“I…well…”
Hearing my floundering, Beau finally looks over. He goes still, his mouth parting just slightly. I forget the king’s question as our eyes meet, and I flush, suddenly self-conscious of the modern cut of the gown, the way it dips lower than I’m used to and tugs in so very tightly at my waist.
The way Beau’s looking at me almost…well, it almost seems as if…
“What does it matter?” Kerrick asks his father, his back to Beau so he thankfully doesn’t witness the exchange. “She’s here now.” The prince’s smile is a little indulgent, but he’s mostly irritated with his father’s line of questioning. Before the king can say anything else, Kerrick extends his arm. “May I take you on a tour, Suzette? Show you the gardens, perhaps?”
I jump at the chance to be away from the king’s curious gaze. Still slightly unnerved, I avoid Beau as Kerrick leads me away.
With a nod of the prince’s head, the people loitering in the garden make themselves scarce. As soon as we’re alone, Kerrick turns to me and lets out a deep breath. Though he appears relieved for the moment, his shoulders remain tense.
“I watched the whole thing unfold before my eyes,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down my exposed lower arms as if he thinks I’m cold, “and I still don’t quite understand how it is that you’re here.”
“I don’t either.” I let my gaze wander to a bed of deep red roses at the edge of the garden. “And I’m afraid I’m going to be found out at any moment.”
Kerrick murmurs his agreement, but he seems distracted. His hands go still on my arms when the sound of a gardener nearby reaches our ears. Too easily spooked, we stay like this, frozen, but the footsteps fade away. After several minutes, the prince gently tilts my chin toward him, reclaiming my attention. “I am glad you’re here.”
It feels as if it’s been so long since Kerrick’s touched me, though in truth it was only a month ago that we parted. Not that long, really, but his hands feel foreign. Smiling, I step back and pretend to study a tall rosemary plant to my left.
How many girls has the prince escorted through these very garden paths? How many princesses, just like Sabine, has he had on his arm in this short time since we said our goodbyes?
On that train of thought, I say, “Sabine has been here for quite some time.” I watch a large, fat bee rise from one flower, circle the buttercup next to it several times, and then sink into the yellow center. “I thought you said she was only one in a parade of girls.”
Kerrick clears his throat, uncomfortable. “My father is fond of her.”
I nod.
“But I think he’s fonder of you.” Kerrick sets his hand on my shoulder. “In fact, perhaps I should be concerned that he’ll want to keep you for himself.”
Unable to help myself, I laugh. Kerrick knows very well that the king, though extremely attentive, has certainly not shown any of that kind of interest.
“Since we’re on the subject of people who are fond of you,” the prince continues, “why is Beau here?”
The way Kerrick phrases the question takes me by surprise. And I don’t have an answer for him. Ever since Beau came to Rynvale the first time with Puss, he’s dedicated himself to the plan. How does he benefit? His chocolate shop has been closed more than it’s been open.
Is he that eager to see me marry Kerrick? Does he think, perhaps, that I’ll compensate him once I’m queen?
“He’s only a friend,” I say. “And I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for his help.”
Kerrick’s brow wrinkles, but he doesn’t argue or ask me to send the chocolatier away.
“There you are!” Sabine calls from the entrance.
With Beau on her arm, the princess sweeps into the garden. Her gown is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. The pink fabric shimmers in the sunlight, and the skirt is so full, I have no idea how she fits through a doorway. Her little dog trails behind her, obviously terrified of wandering too far from her voluminous skirts.
Kerrick steps forward to greet her, obviously relieved that she’s arrived to end the tense conversation. She frees Beau and clasps the prince’s hands before she gives him a chastising look. “You mustn’t overtire Suzette. I’m sure she’s exhausted.”
Not looking back at me, Kerrick nods.
While the two are preoccupied, I step near Beau and whisper, “Eugene will panic when I don’t return tonight.”
“I’ve already ridden to Glenridge and back while you were ‘resting.’”
Surprised, I ask, “How did—”
I stop abruptly when I notice that Kerrick’s staring at the two of us, his eyes slightly narrowed.
“How are you feeling?” Sabine turns her attention to me and wrinkles her brow, overly concerned. “No one will think any less of you if you decide to retire to your room for the evening.”
I glance at Kerrick, who’s still wearing that odd expression. Slowly, I nod. “I am, quite suddenly, very tired. I think it might be for the best.”
The princess nods, sympathetic. “Of course. I’ll make sure someone brings your dinner to your rooms.”
If she wasn’t smiling so sweetly, I would swear she was trying to get rid of me for the evening. But she just watches me with her violet eyes, looking as innocent as a fawn.
“I’ll walk you,” Beau offers, already stepping forward.
Kerrick immediately tenses. “That’s all right. I’ll take the marquise.”
Beau’s gaze goes between us, but after several seconds, he steps back and shrugs as if indifferent. “Of course.”
The prince takes my arm, but he lingers in the garden for several minutes more, talking to Sabine about the gazebo she requested be fitted with a sunshade. I take the time to subtly turn my attention to Beau. My eyes run over his hair, which is in desperate need of a trim. I study the width of his shoulders and the impatient way he drums his fingers on his leg.
I wait for the slight stir of butterflies that I felt earlier, but my stomach is quite at ease.
Kerrick finishes his conversation. With a relieved sigh, I look away from Beau and allow the prince to escort me to my room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I stand on my balcony and look out past the city. The moon has just risen. It’s almost full tonight, and it illuminates the countryside in silver light. I’ve never been up this high, never seen the land like this. In the moonlight, the forest is black, the meadows are gray, and the creeks and a nearby lake twinkle like stars.
The world looks so vast from up here. Standing here, looking at this small sliver of the kingdom, makes me realize there’s so little I’ve seen.
“It’s not very becoming of a lady to stand on her balcony dressed only in her shift,” Puss says from behind me.
Rolling my eyes, I step inside and lock the door behind me. “There was no one about, cat.”
“That you know of.”
Earlier, as the day faded into night, my panic began to grow. There’s no way I won’t be found out. I have no way to prove the title that Puss made up. At best, I will be sent back to the mill, forgotten and never heard from again. At worst, I may find myself in the stocks, possibly the dungeons.
Fear rises in my chest, and I take a deep breath.
I rub my throbbing temples and glare at Puss. “They’re going to find us out.”
“They won’t.” The cat stretches on the bed.
Taking a step closer, I say, “They will! I don’t know how to be a marquise. I’m going to make a misstep somewhere, and it’s going to end badly for all of us. The king is already questioning me.”
Unconcerned, Puss yawns and then closes his eyes, informing me that this conversation is over.
I pace back and forth, nervous. I can’t share my concerns with Kerrick; he’s already too uneasy. I can’t speak with Beau because Kerrick never leaves us alone. I don’t even know where the chocolatier’s staying. They could have put him in the servant’s quarters for all I know. Though surely they wouldn’t. He has more right to
be here than I do.
At least, I think he does. I still know very little about him.
A quiet knock sounds at my balcony door, and I jump. My pulse skips and then begins to race. We’re several stories in the air, and there are no stairs that lead to the ground. I must be hearing things. I begin to relax marginally until there’s another knock.
I glance at Puss, unsure what to do. The cat’s slept through the noise. My crossbow’s still somewhere near the creek where I left it. Even if I had it, I’m not sure I could actually shoot someone. And what if it’s not a “someone” at all? Perhaps it’s only a hobgoblin, bored in the kitchens and amusing itself by playing tricks on me. But what if it’s something more sinister…
Should I run into the hall, find a guard? Ignore the knock and hope whatever it is goes away?
“Etta!” a voice on the other side calls.
Immediately, feeling ridiculous, I pull on a dressing robe, unlock the doors, and swing them open. Beau stands on the balcony, arms crossed. A slow smile builds on his face, the teasing type that’s just crooked enough to be endearing. And, so help me, my heart stutters, just like it did earlier.
I stand here, gaping at him.
“Do you think you might invite me in?” he asks, his voice rich with suppressed laughter. “Or should I stand here at the threshold?”
“Oh!” I say when I realize I’m blocking the doorway, staring at him. I step aside. “Of course.” Before I close the door, I, again, peer out at the balcony. “How did you get out there?”
Beau leans a hip against the settee and points a thumb toward the door. “I climbed the lattice from the terrace below.”
“But why?”
He frowns, not paying me much attention, and studies a book on the end table. “I couldn’t convince anyone to tell me where they’d placed you. When I saw you on the balcony, I figured this was the easiest way to see you.”
I glance out the window. The terrace is three stories down. The lattice is most assuredly not the easiest way. I give him a pointed look.
Beau answers my silent question with a shrug. He opens the book’s cover and thumbs through the first few pages. “That, and I didn’t think you wanted your prince to know I made a midnight visit.”
The words, though spoken lightly, hang between us, thickening the air.
When I don’t answer, Beau flips the book closed and looks at me. “What is it? You look like you’ve swallowed a toad.”
I let out a long sigh. “It’s just been a long day. My mind is all jumbled.”
“You need sleep,” he says.
Feeling listless, I nod.
“Are you all right?” He frowns. It takes him three steps to close the distance between us. Once he reaches me, he presses his palm to my forehead. “That creek water must have been frigid.”
I go still under Beau’s hand, and my gaze meets his. My breath catches, and I sense the moment he notices. His eyes widen marginally, and his fingers jump against my skin. Then, as if I’ve burned him, he takes an abrupt step backward and clears his throat.
An awkward silence stretches between us.
“Take me home, Beau,” I say after several moments. Turning from him, I study an upholstered chair. The pale silk is cool to the touch, and I trace my finger over the silver threads that have been woven into the fabric. “I don’t belong here.”
Beau shakes his head, looking muddled. “Take you home? We just got here.”
“I’m living a lie, and I hate it. I’d rather spend all my life in the loft of Eugene’s cottage than pretend I’m someone I’m not.”
He seems to think my words over, and indecision shadows his expression. After several long heartbeats, he says, “You’ll feel better in the morning. Sleep on it, Etta.”
“You think I should stay?” I ask, somewhat startled.
With Kerrick.
It’s unspoken, but the words linger between us.
Slowly, expressionless, Beau nods. “Of course I think you should stay.”
“They’re going to find out!” I whirl around. “How couldn’t they? The Carabas name means nothing.”
He looks at the carpet and then glances back at me from the corner of his eye. “That’s not exactly true.”
“What do you mean?”
“You should sit,” he says as he directs me to the bench.
After drawing in a deep breath, Beau explains.
“Are you telling me”—I poke a finger at his chest—“that you shared all this with the cat but not with me?”
Helpless, he attempts to smile. “I’m telling you now.”
I run a hand through my loose hair and clench my eyes shut. “That explains why you’re helping me. Because you need Puss to take you to your family’s estate.” I open my eyes. “I’m using your family name! Why are you allowing that?”
He leans forward, his expression earnest. “I’ve thought this through, and it works well, actually. I plan on going back to the sea as soon as I’ve cleared up this unfortunate ogre situation, and you need somewhere to live. Pose as the marquise. Be the marquise. You’ll have everything you could ever need or want, and you can choose whomever you want to marry instead of picking the most convenient person.”
Blinking a little too fast, I sink farther into the bench. “You are leaving.”
“I, well…yes, that’s my plan.” For a moment I think he’s going to reach out, but then he crosses his arms tightly against his chest.
Slowly, my surprise morphs into irritation. “And you’ll just give me your family’s name and estate?”
“Not give, exactly. More like leave you as a caretaker.”
Overwhelmed, I stand and toss my hands in the air. “Why even bother with the ogre if your land means so little to you? Why didn’t you just stay at sea?”
Beau winces at my tone, which is not altogether cordial. “It’s my family home, Etta. I cannot allow it to be overrun with vile beasts.” He stands and sets a tentative hand on my arm. “This was important to my father. He didn’t have a chance to tend to it before he passed. But I intend to.”
I wait several moments, studying Beau, before I say, “I would have helped you without the deception.”
“It was more of an omission.” A smile plays at his lips. “And here I thought I was helping you.”
And just like that, my anger slips away. “Fine. We’ll stay here tomorrow, just as we said we would. And when we leave, we will force Puss to take us to your land.”
“Thank you, Etta,” he says, his voice quiet in the still room.
I shrug one shoulder and turn away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “Of course.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sabine and I have embroidered for hours—literally, from the time we finished breakfast, stopping only briefly for tea, and then we resumed after lunch. The princess doesn’t seem to notice the day passing us by, but I take frequent glances out the window, wishing I were outside. This is as tortuous as mending all day.
“Your stitches are very precise,” Sabine says as she peeks at my work.
By ‘precise,’ she probably means ‘simplistic.’ Though my mother taught me needlework when I was little, it’s not an art I’ve had much time to practice in the last few years. I use the most basic stitches, making a few meandering leaves and stems over my handkerchief. I’ve already knotted my thread more times than I can count, and every time I have to flip the piece over and untangle it, Sabine’s brow creases ever so slightly, and she looks confused as to why I’m having so much trouble with it.
Another fifteen minutes. Another glance out the window.
This time, there’s something more interesting to look at than the gardens.
“What are they doing?” I ask Sabine as I stand to get a better look at Kerrick and Beau.
Sabine finally sets her embroidery aside to join me and smiles radiantly. “They’re going to play court tennis.”
I want to ask her what that is, but since Beau obviously knows, I don’t dare
ask.
“Let’s go watch them,” she says.
Glad to leave my handkerchief behind, I follow Sabine through the castle and to the gardens. When the servants see us coming, chairs and a sunshade immediately materialize. Autumn flowers sit on the tiny table between us, a lovely assortment of orange and purple chrysanthemums.
“Tea, mademoiselles?” a maid asks. “Something cool, perhaps?”
Sabine fluffs out her huge skirts—sunshine yellow today, scoops her little dog onto her lap, and scratches him under his chin. “Tea would be lovely.”
I nod in agreement, and the girl rushes off.
A net has been stretched out, and the men stand on opposite sides. A roofed garden wall looms to the left, and both Kerrick and Beau hold a racket. The men smile when they see us, but they’re obviously too consumed with thoughts of besting the other to come over.
Sabine, sensing that the game is foreign to me, quietly explains the rules as we watch. They play with a palm-sized cork ball, which they knock back and forth with the rackets. Beau, despite Kerrick’s best efforts, seems to be winning.
“I want to try it,” I say to Sabine.
She laughs out loud. “It’s a man’s sport.”
I’d rather be here than inside, stitching more leaves, but the game loses some of its appeal when I realize I’m stuck on the sidelines.
The match, which started out as somewhat friendly, progressively becomes more competitive. In the heat of the late afternoon, the men roll up their sleeves. Sweat glistens from their brows and servants bring them water each time they pause.
Rolling a napkin in my lap, I say to Sabine, “They’re taking this rather seriously, aren’t—”
Before I can finish the words, Beau hits a stray ball back with force. Kerrick, expecting Beau to have missed, doesn’t move quickly enough, and the cork ball collides with his face. The prince drops his racket and stumbles back, holding a hand over the injury. Obviously in a great deal of pain, he lowers himself onto a nearby stone bench.
Puss without Boots: A Puss in Boots Retelling (Fairy Tale Kingdoms Book 1) Page 12
