Fancytales: The Once Upon A Time Collection

by Leighann Dobbs

  Dare she try to save him from the madness that consumes him, or will the demons he fights each night prove too strong for any to defeat? Either way, Jane knows she must somehow find the courage to confront the beast of Edenmaine...

  Chapter One

  She descended the stairs slowly, her steps not so much measured as they were relaxed and graceful while her slender, glove-encased palms rested on the warm oak of the banister, her fingers lightly caressing the wood as she made her descent.

  He immediately imagined those fingers caressing his unclothed body, circling here, smoothing there, clenching someplace else while his lips tortured her with kisses expertly plied along the exposed length of her neck, his teeth pausing to nibble where the cascading length of her silver and diamond earrings brushed against her pulse on her neck.

  Red and gold tresses curled in a fiery mass at the crown of her head, with but a few tendrils spilling down at her forehead and temples to frame her oval-shaped and delicately curved face. Her skin glowed radiantly, a warm cream in the soft shadows where she stood near the turn of the stairs and, like an half-starved cat, he wanted to lick it, to lap at it with his tongue, to savor the sweetness...

  Desire slammed into his gut, so fierce and unexpected he almost groaned aloud from the force of it. His brows pulled together in a frown but he could not look away from the tantalizing image slowly making her way toward the overly crowded ballroom.

  Her high cheekbones accented a pair of sparkling, curious, vibrant green eyes while giving place to the fine edge of her slender nose, perfectly centered above glistening lips which had recently been moistened and now held evidence of a slightly suppressed, equally surprised and somewhat humor-laced smile.

  He wanted to touch her mouth, to taste it, to feel the tremor of her laughter against his tongue, to swallow the melody of it even as he coaxed from her lips a new, less innocent but much more evocative sound.

  The white silk of her caped gown shimmered and flowed in the light while the luxurious trains of both trailed teasingly behind her with every gliding step. The exquisitely beguiling material clung to the proud jut of her breasts, the natural curve of her tiny waist and the gentle slope of her softly rounded hips and, recklessly, he wanted to enfold himself in it, in her. He wanted to be surrounded by nothing but the womanly scent of her. The passionate heat of her. The essence of an exquisite, flawlessly formed woman. His heart pounded within his chest and his breathing slowed while his blood rushed hot and furious through his body.

  Her effect on him was astounding. Never before had simply looking at a woman caused such a rush of unmitigated passion, the utter physical demand of his body to take, to possess, and to hold against all odds to permeate him as watching her slow, casual descent was doing to him now.

  She was the most perfect-looking female he had ever seen – and in ten seconds more, every eligible male in the room (not to mention the ineligible and the immensely unsuitable but nonetheless interested) would freeze in stunned agreement a mere breath before they rushed forth in unison toward the foot of the marquess's grand staircase, each bent upon claiming the stunningly beautiful lady for themselves – at which time he knew she would become lost to him forever.

  His gaze flew upward to lock with hers and he saw her eyes widen slightly, watched the sparkle in her gaze leap and grow within the viridian depths and the sudden, foul stream of whispered yet ear-blistering obscenities pouring from his lips caused the newly married woman at his side to pale, her lips murmuring a stuttered gasp that was his name in shocked response, but Grayson did not care.

  He had less than eight seconds left to make a choice and take action before the remaining males in attendance took the matter out of his hands and swept the beautiful lady far, far out of his reach - an act he found he could not, would not tolerate.

  With neither warning nor polite excuse to the woman at his side, nor thought as to what dire and dreadful consequence his actions might bring down upon the object of his intent, Grayson marched forward through the crowd to meet her as she reached the last step.

  Her feet had no sooner touched the expensive, marbled floor than his hands caught her by the waist. His arms enfolded her, swept her into his embrace and his lips crushed down upon hers without warning, his kiss demanding, devouring and, by turns, tempting. Exploring. Teasing. Soothing.

  An audible, collective gasp resounded within the ballroom, but Grayson was oblivious, caught as he was in the dangerous grip of enchantment and a possessive kind of passion so fierce he had never before known the like; an unexpected, raging desire first fired and then fueled by the surprising, though tentative yet very much desired and fully encouraged response of the young woman in his arms.

  “You are a dead man, Edenmaine. I will kill you for this. Name your seconds.”

  The icy chill of bone-deep hatred lacing those angry, hissed words somehow managed to cool the hot, thunderous rush of blood thrumming through his veins. Suddenly conscious of his surroundings and the unified, scandalized gazes of the three hundred guests attending tonight's festivities boring into his back, Grayson clutched the lady close as if to shield her from the criticism in those stares and reluctantly lifted his head. “You mean I am not yet dead? Alas, when I saw this angel descending into the mortal realm, I felt certain my demise was consummate.”

  “When my bullet pierces your thick skull, Edenmaine,it will not be angels you see but rather a horde of vicious demons rejoicing at the chance to terrorize your heartless, black soul for all eternity – and welcome they are to it,” his unwanted companion spat.

  Grayson ignored the irate fellow, his eyes caught by the flash of anxiety in the luscious green of his companion's gaze. She was worried but, he wondered, precisely where had she directed her concern? Did she have a care for the furiously voiced threat against him, issued in a hissed whisper at their side or were her cares centered more self-ward? His eyes never leaving hers, he chuckled. “Terrorize my soul? Puny demons. One has more to fear from jealous husbands and vengeful lovers. Which are you, Penwray?”

  The delightful bundle of warmth in his arms wriggled, demanding freedom though she did allow him to somewhat maintain his claim on her by not shrugging away his hand which rested lightly above her hip. Still, Grayson caught her hand and tucked it beneath his own, somewhat possessively, at the bend of his arm. He would not allow her to flee should the appropriateness of such a notion suddenly strike her.

  “He is neither, I am afraid,” his suddenly reluctant captive confided in a low voice. “My lord, this is my father.”

  Chapter Two

  Countess Edenmaine was the only title in all the realm which had stood readily available and yet had remained coldly uncoveted – by both debutante and spinster alike – for nigh onto half a decade.

  Indeed, thoughts of attaining it seemed to have been completely quashed by the marriage-minded mamas of the ton and even those concerned fathers who betimes took a hand in arranging desirable matches for their marriageable offspring. Not one of them dared entertain the possibility of snaring the earldom through their daughters into consideration because no parent would wish such an truly horrifying fate upon their child – not even those facing dire and desperate straits. And their daughters?

  Jane shuddered.

  No one wanted to marry the beast, and yet...

  After having been most publicly compromised by the earl's fiery, scandalous kiss, a kiss which had left her ruined with no hope of redemption in the eyes of society, Lady Jane Cerrigwyn stood alone in a small antechamber near the rear of the Roxburge family chapel but a moment away from claiming that self-same title as her own.

  Two weeks had passed since the night she had stood looking out across an overflowing ballroom, still very much dazed by the earl's impulsive but ruinous kiss, to where three hundred pairs of eyes stared back at her, their expressions ranging from utterly shocked, to mildly stunned, to affronted or otherwise completely scandalized.

  The many mirrored expressions on the fac
es of society's finest had left little room for doubt in Jane's mind as to how appalled they all were by the spectacle she and the earl had created and her befuddled mind could conceive no immediate, graceful path of escape. Still, in as dire of straits as the situation had landed her, even she had not contemplated marriage to the earl.

  No, it had been Lady Amelia, the earl's sister and newly wed marchioness of Roxburge, who had stepped up in an attempt to save the day – and Jane's reputation - by happily pronouncing her brother's betrothal the best kept secret in all of London...until Grayson, in his impatience, had spoiled it all with a kiss.

  The vivacious marchioness had gone on and on about how obvious it was that her brother and Jane's attachment was a love match until, certain at least a few of her hostess's guests were willing to give her story the benefit of a doubt, she had promptly whisked both Jane and her brother from beneath the ton's ever watchful eyes. Sequestering Jane away with her at the marquess's townhouse, she had sent her brother off to the Edenmaine country estate to wait while a special license could be procured.

  Had it not been for Lady Amelia's quick thinking and industrious maneuvering, Jane knew her husband-to-be would long since have faced her father over a well primed set of dueling pistols, but somehow Lady Amelia had soothed even him. However, convincing Jane herself of the merits of marrying the beast had been quite another matter entirely.

  At the time, marrying the mysterious earl of Edenmaine had seemed to Jane both an insane fantasy and a hideously preposterous idea, one she had been certain would never come to fruition. Now, faced with the full, imminent reality of it, Jane's knees threatened to buckle beneath her.

  Quietly waiting for the moment when her father would arrive to escort her down the short aisle to the earl's side – where she would be expected to forever after stand – the mere thought of what she was about to do set Jane fair a-tremble. But when the door to the small room opened behind her and Lord Arthur Cerrigwyn, Baron Penwray, peered inside at the youngest of his six daughters with an expression of abject misery distorting his care-worn face, Jane tamped down her fears to greet him with a tremulous smile.

  “How beautiful you look, my Jane. More lovely than any of your sisters on their wedding day, I must say,” he offered, yet Jane could see tears brimming in his tired eyes. She looked quickly away lest her own start to fill. She dared not let on about her anxieties to her father. Better he think she was a bride most willing than for him to know exactly how frightened the thought of forever pledging herself to the beast of Edenmaine made her feel.

  He must have mistook her gesture for a refusal to face him because, after a moment of silence during which Jane hastily blinked back tears, he said, “I-I do apologize for this farce, this...tragedy, dearest, but there is simply no recourse.”

  Jane shushed him with a wave and quick shake of her head.

  “None of that Father, please. Today is my wedding day. Let us make the best of it.” The last thing she wanted at this point was for her father to reconsider his agreement with the earl and seek out his original course of action in its stead.

  With one last fond look, the baron gave her a quick, consoling pat on the top of her gloved hand before leading her out of the small room and down the carpeted aisle, at the end of which the beast calmly awaited their approach.

  A second son and the eighth earl of Edenmaine, Grayson Burke looked quite dashing in his wedding finery, Jane admitted to herself. And truth to tell, England's collective abhorrence of the earl had naught at all to do with his appearance. Outwardly, he was magnificent in every way which counted, from the dark hair crowning his head – including the lock which even now rakishly fell across his brow – to his fashionably shod feet, Edenmaine was physically all a lady could hope to attain and more.

  Indeed, during the past fortnight, Lady Amelia had taken great delight in regaling her with stories about her once delightfully rakish and charming brother and how it was rumored a single glance from his brilliantly lit blue eyes could fair make a woman burn.

  After the fate-sealing scandalous kiss the earl had given her, Jane had little doubt that particular rumor was true. From the instant she had come into view of the ballroom that fateful night not so long ago, she had felt his gaze, hot and wanton, like she would imagine a lover's touch to be and it had caressed her.

  His eyes had certainly burned into hers, but his kiss – oh, his kiss! Never before had she felt anything quite like it. With his arms around her, holding her while his lips and tongue had teased and tasted, Jane had known immediately the earl's actions would prove to be catastrophic, and yet she had been quite helpless, lost, even to herself, drowning in a sea of newly awakening passion and desire until her father's furious words had cut through the spell the earl had woven so expertly over her. Yes, she had quite enjoyed the kissing part of this terrible tragedy, without doubt. But, at the moment, it was neither the earl's kisses nor his sister's impishly betraying stories about his once philandering ways which concerned Jane most...

  Chapter Three

  Edenmaine.

  The lair of the beast.

  The sprawling stone and timber manse rose high, stretching majestically across a broad expanse of well-tended land, a breathtakingly regal vision which seemed at once stately and austere to Jane. From her vantage point through the window of the carriage bringing her ever nearer to her new home, the newly wedded Countess of Edenmaine felt a brief moment of pride before a whispering chill of foreboding all but ruined the budding pleasure of her arrival as the conveyance drew near.

  “Welcome to your new home, Countess.”

  Grayson's low voice broke the silence inside the carriage, drawing her gaze to him, and Jane answered with a hesitant smile.

  Home? Jane knew it was his home, yes, but she also realized the Burke family seat, located here in the heart of Edenmaine, was also the place where her new husband had been shut away from society for so long. To convalesce after the death of the previous earl, if she correctly recalled.

  For five long years Grayson had been sequestered away, years during which no one – or at least no one outside immediate family, if rumor held true – had been allowed to see him. Her new husband might well have been forgotten, Jane thought, because his family had said nothing more in all those years, other than that he was recuperating and would soon rejoin them in London. The intensity of his grief had been given as an explanation for his extended absence, yet the lurid, horrific stories bandied about every parlor in London throughout those years said otherwise.

  Some claimed that, with the coming of darkness, the earl physically and supernaturally transformed into an awkwardly bent and twisted, howling and ravenous beast. Others swore the mysterious powers lurking within the silvery shafts of moonlight had affected his mind, causing the earl to lose touch with reality, to embrace the insanity of madness. Still others vowed her new husband spent his nights locked in irons, chained like an animal to prevent him from wreaking havoc upon all that stood within his wake, and belatedly, Jane realized she had no inkling of which tale, if either, bespoke the truth.

  Certainly she did not believe the earl changed form. Such tales were grossly farfetched and clearly the fabrication of an evil mind. Still, there was no denying the earl's family had kept him hidden away from society for a very long time and for a man in his position with his wealth and the accompanying stature lent by such, there simply must have been a deeper, completely logical though perhaps much more frightening explanation for keeping him out of the public eye for so long.

  “Are you mad, my lord?” she blurted, and then stared at him, open-mouthed, in horrified shock at her own ill-mannered brazenness.

  The slight narrowing of his eyes in response to her question did not go unnoticed by his skittish new bride. “You are given to listening to gossip, are you?”

  Not surprisingly, her chin went up and her gaze boldly met his. “Is it gossip?”

  Grayson wished he could firmly discount the rumors circulating about him b
ut knew, in all honesty, he could not. “If you are concerned some mental infirmity might be passed along to our children, you may calm your fears, Jane. No such madness taints me.”

  That much, at least, was true, he silently pointed out to console his conscience. Still, he found himself selfishly longing for times past, for those days gone by wherein life and he himself had been normal.

  Once, he had been touted a scoundrel and a bit of a bounder, a cad and a rake, all owing to his easy charm and finesse with the ladies – and he certainly had used it to his advantage. From the day he had reached his majority right up until the night his older brother, Vincent, had died, Grayson had fully enjoyed the life of a libertine. But the fire...

  Shaking himself out of the unwanted reverie, Grayson focused again upon Jane. She was so beautiful, any man would have to be insane to not desire her, and she was his. His wife. His chest swelled with pride until his conscience pricked him by adding “bride of the beast,” and his gaze shuttered once more.

  He could see by her expression the answer he had given clearly was not as reassuring as she might have hoped, but for now, it was the best he could offer. The carriage had drawn up before the wide entrance and, relieved to have an escape from the sudden barrage of questions spilling into her gaze, Grayson hurried to open the door and stepped down to assist her from the conveyance. He had a much more enjoyable past-time in mind for their wedding night and it did not include her interrogation of him. But, alas, his plans would have to wait.

  Jane's required introduction to the few members of staff he retained at Edenmaine was followed by their sharing of a light repast before Eadith, his housekeeper, proudly led his new countess from room to room on a full tour of the manor.