Alienor and Henry were each undressed behind screens by their attendants before being brought to each other clad in chemise and nightshirt. The Bishop bound their hands again with a stole as he had done at their marriage to symbolise their union, and blessed them, signing the Cross between their brows with holy water. The bed was liberally sprinkled with the same and Alienor and Henry placed together in the bed. Then the guests left and they were alone.

Henry faced Alienor and touched her hair. ‘It is the colour of a Roman coin,’ he said, bringing a handful to his face to breathe in the scent. ‘It smells like a flower garden strewn with spices. I have wanted to do this all day.’

Alienor leaned towards him. ‘You will not find this perfume anywhere else,’ she whispered. ‘It comes all the way from Jerusalem.’

Their lips were almost touching. His hand left her hair and lightly brushed her throat. ‘It intoxicates me,’ he said. ‘You are so beautiful.’

It was balm to her soul to hear him say that. She slowly unfastened the ties on his shirt. ‘And you are a young lion,’ she said softly.

He drew away to pull off his shirt and for the first time she saw his body. He was lithe with youth but now she realised where he got the strength to command a powerful warhorse to his will, and to hold his own with his men. He was indeed a young golden lion with broad shoulders and a toned flat belly. A light fuzz of red-gold hair formed a pectoral cross from his chest, running in a soft stripe into the rolled-over waistband of the braies he was wearing under the shirt. Suddenly Alienor’s mouth was parched while other parts of her body were soft and ready with need. It was lust, not love, and yet it was more than lust because it was sanctified by the Church and they both had a duty to see their union successfully consummated.

He took her face in his calloused palms and kissed her. His beard was soft and his lips were softer still. She returned the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. He reached down to the hem of her chemise and drew it over her head. Through his braies, she could feel the heat and strength of his arousal.

She made a move of her own because she had had enough of passivity with Louis and needed to exert her will as an equal. She kissed Henry’s upper chest and then lightly bit the tight stub of his nipple. Henry gasped and thrust against her. The buck of his hips was wildly erotic with only that layer of light linen fabric between skin and skin. She moved to his other nipple and then back up to his throat. He kissed her again, harder this time, more assertively. She reached to the drawstring of his braies, unfastened them and rolled them down over his hips; and then she gasped because he was magnificent, and far bolder than Louis’s half-mast efforts.

Henry gave a congested laugh. ‘I am ready and willing to do my duty if you are ready to do yours.’ He nuzzled his beard against her throat. Now it was his turn to nip and suckle and Alienor felt as if she was drowning in lust. He rolled on top of her and she took him in her hand, to feel all that wild young vigour. Henry shuddered and closed his eyes, and she looked at him, trying to judge how close he was, and if he would last. Without more ado she guided him into her body and welcomed him.

He gasped as she closed around him, and she could feel him trembling. He raised himself on his forearms for a moment, holding very still, and then he lowered his head and kissed her face, her throat, her neck. She ran her hands over his sides, feeling the curve of his ribs and the muscular arch of his buttocks.

He began to move. Alienor had expected him to be swift to the finish, but he exhibited both restraint and stamina. When he finally claimed her mouth and thrust hard and strongly, he took her over the edge and she clung to him, nails digging into his biceps, legs clasped around his as he gave her his seed.

Panting, he withdrew from her and kissed her gently. ‘I do not think we shall have any difficulties in the matter of the bedchamber,’ he said with a chuckle.

Rising on her elbow, she leaned over to kiss his shoulder. ‘No,’ she agreed. He was sensual and comfortable with his body – totally unlike Louis. Making love with Henry she had become a woman again, and she knew if she thought about it too hard, she might cry, which would not be a good thing to do in front of him. She had to be an equal partner.

Leaving the bed, Henry prowled the chamber like a dog examining new territory. His hair gleamed in the candlelight as he picked a date off a silver tray and ate it while studying a wall hanging that depicted a hawking scene.

‘This chamber belonged to my grandmother,’ she said, stretching. ‘I remember her holding court here when I was a small child.’

‘I have heard tell of her and your grandsire.’ He looked round with an amused glint in his eyes. ‘Was she really named Dangereuse?’

‘Who has not heard of them?’ Alienor shrugged. ‘Scandal followed them both as closely as their shadows. She left her husband for him, and they lived for their passion, but it was so strong it was almost a sickness.’

She slipped a blanket around her shoulders and went to pour wine into a single cup. Mention of her grandmother made her think of Petronella, who was just like Dangereuse. It wasn’t good to feel that obsessively about anything.

‘It was my grandsire’s name for her, and she always used it when I knew her, but her real name was Amaberge.’

‘Why the nickname?’

‘Because she was unpredictable and wild. She and my grandsire were passionate about each other beyond reason – truly it was a kind of madness. But as girls we loved the music and dancing in her chamber. We loved to hear her stories and to be swept along when she was in a good mood, but we were afraid of her too – of the darkness inside her.’

Henry looked thoughtful but said nothing.

‘My grandsire built this tower as a range of domestic apartments, but this room was always hers. My other grandmother retired to the abbey at Fontevraud.’

‘My aunt is abbess there,’ he said. ‘My father’s sister, Mathilde. And my sister Emma lives there in the secular house of women.’

‘Your sister?’

‘Half-sister. She and Hamelin share the same mother and my aunt has mostly had the raising of her.’

‘Is she going to take vows?’

Henry shook his head. ‘Not unless she has developed a sudden vocation. I would ask you the favour of visiting Fontevraud while I am in England.’

‘Of course.’

‘And I would also ask you to consider taking Emma into your household as one of your ladies. She is amenable and her stitchwork is superb. I think you and she will do well together.’

‘As you wish,’ Alienor said, feeling intrigued. It would be interesting to meet Henry’s aunt and half-sister, and it was one of her duties as Henry’s wife to foster ties with his kin and sponsor positions for them as appropriate.

‘I do wish, thank you.’ He drank the wine and taking another stuffed date, fed it to her. She licked his fingers with a delicate tongue to remove the stickiness. He put his hands in her hair and kissed her, and once more he was hard with arousal. Picking her up, he carried her back to bed.

The second time was slower than the first, but more intense. Henry was almost sobbing as he reached completion and Alienor gripped him for dear life, feeling as if she was being drawn through the heart of a thunderstorm. This time when their bodies parted, he pulled her close and set his arm across her and in moments was asleep.

The warmth of his body and his strong arms around her made her feel secure and protected for the first time since her girlhood. In the early days, Louis had clung to her out of his own need and with Geoffrey she had never had a chance to lie like this; but Henry was confident in his own body, they were man and wife, and she no longer had to be afraid.

Henry woke up in the early morning feeling pleased and full in the heart. The shutters were open and white southern light streamed through the window. The bed curtains were open as they had left them last night and he was lying curled up close to his bride. She was breathing quietly, her golden hair spread on the pillow. He lifted himself up to look at her. The deed was done. Aquitaine was his and so was its beautiful duchess. Their union was better than he had expected it to be. She had known how to pleasure him, and had derived great pleasure herself. Despite not being a virgin, she had still felt as tight as one. And the smoothness of her arms and those long, cool fingers … He loved the delicate pale skin of her throat; the little place just under her ear; the perfect angles of her brow and cheek and jaw. There was nothing he would change. He ran his hand lightly along her arm from shoulder to hand, admiring the pale silkiness of her skin, and remembered what his father had said about her – that he should beware of her and always make sure he had the upper hand. Well and good. He would make sure by whatever means at his disposal that he kept her full cooperation and loyalty.

Alienor sleepily opened her eyes and smiled at him. Henry withdrew, slightly uneasy to be caught looking. Even with what they had shared, they were still strangers, and she was not one of the regular women of the camp with whom he could josh and tumble in the daylight. Sitting up, he began to dress.

She watched him while gathering her hair in a golden sheaf over one shoulder. ‘There is no hurry today.’

Henry shook his head. ‘I have matters to sort out with my men and much to do. I will see you later – we will ride out together.’ He kissed her on the lips and on the cheek, and was gone.

Frowning, Alienor leaned back against the pillows. Henry was clearly not a man for leisurely bed-talk. If he was awake, he had to be in motion, and she would have to adapt herself because in this case it would certainly be easier than training him to slow down. She admired all that vigour and energy, but she did wish he had lingered a little. She had woken in the night and enjoyed the feel of him next to her. All that golden strength. She had to get to know him properly now, and he her, but acknowledged it would not happen until he had dealt with the matter of England.

Later in the day they went riding as he had said, and Henry carried his new gyrfalcon Isabella on his wrist. Alienor kept La Reina in the mews so that Henry could concentrate on the pleasure of his hawk without competition. He proved an adept handler of the bird and she flew for him in strength and beauty and fierceness. He laughed with joy as he watched her soar and dip. She caught several rock doves, and then a plump cock pheasant. Grinning broadly, Henry tucked one of the tail feathers in his cap. Watching him sent a pang through Alienor’s heart. He was so alive. A man full of himself to the point of brimming over, but in confidence, not conceit.

They stopped to picnic by a stream and Henry gave Isabella to an attendant, who fastened her to a perch.

Alienor handed her new husband a cup of wine to wash down the bread and cheese he was devouring with appetite. ‘So now that we have helped ourselves to a marriage,’ she said, ‘what are we going to do about Louis?’

He swallowed and looked at her, his grey eyes bright with question. ‘Why should we do anything?’

‘By rights as tenants-in-chief we should have asked his permission before we wed.’

He snorted. ‘That was never likely.’

‘No, but now he has the right to turn on us and bring sanctions – perhaps even military ones.’

Henry shrugged. ‘If he does, he will not catch me sleeping, because I never sleep.’

‘You cannot be in three places at once.’

‘You think not?’ He looked amused. ‘A Roman tactician Vegetius said that courage is worth more than numbers and speed is worth more than courage. My army stands at Barfleur, but I can mobilise fast if I have to, and change my direction. I have better men around me than Louis does, and I can control mine. In my camp, the rider is on the horse, not the other way around. I knew the risks,’ he said, ‘and I still took them, because the rewards far outweighed the perils.’ He gave her a look, his gaze smouldering and predatory. ‘Would you not agree, madam?’

She toasted him with her cup. ‘I am still deciding,’ she replied.

Henry set his cup down and drew her close to kiss her. ‘But you are open to persuasion?’

Alienor laughed. ‘I am always open to persuasion.’

Henry was ready to leave. In the courtyard his entourage waited for him as dawn pearled the sky. He fastened his cloak and with impatient vigour cast it back over his shoulder, a mannerism with which Alienor was already becoming familiar.