At the top of the stairs on the third floor, Jane glanced toward the east wing, noting the two men who obviously stood guard outside Grayson's chambers, one of which was Hammet, who should have been on hand to meet her at the stables. Now she knew why there had been no one available to assist her when she had arrived. Grayson had raced ahead and called them all to his side to help him keep her away.
From outside the chamber, she could hear his gasps and then a wrenching groan reverberated along the long hallway. The loud clink of a length of chain harshly snapped as it reached its limits drew her up sharply.
Could she go through with this? She wondered.
There was much yet to be done and with her emotions already in riot Jane feared she lacked the necessary strength of will to follow through. But hearing the anguish in her husband's voice, she knew she simply must. “I should like to have a bath before I pay a visit to the earl, Eadith. Have water brought up, if you please.”
Eadith instructed a maid to do as her mistress bid, adding a request for a warm mug of chocolate as well before following Jane to her chambers, where she stripped her of the soaked riding dress before wrapping her in a quilt warmed by the fire.
Soon, the maid returned and Jane gratefully accepted the steaming mug from her, grasping it tightly to still her shaking hands.
The girl set about her duties, laying out the needed things for Jane's bath until Eadith caught her by the arm and sent her away. “The mistress will not be needing your assistance tonight, child. I will see to her myself.”
Jane's questioning gaze met hers, but the housekeeper merely bustled about the room, quietly replacing the serviceable night-rail the maid had laid out for Jane with the one Grayson's sister had given her for her wedding night. “If you are bent upon facing the beast in his lair, my lady, this one will certainly prove a better distraction.”
* * *
Some time later, her bath and toilette finished all too quickly, Jane stood facing the two men who guarded the door to Grayson's room, with Eadith at her side for support. Still, her knees trembled and threatened to give way beneath her while her heart thumped painfully against her chest.
Could she do it? Her mind spun with a myriad of reasons she should not even bother to try, but her heart simply reminded her she must.
Stealing from inside the chamber, the sounds of Grayson's agony all but destroyed her nerve, until among the cries of fear and pain coming through the door, she heard her own name, issued forth like a plea. Clearly, he needed her, needed someone, and no matter how great her own fears might seem, Jane realized they must be small in comparison to the torture he was suffering through behind that door, and she would not deny him.
Her resolve thus reaffirmed, Jane lifted her chin and addressed the guards with a measured calm she was far from feeling.
“Gentlemen, I appreciate your loyalty and your dedication to both the earl and my safety,” she began quietly. “But the man you are barring the way against is my husband and as your mistress, I am ordering you to step aside. You must allow me to go him, to help him. Do you understand?”
Hammet cast one questioning glance at Eadith before he stepped aside with a bow of deference to Jane. “Aye, my lady, I do. Dalkeath, free the lock and let her inside.”
He did so and soon the lock hung free.
Finally, Eadith gave her fingers a squeeze for courage, but when the door swung inward, nothing could have prepared Jane for what she saw.
Four men stood 'round the earl, each of them holding him tight to keep his straining body pressed against the mattress while Grayson fought with all his strength to break free.
Once, he managed to do so, but the manacles at his wrists and ankles pulled him back and he screamed in terrified outrage, mindless of the blood which ran in rivulets along his hands, his fingers, and his forearms. Incensed, he pushed his feet into the mattress, smearing the linens beneath him.
“Vin-cent!” he cried. “Vincent, where are you? Answer me! Dear God, answer me please! I am trying, brother, but I cannot get inside! Vincent! Oh God, please do not die!”
Frantic in the face of his horror, Jane turned on her heels, only to meet Eadith's wide stare. “My lady?”
Closing her eyes, Jane took a deep, shuddering breath before turning back to command the occupants of the room.
“Unbind him, now,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Set him free of the chains and then leave us.”
Chapter Ten
Grayson felt as if he were being both torn apart and scalded alive. The heat of the flames engulfing the hunting lodge seared him and he could still hear Vincent's cries, but something had a hold on him, restraining him, holding him back from diving into the flames.
Still, his eyes desperately searched for a break in the thick fog of curling black smoke and leaping orange fingers of fire. There had to be a way inside and he had to find it before it was too late, but there was none to be found.
Grayson?
From a distance, he could hear Jane's voice calling to him, and yet, somewhere in the dim recesses of his mind he knew she should not be here. The fire would take her away if she stayed, just as it had taken his brother.
“Jane, no! Go away!” he yelled, but she ignored his demands, catching his hands as he pushed at her.
Shh. I am safe. I am safe, Grayson. It is only a dream.
A cool sensation swept his brow, followed by a gentle touch. He could almost feel her beside him, Grayson thought, but such was not possible. He did not yet know her. Still, his delirious mind worked to convince him she was, indeed, there with him, watching the deadly inferno devour the lodge where his brother had lain sleeping until...
He fought the memory, preferring instead to think of the lady whose gentle voice continued to sneak into his thoughts. The sweet, womanly scent of her tempted him while the feel of her soft hands caressed his brow...but the fire was too hot, too dangerous, too deadly.
He pulled away and the searing heat seemed to cool. The leaping fingers of fire shrank before him, growing shy, and for an instant, the thick fog of smoke drifted away, leaving his vision clear. He could see her there, standing bravely on the threshold of the lodge.
I will help you free your brother, she whispered.
He screamed a denial, his hands reaching out to her to pull her out of harm's way, but before he could stop her, his brave, courageous wife turned and disappeared into the flames.
Grayson jerked upright. “No! Dear heaven, please, not Jane!”
Not Jane, not Jane! He repeated, whispering the words in a constant litany as he started forward into the conflagration, dread mixing with the terror already engulfing him as the flames rose up to deny him entrance, driving him back, just as it had each time he tried to get inside to free his brother.
The fire leapt high between them, barring his path, swallowing her, and Grayson felt something inside him snap. “Jane!”
* * *
Faster than she could blink, Grayson's body rose up off the bed and knowing no other way to calm him in order to get him back there under her own strength, Jane threw her arms around his middle and clung tight. Holding him close, she pressed her own weight against him. She needed him back on the bed.
“Grayson, I am here. I am safe. Look. See me, please,” she murmured, pressing desperate kisses against his bare chest which glistened with perspiration from his battles mixed with the salt of her tears.
He must have heard her through his hysteria, Jane thought, because he suddenly caught her fiercely to him and fell back. Jane pushed her advantage, crawling practically on top of him to keep him prostrate while hoping against hope the same deliriums which had convinced him he must attempt to rescue his brother, night after horrifying night for five long years, would also affirm the truth of her words.
Her voice husky and thick with tears, she continued to speak to him, desperately praying he could hear the choked words she whispered between kisses somewhere in the manic frenzy of his dreams. “He is free, Grayson
. Vincent is free now. Let him go. Please, just let him go....”
While her body restrained him, Jane soothed him with her hands. She healed his mind with her whispered words and with her kisses while unceasingly bathing his body in her tears. Almost as mindlessly as he, she continued the ritual, again and again for so long she almost did not recognize the change in him when it came.
At first, there was but a subtle shift, a calming during which he ceased to fight, to rise up against her in an attempt to break free of her hold, and then, a strangely quiet moment of calm tranquility descended.
He caught her chin between his fingers, lifting her face to his, and the tenderness in his dark gaze burned into her tear-reddened eyes while his thumb came up to gently sweep away the wetness from her cheek.
One arm came around her waist, holding her to him while, with his free hand, he pulled her head down until her lips touched his and soon Jane was swept up in a kiss that, at first, was so poignant and sweet fresh tears spilled without heed from between her tightly pressed lids, wetting his hands and washing away the blood staining his fingers. And then, it changed, burning her with the heat of passions long denied until, at last, she lay beneath him, breathless and gasping for more.
* * *
Jane came awake slowly, her thoughts rising from a blissful fog of contentment so delicious she was loathe to leave it for fear she may never find it again. But something tugged at the edge of her conscious and so, with a sigh of regret, she gave in to its persistent demand and opened her eyes.
The room was unfamiliar to her at first with its starkness and bare walls but soon the heat of the warm body beside her brought everything rushing back to her remembrance.
“Good morning, Countess.”
Grayson's low voice tickled some memory from the night before and a slow smile spread across her lips. She turned toward him, nestling one arm across his middle and raised up to press a quick kiss upon his brow. “Good morn, my lord. You slept well, I trust?”
“Indeed, I did, my lady, for the first time in years and I believe I have you to thank for it.”
Her smile widened.
“Jane,” He started, but she cut his words off with a kiss and a quick shake of her head before she snuggled ever closer to his warmth, resting her cheek on his chest while she reveled in how good it felt to wake up in his arms, at last.
"I believe I have fallen in love with you, my lord," Jane confessed some moments later, her finger trailing over his bare stomach where it lay exposed above the sheet.
Grayson shifted on the bed and she glanced up to find him watching her carefully. "And the beast?"
She was silent for a moment. Thoughtful. And then, she said, "Defeated, I think. No beast, real or imagined, would dare attempt to wrest you from me while I am in your arms."
Grayson chuckled at her confidence, but after the night just passed during which she had both saved his brother and his own sanity before loving him through the night, he was very much wont to agree.
The Reluctant Princess
Once Upon A Time...
...at the grand old age of six, Lady Helena Blackthorpe kissed a toad. But how was she to know the toad would soon transform into a very handsome, headstrong prince who would change her life forever?
The Frog:
As the heir to the Koslovian throne, His Royal Highness Prince Simeon Gustav Mikhail Pietroc could have practically anything he wanted...and what he desired to have was Lady Helena Blackthorpe, the youngest daughter of a duke. But Helena had other plans...
The Reluctant Princess:
Heart set and head filled with plans to catch the charming Lord Baldwin for her own, Lady Helena is devastated to learn of her own betrothal which her father arranged years ago. But the contracts are signed, the fellow has arrived, and Helena finds herself as good as wed -- to a prince, no less!
There was only one problem...
Helena most desired to marry for love while Simeon wanted to marry the woman he most desired. Still, a lady's heart cannot be won on the merit of kisses alone -- or can it?
Join Helena and Simeon within the pages of THE RELUCTANT PRINCESS where Ms. Dobbs proves once again that, where and when you least expect it, something magical occurs.
Prologue
It was not often her father received visits from the kings of foreign countries but on occasions such as today, Helena's sixth birthday, she fervently wished “infrequently” were “never.”
The Kozlavian king's visit would not have been quite as bad, Helena thought, had His Majesty come alone but today the king had brought along his son and heir and now Helena was expected to attend His Highness for a few moments while their fathers spoke of important political matters... until her brothers, Henry and Andrew, returned.
Not only that, she already had guests to attend – three of her dearest friends who had joined her to help celebrate the most auspicious occasion of her birth. Lady Melisande Ruebrige, having turned six a full month previously, headed the small group while Lady Arabella (who would not attain her most important sixth year for a few months yet) and Lady Diane (who would join her elder peers in age a mere se'ennight from today) followed the two older girls as if it were their duty to do so. And now, Helena feared she must instruct them to join her in the schoolroom next door where His Royal Highness Simeon Gustav Mikhail Peitroc awaited their attention and an introduction.
Helena, of course, already had been introduced to the prince, and having done so, found the prospect of bringing him to the attention of her friends even less desirable. She was not one to go on about the differences of others, personally, but she was all too well aware her friends, particularly Melisande, were especially wont to do so.
Still, her father had charged her with the very important task of making the son of his guest comfortable, and so, putting on her best “I-am-an-important-young-lady-with-important-hostess-duties-just-like-Mum” facade, Helena turned to the small group of girls, a hesitant smile quirking the corners of her lips upward, and said, “Come, ladies. Today, I have a very special surprise for you.”
“A special surprise?” Melisande queried suspiciously. “Surely you have not acquired a pony without telling us?”
Helena wondered how Melisande would rank the meeting of a foreign prince against the getting of a pony and knew immediately meeting the prince would come last for her friend. She bit at her lip. “Not precisely.”
Crossing swiftly to the door of the playroom where she and her friends had been enjoying a make-believe tea party with their dolls, she opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and said, “Follow me, please, and all shall be revealed.”
* * *
Inside the room where the duke of Blackthorpe's children took their lessons each morning and afternoon, Simeon raised his head the moment he heard the door open.
It was her, the quiet, shy girl his father had introduced earlier. She had been polite to them, of course, but he had noted some distraction pulled at her attention far more than her meeting with him and his father had done. Not that he cared, particularly. She was a girl, after all, and so he had merely nodded in her direction before following a servant here to the duke's childrens' schoolroom, where his father had instructed him to practice his letters until the girl's brothers arrived. But now, here she was again and he did not know why.
He tensed, suspicious, and when she stepped aside to reveal a trio of girls behind her, he drew up even more. Girls made him nervous, even in his own homeland, but here, where he did not even fully grasp the language, Simeon knew any dealings with them would be much worse. He did not speak. Rather, he waited for the purpose of their interruption to reveal itself. He did not have long to wait.
“Your Highness, allow me to present the ladies Melisande, Arabella, and Diane,” the girl he knew to be Helena said before bobbing a quick curtsey. “Merry, Bella, Di, this is His Royal Highness, Prince Simeon Gustav Mikhail Peitroc – prince and heir to the throne of Kozla.”
Simeon could feel his f
ace reddening. What were the English words his father had given him for such introductions? He could not recall. The nervous flutters in his belly which were even now causing his palms to sweat had erased the memory from his thoughts as surely as the drawing cloth would the chalk from the writing board he held.
“Merry greet, ladies,” he finally offered with a hesitant nod and the tallest of the three girls standing behind the daughter of his host erupted in a fit of girlish giggles.
“Merry greet? What sort of welcome is that?” She disdainfully eyed him from between narrowed lids. “A prince, you say, Helena? He is a fat one, what?”
Simeon pinned her with his own narrowed gaze and drew up to his full height, all three feet and eleven inches of it, and then held his silence, suddenly afraid anything he said would merely give the vicious girl more ammunition with which to ridicule him.
At the same time, Helena turned on her friends, but not before he saw the pitying look in her eyes. It angered him. He may well be a child at present but he was still a prince, destined someday to be king, and he would not allow this group of tiny females to belittle him. He was not deserving of their pity.
Drawing in a breath to tell them exactly that, Simeon realized, belatedly, that he had not the precise words in their language with which to deliver his important speech. To try would only add to their amusement and he refused to pour fuel upon that fire. He bit down upon his tongue, hard, but not before the beginnings of his set down escaped in his own language – a choked, guttural gush of anger and embarrassment.
The two more timid of the trio of girls lowered their eyes and hid their giggles behind their quickly raised hands, but not so the taller, outspoken one with red hair. Her laughter sputtered into the quiet of the room, making Simeon feel as if he were shrinking somehow in the face of her cruel humor.
Fancytales: The Once Upon A Time Collection Page 14
