Not Angry…

"And you have no problem with my following the king's orders?" Camilla asked uneasily, aware of the insistent, unpleasant twinge growing in her belly.

"Why would I?"

"Oh, I don't know! Perhaps because you usually hate it when I dance with other men, practice archery with other men, talk or breathe or think near other men…"

"I really don't think I'm as bad as you describe me." William flushed defensively.

Camilla bit her lip to stop herself laughing out loud at his ridiculous words. "Alright then. Let's pretend that's the truth."

He rubbed his forehead in confusion. "In this situation, I'm not troubled by you trying to lure Lord Michal to our cause. And that's because I don't really think of the marquis as competition for your attention." William smirked. "I'd like to think I can hold my own in your eyes against a fat, miserable older man."