by Myles, Jill
Her pussy spasmed around him, her entire body clenching. She whimpered as the second orgasm ripped through her. Over her, Callum thrust again, then swore. She felt his seed spill deep inside her as he came and she clung to him. He collapsed on top of her after a moment, then rolled to the side so he wouldn’t crush her and pulled her against him. Their skin was sticky with exertion, her hair clinging to both of them, but neither of them seemed to mind.
Hope lay in his arms, thinking. They hadn’t used condoms. She wasn’t on birth control–there’d never been any need, not when she was an invalid. But here, well, she wondered if she should have been taking precautions. Muffin hadn’t said anything about it, though. Surely the fairy godmother wouldn’t let her get knocked up if she wasn’t a sure thing for staying here? It didn’t seem likely. And if she could heal Hope’s weak heart, surely she could stop a few sperm from swimming upstream.
She snuggled back into Callum’s arms, comforted at the thought.
He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “So tell me about this place you are from and the witch who brought you here.”
“Fairy godmother,” she corrected. “Not a witch. There’s no such thing as witches.”
“There’s one in the next village,” he said quite seriously. “A mean old crone who wanders at night and mutters to herself. Everyone in the village is terrified she’ll turn them into goats.” Hope snorted.
“It’s probably just some old widow.”
“She’s a witch,” Callum said. “An’ it sounds like a witch brought you here.”
“She did not–”
“You told me ’tis an old woman who cast a spell and placed you in the old Rapunzel’s body?” He grasped a handful of her thick, dark hair. “And this is enchanted to grow at the touch of sunlight?”
Well, when he put it that way, it did sound an awful lot like witchcraft. She bit her lip. “It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I’m not entirely sure I understand it myself.”
“Just be careful,” he said, running a hand down her arm. “Witches are not to be trusted. Anyone with a bit o’ sense will just avoid them altogether.”
She couldn’t avoid Muffin. After all, the old woman was the only help she had. But it wasn’t worth arguing over. She smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. “All I know is that I need to find out who cursed me and get them to break the curse. Then I can leave this tower behind.”
“And where will you go? A wee lass out in the wild is fair game for any man.” She burrowed against his chest. “I don’t know. How’s your place sound?” He stroked her hair, and sighed. “You’re a lady.
I’m naught but a laird of a small, poor clan. We are no’
the same. Ye wouldn’t be happy with me.”
“Technically, Rapunzel is a lady,” Hope corrected. “I’m not much of anyone in my time. And I want to go with you. I don’t care about money. I just want to be happy.” She had her health, and a handsome man in her bed. What more did she need, really? “And I’m happy with you.” He grinned, looking utterly gorgeous and kissable as he smiled down at her. “I’ll get in quite a lot of trouble with the prince if I steal his woman.” But his hand slipped around her thigh, dragging her leg back over his hips.
“I guess we’ll have to hide out together,” she said softly, tracing a finger down his chest. “Snuggle up in a cabin somewhere and ride things out.”
“Now that sounds like a plan.”
She frowned, thinking hard. “You’ll be in trouble with the prince–will it bother you?” He shook his head. “Hate court. Only go when I have to. ’Tis full of prancing sissies and bootlickers. I’d much rather stay home and tend to my castle and my men.”
That sounded good to her. “Tell me about your home.” She wanted to hear him talk more. She loved the sound of his voice.
“Well,” he said slowly, his fingers trailing up her thigh in a ticklish motion. “’Tis not much to look at.
Clan Kincaide has a small keep on the edge of the loch, and we have a great many sheep. But the land is beautiful and green in the summer, and cold and snowy in the winter.” She couldn’t wait to see it. Just as soon as she got free from this stupid tower. Hope sighed, tucking her head against him. “I’m not sure if I want you to keep talking or keep touching me.” His fingers slid over the curve of her buttock. “I can talk and touch ye at the same time, Hope, lass.” She gave a small moan of pleasure as he proved just that. “And that is why I like you so much.” His chuckle filled the small tower room.
Chapter Four
Callum woke sometime in the middle of the night and crept from her bed. Half asleep and tucked under the covers, Hope barely heard his clothing rustle and the buckles clang as he redressed himself. Then, he leaned in to kiss her forehead and whispered something to her, but she was too sleepy to notice.
When she woke up a short time later, the shutters were open and he was gone, the rope ladder still hanging from the window. She padded over to it, yawning, and dragged the ladder inside, careful to avoid letting her hair hit any of the streaming sunlight.
As she tugged in the ends of the ladder, she was surprised to see that a bunch of flowers had been twisted into the cords of the rope. Purple, white and yellow flowers dotted the cord, and she plucked one out of the binding and raised it to her nose, smiling.
Perhaps he’d return tonight. She missed him already.
With nothing else to do to pass the time, Hope decided to search the tower room once more. She paced through the circular tower room all day, tearing through her belongings. By the time the sun was close to setting, she’d come to a few conclusions.
One–that being stuck in a dark tower all day really, really sucked. It was driving her stir-crazy.
Worse, it reminded her of the times that she’d been trapped in hospitals for weeks on end. She wanted to get out in the open and live now that she was healthy. Being stuck in the tower?
Pure torture for her.
Two–that whatever had cursed her? Wasn’t in this tower. She’d looked high and low for anything that might have seemed out of the ordinary, but there was nothing.
And three–that if she wanted to find out what was going on, she was clearly going to have to leave the tower with Callum tonight. Perhaps they’d go to the village he’d mentioned and hunt down the witch.
Maybe she would know what Hope was looking for.
***
The day passed excruciatingly slow. There were no books in the tower, which left her with pretty much nothing to do. There was a basket of sewing, but she really wasn’t sure what to do with that.
And she wanted Callum back. Which was silly, really–they’d only known each other for a few days.
But she felt alive when she was around him. When he was here, the tower didn’t feel so suffocating.
Using a broom handle, she pushed open the shutters to the tower window and sighed at the sunlight streaming in. It was beautiful outside.
Breezy, gorgeous, with blue skies and puffs of white clouds. She could make out just a hint of greenery– a forest of some kind–below. Intense longing shot through her and Hope edged toward the window wistfully. Immediately, her scalp began to itch, her hair surging, and she stepped back again.
Damn it. This curse was annoying.
Frustrated, she flopped back down on her bed in the small corner of the room and stared out the open window, daydreaming about Callum.
His warm hands brushing over her naked skin. His smile as he undressed her. The look of his naked body as he loomed over hers…she sighed.
For someone who had only known the man a few days, she had it pretty bad for him. She closed her eyes and fluffed her sad little pillow, dragging it under her cheek.
Maybe she’d take a nap and by the time she woke up, he’d be back and they could discuss just how they were going to get rid of this stupid curse– “Rapunzel!”
She jerked awake, her eyes flicking open. The tower was dark, the skies outside orange with twilight.
; Had she heard her name?
“Rapunzel!”
Excited, she scrambled to the window and peered down, her hair beginning to grow at the touch of sunlight, flowing like water down the side of the tower wall.
She was disappointed to see that it was Prince Walter, though. And to make matters worse, he was alone.
“Hi,” she said weakly. “It’s you.”
“I’ve come to visit you, my precious pet,” he said. “Let down your hair so I may climb it and show you my love!”
Her hair surged forward, the weight of it pulling on her scalp something fierce. As she watched, it grew long enough for him to grasp it with his fingers, and he gave it a jerk. Hope winced at the sensation, grabbing a double-handful of the hair and resisting the urge to yank it out of his hands.
“Hang on,” she called. “I have to brace myself if you’re going to climb up.” She raced to the pole and wrapped her hair around twice, muttering to herself about impatient princes.
The rope ladder that Callum had twined with flowers lay neatly bundled at her feet and she kicked it aside in annoyance. Where was Callum tonight?
Why didn’t he want to come visit her? She gave the hair wrapped around the pole another firm tug, then called out, “Ready!”
There was a familiar tug on her hair, and she held the thick length braced against the pole. Another tug, and the hair on the windowsill seemed to almost spin, which was odd. Then it jerked again, and she could barely make out the sound of cursing.
And no one appeared on the ledge.
Hope tapped her foot impatiently, and then after another long moment, shouted, “Are you coming up?”
“I’m trying!” he shouted back up to her.
Try harder, she thought impatiently, then nixed it. If he did manage to come up, she’d have to entertain him. Or worse–he’d want to kiss her and make out now that they had privacy. She’d prefer he stayed on the ground.
He wasn’t a bad guy–he just wasn’t Callum.
There was another vicious yank of her hair, and then more cursing. At this rate, it was going to grow long enough to flood the countryside. She had to keep tightening it on the rod even as it continued to grow, the strands outside still warmed by the late afternoon sunlight.
After another impatient minute, she gave herself enough of a lead to walk over to the windowsill, her hair still wrapped around the pole just in case Walter decided to give it another shot. She peered over the edge. Sure enough, there was a flood of her thick brown locks on the ground, and standing in the center of it was Walter, his face red and sweaty as he tried–rather unsuccessfully–to brace himself and climb up to see her.
“Is everything all right?” she asked in her sweetest voice.
“I…seem to be having a bit of trouble,” he shouted between panting, and gave up, dropping his hands to his knees to catch his breath. “Do you have a rope or a ladder of some kind?” She nudged the rope ladder under the bed with her toe, hiding it. Not that he could see up here, but still. “No, I don’t. What should we do?”
He squinted up at her. “It seems that I cannot get up there to see you, my sweet dove. And I was so looking forward to showing you my love, my darling angel.” Ugh, the pet names. She ignored it, though she was secretly glad that he wasn’t going to be able to
‘show her his love’. The fact that he kept mentioning that exact phrase had her more than a little concerned. “What about your bodyguard? Where is he tonight?” Walter waved a hand irritably. “He had business to attend to. Departed court to go home.” Go home? Her response died in her throat.
What the hell. He’d abandoned her? Left her here to go home? Shock made her stomach painfully.
What would she do if Callum was gone? She choked for a moment, then managed a strangled, “I see.”
“I’ll return tomorrow if I can,” he said, squinting up at her. “And I’ll bring a ladder of some kind.” He studied the tower. “Perhaps a pulley.”
“Why do you think he went home?” she blurted, then wanted to slap herself for asking. She didn’t want Walter to be suspicious. Not that she wanted to marry the man, but he was the king’s son, and she couldn’t afford to piss him off. “I worry for you and your friends,” she added hastily.
“Just a dispute with a local, I imagine. Or sheep stealing. Something along those lines. It’s unimportant.” It’s important to me, she thought, but held her tongue this time. “That’s too bad. Is he coming back?” The prince shrugged, unconcerned. He mounted on his horse again and squinted up at her face. “It doesn’t matter, my love. You have me. Like I said, I’ll try and be back tomorrow.”
Hope thought quickly. She had a hunk of dry bread and some fruit, but that wouldn’t last her two days.
“But what about food–”
He galloped away before she could finish her protest. Oh, sure, she thought with a scowl. Dating a girl was fine and dandy as long as she was stuck in a tower and you only had to see her when you felt like it.
Some Prince Charming he was. Even though Callum had left her, she was rather glad she hadn’t put her money on Prince Walter.
Dragging her long hair across the tower floor, she grabbed the enormous scissors and began to saw at her hair, taking out her frustrations on it.
Stupid prince.
Stupid Callum.
He’d abandoned her. How could he do that to her? He knew she was trapped.
She thought about Callum’s abandonment of her and sighed unhappily. Had she just fallen for a pretty face? Was she truly that stupid and now that he’d had sex with her, he was off to save another damsel in distress? Was this the medieval equivalent of a one-night stand? A tower booty call?
If so, this sucked.
***
Despite being sparing with her food, she ate the last bite by the next evening. Prince Walter didn’t show up either, which didn’t surprise her.
Neither did Callum, which didn’t surprise her either, but did hurt her feelings. Still, things were getting dire for her. Not only was she bored out of her mind, but she was abandoned by the only two men in the world who seemed to know she was alive.
Nor had the fairy godmother stopped by. Hope felt well and truly neglected. She stared up at the ceiling of her small tower room. “Muffin, can you hear me? Are you coming back?” Silence.
“Ever?”
Nothing but more silence.
Hope sighed and hoped the fairy godmother could hear her anyhow. “I hope this is all part of your plan.
I’m pretty sure that the original Rapunzel didn’t starve to death.” The shutters flew open and a bird squawked. Hope sat up in bed, gasping at the bird that fluttered in. It looked like some sort of fat pigeon, with a small sack tied to one leg. The poor thing screeched and wobbled as it flew in, turning in wild circles, clearly off balance.
Muffin must have sent it. Hope quickly ran to the shutters and closed them before the bird could figure out how to escape, and spent the next fifteen minutes chasing the poor flapping thing. It couldn’t fly worth a damn with the bag weighing it down, but it was too frightened to sit still long enough for her to grab it. Eventually, she was able to throw a blanket over the frantic bird and hold it down long enough to grab the bag free.
Once that was done, she reopened the shutters and let it fly out.
Exhausted and sweating–and covered in bird feathers–Hope wiped at her forehead and went to see what the bird had brought. She tugged at the red ribbon holding the bag shut and an envelope fell out.
Curious, she picked it up and read the address.
Rapunzel (or a reasonable facsimile thereof)
1 Big Tower
Middle of Nowhere
Scotland
The return address was simply Muffin’s full name–Muffin Muffet. Stifling the giggle that rose from her throat, she tore open the envelope and pulled out the glittery pink stationary.
The note was brief.
Dear Hope,
Sorry, girlfriend, but I’m on deadline.
You’re on your own for now. And before you accuse me of not caring, I sent you a sandwich. Hope the bird didn’t crap on it. So you can keep sitting in your tower waiting for Prince Not-So-Charming to return, or you can go out and make your own way. But at least you’ll do it with a full belly. Never say I didn’t give you anything.
Love and kisses,
Muffin
She dug through the bag and sure enough, there was a deli sandwich, wrapped in brown wax paper.
Hope dug it out and took an enormous bite, then sighed with pleasure at the flavor.
“You are an awesome fairy godmother,” she said to the air around her. “No complaints here.” The bag rolled against her foot, and it felt like something hard was in there. Hope shook the bag and a glass bottle of root beer fell out and rolled on the floor. With a happy cry, she scooped it up and twisted the cap off, not caring that it fizzed everywhere.
Muffin was so thoughtful.
Hope happily ate her sandwich and drank her root beer and thought about the fairy godmother’s letter.
Why was she sitting here waiting for someone to come rescue her?
Sure, she was trapped here during the daylight hours, but her hair stopped growing at night. That gave her plenty of time to get out and explore the area.
And if Callum wasn’t coming back, she was going to have to do this on her own.
Which made her a little sad, but all the more determined. If he wasn’t going to help her, she’d save herself, damn it.
She glanced over at the rope ladder, wiping the crumbs from her lap, and then went to pick it up.
She examined the hooks on the end that latched under her windowsill, and experimentally opened the window again. The sun was below the horizon, the skies purple with night.
