by Jenni James
Could she tell? Was he really different? The prince half-heartedly replied, “I can have you hanged for treason if you keep this up.”
Cecelia laughed right out loud. “That’s the best you can do? Now I know something is wrong! What is it?”
There was nothing that annoyed him more than meddling nosy females, and she was the absolute worst at interfering. Always poking and prying herself into everyone’s business. He’d seen her countless times querying and discussing all sorts of things with anyone she was around. Helping herself to offer advice, counsel, and even ailment curing to anyone from the maid to the people of the court. It was bad enough to think she thought he was different, it was quite another to subject oneself to her pitying and snooping. Before he’d know it, she’d be finding all sorts of things “wrong” with him and trying to poke and pry into his life like she did everyone else.
“Excuse me, Miss. I will leave you to your own imaginings on what you believe to be flawed with me.” With that he bowed again and left. Not caring if he ever saw Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe again. In fact, he was positive if he never saw her again, it would be too soon.
***
Cecelia quickly forgot about the prince as she came back toward the house an hour or so later. She’d thought about him enough as it was that afternoon, with his strange behavior and abrupt departure. But now was not the time to worry over him, now was the time to begin her preparations for the wonderful Lord Willington. In no time at all she’d bathed, powdered, dressed, and primped for the delightful man, until she was simply the beauty of perfection in emerald green stripes. Her long curls artfully arranged by her maid in a sumptuous updo, purposefully designed to capture the heart of all who looked upon her. Or more importantly to secure the heart of one who was already hers.
She giggled as she turned from side to side at precisely a quarter past the hour and knew then she’d never seen herself look so happy or so fine. In just a few moments everything would change in her life—simply everything. And she could not wait!
Cecelia elegantly made her way down the wide staircase, slowing her steps to appear much more refined than she felt at the moment. Her purposeful approach a few minutes late also had the same effect. One should never try to appear too eager, or it gives the courter an unfair advantage over you.
“Miss Hammerstein-Smythe, you look ravishing!”
Lord Willington bowed, his shiny blond locks bobbed a bit, causing her heart to flutter to a stop. Cecelia loved the way Charles’ curls broke free from their confined hair treatments once his hat was off. She loved every aspect of him, but she did not let it show beyond a glimmer in her eyes as she curtsied. “Thank you. You look very fine, as well.”
She stepped into the pelisse the maid held out for her, and allowed the young girl to button the pretty overcoat, while she slipped her hands into her short white gloves. A moment later her matching bonnet was perched atop her head and she was ready to go. Beaming, Cecelia turned toward Lord Willington’s waiting arm, gratefully clutched it, and with a quick farewell to Sanford they were walking out into the glorious sunshine. She was gallantly handed in the carriage by Lord Willington himself, causing the rapid beating of her heart to become so loud she wondered if he could hear it.
In a trice they were off, and the clop, clop, clop of the horses’ sprightly hooves did much to increase her excitement. Many people came to their windows to watch them leave. They had quite become the talk of the village, and soon, very soon, they would be all celebrating with her at the grand engagement ball her mother and brother had been spreading word about.
Yes, life was joyously splendid.
After a few minutes at a very brisk trot winding through the village and countryside, Lord Willington pulled the carriage to a little alcove, nearly completely hidden within the copse of trees and low lying branches. It was there, with the reins in his hands, he finally turned and looked fully at the handsome girl beside him.
Charles had never seen anyone more beautiful than Cecelia. He allowed his eyes to wander lovingly across her delicate features and paused to contemplate her most perfectly delectable rose-colored lips. Nothing had been more tempting to him than kissing her, but it would not do. Not today, not the day when he’d purposely set out to tell her of his Kathryn, his Lady Dashenwold, his intended from Baythorpe Hall. No, he needed everything as perfect as it could be to break the news as gently as possible to her. For there was no way he’d ever be allowed to wed this beautiful creature next to him. Not without the proper lineage behind her. Not without the proper fortune to satisfy his father. Yes, she had a large home and her family had obviously been wealthy enough for the village, but not enough to please his father. He wanted his dear son to make an excellent match, to an excellent lineage with excellent connections. No, indeed, Miss Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe would never be the proper wife for Lord Willington and he hoped against hope she’d already come to this exact same conclusion.
CHAPTER THREE
“WELL, OF COURSE, I never thought any such thing! My goodness, imagine me thinking I would marry you!” Cecelia exclaimed with a forced smile upon her face, which she prayed looked real. “You deserve as much happiness as anyone. And Lady Dashenwold sounds the exact person to bring you such happiness.”
Cecelia had no idea what she was saying. The lies escaped so easily from her tongue she wondered briefly if the prince had rubbed off on her.
Her hands were still clasped within Lord Willington’s strong hold. She didn’t want to let go. She knew she’d never be able to hold his hands in such a way again. But, she didn’t want to hold on either. She couldn’t. They weren’t her hands to hold.
“And when did you propose to her?” Her fingers tightened upon his, showing the only sign of how painful such a question was to ask. She hoped he mistook the unconscious action as a sign of eagerness. Laughing gaily she remarked, “I wish I could have been there to witness it. Was it as truly romantic as any girl could hope for?”
Cecelia could not hear the words he spoke; it was as if her own ears were protecting her from such vileness. All she could make out was the dreaded pounding of her heart and voice inside her head repeatedly telling her to leave. Run. Quick, before he caught her crying over him.
How did she ever find herself in such a predicament? Whatever would she tell her mother and her brother, William? They would never let her live this down. Ever. She would become the complete laughingstock of the whole village. And yet, she could not keep this charade up. She must tell them. They must know Charles never meant to propose to her at all and, in fact, was very much, at this moment, decidedly engaged to another.
How she kept her composure the whole way home was a miracle unto itself, and one she could not completely identify as having anything to do with. She was in a state of utter shock. She was not coherent, she had no recollection of anything she had said or was saying. But by the good graces of luck, she’d found herself answering, giggling and doing all things happy and proper. It was as if her body were on some sort of automatic reaction and the real Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe was very far away looking down upon it all in a sad reminiscence of everything she believed she once had and saying goodbye to a world that would now never be hers.
She was shattered. She was heartbroken beyond anything she’d ever known before.
Oh, how she had loved him. How she did love him still! There was nothing she would not have done for him, nothing she would not have given him. And yet, it still was not enough. He did not want her.
He wanted another.
In a grateful haze, Cecelia thanked Lord Willington and made her way up the stairs to her room. One look at the butler as she passed was enough to let him see she needed a few hours of privacy. Sanford would take care of everything for her and make her excuses until she could face them all. Plopping onto her bed, she took enough time to remove her pelisse and bonnet, setting them on the bench in front of the footboard, before curling up in a ball—driving boots and all—and burying he
r face into her pillow.
Several hours later, Cecelia opened her eyes to a darkened room. She was still in her gown, but it looked as though her maid had come in and sweetly placed a blanket over her. Rolling on her back, she could just make out the moon as it slivered through the cracks of the curtains. It was quite high, signifying the night was well underway. Blinking and stretching a bit, she debated over removing her shoes and putting on her nightgown or just staying as she was. But she wasn’t tired. And now that she was awake, memories of that afternoon came flooding back with a vengeance.
Groaning, she flew the cover off of her and sat up. This would never do. She simply could not waste another moment of her life sniveling over Lord Willington. Cecelia hopped down from the bed and paced around the room, acting more like a caged lion than a girl deep in thought.
She needed out. She needed air. Room to breathe. A change of environment. Peace. Something.
Halting to a stop, she reached over and grabbed her pelisse and bonnet from the small bench. Before she’d completely rationalized all that she was doing, she’d donned them both and threw the small blanket over her like a shawl for added warmth. Then as quickly and as silently as possible, she made her way down the servants’ staircase and out the back door to freedom.
The brook. She needed to get to her brook. It was the only thing that would calm her now. And she needed it more than she needed anything else in her life.
Her mother would kill her if she knew the danger she was placing herself in, but honestly, what could be out there? Everyone else was asleep. The only real danger she faced was the few night animals roaming the forest. But she was larger and scarier than any of them could be to her. The moon was high enough to light her path so she wouldn’t get lost. Besides, she could probably walk the whole trail to the little stream completely blindfolded she knew the way so well.
She was completely safe. More safe here than with her thoughts.
***
Prince Alexander shuddered at the transformation as he ran beyond the castle grounds, still not used to the agonizing pain of his skin tearing to make way for the wolf within him. Even though it had been about four months since he’d first been cursed by the witch, each night he relived the horror all over again. He’d hoped by now he would’ve become more used to the sensation, but alas, pain, pain, and more pain was all he ever knew.
Tonight was more agonizing than the rest, and to add to it time was running out. From what he could gather, he needed to find a girl to love him as an ugly wolf before the year was over, or he’d remain a beast forever. It seemed a hopeless cause. The witch was right; he was a monster, inside and out.
He didn’t always feel that way. After the first few weeks, every time he thought of the old woman he’d wanted to kill her all over again. How he hated her. But now, now it’d been so long, he’d begun to see things in a different light. For a prince, he wasn’t the best, and his kingdom suffered greatly for it. They needed a better ruler than some selfish brat to take over the throne when his mother died. They needed a strong, valiant man who loved them. His father, when he was alive, had been one of the best kings this country had ever had. It was not fair to either of his parents to have a son so determined to have his own way and destined to disgrace them both.
Since the transformation had begun, there were many nights where Alexander had tried to destroy himself. Thinking death was the answer, he was positive nothing could be worse than his fate. How wrong he was. Now he knew differently. Now he knew just how needed he was. And he hoped he had enough time to makes things right for his family, before his dreadful secret was out. He simply could not rule as a beast, but he’d hoped to help his cousin see the great responsibility and prepare him to take over the throne. There was less than eight months before no one would ever be able to see him again.
She was right, that girl—Miss Hammerstein-Smythe—he was different. He was very different. But it was too late.
Perhaps it was because he was thinking of her, perhaps it was because he really needed some solitude tonight, or perhaps it was because the place seemed magical, whatever the reason, Alexander found himself, as a wolf, at the same place he’d discovered the night before—the gentle brook.
Except this time he was not alone.
She had been weeping for quite some time. He was certain of it. In fact, he’d never seen the gel so at a loss before in his life. If someone were to ask him if she ever cried, he would not have hesitated to respond in the negative. Yet, here Miss Hammerstein-Smythe was crying as if her world had ended.
Did she often come to this place and cry in secret? She seemed so peaceful earlier today. Had something happened?
A surge of sympathy shot through him as he crept forward on silent paws to see if he could be of some comfort for her. He was just about to announce his presence when it dawned on him he might very well frighten her in his present form.
***
Cecelia felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. They were quickly followed by gooseflesh erupting all over her back and arms.
She was not alone.
Her ears picked up the gentle sound of the water trickling, as well as the midnight breeze rustling through the forest trees—nothing to alarm her. Yet, still the feeling she was being watched would not go away.
Cecelia wiped away a few tears with her left hand to distract her would-be assailant while surreptitiously gripping the thick branch lying just under her gown and out of sight. She’d collected it on the way down just in case a situation like this did arise. Her father had always reminded her to be vigilant and aware of everything around her. And after today’s earlier scare with the prince she wasn’t about to take any chances.
With her hand clutching the large branch, she slowly raised her head and took in all of her surroundings at once. Her eyes scanned the dark crooks and crevices of the trees around her. Whatever, whoever was out there, was right behind her. It was as if she could almost hear their breathing if only she listened more intently.
Cecelia’s father had always warned about danger and men who might try to assault her. She learned early in life the best time to fight off an attack was to do so immediately while the enemy was still catching their bearings and not fully certain of their plan. She had to be swift, strong and urgent in defending herself to guarantee they would flee or leave her alone long enough that she could get to safety.
If she wanted to catch them off guard, it was now or never.
Heaving herself from the ground in one rapid movement, she spun around, hurling her thick branch forward and forcing the wind from her throat in a loud guttural howl.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LARGE BRANCH CONNECTED with its target perfectly.
In fact, Cecelia would’ve never believed her aim was so good if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Watching the great animal flinch and drop before her was unbelievable! She’d actually struck the poor thing right upon its forehead. Who knew she had it in her? If only William could’ve been there to witness it. He’d never believe her now.
Her crowing and general self congratulations did not last too long though, for almost immediately the wolf began to moan and move about.
She grabbed the branch from where it had ricocheted after striking the animal, ready to flee or attack if she had to.
She didn’t have to.
For in that moment, the beast’s groans began to take on a different sound altogether. They were almost human-like and it was several seconds before Cecelia realized he was actually speaking to her!
“I’m sorry. Did you say something to me?” she asked, still unsure if she was imagining more than she was willing to admit.
“Yes,” he grunted.
Cecelia quickly crouched for the attack. “Did you just say, ‘Yes’?”
“Of course, I did.”
Stunned, she could not help asking, “Did you just say, ‘Of course, I’—?”
“Yes! Look.” The beast rolled over onto his hind legs and g
ingerly sat up as he spoke. “I know this may be a novel concept for you, but, yes, I’m speaking and, yes, you can hear me.”
Stepping back, she stumbled over a small boulder next to the water and caught herself just in time. “I-I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” He stretched his paws and leaned back a bit, with a look of submission, so as not to alarm her more. “I’m not sure what else I should do to convince you otherwise, except speak. Though considering your reaction, I feel it may not be the best way.”
Cecelia slowly lowered herself to the rock, the green striped gown gracefully puddling around her. “But how?”
“How can I talk?” Alexander wasn’t quite sure what answer he should give that wouldn’t reveal his secret, so he evaded the question instead by rubbing his head against his front legs. “Well, it was much easier to communicate coherently before I was clubbed to death.”
A surprised chuckle escaped her lips. “It was a branch, barely a stick, and it only hit you once.”
“With quite some force, let me tell you.”
“Yes, well, what did you expect sneaking up behind me like that?”
Alexander grumbled, “I didn’t suppose you to be so acute, certainly.” He rubbed his head on his front legs trying to receive a tad bit more sympathy from Miss Hammerstein-Smythe. “Nor did I imagine your aim to be quite so faultless either.”
Sympathy did not come from Cecelia’s corner, she was too ecstatic and bewildered by the night’s events to fully comprehend what was happening, or remember her manners. “I know! I could not believe it myself! And then to watch you fall like that was mind-boggling.”
The wolf did not miss the excited glimmer in her eyes, or the fact that he’d never seen the girl look prettier. “Or mind-bashing,” he moaned in response, before lying his stomach fully upon the ground. “Either way you’d like to look at it, it hurt.”
