Chapter Eight
Alone in the small cottage after dark, Snow felt more frightened than she had dared admit to the children. Every noise set her to jumping and the silence kept her nerves on edge.
At first, she had gone from window to window, her gaze scanning the forest's edge for a glimpse of Simon returning, but soon after the boys had left, a light rain had begun to fall, forcing her to close the shutters.
Sure the boys would return soon, probably sooner than she first had thought because they would need to get out of the rain, Snow curled up in her chair by the fire and started to sew.
She had found another quilt in the bottom of the pantry during her foray today and while the boys had been out hunting earlier, she had taken it apart and cut the pieces she would need to make new shirts for some of the boys from the material.
While she sat quietly plying needle and thread, the wind kicked up outside and by full dark, a roiling storm howled through the forest, beating upon the roof, and shaking the trees while lightning seared the sky, creating images in the shadows where none had previously been.
Wind whistled through the cracks in the shutters, making the flames of the candles she had lit dance upon their wicks. Snow sat her sewing aside and went around the room, dousing the flames. Left with but a single lantern, she added another log to the fire and settled down again in her chair.
The hour grew late and her eyelids began to droop, but still she waited, sure the boys would come pounding on the door at any moment, but when the sound she had been waiting for finally came, the timid knock was barely distinguishable over the noise of the storm.
Snow jumped up from her chair and rushed to turn up the lamp before she went to open the door, relieved the boys had returned at last. The poor dears, she thought. They would be soaked and freezing, like as not. But she would put more wood on the fire and soon all would be well and she could settle into her temporary cot and sleep.
The knock sounded again, louder this time, and Snow had her hand on the bolt before it occurred to her that neither of the boys had called out to identify themselves to her.
In a flash, Snow thought of all the horrible possibilities awaiting her on the other side of the door – things she never dared entertain in her thoughts before – until a low but kindly voice called to her from the other side.
“Hello? Is anyone there? We are seeking shelter from the storm.”
Snow bit at her lip in indecision. Finally, she called back, “Who is there?”
For a moment, no sound made its way over the storm and Snow thought the person had given up and gone away, but then the voice came again.
“'Tis naught but myself and my...son. Please, Miss. I am an old beggar with older bones and like to catch my death from the cold.”
Snow pressed her ear to the door and heard a muffled cough. She had promised the boys she would let no one inside, but really, she thought. What harm could come from offering to share the room and the warmth of a fire with a timid, elderly soul in weather so foul?
Her decision made, Snow slid the bolt aside and slowly opened the door.
* * *
Edward motioned the other boys to silence and pointed upward, giving the signal to move into the trees. From a lofty perch, they would be able to see the forest below while escaping the notice of the rider making his way through the trees.
After a hasty scramble, the boys were climbing, scaling the damp but rough bark of several pines while Edward crept around behind the trunk of a thick oak tree to wait. Knife in one hand and a heavy rock in the other, he crouched low, ready to spring the moment the rider appeared.
Lightning bolted across the sky, illuminating the area and the approaching man on horseback. Anthony recognized him before he was close enough for Edward to see.
“It's Simon!” he called from the treetops.
Almost shaking with relief, Edward stood up and moved out from behind the tree where he had been hiding in wait, dashing the rain from his eyes with the back of his hand.
Simon reigned the animal up not two paces from him, and snapped, “Where are the others? I told you not to leave them.”
Stiffening in embarrassment at being so upbraided by their leader, Edward said, “We were searching for you. The lady said-”
“The lady? Where is Lady Sonoria? You brought her out in this weather?”
Anthony had scrambled back down the tall pine, and hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Of course not, you dolt. She's waiting for us at the cottage.”
“Alone?”
Edward nodded, but his stomach was already knotting with dread before Simon hissed a curse between clenched teeth. “They're already in the forest, Edward. The lady and the killer she hired. We have to hurry and pray like the devil we get there first. Come on!”
“Pray like the devil?” From the lower branches of an oak tree, Derrick slid to the ground and giggled nervously. “'xactly 'ow does ol' Lucifer pray, Simon?”
Chapter Nine
Out of the kindness of her heart, and against both her better judgment and the promise she had made the boys, Snow opened the door to the beggar woman and her son - only to discover her stepmother waiting upon the stoop.
“My, my. What an...unexpected surprise.” Davina's trill of mocking laughter followed her through the opened doorway and into the cottage.
“Lady Davina! Whatever are you doing here?” Snow asked, her hand going to her throat in shock, she started to back slowly away from the door and toward the fire. Simon's revelation that her stepmother planned to have her killed filled her thoughts, and Snow's entire body began to tremble with fear.
Cautious, she watched while her stepmother removed her drenched cloak and tossed it carelessly over the chair where Snow's bundle of sewing lay.
“Here?” She spread her hands wide to encompass the room. “Do you mean in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, in the middle of a ferocious storm, Sonoria?”
She waved a hand toward the fellow waiting just inside the door, motioning him closer. He closed the door, slid the bolt, and then crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.
“Or perhaps you meant to ask why I have come to some filthy hunter's cottage hidden in the depths of the forest where no one would ever think to find me?”
Holding her hands out to warm them by the fire, she glared at Snow through narrowed eyes and said, “One could ask the same of you, my dear.”
“I-I was lost. And someone rescued me. They brought me here but I wanted to come home. I wanted to come home, and...”
“Lost? How droll.” Her mocking laughter filled the room yet again. “Did you hear her, Nathaniel? She is lost.”
The fellow grinned at her choice of words, but Snow could not discern the humor until he said, “Lost can be arranged, yer ladyship. 'specially in these woods.”
Davina smiled, a cold smile, and nodded. “How convenient. However, before this kind gentleman ensures that you are, indeed, lost for good, I shall have the heart, Sonoria.”
Nathaniel came forward and Snow rounded the chair opposite hers, putting it between herself and the woman who was her stepmother and herself between it and the door to the cottage. “Heart? I don't understand...”
Her stepmother rolled her eyes heavenward and then pointed to Snow. “The locket, Sonoria. The one your father gave you that you wear on a chain around your neck morning and night.”
Snow's hand slid upward to clutch the locket tight in her palm and her stepmother nodded. “Yes, that heart. I see that you understand.”
“B-but the locket was a gift, Lady Davina, from my father. It is all that I have left of him.”
“Not quite,” Davina offered, inspecting her nails. “You see, the locket is a bit more than it at first seems, my dear. In truth, it is a key – a very special key. It unlocks the old jewelry cask your father kept in his study. Know you this?”
Snow shook her head in denial, but she could see her stepmother had read the truth in her eyes. From the corner o
f her eye, Snow watched as the man, Nathaniel edged closer around the chair, and she stepped back again the same instant he lunged forward.
She screamed and ran in the other direction – right into her stepmother, who grabbed her close and held tight. “Nathaniel, get the rag!”
Snow fought against the older woman's hold, but there was nothing she could do to fight the effect of the ether-soaked cloth when Nathaniel came up behind her and held it against her nose and mouth.
The room went dark around her and the last thing she remembered seeing was the large, evilly distorted smile of triumph on her stepmother's face.
* * *
Simon rode hard for the cottage, desperation fueling his flight. If the lady's stepmother made it to Snow before he did, the boss would likely flay him alive, but the reason for his sudden sense of urgency owed to far more than that. Somehow, he had come to like the lady. A lot. And for that reason, he did not wish to see her hurt.
Dismounting before the stoop, he noticed footprints in the mud. Ignoring the door altogether, Simon flung himself instead, through the old shutters covering the window, and crashing into the room he and his comrades had shared for nigh onto a year now, Simon leapt immediately to his feet, ready to do battle.
The lady and her hired killer were tearing at the bolt across the front door, frantic to escape, but Snow was nowhere to be seen. “What have you done with her?”
He charged deeper into the room, and the sight which met his eyes almost drew him to his knees. Snow had crumpled to the floor to lay, still and unmoving, on the rug before the fire.
Simon rushed to her side and leaned down to feel for a pulse, a breath, anything to let him know she was yet alive, but there was nothing.
A horrible angst rose up inside him and he had to clamp his jaw down tight to keep from crying his pain aloud to the night.
Looking down at Snow through tear-filled eyes, Simon noticed that something else was out of place. Something was missing.
In the same instant, he realized what the lady's stepmother had taken from her, what she had come for, and killed for.
The chain was gone.
The chain Snow had held tight to every time she had thought of home.
Simon scrambled to his feet and ran back out into the storm.
Unlike her hired killer, the lady had gone straight for Simon's horse and was even now struggling to lift herself onto the mare's broad back. Simon dove off the stoop at the precise instant she found purchase.
She hefted herself onto the animal and kicked her heels. The enraged beast screamed out in anger and immediately reared on its hind legs before tearing off through the forest at a breakneck pace.
Blinded by the rain and his tears, Simon followed, slipping in the mud and tangling his feet in roots and underbrush alike he pressed on, determined the lady would not escape with her prize.
Chapter Ten
By the time Geoffrey rode into the clearing surrounding his father's old hunting lodge, the storm had quieted and the rain slowed to nothing more than a cold drizzle.
He leaped from his stallion and raced up the steps, only to skid to a halt when the rest of the boys met him at the stoop, their faces ashen.
Not one word was spoken and, one by one, they filed back into the cottage to kneel beside the bed where they had placed Snow's body. Solemnly, they bowed their heads to hide the tears coursing down their cheeks.
Finally, little Derrick looked up from his position beside Snow's head, a soul-deep sadness reflected in the depths of his eyes, and Geoff's heart flip-flopped in his chest.
“She is dead, sir.”
Rushing to her side, Geoff knelt upon the mattress and lifted her up into the cradle of his arms. “No, she cannot be dead.”
Gently, he patted her ashen cheek and called out her name. “Lady Sonoria, wake up,” he commanded, but she made no response.
“I am so sorry, sir,” Edward said, tears choking off each of his words. “We should never have left her alone.”
The words barely registered in Geoff's thoughts as he looked at the woman before him, so still and so pale. He smoothed back a softly curling chocolate tendril from her face and cradled her cheek in his palm. “Snow? Snow, you cannot be dead. How can I ask you to marry me if you are gone?”
Still, she did not move, and after long, tense seconds spent cradling her close while whispering to her, pleading for her to awaken and seeing no response, no sign of life, Geoff leaned down and pressed his lips to hers for a bittersweet kiss of farewell.
“Lord Kelsing?”
Her lips moved, whispering the name against his, and he lifted his head in surprise. Her lashes fluttered and slowly, Snow opened her eyes. She lifted her hand to his cheek, her eyes searching his.
“It is you,” she declared in a tone of wonderment. “How did you ever find me?”
Geoffrey smiled and laid her back against the pillow. “Welcome back, Snow. We missed you.”
A chorus of happy cheers sounded all around and, raising herself on her elbows, Snow looked from one tear-stained face to the next and frowned, confused. “What happened?”
It was Anthony who related the tale from his point of view. They had gone off to find Simon, exactly as she had bid, and they had found him, he explained.
They met Simon in the forest, but when he learned they had left her alone at the cottage, he had raced ahead to protect her from her stepmother and her evil plans, but he hadn't made it and they had thought her dead.
At the mention of her stepmother, Snow lifted her hand to her throat, searching.
“My locket,” she said. “It's gone.”
Geoff was confused. “Locket?”
Getting to her feet, Snow started for the door. “Yes. It was the locket she wanted, you see. It was shaped like a heart, but open, it became a key to unlock the chest which holds my dowry.”
She stopped at the open door and turned back to scan the room. “Boys, where is Simon?”
“Here,” came a voice from the doorway. All eyes turned toward him as he limped into the room.
“Your stepmother is dead, my lady. She fell from the horse in her haste to escape and I could not save her,” he said. “But I did manage to retrieve this.”
He held up his hand and dangling from his fingers on a tiny golden chain was Snow's locket. Her eyes filled with happy tears.
“Oh, Simon!” She took the chain from him and waited while Geoff fastened it back into place. Then, she caught Simon's hand and, pulling him close, leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He ducked his head to hide his embarrassment, but after a moment, he shrugged and said, “I see you've met the boss.”
While Snow worked out the connection in her mind slowly, Derrick's eyes widened. “Ye mean yer Geoff and our Geoff is the same one?”
He thought the matter over for a moment and then nodded. “'twere the only way, I s'ppose.”
Lord Geoffrey Aldecotte, titled Marquess Kelsing and heir to a dukedom he hoped he would not gain for at least another lifetime, arched a brow in question and asked, “What is the only way?”
The boy hitched his thumb over his shoulder, motioning to Snow and said, “The lady said her Geoff was the kindest, gentlest, handsomest Geoff ever, but I knew you was the only one. Turns out I were right!”
The boys near collapsed with laughter, but Geoff reached out to tilt Snow's chin upward so he could look into her eyes when he asked, “The only one, eh? Is it possible, Snow?”
She smiled and looped her arms around his neck. “With this band of rogues, anything is possible.”
Dancing On Glass
Once upon a time...
Maxwell Denning, the 4th duke of Rothminster held a grand ball at which he planned to choose a bride - his future duchess - but he never meant to fall in love...
Arielle Tremaine was not a lady. Nor was she a member of the aristocracy, and most especially not a royal princess - visiting or otherwise - although she does feel like one in the ou
tfit Max purchases for her to wear to the ball.
The lovely gown and uniquely crafted slippers are meant as a disguise to fool the masses so that Arielle can help him choose his bride without being looked down upon due to her lack of social stature, but for Max, it becomes a stunning source of enlightenment instead.
While Max tries to come to terms with his newly discovered feelings, Arielle does her best to do only what he has asked of her - help him choose the most suitable duchess - and then she will be free to go on with the rest of her life...without him. The problem is, envisioning her life without Max in it feels very much like dancing on broken glass...
Chapter One
“Max, are you paying attention? There will be at least six hundred guests in attendance, three hundred of which will be young, unmarried, and eager to snatch up the title of duchess. You will want to engage as many of the eligible female guests as possible on the first night.”
Maxwell Denning, 4th duke of Rothminster looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Engage? I rather thought to choose a handful I find most attractive and let you tell me which of those are most suited to the role of duchess.”
Arielle rolled her eyes. The sad bit of his comment was he quite likely thought it a brilliant idea to allow someone else to do the choosing for him. “I cannot choose your bride for you, Max. If you will only recall for a moment, you will realize I won't be attending your bride-finding ball. Besides, I've nothing to wear,” she teased.
“If you spent more time being a member of the family rather than trying to earn your keep...” he started, replaying a familiar argument between them, one she had stopped trying to convince him was incorrect, although they both knew it. An orphan existing solely due to the soft-heart and good nature of his mother, the duchess, Arielle Tremaine knew more than anyone she was not a member of his family.
Fancytales: The Once Upon A Time Collection Page 7