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king attacks from the south and west of France, Philip will be caught between two fires. |
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There was a short silence. Geoffrey's expression was abstracted but his mouth was slightly curved as if what he contemplated was rather pleasant. Joanna could not see his full face, but from the line of jaw and lip she knew he was no longer tense. A wave of resentment passed over her. |
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"You will go if the king summons you for a war with France?" she asked quietly. |
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"Oh yes, most gladly. It would serve many purposes." |
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"Even if it leaves England naked to whomever wishes to attack?" |
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Geoffrey bent his head to look down at her. "Who would be left to attack England? Philip will be busy enough. Boulogne will either be allied with us, if the men are faithful to Renaud, or under Philip's command. No one else has any claim on England. Besides, many will not go. There will be men enough to defend this land. |
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The answer was logical and perfectly true, but it brought no comfort to Joanna. She had not been thinking of the danger to England. That was only an excuse to protest Geoffrey's eager acceptance of still another war. |
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"If your hopes are satisfied," she said tightly, "I am likely to be a widow before I am a wife." |
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Instead of replying, Geoffrey bent his head still further and kissed her. He had meant to offer comfort and reassurance, but in a moment he was quite ready to put aside all matters of state. War and rebellion could wait a while; this was a more important matter to which he must attend. Remembering how he had sensed her indifference in the garden at Whitechurch, Joanna resolved not to respond to him. It was not, she discovered to her surprise, a thing one could decide with one's mind. Under the tender warmth of Geoffrey's mouth, her lips parted and grew fuller; her skin began to take on that tingling sensitivity which gave so much pleasure and was a precursor to a rush of warmth to the loins. Angrily, Joanna wrenched her head away and pulled herself free of Geoffrey's arms. |
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