Beloved Enemy (31 page)

Eleanor’s hazel eyes, enormous under the dark arches of her brows, seemed to be making him some mute appeal. He wanted to respond but not knowing how shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

“My lord—Henry,” she said in a tentative voice. “You see before you a woman who is no longer a maid, yet neither spouse nor widow. A woman who will soon be without protection, for according to the terms of the marriage contract, Aquitaine remains mine. You know what that means? Once news of the annulment spreads, I will be at the mercy of every ravening beast who seeks my inheritance.”

Henry had heard—as who had not—of Eleanor’s tumultuous marital troubles. But he had never imagined the strong-minded queen as being alone and unprotected. His heart swelled and his breath almost suffocated him.

“Madam,” he began earnestly, “I had no idea you were in such straits. It would give me the greatest pleasure—that is to say—I will do all in my power to aid you.”

“Few know the extent of my plight,” she said with a sad smile, laying slim white fingers on his freckled hand, the palms hardened by his horse’s reins, the backs pitted from the sharp beaks of his falcons.

“How may I serve you?” he asked.

She was silent for a moment, her head bent, the tips of her fingers idly stroking the back of his hand, causing Henry the most acute sensations.

“When you see Louis, I want you to agree to the treaty he desires. Give France the Vexin and let Louis acknowledge you as duke of Normandy.”

Henry was astounded. Instantly suspicious, he withdrew his hand. What sort of double game was this minx playing at? Was Louis behind it? “I fail to see how this would serve you, Madam. I have no wish to lose the Vexin.”

Eleanor lifted her eyes to his. “Not even in exchange for Aquitaine?”

Dumbfounded, Henry felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of him. Had he heard her aright? “Aquitaine?” he echoed lamely. “I mean—I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” she said in a soft voice. “I think you understand very well. I’m offering you the opportunity to marry me and become the next duke of Aquitaine—once the annulment is rendered final. If my situation were not so desperate, if haste were not paramount, I would never have approached you in this unseemly way.”

Henry’s first thought was what would his mother say; the enormity of the gift Eleanor offered was staggering. Duke of Aquitaine and count of Poitou—all the resources he would need to invade England. And she needed him. This legendary beauty, whose prestige and influence were famous throughout Europe, had asked for his protection! He gazed into her eyes, which, to his amazement were unnaturally bright, almost fearful. Her face had the bloomy sheen of a summer wildflower; her moist lips were parted.

Henry tried to speak but the words would not come. The blood pounded in his head as he found himself prey to an emotional upheaval he had not anticipated. Without warning, he had the sudden urge to devote himself to those luminous eyes, that beckoning mouth, to pledge his body and heart to this radiant queen who had stepped down from her pedestal and offered herself to him. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. How desperately he longed to express his feelings but could not. Inwardly he cursed himself, for the first time wishing he had the gift of gallantry, the golden tongue of a troubadour, the easy charm of his father.

“I have humbled myself before you,” Eleanor said with a catch in her voice. “Was it a mistake? Could I have so misjudged you?”

All Henry could do was vehemently shake his head. “But why me?” His voice sounded gruff and he wondered why he was unwilling to let her see how deeply her words had affected him.

“I need a knight of rank and power. A man of strength and judgment. The fact that we are neighbors—the borders of Anjou and Poitou march side by side—is significant. One day you will be king of England. You have all the necessary qualifications, my lord, to become my protector.”

“Your confidence is much appreciated but at the moment I’m merely duke of Normandy. My father is very much alive and I’m a long way from being king of England.”

“With my help—the resources I can put at your disposal—you will certainly be closer to your goal. Did that thought not occur to you?”

“It crossed my mind, yes,” Henry admitted slowly.

Eleanor smiled. “Thank you for your honesty.”

To Henry’s surprise she suddenly blushed. “And there are other reasons why I chose you. Reasons that I think you already know. My heart tells me we will suit one another.”

They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. Slowly Henry bent his head and kissed her half-open mouth. He was overcome by a burning desire, a wild elation mingled with a rough urgency to take her here and now. This was his usual way with the serving girls, tavern wenches, and compliant wives he bedded. But he held back, reminding himself that he was kissing the queen of France, holding the duchy of Aquitaine in his arms. Then all thought was lost as the kiss grew deeper and deeper, plunging Henry into a whirlpool of excitement he had never before experienced.

Eleanor was the first to break away, pushing him back with trembling hands. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body shivered as if assailed by a strong wind. He knew that she was fighting the desire to abandon herself to his ardor and this inspired him with great respect. Control in a woman was a unique quality. His mother’s cool head was one of the things he most admired about her.

“Can Louis be such a fool as to have denied you marital joys?” Henry barely recognized the thick, husky voice as his own. Unable to stop himself he ran his hand over one uptilted breast. The nipple jutted out hard against his palm. “I’ve wanted to do that since last night.” He dropped his hand.

With a shuddering sigh, Eleanor picked up her goblet of wine and curled both hands tightly round the stem. “Have we made a bargain then?” The unmistakable tremor in her voice was very satisfying. “You keep Aquitaine from the wolves and I will see to it you have the resources to take England.”

“Agreed. But why must I give Louis the Vexin?”

“Because he must not suspect what we have in mind. Let him think he has beaten you. Disarmed, he will honor you as his vassal, duke of Normandy, the annulment will proceed without hindrance, and none will guess our intention until it is too late. Later, when we are wed and England is won, we will find a way to get the Vexin back.”

Henry stared at her, impressed that she seemed to have thought the whole matter through. “But even when Louis is no longer your husband, the king of France is still your overlord in your capacity as duchess of Aquitaine. You may not marry without his consent.”

“Once the fact of our marriage is accomplished what can he do? Louis’s bark is loud but his teeth are weak. Trust me to know what I’m doing. This plan will work, but be discreet. Do not discuss the matter unless absolutely necessary.”

Henry nodded. He had a hundred questions but there was a brisk knock on the door and the same servant poked his head inside the chamber.

“The king is asking for Duke Henry, Madam.”

“He is just coming.” Eleanor rose.

The door closed. Henry got to his feet. It was the most momentous occasion of his eighteen years and he felt inept, in awe of this impetuous woman whom he had just agreed to wed. All he wanted to do was to take her in his arms, but she was looking at him expectantly now, obviously waiting for him to—to what?

He drew himself up, relieved that he was at least half a head taller than Eleanor. “Madam, I’m only a plain-spoken Norman but my sword will always be ready to defend you. Your honor I will guard with my life, and—and your foes will be mine.”

She smiled. “A brave speech, worthy of the most silver-tongued courtier. We will do very well together.”

Determined to present a chivalrous image, Henry awkwardly knelt before her. He intended to kiss her hand but somehow managed to brush his forehead against the gold filigree of her girdle instead. The next thing he knew he was outside the chamber, wiping the sweat from his brow.

His head reeling, Henry walked down the passage on the heels of the servant. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, spun round on his toes and gave a great whoop of joy. The queen of France was to be his wife! And England—his birthright, his dream, his life’s goal—was virtually within his grasp!

G
EOFFREY WAS WAITING AT
the entrance to the great hall. From his rigid stance and fixed smile Henry knew there would be rough weather ahead.

“Where have you been? I’ve looked everywhere for you.” The count searched Henry’s face. “Well, never mind that now. Listen carefully, I’ve thought the matter over and I think you must give up the Vexin with good grace. The most important thing is for you to be officially acknowledged as Normandy’s duke. I hope you’re going to be reasonable about this.”

Henry smiled. “Very reasonable. In fact I agree with you.”

“You do?” Geoffrey looked taken aback. “I expected a battle on my hands. What has occasioned this change of heart?”

“God’s eyes, I cannot win. On the one hand you urge me to be reasonable, then when I am you find fault with that.”

Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been with Eleanor. She’s behind this change, isn’t she?”

“Does it matter?”

The steward approached them. “My lords, King Louis is just hearing a dispute between two vassals. The case will be over in a moment. Please wait.”

Geoffrey gave the man an icy smile. “Of course.” He led Henry toward the open doors of the keep where rays of sunshine covered the rushes like a carpet of gold dust. Other lords, also waiting to see the French king, milled about in groups, eyeing the two Normans with speculation.

“Have you made a cuckold of your overlord?” Geoffrey’s voice came out in an explosive hiss.

“Have
you?
I believe we’ve had this conversation before.”

Geoffrey’s fists clenched, and for a moment Henry thought he would strike him again. Not certain now he wanted to hear the answer, he held up his hands.

“Peace. Peace. I’ve no wish to quarrel with you, my lord.” Henry ran tense fingers through his hair. “On the contrary, I badly need your support now.”

“When have you not needed it?”

Henry took a deep breath. God’s eyes, this was going to be even worse than he had imagined.

“What trouble have you managed to stir up this time?” Geoffrey’s gaze bored into his.

“No trouble. Look, the situation is thus—”

“Ah, now, at last, we come to the truth.”

“Once Eleanor’s marriage is annulled, she and I will wed in secret,” Henry said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “As duke of Aquitaine I will have all the resources I need to take England. Do I have your blessing in this affair?”

Geoffrey’s eyes blazed in a face suddenly devoid of all color. His mouth worked and he rocked backward, as if unsteady on his feet. It was with great difficulty that Henry restrained himself from reaching out a hand to aid him. After a few moments he saw Geoffrey make a visible effort to bring himself under control.

“Well, you’ve not been idle,” he said in a tight voice. “How long have you known this woman you intend to marry? A day and a half? I suspected Eleanor might soon be seeking a husband to help govern her unruly domains, but little did I dream the honor would fall to my own son. You hardly need my blessing, having managed so well on your own.”

“Still, I would have it.”

“It is a match far above anything I could have arranged for you,” Geoffrey continued, as if Henry had not spoken. “Your mother may be a trifle upset—at first—but she will come to realize the great advantages to be gained.” He paused, and after swallowing several times, added: “As do I. After all, you, your mother, and I are all slaves of ambition, are we not?” His lips stretched over his teeth in a ghastly semblance of a smile.

“There’s rather more to it than that,” Henry began, then stopped. Despite his efforts to conceal it, Geoffrey still appeared so shaken Henry could not bring himself to throw more wood onto an already raging fire.

In his way Henry not only respected but loved his cool and handsome father; the fact that he was behaving more like a rival than a son troubled his conscience. It was equally troubling that he still could not tell, for certain, the exact nature of Geoffrey’s relationship with Eleanor. She denied having bedded him; Geoffrey was evasive. Where did the truth lie?

“Thank you, my lord,” Henry said in a low voice. “Your goodwill is important to me in this matter.”

“You have always proceeded with or without my goodwill, my son,” Geoffrey replied, “and success crowns all your endeavors regardless.”

Henry wondered what he could do to bridge the gap, growing wider by the instant, that separated him from his father. “Do you—do you have any advice for me?” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

Geoffrey raised his brows. “Are you serious?”

Henry flushed but nodded. Geoffrey appeared in control now but there were unaccustomed beads of sweat at the corner of each temple. It was evident he was keeping himself under a tight rein.

Hands behind his back, Geoffrey began to stride back and forth before the open doors, Henry beside him. “What can I tell you? That you will have as wife a woman whom, having once seen her, every man will long to possess? But you must already be aware of that.”

“What is the harm so long as she is a dutiful wife?”

“I have known Eleanor many years. She is a woman not easy to please, yet please her you must, or you will suffer the consequences. There is little love lost between Louis and myself, yet one cannot help feeling sorry for him. He has always been obsessed with his wife and to let her go will not be easy for him.”

“What has that to do with me?” Henry raised his brows. “Louis has brought this state of affairs upon himself. In any case it is the loss of Aquitaine that no doubt weighs so heavily upon him.”

Geoffrey gave a short laugh. “So you said the day we arrived, as I recall. You, of course, are totally indifferent to possession of the duchy, yes? Who was it just told me he now had all the resources to invade England?” He stopped a moment to scrutinize Henry’s face. “You have won Louis’s wife and the wealthiest fief in his domains. Can you not spare any compassion for a man no longer in his first youth who will now lose what he values most?”