by Aya Ling
* * *
A few days later, I receive a message from Lady Gregory. Meg would be visiting this afternoon, and if I don’t have anything planned, I’m welcome to drop by.
I quickly pen a reply, answering in the affirmative. I’ve spent all morning sorting the background material for the proposal for compulsory education, and I appreciate the chance to go out and let my brain relax for a while. I had borrowed books from the palace library, and Edward even got me a pass to use the archives in the University. My desk became so cluttered that I’m considering asking for a larger one, so I can better manage the books and articles I’ve accumulated.
As the carriage rattles on the street, I rub my hands on my gown, praying that I won’t run into the Mansfields. In The Ugly Stepsister, I had caused a scene by throwing wine on a ruthless, avaricious factory owner, right in the middle of Lord Mansfield’s party. I doubt Mansfield has any friendly feelings toward me.
We stop outside a huge mansion. The doorman yawns widely as he asks for my card. I stare at him, not expecting that I had to bring a card. Nor did I expect the doorman would be sleepy when it’s early afternoon.
“I am Princess Katriona.” I gesture toward the carriage, which looks fancy enough, since it’s from the palace. I hold out my hand, and my wedding ring flashes, the diamonds glittering under the sun. “My . . . sister is married to your master’s nephew.”
“Please wait outside, lady.”
A moment later, the doorman returns and apologizes for not recognizing me. “Her ladyship is pleased to receive you. If you’d follow me, Your Highness?”
The house is pretty quiet. There’s no one in the parlor or sitting room, not even a servant cleaning up.
“Isn’t your master home?”
“He’s gone for the weekend, Your Highness. On a hunting trip in the country.”
I’m reminded of that house party thrown by Philip and Constance, right before Edward and I were engaged. As I’ve grown accustomed to Athelian culture, I’ve learned that the hunting party is a common pastime among aristocrats during autumn. With Parliament closed, the Season over, and few things to occupy the time, shooting for grouse and stag in the moorlands has become popular. It’s also an excellent way for the men to demonstrate their athletic spirits.
It may also be why Lady Gregory specifically chose this weekend for her half-fae, half-human daughter to visit. The servants seem to have their own vacation as well, judging from the lax attitude of the doorman and the lack of servants present in such a large house.
Lady Gregory is knitting a bright yellow sock when I enter her room. She looks up and smiles, gesturing that I take a seat.
“Hello, dearie. Sit down and have some tea. Meg should appear shortly.”
“How do you communicate?”
She points to a handheld mirror on the dresser. I remember that when Meg agreed to help me get Elle to the ball, she traveled through the mirror as well. I hope that she won’t get stuck this time.
We chat for some time. Lady Gregory asks how the outing went, and I tell her that it was a success.
“It’s mostly because of Edward and Henry—you should have seen how the girls looked during the lessons.”
“Ah, to be young and filled with romantic feelings.” Lady Gregory catches the ball of yarn, which is in danger of rolling off the table. “You should organize another one.”
“Maybe we can try something different next time,” I say, crossing my legs. “Is there a skating rink in the capital? It’s going to be winter soon, and the girls might enjoy an excursion. They’ll need the exercise too. Some parents think it’s necessary to keep their daughters indoors.”
She looks puzzled, and I realize that I’ve blundered. I shouldn’t be asking her about a skating rink when I’m more likely to know the answer than her.
To cover up, I change the subject and pretend to admire one of her crocheted bags hanging on another table placed under a window.
“It’s really beautiful,” I say, fingering the intricate patterns and the perfect combination of colors. “If I weren’t so busy, I’d take up crocheting as well. I have a pair of godchildren . . .”
Lady Gregory slumps across the table, and her knitting needles clatter on the floor.
“Oh, my God.” I hurry to her side and check her pulse. She’s alive, but her face has gone deathly pale. “Lady Gregory? Can you hear me?”
She doesn’t budge. Her eyes remain closed, her mouth slightly open.
Alarmed, I rush out of the room, calling for help.
To my annoyance, the servants—that consist of the doorman and one maid—are slow to emerge.
“Call the doctor! Lady Gregory has fainted away.”
They stare at me in disbelief. The doorman is still rubbing sleep from his eyes, and the maid even looks tipsy. God, what’s up with this place? Once the master is absent, the servants act like it’s Christmas.
I decide to run for a doctor myself. I dash outside and yell for Bertram, who immediately drives for a doctor. I’ve never been more thankful that Edward used to accompany Henry with his visits, as it turns out that Bertram is super quick in finding a doctor.
The doctor checks Lady Gregory, who is still unconscious, her arm hanging limply to a side. For a moment, I’m scared stiff she is dead, but after the doctor applies a tube to her mouth—I suspect it has to do with pumping air into her lungs—he tells us to transport her to a hospital immediately.
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask.
“Heart attack,” he says succinctly. “It’s a good thing you called for me right away, or she could be dead. We need to start additional treatments to restore her blood flow. Can your servant carry her to the carriage?”
“No problem.” I get to my feet and call Bertram.
When Bertram carries Lady Gregory from her room, I glance at the handheld mirror, which is glowing on the bed. For a second, I wonder if I should bring the mirror, but I soon decide against it. It’ll be a disaster if Meg appears in a hospital room. It’ll be the doctor’s turn to have a heart attack.
It doesn’t take long before we arrive at the hospital. When Lady Gregory finally recovers consciousness, I breathe a sigh of relief, then send a message to Mansfield House, informing them that Lady Gregory is all right, but the doctor thought it best that she remain at the hospital for the night.
“I cannot thank you enough, dearie.” Lady Gregory grasps my hand when I have to go. “At my age, there’s little I crave in life, but I’d consider it a tragedy if I couldn’t see my daughter before I die.”
“I’m glad I came to see you,” I say, and I mean it. Even if the servants at Mansfield House were vigilant, it’s unlikely that they would discover Lady Gregory until it was too late. “Take care. I’ll come back to see you sometime.”
37
Back at the palace, I trudge up the stairs to the suite, feeling tired. I should continue preparing for the proposal, but to be honest, it’s hard to keep my attention focused on the dry, tedious texts. After struggling for a while, I pick up The Woman in Red instead. It proves to be such an intriguing page-turner that I barely register the knock on my door.
“Kat.”
Edward walks toward me, a curious light gleaming in his eyes. I was feeling drowsy, but any thought of dropping off to sleep is banished when I discover what he is carrying.
“Is that . . . cake?”
He smiles and sets a plate on the table. The piece of cake looks positively sinful, with luscious chocolate curls heaped on top with several dark cherries. “Happy birthday,” he says in a low voice.
My heart leaps. Katriona’s birthday falls some time in spring, but as Katherine Wilson, my birthday is today. “You remembered?”
“Last year, you told me when your birthday was, as well as what you usually do to celebrate it.” Edward pulls out a candle from his pocket, along with a box of matches. “You mentioned that there were candles shaped to resemble numbers in your world, but I’m afraid I was unable to procur
e one. I hope this will be acceptable.”
Wordlessly, I watch him jab the candle on the cake and strike a match. The flame flickers, illuminating the side of his face. He could be plain, ugly, or even scarred . . . whatever he looks like, he will always be number one in my heart.
“Make a wish, Kat.” He smiles at me.
I kneel beside him, clasp my hands, and shut my eyes. Please, I say in my mind. Please let me stay with him forever.
Blowing out the candle, I settle back on my haunches.
“Can I ask what you wished for?”
I giggle and prod his arm lightly. “I think you can guess what it is.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Does it concern me?”
“Of course.” I take the silver fork that lies next the cake and cut the cake into half. “Did you order the kitchen chef to make this especially for me?”
“I told them I had suddenly developed a sweet tooth. It is an unusual request, but fortunately they were accommodating.”
I giggle. “I’d love to see the pastry chef’s face.”
Forking a delectable piece with a dollop of chocolate cream, I put it in my mouth. Oh, my God. I could present the chef a medal—the cake is that good. An explosion of rich decadence, sweet and addictive, goes straight through my mouth, sparking my senses. I can’t help it. I let out a moan.
Beside me, Edward inhales sharply. I realize that what I’m doing is fanning the flames, but at this moment I no longer have any reservations.
I scrape a generous piece of cake and hold it out to him. “Have some birthday cake, Edward.”
He blinks, as though he didn’t hear me.
“Huh?”
“Open your mouth.”
Edward obliges. I feed him the cake, watching him munch in a mechanical manner. He’d probably stand on his hands if I told him to. It looks like the rational part of his brain took a holiday.
“Delicious, isn’t it?”
“Very,” he says hoarsely and swallows.
There’s a smudge of chocolate cream on the corner of his mouth. I dab it away, and that’s when he snaps.
The fork clatters on the floor. Edward gathers my face in his hands and kisses me. He tastes of dark chocolate—sweet, decadent, and utterly addictive. I kiss him back, wanting nothing but the feel of his lips on mine.
“Ow!”
Edward lets me go, his expression contrite. Somehow, we’ve ended up on the floor, my back flat against the carpet and hairpins sticking into my scalp.
“Sorry.” He helps me sit up. “Did I hurt you?”
“Terribly. My tender skin cannot withstand the pricks from these tiny hairpins.”
“Then allow me to assist you with their removal.”
He starts pulling the pins from my hair, slowly yet deliberately. Heat rises in my cheeks. Amelie and Mabel have done this countless times, but Edward’s actions are entirely different—I am acutely aware of his fingers moving over my hair and brushing against the rim of my ear, the nape of my neck, the curve of my cheek. It almost feels like he is removing my clothes. Unrestrained by the pins and hairnets, my hair springs free in thick, wavy ringlets, falling over my back and curling on my shoulders.
“I believe this is the last one.” Edward sets the hairpin on the table. I look up at him and smile. His eyes darken and he moistens his lips. He’s like a traveler who finally discovered an oasis after hours of trekking in a desert.
He tips my head and crushes his lips over mine, and this time there’s nothing gentle about his kiss. He devours my mouth with a fierce, all-consuming intensity, like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this kiss. As he closes the space between us, my head bumps against the bed post, which is made of solid black walnut and intricately carved.
“Ow!”
I rub the back of my head. First the pins, then the bed post. “Why are we sitting on the floor when there’s a bed nearby?”
His eyes crinkle with amusement. “Indeed.”
A gasp escapes me when he suddenly lifts me up in a powerful swoop. A second later, I’m lying on the bed, my hair spread over the sheets, my breath coming out in short bursts.
A shadow blots out the violet canopy over my head. Edward leans over me, his fingers undoing the buttons on my collar.
“You’ll have to help me,” he says. “I have no experience unlacing a corset.”
I smile and kiss him. “With pleasure.”
He loosens my heavy gown, and I lift my arms so he can peel it away from my body. Due to the cool autumn weather, I’m wearing a fine cotton chemise, a flannel petticoat, a silken petticoat, and a long-sleeved camisole, but still, he gazes at me like a starved man who is presented with a five-course gourmet meal.
“I love you, Kat,” he rasps, running his hands over my body. “I never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”
My heart contracts. I ache so much for him, not just physically, but also for the pain I’ve caused him. Come to think of it, I didn’t reciprocate his affection for at least half of the time that I’ve known him, and when I did, our time spent together was blighted by the knowledge that I’d eventually have to return to my own world.
“You have me,” I tell him, arching into his touch. “Heart, body, soul.”
His breath catches in his throat. No more words are said between us—our actions replace what words were meant to convey. The bed creaks as we fall on each other, kissing and touching like there’s no tomorrow. Like we’re the only beings in the universe.
When we are finally joined together as one, I feel complete. This is where I want to be. I no longer want to go home, back to the modern world. Edward is my home.
38
I wake up, and for a second, my breath hitches. I’m stark naked in bed, and as my gaze strays over the floor, there is a heap of clothes including garments that aren’t mine. There’s the heavy gown I was wearing earlier, the laces torn out by impatient, hasty fingers. And when I turn to the other side, I’m greeted by the shocking—I mean mouthwatering—appearance of the prince of Athelia, his face as perfect as a chiseled sculpture. My husband. My love.
Memories of the previous night return, and a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration sweeps over me. It has been the wildest, sweetest experience ever. I don’t think we got to sleep until well past midnight.
Edward opens his eyes. A smile breaks over his face, lighting his countenance like a rising sun. “Good morning, love.”
I yawn, and then, remembering something else, I can’t help giggling.
“What is it?” He kisses me. “Is my hair sticking in all directions?”
“No, I just remembered that day when I told your mother that you kept me up until late night.” I make a face at him. “Last night, I didn’t know whether you’re a prince or a caveman.”
His grin broadens. “Do you remember that day when you set up your own space in my office because you thought I was too tired from our nightly talks and needed assistance with my work?”
“Of course I do. And you told me the conversations had nothing to do with your not getting enough sleep.”
“Because I wasn’t able to fall asleep, whether we stayed up or not. The more time I spent with you, the stronger my desire grew for you. Every night, when we had to retire to our own bedrooms, I had to restrain myself from the urge to seize you. When I lay alone and stared at the canopy above, I couldn’t think of anything else except having you in my bed. I yearned for a moment like this—waking up with you by my side. I wanted you so much, but I couldn’t take you to bed.”
I prop up on my elbow and lean over him, tracing his nose and lips. “I know. But I just can’t . . . I can’t sleep with you unless I’m in love with you.”
“I knew that I should appreciate your integrity, but I wished that you could have fallen in love sooner.” He snakes an arm around me, pressing me close against his chest. “So, when the goblin comes, you will tell him you’re not going with him?” There is a note of hesitancy in his tone, like he still doesn’t full
y trust that I won’t change my mind.
“Of course.” I raise my head to give him a stern, reproving glare. “You’re stuck with me, Edward. I don’t even care if you eventually get tired of me.”
“Never.” His voice is raspy, hoarse. “That will never happen.”
“There is just one thing I need to do before I commit myself to you. I want to go back to my family to say goodbye.” Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, I quickly add, “Just once! I promise that I’ll only take the time to say farewell to my family and friends, and I’ll come back.”
He exhales. “Do you think the goblin could let me come with you? I would like to meet your family.”
My heart leaps at the possibility. “I would like my family to meet you as well. Mom would like you, I’m sure of it. You could do that courtly bow of yours and kiss her hand, and she’ll definitely be charmed. But don’t do that to Paige. She’ll laugh, and besides, her boyfriend might bite your head off.”
“There was a time I resented your family,” he says. “If it weren’t for them, you would have agreed to marry me. But later, I made myself see sense. Even if you accepted my proposal, according to the spell, you have achieved the happy ending and had to go back anyway. And if it weren’t for your mother and sister, you wouldn’t have become the woman I’ve come to love. I should thank your mother for bringing you into existence. I could even thank the goblin for transporting you here.”
“Oh Edward.” I laugh. “I know I’m special to you, but seriously, stop putting me on a pedestal. You’re making me sound like some unearthly phenomenon, like a goddess.”
He kisses me, slowly and deeply, until I’m panting for breath. “Never underestimate how precious you are to me. Where am I to find a woman with such an extraordinary mind and character?”
Oh my. Looks like last night wasn’t enough for him. A moan escapes me as he kisses a fiery trail downward, but suddenly he goes still.
“What is this?
“Huh?”
He traces the mark on my shoulder. “What happened to your shoulder? This doesn’t look like a bug bite.”
