Romantically Enchanted: A Twisted Fairytale Collection

by Madeline Martin

  His eyes widened. “A man was in our cottage? Your only source of protection?” He shot to his feet. “What is his name? Who are his people? Where does he hail from?”

  “Calm yourself, Papa. He meant no harm, and was everything polite and proper to me.” Another round of heat blazed in her cheeks. She would not tell him of the kiss or how he made her feel. “His name is Quinn. And I do not need the tree’s protection, not from him.”

  “What is his surname?” Her father crossed his brawny arms over his chest.

  “I don’t know. In my haste and during our ensuing conversations, I didn’t think to ask.” When he didn’t seem convinced, she sighed. “Oh, Papa, perhaps a name and all that other information doesn’t matter. He makes me feel alive with a mere touch.” A tiny gasp followed. Merciful heavens, had she really admitted that to him? “We shared a connection I’ve never known with any other.”

  Remarkably, her father softened. Great booming laughter came from him and he relaxed his posture. “After all this time, now you meet a man. By chance.” He chuckled again. “Perhaps I wasn’t wrong in bringing you here after all. If you weren’t here, neither would he be.”

  Averell smiled. “He is quick of wit and pleasing in form. He doesn’t put much stock in people who do not work for the good of all.”

  “He sounds like fine folk.”

  “Meeting him was an interesting interlude. Perhaps if it’s fated, we shall see each other again.” Her smile faded. Was that true? “What if we are not fated, but our paths cross anyway?”

  “Ah, my girl, everything moves by fate. Trust your instincts.”

  That was the same advice that Quinn had given her but on a different topic. “You are not angry? You try so hard to keep me safe, work to keep me sheltered from everyone…”

  “No, I am… cautious.” Fondness filled his eyes. “However, I shall again warn you about the danger of men. They are sometimes not what they seem and will break your heart as if it were made of glass without caring for you.” Worry lined his expression. “Men seldom go seeking love. Forgive my bluntness, but they are only looking for a willing woman where they can bury their length. Do not mistake lust for love. I did that once, now I am paying the price.”

  Her chest tightened. Was that what Quinn wanted from her? She remembered the fleeting caress of his fingers along her cheek, the easy way they’d bantered, and she shook her head. “Dearest Papa, how you worry so.” She closed the distance. When he engulfed her in one of his special hugs that made her think of a big bear, she giggled. “Not this man. His eyes are kind.” And wild. Primal even. They called to something deep inside her that longed to be free. “He is true. I believe he is what he says. He is not like the queen. He isn’t evil.”

  “And if he breaks your trust?” Her father held her away from him. “Men are the original liars.”

  She shrugged. “If he hurts me or has lied to me merely to rut between my legs, I will put an arrow between his… and then through his heart.”

  “I believe you.” He retrieved his stew bowl. “But remember, each kill changes a person; taking a human life isn’t the same as putting down a deer. We hunt animals for food and their pelts. Killing a man gains nothing, but takes a piece of your soul. Do such a thing in the event you have no other options or if your life is threatened.” He frowned. “As I grow older, I am convinced violence isn’t the answer.”

  “I feel the same as you, Papa.” As he moved to refill his bowl, she sighed. “Putting all of that aside, do I have your blessing to continue to talk with this man should I experience such fortune as to see him again?”

  His shoulders shook with mirth, and when he faced her, his expression was wreathed in a smile. “Yes, you have my blessing, but I hope you find love. When it’s right, it’s wonderful. It is another form of magic.”

  That sounded marvelous. What would life be if linked with Quinn’s? Averell sank on the sofa with a grin. “Perhaps he can go into business with you, Papa. From his talk, he seemed knowledgeable about the game in the area.”

  “Only time will tell, my girl.” But his eyes had regained the shadows of worry. “Promise me you will be careful. You are all that I have.”

  “I will.” She nodded and her mind was already revisiting her interactions with Quinn. “I will.” And perhaps if fate didn’t intervene, she would use her tracking skills and find him herself.

  CHAPTER 4

  QUINN HID a yawn with his hand for the fifth time that evening. How much longer was he required to sit through boring conversation that centered around the upcoming ball?

  Leave here. Want to run.

  He glanced toward the floor to ceiling windows in the drawing room where the family and a few advisors had gathered. The purpled shadows of twilight colored the sky. A muscle twitched in his thigh. As much as he agreed with his wolf half, he couldn’t leave, for he wanted to speak to his brother alone.

  “We have sent invitations to at least forty women of eligible marrying age throughout the kingdom,” his father, the king, said as he looked at Quinn’s brother. “Surely, by the night’s end you will have made a decision.”

  Quinn snorted. “So, based on your highly flawed logic, Henry is, in the course of a few hours, to choose a woman he knows nothing about and will have perhaps danced with twice in the evening to be his bride? Do you not see the folly of such a plan?”

  All focus in the room swiveled his way and he cringed for drawing their attention. His father tugged on a lock of gray hair—hair that had once been as gloriously red as his own—and glanced at his friend—or rather his conspirator-in-arms—the Grand Duke Albert and rolled his eyes. “This coming from my second son, who is also unwed and has no plans to be so. What did I ever do to have such stubborn children?”

  A round of sycophantic laughter circled through the room.

  Quinn shot off the low settee of blue crushed velvet. Banked energy tightened his limbs and bunched his muscles. He wanted to run and escape this madness, to howl and dig his nails into the earth to quiet the frustration, but the opportunity for a fight stayed his flight. “I choose to remain unattached, Father, for I don’t wish to align myself with the wrong woman for a lifetime. Henry, of course, desires to wed and set up his nursery. And that is all to the good. He should usher in a change, for you won’t be here much longer.” He leveled a look at his father, who hastily averted his gaze. “However, don’t you think you should allow him more than mere hours to decide something that will change his life forever? The woman he weds will be queen one day. Consider that.”

  “The boy has a point, my king,” Grand Duke Albert conceded with a clearing of his throat. He then stroked his salt and pepper mustache and regarded Quinn. “Perhaps a house party then?”

  Oh dear Lord, spare me from the mutterings of fools. He clasped his hands behind his back and ambled toward the windows. “To what end? Feed and entertain so many women—and their chaperones—for days on end? Listen to idle prattle that is designed to ensnare Henry? We’ll all go mad.” And having one of them perhaps witness us shifting into a wolf?

  The room erupted into varying views and arguments until his brother stood.

  “Quinn has the right of it.” Alto August Henry Ferdinand Lansdowne, heir apparent to the kingdom of Annanvale—Henry to those who knew him best—rose slowly to his feet. Both within the court and in the kingdom, he was irreverently referred to as Prince Charming, for his gilded tongue, his impeccable manners, and his impending inheritance. “While I feel the ball is a good idea and will allow me to meet more women than are currently within my social circle, I’m not quite certain I will be able to select one woman by the event’s end.” His voice carried the ring of one who had been bred to rule. “Also, there is the delicate matter of finding a woman to trust with my beastly nature.”

  “Indeed.” There was always that to consider. Curse or no curse, binding oneself to another couldn’t be taken lightly. Quinn monitored the room through the window’s reflection. All the old men who w
ished to govern the kingdom from their outdated points of view, who had not a notion of what the people wanted or even needed. He hoped that would change once his brother took the throne. “To further the point, are you so desperate to see Henry wed, Father, that you will consider a union between him and a potential commoner?” Such things didn’t matter to him, but to his father, they did, and any time Quinn could provoke his sire, he did.

  You are asking for trouble.

  He smiled at his image in the window. Perhaps I am. But then, mayhap they will ask me to excuse myself. Which is my end goal.

  True to form, his father sputtered, though it was all bluster now. In years past, he had been a force. Now he was too frail to do much. “Henry has not shown an interest in any of the royal women we’ve paraded before him. What am I to do?”

  Henry snorted. “The ladies of royal blood are either too young or too old. I would like to enjoy the state of matrimony without surviving the wild histrionics of such age groups.”

  That set the advisors into another round of muttering.

  “Enough.” Quinn turned to address the room at large. “The ball is a start, but allow Henry the time to court one or perhaps two of the ladies who might strike his fancy.” He held up a hand when his father began to protest. “Yes, I know you want him wed with alacrity. I am well aware of your selfish wish for grandchildren—”

  “—is it selfish to want to hear children’s laughter ringing through these halls before I die?” the king interrupted with a red face.

  “—however, once the children are grown, Henry will still have the wife,” Quinn continued as if his father hadn’t spoken. “Perhaps expand your timeline to say, six months? After that, if Henry hasn’t come up to scratch, then by all means choose a girl for him with no complaints from either side.” He bounced his gaze between his father and his brother. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” they both said in unison.

  “Splendid.” Quinn clapped his hands. “Now perhaps my brother and I can be dismissed? We do not need to hear the minutia of details.”

  “Go.” The king waved an age-spotted hand. “If I’d had daughters, I’d have grandchildren by now.”

  “If you’d had daughters, you would have been thoroughly hen-pecked and probably in the grave by now. Be thankful you had two sons instead who rarely bother you,” Quinn said in parting as he grabbed his brother by the upper arm and propelled him from the drawing room.

  “Two cursed sons!” the king yelled after them. “I don’t know which is worse.”

  You. You are worse, Father.

  “He grows more agitated with each passing year,” Henry mentioned as they walked down the long expanse of a hallway.

  “I agree. Soon, he will be unfit to rule. His mind skips at times. He thinks no one notices, for he covers it with complaining.” Quinn led the way. He turned at an intersecting corridor and then ducked into a study. “Today, he was lucid, but he is frail and fading even if he still looks stout enough.”

  “Yes. It won’t be long now.” Henry dropped into a leather wing-backed chair in front of a massive cherry wood desk. “I’m not certain I’m ready.”

  “Liar.” Quinn took a seat behind the desk, for this was where he worked when he was at the castle. “You have been ready for the throne for years now.” And he was welcome to it.

  “Perhaps.” Henry smiled. He held Quinn’s gaze. “Why did you wish for a private word? Usually, as soon as twilight fades, you are out of doors.”

  “I will do just that once we’re done.” While he enjoyed shifting in the early evening and ending his runs after midnight, Henry didn’t activate his powers until well after the witching hour. He dragged himself back at dawn before the castle roused. Quinn rested his hands on the desktop. Surrounded by his books and papers and plans for the poorest in the kingdom, his soul calmed somewhat. “Be honest. Is marriage right now what you want, or are you bowing to Father’s decree?” His brother and sire enjoyed a close relationship that Quinn had not experienced, and that was fine by him. Father and he didn’t see kingdom matters the same. He’d taken after their mother; may she rest in peace.

  “Yes.” Henry nodded. He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “It’s time to settle down. I’m eight and thirty, Quinn. I need to secure the line.” He narrowed his eyes. “You should do the same. One never knows what fate will bring to the future.”

  “Such a life is not for me.” Quinn shook his head. “I do not wish to curse any male children as I—we—are cursed.” Childhood had been a horrible time while he’d wrestled with coming to terms with being a wolf shifter as well as fitting into a society who only valued outer looks or coffer size.

  “But it might go better for them because their father—you—are the same,” Henry said in a soft voice. “We did not have that luxury and were thrown into it helter skelter.”

  “Perhaps.” Yes, his brother would be a wise ruler. Quinn relaxed a fraction. “However, I am in no rush to wed.” An image of Averell swam into his mind’s eye. Heat washed over him when he recalled the fleeting press of his lips against hers and the satiny feel of her skin beneath his fingers. “A dalliance wouldn’t be out of the question though.” Could he even coax such a woman into a tryst without her attempting to flay him alive with an arrow?

  “What gammon.” Henry rolled his eyes. “There is more to life than bedding women and then forgetting them.”

  “Such as?” Quinn raised an eyebrow as his body grew restless to leave these walls and run free through the forests. Perhaps come upon Averell again.

  “I want the companionship that marriage will bring, to wake up with a woman, to have someone other than advisors and sycophants to talk with. I wish for someone I can have adventures alongside.”

  “Someone who accepts your affliction and loves you despite it,” Quinn finished in a low voice. Would Averell be that sort of woman with her fear of wolves? “A woman who might welcome the abnormality instead of run from it.”

  “Yes. And aligning myself with a commoner might be easier than choosing a lady of royal blood. People who have real life experience are more accepting of magic than those who have had imagination bred out of them.” Henry said nothing else, for what was there to say?

  If that wasn’t the bald truth, he didn’t know what was. “That idea holds merit.”

  His brother looked closely at him. “You are more different, somehow, than usual, more… hopeful I want to say. Have you met a woman and you’ve not told me?”

  Heat crept up the back of Quinn’s neck. “It is too early to say.” Which it was. He’d been in her company twice and even then those were both brief meetings, but he couldn’t deny that pull. “I wonder now if I should pursue the connection of sorts I’m feeling for this woman.”

  “Ha! You have met someone.” Henry hooted with laughter. “And here you were giving me grief for wishing to find the same.” A knowing spark lit his eyes. “Yes, explore that. It doesn’t come around often.”

  “Perhaps I shall. While I’m working through this most bizarre occurrence, I wish you luck in your endeavor.” He stared unseeing at his brother as his mind worked through the possibilities opening within his own life.

  “Keep thinking about it until it becomes a reality, and if a woman has caught your eye, she must be made of stern and courageous stuff.” Henry stood. “I have other things to attend to tonight, and you’re ready to be off.” He smiled the grin that had earned him the moniker of charming. “Go. We shall talk later.”

  “Right.” Quinn shot to his feet.

  “And Quinn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Finesse the romance. Don’t throw her down and claim her. Make an effort. Women appreciate the wooing much more than you think. She might change your life, and she’s worth making a cake of yourself.”

  Another swath of heat enveloped him. Inside his head, his wolf howled with laughter. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then it was his turn to grin. “Make certain Father is settled into bed soon before he devises
another plan like creating an auction with eligible women in the kingdom.”

  Henry laughed. “I will.”

  HOURS LATER, just before midnight, Quinn shifted back into his human form. It had been good to run as far as he’d wished and as hard, only stopping to bedevil rabbits from their warrens or chase after a herd of deer and eat enough to appease his hunger.

  Now to take care of his thirst.

  He followed the stream where he’d first seen Averell. Every once in a while, he would pause and lap up some water until it ran down his chin and wet his chest. The cool water chilled him and sent renewed energy coursing through is veins. Then his wolf half tensed.

  She is here.

  Why the devil did Averell keep such nocturnal hours? Excitement tripped his pulse. Silently, he padded through the forest, being sure to keep to the trees and remain hidden. Eventually the stream ended in a pool with irregular edges, more a loose shape than a circle. He sucked in a breath.

  Averell.

  She was in the pool and completely naked. As the light of the nearly full moon bathed her form in silver, he stared as if he’d never seen a woman before.

  Mine, his wolf growled into his mind.

  Ours, he silently agreed. There was no use trying to deny that pull, that supernatural tug. Fate had put him here, led him to her. She was his mate. But how to convince her of that fact?

  Quinn peered at her from his shield of trees and shrubbery. He caressed his gaze over her pale form, lingering on the swell of her small, perfect breasts with their dusky rose tips and then downward to the water line. A curse of frustration welled but he stifled it. Damned water that hid her lower half from view.

  But her hair! That heavy, glorious mass had been released from its typical plait and now hung like a wavy curtain down her back. It too disappeared into the dark water. The wont to bury his fingers into those strands nearly had him bursting from his hiding spot, but he curled his hands into fists instead.