When a maid of honor to the Queen is rescued by a handsome and contentious pirate, she has to spend three days aboard his ship before returning to court. But is three days time long enough to truly get to know someone? And is English court as diffic...
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Celia spent the days following the realization of her pregnancy keeping her head down. She went through her daily rituals; dressing the Queen, tending to the Queen, dining with the Queen, undressing the Queen, repeat. She spent the little free time she had reading books on the usage of mandrake, hoping to find something to aid her abortion, but since the act was taboo, there was not much on the subject.
Harry was nowhere to be seen around the palace. Occasionally, Elizabeth would speak of her meetings with the pirates, explaining how eager they were to serve her Majesty, but other than that, Celia had no contact with Harry. She assumed he was kept busy by Elizabeth's strategy for dealing with the Spanish pirates. Whatever the cause for his disappearance, she was grateful. Celia did not know how she could face him whilst keeping such a life changing matter from him.
Despite Celia's sudden shift in her personality, her lack of spunk and attitude, Beatrice's attributes kept quite the same. She struggled to keep her mouth shut as she and Luke furthered their courtship, always droning on about their outings to the gardens, or the many notes that he wrote for her. In all honesty, Celia did not mind. She was glad for her friend, knowing Luke to be a trustworthy and thoughtful man, which was something that could not be said for Lord Byron. Elizabeth also supported their sudden courtship, which took Celia by surprise, as she was known to be very particular for the possible spouse of her ladies in waiting.
It was the fifth day of not speaking to Harry when Celia was walking in the gardens with Elizabeth. The Queen spoke of finding a suitable man for Isabel to marry, as she knew their unusual situation, but Celia was suddenly stricken with nausea. Her stomach twisted and a lump rose in her throat, saliva gathering in her mouth. She clutched her gut with one hand and her lips with the other, dashing away from Elizabeth without warning.
Celia had planned on making it to the garderobe, but ended up vomiting in a bush by the exit of the garden. She heaved, her whole body lurching and sweat gathering on her forehead. Tears multiplied in her eyes as she spit out the acidic taste of vomit and wiped the saliva off of her lips with her sleeve. She finally stood upright and took in a deep breath, looking around and hoping that no one saw her. Unfortunately, a pair of green eyes were stuck on her, belonging to the one and only Harry Styles. She straightened her posture and pushed her shoulders back in an effort to play off her morning sickness as a mild ailment from foul food as Harry approached her, his eyes as thin as crescents.
"You're pregnant," he said immediately, his voice low and flat.
Celia could have sworn that, at that very moment, her heart stopped beating. She tried her best to keep her cool. "What?" she asked, pretending to be astonished by his accusation.
"Don't lie to me, Celia."
"I haven't any idea what you're talking about, Sir Harry. A bit of bad food is all. Perhaps the excitement of English court has gotten to you."
Celia attempted to walk past him, but he caught her elbow and pulled her back. He lowered his eyes to her's, and pierced her with his words as he said, "You forget that I was raised in a brothel." Celia avoided his gaze and swallowed hard. "Why didn't you tell me?" The crack in his voice as he spoke broke Celia's heart. Perhaps a pirate could have feelings after all.
"Not now, Harry," Celia said, her eyes scanning the gardens and catching a glimpse of Elizabeth nearing them. "The Queen is coming. Let me go." Harry released her arm as she jerked it away.
Elizabeth finally reached the two of them with her eyes full to the brim with concern and her thin brows stitched together. "Is everything okay, Celia?"
Celia dipped into a curtsey. "Your Majesty, please forgive me for running away. I feel a bit under the weather and seem to have eaten some bad food last night. I've been feeling nauseous."
She nodded and then turned to Harry, who bowed until she spoke to him. "And you, Sir Harry. Are you doing alright?"
"As well as my situation permits me to be," he replied.
"And what does that mean?" Elizabeth asked, confused and put off.
"Only that I'm not used to being on land for an extended period of time, your Grace."
"I see," she replied. "Will you please escort Mistress Celia to her chambers? I want her well rested and feeling better as soon as possible."
"I'm quite fine, your Majesty," Celia protested.
"I insist," Elizabeth said, holding up a hand. "A very special guest will be arriving at court in a few days time, and I need you well and by my side. Good day." Elizabeth smiled softly before leaving the garden and entering the palace, disappearing into the marvelous corridor.
Celia sighed and awkwardly pushed a stray ringlet behind her ear. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Celia interjected before any words could slip out. "Not here," she said sternly. "I think a walk along the shore would calm my nerves."
Harry nodded and glanced back at the palace, hoping that the Queen would be too occupied to notice Celia's absence from her chambers, and then took Celia's hand. The gesture was sudden and unexpected, but butterflies swarmed Celia's stomach as his warm hand intertwined with her own. She felt at ease almost instantly, which was unusual, but she did not pull away. His grip was tight but not powerful, just tight enough to give assurance to Celia that he was there; it was almost endearing.
Silence laced the air between them as they walked to the shoreline. The salty air filled their lungs and the melodic lapping of the waves against the sand engulfed their ears, sending them back to the Golden Tide in an instant. Harry suddenly dropped her hand and turned his back to her, facing the palace that sat over the hill as Celia faced the ocean.
The sunlight glittered on the surface of the ocean, entrancing Celia as the tumbling waves beckoned her to touch them. She complied, walking towards the edge of the water until her toes were shocked by the coolness of the liquid as it splashed against her feet. A smile wiped across her face and her eyelids fluttered shut as she inhaled deeply.
Harry's angered voice broke the peacefulness of the scenery as he shouted, "You were going to keep the existence of my own flesh and blood from me!"
Celia flinched at his tone. She began to open her mouth to calmly respond, but there was something about the salt in the air and the crashing waves in the distance that caused her to do otherwise. She spun around, the heel of her shoe crunching in the sand. "There would have been no need to keep it a secret because I would have been rid of it by tomorrow!"
Harry's features slumped, deep lines settling between his brows as his lips drooped. "What?" he breathed, the word coming out as a whisper.
"Mandrake is a common root that can be found in any kitchen. Mostly used to sooth ulcers, or for other medicinal usage; however, one of the many taboo uses for the root is aborting a child."
"You must be mad."
"If I am mad, then you are deranged." Harry laughed at her statement and pinched the bridge of his nose. Celia stalked over to him and pressed her pointer finger against his chest. "You of all people should know the burden of being a bastard!"
"Who said the child would be a bastard?"
Celia scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Have you not grasped your surroundings? You are not on the Golden Tide anymore—you are back on English soil! Any child born out of wedlock is dubbed a bastard. Perhaps the excitement of court has wiped your memory clean."
"I know full well the definition of bastard!" Harry shouted. "But our child would not be one if we were to marry." His tone had shifted from harsh and cold to somewhat gentle and warm. Celia parted her lips in shock as Harry dropped to his knees and placed his hands on Celia's stomach, his eyes shining as he looked up at her. "Marry me."
