Like Fire and Powder (Violent Delights Book 18)

Chapter 14: the engagement according to Elizabeth of York

I don't see Henry for a couple of days. Christmas is nearly upon us, and all of Windsor is cautiously becoming cheerful. We've had a regime change, some general murder. Rather typical for England, but even so. I think everyone is ready to enjoy themselves when the fast ends.  Parliament has finally let out, and as I understand Henry is moderately pleased with all of that. But he also hasn't been around.
So I'm surprised when he summons me for a late supper, and then isn't there when I arrive. I consider bringing Cecily because I'm going to be cross if he thinks he can vanish for a week nearly and then just summon me up to kiss him. But then I do actually want to kiss him so I come alone.
Henry arrives a few minutes after I do, holding a spaniel puppy. A little, mostly white fluffy baby with fat speckled feet and soft yellow ears.
"Oh he's precious," I say, holding out my hands.
"Don't mention it, as in maybe don't bring it up people don't need to know you have him, my uncle is people," Henry says, for whatever reason, handing over the puppy.
"What's his name?" I ask, as the puppy cuddles against my chest.
"I've just been calling him 'stop biting my fingers damn you'," Henry says, going to pour us some wine.
"I love dogs, thank you," I say, kissing the puppy's head, "Is this my new year's present?"
"No actually, that's a bit better than a puppy," he says.
"Nothing is better than a puppy," I say, coming to sit down with him, "Is this an apology for not speaking to me all week?"
"No, but this is. Sorry I've not been about," he smiles.
"Accepted, I know you're busy," I say, setting down the puppy on the floor. It crawls over to chew on his boot.
"I have good news though, actually. How do you feel about marrying, the end of January? The eighteenth to be specific?" He asks, "The dispensation should be back by then and—then we can start getting ready. You need to choose fabric for a dress, and your ladies, that kind of thing."
"Yes, I mean that's good," I say, surprised. I knew he was hoping for before Lent.
"You all right? With that? If not we can delay it," he says.
"No, no, it just all seems very real, and public," I say.
"I mean, yes, however," he holds my hand, "We're still us. It's just another role to play."
"Yes, all my life has been playing that role," I say. I'm not used to having a secret us. I'd found I quite liked it.
And I don't fully know how to articulate that to him and my apprehension. It takes a couple of days for me to put it fully straight in my mind. When I finally do sort out my concerns I send Henry a note asking him to dine with me, alone, in the chambers adjoining my room. Cecily by now is nearly overcoming her horror at my deepening romantic attachment, and absents herself to another room.
"If this is about the cats I am no longer related to my uncle," is how Henry chooses to enter a room, very calmly, already drinking a cup of wine.
"What?" I say.
"Oh so you don't—it's not about that all right it sounded upset—,"
"What cats?"
"It really doesn't—,"
"No, I want to know now."
"When I was a boy people often thought I had the plague, including my uncle for a little while, because I have such illnesses but I'm well and cats do carry plague."
"Oh my god he killed the cats?" I breath.
"I doubt he did it personally they are gone and I blame him, it's different, what did you need to say?" He asks, nicely.
"I don't care now that you said all the cats are dead!" I cry, upset.
"I just blame him for things and he's usually guilty. It's fine, they may be alive, I'll get you another spaniel," he says.
"You can't distract me from—wait really? Can I have three?" I ask.
"Why?" He frowns.
I hug the puppy, "To cuddle."
He shrugs.
"Also I like hunting with them."
"You—,"
"Bow hunt, yes."
"Your father let you do that?"
"No. 'Let' is a strong word. It wound up happening my uncles were more under the 'sure why not the kid wouldn't get me in trouble with my brother' theory," I say, "Do you know how to bow hunt?"
"Yes," he nods slowly.
"Oh you did it for actual food you needed didn't you?" I ask.
He nods.
"We'll hunt together come spring, how about that?" I ask.
"I don't know if I fancy it."
"You'll breath fine and if you're not we'll kiss behind trees."
"Let's do it," he smiles.
"That's not what I came here to talk about, though. You distracted me," I say, petting the puppy.
"Guilty," he nods.
"I need to talk about us, and the wedding," I say.
"Oh my god you're joining a nunnery," he says, his breathing starting to speed up and not at all effectively.
"No. I just said I'd go hunting in the spring with you, let me get this out," I say.
"I'm sorry, go on," he says, sweating.
"I—all my life I've had to be the princess. I've had to be perfect. For a while my father said I might be his heir. I did nothing but lessons, I had to be locked away safe, often locked up. Because I'm everyone's princess," I say, "My hair had to be perfect, I was dressed up to match my mother, dressed up in fine clothes I couldn't spoil, like I was a little doll, for as long as I can remember. I can't recall a time I wasn't supposed to be married to somebody and so I had to be preparing for that as well so I could be sold. For England, for the country, for the people. Smiling and waving my entire childhood on display. I know for you it's the opposite you were hiding who you were. So it doesn't feel the same."
"Of course not but I still understand—I try not to forget that this is your world, and has been far longer than mine," he says.
"That's the point. I am fine with it. I'm used to it, I can do it and I will. I want to help you in fact," I say, "But—I also like this. Us. What has been us for the last few weeks, well months, since we first kissed. I like being our secret, we are too important to share with them. And yes I know we're going to married but—I'm glad our first kiss was in the snow behind the barn in the middle of talking. I don't want—," I feel my cheeks going red, "I don't want you to have me on our wedding night for all the world to know. That their princess is finally deflowered. After I've been on parade for everyone all day."
He reaches out and puts a hand on my cheek, gently, "All right."
"Just lie with me now, before Lent, before the wedding, I want you you're marrying me it's not, something should be mine," I say.
"Wait—what?" He begins breathing oddly again.
"Oh you thought I meant wait? Absolutely not I already dream of you, come here, you're fine," I pat him as he starts coughing. "Also I want you to be able to function on our wedding day and based off this reaction you might have issues."
"Very good point," he breaths, "No, sorry. You're right. I'm not going to deny you—hardly. I just—are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure," I say, caressing his face, "So long as none of your loyal servants come knocking on the door, we're good."
"Still time to join a nunnery."
"Just kiss me," I say, smiling.
He obeys, carefully cradling my face in his hands. After savoring my mouth a long moment he shifts instead to kiss my cheek, then down my neck.
"I've told Cecily I want to be alone tonight. And I've sent away the servants," I say, stroking his hair gently.
"Am I being kidnapped?" He asked, smiling that damn smile. The rogue one, that's terribly charming and he doesn't even know it.
"Do you want to be?" I ask, feeling myself grin.
"Naturally," he says, kissing me again. Then he rises, and picks me up in his arms. I'm taller than he is so I didn't know he could do that.
"Have you done this before?" I laugh.
"You think I stopped breathing for a minute because I've done this before?" he laughs, bending his head against mine, "We must take confession very very separately."
"You're not a sin, Henry," I say, kissing him.
He carries me back to my room, carefully laying me on the bed, before shutting the door. It's late so the firelight glows on his skin, casting long shadows across the bed. I undo the ties on my dress and he moves over to carefully slide it from my shoulders, kissing my mouth as he doesn't dare to watch the dress slip down to my waist.
"Promise me this is what you want?" He asks, gently cupping a hand to my cheek.
"Yes," I say, slipping fully from the dress.
"I don't want to hurt you," he says, very softly, tipping his face against mine.
"You will not," I say, sliding a hand up his leg.
He takes off his tunic, carefully laying it on a chair. It was fine cloth, he doesn't drop it to the floor like other men would. He moves my dress as well, taking it for me as I slip out of my white underthings to wrap up in a blanket. It's cold despite the fire. There's snow coming down outside and a fierce wind.
Henry finishes putting his clothes on a chair before turning to look at me. His chest is sunken as though he really is ill, but there's lumpy muscles in his arms and belly. Not like the knights, no, practical, the arm he draws a bow with, the one he uses for his sword arm. His hands are rough with callouses, and he bears the odd scar. One long one down his ribs. Another by his knee. A few fresh bruises but one severe near dent in his shoulder.
"Falling down," he smiles, tapping his shoulder, "A rampart."
"Where?"
"Brittany," he says, smiling a bit, as he crawls in beside me, my hair is loose and he gently tucks a hand into it, "When you tell me to go I will. I will not be angry, you tell me to leave your bed and I shall. That's true when we are married."
"I don't think that's going to happen," I say, wondering at his quiet hesitation. Something his mother or uncle told him about being married? I don't know. And whatever it is I doubt if he would tell me since he's not explaining it.
"Well, I think I like it here," he smiles, pressing his forehead against mine, "Kiss me?"
I obey, very gently taking him in my arms. His skin is hot, nearly feverish, but he shivers at my touch as he carefully leans into me. He moves the blanket over us as we lie back in bed, slowly entwining in the other's arms.