Devil's Consort (92 page)

‘I wondered if you might be reluctant. And thought this might persuade you,’ he said suddenly. Henry fished in the leather purse strapped to his belt to lift out a gold collar set with opals. Dangling it from one finger so that the light caught and gleamed on the strange stones, he regarded me speculatively. ‘What woman can refuse a jewel?’

‘From the neck of the magnificent Melusine, I suppose.’

‘Clever girl! Where else? The fleeing Melusine left her cloak and her fortune on the floor of the church.’

‘And you carried so priceless a family heirloom all this way through Normandy and Anjou on an attack and abduction?’

‘It was in no danger. I was not about to fail, was I?’

As before, his self-assurance took my breath. As did the touch of his hand on mine as he took hold and rubbed his thumb over my palm, a strange little soothing gesture. My heart leapt. Why could it not be still?

‘Do you still have the cloak?’ I asked inconsequentially, pleased with my ability to sound disingenuous.

‘I’m afraid I don’t. The moth will have its way.’ A smile of great charm lit his features. ‘But this bauble has been kept safely—although not many of the Angevin women have chosen to wear it. It is not to everyone’s taste.’

No. I could well imagine that. It was a true collar of a
Byzantine pattern such as I had seen in Constantinople: heavy, solid with interlaced ropes of gold and flat plaques. The opals too lay flat, surrounded by pearls. It would require a woman of some stature to show it to its best advantage. And a brave one to wear opals. A stone of ill-omen to many, they were feared and shunned. I smiled. I would not fear them.

Walking behind me, Henry placed the collar around my neck, latching the fastener. Allowing his fingers to drift along my skin. The gold lay cold and inert at first, then warmed and rested intimately along my collarbone, over my shoulder and breast.

‘Well, lady? I’d say it was made for you.’ Still standing behind me, his hands cupped my shoulders and his lips grazed my nape above the clasp. I had been right. He was as tall as I, perhaps a little taller. ‘Does it persuade you?’

‘It might.’ My tone remained light but my cheeks burned even hotter.

But it was not the opals or the gold that drew me. Or the fanciful tale. Rather it was his touch. The gleam of his eyes, as beguiling as the strange mystical gems. I could feel every print of his fingers, the heat from his large, capable hands through the stuff of my robe. My blood was as hot as fire.

‘When will we wed?’ I asked.

‘When I’ve the time.’

Hardly flattering. But practical, I supposed. I knew
in that moment that as Henry’s wife I must accept that I would not always come first with him.

‘What’s wrong?’ His lips pressed and slid along the side of my throat to my ear. ‘Something else? How can a sensible woman find so many difficulties where they don’t exist?’

‘I don’t know.’ Nor did I. Female perversity, I supposed. ‘Do you desire me?’

‘I’ll protect you, you know.’

‘Is that all? Do you have any feeling for me? For me as a woman?’

‘I’ll use your money and your power.’ I felt the sardonic curve of his mouth, until it was replaced by the nip of his teeth as he bent to caress my neck again.

‘I know you will.’

‘But I’ll give you an empire.’

‘Hmm.’ His tongue slid along my shoulder to the edge of my gown. My eyes closed. ‘I will like an empire.’

‘I know you will.’ His teeth nipped again. ‘I want you, you know.’

Ah … ‘You want me?’

‘Yes.’

Not good enough. Suddenly, swift as an arrow, I wanted more than that. I tipped my head to look back at him but all I could see was the dense growth of his hair as he concentrated on my collar bone. I closed my eyes in pleasure but still found the voice to ask, ‘Is this a statement of lust and possession, Henry?’

There was no hesitation. ‘I’ll love you, of course.’

My eyes snapped open. ‘Love me?’

‘Yes. Did you think I would not?’

Slowly he turned me so that I faced him and I could see myself reflected in his eyes. I did not doubt his words for one moment. In his own way he would love me, and it would be an impatient, restless way—but still it was love. An answering beat struck in my chest as I acknowledged that I would love him too—in mine. We would not always be at one in our future together but the connection between us was strong. Too strong, perhaps, for comfort.

I held my breath. Was that what I was afraid of? The uncontrollable longing to belong to him on whatever terms he handed out? If I loved him, I would have to fit with the pattern that Henry demanded in our life together. Could I accept that? I did not think I had a choice.

‘Wed me, Eleanor.’

There it was. No soft request but a demand.

I breathed out slowly, balanced on the edge of prevarication. I smiled and he knew my mind.

‘Good girl! It’s all decided.’ Henry’s face was suddenly full of light. ‘Does it appeal, my beautiful Eleanor? To be Devil’s Consort? After Pious Louis?’

‘It’s an interesting proposition.’ Automatically I raised a hand to touch his cheek, as if I had been doing it all my life.

And the grin was gone. Henry caught my wrist in
his hand. ‘By God, Eleanor—I’m as hard as a rock.’ Without thought of the discomfort of his mail, he crushed me to him, lifting me to my toes, leaving me in no doubt of his need. ‘I’d better go. You’ll wed me when I return. And I’ll not leave you a second time without a promise of my intent. I’ve shown remarkable control so far. No more, my magnificent Duchess of Aquitaine!’

He kissed me, mouth on mouth, a kiss of passion for the first time. Firm and cool, his lips were assured, parting mine so that tongue touched tongue. How astonishingly like the man that kiss was. Forthright, possessive, a statement of fact. I belonged to him now.

‘Don’t start to think of excuses as soon as I’ve ridden out of your gate!’ he admonished, raising his head and dropping me back on my feet. ‘You know I won’t take no for an answer.’

I was afraid I did know. His lips seduced like the Devil for sure.

Yes, I would be Devil’s Consort.

I saw him out into the courtyard, where his men were already mounted, disappointed that he must leave so soon but not prepared to beg him to stay. If he had business that took precedence, then so be it. I looked up into the vivid face when he had swung up into the saddle, and knew there was one subject we had not touched on and that I should raise, reluctantly, but it could not be left unsaid. I did not think Henry would
damn me for my honesty in this. I took hold of his rein above the bit, holding his stallion still, although with care for my toes.

‘Did your father know of your plans to wed me?’ I asked abruptly.

‘Yes. I told him. That’s why he gave up the Vexin. Snarling his objections but accepting my argument in the end.’

As I had thought. ‘I just wondered …’

‘I know what you’re wondering.’ He stretched out his still ungloved fingers to touch my cheek, an unexpectedly tender gesture. I arched a brow, trying to read his face but failing, so his reply shook me. ‘My father told me I shouldn’t wed you—because his own relationship with you had been. God’s wounds! Why be mealy-mouthed? Because you’d shared his bed. Or he’d shared yours, since it was here in your castle.’

‘Oh.’ So there it was, out in the open. ‘Did you believe him?’

‘Yes. I have always known.’

Ah! I felt the blood heat in my cheeks. ‘Does it matter to you?’

‘No. I don’t see my father as a rival for your affections. If our past lovers are to step between us, Eleanor, you’ll have a whole crowd of them from my side to tolerate. I’ve taken no vow of chastity.’

The stallion’s restless sidestepping gave me respite from finding a reply.

‘Did you love him?’ Henry asked conversationally.

‘No.’

‘Did he seduce you?’

‘Not that either. I went to his bed willingly.’

‘I suppose you had your reasons. Any woman wed to Louis would have reasons to take solace elsewhere. Now he’s dead—and you’re promised to me.’ His eyes bored into mine. ‘Since we’re stripping each other naked … there were other rumours, Eleanor—from Outremer. From Antioch.’

Of course he would have heard them. My throat closed on any possible words of explanation, resentful that I should have to explain about Raymond, unwilling to destroy the fragile relationship between me and the Angevin.

‘My enemies enjoyed the opportunity to embroider every move I made,’ I managed.

‘Rumours have a distressing tendency to spread and contaminate, like the stench of bad meat,’ Henry said, his tone as a dry and arid as Aquitaine in high summer, as if he had not even registered my hesitation. ‘I’ll not ask you again about Antioch, Eleanor. It is in the past and is of no importance to me. Neither, I think, to you.’

My throat eased in relief.

‘But now you’re mine,’ he added. ‘And don’t forget it.

Henry gathered up his reins. What a complex man he was. Sharp and brusque, it was not the parting of a lover—but, of course, we were not lovers. I would have
stepped away but abruptly he closed his fingers around my wrist and leaned down. For a moment I thought he might kiss me, but, of course, he would not, not in public. Our association was not yet for public knowledge. Instead, eye and voice fierce, he whispered in my ear.

‘You’ll be safe here. Keep your gates closed. I’ll come for you when I can.’ Releasing me, his fingers moved to rest on the gold collar that still encircled my neck. ‘I’ll be back! Keep the faith, Eleanor.’

Then he was giving his horse the office to move off. Henry Plantagenet, my betrothed, was gone without a backward look and I wore the Devil’s collar around my neck.

F
IVE
weeks. Or was it six? I closed my gates, set my guards, sent out my scouts. If another presumptuous baron chanced his arm to take me prisoner, it would take a full-blown siege to do it.

And nothing from Henry Plantagenet. No message, no letter, not even a helpful rumour. I knew what kept him from me—plans for his imminent invasion of England were well advanced and Henry was not the man to let them stand still. As soon as the planning to transport men and provisions was complete, and the weather calm and suitable for campaigning, the invasion would begin. It was April—what better time to launch an attack with the summer months ahead? What would be his priority? Me or that distant crown? I did not like the obvious reply to the question. Every morning when I rose I watched from the battlements. Every evening when the palace settled into its nightly routine
I took up the same vantage point, but only for a handful of minutes. It would not do for my people to see their duchess malingering when she had only just returned to them.

I set myself not to think of him.

But my anxieties built as the weeks passed with still no news. There was no guarantee that I would see him again before he left to cross the sea. And what then? If he gained a foothold in England, if he defeated Stephen in battle or came to terms with him, what would the outcome be from that? Would not an English wife be a more astute choice for a claimant to the English throne? I feared she would, and cursed the unknown lady.

Promises and gifts of gold collars were one thing, political necessity to win a kingdom quite another.

And, of course, Henry might always meet his death on the battlefield. Or his ship could founder with all lives lost.

Alone, I fretted. No one knew of our agreement, neither was it safe for me to talk of it. That much I knew. To share a secret was to put it into the public domain. Even when Aelith came to join me I felt unable to whisper my secrets as I might once have done. Agnes was no recipient of my doubts and fears. All was too uncertain, too dangerous. If our intentions to wed, to unite Aquitaine with Anjou and Normandy reached Louis’s ears, he would move heaven and earth to stop us. An immediate invasion of Normandy by the King of France would put all Henry’s plans in jeopardy.

But why did the man not write to me? Why leave me in suspense?

Aelith complained that I was no good company, and when she threatened to leave me to stew in my own ill-humour, I took myself in hand. What point in fretting over so much outside my control? I was my own woman. I was ruler of Aquitaine, and it was time I acted as such. Gone were the days when I would be barred from the councils of government. Gleefully I turned my mind to annulling all the acts and decrees made by Louis, issuing charters in my own name to underline my autonomy. It did my heart good to revoke the grant of the forest of La Sèvre to the abbey of Saint-Maixent—and then promptly restore it in my own right, for my own gratification. How inconsequential in the scope of my marriage to the Angevin, but how amazingly satisfying to see Louis Capet’s name removed and replaced with mine!

It took my mind off the possibility that my acquaintance with Henry Plantagenet might have come to an untimely end before it had begun.

After some heart-searching, leaving Aelith in Poitiers, I made a private visit to the chateau of Belin near Bordeaux where I was born, and where a child called Philippa, a child who barely drew breath, was buried in the graveyard, as I had instructed. It was a simple stone, recording only her name, for who else would visit this sad place other than I? I wept with my veil pulled over
my face. For the baby, for myself. And for Raymond, Prince of Antioch.

That was the last time I allowed myself the luxury of tears for what was past. I set myself to look forward, for better or worse.

‘There’s a force approaching your gate, my lady,’ my steward informed me, six weeks after Henry Plantagenet had deposited me within my courtyard, as the late spring dusk of May sank rapidly into night. ‘Not big, but showing no device. Do we keep the gates shut? It’s late to leave someone benighted but they’re not announcing themselves …’

‘Keep the gates shut.’

I did not waste energy or words in pretending ignorance. I had known of his approach, not because he sent me word—of course he hadn’t, he would not see the need—but my scouts had informed me of his approach with a small force of Angevins. It had given me time to consider my welcome, and I did not feel welcoming.