by Myles, Jill
“Aye, that’s it, lass,” he murmured, stroking his hand along her side as he continued to thrust into her.
He braced one hand on her breast, pinching the nipple even as he continued to slowly pump into her, driving her wild. Hope whimpered when he flicked her nipple with his thumb, then continued moving downward even as she raised her hips to meet his next thrust. “Want ye to come for me.”
She was trying, of course. She wanted to come too, but this was different than masturbation, which was all she had experience with. The sensations were deep inside her, and different, and even though she rocked with his thrusts, she needed more. So she dug her fingers into his shoulders and lifted her hips more viciously, slamming into his next thrust. That increased the friction, but it still wasn’t enough.
“I need…” she began, panting. “I need…”
“I know, lass,” he said, and he shifted his weight a little, the speed of his thrusts pausing as his hand slid between them. Then his thumb brushed over her pussy and slid against her clit. He held it there…and then thrust again.
This time, when she rocked her hips in time with his, his thumb grazed against her clit. Every nerve ending flared and she gave a wild moan, her eyes going wide as her body tensed. Oh God, that was good. Her legs tightened around him and her hips raised more violently into his next thrust, and she gave a little swerve of her hips, pushing against his thumb. Pleasure rocketed through her.
“Good lass,” he murmured, his voice strained even as he continued to pump into her, and she was beyond paying attention. All she knew was that finger and his cock stroking deep inside of her. Over and over again, throwing dual sensations deep into her body.
And then she shattered again. Her body erupted in a hard, fierce orgasm and she clenched around him.
The walls of her pussy tightened and shivered and she felt her body holding him, clenching him tight even as she came. He groaned and thrust shallowly, his motions becoming jerky. She felt the surge of him deep inside her as he came as well.
His thumb trembled against her clit, elongating her already exquisite orgasm, and eventually his hand fell away and he lay down over her, breathing hard, and kissed her, his weight pushing her into the small cot.
She grinned and kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and enjoying the sweaty feel of his skin against her own.
Callum kissed her one more time, and then studied her face. “We cannot tell anyone about this. If the prince knew that I’d taken your virginity…” He trailed off. “My life would be forfeit. I am not noble.
I am just the leader of a small clan.”
“Who am I going to tell? The prince? Not hardly.” She kissed his unshaven jaw again, enjoying the sensation of the stubble against her lips. “No one comes here to see me but you.”
“It’s because of the curse. People fear you have the evil eye upon you.” The evil eye? What the hell was that? She shook her head. “Someone’s cursed me to keep me here.
Nothing more than that.”
“Probably because ye’re so beautiful that you’d have any number of suitors were you to return to court.”
That was sweet. She melted under his tender gaze. “You think that’s it?”
“I know it captured my attention,” he murmured. “That and yer very forward ways. Now promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”
“I promise,” she said solemnly. “As long as you promise we can do this again.”
“Will ye be needing more bread and water tomorrow night then, my lady? I can bring more food from the castle,” he said with a slow, easy smile.
“Absolutely,” she said, pressing another kiss to his mouth. “Food. Bread. All of it.”
“Yer wish is my command, lady,” he said softly and nipped at her lower lip, sending a delicious curl of warmth straight down to her belly.
Perhaps this tower thing wouldn’t be so very terrible after all.
Chapter Three
The next morning, she woke up, rolled over in her cot, and yelped at the face looming out of the beam of the tilted pink flashlight. Muffin was at her bedside, peering down at her. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”
Hope sat up, rubbing her eyes and staring at the room blearily. Bits of sunlight filtered in from the shuttered windows of the tower. “Good morning, I think.”
She sniffed the air. It did smell like breakfast. “The eggs and bacon…did you bring those?” The fairy godmother waved something that looked suspiciously like a unicorn horn and a plate appeared.
Sure enough, eggs and bacon. “I thought you might be tired of bread and fruit.” Hope took the plate gratefully. There was even a fork and a knife. “I wasn’t going to complain about the food, not after you gave me a new heart and a second chance at life,” she said, then forked a mouthful of eggs into her mouth.
“That’s what I like about you, young lady,” Muffin said brightly. “Not a complainer.” She smiled and ate, trying not to stare at the fairy godmother’s clothing of choice today. She was dressed like, well, a sailor. The old woman wore a pair of starchy white pants, a white uniform top with star embellishments on the sleeves and a white captain’s hat. The badge over her shoulder said “Clarence”.
Hope didn’t ask.
“So tell me how things are going,” Muffin said, stuffing the unicorn horn into her belt and pacing at Hope’s bedside as she ate. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel amazing,” Hope said with a smile. It was true. Not a single twinge in her chest since arriving at this new place. Her body felt whole and delicious, and not the least bit strained when she’d put it through all kinds of vigorous bed play. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s not yours to keep unless you break the curse, of course. These things go south if you don’t manage to solve things in about a month, or so I’ve noticed. It’s not on indefinite loan.” Hope nodded and put aside her cleaned plate, resisting the urge to lick her fingers. “I met the prince.”
Muffin brightened. “Well, what did you think of him? In the fairy tale, Rapunzel marries the prince.”
“About that,” Hope said, twisting her hands. After a moment, she blurted, “I slept with his bodyguard.”
“You did what?”
Hope winced at the outrage in the fairy godmother’s voice. “Have you met the prince? He’s not exactly a dreamboat.”
“It doesn’t matter! He’s the prince! You’re Rapunzel! That’s how things are supposed to work in the fairy tale. I thought we discussed this?”
Hope bit her lip, saying nothing.
Muffin cursed in a language that Hope didn’t understand and whipped out the unicorn horn again.
She gave a harrumph and stared at Hope, then waved the horn at the nearby brick wall, completing a circle with the tip of the horn.
The circle lit up. A picture flickered and then began to move, just like a movie screen. It looked like the inside of Rapunzel’s tower. Muffin watched the movie for a moment, then circled her wand and the picture sped up. As Hope peered over her shoulder, she noticed that it was yesterday while she’d loitered in the tower. It was almost like she’d had a fairy godmother camera on Hope the entire time. As Hope watched the screen, the Rapunzel-on-camera threw her hair down the window and it grew like mad. A moment or two later, Callum climbed through the window.
Muffin freeze-framed the camera and gave Hope an outraged look. “How can you not want him?
He’s gorgeous. Look at those pectorals.”
“I agree,” Hope said, her heart fluttering at the sight of Callum’s impossibly silver eyes in the picture.
“That’s not the prince, though. That’s his guardsman.”
Muffin gave her a puzzled look and started the magic-vision again. It zipped forward and Callum dropped the rope ladder over the edge, then another man appeared.
Muffin freeze-framed it again just as the prince appeared at the top of the ladder, his yellow, crooked teeth protruding, a droplet of sweat–or snot–hanging from his beaky no
se.
“Oh dear,” Muffin said, and grimaced. “I see your point. I wouldn’t want to tap that, either.”
“And Callum’s so nice and handsome,” Hope said dreamily. “Strong and bold and smart.” What little she’d seen of him so far, she liked.
“I’m not going to lie, Hope dear, but this isn’t going to make things easy for you. What if the candlestick and the clock find out what you’re doing with his guardsman? They’re sure to tell the beast!” Hope blinked. “Um. I think you’re getting me mixed up with someone else.”
“Am I?” Muffin put away the wand again, pulled out a small book and licked her thumb as she flipped the pages.
“Let’s see…Rapunzel, Rapunzel…here we go.” She ran a finger down the page, then snapped her fingers.
An oversized pair of glasses appeared on her face, making her look like a bug. She squinted down at the book, reading. “Here we go. Rapunzel was trapped in a tower. There was no way in or out, but she let in the prince when he called “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” She scanned the page a bit longer, and then made a surprised harrumph. “I think you’re right. No talking candlesticks.” She flipped the page again, as if making sure. “Huh.”
“You told me I have to find out who cursed me, right? And that if I break the curse, I’m free to stay?
You didn’t say I had to marry the prince–”
“Girls always want to marry the prince,” she interrupted, flipping the pages of the book and shaking her head. “I’ll be damned. No clocks, either. And no teapot. I’m going to have to correct my reports.”
“…so I figured if I can find some way to break the spell, and if I get to stay here, maybe I can date Callum instead of the prince,” Hope continued. “What do you think?” The fairy godmother adjusted her bug-like glasses, peering at Hope. “No one dates, my girl. Not in fourteenth-century Scotland.
You’re either single or married. There’s no in between.” Fourteenth-century Scotland? Was that where she was? “Well then, I either marry him or we go our separate ways. It doesn’t mean I have to marry the prince, does it? I just have to break the spell so I can get out of this tower.”
“Callum isn’t rich,” the fairy godmother said bluntly. “Doesn’t everyone want to be rich in a fairy tale?” Rich was nice, Hope had to admit, but not if it came with that particular prince. She thought of Callum’s smile and his kiss. His touch. “I’ll take my chances being poor. It’s enough to be healthy and happy.” And oddly enough, it was. The thought of working on a little farm? It sounded horribly appealing to someone who had been bed-ridden for most of her life, unable to do more than cross a room without her chest aching. “I don’t care about money. I just want to be happy.” Muffin sighed dramatically and leaned in to pinch Hope’s cheek. “And that’s why you’re my favorite, my dear. Not a complainer at all, and such a trooper. I like you. Well, I tell you what. You work on lifting that curse, and I’ll get my reports amended so the beast doesn’t show up in a day or two.” Hope’s eyes widened. “Beast?”
“I could have sworn there was a talking candlestick in this one,” Muffin muttered, and then shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well. I really must run. Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone!” The fairy godmother wiggled her fingers and then vanished in a puff of glittery smoke.
Hope coughed, waving a hand at the air to clear it. When she could see again, she was alone, nothing but the glitter on her blankets to remind her of Muffin’s presence.
All right, then. She just had to find a way to break this curse and she’d be free and clear of everything.
Easy enough. Hope thought of Callum’s words last night about the evil eye. What was that, some sort of symbol? Could there be a cursed symbol hidden somewhere in the tower that made her hair grow?
Frowning, she got up from the bed and picked up the nearest stool, studying the underside of it.
She needed to check everything. If there was a curse, it had to be linked to her somehow. She needed to find out more about curses, but there was no one to ask. She was in this stupid tower all alone.
Hope sighed. She supposed it could have been worse. There could have been a talking candlestick and a beast.
***
At sunset, her room was in shambles, everything turned over and inside out. Sadly, she’d found nothing that could have been a cursed item of some kind. No pentagrams or black crystals or anything of that sort. Of course, she had no idea what she was looking for, but everything in the room seemed sadly normal.
And she was dejected. Of course it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. But still, one could always hope.
At least it gave her something to do.
A voice called up to her window. “Rapunzel! Rapunzel!” She recognized the Scottish burr in the man’s voice and her heart leapt in her throat.
Callum! She rushed to the window and threw open the shutters. Sunlight poured in and she felt her scalp tingle, even as the hair rushed downward. Shoving it out of her face, she glanced down at the base of the tower below, a welcoming smile on her face.
Callum stood down there, glancing up, a shuttered expression on his face. Next to him stood the prince, picking at his fingernails with a dagger.
Her smile dimmed. Damn.
The guardsman caught the first strands of her hair as they touched the ground and kept on growing.
He looked up to the window. “Are ye anchored?”
“Just a second,” she called, moving to the stick next to the window and wrapping her hair around it twice. Then she yelled down, “I’m ready!”
The hair tightened around the rod and she kept her hand firmly around it, holding it in place. A minute later, Callum appeared in the window.
He gave her a grin and a wink. “I brought the prince today, lady.”
“I saw that,” she replied in a dry voice. “You shouldn’t have. Really.”
“I regret that we’ll no’ be able to spend time alone tonight,” he said, and leaned in to give her a quick kiss before turning back to her hair and chopping it off.
Hope swung the thick mass back over her shoulders, admiring the flex of Callum’s shoulders as he lowered the ladder and patiently waited for the prince to climb. As he did, he cast a hot look over his shoulder at her, raking over her figure, and telling her that he was just as interested in their next rendezvous as she was.
Well, she’d just have to be patient, then, wouldn’t she? Hope forced herself to stand calmly, her hands clasped in front of her, even though she wanted nothing more than to run them down Callum’s broad, delicious back and maybe squeeze that tight, firm ass.
Just once. Maybe twice. Three times, max.
And then the prince arrived, and she pasted a bright smile on her face for him.
“My dove,” he cooed, extending his hands, and leaned in for a kiss.
Scrunching her nose up, she endured the prince’s chaste, closed-mouthed kiss. And even as she kissed him, she glanced over her shoulder at Callum.
Who was frowning darkly, his gaze possessive and hot.
Good. For some reason, it made her absurdly pleased that he was jealous.
Hope endured the prince’s idle chatter, pretending to be interested as he prattled on about his day at court, and all the fawning lords. The Englishmen that he had to endure visiting. The pope’s latest edict.
She tried not to yawn behind her hand, smiling and nodding encouragement as he continued.
The man was obviously in love with her. Or the old her. How to turn him down nicely so she could devote all her time to Callum? Hope peeked over at the sexy bodyguard through her lashes. His gaze was on her, and she felt all hot and flushed, remembering what they’d done last night.
Drat the prince for showing up anyhow.
“Have I ever shown you my hawks?” Walter asked, his voice nasal and odd.
She froze for a moment. Was that some sort of weird euphemism? Hope hesitated, her glance flicking to Callum, but he didn’t seem distressed. “I don’t re
call, my prince,” she said smoothly. “Are they…big hawks?”
“Oh, very large.” He puffed up proudly, his thin chest bowing slightly. “My favorite is Francoise.
She’s this darling little peregrine that can tear the throat out of her prey in moments.”
“Lovely,” she murmured. Her gaze flicked back to Callum. His lips were wet, gleaming. Had he licked his recently? At the thought, she licked her own lips in response, feeling her nipples harden.
Lordy, all this tension in the room was driving her wild. If she could only figure out a way to get rid of Walter, she and Callum could pick up where they left off.
And now she noticed Callum was watching her mouth, his gaze intent. She licked her lips again, and then brushed the pad of one of her fingers over her lower lip, her gaze on him.
Callum’s gaze burned as he stared at her, trying to hide his lust and failing miserably. Walter only had to look backward to see his guardsman’s interest in her, but the prince was oblivious.
“–not quite what our party had intended, of course, but hawking is such a challenge every day.”
Walter droned, then looked over at her, startled. “Are you listening, my pet?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Prince Walter,” she said quickly, thinking hard. “I was just…reminded of something when you spoke.”
