Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 237: Superstitions

15 May, 1362. Magdaline Castle, Islia

William sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with his cuff links and running an impatient hand through his hair. He was waiting for Camilla to return to their apartments but she seemed to be taking a very long time.

"Well, fuck this." he growled to himself. "Do all brides take this long to get ready? No fucking wonder they all end up late to their own weddings."

Lady Meg Vere and his great friend Robin Sainsbury were to be married in only an hour and Camilla had been in Meg’s room all morning, allegedly helping the bride to get ready.

How long did such things take? What the hell were they doing in there for hours on end? William grumpily pushed his hand through his hair again, fairly sure it was a mess by now.

He wondered for a moment if he should go out looking for his wife. He stood up and was about to stride through the door when he stopped. He really didn’t need a group of angry ladies screaming at him and telling him to get out before he broke some hallowed superstition he didn’t even know about.

He sat down on the edge of the bed again and huffed in annoyance.

Women were extremely superstitious about weddings, William knew. He remembered the morning of his own wedding, he’d wanted to see Camilla. He just wanted to have a few quiet moments alone with her before they had to face the entire court crammed into the royal chapel.

The ladies-in-waiting had barred his path that day, refusing to listen to his very reasonable request. What he was asking for would apparently bring a lifetime of bad luck. Lady Katerine had even sweetly told him she wasn’t above tripping him and breaking his leg, if that would stop him from seeing his bride before she reached the altar.

William had eventually slunk away, cursing and with hands raised in weary defeat.

Then again, his wedding had brought an abundance of laughter and happiness to his life. Perhaps there was something to be said about paying attention to the silly superstitions after all.

After what felt like hours, Camilla finally returned to their apartments. William stood up in relief and scanned her with his eyes.

"Good lord! Is everything alright? I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back! What the fuck is Meg even doing for such a long time?" William blurted in a relieved tumble. "When we got married, all I did that morning was eat a bit, bathe and get dressed. I think I was even a little early to the chapel!"

Camilla rolled her eyes at him and spoke in a voice he now recognised she used when trying very, very hard to be patient. "William. You were not, nor will you ever be, a bride. So on these matters, your views don’t count for much."

He sulked. "I just don’t like you wandering around by yourself when you’re so close to your time. It makes me nervous."

"But I wasn’t by myself. I was with my ladies."

"What about when you walked between Meg’s room and here. You were alone then!" he pointed out, feeling justified.

Camilla made a sound like a hiccup crossed with a laugh. "That’s what you were worried about, husband? That in the very few moments when I was in the corridor alone, I’d go into labour and have the baby on the stone floor? And if I was lucky, one of the guards standing outside a door might’ve been forced to give me a hand?"

William crossed his arms defensively. "Well, it’s not impossible."

Camilla laughed outright. "William, my love. Babies don’t just slide out in a rush like that without warning. It would be lovely if they did, actually. But trust me, they don’t."

William continued glaring at her.

She blithely ignored his expression and stood on tip toes to give him a fond kiss on the lips. "You worry too much. Let me tidy your hair again. I don’t know what you’ve been doing with it but it looks like you’ve been dragged through a hedgerow."

William kept sulking while she carefully arranged his hair with her warm fingers, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Despite the way she made him worry by running out of his sight, he couldn’t resist when she fussed over him in that manner.

"All done!" Camilla kissed his mouth one last time and stepped back to look at him. "Oh, my. Don’t you look handsome? Even more so when you eventually stop pouting."

William raised a brow at her teasing. Despite her very cruel sense of humour, his wife looked incredible. Her gold tinged skin glowed, her eyes were bright and her hair gleamed in loose waves. Round, rosy breasts were pressed up firmly against the neckline of her violet coloured dress, making William’s mouth water.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled him gently towards him. In truth, he wanted to crush her along the length of his body but didn’t want to harm her very round belly. William kissed her neck and whispered, "Do we really have to go? Can’t we just stay here instead?"

Her laugh was as delightful to him as crystal wind chimes tinkling in a breeze. "I think our absence would be quite noticeable. Save that thought for later."

William swallowed hard. He would lie with her every day and every night if he could. But the little life that constantly kicked and thrummed under her skin, helped keep him somewhat in check. He was terrified of hurting her when she was so heavily with child. That and also because he saw her beauty now as, if not exactly untouchable, then as radiantly pristine. As if he shouldn’t be sullying it.

Goddamn, he thought feverishly. Once Camilla’s given birth and recovered, once she’s been purified by the church, I’m going to spend an entire week in bed with her. Other duties and responsibilities be damned.

"Shall we go then?" Camilla looked up at him with a smile.

"I suppose so, yes." William took her dainty hand in his and started walking towards the door. "And just so you know, I’m going for your sake, not theirs. Only because attending this wedding seems important to you."

"Oh, is that so?" Camilla side eyed him. "Not because the groom has been your companion since the nursery?"

William shrugged and grinned. "Robin would’ve forgiven me eventually for not showing up. Especially if I told him it was because I was busy bedding my wife. Any man would understand that."

Camilla looked at him flatly. He kissed the tip of her nose.

- - -

Despite his grumbling, William was glad he attended the wedding. The chapel was crammed with their mutual friends and the feast afterwards was full of merriment. Within a western courtyard decorated in spring flowers, there was dancing and music as everyone toasted to the wedded couple.

William was glad to see Robin’s mother, Lady Sainsbury, again. She was in high spirits, having already built a warm relationship with her new daughter-in-marriage. William also greeted Robin’s two younger sisters, who looked almost old enough to serve at court.

"I didn’t know your wife was so pretty, my lord." the younger sister said. "Even if she’s terribly fat at the moment."

"Mary!" Lady Sainsbury scolded her, looking appalled.

"Sorry." the young girl muttered, cheeks flaming red.

William gave a crack of laughter. "It’s quite alright, Mary. It’s a temporary thing. Come dance with me instead, before you say anything else. If you’re to join the court soon, you’ll have to make sure your dancing is at least adequate."

He led the young girl out towards the dance floor, glancing in Camilla’s direction. She was sitting at a table and talking with Francis and Anne Lowell, bouncing their baby daughter on her lap.

She looked up, caught William looking at her and smiled. He smiled back and gave her a little wave.

Mary Sainsbury looked up at him pertly. "Why aren’t you dancing with your wife? She won’t get angry if you dance with me, will she?"

William smirked. "I’m not dancing much with her because she tells me her back aches when she’s on her feet for too long. And no, she won’t be upset if I dance with you. Camilla isn’t the possessive kind."

"Are you the possessive kind, my lord?" Mary asked with the sharp, unfiltered curiosity of youth.

"You shouldn’t ask your elders inappropriate questions about their marriage, girl. It’ll just get you into a heap of trouble." he murmured, shifting his eyes away.

When the jaunty tune ended, William patted Mary Sainsbury’s head in the careless, affectionate way one might pat a kitten, before heading in the direction of the table Camilla was sitting at. He saw other ladies hesitantly exchanging glances around him, but he ignored them.

It was only the beauty in the violet gown that had any pull over him.