The Winter Love (24 page)

William smiled.
“I don’t know what will happen to you, now, but if you ever need us we will do what we can for you.”

“Eleanor will stay here.”

Henry stood in the doorway. The bruises on his face were starting to swell and the edges of the cuts were crusting with dried blood. His clothes were wet and a small puddle was forming at his feet.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“What else can we do, William? I shall take her back to her convent tomorrow.”

“Sister
Margaret’s reputation...”

“I shall s
leep with the servants and Maud will sleep with Eleanor.”

“I am satisfied, William.” Eleanor had no wish to gainsay Henry in this mood and, if he did not love her, she did not want to sleep
one more night in his house than she had to.

“
Perhaps Philippa...”

“
Enough, William. You would have done better to have stopped our brother seducing a nun.”

“He did not seduce me!”
Eleanor was outraged by the suggestion. “He proposed marriage.”

“Tell me you never allowed him to kiss you.” Henry stepped aside to allow
Philippa to enter the room, but his full attention was on Eleanor and her answer.

“Yes, I allowed him to kiss me.”
It was barely a whisper, but she knew that Henry had heard. Now she knew shame, not because she had allowed Edward to kiss her, but because she had not trusted Henry enough to keep his promise to come back for her. She rose out of the chair, half thinking to go to Henry and tell him this, but he had already turned from her to Philippa.

“Give me that and go.” Henry took the jar of ointment from Philippa, who looked at her husband, who turned
to Eleanor.

“Goodbye, Sister Margaret.  I need not wish you well, for I know
that Henry will keep you safe, but if you should ever need us...”

“Thank you again for your kindness. It is more than I have deserved.”

William touched her cheek gently. “I should have liked to have you for a sister-in-law.” He leaned closer to her ear and whispered. “But not as Edward’s wife.”

Eleanor smiled at him as he left with
Philippa.

When they were alone Eleanor turned to Henry. She spoke first so that he could not.  Regardless of how he felt about her, Henry would be kind and gentle and she did not think she could bear it. Shocked though she had been by Edward’s behaviour, she did not want to break down in front of Henry, for his distant kindness would destroy her utterly.

“Take your tunic off and come before the fire. Let me put some salve onto your bruises
before they begin to trouble you.” Her voice shook slightly, but she soon had it under control. She must not think about what had happened, but only about Henry and how much he needed her help now.

“They trouble me already,” said Henry
, “but the salve is for your face first. Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

Eleanor
hesitated, but could not lie to him. She took off her cloak and Henry’s eyes widened when he saw the bruises and bite marks on her breasts.

“I wish now that I had killed him.”
He turned as if to go and put his wish into action.

“Then you would be
hanged and I should have no protector.” Eleanor struggled to keep her voice reasonable, as she realised that it would be even more difficult to keep Henry from killing his brother a second time than it had been the first. To her surprise Henry turned back and she watched him clench and unclench his fist until he had control over himself once more. Even in his anger he was careful not to look at her and this concern for her embarrassment calmed her somehow.

Keeping his eyes on her face,
Henry held out the jar to her. “This will help a little.” Then he turned his back while he took off his tunic and his undertunic. As she watched him undress, Eleanor rubbed the ointment into her breasts then covered herself as best she could with her tunic. The ointment soothed her, but she shook as she remembered how Edward had mistreated her. Once again she fought for her self-control. Henry was still facing away from her so she moved towards him and started to smooth the ointment onto his back.

He
flinched when she touched him, but she made her movements as gentle as possible. Henry sighed, “That feels good.”

Eleanor could only agree. His skin was warm and firm beneath her
trembling hands. Just touching him made her feel calmer. She was ashamed by the joy that filled her and the pleasure that she knew as she felt his flesh beneath her hands. Slowly she traced the outlines of his muscles and his bones. Once she leant forward as if to kiss him, but he started as he felt her breath against his skin and she moved away from the temptation.

When he was relaxed again
she followed his bruises round to his chest until she was standing in front of him. She dared not look at his face, but continued to smooth the ointment into his skin, working in small circles. His skin seemed warmer now and she was glad that the fire had done its work. Finding the scar on his right shoulder that had so troubled him when they had first met, she worked some of the ointment into it.

Finally she was finished and raised her eyes to his. “You have the
touch of a healer,” he said. His voice was hoarse, as if he was having trouble speaking. Did his shoulder still cause him pain? Had she made it worse? He smiled and she knew she had not hurt him.

“I have spent many years rubbing ointment into horses’ legs or shoulders.
Men are not so different.”

He
nodded, then took the jar from her. She must have imagined that his fingers lingered when they touched hers. “You forgot to do your face.”

So she had
, but she did not know how he could tell. She reached for the jar again, but Henry already had some of the ointment on his fingers. His touch was so light that his fingers could have been feathers. Even when he touched the new cut on her cheek she felt no pain. This should never end, she willed. How wonderful it would be to live forever in this moment, safe with Henry with him touching her face like a lover, even if he did not mean it. He was slow, as if he, too, wished the moment to last. His eyes held hers and even if she had wanted to look away she could not have done so.

Henry’s thumb began to rub along her bottom lip
and she parted her lips slightly. The mere touch of his finger was more exciting than any of Edward’s kisses had been. Henry was no longer looking into her eyes, but at her lips. Even as she wondered why, he lowered his head. His lips were so soft that she could not tell when they met hers. His kiss was not as practised as Edward’s. He did not seek to dominate or to plunder, but he took his time and explored her lips before he pressed between them. Eleanor opened for him gladly. He was uncertain, so she guided him with her tongue. She had expected him to be more experienced than her, but he was not. She remembered some of the things that Edward had done that had pleased her and plunged her tongue into Henry’s mouth. Henry became completely still for a moment and she was afraid that she had shocked him so much that he would withdraw. Instead he held her head with both hands and copied her. She moaned softly, scared to distract him, then she was lost as their tongues met.

Eleanor’s whole body responded as it had never responded to Edward. She stepped closer to him, so that their bodies touched. Henry groaned and pulled her even closer, his arms trapping her against him. His body was hard against hers and Eleanor put her arms around his neck so that she might kiss him more deeply.
Henry broke the kiss to press his lips to her face and neck, then he returned to her mouth.

Henry quickly worked out what gave her the most pleasure
and she gave herself up to him. She felt his hand moved searchingly over her back, then round to her belly. She eased herself slightly away from his body so that he might touch her wherever he wanted, but it was her tunic that he was after. Barely rags now, it came apart easily enough as he pulled it away and down her arms so that it and her ripped undertunic fell to the floor. Now Eleanor knew nothing other than the need to cling to him as Henry’s kiss became hungrier and more demanding. The more he demanded the more Eleanor gave, wanting to please him and to keep him here.

Henry’s hand smoothed her bare shoulder and down her back, then made its way between their bodies to her breast. His mouth f
ollowed until he was holding a breast and kissing it. Eleanor twisted her fingers in his hair. She sighed contentedly as his tongue touched her nipple. Then Henry pulled his head up and looked down at the breast he was holding as if he didn’t know what it was. At first Eleanor thought that he was afraid he’d hurt her, but his kisses had been so gentle that she stroked his hair and opened her mouth to reassure him.

“
Oh, Eleanor, I’m so sorry.” Henry let her go and stepped back. “That was wrong of me.” His face was full of shame and he seemed not to want to look at her, but he did.

Eleanor felt unsteady for a moment, then she found her balance. “It wasn’t wrong.”
She could barely speak for fear that he was going to leave her here alone.

“Yes it was. I have condemned
and fought Edward for abusing you and now I have done the same. I am no better than him, worse, in fact. I ask for your forgiveness.” He turned as if to leave then turned back to her. “Tomorrow I shall take you home. You cannot stay here.” Eleanor could think of nothing to say to stop him leaving and he turned to the door once more and left as quickly as he could. Eleanor stared after him, then realised that she was shivering with cold. She pulled the remnants of her clothes around her as best she could, then huddled before the fire where she wept.

Eleanor was still weeping by the fire when Maud came to her with some clothes and a glass of wine, but she was not able to do anything with either for a while. Maud sat on the floor and held her while she cried into the servant’s lap. Her hard-won self-control had deserted her and she didn’t care that Maud was both a stranger and a servant. The older woman’s presence was comforting and it was as if Eleanor was a child again, crying over some hurt to her mother. Maud smoothed Eleanor’s hair and made comforting noises until Eleanor fell asleep in her arms.

When she awoke she drank the wine and Maud helped her to dress. Nothing was asked or said about what had happened in this room, but Maud must have guessed much.
Eleanor was past being embarrassed at being found naked in Henry’s solar; all she could think was that Henry had left her alone again and that he would not be coming back.

“The master said you should stay here. You will not be disturbed and I will bring you some food when you’re ready.”

Eleanor could say nothing. Henry had seen to it that someone was looking after her, so he would not have to see her himself. Maud did not press her, but left the room and returned quickly with some more wine and some food. Eleanor could not eat, but drank the wine.

As she had guessed,
Henry did not appear at the midday or evening meals. She sent Maud to see if he was there and began to worry, although she no longer wished to see him. It was enough to know that he did not want her here. She supposed she should be relieved that he was not governed by his lusts as Edward was, but it was a small comfort. He must despise her. If she had not allowed him to kiss her he would surely be with her now, comforting her instead of Maud. The thought of what had so narrowly been avoided with Edward made her shake with fear and she did not hide from herself that both men had had the same end in mind, but Edward had been prepared to take what he wanted with violence to show his ownership. She did not think he had been overcome by lust as he had been before; this had been different. The violence had seemed to give him more pleasure that the touch of flesh against flesh. Whilst Henry... Eleanor had to admit that she did not understand Henry’s motives. No words of love had passed between them; Henry had acted solely from lust. Was it only her love for Henry that made what he had done more acceptable than Edward’s violent attack? But what had made him stop? Edward’s hateful words came back to her. Henry liked men. He and Philip had been lovers. She wept again.

Eleanor spent the afternoon with
Henry’s book. She could barely concentrate on it, but the knowledge that it was something precious to him began to calm her. The familiar words brought her little comfort, but she traced their outlines with her fingers, knowing that Henry had written them with love. She tried to pray, but could not, certain the only reason she wanted to pray was to beg that she could stay with Henry, even if he did not want her.

Several times that afternoon she cried as she thought about what Edward had intended to do to her.
If Henry did not recognise her love for him, his brother had and had decided to do something about it. Henry had at least made sure she would return to the convent a virgin, safe from both brothers.

Her head ached
as much as her body, but she refused to go to her room and sleep; she wanted to be here when Henry returned. He might be avoiding her, but, if he needed her when he came back, she would be here to help him. She did not wonder at how she knew that he needed help as much as she did, that somehow he was more troubled by what had happened in this room than she was by what had happened in the stable. Nor did she think it odd that she had spent the afternoon hoping not to see him, but now seeing him was the most important thing. As darkness fell she wanted to go to the hall to wait for him there, but Maud persuaded her to stay in the more comfortable solar.