He pulled her tightly to him. “And what do you want to do?”
She hesitated. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she wanted him to kiss her and touch her, and wipe away the memory of her husband pawing at her like a slavering dog with a bone. But how could she put that into words?
His eyes, however, showed he understood. “Come.” He rose from his seat, holding her, and let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. Taking her hand, he led her behind the dais to the stairs leading to the bedchambers. She climbed quickly behind him, her heart thumping.
Halfway up, however, he stopped with a curse.
“What is it?” Was he having second thoughts?
“I forgot to tell my squire we are leaving early in the morning. I want him to have my horse ready.” He kissed her hand. “You go up. I will not be long.”
She watched him disappear back down the stairs, then climbed to her bedchamber. Once inside, she pushed the door closed. In spite of the warmth of the day, the evening had cooled, and the maid had lit the fire. The flames filled the room with a welcome, warm glow.
Suddenly, she was afraid. She wanted this more than anything but felt flustered, unsure. She only ever had bedded Geoffrey. She knew where everything fit, but she had no idea how to please a man. Geoffrey hadn’t seemed to need any help; he’d pleasured himself without aid from her. Henry, however, had seemed disappointed when he described his late wife in the same way.
Eleanor sighed. She’d been shameless and behaved with abandon in the hall, but this was different—this time, he would be touching her, and would expect her to touch him and please him, too. Did he think she was skilled at lovemaking simply because she’d performed for him? Because if he did, he was in for a big shock.
Her hands shook as she removed her over-tunic, folded it, and laid it on the coffer. Then she removed her shoes. She left her linen under-tunic on. Geoffrey had liked her clothed, and though she felt certain Henry didn’t feel the same way about the naked form, she wasn’t sure. She climbed onto the bed and lay back on the pillows.
Eleanor waited as patiently as she could, although her heart pounded in her ears, and her mouth had gone dry with panic.
*
In the hall, Henry marched over to his squire, hiding a smile as he lifted the blanket and the girl underneath squealed. Politely pretending she was invisible, he instructed the young man to have his horse ready at first light, then left them to it, his desire rising at the thought of Eleanor waiting for him.
He ran up the stairs, two at a time. He couldn’t believe what she’d done in the hall, or that she’d now offered herself to him. He would never have asked; he would have been certain she would have refused, but he recognised her hunger for affection. Although he didn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability, he desired her so much that he couldn’t turn her down.
He pushed open the door to the chamber and entered.
Eleanor lay on the bed on her back, hands on her stomach, fingers linked, her blonde hair spread across the pillows. He shut the door behind him and walked around the bed in front of the fire.
She gave him a nervous smile, but didn’t move. He stood beside the bed and looked at her curiously. “Are you feeling all right?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He frowned. “Then what are you doing?”
“Waiting for you.” She blinked, her brow furrowing.
Suddenly, he understood. A flash of lovemaking with Maud flittered through his mind, her lying limp and unresponsive in his embrace, and he frowned.
Eleanor sat up quickly, pushing down her tunic, flushing. “Oh, I’ve made you angry.”
“Oh, Ella, not you, sweetheart.” He caught her hand and pulled her up, bringing her toward him. He put one arm around her waist and lifted her chin with the other. “Lovemaking is something that should involve both man and woman. Let me try and explain,” he said huskily, and lowered his lips to hers.
*
Eleanor accepted his kiss and wondered if he could feel the thumping of her heart. She had a brief flashback to the moment by the lake, and then the memory of young Hal disappeared, and there was only Henry standing before her. He lowered his other hand, and now both strong arms wrapped around her, pressing her close to him. He was hard against the flat of her stomach, leaving her in no doubt he desired her, filling her mind with the memory of him in the bathtub, glorious in his moment of climax. He kissed her slowly, languidly, and she tried to concentrate on breathing as his lips moved gently across hers.
Lovemaking should involve both man and woman. His words rang in her ears. Judging by the look on his face, she’d not done the right thing by lying on the bed waiting for him. He wanted her to do something. But what?
Sex with Geoffrey had always been somehow…sordid. She’d had the impression he found lovemaking distasteful; that he did it to assuage a physical need, but thought the female form disgusting, abhorrent. Somehow, she didn’t think Henry felt the same. She so wanted to please him but worried about doing the wrong thing.
His kiss deepened a little, and with a start, she felt his tongue touch hers. Did he want her to react to the touch, to kiss him back? She hesitated, then decided to try it. Tentatively, she ran her tongue lightly over his lips.
He rewarded her with an intake of breath, and drew back slightly to look at her. His deep blue eyes were filled with passion, and instinctively she realised she’d pleased him.
This time when he kissed her, she pressed herself against him, bringing her arms up between them, running her hands up his chest, behind his neck, and into his hair. He sighed and left her lips to kiss her cheeks and her ears, then travelled back up the line of her jaw to her mouth. She sighed back, ran her hands through his dark hair, brushed her thumbs on the slight stubble of his chin.
He dropped his hands, grazed her thighs, moved his fingers against her leg, and she realised he was raising her under-tunic, about to lift it over her head. In spite of her immodest act in the Hall, she pushed herself back, widening her eyes in alarm. She’d never stood naked before a man. Geoffrey had wanted her body covered.
Henry’s eyebrow rose. Without warning, he lifted her in his arms, bringing her legs around him. She gasped, and he laughed, moving the short distance to the coffer. He brushed the contents off the top carelessly, and the tray and cakes placed there by the maid clattered as they fell onto the rug, along with her folded gown. He sat her on the coffer, then stepped back. “Me first, then.”
He lifted the hem of his blue tunic and pulled it over his head. He dropped it onto the soft sheepskin rug in front of the hearth. His muscles glowed bronze from the light of the fire, and once again, she found herself fascinated by how he’d developed from slender youth to powerful man.
Not taking his eyes from hers, he unlaced his breeches and kicked them off. He stood a few feet from her, holding his arms out at shoulder height, palms up, and turned full circle. “See?” He teased. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Her breath caught at the beauty of his body. No, he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of.
He came back to her and pulled her to her feet. “Now, it is your turn.” He caught the bottom of her tunic. This time, she didn’t stop him as he lifted it over her head and dropped it to the floor on top of his.
She stood, naked, as his gaze ran all the way down her and back again. If it were possible, he grew even harder, and his eyes were as dark as the night sky. She shivered under the heat of his stare, feeling as if she had been ravished, and he’d hardly touched her.
“You are beautiful.” Lifting her up once again onto the coffer, he kissed her, but this time, as he did so, he began to explore with his hands. He ran his palms down her body, cupped her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipples, making her gasp with pleasure. Then his hand swept lower, along the outside of her thigh to her knee, and then up the inside. He brushed his fingers against her pubic hair, slid them between her legs. She gasped, clutchi
ng hold of the curtain behind her, which sagged from the window as her body tensed. He drew back a little to watch her, but didn’t stop touching her. With her already slick from her previous orgasm, his fingers slid easily inside her.
He inhaled, catching his breath, and cupped her head with his free hand as he kissed her passionately. It was a power she hadn’t known she possessed, this ability to drive a man to the edge of his senses, and maybe beyond. The thought that she could make him feel as sensual as he was making her feel was like strong wine, going straight to her head, intoxicating and addictive, and she wanted more of it. At the moment, he looked restrained, his emotions in control, but she wanted him as hot for her as she was for him.
She opened her legs wider and received a grunt of pleasure in response. He kissed her harder, deeper, and she moved her hips against his hand, directing his touch.
Henry pulled back again. “You learn quickly.” His breaths came sharply, and his eyes shone with an emotion she could not read.
“Do not stop,” she begged.
He rewarded her with a laugh. “Patience, my lady.” He lifted her once again from the coffer. She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed her thighs; he groaned, capturing her lips with his own. He carried her to the bed, kissing her, and bumped into the table along the way, sending it crashing to the ground. Then he knocked against the bedpost, and her nightgown tumbled to the floor. He tossed her onto the bed so she bounced slightly on the thick feather mattress, then, laughing, he fell on top of her and pinned her to the covers.
“Get out of this,” he teased, catching her hands and restraining them above her head.
He was heavy, lying full length upon her, but his weight was wonderful, and delight rippled through her. She squirmed beneath him, grinding her hips against his. “I do not want to.” She pouted, feeling the tip of him pressing up between her legs. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, biting gently, then parted her legs so she was open and ready for him.
Henry growled like a wolf and rolled, bringing her on top and pushing her shoulders up so she sat astride him. “You do it. As slowly as you want.”
She couldn’t have been more shocked. She’d only ever made love with Geoffrey lying on her back. “You wish me to be on top?”
He laughed. “Absolutely, my lady.” He caught her hands again, bringing them above his head so she leaned over him.
Catching her nipple in his mouth, he ran his tongue over it, and she groaned. She could feel him pressing against her, and this time, he didn’t seem to want to stop. Eleanor pushed her hips, moving a little from side to side until she felt the tip of him enter her. Slowly, she slid down him until he was fully inside her.
Henry gasped, held his breath, then let it out slowly as she began to move on top of him. His tanned skin glowed, beautifully lit by the fire. She ran her hands up the defined muscles of his chest, across his wide shoulders, along his firm arms. She traced the scar at the top of his ribs and lowered her head to kiss it gently. Henry sighed, and she kissed up to his mouth again, teasing his tongue with her own.
He raised his hands to caress her breasts, and she arched her back in response, letting her hair fall onto his legs, brush his thighs. He tangled one hand in the locks, running his fingers through it. He wrapped the tresses around and around his hand, as he had with her braid. She dipped her head, and he claimed her lips once more. She could feel the heat searing through him, setting him alight.
It wasn’t enough; she wanted more. Now she knew her power, she wanted to use it to make him burn. Her desire swept through her, carrying with it an urgency refusing to be stilled. She kissed him hard, taunted him with her tongue, opened her mouth to welcome him. Spreading her thighs, she let him drive deeper inside her. Part of her was shocked at her passion, at her lack of inhibition, but a greater part was aroused, fanning the flame of her fever.
Henry was starting to lose control; she could sense his animal instincts taking over. Clasping her close, he rolled her beneath him. They’d forgotten how near the edge of the bed they were, however, and with startled laughs, they barely stopped themselves from falling off the side.
Thoroughly enjoying herself, she exclaimed in delight as he wrapped her legs around him and got to his feet, still inside her. He took a few steps toward the wall, and her back met the tapestry with a bump. She looked to one side, momentarily coming to her senses as she realised what she leaned against.
At her wry smile, he pulled back. “What is it?”
“I was thinking about Geoffrey.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That is not exactly what a man likes to hear when he is in the middle of making love to a woman.”
She gave a husky laugh. “I used to count the stitches in this tapestry while he pleasured himself.”
He lowered his head until his lips were a hair’s breadth away from hers. “And now?”
“What tapestry?” Her giggles were soon lost amongst more kisses, passion taking them over once again. She grabbed for the tapestry and knocked her jewellery box and other knick-knacks off the nearby shelf, so he lifted her clear of the wall and carried her to the sheepskin rug in front of the fire, where he lowered her carefully.
She could see by the intensity in his gaze that all amusement had now faded. Lying half on her, he wrapped her leg around him and plunged into her more deeply, thrusting more rhythmically, looking into her eyes.
A familiar feeling began to build in the pit of her stomach. For the first time since he’d undressed her, she felt unsure. The hall had been dark, and she’d been in a semi-dream state. Now, she could see clearly in the firelight, and he’d be able to see every emotion passing across her face. The thought of having that intimate feeling with Henry’s dark eyes fixed on her, with him actually inside her, brought a warm flush to her cheeks.
“No,” she whispered, only half meaning it.
“Yes.” He continued to thrust, relentless, insistent.
The pleasure was building, and she realised it was too late, too late. Her breathing quickened, her muscles tightened in her thighs and belly, and she closed her eyes, a wave of pleasure flooding over her. Henry stopped his movement and held her tightly as she went rigid, the muscles rippling in repeated, exquisite contractions. She gave small, sharp gasps, digging her fingers into his skin. And then the wave was gone, and she went limp in his arms, breathing heavily, damp with sweat and desire.
She opened her eyes to see him watching her. He looked, she thought, rather smug. She glared at him. “Oh no, do not think you are going to get away with it.”
Moving herself under him, she wrapped both legs around his waist. He balanced himself on his elbows above her, eyes dark, as he began to move again. As he did so, she wondered what she could do to drive him nearer to the brink. Carefully, she tightened her pelvic muscles. Henry grunted, and his pace quickened. She did it again, and he groaned, his eyes closing.
“I am going to watch you, this time,” she whispered in his ear, slowly raking her nails up his back.
Pleasuring him did not take long, to her satisfaction. She tightened her thighs twice more, and he shuddered, emptying himself into her. She ran her hands up his solid biceps, over his pectorals, fascinated with how big and strong he had grown.
Henry gradually relaxed, but didn’t withdraw, seeming to enjoy her warmth and the closeness of her wrapped around him. She followed his gaze as he looked at the devastation they had wreaked around them. Together they burst out laughing.
“Did I do it right?” she asked, as he finally withdrew from her and lay on his back in front of the fire, one arm resting on his brow.
He turned his head toward her and smiled. “You tell me, Lady Eleanor. It has never been quite like that before. I think you have taught me a thing or two, tonight.”
A glow spread across her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire. “I feel sorry for the maids. Having to clean up after us two.”
He laughed and lifted his arm, then lowered it around her as sh
e curled up against his chest. They lay for a while, letting the fire warm them, and she thought about nothing but the moment and the feel of his heart beneath her cheek.
*
Later, they arose from the rug, and Henry poured them both a goblet of wine. Then they retired to bed, he curling around her, nuzzling her ear as they lay there, warm and comfortable.
“You smell good.” He lifted her hair to his face, inhaling the scent of her.
She smiled. “I smell of you.”
“So you do.” He laughed and kissed her shoulder. “And I smell of you.”
She turned on her back and looked up at him. “I will not forget you, Henry.”
He tipped his head. “You are no longer calling me Hal?”
“You are too grown up. Though I loved the youth, I want to remember you this way.”
His smile faded. He studied her, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, she recalled him sitting on his horse in front of his army, his plate armour glinting in the sunlight, a symbol of power and strength.
She reached up and touched his face. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked amused, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.
“For showing me what it should be like. At last, I can appreciate the jokes and the comments made by the maids and the castle guard. It always used to puzzle me why they seemed to think lovemaking such an interesting topic. Now I understand.”
He smiled. “You are welcome.”
She shook her head. “I would not have believed it could be so different from what it was like with Geoffrey.”
“How did you put up with him for so long?”
“He was away a lot. That helped.”
He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. “I cannot bear to think of that oaf making love to you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, what we did was not lovemaking, I realise that now. What you and I did, that was sensual, erotic, passionate…”
“And we will be doing it again very soon if you carry on like that.”
She followed his pointed gaze to where she had been stroking his thigh, and her eyes widened, seeing him erect once more. “Again?”
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