And something about that struck a chord of fear in him. He didn’t want that. Of all the things he didn’t ever want to see, disappointment in her eyes topped the list. And if he’d not been interrupted by the parson, he would have dallied with Lisle. Just for fun, but if Gothel had found out, she would have been hurt. He would have hurt her.
He couldn’t do that. He loved her. Real love, the kind his heart had never fully experienced until now. And he was certain he needed to go back to her. A romp with Lisle wasn’t worth losing Gothel over.
With that, he ran toward the door. He needed to get back to the pub, back to Gothel, back to the life he was building.
Chapter 8 - Warning
Two days had passed since his encounter with Lisle, and he’d tried to put it out of his mind as he worked in the bakery. He realized that his restlessness the other day had been real, but it had also been different. His heart had wandered because of the place, not the person. He realized he wanted to marry Gothel. He wanted to be with her. But he wanted more than this town. And he could see her coming with him, his wife, as they traveled the world.
He could see it in his mind, their perfect union. He would be her protector, and she would be his light that kept him on the right path. It would be perfect. He just had to broach the subject with her the right way.
He’d been kind and solicitous with Gothel since his interrupted evening with Lisle, even convincing himself that he would have stopped without the interruption. He wouldn’t even have been with Lisle if this town hadn’t been getting to him. He knew the blame lay in the town, not himself. But he had a plan to combat it. He would leave this town and take Gothel with him.
He just needed to convince her of the reasoning.
His plan was simple. He and Gothel would meet at her secret garden. There wasn’t much now, just the last of the pumpkins, and he’d help her pull the weeds. They always were at such peace there. Then they’d make love on the quilt she always brought, and he’d ask her to be his wife. He’d ask her to leave with him.
Not an elopement. She wouldn’t go for that. She’d want her ma and pa there, and he’d ask old Geoffrey for his daughter’s hand, but he knew the man would say yes. And they’d marry and then head off. Head off to adventure. It all seemed perfect in his mind.
By the time he finished his day’s work, he was excited for the life they would have together. He left the bakery upbeat, and had convinced himself that a few well-placed words would convince her of the wisdom of his plan.
When he arrived at the garden, she was pulling some thorny weeds, and he dived in to help. Once they’d finished, she lay out their quilt and settled herself on one side, lying on her back, looking up at the sky. He lay beside her. The ground was firm beneath the blanket, and it was cool today, but lying next to her he felt warm.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said as he looked up at the thick white clouds in the distance heading slowly toward them.
She giggled, a happy sound that filled him with joy. “What about?”
“Us,” he said, his voice serious.
She turned to him, a smile stretched across her face. “What about us?”
“I want us to be together, always,” he said, his words tender but firm. He tilted his head towards hers, their lips meeting for a short kiss.
“I want that, too,” she said after their lips parted. Her grin was wide, and her face flush with color. A warmth filled her, her violet eyes seeming a shade brighter.
He stroked her cheek, and felt her warm tremor beneath his fingers. “I think about you and me, together, married, off on an adventure together. We could see other places, meet new people, have a wonderful life together.”
Her eyebrows squished together and she hesitated a moment before speaking. “An adventure?” she asked. “What about here? Don’t you like it here?”
He nodded. “Of course I do,” he said, forcing enthusiasm into his voice. “It’s wonderful. Perfect for settling down. Only, I thought we could adventure first. For a year or two. You do like my stories about other places, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, you know I do, Stil.”
“Well,” he said, looking right into her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like me to show you some of those places? I want nothing more than to share them with you. The way you’ve shared your home with me. That’s only fair, right?”
The corners of her mouth turned down and her lips pressed tighter together as she considered what he was saying. He watched, not speaking, waiting. Now, he knew, was not the moment to press things. He had to let her sense of fairness work this out for her.
Her face relaxed a bit, and she even managed to quirk one corner of her mouth up, as if a smile was attempting to form. “I guess that would be fair,” she said, nodding, almost as if to assure herself as much as him. “And I could see the places you talked about.”
“Yeah,” he said, soothingly. He could imagine it. Taking her back to some of the more interesting places, like that little village that had the fattest cow he’d ever seen. Wasn’t even sure how it stayed standing, it was so obese. Or back home, where his ma was. Not that she ever treated him well or expected much of him. But, he thought it might be nice for her to see that he’d found someone good.
“And then we could come back here,” she said. “And start our family. Maybe help Ma and Pa with the pub. I could see you taking orders behind the bar, the way pa does.”
He chuckled. Geoffrey was a bit like him in his cheer, in his ability to chat up anyone. “Yeah,” he said.
“And you’ll make a good pa, too. To girls, like me. Quiet, but smart and resourceful girls.”
He reached out and lifted her braid. “With pretty blonde hair and gorgeous eyes like yours.”
She laughed. “Nah,” she said. “No one in my family has eyes like mine. I’m a rarity. I bet they’ll be pretty green, like yours. It would suit a babe.”
He laughed. “It just might.” He looked up at the sky. It was getting darker. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to ask your pa if we could officially court. And when he says yes, it won’t be long until I can ask for your hand.”
Gothel grinned, then leaned in and kissed him.
He stroked her cheek, and said, “I love you, Gothel.”
“I love you, too, Stil.”
He reached out, pulling her to him, kissing her, stroking her back, the warmth of her body mingled with his a buffer against the cool air coming. He nuzzled her neck, finding that soft, tender spot that made her breath hitch, when his tongue caressed it. She tended to come alive when they were here, alone in the woods, her voice never constrained.
She tugged his shirt loose from his pants and slipped her hands along his back, tantalizing him with her touch. He pulled his shirt over his head, baring his chest for her. Gothel licked her lips and gripped the waistband of his pants, urging them down. He deftly slid out of his trousers and knickers, baring all to her.
She smiled and sat up, pushing him gently onto his back and climbing atop him. “You’ve got more clothes than me,” he said.
“I can fix that,” she said, pulling off her dress and letting him see her perfect body and her round breasts, perfect and ripe hanging before him, waiting to be tasted. Her smooth, perfect stomach, the lovely tuft of hair between her legs, the thick, luscious thighs that would soon wrap themselves around him.
His manhood stiffened, and he could feel the blood pumping through him. She stroked his rod, and he let out a moan as her warm fingers caressed him. His thoughts all fled his head, and all he could focus on was the feel of her on him. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. She tasted like a cranberry compote, a tart sweetness to her today, and he imagined she’d been cooking something tasty earlier. But secondhand was almost better.
Their tongues danced, with Stil savoring her taste as her fingers probed his chest, gently stroking him. His heart thumped beneath her palms, its pace ramped up with every delicious touch.
She pulled away, her violet eyes
finding his. She held his gaze as she used his hand to guide him inside her. The feel of her wet warmth embraced him, and he closed his eyes to savor it.
A soft finger slid across his cheek and she whispered, “I want to see you.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, at the girl who was one of a kind, who was his.
She smiled as she began to grind on him, her hips finding a rhythm that pleased them both. Her soft moans seemed to reverberate through him as she panted, as she found a motion that brought her to new heights. He tipped his head forward and ringed her nipples with his tongue, taking the thick little mounds into his mouth.
She let out a ragged breath as she pressed herself deeper to him. He took the moment to roll her over so he was on top. She smiled up at him and wrapped her legs around him. Between her tight thighs was exactly where he wanted to be.
He thrust deep inside her, and she let out a soft moan. He loved the soft moans and grunts she made as he pumped her hard. Her face betrayed every ounce of rapture that overtook her body. And she almost never closed her eyes. She found true thrill in connecting with him, in understanding him.
Sweat formed on her brow, and the blond hair was slicked to the edges of her forehead. Her body arched beneath his as he lunged deep inside her. Her slick juices coated him, driving him wild. A whoop of elation pierced her lips, and he could feel her coming undone beneath him. Feeling her wrapped around him, spasming rhythmically, he came.
The release was exquisite, and he kissed her forehead and rolled aside. He reached over to the basket she’d brought with her, pulled out a second quilt, and draped it over them. He held her tight.
“I’m so happy with you, Stil,” she said.
“You know that I’m happy with you, Gothel,” he said, meaning it. “Even if sometimes I get moody.”
She nodded. “I know,” she said. “It’s your way. It’s alright, I understand.”
He smiled at her, and squeezed her to him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” he said, and grinned at her.
“Alright, silly one,” she said. “For real. A real question, since you want to ask for my hand.”
He stiffened a bit, unsure what direction her question was going to take. “Go ahead.”
“What’s your name? I mean, I know it’s Stil, but once you told me it was a nickname, but you never said for what.”
“I don’t tell people my name. They laugh. It’s weird.”
She chuckled. “My name is Gothel. It can’t be more unpleasant than that.”
“Well, I suppose since you will be my missus, you should know.”
Her grin widened and she looked at him, eyebrow raised.
“Rumpelstiltskin,” he said. “Rumpelstiltskin Bager.”
He waited for her to laugh at him, to say it was awful, to offer her sympathies on such a convoluted name. “It’s nice,” she said, after a moment.
He blew out. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
She shook her head, the blond hairs brushing against his chest as she did. “I’m not lying. I do like it. It’s you in a single word, a single name. Stil is simple and easy, but you’re not at all simple. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, and Rumpelstiltskin says that.”
He laughed. She always had such a positive way to view the world. And he knew she believed every word of it. “Maybe,” he said, sighing as he looked up at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late and your parents will worry.
She nodded, and sat up. “Alright,” she said, locating her dress and pulling it over her head. “I’ll get going. You’ll come in about fifteen minutes, Rumpelstiltskin?”
He grimaced at the name. “I prefer Stil, and yes, I’ll leave plenty of time before I arrive, so your ma and pa shan’t suspect what you’ve been up to.”
She grinned at him as she gathered her things, including her basket. “Alright, Stil, your secret is safe with me, just as your heart is.”
She wandered away, headed home. He sat there for a minute, biding his time before heading off. He was happier than he’d ever been. He felt as if everything in the world was going his way. For once, life was going to be good to him, and it had all started with Gothel.
He’d gotten himself dressed and was planning to wait another moment before heading back to the pub when he heard the rustle of the trees. He turned, expecting to see Gothel returned, having forgotten something.
He smiled big for her, but it faded as he realized the woman coming into the clearing was none other than Lisle. His frown was immediate.
“Not the way you greeted me the other night,” she said, a hint of anger in her voice.
“That was a mistake, the other night,” Stil said, trying not to look at her. He didn’t want to forget his resolve.
She sidled over to him, stopping about a foot away, and waited for him to look up. When he finally did, she spoke. “So, why are you messing with Gothel? She’s not like me. She’s a nice girl.”
“Right on both accounts,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “She’s not like you, and she is a nice girl. But what makes you think I’m messing with her?”
“I saw you,” she said, clear as day.
He felt a flash of panic. “What did you see?” he managed to ask, without his voice going as shaky as he felt. For some reason, she was the last person he wanted to know about him and Gothel.
She grinned wickedly. “I know I saw you headed over to this patch of woods about an hour ago, when I was walking back from my friend’s house. I thought I’d head over here, see what you were doing, if I could find it. I got a bit tangled in the woods. The paths aren’t clear. I even tripped, which was a good thing, because a minute later, Gothel ran by. She didn’t see me because I’d fallen behind a thick tree. I went in the direction she’d come from, and who do I find looking like the puss who ate the canary. Or perhaps the canary who ate some pussy?”
He gritted his teeth, unhappy that she knew, but realizing there wasn’t much he could do about it. Given his and Gothel’s plans, the town would know soon enough. Might as well take pride in it. He puffed his chest slightly, and said, “Gothel and I are together.”
Lisle’s grin morphed into laughter, huge deep laughs so hard that she cradled her stomach and bent over.
He waited for her to compose herself a bit, and then, in the most serious tone he had, said, “There’s nothing funny about that.”
She righted herself, managing to regain her posture, and then she shook her head. “You and I are not Gothel’s type. You and I are the kind of people who would hurt her. I don’t want that for Gothel.”
Stil raised an eyebrow. “Why do you care what happens to Gothel? You barely know her.”
Now it was Lisle who raised an eyebrow. “You,” she said, emphasizing the word, “barely know her. I’ve known Gothel since we were two. We’re the exact same age, born three days apart. Our mothers were best friend. Then my mother died, and …” her words trailed off and her face, for once, looked innocent, young, even wounded, perhaps. “I went a different way from her. I wanted different things. I wanted to feel life, not be stuck doing nothing, having nothing, living a nothing life. We fought, and she and I, we don’t talk much now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about her, Stil. And you’re no good for her.”
She had pointed a thin finger at him and spoken her last words with a sneer. It was the same way his mother used to look at him, used to point at him. He hated it. He hated any woman who tried to belittle a man. He took a step toward her, his back straight, accentuating his full, imposing height and he spoke roughly. “You don’t know me. And I do love Gothel. We’re together. ..”
She smiled wickedly. “And would you be together if I told her about us?”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and squeezed. “There is no us. Nothing happened last time,” he said bitterly.
“Only because my Pa came,” she said, her eyes never leaving his, but her mouth wincing in pain. He
was squeezing her hard now.
He didn’t let up. “You won’t tell her anything about what we’ve done. Do you understand?”
Her wince deepened and for a moment, she said nothing, and finally she let out a strangled “Fine.”
He released her, and she immediately backed away and began rubbing her shoulders. “You shouldn’t treat women like that,” she said. “One day, you’re going to run across the wrong maiden and she’ll make you pay. The FaeRisen have been here, y’know.”
He squinted at her. “The Ferrizzen?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “The Fae, like fairies, and Risen, like those who have risen above the rest. They’re sorceresses. They recruit wronged women. They give them magic in exchange for their promise to protect lasses from evil men like you.”
Part of him wanted to laugh. What she was saying was ridiculous. Yet her demeanor was so completely serious, he could tell she believed it. There was something real about it. “How do you know about these people?”
“They offered me,” she said. “Said I could become one of them, get back at the man who ... well, get back at a man.”
“So, why didn’t you accept their offer?” He cocked a smile, wondering what excuse she’d offer for turning down magic. He could not imagine a wicked thing like her turning down revenge.
“You have to pledge yourself to a life of celibacy, and no vengeance is worth that,” she said, offering a salacious grin.
If he hadn’t realized how much losing Gothel would hurt, he’d have been tempted by Lisle’s pretty face. Instead, his new resolve to take Gothel away from here, to take her on a new adventure had strengthened his ability to resist this temptress. He simply stepped to the side, motioning for her to be on her way. “That does sound like a damned tough requirement.”
“Aye,” she said. But she didn’t move. She stared, at him, waiting for him to speak.
“So why are you telling me this?
“So you know that people like you do get their comeuppance when they mess with the wrong gal. And Gothel is the wrong gal for you.”
Stil's Heart Page 6
