Promise Forever: Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist

by Pauline Creeden

  Montague was on his feet, shaking his head. “Conrad? That weasel!” He paced the floor. “This can’t be happening.”

  He stormed toward the worried Wilhelm. “Let me see that.” He snatched the papers out of the man’s hands and scanned the will.

  “Your Highness,” Harrod said, but was waved away.

  Montague slid down into a chair. “Surely this can’t be legal?”

  Wilhelm stared at him, pity clearly written all over his face. “Unfortunately it is. His Royal Highness the King was concerned that you still hadn’t married.

  If you don’t marry soon, you’ll lose everything. The kingdom and all that goes with it. Not to mention possible banishment”

  His heart beat rapidly. How could his father do this to him?

  “May I continue, Your Highness?” Wilhelm reached for the ill-gotten papers, and waited for his response. Montague waved the man on.

  “Monsilvania needs both a King and Queen to rule effectively. Montague must marry within two weeks of my death, or the title and all that goes with it must be handed to my nephew, Conrad Gustov.”

  Montague shook his head. “Crazy old man.” He snatched the papers back from the solicitor and stormed out of the room.

  How the hell would he find a wife in under two weeks? And what woman in her right mind would marry him? Especially once they knew...

  He was doomed. His revolting bed-hopping cousin was slated to take over, and would ruin the country.

  Chapter 2

  After changing into his riding breeches, Montague stormed out to the stables.

  A brisk ride – that’s what he needed.

  Get the dread of the morning out of his mind, and then get back to business.

  “Good morning, Your Highness.”

  He was startled by the newcomer, and looked the young woman up and down, ensuring to keep to the shadows. “Who are you,” he snapped. “And what are you doing in my stables, attending my horses?”

  She was a petit thing of perhaps twenty-two years old. She straightened her back and braced her shoulders when he barked at her.

  Then she laughed. “Don’t you remember me, Your Highness?”

  He couldn’t recall having seen her before. He dredged the depths of his mind, but nothing surfaced. Surely he would have remembered this beauty, no matter the circumstances of their meeting?

  “I’m sorry, but no.”

  She laughed again. A musical tinkling sound that had butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

  “I’m Petunia.”

  He stared at her. That couldn’t be right. “Petunia Grayson? How could that be? You were just a child last time I saw you.”

  She swallowed, then smiled. It was a forced smile, and he wondered what had crossed her mind.

  “His Royal Highness the King sent me away to boarding school,” she said, with a touch of bitterness in her voice. “I’ve only recently returned.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t know you were back. You just…disappeared, and I had no idea why for quite a time.”

  “I was sorry to hear of his passing,” she said gently. “He was kind to me, and to my father. Said I must have schooling and learn to be a proper lady.” She laughed, as though it was a joke.

  Montague stepped gingerly out of the shadows, toward the stall his pride and joy was housed in.

  Petunia gasped. He wondered how long it would take her.

  She stepped forward and touched her soft fingers to his cheek. “What, what happened to you,” she asked softly, tears in her eyes.

  He straightened his back. He didn’t want to do this, but she’d been his friend when they were two lost souls together.

  “An accident involving fire,” he said abruptly. “It was a long time ago.” Perhaps it was, but it still gave him nightmares, and he felt so self-conscious about it, he rarely left the castle.

  The stables was one of the few places he visited on a regular basis. He somehow found solace there.

  He reached for his horse’s saddle and began to prepare him for the ride that would take his mind off other more pressing things.

  Duke walked over to him, anticipating what was ahead. The Arabian loved riding as much as Montague loved riding him.

  The gray head shoved into his shoulder and he whinnied.

  As he reached across for the reins, he caught Petunia staring.

  Her eyes met his, then she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m not used to it. You were always such a handsome young man.”

  He glared. “And now I’m not?” Anger boiled up in his belly. He should be used to it by now, but he didn’t expect the harsh words to come from Petunia.

  “I didn’t mean it like that at all. You are still very handsome.”

  Her words didn’t appease him.

  “Can I ride with you, Monty?” She bit her bottom lip as soon as the words were out.

  Monty? No one had called him that in years. Petunia was the only one who’d ever dared call him anything other than Your Highness. He smiled at the thought.

  They’d spent most of their childhood together, and had so much fun roaming around together.

  “Sure, why not?” He continued to ready the horse while Petunia prepared Rose, a sweet Friesian, who had been with them as long as Duke.

  As they trotted out of the stables together, Petunia flicked back her long blonde hair. He thought back to the last time they’d ridden together – right before she’d been sent away.

  He remembered the way she’d done that with her hair back then – it was etched in his mind.

  He’d desperately wanted to run his fingers through her hair, but she was only sixteen and he was twenty-four.

  It wouldn’t have been right.

  Now she was back, rekindling all those feelings he’d had for her. But it was too late.

  He wasn’t the same person she’d known when they were younger. He’d been damaged.

  She was repulsed by his looks, that much was obvious. It was all he needed to know.

  “Race you!” she shouted, then suddenly took off, leaving him in her dust.

  “That’s cheating,” he shouted to her retreating back.

  After awhile he realized where she was headed.

  The old shack. Their special place.

  “Petunia, wait,” he shouted, his heart racing, but she continued on.

  It seemed like forever before he caught up with her. When he did she was standing next to Rose, staring at the spot where the old shack used to be.

  They’d spent hours in that place, talking about what they’d do with their lives when they grew up.

  They’d always pretended he wouldn’t grow up to be Prince Montague Frederick Gustov, future King of Monsilvania, but would instead morph into someone entirely different.

  There were many occupations he’d fantasized about, but she was always the stable hand. She adored horses, and that was her dream job.

  He tried to brush those memories aside and deal with the here and now.

  “What happened to it?” she asked, emotion in her voice.

  He dismounted and stepped toward her. “There was a fire,” he said quietly, trying to block out the memories, but no matter what he did, he continued to relive the fear on the gypsy’s horse.

  He heard its screams, saw the terror on its face, and felt the flames burning his skin as though it was happening now, this moment.

  “Are you alright, Monty? You’re white as a ghost.” She reached down and squeezed his hand.

  He nodded then pulled his hand away and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  The terror he felt now was relived every night when he closed his eyes. Would it ever go away?

  Instead of answering the question, he changed the subject. “It was our special place. I was sad it was gone.”

  She nodded, but continued to stare at the charred remains of the shack.

  “I always enjoyed coming here with you,” she said, obviously still shattered by what she’d found. “It
was an escape from reality.”

  He swallowed; his thoughts exactly. He reached over and took her hand.

  Her skin was so soft. If she fulfilled her wish of becoming a stable hand, that would quickly change.

  “Come with me,” he said, and she complied. They walked to a nearby hill, then lay down on the grass and studied the clouds.

  As they’d walked toward the hill, he’d glanced back over his shoulder. That terrible day was so etched in his memory, and he bore the physical scars of the tragedy.

  Shaking those thoughts away, he lay on her right to save her from the discomfort of seeing his scars. It was the least he could do for his childhood friend.

  After all, she’d made his life worth living in those difficult years.

  “How are you coping with your father’s death?” Her words came out of the blue, and he wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “Not very well,” he said quietly. “To top it all off, Father’s will was read this morning.”

  She turned to look at him – he could feel her gaze on his face. “No surprises, surely?”

  He laughed. “You have no idea.” He went silent as bitterness rose up like bile in his mouth. “I have to marry within two weeks, or hand the kingdom over to that fool cousin of mine, Conrad Gustov.”

  “No!” Disbelief was evident in her voice.

  He sighed. “Unfortunately yes.”

  She stared at him. “What are you going to do?”

  He began to stand, and reached for her hand. “I don’t know. I can’t let Conrad take over – he’s always been a playboy. He would bring the family into disrepute, not to mention bankrupting the kingdom with his feckless behavior.”

  Anxiety rose in his throat threatening to choke him at the mere thought of it. His ancestors had always been honorable people. He couldn’t in all honestly, allow his cousin Conrad to take the reins.

  “That’s horrible,” she said, then leaned in and hugged him. Petunia had always been a hugger, and he’d hated it as a young boy.

  All of that changed in his teenage years, and now he didn’t want it to end.

  His arms went up around her, and he held her tight. The silkiness of her hair lingered on his fingers, the floral fragrance drifted into his senses. It reminded him of days gone by.

  “Do you remember the first time we rode out here,” she asked, as they pulled apart.

  He laughed. “I do. You fell off your horse at least three times on the way here.”

  She stomped her foot and put her hands to her hips. “I did not.”

  “Yes you did. I clearly remember having to pick you up and put you back in the saddle.”

  She giggled. The sound was like music to his ears, and his heart fluttered.

  “We’d best leave. Everyone will wonder where we’ve gone.” Not that he wanted to leave, not really. But she’d stirred up feelings in him, and he wasn’t prepared to think that way. Especially when he had to concentrate on finding someone to marry.

  He helped her up onto Rose, then mounted Duke. They rode in silence for the next twenty minutes, and he worried he’d inadvertently offended her.

  His head began to hurt from the thoughts running through his mind, and the sun shinning in his eyes didn’t help one little bit.

  The stress of having to suddenly marry was getting to him. Why hadn’t his father warned him? If he’d known in advance, he could have prepared, looked for someone suitable.

  “What are you going to do?” Her sweet voice came out of the blue, and startled him.

  “Honestly? I have no idea. Any suggestions?”

  She bit her bottom lip. When they were kids she always did that when she had something on her mind. Something worrying.

  “Whoa.” She stopped without warning. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  He turned Duke around and came to face her. He was curious as to her solution. He’d wracked his brain all afternoon and nothing had come to him.

  “I’ll marry you.”

  Chapter 3

  The look of shock on Monty’s face was disappointing.

  They’d grown up together. They knew each other almost intimately.

  Why hadn’t he thought of her as a potential wife?

  She already knew the answer to that – she wasn’t queen material. She was just the daughter of a lowly stable hand.

  “It’s a nice gesture, and I appreciate it,” he said. “But I would never ask you to sacrifice your life for me.”

  “You didn’t ask,” she snapped, then kicked Rose’s side, taking off without warning.

  She heard Monty calling out to her, urging her to stop, but she ignored him.

  Did he honestly think it would be a sacrifice to marry him? When she’d loved him her entire life? Even when they were younger she’d had a crush on him.

  If she was honest with herself, it was likely the reason the king had sent her away. He could surely see they were becoming closer with every moment they spent together.

  He wouldn’t want his son the prince to marry a commoner such as herself.

  Why did she even think it would be an option for her and Monty to marry? Someone would find a way to block the marriage.

  “Whoa!” Monty reached out and grabbed Rose’s reins.

  “Let go,” she shouted, and tried to continue on, but he had a good grip.

  “Not until we discuss this.”

  She recalled how forthright he could be, but also remembered the way she was able to wrap him around her little finger.

  “Nothing to discuss,” she said. “I offered a solution to your problem, and you refused. Your Highness.” The last words were emphasized, meant to hurt.

  He reached across and took her hand. She liked the feeling she got when he touched her. She always had.

  But now was not the time for such things. He wasn’t interested in her – like that. Truth be known, he never had been.

  She wasn’t hanging around for another rebuttal from him, and clicked her tongue, urging Rose forward.

  She’d forgotten Monty had hold of the reins, so instead of moving forward, she fell to the ground as the horse took off.

  Petunia lay on the ground, stunned by the fall. She closed her eyes against the harsh sunlight.

  She felt him standing over her before she even opened her eyes.

  “Petunia,” he said urgently. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

  Her eyelids fluttered and she looked up into his concerned face.

  She poked out her tongue then broke into laughter. “Of course I’m alright. Did you think I was dead?”

  But he didn’t laugh. If anything his face became more grave than it was a few moments ago. “That isn’t funny. I thought you were badly injured.”

  His hand outstretched, he helped her to her feet. Then he smiled. “And once again Miss Petunia falls off her horse!”

  She didn’t laugh, but instead dusted herself off, then looked around. “Rose is gone,” she said quietly.

  “She’ll make her way back to the stables.” He climbed up onto his horse, then reached his hand down to her. “Jump up,” he commanded.

  “I’ll walk, but thanks anyway,” she said bitterly, beginning her homeward trip.

  “Please yourself.” He began to trot ahead, and she was annoyed.

  “Such a gentleman,” she shouted to his back.

  He stopped and turned to face her. “Your decision, My Lady,” he said, doing a mock bow to her, and reaching his hand down again.

  This time she accepted the offer. It was, after all, a long way back to the castle. Probably at least half a day on foot. It would be well dark by then.

  Once settled at Monty’s back, she held him around the waist.

  This wasn’t the first time they’d ridden like this, if you discounted the saddle. Monty had always loved to ride bareback, and she did too.

  Some of their trips to the old shack were made that way, until her father insisted they needed two horses, each bearing their own saddle.

 
Looking back she wondered if her father and the king had been in cahoots. Were they both worried the relationship was becoming too serious?

  “Monty,” she said softly, her head resting against his back. “I was serious about marrying you.”

  She waited for his response, but all she heard was his sharp intake of breath.

  “It would be no hardship for me, and would get you out of a pickle.”

  His muscles contracted. “It would be for a lifetime,” he said gruffly. “The king and queen can never divorce.”

  “I know.” Her voice was quiet. Much softer than she’d intended. “It’s not like we hate each other,” she said, even softer than before.

  He was silent, and she wondered what he was thinking. When he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

  “Why would you want to marry a monster?” he snapped.

  “You’re not a monster,” she screamed, tears running down her face. “Just because you have scars on your face, doesn’t make you less of a man.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said, resentment filling his voice.

  She finally understood he didn’t see himself the way she saw him. A kind and gentle man who cared for others. A man who thought of everyone else before himself. Someone who would sacrifice the rest of his life to ensure his uncivilized cousin didn’t ruin the royal family. Or the country.

  “Perhaps it’s possible,” he said quietly.

  Would she really become Monty’s wife, after all these years of longing?

  “It would be a marriage of convenience,” he said. “You understand that, right? You’re like a little sister to me.”

  A little sister? It wasn’t something she wanted to hear, especially coming from Monty.

  Tears rolled down her cheek. The last thing she wanted was to be treated like a little sister. She’d pinned for Monty the entire time she’d been banished from the kingdom. How could she marry him and stay platonic?

  It was an impossible ask, but a sacrifice she was willing to make for the man of her heart.

  Chapter 4