Once Upon a Kiss

by Nora Roberts

  “Kendra was eyeing a fair warrior just this morrow.” Seeing the fire in her sister’s eyes, Glenna giggled. “And when she walked away, he turned and watched her.”

  “He did?” Kendra’s anger at Glenna’s tattling evaporated, and she grabbed her younger sister by the shoulders. “Truly?”

  “Aye.”

  “Oh, Arianna.” Kendra looked at her big sister hopefully. “Do you think you could learn his name?”

  “I suppose I could. If you don’t mind waiting…”

  She looked up at a quick knock on the door. When her father stepped through the doorway the others fell silent. He stood there, studying his firstborn daughter.

  Kendra was the first to speak. “Doesn’t Arianna look beautiful, Father?”

  He found it difficult to speak over the stone that had become lodged in his throat. “Aye. She reminds me of another.” He crossed the room and bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ve never seen you glow with such happiness, Arianna. Does this mean my promise to the laird of the MacLeans no longer displeases you?”

  She gave a delighted laugh. “Oh, aye, Father. How could I be displeased with Lachlan MacLean?”

  “Now that I’ve had time to get to know him, I quite agree. He seems an honorable man. His men consider him the finest of warriors. His people speak of him with love and pride.” He caught Arianna’s hands and looked into her eyes. “And best of all, he makes you happy.”

  “Aye. He does, Father.”

  They could hear the sounds of happy voices as the villagers filed into the kirk and took their places alongside the many lairds and fine ladies.

  Gordon Douglas gave his oldest daughter a final kiss, then draped an arm around each of his younger daughters and beckoned to Nola to follow. “It’s time we joined the others.”

  Arianna kissed her sisters, then hugged her nursemaid.

  Nola paused in the doorway. “Perhaps I should wait here with ye.”

  Arianna shook her head. “I need a moment alone, Nola.”

  The old woman nodded in understanding, then turned away and followed the others from the room.

  Arianna walked to the window, which overlooked a walled garden with stone benches scattered here and there among fragrant roses.

  It didn’t seem possible that on this day she would be wed to the man who owned her heart. All the darkness of the past seemed to have been swept away in one rare burst of sunshine.

  Hearing a sound, she turned to see Lachlan standing in the doorway. At the fierce look on his face she hurried toward him.

  “What is it, love? Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” He shook his head. “I was afraid I would blink and find you gone. How can someone so beautiful be real?”

  She laughed. “Oh, I’m real enough. Touch me, Lachlan.”

  He reached out to touch her cheek, and she moved against his hand like a kitten.

  “You see?” She turned bright, shining eyes to him.

  He nodded and lifted his other hand to her face. She was stunning, with all that fiery hair framing a face so lovely it took his breath away. Her eyes seemed even greener, with the gown and veil spun of stardust.

  The music of a lute could be heard, and they knew it was time to make their way up the aisle. Still, neither of them moved. They stood perfectly still, staring into each other’s eyes, as though there they could read the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

  His voice was little more than a whisper. “Before the priest and people, I will swear my love to you, Arianna. But know this. The words I speak can’t say all the things that are in my heart.”

  She felt her throat fill with such love, it was impossible to speak.

  “I love you, Arianna, with my heart, my soul, my entire being. And I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to make you happy here in my home.”

  He touched his mouth to hers. Just the sweetest of kisses, and she felt the heat all the way to her core.

  It had begun with a kiss. A kiss that had shattered her heart, and left it in pieces. And now it would be sealed with a kiss. One that would bind her to him for all time.

  “Come, my love.” He caught her hand, and together they started up the aisle, while the entire assembly smiled its approval.

  Arianna walked proudly beside Lachlan, the laird of lairds, and felt her heart swell with love.

  She had feared leaving her home and family to begin life in this strange new place. But what she had found was everything her heart desired. This man. His people. Enough love to last a lifetime and beyond.

  She’d expected to find herself lost in a savage wilderness. Instead, she’d found paradise.

  Her heart soared as she spoke the vows that would make her his wife.

  She hadn’t left home after all. In fact, in Lachlan’s arms she’d found it.

  KISS ME, KATE

  Marianne Willman

  To the women everywhere who have turned frogs into princes through a little magic—and a lot of hard work.

  And to Nora, Ruth, and Jill

  and our very own princes

  Bruce, Tom, Larry, and Ky

  Prologue

  THE MOON EMBROIDERED the night in black and silver while the stars sang a song as old as time. It was spring solstice, that magic night when the door between worlds opens. A mystic wind danced high over land and sea, carrying the starsong to the earth’s four corners.

  For those who heard it, life would never be the same.

  In Chicago, at midnight, Kate Singleton heard it as she lay snuggled in her bed beneath a warm down comforter, dreaming her favorite dream. The one where her ex-fiancé broke out in warts, her boss promoted her to senior editor, and she won ten million dollars in the state lottery.

  As the music wove itself into Kate’s dream she smiled and turned over.

  In England, near dawn, Michael Bellamy heard it as he walked through the ruins of Kingsbury Castle. He paused beside a windowless stone arch, looking out toward the shadow of the man-made hill where legend said ancient kings lay buried. Yes, there it was again, music both lovely and poignant, yet so faint he wondered if he imagined it. He closed his eyes and listened intently. But the harder he tried to hear, the more indistinct the song became. Suddenly restless, he whistled for his dog and turned toward home.

  In that same moment, a tall figure materialized beside the man-made hill, with the same song ringing in his ears. Light winked from the gems in his slender gold crown and the jewels at his throat.

  He stared in wonder at a night sky that was not a hollowed sapphire studded with diamond constellations—the only kind of sky he’d ever known till now—but a real sky, limitless and glowing with an infinity of stars.

  Gauzy ribbons of mist gathered around him, then vanished in a flash of brilliance as the first rays of dawn struck the spot. Gathering his courage he stepped across the tenuous boundary between this strange new world and his, passing from shadow to light.

  And turned into a frog.

  The creature sat there in amazement, blinking its golden eyes. It tried a hesitant leap and landed wrong-side-up, with its pale belly exposed. The frog gave an indignant croak and righted itself after a short struggle.

  After a series of more-or-less successful leaps, it vanished into the tall grass of the meadow.

  1

  Chicago

  KATE WOKE EARLY on the first day of April, convinced for at least twenty seconds that she had actually won ten million dollars in the state lottery. When the dream faded, her first keen disappointment gave way to the firm belief that the dream was an omen. Something wonderful was going to happen today; she was sure of it.

  Instead, everything that could go wrong, had.

  She hurried along Navy Pier in the gathering twilight toward the soft lights of the Café Roma, like a storm-tossed ship heading for safe harbor. The gusty wind followed her inside, whipping her sleek dark hair against her cheekbones and billowing the edges of the white tablecloths out like miniature sails.

&nb
sp; She spotted Jenny, her roommate and best friend, in the cozy end booth by the fireplace and slipped in opposite her. Jenny looked up from her handheld computer where she’d been crunching numbers.

  “You’re early, Kate. Should we ask for the menu or would you rather start off with wine?”

  “Wine. Buckets of it.”

  Jenny’s thin face lit up. “You got the promotion to senior editor!”

  “No.” Kate took a deep breath. “I got fired.”

  “What?”

  “As of today, Hartland Press no longer has a children’s book division.” Kate fought to keep her voice level. “In fact, there is no Hartland Press. The conglomerate that bought it last month decided we weren’t profitable enough.”

  Indignation sparked in Kate’s violet eyes. “Seventy-five years of creating modern classics for children, tons of prestigious awards—and we’re dumped by a company that makes glow-in-the-dark toilet paper!”

  Jenny winced and reached across the table to touch her hand. “Oh, Kate! I just don’t know what to say. I am so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what to say, either. Or do. I’ve been walking around the city for hours, mulling over my options, and they’re damned few. I can’t think of anything outside of publishing that I want to do.”

  “You could go to New York. I know you’ve considered it before.”

  Kate’s face brightened. “It might be time for a change. I suppose I could live off my savings while I look around for a new position. But whether in New York or Chicago, something interesting is bound to turn up.”

  Jenny clapped a hand to her mouth. “That reminds me. Something did!”

  She pulled a thick white envelope from her purse. “This came special delivery for you. From London. It must be really important: the postman wouldn’t hand it over until I signed for it in blood and promised him my firstborn child.”

  Kate laughed. “What was his name, Rumpelstiltskin?” She took the letter with its colorful stamps bearing the face of the queen of England. “Plunkett, Plunkett and Ritchie,” she said. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

  “Read it, for heaven’s sake. I’m dying of curiosity!”

  Jenny signaled the waiter and asked him to bring a carafe of the house wine, while Kate opened the envelope and pulled out several sheets of impressively heavy vellum.

  25 March 2002

  Dear Miss Singleton,

  It is my sad duty to inform you of the death this past November of our most esteemed client Agatha Culpepper. It has been the privilege of our firm to represent the late Miss Culpepper for more than sixty-five years. Under the terms of the will (a copy of which is enclosed herewith), you are chief beneficiary of the Culpepper estate, which consists primarily of Frogsmere, a furnished manor house with extensive gardens, situated upon twenty acres of land in East Sussex. There are also items of a more personal nature, such as jewelry and private journals, which she specifically willed to you.

  Due to the unfortunate delay in locating you, there are now urgent matters that must be set in order with all good speed, and that will require your presence in England at your very earliest convenience.

  All travel expenses will, of course, be charged against the estate. My secretary, Miss Golunka, will be delighted to make any and all arrangements for you.

  I shall look forward to hearing from you in the very near future.

  Sincerely yours,

  Alfred Plunkett IV

  Kate was dumbfounded. She read it a second time. A manor house with extensive gardens, situated upon twenty acres of land!

  Then she realized what day it was and tossed the letter down. “Very funny, Jenny. You had me going. For a minute, I really believed I’d inherited an English manor.”

  Her friend stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s April first. You had one of your E-mail pals overseas send this letter as an April Fool’s joke.”

  “No, but I wish I’d thought of it! I’m not that creative.” Jenny laughed. “Which is why you’re the writer and I’m a CPA.”

  Kate’s heart was pounding so hard her hands shook. She held out the sheet of heavy paper. “You won’t believe it unless you read it yourself.”

  While Jenny read the letter, Kate took a big swallow of her wine. A warm glow radiated through her, from the crown of her head to her toes, and it wasn’t from the wine.

  “I can’t believe it. It’s like a fairy tale!”

  Jenny frowned at the sheet of vellum in her hand. “Too much so for comfort. Who exactly is this Agatha Culpepper?”

  “My fairy godmother evidently.” Kate’s eyes danced. “And a pretty terrific one. An English manor house. Much more practical than a pumpkin coach and glass slippers.”

  “Are you saying you don’t know her from Adam?”

  “That’s right.” Kate poured more wine into both glasses. “She must be a cousin; my great-grandparents did come over from England. If my parents weren’t off digging up dinosaur bones in the wilds of Brazil, I could ask my mother about it. She knows all the ins and outs of the family relationships.”

  “You’re taking this seriously,” Jenny worried. “You know what they say—‘anything that seems too good to be true, is.’ This could be a scam.”

  “Yes, I thought of that.” Kate shrugged. “But it’s not as if they’re asking me for money.”

  “…yet.”

  “Come on, Jenny. What happened to make you so cynical? Didn’t you ever believe in Santa Claus, or look for elves under toadstools, or make a wish on a star?”

  “Sure. Until I was six and learned that my mother was the tooth fairy.” Jenny made a wry face. “And a cheap one at that—I got quarters when all the other kids on the block were getting dollars.”

  “Oh, the disillusionment!” Kate teased. “That explains everything.”

  “I may be a cynic,” Jenny retorted, “but you’re a hopeless romantic.”

  Kate grinned. “Why does ‘hopeless romantic’ sound like ‘complete idiot’ when you say it?”

  “Admit it. If you found a frog on the front doorstep, you’d kiss it just in case it might be a prince in disguise.”

  “It would be worth risking a few warts,” Kate said. “Princes are in short supply these days.”

  Kate checked the name and address on the envelope again. “I suppose it could be a case of mistaken identity—there’s bound to be another Katherine Singleton in a city as big as Chicago. But,” she added, “I’m sure Plunkett and Whosis had me checked out before sending the letter. Agatha Culpepper was probably some long-lost relative.”

  “Right. Or my mom the tooth fairy.” Jenny’s face went serious. “All I’m asking is that you look at this objectively instead of floating off in daydreams.”

  Kate shook her head. “The trouble with you, Jenny, is that you’re always expecting a lightning bolt to zap you, even when the sun is shining. Sometimes marvelous things like this happen, right out of the blue.”

  “Only in the movies. You’re like the kid in that old joke, digging through manure because you’re sure there’s a pony hidden inside it.”

  Kate put her chin in her hand and didn’t reply at first. After staring at the letter a moment, she sighed. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”

  She slid out of the booth and went to the fireplace and held the envelope out to the fire.

  Jenny bolted up and snatched it from her. “Wait! Save that address! Even if it is a scam, you owe it to yourself to contact this Alfred Plunkett. Just in case.”

  “There’s hope for you after all!” Kate laughed. “I wasn’t really going to burn it. Oh, Jenny! If this is genuine it could be the answer to my prayers.”

  England! Colorful images flowed through her mind. Castles and crowns. Bold knights, dragons, and maidens fair. Wicked wizards and magic spells. In fact, all the wonderful things she loved most about the old fairy tales.

  Not to mention that furnished manor house—and the twenty acres with extensive gardens.
Kate had always dreamed of having a lavish garden. Snug in her apartment during the snow and cold of Chicago winters, she loved to go through gardening catalogs, planning the one she hoped to have one day: masses of purple and blue larkspur, pink and white hollyhocks, velvety roses, and spiky lavender set in frothy masses of baby’s breath.

  She could scarcely contain her excitement. “What’s the time difference between Chicago and London, Jenny?”

  “Seven hours.”

  “Rats. It’s midnight there now.” Kate thought a moment. “I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. I’ll spring for dinner tonight, if you’ll see if you can find anything on the Internet about Agatha Culpepper, and the law firm of Plunkett, Plunkett and Ritchie.”

  Jenny made a wry face. “Actually, I was already planning to do that. There are some questions to ask.”

  Kate finished off her wine. “Why Agatha Culpepper, apparently a complete stranger, would will her estate to me?”

  “Bingo.”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said, “but I will find out.”

  “Good answer.”

  “That little voice that whispers dire warnings in your ear talks to us optimists on occasion, too,” Kate added.

  And right now it was shouting at her: “What’s the catch?”

  2

  MICHAEL BELLAMY PULLED his battered Land Rover up near the edge of the cliffs and got out. The wind came in fitful bursts, whipping his blond hair back from his forehead. The whump-whump-whump of helicopter blades echoed back from the ruins of Kingsbury castle and the sandstone walls of King’s Meadow Hall.

  “You’d better call your crew in,” he shouted to the figure leaning against the tailgate of a pickup truck. “There’s one hell of a storm blowing up.”

  The other man, short and intense, turned to watch the chopper as it circled over the white-crested waves of the English Channel and came racketing up over the cliffs toward them. He took another drag on his cigarette.