Royal Weddings...Through the Ages. Elizabeth Rolls

long life of Eleanor (she died in her eighty-third year), who tried to hold it all together for her sons, their story was filled with all of the things that families deal with even now—love, betrayal, support, estrangement, restoration and competition.

      The fates of the Capets and the Plantagenets remained intertwined and connected for generations. In love or in war, theirs was a constant competition for control of lands and titles in what would become modern France.

      Though Eleanor is often demonised in the histories of the times, blamed for everything that ever went wrong in the life of Louis Capet, I cannot help but believe that history is not kind to extraordinary women who step outside the boundaries of society’s expectations of them. And I chose to see Henry as an enthusiastic young man, about to set out to pursue all of his dreams, in search of a woman who could be his equal. If he decided later that he did not want such a woman, we can’t blame her for it!

      As their marriage progressed, Henry and Eleanor produced eight (or possibly nine) children, sons and daughters who inherited various parts of their family empire or who were married off to strengthen bonds with other important and powerful families. Most readers tend to remember only two of them—Richard and John. Divided by contention and favouritism, Henry’s sons were never content and eventually saw almost all of their lands on the continent lost and only England remain under their control.

      But, at the beginning of it all, a marriage between an older woman and a younger man, a duchess and a duke, a count and a countess, began, I believe, with enthusiasm, anticipation and a bit of love. I hope you enjoyed the story of their royal wedding.

      For readers seeking more of the historical details about this time period and this particular marriage, let me suggest two of the books I use when writing in this time period: The Knight, the Lady and the Priest: The Making of Modern Marriage in Medieval France by Georges Duby, and Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings by Amy Kelly.

      Those readers familiar with my previous historical romances should recognise the man who facilitates the delicate negotiations between Henry and Eleanor—Godfroi. In The King’s Mistress, he is known as Godfrey and has indeed entered God’s service. By the time of that story, he is abbot of a large monastery in northern England and counsellor to the hero, Orrick of Silloth-on-Solway, as well as to an older but not much wiser Henry II of England. It was fun for me to go back and see how Godfroi helped in this marriage. He is, of course, a fictional character, created for these stories and not based on any real person, though I suspect there must have been someone like him who helped things along.

      Happy reading!

       Terri Brisbin

      Lionheart’s Bride

      Michelle Willingham

      About the Author

      MICHELLE WILLINGHAM grew up living in places all over the world. When her parents hauled her to antique shows, Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance. Currently she teaches American History and English, and lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. She still doesn’t have her broadsword. Visit her website at: www.michellewillingham.com or e-mail her at [email protected]

       Previous novels by Michelle Willingham:

HER IRISH WARRIOR* THE WARRIOR’S TOUCH* HER WARRIOR KING* HER WARRIOR SLAVE ^ THE ACCIDENTAL COUNTESS % THE ACCIDENTAL PRINCESS% TAMING HER IRISH WARRIOR * SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR *

      Also available in eBook format in Mills & Boon^® Historical Undone!:

      THE VIKING’S FORBIDDEN LOVE-SLAVE

       THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN

       AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION % INNOCENT IN THE HAREM PLEASURED BY THE VIKING

* The MacEgan Brothers

^ prequel to The MacEgan Brothers mini-series

% linked by character

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

       Prologue

       Pamplona, the Kingdom of Navarre, 1187

      ‘I didn’t know if you would come,’ Richard said, reaching for her hand. He had removed the chain-mail armour he’d worn earlier and wore a blue silk tunic trimmed with fur. His dark mantle rested over his shoulders, and even in the moonlight, Berengaria could see the cool grey of his eyes and the reddish glint of his hair.

      ‘What choice did I have?’ she accused. ‘You stole my ring at the tournament when you kissed my hand.’ Holding out her palm, she sent him a warning look. ‘I want it back.’

      ‘I wanted an excuse to see you again.’ He sent her a slow smile that quickened her pulse. Opening his hand, he revealed the emerald and gold ring. ‘Is this what you want?’

      When she tried to seize it, he curled his fingers over his palm. ‘Come closer, and you shall have it.’

      ‘Do not play games, Your Grace. I’ve no interest in them.’

      ‘If that were true, you wouldn’t have come. You’d have sent a servant for the ring.’

      ‘And you’d have refused to return it.’

      He drew closer, pressing the ring into her hands. ‘Do you think me such a villain?’

      ‘I don’t know who you are.’ Though her hands were gloved, she could feel the heat of his skin. Something about this man intrigued her, slipping past her defences like the warrior he was.

      Don’t stay, Berengaria warned herself. Leave now. Her father, King Sancho, would be furious if she knew she was standing in the garden with the Duke of Aquitaine, the son of King Henry Plantagenet of England.

      ‘I want to know you,’ Richard said slowly. ‘No woman has ever dared to speak to me in the way that you do.’

      ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘You aren’t my betrothed husband and never will be.’

      ‘You’re right.’ His hand moved up to her cheek, and when she tried to move away, he held her in place. ‘Berengaria, you remind me of Eve. You tempt me with the tartness of your tongue. The flashing of your dark eyes.’

      She shivered slightly, and her mind warned her again to move away. But his voice held her captive, while his thumb edged her cheekbone. ‘I admire your spirit.’

      Richard tipped her face up to look at him. Then he leaned in closer, resting his forehead against hers. ‘You should know that this is your last chance to walk away untouched. If you stay, I’m going to claim a kiss.’ He released her and stood motionless, waiting for her decision.

      Her mind cried out for her to flee, even as her feet remained rooted in place. Richard was not a man who was free to court her. He was already