Free Captive Queen by Alison Weir

here?”
    “What?” Henry almost roared. “That little rabbit? I’ll cut his balls off.”
    Eleanor could not suppress a giggle. “Surely you of all people don’t blame him for being an opportunist, my lord?”
    “It’s a family trait,” Henry muttered.
    “Does our marriage find favor with your Norman lords?” Eleanor asked.
    “Yes, and with those of Anjou and Maine. They know it will bring prestige to my domains, and trade too. They are all agog to see you. I sang your praises, never fear.”
    “And your mother, the Empress?” Eleanor had heard a lot about the formidable Matilda.
    “She is content,” Henry said shortly, with little conviction. “She thinks it makes sound political sense for us to marry. And you will charm her, I am sure.”
    “I look forward to meeting her,” Eleanor replied politely, with equally scant conviction. She wondered if Matilda was aware that her soon-to-be daughter-in-law had made the two-backed beast with her husband Geoffrey.
    “I didn’t come here to talk about my mother, you know.” Henry grinned. “I’d rather discuss our immediate plans.” He lowered his voice to a seductive murmur. “Will you bed with me tonight?”
    Eleanor smiled at him, her eyes dark with desire. “It is what I have been waiting for.”
     
     
       Henry withdrew from Eleanor and, panting heavily, rolled back on his side, his hand trembling as it sensuously traced the arching curve of her waist, hip, and thigh. His eyes held hers, warm in the flickering candlelight. He bent forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
    “I have dreamed of this,” he said breathlessly, “through all those dreadful months of waiting. God, I hated having to wait. You have been in my heart and in my loins. I ached for you.”
    “Did you ever have doubts?” Eleanor asked, resting her cheek against the curling hair that crested his broad chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his skin.
    “Not for a moment. Did you?”
    “I did wonder if I had dreamed some of it,” she murmured. “It was so unbelievable, what happened between us.”
    “In the future, troubadours will sing of us and our love,” Henry predicted. Eleanor thrilled once more to hear him speak of love. She raised herself up on one elbow, her nipples teasing his ribs.
    “They certainly will!” She laughed. “Is it not quite shocking for a husband and wife to love each other? Marriage, according to our poets, sounds the death knell to love.”
    “It will not be so with us,” Henry vowed firmly.
    “How could it be?” Eleanor rejoined, leaning over to kiss him, and trailing her hair all over his body. Then she lay down on her side, gazing again into his eyes.
    “This is bliss after bedding Louis,” she told him. “I always had to beg him to make love to me, if only to get an heir, and then he was down on his knees praying both before and after he had done the dread deed. I feel as if I have come alive. I am free of all that! Oh, the joy of it!” She kissed Henry ardently, her tongue darting mischievously into his mouth. “In France, I was not free. They didn’t want me interfering, as they called it, in their politics. I was relegated to playing chess with my ladies, or embroidery, or telling riddles, for God’s sake. I have a brain, but they wouldn’t let me use it. Tell me that we won’t have a conventional marriage, Henry. I couldn’t bear that.”
    “How could we?” he replied lazily. “We are not conventional people.”
    “You are aware that I am giving up my newfound freedom to marry you,” Eleanor ventured. “I hope you won’t forget that I am sovereign Duchess of Aquitaine, even though you have the right to rule here as my husband? And to rule me—if I let you.” Her smile was full of mischief.
    Henry concealed his surprise at her words and regarded her wickedly. “That is any husband’s right, as well you know! Once we’re married, my fine beauty, I might shut you up in a tower or beat you if you prove to be