Chapter 114: The Process Has Begun

He stood in the corridor and released the breath he had been holding. His chest ached with it. He decided once and for all to brace himself, because he was going to be done for on two fronts. He was going to lose the girl.

And he was going to lose his friend.

*****

Élodie prepared the princess as seductively as she could. Seduction, Élodie understood, was not in how much skin a woman showed, but in how carefully she suggested what remained hidden. She dressed Madeleine in a deep wine-coloured silk gown that clung beautifully at the bodice before falling in soft, elegant folds around her hips. The neckline was low enough to tempt the eyes. The sleeves were loose and sheer, embroidered with delicate gold thread. Her waist was drawn in tightly, the curve of her figure sharpened.

Élodie left her throat bare except for a single ruby pendant resting just above her chest. Her hair was arranged in loose, dark waves, pinned back. A faint dusting of powder softened her skin. Rose tint touched her lips. Her eyes were darkened ever so slightly, enough to make them look larger and dangerous.

Madeleine stared at herself in the mirror and smiled. She approved. The queen mother was no longer around to dictate who walked through Whitehall, who spoke to whom, who stood near the king, and most importantly, who got into his bed. For the first time since arriving in England, Madeleine felt free.

All Madeleine had to do was convince the king that since they were getting married, there was nothing keeping them apart any longer.

Henry had made a decision. When Madeleine had received the news from the Lord Chancellor that word was being sent to France and the marriage plans were to begin, her heart had leapt.

The treaty was secure. Her father would be proud. France would have what it wanted, and Madeleine would no longer be merely a princess waiting in a foreign palace, but the future Queen of England.

That was not the whole truth. She wanted to marry the king. Somehow, slowly, without permission, Henry had found his way into the deep recesses of her heart, a place she did not think any man was capable of reaching. His anger had thrilled her. And when he had stood before his mother and declared the palace his, Madeleine had felt her body and heart answer him.

Her fingers smoothed down her dress.

"Perfect," Élodie whispered.

"Yes," Madeleine said. "I know." She stepped out of her room, escorted by Élodie.

Now that the queen mother was absent, she could take Élodie around instead of the nosy English maid.

She got to the king’s apartments with Élodie walking behind her. The guards at the door straightened the moment they saw her. Their eyes dropped, but not before Madeleine noticed the quick, helpless flicker of attention her dress commanded. Good. If common guards noticed, Henry would notice too. Men were men, crowned or not. Some simply pretended better than others.

"Inform His Majesty I am here," she said.

One of the guards bowed and went inside. Madeleine waited in the corridor, smoothing her fingers over her gown. The silk felt warm beneath her palms. Her heart was beating too fast, which annoyed her. She was not some trembling maid waiting outside a lover’s door. She was Princess Madeleine of France, future Queen of England. She had been raised for courts and war.

Still, when the guard returned and nodded, her stomach tightened. Minutes later, she was standing in his room.

Henry stood by the window, looking out into the dark grounds beyond Whitehall. He was shirtless, his hair slightly damp. The candlelight moved over the hard lines of his shoulders and back before he turned.

Madeleine’s breath caught.

Damn him.

"Princess..." Henry called.

"Your Majesty."

His eyes moved over her. The dress had worked. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

Madeleine stepped farther into the room, raised her hands to the front of her gown and began to undo the strings.

Henry sighed immediately. "Princess, I already told you..."

"Your Highness," she cut in softly. "My lord... is there something still stopping you?"

He looked at her. Madeleine let the first loosened string fall.

"The Lord Chancellor told me..." she continued.

"Yes, yes. I sent word to France about the marriage."

"So it is settled."

"The process has begun."

"And yet you still stand there as if I am asking you to betray the church."

Henry rubbed a hand over his face. "The church will fix a date. The arrangements will be made properly, and we can delay this until the wedding night. Neither of us is going anywhere."

"I know," Madeleine said. "But my lord, I want you. Why don’t you understand that?"

"I thought you said emotions were a distraction for royals," Henry said.

"And I wasn’t wrong, Your Highness."

His brow lifted.

"It is a distraction," she admitted. "A terrible one. An inconvenient one. I constantly think about you." She moved closer.

Henry did not move away, but his whole body tightened.

"I think about what it would feel like to be wanted by you," she continued.

Henry’s jaw worked. "Madeleine..."

She stepped closer again, close enough now that she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, the heat in his eyes that he was trying, stubbornly, to bury. "I think about being in your arms. I think about what it would be like to have you look at me and forget for one moment that I am France, and you are England, and everyone outside this room expects us to become a treaty before we become man and wife. I think about what pleasure in your arms would feel like."

"I have dropped all of my dignity and pride, my lord," Madeleine said. "Do you know how humiliating that is for me? Meet me halfway here. Unless..." she said, her voice cooling slightly. "Unless you are still unsure about marrying me."

"I’m not unsure."

(Its the weekend, Everyone. I’m ready...)