Did he really think his skill in bed was the deciding factor? "Cadence had a family at home. Her sister." With Melody in Wonderland as well, and the ability to leave a message to her parents, Cadence had been able to give up her old life on her return visit. Melody, in turn, had found out her parents would know where she was and hadn't let the guilt of not returning burden her heart. April had thought about their stories over and over while preparing for the ball. She'd found it all utterly fascinating, and what's more…it left her with hope. "I have nobody. But I might have you."
"Don't promise things you can't control." He tore his arms out of his shirt sleeves, abandoning the garment to the floor in a heap. She couldn't turn away from his bare skin, the lean and well-toned muscles of his arms and abdomen. Desperation choked him and he added, "I cannot bear to lose you when I finally found someone I believe was meant to be with me. I do not fear your company. My anxiety eases when you're here, with me."
She crossed the room and flung herself into his arms. He squeezed her tightly against him. "There's no place I would rather be."
Yet one dark cloud lingered on her thoughts. This was not the time to bring up Matilda Scarlet though. Before they went to sleep, after they were sated and well spent, she'd tell him. Perhaps the woman had turned over a new leaf, and April had no strong feelings that would make her choose her boss over the man she was falling in love with. There was no reasonable explanation for why the woman would send her here. There was also no reason that would make her old life seem better than the one April could have in Wonderland.
And she was falling for Harold March.
April lifted her hand from behind Marchy's head and stared at her palm over his shoulder. No longer bandaged, the cut hadn't been deep enough to require stitches and was not too distracting where she'd paid it much mind in her time here. Still, the feeling that something ominous loomed on the horizon plagued her.
Marchy walked her backward until her legs hit the mattress and she plopped down on it, the actions of the present pushing aside all worries of her past and possible future. Her thighs slipped through the slits in the dress's material. He looked down and groaned. "Hatter designed this dress specifically to torment me."
"Did he?" April giggled. When she'd tried the dress on, she had been intrigued by the draping fabric too and how it was made. "What would give you that idea?"
"All night I've been wanting to pluck these strips of silk from your gown like flower petals." He parted the two strips still covering her in front and draped them over her thighs. All she wore was a thin pair of silk panties that matched the gown, and from how turned on she was, she suspected the evidence of her arousal showed as Marchy's breathing picked up and he drank her in. "Oh, what you do to me."
April worked the buttons of his pants. Breeches? Trousers? His fashion sense was decidedly like that of the Victorian era. She yanked the material free, and he chuckled.
"Turnabout is fair play, after all." He mimicked her rough movements and tugged the corset down so her breasts were no longer covered. She gasped at the sensation of being fully dressed and yet entirely exposed. In a way, it was far more erotic than getting naked.
Leaning on her hands, she wrapped her legs around his thighs, enticing him closer. "Now, Marchy. I need you now."
"So impatient." He skimmed the back of his fingers down her jaw.
"Please."
He nodded and worked the material of her panties to the side before aligning himself with her entrance. Marchy hesitated for one brief moment before easing inside her. As he took one of her breasts into his mouth, desire overrode her sensibilities and she moved her hips in the rhythm of his thrusts, clutching his head to her breast as he teased it. The ribbon tying his long hair back came loose, and she ran her fingers through his tresses, accidently pulling it when he moved his attentions to her other breast. He grunted when she ran a hand down his back to squeeze his buttocks.
They were lost in their movements, that primitive ritualistic dance of lovers. Minutes together felt both like hours yet seconds. When she spiraled over the edge of pleasure, he followed behind her soon after, kissing her mouth as he entered his release. She placed a palm on the side of his face, and he flipped it over to kiss the mound of Venus, never taking his gaze from hers.
Breathing ragged, Marchy dropped to the mattress beside her, and rolled over on his back. Their legs were hanging over the side, and she waited to see if he would try to push her away, but to April's surprise, he turned and pulled her flush against his chest as though he feared letting her go.
"You and that gown don't play fair," he said finally. "I had such plans to have you writhing long before I ever gave in to your charms. I thought we'd both be fully naked by that point."
She snorted. "And here you were talking about the dress being designed to torment you when you had planned to actually torture me."
"Only in the best way. And I still can." His eyelids grew heavy. "I might have to recover a bit, but you…"
Her eyes widened as he rolled over and pulled her farther on the bed, then started to work at the threads of her bodice.
"I don't plan to stop making love to you in every possible way until we fall asleep from exhaustion."
He stayed true to his word.
Chapter 9
Blood. So much blood. It rained from the walls and dripped from the candles in the sconces. It ran from the castle windows onto the white roses below, painting them scarlet.
So much red.
A crown lay abandoned beneath the thorns, split in two. The blood spattered against the gold, consuming it. Until the last gleam of gold drowned in red.
Adelaide screamed and sat bolt upright in bed, turning to her dear husband beside her, but dread filled her, heavy and ice cold. His umber skin was pale in the early morning light. His eyes were shut, but his chest didn't rise and fall with the movements of his breathing.
Guards came into the room as she placed her fingers on the side of his neck to feel for any sign of a heartbeat.
There was none.
The White King was dead.
Her Nathanial was dead.
He was draped in the white sheets of their bed, but when she blinked her eyes, in that moment of dark between light, he was awash in red.
April groaned but didn't open her eyes. She had a splitting headache. When she rolled over, she frowned. When she'd gone to sleep, she'd been in Marchy's arms on a criminally soft bed in the castle. So why did it feel like she was on the cold, hard floor? Her eyes snapped open. She was on the cold, hard floor.
She bolted to her hands and knees and gawked at her surroundings. This wasn't the guest room she'd gone to sleep in. Large frames were stacked in a corner next to an old, oak armoire and a cedar wardrobe with a porcelain doll dressed in a silk dress and holding a parasol. A marble statuette of Aphrodite stood next to it. April's heart broke in two, and she gasped to find breath as she realized the horrible truth.
She was back in the antique store, which meant Wonderland hadn't allowed her to stay. But how? She didn't understand.
Tears pricked her eyes. Oh, God. What would Marchy think? Would he believe she hadn't wanted him enough? He'd believe he wasn't worth the same luck as Hatter and Gareth, and that hurt most of all. He'd take it personally—a failure on his part but it wasn't his fault. The failure was on her. Somehow, for some reason lost to her, she hadn't longed to stay enough.
"I'm so sorry," she said, as the tears fell harder. "I wanted to stay." Her own voice was so wrought with emotion that it didn't even sound like hers. When was the last time she'd fully wept like this? April had tried to harden herself over the years, but she'd never been prepared to fall for a man so fast and have no control over whether she could stay with him or not. It was cruel.
Cadence found a way back to Gareth, so you can too.
Hope gripped her heart and April rose to her feet, tripping over the hem of her gown. The sun was rising, casting pale golden light through the doorway in the fron
t of the store. She frowned. Something was wrong. If she'd woken up as though no time had passed, shouldn't she be in front of the mirror? And wearing…jeans?
She glanced down at her gown, not really seeing more than the color red through her tears. It wasn't her dress from the ball the night before either. This one didn't have the slits. And it had sleeves that fell to her elbows.
What the hell?
As she stepped into the main showroom, she turned her head to look around. Ms. Scarlet's reflection caught her attention in that blasted mirror that had caused all this drama. April stumbled toward it, calling out her boss' name, but she tripped over the hem of the dress, and propelled forward. In almost slow motion, she watched, baffled, as Matilda fell at the same time reflected by the mirror. They both landed on their hands and knees facing each other, eyes wide, with tears rolling down their cheeks. The same fall. At the same exact time.
April couldn't make sense of it and latched on to the idea that her boss had gotten trapped inside the mirror. Quickly, she rejected that idea. If Matilda was banished from Wonderland, she wouldn't be able to pass through the glass, allegedly. That's why she'd sent April through instead.
April's fingers brushed over something on the floor in front of the mirror and she looked down at her hands—that were not her own. Crimson painted, well-manicured fingernails met her gaze. Underneath the fingers of her left hand a white chess piece had been broken into two. She picked it up and gasped.
It was the white king from the red and white chess set. The piece she hadn't been able to find when she'd bumped it a few days ago…or the same day? She couldn't be sure anymore. April looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Matilda's reflection, with bluer eyes.
When she reached up to touch her face, and the reflection did the same, she screamed.
Part II
Enchantment
"I don't know what you mean by your way," said the Queen: "all the ways about here belong to me."
-Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
Chapter 10
Marchy opened his eyes and blinked against the sunshine streaming through the windows. A bird sang cheerfully as awareness of the new day sank in. Awareness of another body with him in the bed sent happiness radiating within him. She stayed! Wonderland had given him the best unbirthday present of all. He didn't deserve it, but he'd cherish it as the precious gift it was.
He turned on his side and propped his head in his hand to watch her sleep. Her dark hair fell into her eyes and her mouth was wide open, but that only made him smile more. However, despite his elation and excitement, doubt was never far from his mind. It crept in now, seizing hold. Would she still want him now that she would live here? How mad was it that he'd gone from fearing the idea of sharing his space with a woman to fearing she wouldn't want to share his space? Perhaps it was true what they said about finding one's true love: nothing else seemed to matter anymore, not really.
And that had to be what this was…this feeling. He loved her. He'd been drawn to her instantaneously, and sure he'd tried to use that attraction in his favor.
He, Harold March, was in love with a woman.
And he was happy about it!
April opened her eyes and stared at him. He sucked in a breath, awaiting the moment she felt the way he did in her heart and was overjoyed to see him. But that moment didn't happen. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and then her face twisted into a grimace of disgust.
"A halfling?" She sat up. Upon realizing she was naked in the bed with him, April made an unpleasant sound in the back of her throat. "I knew I was settling, but I had no idea how low I was setting my standards."
Her words lacerated through him, and he couldn’t formulate a response. Had everything from yesterday been a lie, concocted to somehow fool Wonderland into accepting her? She'd been so warm, so caring. Not once had she given any sign of disgust toward him. It didn't make sense why she would now. And how could she have done it? Nobody could trick the magic of the realm, and more often than not, people didn't get the blessing to stay. She couldn't have possibly faked her desire to be here, but she had assuredly faked her feelings for him. His beautiful, thoughtful, caring and empathic findling had removed the mask to reveal a viper with no heart—though he'd given her his, and look where it had gotten him?
The accursed laughter struck him so hard the bed shook, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Mortification increased the force of the laughs, and he fisted the sheets so hard he thought he might have torn them. The one time he'd fallen for a woman, and she'd been toying with him all along. He supposed he deserved it for all his conquests, but he'd never gone out of his way to humiliate any of the lovers he took to bed. He'd never been cruel, at least not intentionally.
"So pathetic. Though I should thank you, I wager, for you may have secured my victory here."
He laughed, and he laughed, and he laughed some more. His sides and guts were in knots, but he couldn't stop. He held his midsection, tears springing to his eyes at the force of the wracking laughter. Her words, the physicality of his madness, his heart, his gut—all of it a thousand knives.
Suddenly, Hawthorn appeared at the corner of the bed. Marchy assumed the little dormouse had bunked down somewhere with Squirrelpoleon as he hadn't shown himself since the ball. The rodent took one look at April and all the hair on his body shot up like a startled cat's. He squeaked and tore back down the side of the bed and vanished beneath it.
Marchy held his side as he tried to sit up and fight the attack. Hawthorn had been enamored of April, trusted her. Had her change in demeanor been so negative that it would frighten him off in such a way, or was this validation that there was something afoot that didn't factor into logic? In a world such as this one, it wasn't unheard of, but not as common as that little girl Alice would have had anyone believe.
April was pulling on her discarded gown from the ball, ignoring him now. In fact, he didn't think she'd noticed the dormouse's appearance, and he'd keep it that way. As she fastened the ties as best as she could while looking in the mirror, she smiled. "At least this is the right color. Not the best body, but it will do."
What did that mean?
His laughter was finally subsiding, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed. April turned to look at him as he attempted to stand. The sheet fell away. "Well…" Her voice lowered as she took in the sight of his naked form. "At least now I can see how you might have been a welcome distraction." She snickered as she ran a brush through her dark hair. "That will be all I need you for, Harold. It's been…enlightening."
Now, he narrowed his eyes on her. April hadn't been calling him by his first name in her time here, and that, even more than her behavior, sent trepidation through him. A completely bizarre and unfounded thought began to form. Hadn't April said there was something important they needed to talk about regarding the person who helped her go through the looking glass? They'd gotten interrupted every time she brought it up, and he'd forgotten to ask about it, selfishly concerned with their time together and not wanting her to think about where she was from in fear she'd miss it too much.
"At least this is the right color…" she had said moments before.
She was sent by someone who had been here…
His eyes nearly bulged from his head as he started connecting the thoughts that didn't make any sense. There was no way. No possible way. "Matilda?" he asked, praying that garnered no reaction.
April paused in her task and looked at him, then sighed and rolled her eyes, eyes that appeared darker than the blue they had been for the last two days. "You really are more astute than anyone gives you credit for, Harold."
His mouth dropped open. It was Matilda. The Red Queen had returned and somehow had possessed April's body. April had tried to tell them, tell him, and no one had bothered to get the story out of her. Why didn't we try to hear more about her life before visiting?
Shame over his selfishness made him clench his jaw as he covered himself once more with the sheet. This
was no longer the woman he loved. Everything since she woke up proved it, and now he had an answer that brought both relief that she hadn't spurned him and horror at what might have happened to her. His April was gone. She'd been a pawn in a queen's gambit all along, and none of them had been the wiser.
"Yes, I know." She gestured at herself, excited now. "Hard to believe I'm back, isn't it? You didn't think I'd let a common findling keep my throne, did you?"
Had she come for revenge? He couldn't even fathom what she planned to do to Cadence, but it couldn't be good. "What happened to April?"
Matilda shrugged one shoulder. "I suspect she had quite the shock when she looked in the mirror this morning." At this, she chuckled ominously. He'd been under the assumption April was possessed. Had they…switched bodies instead?
Even more importantly: could it be reversed?
"Unfortunately, I cannot have you running off to spill my secret since I have something important to do before anyone finds out."
Marchy stood to his full height, still shaky from the worst laughing fit of his entire life. "Well, that's a shame since I won't allow you to use her body for foul deeds."
She smirked. "I can kill you, Harold, or I can tie you up and gag you. I don't suspect it will take terribly long to do what I need to do. If things are going according to plan, it will be all too easy."
What did that mean? Then it hit him. "The king. His illness…"
Matilda dropped her head back and sighed. "Perhaps I should have paid more attention to you and your secret cleverness when I was the reigning monarch of this castle. Truth be told, I always thought you an imbecile who had a sexual fascination with the Hatter. Thought all the women were a cover for it." Humor danced through her gaze as the words hit him like a slap to the face.
Did everyone think him an idiot who had been spurned by his best friend? His face burned. Taken off guard by her comment, he didn't have time to react when Matilda stomped on his foot hard enough that he keeled forward instinctually, only to be struck in the face with her knee as he did.
The Enchanting Page 8
