"I shall provide the Seat of St. Peter with all due aid. For my Monarch, for myself, and especially for my wife."
He awoke at dawn.
The window was open, letting in the pale light of the south.
The bed curtains were still drawn open, just as they had been when they fell asleep last night. Matilda was curled up in his arms.
She breathed quietly, her reddish-gold hair splayed across the pillow. He propped himself up to look at her.
'It's all settled. Tuscan is mine, as is this beautiful Duchess. Our union is better than I ever expected.'
He gently caressed her arm from shoulder to hand, admiring the silkiness of her skin.
Her eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred with sleep.
Eric moved to kiss her again, but Matilda turned her head away. "I haven't washed up yet."
The bitter taste in her mouth was unpleasant.
But she couldn't resist Eric. Her body yielded to the sensation, the friction of their skin bringing her pleasure.
'She felt ashamed and sinful for being this way.'
