Like Fire and Powder (Violent Delights Book 18)

Chapter 16: the engagement according to House York and House Tudor

Elizabeth York

I wake up with the same sickness creeping through my stomach. I roll over, slowly, fighting the urge to vomit. Henry lies next to me, breathing unsteadily as ever, soft pale hair a mess from the pillow. I press my face into his back, trying to feel less ill.
It's a very good thing we marry in a week.
Morning sun filters in the windows. It's January 11, seven days to our wedding and I have not bled since before Christmas. Since before I first lay with him.
I'm carrying a child.
For the past week I've woken up so ill I have to vomit, or fight the urge. My breasts ache and feel tight in my bodice. And the stays in my dress are tight. I suspected for a few days before I didn't bleed. Now I can no longer deny it, not really. I can always try I just know I'm denying it.
And I feel completely insane. I'm unwed. Definitely pregnant. And in bed with a man I was sworn to hate. And I don't care. I'm ridiculously happy. And I'm so tired of all the reasons I should be angry and hate him. I don't want them. I want to be happy. I want to love him and love this child. So I am. I want to remain this happy. Forever.
"Oh god, why didn't you wake me?" Henry mumbles, shifting and realizing it's dawn.
"I was also asleep, till a moment ago," I say, hand on his bare back.
"Oh. Good reason," he smiles a little, "You all right?"
I should tell him.
"I'm fine," I lie, I feel terrible.
"I need to go. I'll see you at supper, all right?" He asks. It's dozens of people the wedding is in seven days. The wedding is in seven days.
"Yes, of course, yeah, you should go," I say, stroking a hand through his hair.
"Go back to sleep, you look tired," he says, frowning and cupping my cheek.
"I'm very well," I'm more than well. Well not really I'm very ill right now but I also can't bring myself to tell him. I know I need to but I'm very sick and he wouldn't leave and he does need to.
"Good," he kisses my cheek, then rises, sorting for his clothes laid neatly on the chair. It's still early. He should be able to slip back to his own room and his men are silent on where he spends the night and who with. He's fond enough of my bed but we've nothing against his or an unused room.
He slips out, quietly, looking back once more to smile. I smile back, not rising. I can't. I'll throw up.
I do rise once he's gone. I make it halfway across the room before I have to vomit. That doesn't make it better, not really, but it eases the illness long enough for me to make it to Cecily's room to crawl into her bed, miserable.
"You're mad," she says.
"I noticed, I'm beginning to enjoy it," I say.
"You realize if mother finds out she'll kill me too?" She asks, rolling over to look at me.
"We don't know I'm pregnant," I say.
She stares at me.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Have you bled?"
"No," I mutter.
"You're a week late and you're starving all the time and you throw up all the time," she says.
"We don't know," I lay a hand over my belly. For the past few days it's begun to feel puffy.
"You are getting fat," she says, poking my belly just below the navel, where it's a puffy roll of fat. Which was never there before, I've always been slim and flat bellied now it's a soft rounded lump.
"I'm not that fat," I say, quietly.
"Did you tell him?"
"No, I'm still in denial, I like it here," I say, rolling over to face her. The movement alone makes me ill.
"Let's get you up and dressed, and something to eat it helps," she sighs a little.
"I'm sorry I've gone mad," I say, softly, "But I like it here."
"Even if you're throwing up all morning?"
"Yeah, even then," I say, smiling a little.
Because I am. I'm glad this child is in me. I'm glad I'm going to the wedding carrying it. He got me with it, because he loves me, and he was in my bed because I invited him there. That is as it should be I think. God gave Eve to Adam, they didn't have a priest blessing their bed. And I'm happy, I feel so happy. I don't want it to stop. For the first time in my life, I would change nothing.
Except possibly how sick I feel I'd like to change that.
Cecily gets a damp cloth for my face as I vomit, and has the ladies bring us something to eat. I manage to eat dry bread, and then I finally have an appetite. I'm starving in fact. I've never been so hungry in my life as I have been these past few weeks. Cecily could be right I am getting fat.
My dress confirms that. I've not worn it since before Christmas, and the ladies quietly let out the stays a bit. More than a bit around my chest, which is sore and swollen, and just a bit now around my belly too, which is stubbornly puffy.
"If I'm just hungry for some reason and am getting fat," I mutter, to Cecily.
"Yeah that's why you've quit bleeding," she mutters back.
She's right and I know it. My main concern is my mother finding out over the next week. That's it. After the wedding I can be as pregnant as I like.  Right now I still must be the blushing bride. Always the perfect princess.