in the warm sunshine in the shade of apple and peach trees. As the nobles rested on turf benches and talked of politics and warfare, young gallants sought out the duchess’s damsels and sang songs to them, their eyes bright with the expectation of favors to come later, when the velvet summer night had stolen over the land.
Henry walked with Eleanor beside a flower-filled lawn enclosed by low trellises.
“Tell me, do you miss being a queen?” he inquired, taking her hand.
“Need you ask?” Eleanor countered. “What I have now”—she waved her hand to indicate her throne, her lords, and her surroundings, then looked him directly in the face—“more than compensates.”
“I will make it up to you a thousandfold,” Henry promised. “I will make you Queen of England, the greatest queen that godforsaken land has ever known, I swear it. And then I will make you the sovereign lady of half Europe!”
“I have all my faith in you,” Eleanor told him, caught up in the heady excitement of this imperial vision, and exulting at the prospect of the glorious future, when all their hopes and ambitions would, God willing, be realized.
“Think of it,” Henry enthused, visibly elated. “When England is mine, all Christendom from the Scottish border down to the Pyrenees will be under my hand! Louis will be raging with envy, but there will be nothing he can do about it. Our domains will dwarf his beggarly royal demesne.”
“Greatness and power,” Henry was saying, “lie in land and a ruler’s strength. Louis has neither.”
“Yet he is still our overlord,” she reminded him.
“So the fiction goes!” Henry grinned.
Eleanor smiled. “I should be scandalized.”
“Oh, I am sure you are! But remember, my dear love, you are marrying into the Devil’s own family. Do not expect us Angevins to be virtuous.”
“How could I, when your brother Geoffrey tried to abduct me on the way down here?”
“What?” Henry almost roared. “That little rabbit? I’ll cut his balls off.”
Eleanor could not suppress a giggle. “Surely you of all people don’t blame him for being an opportunist, my lord?”
“It’s a family trait,” Henry muttered.
“Does our marriage find favor with your Norman lords?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes, and with those of Anjou and Maine. They know it will bring prestige to my domains, and trade too. They are all agog to see you. I sang your praises, never fear.”
“And your mother, the Empress?” Eleanor had heard a lot about the formidable Matilda.
“She is content,” Henry said shortly, with little conviction. “She thinks it makes sound political sense for us to marry. And you will charm her, I am sure.”
“I look forward to meeting her,” Eleanor replied politely, with equally scant conviction. She wondered if Matilda was aware that her soon-to-be daughter-in-law had made the two-backed beast with her husband Geoffrey.
“I didn’t come here to talk about my mother, you know.” Henry grinned. “I’d rather discuss our immediate plans.” He lowered his voice to a seductive murmur. “Will you bed with me tonight?”
Eleanor smiled at him, her eyes dark with desire. “It is what I have been waiting for.”
——
Henry withdrew from Eleanor and, panting heavily, rolled back on his side, his hand trembling as it sensuously traced the arching curve of her waist, hip, and thigh. His eyes held hers, warm in the flickering candlelight. He bent forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I have dreamed of this,” he said breathlessly, “through all those dreadful months of waiting. God, I hated having to wait. You have been in my heart and in my loins. I ached for you.”
“Did you ever have doubts?” Eleanor asked, resting her cheek against the curling hair that crested his broad chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his skin.
“Not for a moment. Did you?”
“I did wonder if I had dreamed some of it,” she murmured. “It was so unbelievable, what happened between us.”
“In the future, troubadours will sing of us and our love,” Henry predicted. Eleanor thrilled once more to hear him speak of love. She raised herself up on one elbow, her nipples teasing his ribs.
“They certainly will!” She laughed. “Is it not quite shocking for a husband and wife to love each other? Marriage, according to our poets, sounds the death knell to love.”
“It will not be so with us,” Henry vowed firmly.
“How could it be?” Eleanor rejoined, leaning over to kiss him, and trailing her hair all over his body. Then she lay down on her side, gazing again into his eyes.
“This is bliss after bedding Louis,” she told him. “I always had to beg him to make love to me, if only to get an heir, and then he was down on his knees praying both before and after he had done the dread deed. I feel as if I have come alive. I am free of all that! Oh, the joy of it!” She kissed Henry ardently, her tongue darting mischievously into his mouth. “In France, I was not free. They didn’t want me interfering, as they called it, in their politics. I was relegated to playing chess with my ladies, or embroidery, or telling riddles, for God’s sake. I have a brain, but they wouldn’t let me use it. Tell me that we won’t have a conventional marriage, Henry. I couldn’t bear that.”
“How could we?” he replied lazily. “We are not conventional people.”
“You are aware that I am giving up my newfound freedom to marry you,” Eleanor ventured. “I hope you won’t forget that I am sovereign Duchess of Aquitaine, even though you have the right to rule here as my husband? And to rule me—if I let you.” Her smile was full of mischief.
Henry concealed his surprise at her words and regarded her wickedly. “That is any husband’s right, as well you know! Once we’re married, my fine beauty, I might shut you up in a tower or beat you if you prove to be disagreeable or deny me your bed!”
“Then I’ll not go through with it!” Eleanor threatened, giggling. “I’ll be your mistress instead. You won’t get an inch of my domains!” For answer, Henry began tickling her until she squealed for mercy. Then he pinioned her down and kissed her hungrily.
“At this moment, I wouldn’t really care, so long as I can have you,” he muttered. “Louis was mad to spurn you, or let you go,” he went on hoarsely, mounting her a second time, his purpose clearly urgent. “But his loss is my
