20 May, 1369. St Ivan's Palace, Havietten.
She really couldn't afford to wait much longer.
Celia knew for her own safety and that of her baby, she needed to tell Tobin she was finally pregnant.
She planned to tell him that very afternoon, before they had to head down to the hall for dinner.
Celia had made her decision the night before. She'd left Tobin's forest picnic reasonably early but her husband had stayed out carousing until late with his friends and lord knew who else. He'd missed dinner entirely and had only returned to their bedchamber well after dark.
Celia had been asleep when he'd climbed into bed and started fumbling roughly with her breasts. The moment she'd opened her eyes and realised it was Tobin's touch that had woken her, she'd been struck by a wave of revulsion unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Her skin crawled.
