He shook his head. Anything would be better than that.
He quietly closed the door and returned to his room. Not that he expected to sleep.
He wouldn’t have that luxury. His heart was shattered, and he had no idea how to fix it.
Chapter 10
“Good morning, Your Highness.” Martha threw the curtains back and the light hit Petunia in the face.
“Would you like a hot bath?”
She stood back and waited for an answer.
The door was wide open, and Petunia looked across, trying to get a glimpse of Montague, but his door was closed.
“His Royal Highness the King has been up for hours, Your Highness,” Martha said.
“He asked me to let you know the Royal Tailor will be here in about an hour for your first fitting.”
“Tailor, fitting…what are you talking about, Martha?” Petunia reluctantly sat up in bed. She could have slept longer, after all, she’d lain awake half the night, fretting about the state of her marriage.
Her pretend marriage, she reminded herself.
Why she’d ever suggested this, she had no idea. But of course she didn’t know Monty was going to treat her this way. Banish her from his room, and keep her at a distance that was unnatural for a married couple.
“That would be nice, Martha. Thank you.”
The young girl turned toward the bathroom. “I could do your hair afterward, if you like, Your Highness.”
“That would be lovely, Martha. I appreciate it.”
She would ask Martha to choose her prettiest dress. She would find a way to make her husband desire her, and not discard her like a piece of old rubbish.
“You look really pretty, Your Highness,” Martha said later when she was brushing Petunia’s hair.
“Thank you. I hope my husband the king thinks so too.”
She caught the look of confusion on the young woman’s face in the mirror. She dare not confide in her, lest it spread through the castle like wildfire.
She knew how these things worked. The staff had little to amuse themselves, and a tit-bit like this would be the talk of the palace.
Monty would never forgive her.
“Tell me more about this tailor.”
Martha paused and stared at the reflection of the new queen. “I don’t know much, Your Highness, except…”
“Oh please, call me Petunia. It will be our secret.” She winked and Martha looked at her in despair.
“I could never, Your Highness.”
Petunia sighed. She should have guessed as much. “About the tailor?”
“All I know is His Royal Highness the King said you need a new wardrobe of clothes.”
Petunia sighed again. “This will be so very tiresome,” she said, staring at the young woman’s reflection.
“Oooh, but exciting too, Your Highness. All those beautiful new clothes.” She grinned. “I wouldn’t say no.”
How did she respond to that? There were so many young women working in the castle who went without, and now Monty was going to splurge on a new wardrobe for her?
It was criminal, and she would tell him so.
The Royal Tailor waited in the other room while Petunia argued bitterly with the king.
“I have my own clothes, Monty. I don’t need more.”
He should have known. Petunia had always been a minimalist. She’d had no choice as she’d grown up – her father had no idea how to raise a daughter.
His mother had felt sorry for the girl and provided much of what she needed growing up. Her father had complained bitterly, but the queen was having none of it.
But this situation was different. “We will host functions, and you will be seen by dignitaries and officials,” he argued. “You will be dressed appropriately.”
She pulled her lips into a tight line. A sure indication she was furious with him.
The last time he recalled her doing that was when he’d dumped her into the saddle after falling off her horse. Something she denied, even to this day.
He began to laugh at the memory. She’d been so darned mad at him.
“What’s so funny?” She stood with her hands on her hips, her face red with anger.
He stepped toward her. “You have the same expression on your face now as when I dumped you back in the saddle.”
He went to put his arms around her, but she stepped back.
“Didn’t happen,” she snapped, and he stopped in his tracks.
He needed to rethink this. “What will it take to get you to allow the tailor to do a fitting?”
“Martha needs new clothes.”
He glared at her. “What?”
She stood her ground, just like he expected she would. “Have the tailor make two new dresses for Martha, and I’ll comply.”
He near-choked on her words. “No.”
“Shall I send the tailor away now?” She headed for the door.”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Petunia! Alright.”
She stood there grinning at him, and he wanted to do nothing less than pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
But that was far from sensible. Instead he opened the door and let the tailor in.
“Don’t forget to call Martha,” she called sweetly behind him.
She could still wrap him around her little finger, but he had to be strong. His heart depended on it.
“Dinner is served, Your Highnesses.”
Montague ushered Petunia into the dining room.
He pulled out the chair for her, then walked to the other end of the long table. The disdain on her face said it all. They were barely within talking distance, let alone thinking about touching each other – if that’s what they wanted to do.
“Who thought up this stupid idea,” she shouted down the room.
He shoved his chair back, scraping the floor. His annoyance at the lack of forethought was apparent.
The door suddenly opened and a procession of people laden with food entered the room.
“Bring it down here,” he commanded. “I’m sitting with my wife.”
One of the young maids scurried forward and moved all the place settings to the king’s new position at the table.
“Thank you, Anna,” he said. Montague knew the names of every member of staff, something he prided himself on knowing.
Anna curtsied. “Welcome, Your Highness.”
Joseph, the head of the wait staff waved the others forward. “Chicken pie, Your Highness. I hope it is to your liking.”
The pie was placed in front of them, along with a variety of vegetables.
The food was served, then the wine, and finally they were left alone.
Petunia leaned in. “Smells good.”
“It does.” He reached across and put his hand over hers. “Petunia…”
“Better eat it while it’s hot.” She pulled her hand out of his grip and picked up her knife and fork. “Oh, this is divine.” She closed her eyes and savored every mouthful.
Montague on the other hand wasn’t hungry. He pushed his plate away and stared at his wife.
“Is something wrong, Monty?” She stopped eating and frowned.
He took a sip of wine. It tasted bitter. Or maybe it was his current disposition.
“We need to talk.”
She took another mouthful. “Not now. Eat your dinner. We can talk later.” She ate her food, blissfully unaware of the torture he’d put himself through.
He mulled over the words he wanted to say, and finally forced them out. “Do I repulse you, Petunia?”
Her head shot up, and he averted his eyes. If he did repulse her, he didn’t want to see the disdain written on her face.
“What did you just say?” She paused, but he refused to answer. “Look at me, Monty. Please.”
The desperation in her voice cut through his heart. “Monty?”
He turned his head and stared into her face. “Do I repulse you?” he whispered.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “How could
you even think such a thing?” She reached out and covered his hand, but he snatched it away.
Tears slid down her face, and it was all he could do not to wipe them away.
She pushed her chair back and stood, towering over him. “How could you…?” She ran out of the room crying, and it broke his heart.
The thing that stood out more than anything, was that she hadn’t answered.
It was late, but Petunia was still wide awake.
She’d gone straight to bed after her exchange with Monty.
Despite her determination to sleep, her tears flowed again the moment she closed her eyes.
The vision of her handsome husband standing next to her at their wedding ceremony filled her mind. But more than that, was the vision of him asking if he repulsed her.
She could see the desperation on his face. The utter terror that she might answer to the positive.
How could he even think that? Surely he understood by now how much she loved him?
That his scars meant nothing to her, that she saw beyond them, and into his heart instead?
The cruelty he must have endured after the fire tore her in two.
She wiped the tears from her face and tried to sleep once more, her back to the door.
As she finally drifted off, she heard the door slowly open, a shaft of light filtered into the room.
She dare not move, but wondered if Monty would hear her if she screamed.
She felt the bed dip as her visitor sat on the end of the bed. Her heart beat escalated.
She’d been through this before when a stranger had made his way into her room at the boarding school.
She’d screamed but no one had come. He’d carried her down the stairs, where he was finally challenged, but ran away, never to be seen again.
“Petunia,” Monty whispered, breaking into her unwanted memories. “Are you awake?”
She was about to answer when he continued.
“My beautiful Petunia, the love of my life.”
Confusion set in. If she was the love of his life, why did he banish her? And why wouldn’t he kiss her?
He stood, and walked to the other side of the room. She watched him through almost closed eyes.
He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin. “I am nothing but a selfish fool. I had no right to do this to you.”
She wanted to cry out, to tell him she was awake and listening to every word. But she didn’t. Part of her didn’t want to hear his conversation, meant only for his ears. The other part wanted to understand his thoughts.
“Things would be different if not for these scars.” He rubbed his hands through his hair, and stepped toward her.
“I don’t regret my actions for one minute. Duke would have died in the old shack if I hadn’t rescued him.”
There was so much emotion in his voice, it took all her effort not to react. That was how he got his scars? Saving Duke?
His heart had always been good. He had been special as a young boy, but was extraordinary as a man.
“Oh Monty,” she said as she slowly sat up. “What an amazing thing to do.”
He gasped as he stared at her. “You’re awake! Why didn’t you say?”
“Would you have said all those things if you knew I was awake?”
His hand went through his hair again. “Probably not.”
She slid out of the bed and stood in front of him, lifting her arms to form a hug. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember,” she whispered. “This confirms everything I’ve ever thought about you.”
His arms came up around her, and he pulled her closer still. He lifted her chin with his fingers and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I love you too,” he whispered, then lifted her into his arms and carried her into the Royal Suite, placing her gently on the bed.
Epilogue
Trumpets blared as the King and Queen of Monsilvania stood on the balcony overlooking the much-loved courtyard.
They stood resplendent in their traditional gowns, the queen holding their wriggling two-year-old daughter, and their new baby in the King’s arms.
He briefly showed baby Frederick Edward Gustov to the citizens of Monsilvania, then went back inside with him.
The innocent baby had no idea of the responsibilities that awaited him when he was older, and Montague hoped he didn’t have to worry for a very long time.
He knew with his wife’s guidance, Prince Frederick would become a much-loved young man.
Petunia sat in one of the lounge chairs, and her husband passed the now crying baby to her.
As the baby attached himself to her breast, Montague stared down at his family.
He couldn’t believe how fortunate he was.
When Petunia suggested a fake marriage, he’d not even dreamed it could one day become real.
But real it was. Two people couldn’t love each other more than they did.
Even with the pressures of running a kingdom, they were very much in love.
He leaned in and gently kissed his wife’s cheek. Her eyes met his, and her hand came up to caress his cheek.
She turned her head and her lips brushed his.
The days of worrying about his looks were long-gone. Petunia had proven her love, and had shown him what was inside was much more important than what was on the outside.
About the Author
Multi-published, best selling and award-winning author, Cheryl Wright, former secretary, debt collector, account manager, writing coach, and shopping tour hostess, loves reading.
She writes both contemporary and historical western romance, as well as contemporary romance and romantic suspense.
She lives in Melbourne, Australia, and is married with two adult children and has six grandchildren.
When she’s not writing, she can be found in her craft room making greeting cards.
Check out Cheryl’s Amazon page for a full list of her other books.
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Entangled
J. R. Castle
A Rapunzel Retelling
Entangled
I’m caged in a magical world of In-Between. Lost to my past life and an enigma to the present. My future is shrouded in mystery and the only thing holding me in place is Liam.
Nobody knows the truth about Rachel Nightingale’s enchanted musical giftings, except her tutor, Master Marcus, and his nephew Liam who is a gifted violinist. When Rachel and Liam’s friendship develops into something deeper, something full of its own magical enchantments, they make a binding vow to never part from each other.
To be together forever, Liam must find a way to break the songbird free from her impenetrable cage.
Godmother Estelle magically built the sanctuary between the human world and the faerie’s realm where she'd hidden Rachel away from greedy eyes. She will not relinquish control over her protege without a fight in this modern-day Rapunzel retelling.
Entangled © 2019 J. R. Castle
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Chapter 1
Present day.
What if, when the announc
er introduces me, I’m already gone?
What if, I manage to somehow get past the bodyguards Godmother has hired to protect me?
What if they aren’t here to protect, but rather to keep me from running?
Will it take them very long to track me down and bring me back? What will be the punishment for trying to escape?
The stadium is filled to capacity. I can’t believe my eyes as seats fill all the way up to the third-floor balconies on all sides. Cell phone lights wave in the darkness like the flickering fireflies dancing over the garden hedges that surround my home at dusk.
My fingers dig into the thick deep blue velvet fabric of the curtain running along the back of the stage. The dance ensemble is finishing their last number. Bodies fly through the air, twirling and flipping. I bet it’s a real sight to see from the audience’s side. From here, it’s more like shadows fluttering before my closed eyes. I can’t make out their forms from all the bright stage lights.
The fast-paced music pounds in my ears. I’m not fond of the current music trends. Up until a few years ago, I had no idea such music existed. Godmother insisted I practice only classical pieces. She only allowed certain composers to be played in my presence.
Then Liam and his enchanting violin came into my life and opened the windows of my prison cell.
Five Years Past…
Even now, I’m not sure why I was drawn to the piano first, but it called to me in the same manner that the wind sang to me.
I lived an isolated life on my godmother’s property. I had no idea where in the world Estelle Froste’s mansion actually was. The stone, two-story house was surrounded by vast gardens and thick woods. It was a place of dreams.
My bedroom suite was adorned in muted greens and yellows. A beautiful red oak bed was sheltered by pale gossamer curtains. I had a large playroom with dollhouses and stuffed animals to entertain myself, along with all sorts of art materials to explore every creative whim.
Promise Forever: Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist Page 15