by Jenni James
“Miss Dashlund? The Miss Dashlund, the girl who ruined the queen’s garden party?”
He could feel her smile, though he could not see it. “The very same.”
“And how did she come to be your ally?”
“I do not know. There has been a change overcome her, this past year at least, that I have noticed, and recently she has become even more pleasant with me. I dare say we are close to almost friends, if not sisters.” She snorted. “I believe it may have something to do with her clumsiness and becoming more and more my stepmother’s trial as each event becomes worse and worse.”
John could not quite imagine such a silly girl being Ella’s friend and confidante, but if she were truly an ally in her life, then he would mayhap have to open the castle up for her too… His thoughts halted. Right then and there, they halted. What was he thinking?
He was thinking of Ella with him always.
He simply could not become king without his Ella by his side. Her wisdom, her loyalty, her happiness, her gravity, her humility…here was the answer he had been searching for—waiting for. His aching heart burst with warmth. He loved her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ELLA PULLED BACK AND looked up at John. “Though I believe there is more to the story of Lacey’s awkwardness and mishaps than has been revealed. I am afraid Jillian is behind most—if not all—of it. I have not been able to fully understand why Jillian would do something this underhanded toward her own sister, but I am sure she…” Ella stopped and turned more fully toward him. “What? Why are you looking at me with such a grin?”
“Cannot a man smile when he is in the presence of a beautiful woman?”
She blinked. “Did you not hear a word of what I spoke of a few moments ago?”
His grin deepened, showing a faint dimple near the corner of his mouth. “No, not a one.”
He must not be serious. Laughing, she asked, “You honestly did not hear anything I said about Jillian?”
“Afraid not. My mind was more agreeably occupied.”
Her breath caught as her eyes met his—they sparkled dangerously into her own. “May I inquire what you were thinking of?”
“You, of course.”
“Oh. Me?”
“Just so.”
Her insides began to flutter wildly about. “And what was that?”
“How much I wish I could kiss your perfect mouth right now.”
She flushed and grinned, her eyelashes fluttering as she tried desperately to focus on anything but his intense gaze.
“I am quite positive you are the most adorable woman I have ever met when you are embarrassed.” He released her hand and gently cradled her chin. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked once her eyes had settled more firmly upon him.
“Yes, please.”
She let out a little whimper as his mouth closed upon hers. Just to connect with someone, someone who understood her and felt her and cared for her. After all the horridness she had faced, to share such a delicate thing as one’s lips was simply magical. It offered so very much hope and happiness and joy within her. She clung to him as he deepened the kiss, almost as if he were pouring his heart and soul into it.
Breathless, she pulled away first, inhaling on gasps. “John—John, what has happened to you? I feel as though a connection between us was realized. I do not know what I am saying—or what I am trying to say—but it feels—it feels…”
“As though our kiss was saying all the words we cannot at the moment?” His eyes seized her in a way no one else had ever been able to. The intensity, the emotions, the raw feelings were all there for her to take and pluck and explore them at will.
“What can you not say? Does it have anything to do with what happened the past twelve hours or so?” she asked.
He closed those eyes briefly, before opening them again. “It has everything to do with that—and nothing to with it at all.” All of the sudden, as if a great weight had descended upon him, he hunched lower. “There is so much I need to reveal to you—so very, very much. But I worry. I worry if now is the time. If you would still wish to be near me if you knew. If you would not run away and hide from me.”
“Such intrigue! Why are you speaking in riddles? Why not come out and say what you need to?”
“Because I am afraid to lose you.”
She shook her head, finding his hand again and clasping it. “I am going nowhere. I promise you, this. I have shared with you my biggest, deepest secret, the one thing no one knew; it is time to trust me with yours.” She leant forward and kissed his worried mouth. “We are friends, are we not? I promise, whatever it is you reveal, I will not abandon you. I cannot. For I have shared with you all that I am—all that I know. It is yours to safeguard for eternity. John, what more could there be? What more horrors can we face than my past? If you are still here after listening to such a worthless soul as mine—then I am no friend of yours if I do not stay and listen to your suffering heart.” She smiled. “We are the same, you and I, and we will battle through this together.”
John wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her once again. An urgent, passionate kiss as if he were a man afraid to lose what precious thing he held in his arms and so therefore proving to himself and the world she still existed. When he released her, he looked more haggard and troubled than she had ever seen him before.
She whispered, “What? What can it be? What could be so awful as to put such lines and worry upon your brow? My dearest John, please—please allow me to shoulder this burden with you.”
Abruptly, he climbed to his feet and began to pace in front of her. His hands shaking and going every which way—to his hips, to his hair, to his face—as if they had no idea where to settle. “Eleanoria Woodston,” he began as he turned his back to her. “I do not know what to say to you. I do not know how to control the emotions of these past twenty-four hours within me. There is so much inner turmoil at the moment, I find myself completely at a loss.” He spun around and looked directly at her. “I beg of you to have patience with me—open your heart to the compassion I know that is there within it, and loan some my way. For I have much to reveal, things I have not fully come to terms with myself. And I have no one to turn to but you.” He glanced out toward the tree nearest. “My soul yearns to explode and share with you everything—every last bit. And yet, my mind is terrified to do so. I am torn on where to begin, how to speak this all properly—how best to communicate to you all that must be revealed without you becoming alarmed and leaving me.”
Slowly, she stood and walked up to his side. So lost in his thoughts, she could tell he did not see that she had moved, until he glanced down as she placed first one hand around his waist and then the other. Pressing her face against his strong chest, she held him to her. Giving him the strength and calmness he needed to silence his anxiety and inward struggle and ramblings. There was not much to offer him but tranquility and peace—and so she did, in droves—waves upon soothing waves she sent toward him from herself.
As her hands clung to his back, she could hear his racing heart begin to slow with each breath.
He wrapped his arms around her and murmured, “Thank you. Thank you.”
“When you are ready, you may tell me what has happened. Until then, do not worry yourself over such things. I am sorry if I pressed you. It does not matter, in the end it does not matter at all.”
“You did not press me, Ella. I have wanted to tell you what is on my heart for some time. But, as I have said before, I do not know how to express myself as well as others do.”
“No matter.” She pressed a kiss upon his chest. “You will tell me eventually.”
He heaved a sigh and tightened his hold. For several minutes they stood there in the garden clasping one another and breathing, enjoying, being.
When he took another deep breath, his hands stilling from the soft circles they were creating upon her back, she knew he would begin to tell her. However, Ella had not prepared herself to hear—
“My fathe
r died this morning. He was taken quite ill last night—my mother is so distraught. And I am at a loss as to what to do. I do not know how to go on without him.” She gasped as he clasped her tighter, and then slowly each word coming out in completed pauses, a breath between every one, he revealed, “My. Father. Was. The. King.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ELLA’S WHOLE BODY WENT numb, her arms slackened their hold. “I beg your pardon, what did you say?”
“I am Prince Anthony. I am not John, the outrider to the Lord Gavenston. I am the duke’s cousin and best friend—but even he—even he did not know my father was ill. No one did.”
She would have pulled away, but his arms tightened upon her. So many voices and memories flew at her at once. She could not think properly. She could not fully process what he had said. He could not be Prince Anthony. He could not be! No.
“Please, do not leave me. Please, do not pull away. Allow me to hold you until the realization of all that I have revealed settles into your heart.”
She snuggled in closer, pulling her arms around to tuck against his chest. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I wanted you to trust me—to come to know me as a person before you were made aware of the fact I was royalty. I knew how you felt about the people of the court.”
“And this is how you came by my invitation to the ball so readily?”
“I—yes. It is my connection to the queen—my mother. I simply just asked her to write one out and she did.”
Ella took a deep breath. “Your mother is the queen?”
“Yes.”
“Your father the king?”
“Yes.”
“You—you, the man holding me at this moment, are Prince Anthony.”
“Yes.”
“But I remember you. You are John! You have always been John—the boy whose horse Sunshine beat every year.”
“The boy who would sneak out of the castle with his cousin, and pretend to be villagers so he could race against the only horse worthy enough to challenge him.”
“Every year?”
“Every single year, yes. It was me. It was always me.”
“I was soundly winning and outracing the prince, this whole time—it was Prince Anthony.”
“Yes.”
She bumped her head against his chest. “Why did you not tell me? Why keep something like this under lock and key for so very long?”
“Ella,” he said gently, “as a boy, I would have been whipped if anyone knew. As an adult—you were dressed as a servant. It was not right. I had no notion of why Lord Dashlund’s daughter would be dressed so, which is why I pretended to be John a bit longer to solve the great mystery you have finally revealed to me.”
Her hands froze and she tried to pull away again. “This was all to get me to trust you? To get me to open up to you?”
“At first, yes. I wanted to help you and I knew you would never speak to the prince the same way you spoke to John, and so I did continue with the falsehood. But, then—then…”
“What now? What now that you know my family’s mistreatment of me? Do you now mean to spread this around and speak ill of the Dashlund name? Do you mean to use your princely powers to displace us all and call out my stepmother and stepsisters?”
“No.”
“What will you do now that the great mystery is solved? Now you will go and solve more mysteries and pretend to be other people with other subjects and—”
He silenced her with a kiss. He would not release his hold upon her lips until he could feel her mind settling down. Until he could feel her reaction to him returned and the sanity slowly weave itself around her heart again. This woman. This fierce, brave woman had years without knowing who to trust. It was no wonder her world would slip when something as great as he was speaking to her of came to focus. She needed time to think. She needed time to ponder upon her own feelings and emotions for him.
But she needed to do so knowing that he was in love with her. Knowing that he would wait until the end of time for her to see him for the man he was and not the self-righteous prince she had always imagined he would be.
Oh, how he kissed her. How she melted and folded herself right within his arms.
When he was done he simply said, “Ella, I love you.”
He could feel the tears wetting his shirt, as her shoulders shook within his arms.
“Ella, we have much to discuss, much more to speak of. But I am willing to give you time—time to sort this all out and come to a conclusion on what you would like to do. My father has just died. I will be made king before the week is out. My dear, my world is nothing without you. I would ask you to kindly think of all I have spoken of today. All I have said to you and my reasons for doing so. And I would like to know—later, much later—if you are willing to be my friend still, if you are willing to continue this path with me and see where it will lead us.
“I am willing to move slowly—there is no rush. With my father’s death, there is much to be sorted within the castle over the next little while. I may not be here as often as I would like to be. I do not know when I can make it back to your arms—but know that I will be thinking of you every single second.” He released her and looked into her wet eyes. “I love you. Please think of that when you decide what it is you wish to do. I understand if you would like to never see me again, but I beg of you to reconsider and decide within your heart all you do feel for me.” She looked away.
“There is one more thing,” he said, “I would like you to decide how best to handle your family. If you wish everything to remain as it is, then I will allow it to be so. If you wish to have them brought to court and humiliated, then we can arrange that too. It is up to you what you wish to have done to them, or not done to them. I will leave it in your hands.”
She looked up then, her beautiful eyes glistening through the tears. “Thank you. I do not know what else to say, so thank you.”
“I will leave you now. Please decide what you will of my outcome—it is literally in your hands. I give it all to you. My heart, my life, my fate. And I will take this small smile you are giving me now as a sign of hope, as a sign of a brighter future than I could have imagined a week ago.” He took one hand and raised it to his lips. “Be safe, my angel. I will be back for my answer soon. You will hear from me, I promise you.”
Ella attempted to deepen her smile, his hazel eyes holding way too much seriousness than could be right for him at this moment. “John—Your Highness—”
“Anthony. I am forever, your Anthony.”
“An—Anthony, I am sorry to hear of your father. My condolences must be given before I think of anything else at this time—forgive me for not mentioning them earlier.”
“Thank you.”
“I know what a good man he was. And for my own part, I will miss my king terribly too.” She blinked at the sudden tears forming. “I know what you must be suffering at this time. And I am so very sorry. Is there anything—anything I can do for you or your mother?”
“Yes.” He nodded and brought her knuckles to his lips once more. “Promise me you will think over all I said—and promise me I will have a friend when this is all over.”
How torn he was! How lost and heartbroken. “I will always be here for you. And I promise to give my responses to this all very soon.”
“Does this give me leave to imagine I still have a partner for the ball? I cannot guarantee when it will be now, if my mother will choose to carry on as before, or postpone it. However, I would still love you for a partner, if you are agreeable?”
His grin was too adorable. She smiled and answered, “Yes.”
“Then I shall be there at half-past nine on whatever day it is held.” He bowed his head quickly. “Forgive me, but I am in a mind to leave you at once, before you change yours!” He chuckled as he walked over and fetched the reins of his horse, slipping one foot in the stirrup, he jumped smoothly atop the steed. “Good day to you, fair lady. I will speak with you soon.”
&nbs
p; With that he was gone.
And Ella was left there in the orchard. How much difference a day makes! She walked to the trunk of the tree and slid down it. How in the world would she ever make sense of all that had come forth?
A prince? A prince? She had captured the heart of a prince.
Ella laughed—if it was not all so ludicrous and outrageous, she may have laughed more.
She supposed it would be best to give him her answer—and sort out her own feelings by the ball.
Her heart jolted and the butterflies jumbled within her again. To be with the prince at the ball. In front of all those people—nay, not the prince, he will be king! Oh great heavens, what muddle had she got herself into?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AFTER SOME TIME, ELLA made her way back to the house and up to her bedroom. It was so very much to accept and believe—so very much of her life had been completely dumped upside down and shaken, until everything she thought she knew was a jumbled mess upon the floor.
He loved her! Prince Anthony loved her.
And he had known it was her all along. He loved her for being, well, her. Not a silly girl of the court, but as a servant, a woman who spoke with him and talked with him. He understood her love and need of horses. He understood her fears and heart and her need to take time. He understood the deep love she felt for her father. He understood her. And cared for her.
How was it possible?
There was much she must sort out before the ball. Much she must decide within herself, but for now—now, it was best to get back into the kitchen and see what help she could be for them.
Slipping off the nicer of the two pairs of boots she had been wearing the past couple of days, she pulled on the older ones. No reason to work in the kitchen with her best on. As she was sliding her left foot into the boot, she was reminded of the key she had hidden in there the day before.
