Romantically Enchanted: A Twisted Fairytale Collection

by Madeline Martin

  As he followed his family into the house, Ione shuffled closer to him, gently squeezing his arm. Had she noticed the lack of affection? Were he to make up for his bumbling idiocy toward her from last night, and she still wanted to be with him after her three days were up, he would not fear to hold her tight in front of all of London.

  James' mother whirled on him as soon as they were seen into the green parlor with its luxurious settees and chairs. Wendelin asked a maid to bring in a tea service though it had to be nearing dinner time, and his father and brother took seats after the women with quiet expectancy as he stood with his arm behind his back, Ione at his side still, and faced them all.

  "Will you desist with this mystery and explain what is going on?" his mother stated. "And why are you behaving most strangely?"

  "Allow me to introduce you to Miss Ione Andersen." He had come up with the last name on the journey south. It was simple and inconspicuous, and if he'd been trying to give her an aristocratic background, it would be harder to pull off such a ruse. "From, uh, Denmark." With her fair coloring, that was easy enough to believe. She was a bit more tanned than she probably should be, but most people would be too polite to ask about that. She wasn't the characteristic English rose, but her otherworldly beauty would turn heads regardless. There was no way around that. And he had traveled to Denmark a few times and knew some of the language, so he could help her come up with a story people might actually believe.

  Ione turned to his family and smiled, removing her hand from the crook of his arm and setting space between them as was proper. Emily was a good teacher. Bowing her head ever slightly, she said, "I'm pleased to meet you," in flawless Dutch. He blinked. Perhaps she could make up her own history. Then, in English, she said, "Captain Harlow has been most kind to offer protection in this difficult time."

  As his family members' eyes widened, he felt his own do the same. They hadn't had time to go over the story, and he'd planned on revealing Lord Underwood's identity. Had she told him to hold that knowledge back in order to take control the narrative? James never knew what to expect from her, nor did he know how he felt about that.

  "What difficult time is that?" his father leaned forward. Martin Harlow, Viscount Summerfield's hair had grayed with age, but his blue eyes held the light of many years of life within them. They had gone a stormy shade, as they often did when he worried.

  James opened his mouth to elaborate, but Ione beat him to the punch. "My mother and I were traveling to London, she was ill, you see, and dearly wanted to see the city." With perfect timing, her eyes started to well with tears and she choked out, "She didn't make it. I had to see her buried in a town half a day's ride from Summerfield. I can't remember what it was called." She broke down in a believable set of sobs, and James could do no more than stare, baffled, from her to his father, then to his brother, and back again.

  Whatever was he to do? He couldn't wrap his arms around her without easing his mother into the news about his hand. Wouldn't his consoling her make his parents more suspicious than they already were when he'd shown up with a woman?

  Wendelin rushed forward and threw her arms around Ione, leading her to the settee she'd vacated. Her light brown hair was pinned up with curls loose around her face. "I'm sorry about your mother. That must have been so awful." His sister had the softest heart he'd ever known. Another reason he would protect her from the likes of Underwood if it killed him.

  His mother covered her mouth with a hand, brow furrowed in sympathy. Even his father and brother seemed to be eating up the story Ione wove. He assumed he was now allowed to take over the fantastical narrative and cleared his throat, gaining their attention. "Miss Ione decided to travel to London to honor her mother's dying wish and see the city, when she was set upon by highwaymen outside Summerfield. As luck would have it, I happened on them the moment the ruffians made their move as I returned home from town." He was torn between curiosity at Ione's skill with weaving such a tale while he felt terribly guilty for having to mislead his family. Did she feel the same, or was it an amusement for her?

  Ione sniffled and sat up, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her knuckles. Jonathan handed her a handkerchief, leaning in much too close for James' liking and he glared at his older brother. After thanking Jonathan and tidying up, she held the material in her hands and added, "Captain Harlow saved my life…and my virtue." The look in her eyes as she met his gaze shimmered with humor and something else. Disdain for having to say he'd saved her? He'd correct that.

  "Aye, but then Miss Ione saved mine." Even she looked surprised by this statement. She hadn't expected him to give her any credit, and that wounded him. Did she think him so arrogant to want to be the center of attention? He'd rather be closed up in a room with her than facing his family. "I fought the men off before any damage could be done, but the one in charge had a sharp blade and, well, there's no way I can hide this much longer…" He brought his left arm around and displayed the hook. "I lost my hand."

  In the dead silence that followed, Jonathan started to laugh. When he realized no one else had joined in, he stopped. "Wait, you're serious? I thought it was a jest." Leaping to his feet, he came forward and took hold of James’ arm below the hook and tried to tug it off with his other hand. Like he couldn't see his arm was too short to be hidden under the piece of leather covering the stump where the metal was seared to the skin. "It's not coming off."

  "Of course not. It's attached." As he met his mother's gaze, her eyes rolled up and she fainted into his father's arms.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE EVENING HAD GONE RELATIVELY WELL despite the way it had started. Ione strolled around Wendelin's bedroom as the girl combed through a number of gowns. The walls of the room were lavender, and the bedding and curtains the color of cream. Everything was dainty and elegant. Her own people rarely bothered with material possessions they didn't need since items tended to drift away or be carted off. Octopuses and crabs particularly enjoyed moving objects around in jest. Ione wasn't sure if she envied humans or felt sorry for them to take such pride in their belongings and how their homes were decorated. She found it interesting though, for sure.

  Wendelin talked non-stop with barely a breath between, but Ione only caught bits and pieces. Dinner had been a tense affair, but after recovering from the shock of James' missing hand, the scrutiny toward her had been nearly non-existent. James had gone to the docks directly after dinner, and Wendelin had taken Ione upstairs to help her find a few gowns to wear until she had new ones of her own since, according to James' additions to her story, the highwaymen had gotten away in her hired carriage, the driver himself being one of them, and she had lost all her belongings in the process. She hated having to lie, but to protect the others like her, it was required.

  "I knew I recognized that gown when I saw it," Wendelin said. "It just didn't occur to me it was mine. I haven't seen it in ages, and it's a tad out of fashion. Ah, this one!" She pulled out a beautiful golden gown, and beadwork sparkled in the light like Ione's scales tended to do in the sun. "This would be perfect for the ball tomorrow. It would bring out the unique coloring of your eyes."

  Ione smiled, hoping not to hurt the girl's feelings. "Do you have something not gold? Any other color will suffice. I tend to be dressed in that shade quite often and it grows tiresome." And what, exactly, was a ball? Emily had explained a lot, and she was adapting as quickly as she expected, but a few words and phrases took her a bit off guard until she had the proper context for them.

  Wendelin nodded and hung the dress up again. "I know exactly what you mean. I have a great many blue dresses. I try to ask for other colors if I can, but Mama insists gowns that bring out a lady's eyes help bring out the gentlemen at the balls. It's poppycock if you ask me. A gown covers everything, but is also designed to accentuate one's curves." She took a deep breath and continued, "Everyone's too polite to say so, but growing up with three older brothers tends to involve hearing crude comments not meant for a lady's ears." Wendelin brushed
a stray tendril of her light brown hair out of her eyes and stared at Ione as though expecting her to agree.

  "Erm… that's probably true. Do you enjoy attending balls?" She had determined they were a sort of social event or gathering and wanted to confirm her suspicion. She had already taken in so much information. And rules. So many rules!

  Wendelin nodded. "The dancing is great fun. However, they can become burdensome if you have no one you want to talk to or if your dance card is not filling up." She turned back around, not stopping to take a breath between sentences. "The gown James found for you is a little loose, but looks better on you than me. We'll have the maid pull it in and you can keep it. Since it's out of style though, it would benefit you better if you return to the country. In town, you'll want to stay in fashion. I have other dresses you can keep as well, if you'd like. I'm sure James will buy you a ton of dresses though after you two are married."

  "Pardon?" She blinked rapidly. Ione had intended to mate with James, but after last night, she figured he'd changed his mind. She had started to wonder if she could manage without marriage since he was so repulsed by her wanting to be with him physically. Why else would he have run from the bed and plunged into frigid water to escape her? When she was already in his bed? Not to mention, he hadn't tried to talk to her in the carriage at all, barely speaking to her when they stopped at an inn to change the horses and secure a midday meal. He'd chosen to ride a horse by himself and glare angrily at her when she was able to catch a glimpse of him.

  Mortals were confusing.

  "I apologize." Wendelin bit her lower lip and cowered shyly for a moment. "I assumed that, despite everything, you two were left in a compromising position. He shows up here with a surprise woman who isn't wearing gloves or a bonnet, and Emily is a dear, but she's far too busy to keep an eye on you at all times. You had to have been alone with my brother more than when he rescued you. I'm sure we all assumed James would do the proper thing. He's a gentleman."

  Gloves? Bonnet? Ione brought her hands up to her hair, which Emily had pinned up in the carriage. How many layers did they expect females to wear? The few women she'd seen at the inn were indeed wearing those items, but she assumed it had been their choice to, not a requirement.

  "James saved me before anything could happen. He was bleeding out after, and hardly in a state to compromise me." So the series of events were slightly different when it came to the saving, but she respected his method of acknowledging her role as savior even if they couldn't tell the absolute truth about the situation. He could have played hero without giving her that much credit. "I was at Summerfield for one night. He didn't ride with us in the carriage either."

  James' sister tapped her chin and considered. "Still, the highwaymen got away, and there's no telling who they are and where they live. Some people enjoy watching others suffer. Though James did everything in his power to protect your virtue, there is someone out there who could voice a different opinion, and believe me, I realize how ridiculous it sounds. My father takes pleasure into issuing hypothetical situations to prevent me from being 'sneaky.'"

  "How dreadful." And it was. How could a young woman live with so many restrictions?

  "It's rather amusing though, don't you agree?" Grinning warmly, Wendelin added, "James will ask for your hand. You watch."

  "James—Captain Harlow—doesn't want to marry me, and shouldn't be forced into it." How different were the rules of his kind from those of her own? She was told she could mate with human males, but had to kill them after, while here she'd been alone with a man, and therefore, due to no witnesses, it was assumed they had no control over their lust? Perhaps if he hadn't ended their encounter in his bedroom she'd feel differently. "I will not be tied to another person out of obligation. I can return home and spare him such disgrace."

  Or live elsewhere. She didn't like the idea of James asking for her hand because he had to. She wanted him to want to. She could have mated with one of the tritons if she wished to play by the rules. She desired James, and if he didn't feel the same, they would make each other miserable. Sure, he had mentioned that he'd have to marry her when they first discussed how he'd court her, but after last night… duty wasn't good enough. Was passion?

  What do I want from him? From this whole charade?

  "Oh, my brother is enamored with you." Wendelin pulled out a striking red gown and held it up. "Let's try this one." When Ione only stared at her, she added, "I've never seen my brother look at any female with real interest before. He went out and became a captain not because he wanted to fight in the navy, but because he was bored and felt he lacked adventure."

  Ione knew a little of how that felt. Was that why she'd been drawn to James in time to save him and concoct her half-thought out plan? Kindred spirits?

  "Highwaymen, rescuing damsels… I think he found his adventure. A shame about his hand though." Wendelin turned away, but not fast enough to hide the emotion crossing her face. James' nonchalance about his missing hand had made the situation more troubling to his family. They couldn't understand why he wasn't more upset and how he didn't seem to be in any pain. Perhaps healing him completely had been an oversight on Poseidon's part.

  Ione pushed that thought aside. She'd rather him seem odd than suffer.

  With Wendelin's help, she was able to try on the gown. It had a great many buttons in the back that she'd needed assistance to fasten. Now, she stared at herself in the mirror, swathed in the vivid scarlet. The gold tones in her hair and skin complimented the sultry color the way gold in a crown embraced rubies and garnets.

  "Stay there," Wendelin stated, heading toward the door. "I'm going to grab the maid that mends our clothing to come help make this dress perfect for you. I think it's the one. James will lose his breath when he sees you in it." And with that, she vanished into the hall.

  She sighed. At the moment, all she wanted was a good night's sleep and to taste James' kiss. Perhaps not in that order. Ione hoped tomorrow would prove better, as her first day of three had been tiresome, the carriage ride uncomfortable, and with the lack of James' companionship…a bit of a letdown. Perhaps things would work out well in the end. The villains would be punished, and she'd have some kind of happy resolution.

  JAMES RETURNED to the house late. Everyone would have already gone to bed. He'd had to go through explaining his hook to the men at the shipping office and on the docks as he checked on his ship. The convoluted, false story felt sour on his tongue when he knew the identity of the culprit, but he had to trust Ione. Hell, he'd been rescued by a sea nymph, so one more leap of faith in her might prove beneficial. He had doubts, which came from the side of him used to mundane normalcy, but he was the one standing there with a hook for a hand.

  Hours had passed before he'd known it, and now sleep beckoned. He'd wanted to see Ione before she went to bed, but things had not turned out the way he wished. The first day of her three days had been squandered on travel and family drama.

  He'd make it up to her tomorrow. Before he left, he'd overheard his sister and mother talking about a ball for the following evening, but hadn't been concerned enough to ask about it then. Ione might want to go, but he didn't know where it would be held. That information could wait until morning too.

  As he crept through the halls toward his room with a single candle taper to illuminate his way, relief that his missive had reached the docks in the early hours of the morning once again settled over him. He hadn't named Underwood in the letter, and to keep with his story to his parents he'd described a few of the other boys to the dock workers and men in the shipping office. A consolation he allowed himself for extra precaution.

  Somewhere down the hall, a door eased open with a small squeak. "James?" Ione's whisper brought a smile to his face, and his heart beat a little faster.

  Alone at last. He'd been needing to speak to her all day, but failed at every chance. Though she could choose to remain human after her first three days, how was he to win her to his side if he couldn't spend ti
me with her? He'd already messed up their first night alone, and now there were too many people around.

  "You should be asleep, love. I hear we're attending a ball tomorrow. You'll need your rest."

  The woman was determined to tempt him, however, and she stepped out into the hall in nothing but her nightdress. No wrapper once again. He tamped down a groan. "Ione, this is inappropriate."

  "To Hades with appropriate." She scrunched up her nose. It was rather adorable. "Hell, I mean. That will take getting used to."

  Shaking his head, he reached out from where he stood and opened his bedroom door. Knowing he would be following his appropriateness right to Hades, he stepped back and gestured her in. When she smiled and hurried past him into the room, he momentarily debated running back out the house, but that would solve nothing. Sure, her virtue would remain intact, but she would continue to believe he didn't want her in his life—or in his bed. He felt compelled to impress her, though. What if she had a fantastical notion of what things would be like and he let her down because he was only a mortal man? He wasn't a god or a hero of legend. Just a man.

  He shut the door behind him and turned the lock for good measure. Ione didn't say anything while he went about starting a fire. It would give them light and remove any bite out of the air though the weather remained pleasant. When he completed his task, he turned to look at her. She lounged on his bed, clothed in that thin material that barely concealed her from his gaze. His throat went tight, so he cleared it. Every ounce of him wanted to throw out all his manners and ravish her right there. "We need to talk. About last night."