Kissing the Bride (Medieval 4) - Page 3

Henry could not help himself: He smiled. Making his way to the roaring fire, he accepted mulled wine from one of Jenova’s servants. He gulped it down, feeling instant warmth spearing through his chilled body, and then set ab

out stripping off his heavy gloves and stamping the snow from his boots. Several castle dogs snuffled about him with friendly curiosity.

“Henry!”

Her familiar voice rose above the bustle. Henry did not realize how much he had missed her until he heard it. Or how the sight of her warmed his heart, he thought, as he turned.

Lady Jenova was coming toward him. Her moss green gown and the hem of her creamy chemise swirled elegantly about her legs, while a jewel-decorated, golden girdle rested low upon her shapely hips. Rings sparkled upon her elegant fingers, and her silken white veil drifted about her head and shoulders. Even from the far end of the hall, Henry could see the smile glowing in her green eyes.

Surprised, Henry wondered why he had never noticed that her skin was as creamy and as smooth as milk. And he knew the brown hair beneath her veil to be lush and curling, perfect for a man to tangle his fingers through. Her eyes, a haunting deep forest green, were set within long dark lashes and topped by slim, arching brows. Such eyes…they were really quite remarkable. Would they darken with passion when she was in the arms of a man?

With her wealth there must have been many suitors hoping to win her approval. And not just because of her riches, either. Jenova was an extremely good looking woman.

Although he had known many very beautiful women, Henry realized there was something about Jenova…something unique, something he had never noticed until now.

“I did not expect you so soon,” Jenova said.

“I did not think it worth sending your messenger with a warning I was on my way—I would have arrived before him.”

She gripped his hands firmly with her own cool fingers and smiled straight into his eyes.

For a moment, a single moment, he felt as if she had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. And then Henry blinked and shook off his strange abstraction. He raised her fingers to his lips, enjoying the scent and taste of her, surprising himself yet again. When he looked up, there was a twinkle in her green eyes.

“I thought that you might be otherwise occupied at court, Henry. Too busy with your intrigues to get away.”

“Nothing could ever be as important as your wishes, Jenova,” he said blandly, and for once he meant it.

She laughed. Jenova never took his compliments seriously, Henry thought irritably, but in another moment he was smiling at his own foolishness. This was Jenova, after all. Why should it suddenly matter to him whether she believed his compliments or not?

“You are looking well,” he said.

She was tall for a woman, for she stared into his eyes at almost the same height. “I am well,” she replied. “Come, Henry, and sit with me a moment. As soon as my sentries came to tell me they had seen you, I told the cook to prepare food, and I know you will want a hot bath, so there will be one waiting, when you are ready for it. You see, we are not complete barbarians here.”

“I am pleased to hear it.”

She pulled a face at him and turned away. Henry followed her. Her skirts swayed gently as she walked, and the line of her back was straight and graceful. The sight of her was to be enjoyed, but Henry told himself that what he really enjoyed about it was that he felt absolutely no desire. None at all, he insisted to himself. There was no urgency to bed her, and to make her his. It was actually quite restful. He had not fully appreciated it before, but being with Jenova was really very soothing.

Jenova led him to an alcove, partially hidden behind an embroidered screen. Gracefully, she sat down, arranging her skirts about her, and Henry sat beside her, smiling as he watched her fuss. She seemed to be avoiding his eyes. What had she done that she could not tell her oldest friend?

“You sent for me and here I am. Now, tell me, Jenova,” he said with a slight impatience. “What is it?”

She looked up, and her green eyes shone with both excitement and trepidation. “Henry, oh Henry, I am thinking to marry again.”

Henry stared. For such a practised lordling who was never at a loss for a quip or a joke, he suddenly found himself with nothing to say. And worse, inside his chest a mixture of very intense emotions writhed like serpents.

Was one of them dread? But why should he feel thus? And was another disappointment? Now it occurred to Henry to wonder why he was so surprised by her news. She had loved Mortred, aye, but he had been dead two years, and there must have been many ambitious barons who had set their sights upon her since. True, she had told Henry soon after Mortred had died that she did not intend to wed again, and because of her kinship with the king, it had been possible for her to honor her vow. The king’s fondness for her had worked in her favor, and Jenova had remained a widow, ruling her own lands, doing just as she’d wished. Indeed, thought Henry with an inner smile, when had he ever known Jenova to do otherwise?

Henry tried to clear his thoughts, tried to shrug off the strange mood that had come upon his normally cold and rational self. Mayhap he was just concerned for her well-being? That must be it, he thought with relief, as he looked at her.

Jenova was frowning at him, a tiny wrinkle between her arching brows. “You do not seem overjoyed, Henry,” she said with a bite to her tone. “And I have not even told you his name. This does not bode well, does it, for your attendance at my bride ale?”

Henry managed to laugh, though it took more effort than he would have believed possible.

“I am sorry, Jenova, but it was a shock…a surprise. I had no idea…. You have been a widow so long, I amused to your single state. I did not realize you wanted to alter it. Who is the fortunate man?”

“I have not decided to say aye to him yet, but the man is Baldessare.”

Henry kept the smile on his face through sheer strength of willpower. Jenova gave him a sharp, searching glance but seemed satisfied with what she saw. Relaxing a little, her cheeks faintly flushed, she proceeded to tell him about her chosen husband.

Tags: Sara Bennett Medieval Historical
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