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Duke of Bracciano, whom she’d once hoped to marry. There were numerous other ladies and gentlemen of the Italian Court, as well as the French Ambassador, and she felt excited at the prospect of leaving Italy to at last meet her husband.

Part Three
    F OR THE L OVE OF A K ING

1600–1601
    T hey were quarrelling again. In December Henry and his men, having effectively starved the armies of the Duke of Savoy by trapping them in the mountains, withdrew into Piedmont where word reached him of the arrival of his young bride at Marseilles. Now the Marchioness de Verneuil was refusing to attend Her Majesty’s reception.
    â€˜It would be an insult to myself,’ Henriette stormed, tossing her fiery locks. She was sitting beside him in bed, completely naked and all too sensually aware of the effect she was having upon her royal lover.
    Henry fingered an auburn curl that fell on her bare shoulder. ‘How so? You know that I love you. Have I not given you sufficient proof of my affection this night?’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘Every night, in fact.’
    â€˜If you insist on attending your wife , I shall make haste to Paris.’
    â€˜Whether in Paris or Marseilles you must be presented, dear heart. She is the Queen.’
    â€˜ I shall do as I please.’ Henriette turned the full fury of those glittering green eyes upon him. ‘Did you not deliberately set out to humiliate me by selecting the Duc de Bellegarde to carry the marriage papers to Florence? Of all the high nobles you could have chosen, Your Majesty saw fit to select the one you had previously accused of paying court to me. A cheap revenge, was it not, used as a deliberate affront against myself.’
    Henry looked faintly surprised by this outburst and then laughed out loud. ‘Is that what is troubling you? Then I swear the thought never entered my head. I forgave Bellegarde for that petty fight he picked with Joinville a long time ago, as I have forgiven him many times in the past for his indiscretions. We have had our differences, he and I, but he is my most loyal friend. As are you, my love, I trust,’ he murmured, teasing a pert nipple with the heel of his thumb. ‘So have done with your sulks, put on your most glamorous gown and be presented to your new queen.’
    â€˜Never!’ In one swift movement Henriette leaped from the bed, reaching for her robe de chambre . But Henry was too quick for her, and catching her by the wrist pulled her back into his arms. The heat between them instantly ignited and he was astride her in a second, pinning her down and taking her with all the force of his passion. Henriette yielded willingly, giving of herself with generous abandon, the harsh words between them forgotten.
    Nevertheless, she departed for Paris the very next morning.
    Marie was weary of travelling. Being November, the normally calm blue waters of the Mediterranean had been choppy, the rough crossing demanding they frequently put ashore to shelter. Her uncle the Grand Duke had again counselled her before she’d embarked, warning Marie that it might have been unwise of her to make such promises to Leonora. ‘Make no demands upon your new husband the King until you have spent some time in his company.’
    â€˜It was a very small promise,’ Marie excused herself, beginning to grow weary of her uncle’s constant admonishments. ‘Merely an appointment in my own household.’
    â€˜No promise is ever small, not to a king. There are always . . . implications.’
    To Donna Leonora herself, Ferdinand advised that she not interfere between their Majesties. ‘Nor usurp the prerogatives and offices of the great ladies of the court.’
    â€˜You have my word, Sire. I wish only for a quiet life, and covet no honours for myself. Only the permission to devote myself to my royal mistress.’ Keeping her eyes suitably downcast, Donna Leonora offered this assurance as she kissed the