Chapter 10

Fortunately his chambers were not too far from Catherine's. Because if Henry would have to carry his feisty wife only a minute longer, he risked dropping her as she struggled with might and main. Her little fists were tirelessly hitting his back while she insulted him rudely with a wild mix of French and Italian curses. It was a mystery to him where she got the energy from after her previous martyrdom.
When he turned the last corner he shouted for his guards to open the door. With long strides Henry hurried into his bedchamber and dropped his struggling burden unceremoniously onto his bed.

"What's wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?" His wife shouted at him angrily.
Her hair that had been aesthetically styled the previous day was now tousled and framed her flushed face in a wild yet beautiful way. He had always loved her hair. Honey blond with a touch of red, that suited her sometimes rather uncontrolled temper as well as her numerous freckles, she unnecessarily started to hide under her makeup many years ago. And it always smelled of lavender and wild roses, even now he could detect a volatile whiff of it. Inevitably he grabbed a curl of her hair and playfully twirled the strand around his finger.

"On the contrary, I can finally think straight again." With his thumb and forefinger he lifted her chin and forced her to look at him. "Whether you like it or not, you will now reside in my chambers and that's final." In a more conciliatory gesture he ran his finger over the corner of her mouth. "Everything I do I do for your own good."
Henry knew that Catherine would continue arguing with him without cease until she got her way if he did not put a stop to it immediately. His wife might be the most powerful woman of France, widely feared for her fits of temper, but there was one authority even a Catherine de 'Medici had to bow to. And that was that of her husband, the King of France.

She angrily pushed his hand away so Henry released her and straighted himself. The stubborn manner she looked up at him and thrusted forward her chin was a certain indicator that she would give in for the moment but that the final word hasn't yet been spoken.
"I would like to take my bath now. Only if my husband and master approves, of course." The sarcastic tone of her voice and her provocative look irritated him, but Henry reminded himself to remain calm.
"Go ahead - and Catherine: don't overdo it. I have only a limited amount of patience left and you have been using up quite a lot of it lately."
"There's only one person in this room who overreacts, and that's not me, dear husband." Even in her defeat, his Medici wife still denied him her unconditional surrender.

The king called for his servants as well as for her young lady he had previously selected to be his wife's watchdog for the time being.
But before he left his wife in the care of the other woman, he first bandaged Catherine's wrist. Fortunately the bleeding had stopped but he still wanted to play it safe.
When the two women had disappeared into the adjoining room, he let out a loud sigh and dropped down on one of his heavy wing chairs. Had there ever been a more complicated creature on earth than the indomitable and stubborn woman he had married many years ago?

At any rate, he could not remember ever meeting another female that was able to upset him with her calculating words, her rigid will and stubbornness to such an extent. One single rebellious look was all it took to make his blood boil.
But his Catherine was not easy to impress with harsh words he sometimes fired her way in an helpless attempt to hurt his wife. Neither by brute force he admittedly felt tempted to demonstrate when his desire to dominate her became overpowering. A brutality he later always felt ashamed of.
Given their changed living situation and her delicate condition he would have to learn how to master this uncontrolled side of him as not to jeopardize the welfare of his very own child.

Henry stared at his stained sleeve, then he looked at the speckles of vomit on his pants. When he inspected the rest of his clothes, he even spotted several drops of blood on his beige shirt. Catherine had certainly done a thoroughly job of ruining his attire.
He took advantage of her absence and changed clothes before sending for his neglected correspondence. Whether he finished his work in his study or here while watching over his resting wife wouldn't really matter.

When the door to the adjoining room opened and a rush of hot, flowery sweet steam that smelled of almonds flowed in, the King of France was deeply engrossed in one of his documents. Henry instantly lowered his quill and silently eyed his wife traversing his chambers. She was only dressed in her robe and went to one of the comfortable upholstered chairs, all the time deliberately ignoring her husband's presence.
Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of her bath and to Henry's secret joy her long, still-damp hair cascaded Catherine's narrow shoulders and back. Her lady positioned herself behind her mistress and started to carefully comb her hair. Then she tressed her locks into one thick braid.

"Okay, you can go now," Henry said after the girl had finished her work. The nervous lady made a curtsey and hastily left the royal chamber.
"Henry! I'm not done yet, I still need her assistance to get dressed."
"There's no need to get dressed since you're going to bed," he retorted while getting up from his chair.
"I'm certainly not going to sleep right now. It's not even noon yet!" Her outrage was clearly written all over Catherine's face and Henry sighed in annoyance. Well, it was his very own fault. Why in God's name did he have to assume that she would follow his instructions without backtalk just once?

"You just went through some emotionally and physically demanding days and I want you to rest for a few hours, regardless of the time of day," he said with a mild tone in his voice.
"Not even you can force someone to sleep when he's not tired," she replied defiantly, raising from her chair as well. Before she could sidestep him, Henry gently grabbed her right upper arm.
"Tired or not. You are completely exhausted, so you will lie down for at least three hours. You've heard Nostradamus and the doctor. You need bed rest. And either you go to bed by yourself or I will carry you. That's up to you."

Catherine made a scornful sound and glared at him angrily.
"I can very well assess if and when my body needs sleep. My bath was very relaxing and currently I'm doing great. Thanks for asking." Henry straightened his shoulders at this answer, then he pulled his wife closer and scooped her up for the third time that day to carry her to his bed.
"I don't care, Catherine. You're going to lay down. Either you sleep or you do not sleep – suit yourself. But you will rest now."
Like the last times his petulant wife struggled against his grip but Henry was tired of her reluctance and threw her onto the bed. Grimly, he freed the blanket and spread it over Catherine.
"I'm not going to sleep in the very same bed where you and Diane..." Henry did not let her finish but pressed her back into the pillows with his body weight and brought his face so close to hers that he could feel her hot breath on his skin.
"I'm sick of this discussion. If you want to see your children this afternoon, then you'd better be obedient for once."

Henry knew damn well that he had pulled and played his last ace. He didn't want to blackmail her, but obviously there was no cure for her stubbornness and after all the end justified the means.
"You're a ..."
"Worried husband and father. Sleep well, Catherine," he interrupted her once again while adjusting the coverlet one last time. Then Henry returned to his desk. After taking his seat, he cast a cautious glance in her direction.
She had rolled herself into a small ball on the very edge of his bed and draped the blanket over her body in a way that blocked him from getting a look at her face. Apparently his wife was pouting. But as long as she was hors de combat for a few hours that allowed her body some much needed rest, she could sulk as much as she wanted.

"You're staring at me," she complained after a few minutes where his eyes had indeed rested on her motionless form.
"Then close your eyes," he advised her and wrote a few words before he lowered his quill once again to keep on observing his wife.
"I can still feel your eyes lingering," her voice broke the silence again.
"You must be imagining it. I'm wholeheartedly attending to my correspondence." In order not to belie his own words Henry actually forced himself to continue writing. After a few minutes, however, he caught his eyes wandering back to his bed and his resting wife. Just at that moment she pulled back the covers and her eyes caught him staring at her.
"Attending to your correspondence, mhm?!"

Without breaking their eye contact, the King got up again and slowly walked towards her. Before he reached his bed, she cut their contact by demonstratively turning her back to him. Nonetheless,he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and looked thoughtfully at the back of his wife's head. Following a strange urge he lifted his hand as if to reach out for her but stopped his motion a few millimeters before he could actually touch her.
Catherine looked so small and lost in his big bed and the slight tremor that emanated from her shoulders down to her back startled him. What was she feeling that very moment? He couldn't exactly tell, he just sensed that it was something other than the omnipresent rage or indifference she always displayed so open and blithely when it came to his person.

Reluctantly he gave in to the urge to touch her and gently stroked the delicate skin of her neck that was so invitingly exposed under her braid. He felt Catherine stiffen under his touch and he almost pulled his hand away but something kept him from doing so. Therefore he ran his fingertips gently down her neck and then let them slid down her spine and up again.
"Henry?" She just whispered his name. It wasn't an order to stop immediately or to keep his hands off of her – just his name. It sounded more like a question and in fact he asked himself what exactly it was he was doing right now. He couldn't tell but he did not stop either.

And while his fingers gently caressed her back, sweet memories suddenly awoke in him. Memories of a better, happier time. Memories that had been considered forgotten for a long time. Where she had voluntarily shared chambers with him and was susceptible to his touches. She used to fall asleep in his arms every night and they had both been drunk with happiness and love. He had loved touching her, even after collapsing on her body after their frenetic lovemaking, feeling completely exhausted, he had not been able to keep his hands off of her. That was the time when their childlessness had not yet opened the door to despair.

He had known everything about her body. Knew how he had to touch her to elicit that wonderful little sound of pure ecstasy or where he had to kiss her to evoke that throaty moan that drove him absolutely crazy.

Back then he found out how much Catherine enjoyed his gentle caresses, even apart from their lovemaking. That his fingers, gently caressing her bare back, could relax his wife in minutes and put her to sleep. And that his affectionate touches were pure heart-balm for the little Italian orphan girl, who had experienced hell on earth since her early childhood.

Even now his touches did the necessary to gently lull his wife to relaxation. Her tense posture had already disappeared and she had given up any form of resistance while his hands brushed her warm back. She did not even stop him from pushing the blanket down a bit to be able to reach her lower back.
"Try to sleep," he whispered, not stopping his caress.
An inarticulate hum that sounded more approving than rejecting was her only answer.

How long had it been since he was so close to his wife? Too long, if he could not even remember. Yes, of course there had been nights of passion between them where he had also caressed her soft skin, their numerous children were the best proof, but that intimate, loving bond they had once shared had been solidified for ages. Henry wondered why, for he enjoyed this moment and almost wished he could glide his hands over her bare skin. And suddenly he realized, that the bond that once had been between there was still existing.

When his pinkie brushed her side, a languorous sigh escaped Catherine's throat. The very idea that she enjoyed his touch, that his hands could relax her so much that she could finally close her eyes and find some much needed rest, made him happy.

But a thought that suddenly came to him dampened his euphoria.
All these years where he had found entertainment and sexual release in his bed with various other women, Catherine had been lonely and alone.
Because he had believed her when she told him that Richard had been her one and only misconduct. And even if the thought that his former friend's hands had touched what was only his still angered him, he suddenly felt terrible in the knowledge that no one had caressed and held his wife for all these years.

And of all people it was him who accused her of being cold and unable to love! Where it would have been his job to hold and love his Catherine, to provide her with the emotional warmth that any husband should give his wife.
"Oh Chérie," he murmured desperately, placing an apologetical kiss on the back of her neck.

"I've been wondering all along if you've ever loved Richard," the question that had been bothering him since he'd found out about their little affair suddenly burst out of him. He briefly wondered if he had gone too far and considered retreating but to his surprise, Catherine reacted to his question.
"At that time I believed I was in love with him." Her voice was so low that he had to hold his breath to understand her words.
"And now?", he wanted to know and let his fingers dance over her neck's skin.
"Today I believe that I was in love with the idea of having someone who loves me unconditionally." At this revelation, his hands stopped shortly in their movement. It took him a moment to let her words sink in.
"Maybe it's time to leave the past behind and focus on our future instead. I'll try to be a better husband." And even as he spoke those words, he vowed to actually walk the talk. Because maybe it was time to trade this exhausting, disturbing against each other for a with each other.

For one thing he had painfully realized in these last few days. He didn't nearly feel as indifferent towards his wife he always wanted to make her and others believe. Catherine might be difficult, annoying and unmanageable at times, yet the feelings he had developed for her at the beginning of their marriage were still there. Hidden and repressed maybe, but the sight of his wife kneeling in front of the deathsman or nearly choking her life out on the cold dungeon floor had dragged all these feelings back to the surface.
The idea that another man had intimately touched his wife still did anything but please him, but the thought that Catherine might lose her life for that misconduct was unbearable.

"Henry, save your breath. Whatever has been between us, you killed it the very moment you let me kneel in front of the scaffold. You may imprison me, force me to share chambers with you, you can even command me to lie down and rest but do not expect me to regard our marriage as anything other than it really is. A farce." Catherine eluded his touch by fleeing to the middle of the bed and out of his reach.

Henry stared helplessly at the small form of his wife. He knew that he did everything to earn her rejection and yet her decline hurt him more than he would have ever expected.

I neverget tired of thanking you for your fantastic feedback. I'm so happy that I can share this wonderful fandom with you, my dears. Thank you and have fun with this new chapter.