Fancytales: The Once Upon A Time Collection

by Leighann Dobbs

  ...until all the excitement and confusion, thwarted anticipation and angst of the past three days rose up to remind her precisely why she should not presently be considering his request with the eager anticipation of a child on her birthday.

  Quite the opposite, Helena realized, she should rather be expressing her pique and discontent, not to mention the moments of hurt and her injured pride and the horridly malicious anger her bouts of intense jealousy had wrought this evening.

  "If you truly wanted me so badly, Simeon, why would you have disappeared without a word for three whole days while you are supposedly attempting to win my favor?” She peered up at him, seeking the answer in his eyes and found none, which only served to rile her chaotic emotions all the more. “I think not. We might well be discovered, Your Imprudentness, and where would that leave me? Why, I might even be forced to marry you!"

  Simeon gave her a heated look and growled. "You will marry me whether you allow me into your room or no."

  "Will I?” Once more, her brow arched high. "You are so certain of my capitulation, then?"

  “Helena-” he started, but she shook her head, forestalling his words. But before she could manage another heated explanation of precisely why she would not be agreeing to marry him anytime within the near future, a voice rang out from behind Simeon's shoulder.

  "I believe the ballroom is this way, Prince Simeon."

  Henry's calmly delivered announcement caused Helena to flush and hide her face against Simeon's chest. Simeon, on the other hand, appeared to be completely unconcerned to have been discovered mere seconds after his scandalously indecent proposition by her older brother. He only nodded and said, "We shall be along directly, Henry. Helena seems to have something in her shoe."

  "Yes, of course," he said, but Helena could have sworn she had seen Henry's lips twitch before he added, "I believe they are called toes, Your Highness, but I shall give the two of you a moment to discover it for yourselves."

  As soon as her brother disappeared out of sight, Helena groaned and squeezed her eyes closed, mortified at having been caught here in a darkened corridor with the prince in such a compromising position.

  That it had been Henry who made the discovery was worse as he had also been the one to overhear her heated refusal of the prince's suit from the beginning, and yet, here she was, languishing in such close proximity to Simeon she knew the truth of their actions could very well be in doubt and all too easily misconstrued.

  Simeon caught her chin in his hand, bringing her attention back to him, and slowly ran his thumb over her lower lip while urging her once again to leave her window open for him. “Do not lock me out of your life, Helena. You have given me precious little time to win you as it is.”

  “A feat which you mean to accomplish – in less than a se'ennight, mind you – with kisses?” she pointed out, reminding him yet again of just how little time remained for him to make his case.

  “Will that be enough?” he asked, continuing the seductive motion of his thumb on her mouth while he devoured her with his eyes.

  Helena's breathing had slowed and her heart raced in response to the slow glide of his thumb and the heat in his gaze. She thought she might enjoy capturing his thumb between her lips to taste him.

  She wondered how he might react if she did, and if she were not quite so afraid her daring might land her in a situation with which she did not care to deal, she would have given in to her impulses then and there. But she was afraid – very much so.

  Afraid he had made far too big an impact on her life already, afraid he had ruined her with his kisses because she would always compare others to his, afraid she would miss him and his arrogant self-confidence most dreadfully once he returned home.

  His proposal was tempting, and yet, Helena knew she could not agree. It would take more than a few heated kisses to win her heart. Lowering her eyes to break free from the temptation in his gaze, she shook her head and regretfully whispered, “No. No, Simeon, I am afraid it will not.”

  * * *

  Exhausted but unable to sleep, Helena turned onto her side and tucked one arm under her pillow while the other curled over it, almost as if she were holding someone rather than something, she realized, and her thoughts drifted immediately to Simeon. She sighed.

  A fortnight ago, she had been certain she would spend the next several weeks of her life basking in the attention and undying devotion of Lord Baldwin as he plied her with promises of love and a happy future – right up until the day she had found herself quite irreversibly bound to a man who had no concept of the meaning of failure and refused to take no for an answer.

  Prince Simeon Gustav Mikhail Pietroc, a man who believed it was possible to win a woman's heart in a matter of days and had singled her out as his one shining example to prove him right, a man who surprised her with his thoughtfulness and then, by turns, infuriated her with his high-handed arrogance had completely disrupted her life.

  He was also the man who had created an unforgettably magical moment beneath the moonlight on her balcony, given her her first taste of passion in her first real kiss, and somehow made her want to believe he truly desired to be with her above all else.

  Smoothing her face against the covering, Helena pretended for a moment that it was Simeon's warm, solid shoulder rather than cool, feather-stuffed fabric her cheek rested upon, and sighed.

  Over a short span of days, Simeon had deprived her of her freedom to seek a husband of her choice and the love of her best friend, shown her what it was like to seethe with the fire of jealousy and the slow burn of passions newly found...but then, from the moment the prince had come into her life, nothing had gone quite the way she had imagined it would.

  Lady Daggleby's ball tonight was the perfect example.

  For the first time in weeks, she had attended the festivities without a plan for winning Lord Baldwin's affection being uppermost in her thoughts. Simeon, on the other hand...

  Her betrothed had practically avoided her the entire night while he danced with all of her friends, making her ache with disappointment and seethe with jealousy until, with a simple touch in a darkened alcove, he had wiped it all away.

  So easily he had made her forget her pique, she marveled. So quickly had he taken her from feeling a bit unwanted and ignored to the same breathless, eager anticipation she had felt beneath the stars on her balcony as she waited for his kiss.

  Closing her eyes, Helena quivered with remembered reaction to the way her body had felt when he had looked at her, when his eyes had seemed to caress her the same as his thumb on the curve of her lip. Even now her lips tingled in anticipation.

  Yes, she admitted to herself in belated response to his scandalous inquiry from hours long passed, she did pine for him. Her body did ache to know the experience of his touch.

  Over the course of the past few days, her mind had become filled with thoughts of him alone, and yes, it was his touch for which her body had begun to yearn. But the part of her he had yet to reach, the only part which truly mattered, was her heart.

  He had yet to show or illicit any emotion deeper than desire and with so few days remaining until his allotted time expired, Helena feared he never would.

  Chapter Eight

  Simeon was waiting for her at the table in the Blackthorpe dining room early the following morning. Being unaware of his presence, Helena had come down for breakfast in naught but her night rail and a simple dressing gown of brightly colored yellow silk and he could not help but compare the vision of her sleep-warmed loveliness this morning to a bright ray of sunshine spilling into his life.

  Her hair, not yet combed and bound in the style of the day, spilled down her back in a riotous fall of warm chestnut, tempting him to to comb his fingers through the luxurious mass while her eyes, still warm and languid from sleep, focused sharply on him first in surprise and then narrowed in wary suspicion.

  He arched a brow in inquiry. “Good morning, Helena. I trust you slept well?”

  “
The sun is barely up, Your Highness,” she mumbled, gathering her plate and silver before turning her back on him to fill her place from the selections laid out on the sideboard. “Why are you here?”

  Preoccupied for the moment with the way her bright yellow dressing gown pulled taut against the sides of her breasts when she reached across to the back of the sideboard for a warm slice of salted pork, Simeon did not immediately answer. Nor did he reply when she stretched further still for coddled eggs, a soft, buttered muffin, and jam, and the silken fabric hugged close, outlining the gentle curve of her hip beneath.

  Her plate filled, she crossed to the opposite side of the table from him and took a chair across from his. She settled herself and then lifted the warm muffin to her mouth which he waited for her to open, to watch her take a delicate bite, but she did not. Instead, she held the thing suspended a mere breath from her soft pink lips until, finally, reluctantly, his eyes rose to meet hers.

  “Gentleman callers generally do not begin to arrive before ten and it is barely eight,” she nudged, reminding him of the context of her inquiry.

  “Are you insinuating I am no gentlemen, Helena, or merely protesting my being here at all?” He did not wait for her to respond. Instead, he dropped his napkin atop his own empty plate and stood. “I stopped by to speak with your father, Helena. And you. I have come to surrender.”

  “Surrender? I was not aware we were engaged in battle, Simeon.” Her brows drew downward in a frown and she carefully lowered the muffin she was holding to her as yet untouched plate. “I-I do not understand.”

  His gaze flitted away. Pulling out the chair nearest her, he turned it so that it faced her and sat. “Last night, after your departure--”

  He had felt the loss like an ache he could not salve but he had also known this 'thing' between them wherein he chased her with his passions on his sleeve and she fought back with a cool challenge, daring him to try and touch her heart could not end well for either of them.

  Looking into her eyes, Simeon lost the direction of his thoughts. He wanted – no, he needed to tell her things had changed – but he wished there were another way. Why did this particular conversation have to be difficult for him? Last night, it had seemed so simple – he would tell her she was released from the betrothal contract, free to choose a husband however her heart might lead, and yet...

  Late into the night, he had lain awake, plagued by the decision he knew he had to make although he had known making it would likely take her away from him forever. Still, she deserved the chance to make a real choice in the matter of to whom she would entrust her heart, and he could do no less than give it to her.

  Now, looking into her eyes, knowing what he was about to do may well be the biggest mistake of his life, Simeon almost wished he could be like other men. Wished he could simply let the matter stand as it were and be done with it. Her father had agreed to the betrothal.

  Were he any other man, he would demand she honor the contract between himself and her father, as was her duty as the daughter of a duke. If he were a different man, he would demand that she marry him, regardless of the whims of her heart, and that would be that. But he found, much to his consternation, he could not.

  Clearing his throat, Simeon started again. “I want you, Helena. I have made no secret of my desire for you, but the chance that your affections swiftly won will be just as quick to wane is a gamble I have no wish to take.”

  There was a sheen of luminescence in her suddenly confused gaze that had not been present a moment before, Simeon noted. He ruefully shook his head.

  “You were right, Helena. A heart cannot be won on the merit of kisses alone, nor should it be. Therefore, I surrender my claim upon yours.” His smile seemed off center, as if it wavered between a sincere attempt to reassure her all was well and regret for his decision. “You are free to choose or not choose, as you so desire, to whom you will entrust your heart.”

  “But I-I thought... the betrothal contracts, and my father, and I... you are leaving England?”

  “Not immediately. If you will recall, I asked you to give me at least a month of your time, during which I had hoped to court you properly. My father does not expect us—me,” he hastily corrected, “until summer.”

  He would to let her choose?

  But why would he wish to do so now, after her father had already given his consent? Indeed, the betrothal contract had already been signed, had it not? What could possibly have happened to make him change his mind?

  Filled with a sense of unease, Helena pushed away her plate and stood to pace from her chair to the sideboard and back again thrice before she finally came to a halt before him, her fingers nervously pleating the sunny material of her dressing gown. “I find myself at a loss, Your Highness. What is one to say when...”

  Her words trailed off and Helena sat down hard in her chair, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach while her heart was nigh to overcome by the fierce wave of emotions rushing through her at his words. Completely bewildered, she looked up at him, the fullness of her confusion clearly showing in her gaze. “Does this mean you are no longer interested in pursuing your quest to win my heart? You are giving up? Just like that?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “I-no! I--” she shook her head, fighting back the sting of tears pricking her eyelids and looked up at him, perplexed. “To be quite honest, Simeon, I am not certain at this moment precisely what I want. I am certain, however, that I do not wish for you to leave before...”

  “Before?” He prompted, peering into her eyes as he waited.

  Her cheeks flooded with heat.

  Could she dare tell him that while hearts were certainly not won with kisses alone, the comforting feel of being in his arms while the heat of his body pressed close and his hands and lips wove a fragile spell of enchantment around her mind it seemed only he could create was at least a step in the right direction?

  Dare she reveal how close he had come to winning her now, at this moment wherein he seemed to be on the verge of walking away?

  Her eyes searched his for answers. Finding none, Helena knew she must rely on her own intuition. Since the night he had swept her away in a dance, he had been ever uppermost in her thoughts.

  Since the night he had kissed her in the moonlight, her body had wanted only more. Was it possible, after all, that one last kiss might be the one to win her heart?

  “Tonight,” Helena finally admitted in a hushed whisper. “I do not wish for you to leave before tonight.”

  Chapter Nine

  At first, Simeon did not comprehend her meaning. But soon, his whispered plea from the night before winged through his thoughts and suddenly her hesitation, her flushed cheeks, the way her gaze darted away from his and then back again made perfect sense.

  “Unlock your window for me tomorrow night, Helena...”

  The reaction of his body to his realization that she had just more or less admitted she wanted him was immediate. The minx. Did she know what her whispered admission had done to him?

  His body tensed with a sudden, fierce ache and his gaze burned into hers, but with her father ensconced in his study right across the foyer from the dining room, Simeon dared not take her in his arms and kiss her then and there as he yearned to do. Instead, he took both her hands in his, caressing her bare knuckles with his thumbs, and asked, “Are you quite certain, Helena?”

  “I am sure.”

  “The consequences, should we be discovered, could well destroy all hope of the very gift I came here to give you this morning; the choice of your heart,” he cautioned, lifting her hands to his lips to press a kiss against each delicate knuckle. “You might find yourself forced to marry me, after all.”

  “Egads, not you two.”

  Ignoring the way Helena snatched her fingers from his grasp, Henry strolled into the dining room, disrupting their cozy tableau and promptly rolled his eyes heavenward at the rather loverly display the two of them had presented.

  “Good
morning, Helena. Your Highness.” With a nod toward each of them in turn, he said, “Pray, do not attempt to explain the goings on between you two this morning, Your Princeness, as I presume you have only just discovered my sister is possessed of fingers as well as toes.”

  Returning his nod of greeting, Simeon relaxed in his chair, but he did not release Helena's hands. “Quite the contrary. I was inviting Helena to see the sights at the museum with me this afternoon, and she has agreed. Along with Andrew and yourself, of course.”

  Helena's brows drew downward. “Where is Andrew this morning? In fact, I haven't seen much of him in days. Has he taken ill and no one thought it prudent to inform me?”

  A look passed between him and Helena's brother and he shook his head slightly, in silent warning for Henry to say nothing but he only grinned and took up a plate from the sideboard.

  “Recovering, I presume.” He shook his head. “Our Andrew is as hearty as the next man, I'll warrant, but it appears the Koslavian prince here has a far more swift capacity for healing than our baby brother.”

  Her confused gaze passed quickly between the two men before coming to rest upon Simeon. “You and Andrew were hurt?”

  He shrugged and looked away and Helena pinned her brother with a narrow-eyed glare. “Henry Wainsworth Blackthorpe, explain yourself. Is Andrew unwell? And what were the two of you doing, Simeon?”

  Simeon sighed, taking it upon himself to clear up some of her confusion. “A few nights back, Henry and your brother were returning home from the theater a bit early. Henry thought he saw someone lurking in the shadows beneath your balcony so he sent Andrew to check the area.”

  “While I, of course, hurried upstairs to make sure all was well with you, little Helena.” Plate filled, Henry joined them at the table. “I suppose Andrew found him, or maybe they found each other more like, but however it came about, poor Andrew hasn't left his bed in days.”

  Simeon watched as her face displayed a full gamut of emotion from perplexity to anxiety that her brothers had caught him out beneath her window to concern for his well-being before finally widening in horrified realization that it was he whom Henry and Andrew had seen, climbing down from her balcony.