Royal Weddings...Through the Ages. Elizabeth Rolls

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