Romantically Enchanted: A Twisted Fairytale Collection

by Madeline Martin

  His breathing quickened. “They are merely driven by instinct.”

  “Perhaps, and I understand that all beasts must survive as they choose, but they frighten me and have since childhood.”

  Silence brewed between them. “I, too, once feared wolves.”

  “How did you overcome it?”

  A bitter laugh escaped him. “I had no choice.”

  “How interesting, for I was never given that chance.” She shrugged. “Mine is a simple life, I suppose.”

  “It sounds so.” Did she realize how lucky she was, to do what she pleased and when? Except for her fear of wolves, he envied her. “Do you ever wish for more? Want for the attentions of a man who might elevate your position in life?”

  “What would I do with it? The trappings of wealth don’t interest me. Neither does a man’s title. Be he a king or a pauper, what a man does—his actions—speak more than his words or how much coin he has in his coffers or the amount of lands he owns.”

  “Are you…” He tugged at his suddenly too tight collar. “What sort of man do you wish for yourself?”

  Averell cocked her head to the side. “One who is kind and caring. One who thinks of others before himself. One who can make me laugh. One who sets my blood on fire with his touch.” When she focused her gaze fully on him, his stomach muscles clenched. What would she think of him if she knew him better? “I hope when I find such a man, he will be honorable as well.”

  Honorable wasn’t exactly included in the thoughts of what he wanted to do to her. Damn his wolf. “I wish you good fortune in your search.”

  “Thank you. I’m not certain he exists, but if he does, I aim to find him. Perhaps he will look past my lack of experience or social training and find me enough, to know that what I can give is what he needs, to see my potential.” She sipped her tea. “At times I wonder what else the world has to offer and what I have to offer it.”

  “I think about that of myself as well.” Quinn put his mug on the low table in front of him. The creature before him was enchanting and so innocent he wished to protect her from men—like him. He also wished to teach her, show her so many things… “I spend much of my time in the service of others, helping, teaching, imparting hope.”

  “Doing what, exactly?”

  “Let’s just say I fill my days with philanthropic subjects. I was once in military service, rewarded for bravery in combat, but that wasn’t the life for me. I can do much better on my own than taking orders.” He didn’t wish to reveal his title or true identity and put shadows of doubt into her eyes. On a whim, he stood, crossed the slight space that separated them, and then he settled onto the sofa next to her. “For all of our discussion, you have not mentioned the most important thing in life.”

  “Such as?”

  Gently, he appropriated her mug and laid it next to his. “Love. Be certain the man you select will be able to wrap you in that feeling and keep you safe.” He dropped his voice and dared to trail his fingers along the side of her face. Her skin was as soft as satin. Her pulse raced beneath his fingertips. “I hope such a man will fill you with desire enough to last past infatuation.”

  She sucked in a breath. “How will I know the difference?”

  “Trust your instincts.” He cupped her cheek, being sure their gazes locked, and brushed the pad of this thumb along her lush lower lip. “Deep in your heart—your soul—you’ll know and it will feel as if it was always meant to happen.” Then he lightly touched his lips to hers in a barely there kiss. A jolt of something raced down his spine to lodge into his groin. When he pulled away, there was surprise and wonder in her eyes, the same feeling that lingered in his chest.

  “How do you know such things?” She pressed her fingertips to her mouth.

  “I have lived longer than you.” Quinn winked. “Five years to be exact, and though I am thoroughly versed in what society offers, my wish is to find a woman who will overlook my flaws, who will accept me as I am—as I have no choice to be.” He quickly stood before the invisible thread between them could tug him further into her web or he revealed all his secrets. “I must go.”

  “Stay, at least for a little while.” Averell rose. “I… I find your company pleasing.” A blush rose into her cheeks. “The sound of your voice is soothing.”

  Get out, Quinn. You are not in the market for an innocent miss. “Thank you. You are charming as well.” He rushed across the room and retrieved his discarded garments. “Good night, sweet Averell. Dream of your gentleman. Perhaps it will hasten his steps.”

  He didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he was well away from the enchanted tree. That damned invisible connection might well kill him.

  Bloody magic.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE NEXT EVENING, when the twilit shadows changed the skies to shades of purple, pink and gold, Averell’s father returned to the enchanted tree cottage.

  “Papa!” She glanced up from the rabbit stew she stirred at the hearth and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to be home.” He dropped his cloak, and then collapsed into a battered leather winged-back chair near her position.

  “Did you have good fortune with your wares?” Her father always looked forward to his days in the village. He had many contacts that he saw once a month. It was good for him to socialize.

  “Oh yes. Your handiwork went especially fast.” A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Perhaps I should have let you apprentice under a seamstress.”

  She laughed. “I enjoy needlework, but I do not wish to do it for a lifetime.”

  “Ah, you think yourself a grand lady,” he joked and this time his smile reached his blue eyes—the same eyes that she had. “You wish to spend your days like the idle, with nothing else to do but order servants about.”

  “Of course not.” It was the same response she always gave. “What purpose do the idle serve? They might have long lives, but they haven’t truly lived them, and I do not wish to spend my years in a gilded cage.” Though a tiny part of her dreamed of living that sort of luxury, if only for a day. What would rich fabrics feel like against her skin, or perfumes smell like in the air, or sumptuous foods taste like on her palate?

  “Indeed.” Her father nodded. He sank more deeply into the chair. “You are wise, even though I’ve kept you here, away from the world, away from places where you could make your own mistakes and learn from them, away from opportunities for you to triumph and revel.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I wonder now if I was right to do that. You deserve more than what this life has given you. Have I cheated you somehow?”

  Her heartbeat accelerated. It had been a long time since her father had lapsed into melancholy. “You had your reasons.” Didn’t he? Perhaps now was a good time to question him, to encourage him to share about her past. “Speaking of that, why did you choose to live here? We could have had a nice life in the village, perhaps in rooms overlooking the main street.”

  Silence reigned for some time while she set a pot of strong tea to brew. By the time Averell laid down the tray on the small round table at his elbow, her father spoke once more.

  “When I was a man about your age, I was reckless, arrogant, prideful. I thought the world owed me everything.” He accepted a cup of tea with a nod. “I was the best huntsman this kingdom had ever seen. I’d won awards. Gathered accolades as if they were laurels. It granted me the attention of many female admirers, but only one of them caught my eye.”

  “My mother.” Spellbound by the tale, Averell sank onto the stone lip of the hearth. Never had he talked of the past and she didn’t want to break the momentum.

  “Yes.” Her father’s eyes went distant as he lost himself in the memories. “She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. Back then I would accept no less. She was powerful even then, but I had no idea of her true identity at that time.” He sipped his tea. “Our affair was all-consuming, but there could never be a future for us.”

  “Why?” How sad for her father.

>   “I was far below her in station. She was royalty. I discovered that well into our relationship, and it was one reason I had to beg off.”

  Royalty? She frowned. “But you loved her, correct? Why should that matter?” Love was love and it didn’t hold to societal boundaries.

  “It shouldn’t, but our situation was different.” His mouth formed a thin line. “I did love her, after a fashion, I suppose. She is a difficult woman to love, and she coveted power and magic more than romance. When I proposed, she laughed in my face, said she’d never lower herself to wed a peasant. She aspired to more. Which is true. You have only to look at her life now.”

  Averell gasped. “She still lives?” All these years she’d assumed her mother was dead, for her father never spoke of her. How was this possible?

  “Oh, she lives, and because of that I needed to hide you away. I feared what would happen if she were to want you back.” He took another long draught of his tea before finding her gaze with his. “Eventually, I grew weary of her quest for power, of her using me as a play thing, of her ridiculous mission to look youthful at all costs—and her continued refusal of my wish to marry. I left the castle—the home of Queen Grimhilde.” When Averell clamped a hand to her mouth, he nodded. “Yes, your mother is the queen of these lands.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say.” She gawked at her parent. He’d kept such a large secret from her for so long. What did he think she’d do with that information? “How did I come to be with you?”

  “I found you on my doorstep one day, in a basket with a note attached explaining who you were.” He sighed and finished his tea. “Grimhilde said she had no use for an infant, especially one who might rival her beauty one day.” Her father shook his head. “Of course I took you in; you were my daughter of my own flesh and blood. My whole life changed that day, and I couldn’t have been happier. I finally had purpose.” His smile chased some of the pain from his eyes. “I vowed I wouldn’t let her influence your life. Being royal changes a person, twists them into something impure, something horrible, something corrupt.”

  “But they needn’t be that way. There are exceptions.” Every person had a choice they couldn’t blame on upbringing or lifestyle.

  “This is true, and I hope someday to see evidence of that.”

  “So we came here.” Her mind reeled over the implications of her heritage. A bastard child whose mother ruled the very lands where they lived.

  What would I do if I were to ever meet my mother?

  “Yes. I had once saved the life of an enchantress in my youth, so I called upon her. She created this tree cottage with the guarantee that no one—not even the queen—could find you here.” He accepted a refill of his cup from her. “I didn’t want the queen’s life for you, Averell. You would change from the woman you are. Your mother would make you into her image and…” A shudder shook his shoulders. “Now that I know what I do of her, she would have undoubtedly killed you.”

  “Why?” Why would a woman she’d never met wish to end her life? It made no sense. She ladled stew into a bowl and then handed it to her father. “Did something happen while you were in the village yesterday?”

  “Yes.” He pushed the root vegetables around his bowl with his spoon. “While selling my wares, Queen Grimhilde appeared out of thin air.” Her father snapped his fingers. “When I knew her, her magic was fledgling. It appears she’s studied that craft over the years, or else she has a powerful sorcerer in her employ.”

  “Is that what worries you?” She’d never seen his eyes so shadowed with fear or doubt as they were now. “Magic? We all have some in varying degrees.” She certainly did, for she felt it tingling deep inside every so often, but she’d had no idea what to do with it or how to draw it out. Now she knew why she had it. She was her mother’s daughter. Her stomach muscles tightened. Perhaps this was a turning point in her life. Would she call forth that magic and learn how to use it?

  “Not at the moment. Magic is magic, for good or for ill. However, her task for me is what worries me.” He took a few bites of the stew before continuing. “I don’t think I can carry out her edict, but if I do not…” He raised his gaze and met hers. “…she will kill me. She said as much in the village, said I owed her for letting me raise up her child.” His voice broke. “I refuse to leave you alone and at her mercy.”

  Sour bile hit the back of Averell’s throat. She swallowed a few times. “I can handle myself, Papa. I am quite skilled with my arrows… and with hiding.” But the hand holding her spoon shook. Was her mother the evil he spoke often about? “Perhaps you should tell me what the task is that she gave you.”

  “It’s a horrid concept, and the only reason she ordered me to do this is due to my being her best huntsman.” He jabbed his spoon into his stew with such force a piece of carrot flew out of the bowl and landed on the floor at his feet. “The queen wishes for me to kill a young girl. Snow White is her name, all because this girl is allegedly more beautiful than the queen herself.” He shook his head. “It is a ridiculous order. The chit has done nothing wrong except grow into beauty. That is not a crime. I cannot take an innocent’s life.”

  The sick feeling circled through her stomach. This story was impossible, unfathomable even. “The queen—my mother—asked you to kill someone? A human.”

  “Yes, and she desires proof. I’m to remove the girl’s heart and present it at the queen’s court post haste.” He jerked a thumb toward a rucksack he’d dropped on the dining table. “She even gave me a bejeweled box to put the heart into.” Her father rested his bowl of mostly untouched stew on the tea tray and then he leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees and buried his fingers into his hair. “I am not a murderer, Averell. I will not start now just because she has threatened my life.”

  “I know you’re not, Papa.” After depositing her bowl on the hearth’s lip, she settled on her knees at his feet. He wasn’t a bad person. He was merely in the service of one—the same woman who’d given her life. “Why does she wish to kill you if you do not do this thing for her?”

  “Why not?” He shrugged and snorted as he reached for her hands. “She is the queen and this is her whim. I suppose it has always bothered her that I called off our relationship instead of her. It is a matter of pride, after all. Perhaps she doesn’t wish to be reminded.”

  “She sounds like a cold-hearted woman. You were right to shield me from her.” I cannot believe this woman is my mother. I refuse to be anything like her. “I have an idea.” She squeezed his fingers. “Replace the human heart for that of a stag. The queen will never know the difference, for it is doubtful she has ever beheld an organ of any kind let alone a heart. That way everyone will be appeased. The queen will assume the girl is dead and you will not need to murder her. My mother will leave you in peace.”

  Until the next time she wished to torture him.

  “That might indeed work.” His expression brightened and some of the shadows in his fled. “How fortunate I am that you are smart as well as good despite your mother.” He freed one of his hands and patted the top of her head. “I shall take your suggestion and be glad of it.”

  “Good.” Averell smiled. She stood and moved to the sofa where she’d sat with Quinn the night before. Her lips tingled from that all-too-brief kiss he’d given her. How was it that thoughts of him chased away the stress that the news of her mother caused? “When will you deliver the heart?”

  “I would imagine soon. If I do not, she will seek me out. I shall go out before dawn to track a stag.”

  “There was a hunting party from a neighboring kingdom on these lands yesterday searching for the same. Hopefully, they haven’t frightened away the animals you seek.” She brushed the tip of her forefinger along her bottom lip and wished Quinn was here with her. Would he get on well with her father? Above all, he would know what to do and have additional insight into the bizarre tale she still couldn’t wrap her head around.

  “There is nothing to worry over, my girl. I know where t
he deer hide; visiting hunters do not.” He reclaimed his stew bowl and dug in it with gusto. After several moments of quiet eating, he said, “You look different tonight. More starry eyed, perhaps. What has occurred while I’ve been away? Tell me how you’ve kept yourself.”

  Heat infused her cheeks. “Perhaps I’m happy that you are home.”

  “Ha!” He wagged a forefinger. “You never could lie, and that’s a good trait to have. Truthfulness means you can be trusted.” He grinned. “Tell me. Never before have you been so glowing upon my return.”

  Despite her wont to keep Quinn to herself and revel over him like the most delicious secret, the words fairly burst from her throat so happy was she to share. “By chance, I met a woodsman yesterday while I was out exploring. I assume he’s either that or a huntsman like you; he’s rugged enough.” His visage danced in her mind’s eye: broad shoulders, muscled chest, red hair and shaggy whiskers. And his thrilling voice… “As I said before, he and his party were after a white stag, but I don’t know if they were successful.”

  “You met a man?” Again, her father laid down his stew bowl. His expression reflected surprise and skepticism.

  “Yes.” She nodded in the event he needed a visual confirmation. “Late in the morning. I tracked him and his party, but he somehow knew I was there. He saw right into my hiding place as if his skill was equal or greater to mine. He was quite comfortable in the forest.” With fine-tuned hearing. When her father frowned, she rushed onward. “Then I met him again last night after midnight when I went to bring in some fire wood from the back. I couldn’t sleep. He, uh, he was standing nearly at the door to our tree.” Now that she said it aloud, it sounded rather odd. How had he found her even in the enchanted cottage?

  “Did he force his way in?” Her father straightened his spine. He curled one hand into a fist as he glanced about the immediate area.

  “No!” Averell stood, took a step toward him, but then thought the better of it. “I demanded his reason for being there. He said he’d gotten separated from his hunting party, and since I felt comfortable with him earlier in the day, I…” She forced down a swallow. “I invited him inside for some chamomile tea.”