The Promise

by V J Dunraven

  “Of course,” he glanced at her as they waited for his coach by the entrance.

  Cassie had already forgiven him for his behavior earlier, like she always did. She was the ray of sunshine for his withered soul, the one who overlooked his faults and saw the potential beneath the rubbish that concealed the man he could become.

  And what kind of man could he be? Could he be the gentleman of her dreams, the paragon she could look up to—the ally she could always rely on? Should he rise up to the challenge and for once—see himself through her eyes? Could he part with his horns, hang his red cape with his pitchfork, shed his wicked image and transform himself to become—the real Prince Charming in the flesh?

  “What are you woolgathering about?” Cassie’s brows snapped together as they sat opposite each other in the plush carriage.

  He flicked his eyes at her, but instead of satisfying her with a reply, he simply gave her a little wink and a heart-stopping crooked smile.

  Chapter 19

  The Fall of Prince Charming

  Jeremiah Devlin Huntington was certainly in no mood to become Prince Charming. Certainly not at five in the morning, with his valet, Percy and his butler, Barton, waking him up. A nocturnal creature who habitually stayed up and was more active late into the night, sunrise was his signal to retire—not to arise from the cozy softness of his bed where he lay dreamily on his stomach, stark naked under the covers.

  “My lord.” Barton shook his shoulder a tad more forcefully. “You wanted us to wake you up before sunrise so you could get ready for your appointment.”

  “You must get up, my lord.” Percy patted his cheek. “I must help you get dressed or you will be late.”

  Jeremy groaned and buried his face deeper into his pillows. What kind of malevolent entity had contaminated his wits for him to think that he could actually do this?

  His mind, though a little foggy, may have been awake, but his entire body was dead asleep. He could not for the life of him, make his limbs agree to the commands of his brain.

  “My lord!” Barton’s voice had taken a sterner tone and he shook his shoulder almost violently.

  Percy took his cue and patted his cheek with noisy, stinging half-slaps.

  Good Lord, his servants have turned into sadistic brutes! Who would have thought they had the talent to beat him out of bed?

  Jeremy moaned in annoyance and tossed himself on his back, scrubbing his face with his hand. At the moment, he felt more like Satan and he’d rather be called the Prince of Darkness rather than Prince Charming in the flesh.

  “My lord?” Barton peered at him. “Are you awake?”

  “Do I look like I’m sleeping with my eyes open?” Jeremy snapped, arching his back with a yawn as he stretched his arms and legs.

  “Let’s get you ready.” They practically dragged him off the bed and flopped him on a fat chair by the fireplace. Within the next few minutes, Percy had him washed, shaved and dressed, and by the time he had gone downstairs, Barton had his horse, Eros, saddled.

  Jeremy inhaled the fresh morning air he seldom savored and urged Eros into a gallop. Cassie would be at the beach at this hour, doing God knows what. He would never understand the blasted chit. Why would anyone trade the warmth of a bed in place of freezing one’s arse in the chilly ocean breeze? Hell, he did not know what she was about—and neither did he know what he was about, riding like an idiot at this ungodly hour.

  A sliver of light peaked in the horizon as he neared the coastline. Well, he had to admit—the colors of dawn and the vista of the ocean, as the sun cast golden sparkles upon the water, was breathtaking. He suddenly found himself looking forward to seeing the sunrise with Cassie.

  The scene would have been perfect—but for the fact that Richard already sat next to her on the sand, both of them gazing out to sea like an old, contented couple.

  Jeremy felt the lance of an unfamiliar emotion in his chest. After that mad scramble to get out of bed—was this the reward he deserved? Lord, but he could just strangle the little twit for ruining his sleep, and as for Richard—it would be quite the thing if he could bury him in the sand and intentionally forget about him.

  Richard leaned over and whispered in Cassie’s ear. The two of them burst into laughter.

  Oho—would you just look at that! Jeremy trampled the jealousy that mushroomed in his gut. What could be so funny about the wretched, frigid sea? Moreover—why was he acting like a goddamned jealous lunatic? Cassie and Richard had always loved mornings at the beach—he knew that. Well then, what irrational motive made him think he had the right to be irritated with their closeness?

  He must have gotten used to being the protective betrothed—yes—that must be it—even if their engagement was a farce. After all, if they were going to get away with their charade, he should be acting as if he was jealous—right? He urged his horse into a faster canter towards them.

  Cassie turned at the sound of his approach. “Jeremy!” She waved excitedly at him.

  He waved back and nudged Eros to a trot towards where Apollo and Artemis were, and dismounted.

  “Jeremy! What are you doing up so early?” Cassie met him halfway with a big smile and a warm hug.

  “I was just wondering about the same thing.” he buried his face in her hair, then on impulse, picked her up and twirled her around.

  Cassie shrieked, laughing as he set her back on her feet. “What’s gotten into you?” She twined her arm through his and led him towards where Richard sat on the sand, watching them. “Are you sure you won’t turn into ash if the sun touches your skin?”

  “Who knows?” He suddenly dipped her backwards. “I might turn into a monster instead! Aaarrr!” He bit her lightly on the side of the neck.

  Cassie squealed and they both collapsed next to Richard in fits of laughter.

  I’m the luckiest girl in the world, Cassie thought, as she sat down between Jeremy and Richard on the shore. True, she’d never felt so happy in such a long time, sharing the sunrise with two of her favorite people. They watched in silence as the sky exploded in a bright rainbow of colors, fanning as far as the eye could see, until the junction between the heaven and the ocean melted into a single glowing panorama. Finally, as the colors faded and the sun intensified, Richard stood up.

  “I should be going.” he brushed the grains of sand that clung to his riding breeches. “Good to see you again, old chap.” he gave Jeremy a single slap on the shoulder and started walking towards the horses, whistling for Artemis.

  Cassie rose and caught up to him, asking with an expectant gaze, “Oh, but won’t you join us for breakfast at Rose Hill?”

  “No, thank you—perhaps another time.” Richard mounted his horse, his eyes shadowed, avoiding her gaze.

  “Will I see you tomorrow again, then?” She cupped her hand over her brow, as she looked up at him to shield her eyes from the glaring sun. His blond hair shone with gold flecks, flailing against the wind, his profile carving a perfect outline against the clear blue sky. Dear God, he was so handsome, he literally took her breath away.

  He pursed his lips and fiddled with the reins. “Cassie—I think it’s no longer proper for us to—” he drew a heavy breath and darted his eyes at Jeremy, “to be alone together.”

  “But—why?” Her chest constricted at the implication of his words.

  His brilliant blue eyes bored into hers. “You’re not eight and I’m not fifteen anymore, Cass. You are betrothed to Jeremy, and I, to Desiree. It wouldn’t—doesn’t—look right.”

  “B-but what about our mornings?” Cassie felt a lump growing in her throat.

  “You can have our beach.” He motioned at the stretch of coastline winding beautifully into a silver crescent.

  “And where will you be?” Her eyes began to blur with unshed tears.

  He shrugged and stare
d ahead. “On the other side of the bluffs.” he flicked his chin at the steep headland jutting out into the sea, with islands of jagged rocks that divided the east shores of Grandstone Park estates.

  Cassandra saw her almost-perfect world imploding all over again. “B-but when will I see you again?”

  He turned his gaze onto the ocean. “Whenever you wish—as long as you’re with a chaperone, or with—with Jeremy. I’ll do the same. I’ll call on Allayne and visit you with him. It’s for the best, Cassie.” His voice had softened into a whisper and she noticed the faint twitch of a muscle on his cheek.

  B—but—”

  “Please don’t—” he interjected with pleading eyes. “Don’t make it more difficult than it is. I don’t want this to hinder our friendship—especially Jeremy’s.” He glanced at Jeremy as he strode towards them, before he raised his hand in farewell and turned his horse around.

  Cassandra stood frozen on the spot as she watched Richard nudge Artemis into a gallop with his riding boot, until both horse and rider diminished into a small speck in the distance. Once again, she had regressed into an eight-year-old girl, gazing out the window, watching her prince ride away—wondering if he would ever come back again. She did not notice the wetness on her cheeks until Jeremy offered her his handkerchief.

  Jeremy had been secretly watching them from a few yards away, catching small snippets of conversation blown his way by the fickle wind. By the time Richard had left, he had a somewhat tentative presumption of what had transpired between them.

  “What’s this, brat?” He clamped his hands on his hips. “Don’t tell me you’re crying over that idiot again!”

  Cassandra mopped her face furiously with the square of fine linen and glared at him. “He’s not an idiot!”

  “Oh, yes—I stand corrected.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “You’re the idiot!”

  “Shut up, Jeremy Huntington!” She angrily stomped off in the direction of the horses.

  Jeremy caught her by the wrist and spun her around. “Don’t you dare walk away from me, Cassandra Carlyle! It is about time someone tells you to stop making a fool of yourself because of Richard! Your mad obsession over him is ridiculous!”

  “I don’t care!” She twisted her wrist and snatched it from his grip, moving away from him.

  “Well I do!” Jeremy yanked her back by the arm. “What in the devil’s name do you see in him, brat?”

  Cassie scrubbed her eyes with the handkerchief. “Everything,” she hiccupped. “He’s handsome, intelligent, kind, decent and responsible. He’s a good man—a loving man who loves his family, his friends and his God.” Her mouth curved into a pensive smile. “He adores the sea and the sunrise like I do—and he’s an excellent artist too.”

  Well damn, Jeremy thought in exasperation. Save for the handsome and intelligent part, he lacked every other quality Richard had. He certainly has big shoes to fill—if he was serious about becoming Prince Charming.

  He heaved a deep sigh. “I’m sure he’s all that, but he’s taken, brat—let it go.” He took the handkerchief from her and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Besides, as far as he’s concerned, he thinks you’re likewise taken.”

  Cassie snatched the handkerchief back and scowled at him. “I know—but neither of us is married—yet.” She lifted her chin in defiance.

  Her vehemence elicited a pang of displeasure in his chest. For some unknown reason, he could not picture Cassie in another man’s arms—even if he happened to be one of his best friends.

  Now where the fuck did that thought come from?

  Perhaps he’d missed her while he was in London. Perhaps he didn’t have anything better to do, or perhaps—he’d gone mad and thought he was actually falling.

  In love.

  With her.

  Jeremy muttered a curse under his breath and glared at Cassie—otherwise known as the notorious Piglet—his little brat and dearly betrothed—who was otherwise smitten with tiny Dick.

  Good God! Jeremy plunged both hands in his hair and pulled fistfuls of his own locks. Now he’d certainly gotten his pickle skewered on a stick!

  Chapter 20

  Princess Charming

  Cassandra sat on a wing back chair in front of the fireplace in her father’s library with an open book on her lap. She had been staring at the same page for the past half hour, seeing not a single word. She could not stop thinking about Richard. His sudden aloofness bothered her. But then—could she really blame him? His betrothal to that condescending female and his belief that she was betrothed to Jeremy, had changed their friendship. As always, given the task of coming to a wise decision, Richard saw the situation as objectively as a man groomed to inherit the Dukedom did.

  He chose to do what was expected of him.

  Would things be different if he’d come home without a lady goat in tow and without the news of her false betrothal? What would happen if both of them were free and they saw each other for the first time—as a man and a woman, like what happened at the beach? Cassandra leaned back in her chair and recalled their first encounter—the one in the meager privacy of the little alcove at Almack’s. The memory could still make her insides quiver and her toes curl. He looked at her differently then. His eyes smoldered when he slid his gaze over her face and heaving bosom. He beheld her the way a man would a woman, who was the object of his desire. She practically melted into a puddle under his heated inspection. However, instead of feeling offended, she felt desirable and wanted—a woman who has the power to entice the man who captured her heart.

  However—Richard didn’t know who she was, back then.

  Cassandra sighed and rested her head against the cushion of the high-backed chair. When she chanced upon him that morning at the beach, she waited for that same spark of desire in his eyes. She wanted him to kiss her—the way he almost did at Almack’s. But instead, he smiled at her with warmth and tenderness in his eyes, the way he used to, when she was a little girl. And even though his open affection twisted her nerves into knots and sent her heart aflutter, it likewise reminded her of his sisterly fondness of her.

  You are all grown up now, he said, but as she pondered more about the past few days they spent together—it occurred to her that he never touched her incongruously nor attempted to behave outside of decorum the way he did in London—even when they were without a chaperone.

  Did he really see her as a grown woman—or just a taller version of Cassie, his little piglet? Had the discovery of her identity extinguish his ardent desire for the unknown temptress she personified during their anonymous encounters in London?

  Cassandra set her book on the footstool and strolled towards the gilt mirror hanging on the wall over a half-moon enameled table near the door. She studied her reflection. The countenance of a young lady with stunning green eyes framed with long, curly lashes and a lush mouth in a perfect Cupid’s bow looked back at her. Her nose was small and straight, and her long red-gold hair fell in ringlets about her heart-shaped face. No, she thought, she may not be as beautiful as the goat lady, but she was attractive enough and had curves in all the right places. Jeremy always said she was the prettiest chit in all of England—especially when he wanted to eat some of her chocolate bonbons.

  She turned her head this way and that, thinking—if Richard had found her desirable when he didn’t know her identity, could it be possible for her to revive that passion in him all over again? What could she possibly do to wash off his wholesome childhood image of her? How could she transform herself into an enchantress who could once more bewitch him?

  Her gaze found the reflection of Jeremy’s supine figure sprawled carelessly on the chaise opposite her chair by the fireplace. After their morning at the beach, he had joined her family for breakfast, yawning in between bites of toast, ham and eggs. She invited him to her father’s library for a little bit of r
eading before he headed back home, but as soon as his body made contact with the soft large chaise, he had instantly passed out into a deep slumber.

  Poor man. What had possessed him to wake up at dawn? He even dressed nicely, was freshly shaven and wore his favorite cologne. She was so surprised to see him—all crisp and clean, with his dark hair smoothly slicked and tied at the back. He didn’t look rakish at all, indeed, he resembled a respectable gentleman.

  She grimaced. She rather liked him better with his hair down and windblown. The faint shadow of a beard along his jaw he preferred to keep also suited him just fine. If anything, it made him look even more devilish and terribly dashing. No wonder the ladies collapsed into vapors upon setting eyes on him.

  Cassandra walked over to where he lay and frowned at the way his head angled awkwardly on one side. One arm and a booted leg dangled from the chaise, his longish black hair hopelessly tousled over his brow. She took a pillow and propped his head carefully against it, brushing the stray locks from his face. Then, she wrestled off his riding boots and gently set his dangling limbs back onto the chaise. She grabbed a throw from one of the chairs and spread it over him before she sat on the edge next to him, wondering—what would Jeremy do if he were in her shoes?

  She watched him over the years, getting who he wants—when he wants. Not a single female was immune from Jeremiah Devlin Huntington—from the simpering chits, to the matchmaking mamas—even the grand dames worshipped the ground he walked on. He could charm a tree into submission if it had a skirt on it. How does he do it? Is there some secret code, some magic formula that one needed to learn? But—from whom?

  Her gaze settled on the man peacefully sleeping by her side and her lips curved up in a wicked smile.

  “Jeremy,” she rasped in his ear. “Wake up.”