Panting, he withdrew from her and kissed her gently. ‘I do not think we shall have any difficulties in the matter of the bedchamber,’ he said with a chuckle.
Rising on her elbow, she leaned over to kiss his shoulder. ‘No,’ she agreed. He was sensual and comfortable with his body – totally unlike Louis. Making love with Henry she had become a woman again, and she knew if she thought about it too hard, she might cry, which would not be a good thing to do in front of him. She had to be an equal partner.
Leaving the bed, Henry prowled the chamber like a dog examining new territory. His hair gleamed in the candlelight as he picked a date off a silver tray and ate it while studying a wall hanging that depicted a hawking scene.
‘This chamber belonged to my grandmother,’ she said, stretching. ‘I remember her holding court here when I was a small child.’
‘I have heard tell of her and your grandsire.’ He looked round with an amused glint in his eyes. ‘Was she really named Dangereuse?’
‘Who has not heard of them?’ Alienor shrugged. ‘Scandal followed them both as closely as their shadows. She left her husband for him, and they lived for their passion, but it was so strong it was almost a sickness.’
She slipped a blanket around her shoulders and went to pour wine into a single cup. Mention of her grandmother made her think of Petronella, who was just like Dangereuse. It wasn’t good to feel that obsessively about anything.
‘It was my grandsire’s name for her, and she always used it when I knew her, but her real name was Amaberge.’
‘Why the nickname?’
‘Because she was unpredictable and wild. She and my grandsire were passionate about each other beyond reason – truly it was a kind of madness. But as girls we loved the music and dancing in her chamber. We loved to hear her stories and to be swept along when she was in a good mood, but we were afraid of her too – of the darkness inside her.’
Henry looked thoughtful but said nothing.
‘My grandsire built this tower as a range of domestic apartments, but this room was always hers. My other grandmother retired to the abbey at Fontevraud.’
‘My aunt is abbess there,’ he said. ‘My father’s sister, Mathilde. And my sister Emma lives there in the secular house of women.’
‘Your sister?’
‘Half-sister. She and Hamelin share the same mother and my aunt has mostly had the raising of her.’
‘Is she going to take vows?’
Henry shook his head. ‘Not unless she has developed a sudden vocation. I would ask you the favour of visiting Fontevraud while I am in England.’
‘Of course.’
‘And I would also ask you to consider taking Emma into your household as one of your ladies. She is amenable and her stitchwork is superb. I think you and she will do well together.’
‘As you wish,’ Alienor said, feeling intrigued. It would be interesting to meet Henry’s aunt and half-sister, and it was one of her duties as Henry’s wife to foster ties with his kin and sponsor positions for them as appropriate.
‘I do wish, thank you.’ He drank the wine and taking another stuffed date, fed it to her. She licked his fingers with a delicate tongue to remove the stickiness. He put his hands in her hair and kissed her, and once more he was hard with arousal. Picking her up, he carried her back to bed.
The second time was slower than the first, but more intense. Henry was almost sobbing as he reached completion and Alienor gripped him for dear life, feeling as if she was being drawn through the heart of a thunderstorm. This time when their bodies parted, he pulled her close and set his arm across her and in moments was asleep.
The warmth of his body and his strong arms around her made her feel secure and protected for the first time since her girlhood. In the early days, Louis had clung to her out of his own need and with Geoffrey she had never had a chance to lie like this; but Henry was confident in his own body, they were man and wife, and she no longer had to be afraid.
Henry woke up in the early morning feeling pleased and full in the heart. The shutters were open and white southern light streamed through the window. The bed curtains were open as they had left them last night and he was lying curled up close to his bride. She was breathing quietly, her golden hair spread on the pillow. He lifted himself up to look at her. The deed was done. Aquitaine was his and so was its beautiful duchess. Their union was better than he had expected it to be. She had known how to pleasure him, and had derived great pleasure herself. Despite not being a virgin, she had still felt as tight as one. And the smoothness of her arms and those long, cool fingers … He loved the delicate pale skin of her throat; the little place just under her ear; the perfect angles of her brow and cheek and jaw. There was nothing he would change. He ran his hand lightly along her arm from shoulder to hand, admiring the pale silkiness of her skin, and remembered what his father had said about her – that he should beware of her and always make sure he had the upper hand. Well and good. He would make sure by whatever means at his disposal that he kept her full cooperation and loyalty.
Alienor sleepily opened her eyes and smiled at him. Henry withdrew, slightly uneasy to be caught looking. Even with what they had shared, they were still strangers, and she was not one of the regular women of the camp with whom he could josh and tumble in the daylight. Sitting up, he began to dress.
She watched him while gathering her hair in a golden sheaf over one shoulder. ‘There is no hurry today.’
Henry shook his head. ‘I have matters to sort out with my men and much to do. I will see you later – we will ride out together.’ He kissed her on the lips and on the cheek, and was gone.
Frowning, Alienor leaned back against the pillows. Henry was clearly not a man for leisurely bed-talk. If he was awake, he had to be in motion, and she would have to adapt herself because in this case it would certainly be easier than training him to slow down. She admired all that vigour and energy, but she did wish he had lingered a little. She had woken in the night and enjoyed the feel of him next to her. All that golden strength. She had to get to know him properly now, and he her, but acknowledged it would not happen until he had dealt with the matter of England.
Later in the day they went riding as he had said, and Henry carried his new gyrfalcon Isabella on his wrist. Alienor kept La Reina in the mews so that Henry could concentrate on the pleasure of his hawk without competition. He proved an adept handler of the bird and she flew for him in strength and beauty and fierceness. He laughed with joy as he watched her soar and dip. She caught several rock doves, and then a plump cock pheasant. Grinning broadly, Henry tucked one of the tail feathers in his cap. Watching him sent a pang through Alienor’s heart. He was so alive. A man full of himself to the point of brimming over, but in confidence, not conceit.
They stopped to picnic by a stream and Henry gave Isabella to an attendant, who fastened her to a perch.
Alienor handed her new husband a cup of wine to wash down the bread and cheese he was devouring with appetite. ‘So now that we have helped ourselves to a marriage,’ she said, ‘what are we going to do about Louis?’
He swallowed and looked at her, his grey eyes bright with question. ‘Why should we do anything?’
‘By rights as tenants-in-chief we should have asked his permission before we wed.’
He snorted. ‘That was never likely.’
‘No, but now he has the right to turn on us and bring sanctions – perhaps even military ones.’
Henry shrugged. ‘If he does, he will not catch me sleeping, because I never sleep.’
‘You cannot be in three places at once.’
‘You think not?’ He looked amused. ‘A Roman tactician Vegetius said that courage is worth more than numbers and speed is worth more than courage. My army stands at Barfleur, but I can mobilise fast if I have to, and change my direction. I have better men around me than Louis does, and I can control mine. In my camp, the rider is on the horse, not the other way around. I knew the risks,’ he said, ‘and I still took them, because the rewards far outweighed the perils.’ He gave her a look, his gaze smouldering and predatory. ‘Would you not agree, madam?’