Princess Freckles

42. Ale Sucks

Chammielle woke with a blinding headache. The events of the night before a bit fuzzy. Her body ached and she couldn't even think.

She dragged herself from bed, wearing her linen chemise and tottered to the washroom. Her hands scrubbed over her face with cold water and soap, and then she felt odd. Quickly she turned to the flushing chamber pot and vomited.

"Chammielle...are you alright?"

"Ugh, don't come in here..."

The door clicked open and cool hands pulled her hair back from her face. She wanted to thank him but another wave of nausea struck her.

"Remind me never to buy you a third flaggon of ale so long as we live."

She laughed hoarsely and cleaned off her mouth. He steadied her and helped her to her feet.

"You, my dear, simply cannot hold strong drink. It really makes you do interesting things..."

A flash of what they'd been up to the night before came to her and her cheeks went red.

"Will...you didn't..."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek.

"I did and you loved it. You kept calling my name over and over and over. Though you did manage to call me Bill the whole time, but that made it feel just that much more naughty. Very encouraging."

She covered her face with her hands.

"Can I not kiss every part of my wife?"

She mumbled through her hands.

"Naughtn pubwic..."

"Hmm?"

He nuzzled her neck and chuckled. Kissing and nibbling on her. She groaned.

"You're not feeling well. Back into bed with you. I'll make us some nice tea and some breakfast. We are fully stocked."

She peered at him as he ushered her back to the bed.

"You can cook?"

"I can fry an egg and sausage well enough. But don't come running if you think I'm burning something. The chimney is just that bad I'm afraid."

He tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

"Get some rest. I'll bring it up when it's ready."

She closed her eyes and wished for the pounding to leave her. No such luck in that. So instead, she decided to distract herself.

But visions of the festival and William's newest form of affection for her came to mind.

Her face was as red as a tomato. She was certain. It was aglow like the red paper lanterns she'd seen dotting between all the blue and yellow and green ones. How could he do that?

She got tired of waiting and went back to the water closet to try and freshen up. There was a small mirror and she washed her hair in the hand basin. It was as if she was trying to scrub the red away. She wrung out her curls and piled them on top of her head, and then she saw it.

"Oh my..."

A bruise.

A great red and purple bruise. On her neck. Visible for all to see.

She heard his steps coming up the stairs and her embarrassment from earlier doubled.

"Oh, that is coming along nicely."

She glared at him and he smirked at her.

"How could you?!"

"I have always wanted to do that."