He wondered if she would connect her brother's absence with his own over the past several days and understand the true reason he had not called on her after their kiss.
She did, and her eyes went wide. “So that is why you did not--”
His suddenly flat, emotionless stare shocked her into silence. Prudently, she managed to hastily clamp her lips together before her words revealed more than they should.
Henry, however, arched a pertinent, questioning brow. “Did not – what?”
“Visit, of course. But he was obviously too busy looking for whomever sent our poor Andrew to his quilts, weren't you?” she improvised, turning back to him with a quick, brilliant smile. “I cannot thank you enough, Simeon. Your concern for my brother's safety is quite endearing.”
Henry scoffed at her sugary tone. “Had you as much concern for your poor brother, you might have realized what he discov...”
“That is quite enough,” Simeon interjected, fully aware of their father's presence beyond the open door across the way. “Will you and your brother be joining us this afternoon, or should Helena bring her maid along as chaperone?”
Neither made much difference, as far as Simeon was concerned, however, for he knew he would be doing nothing more than he was doing right now – counting down the minutes until darkness fell and he could join Helena once more for a kiss in the moonlight.
* * *
Throughout the afternoon, Helena could not seem to stop looking at Simeon only, for the first time since he had announced he had come to collect her as his bride, she saw him in a different light.
Not that he had changed, or even that she had, but standing by his side while they admired the artists renderings and sculptures inside the museum, Helena realized she was seeing him as if he were truly hers... the choice of her heart rather than the man who decided she would be his and did what he had to do to make it happen.
Of course Simeon had done just that, but he had been willing to walk away, for her. Knowing her happiness mattered to him, even if it meant she would not be his, made her feel all warm inside.
Was it love she felt for him after all, after so short a time?
Helena was not sure, but watching him watch her while her brothers weren't looking, she thought it could be. What else could make her feel so alive?
He smiled at her and she felt as if she were floating on air. His eyes went dark and her pulse thundered. With one touch, her skin heated and she could think of nothing she would like better than to melt into his embrace and stay there forever.
This morning, when he had told her he was there to surrender, she had felt winded, the same as she had when she was six and had just fallen off her pony after it jumped the low hedge at Blackthorpe.
Suddenly, the thought of Simeon walking out of her life left her feeling cold, bereft, and she had realized his leaving was the one the thing she did not want.
But, her heart warned, if she did not yet love him, were these new feelings she was experiencing for him enough to sustain her until love could grow in their place?
His hand caught hers, his fingers twining between her own and Helena glanced up, a shy smile turning her lips upward until what she saw in his eyes took her breath away. Rather than looking at the carefully arranged paintings in appreciation of their beauty as the other patrons (including Henry and Andrew) were doing, Simeon was staring at her. But it was the way he was looking at her that made Helena's knees go weak.
His eyes held a fierce gleam of satisfaction and pride, much as a master artisan might to behold his very own magnum opus, his great work, and Helena suddenly felt unworthy of his visual praise.
She looked away, and he gave her fingers a little squeeze before lifting her gloved hand to his lips to brush a quick kiss across her knuckles. He did not release her hand, but instead tucked it into the curve of his arm before searching the crowd for her brothers. “I think it is time to leave.”
Helena thought of the coming night, of the moment when he would once again join her in the moonlight and her pulse tripped.
Yes, it was definitely time to go, she thought, as skittish excitement set her pulse to racing while her insides anxiously danced in eager anticipation of what was to come.
Chapter Ten
Helena had taken great care preparing for this evening. First, she had worried over which dressing gown she should wear over the simple night rail her maid had laid out for her. If he had found her first kiss to be prim and childish, he was sure to find fault with her wardrobe. But since nothing in her armoire seemed fitting for an evening's indulgence filled with forbidden, passionate kisses from a man like Prince Simeon, she had decided to hide the serviceable but inelegant night rail beneath a deep blue satin dressing gown.
The royal blue material had been shot through with silver thread at the frothy lace cuffs and hem and Helena chose it because it reminded her of the midnight sky which had been lit by shining tendrils of moonlight during their one shared moment of passion.
She had brushed the long length of her hair until it shown and glistened in the low light of the lamps turned low for the evening, and then she had tied the whole of it back simply with a ribbon, leaving the greatest mass to trail down her back.
Finally, she had daubed a drop of her favorite scent against her nape, wrists, and in the valley between her breasts, all of the places where her pulse insistently throbbed every time she thought of Simeon and the fact that soon she would be in his arms.
Her toilette complete, Helena ensconced herself on the chaise at the foot of her bed and tried to settle in with a book until her prince made his promised appearance, but skittish anticipation kept drawing her to the window.
Placed her book carefully aside, Helena went to stand before her unlocked window, listening for any sound or disturbance that would signal Simeon's arrival. Silence met her ears, just as it had for the past two and a half hours – hours during which her thoughts had wavered between eager anticipation of the kisses they would share and an unreasonable fear he would not come at all.
What had he done to her?
How was it possible that, over the course of a mere handful days, Simeon had managed to so completely take the place of all others in her thoughts? She shook her head in wry wonder.
Before his arrival, Helena had been quite certain no other man but Evan would do for her and yet, when she had danced with him at the Daggleby function – twice, in fact, as she had pointed out to Simeon in her jealousy – she had found his company to be only mildly pleasant and even somewhat distracting while the whole of her thoughts had been firmly centered on Simeon.
Pacing the short length of space between her bed and the window, Helena glanced over at the gilt clock resting in the center of the intricately carved mantle.
Midnight.
Feeling more uncertain in that one moment than she had felt in her entire life, Helena gathered the loose edges of her wrapper and pulled it tight. Crossing her arms around her middle, she leaned her head against the windowsill while her thoughts spun in a frantic, chaotic whirl.
Had he chosen another with which to spend his time? To share his kisses? A woman who knew well and good the sort of kiss a man such as would crave? The memory of Melisande, smiling into his eyes as she danced by in Simeon's arms rose up to plague her and the sharp pang of jealousy stung deep once more.
She closed her eyes, her pacing halted for the moment, and expelled a pained, exasperated breath while willing the unkind thoughts against her friend away even as a sense of loss weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach.
Her pacing resumed.
Bed to window to bed and back again Helena walked until her steps began to drag and her eyelids grew heavy, and still Simeon did not come.
Where was he?
The book he had given her lay nestled amongst her favorites on the table beside the chaise and Helena walked over from the window to pick it up, caressing the leather binding with her hands as she might have touched him had he bothered to
show tonight. She had, in fact, imagined doing so many times during the past few hours, wondering at what his reaction might be, but now...
Disappointment knifed through her. Clearly, he was not coming.
Her gaze slid longingly toward the unlocked window one last time before she bent to turn down the lamp on the table nearest the chaise, her thoughts clinging to the last vestiges of hope he might come to her still.
* * *
In the shadows outside her balcony window, Simeon drew in a breath and lifted his hand almost hesitantly to test the latch. It gave easily and his pent up breath escaped in a quick sigh of relief an instant before a wry grin spread across his lips.
He had waited beneath her balcony for hours, waiting for her to turn down the lights and slip the catch on the window but now it seemed he had waited for naught. Her window had been open to him the entire time.
Lifting the latch, he slipped quietly through the tall opening into her bedchamber. He saw her immediately, standing near the foot of her bed, her face framed by the soft glow of the lamp light.
“Helena...” he breathed, his voice low. He did not wish to startle her, but still her head jerked in his direction and her knees seemed to fail her because she slowly lowered herself to sit on the very edge of a low chaise, her hands folded demurely in her lap.
“Simeon! Oh, you are here! I-I spent hours worrying over my appearance and more still pacing before a scandalously unlatched window, Your Highness, until finally, I decided you were not going to come to me after all. I-I was afraid you had finally taken my rebuffs to heart and turned your interests elsewhere.”
Grinning, he quickly secured the window behind him before making his way across the room to her. “Would it have mattered so much to you if I had? You have exerted every effort to put me off pursuing your affections, after all. Are you saying you have experienced a change of mind?”
Her burst of wry laughter seemed choked, as if it had forced its way up and around something lodged in her throat. “I believe it is more a change of heart. Simeon-” she started and then broke off, shaking her head.
“I don't know what has happened to me, or precisely what has changed in here, but-” She pressed her palm against her heart. “I think I have fallen for you after all.”
Lifting her chin until her clear gaze caught and held his, she asked, “Will you kiss me again?”
Taking her by the hand, Simeon pulled her to her feet and into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and brushed a quick, fleeting kiss against her lips before he leaned close until his forehead touched hers.
“Yes, I most definitely will. Every day for the rest of our lives, Princess,” he promised.
Epilogue
Kozla, two years later...
Her Royal Highness, Princess Sabrienna Helen Michelle Pietroc looked very much like her handsome father, Helena thought as she leaned over the cradle to carefully tuck the blankets around her sleeping daughter.
Quietly tiptoeing from the room, she made her way to the vast library across from Simeon's study to find something to read while she waited for him to join her for dinner.
She wandered around the room, her fingers skimming shelf after shelf, filled with more volumes than she would ever manage to read in three lifetimes though she made a valiant effort each day.
Her gaze caught on the volume of Kozlavian history Simeon had gifted her during their betrothal and she tugged it from its place among the ranks of treasured editions with a smile. Someday, she would give it to her daughter, she knew, just as Simeon's mother had given it to him and then he had passed it on to her as his chosen bride.
Feeling a bit whimsical, Helena crossed to the escritoire. Grinning, she took up a pen and on the inside cover, she wrote:
My dearest Sabrienna,
If ever you should find yourself a most reluctant princess, do not hesitate to kiss the frog for, where and when you least expect it, something magical often occurs.
...and it was magical, her deep, profound love for Simeon. He was her own special frog prince and he had indeed won her heart with a kiss.
Sleeping Heiress
Once Upon A Time...
...the heir to an earldom fell in love with a wealthy merchant's daughter who was betrothed to marry a prince.
The girl's father, wanting no unhappiness to shadow his daughter's wedding, persuaded the future earl to leave the country -- but soon thereafter, his beautiful daughter fell into a deep, mysterious slumber from which not even the country's finest doctors could cause her to wake. Soon, tales began to make the rounds of a beautiful 'sleeping heiress', and for two long years she slept, until one day, at long last, the heir finally returned.
Though he had tried to forget the beauty he had left behind, the heir's heart had never swayed. But upon his return and after his discovery that his late father had left him with a destitute title and a besmirched family name, Ananias Quinn, third earl of Aventry, found himself quite suddenly in desperate need of a very wealthy bride.
As convenience would have it, the wealthy merchant had long ago endowed his beautiful daughter with a considerable marriage portion -- which, in a desperate about-face attempt he now promised to Ananias, if only Ananias could find a way to wake his precious, sleeping daughter...but how does one court a woman who has slept for two long years?
Join Ananias in his desperate quest to wake the lovely Lady Ebrielle in Leighann Dobbs latest Fancytales installment: SLEEPING HEIRESS - a quaint new romantic re-telling of the classic "Sleeping Beauty" tale you already know and love -- but with a bit of a Regency twist!
Chapter One
"Are you still in love with my daughter, Aventry?"
Ananias Quinn, third earl of Aventry, stared at his neighbor while his thoughts rambled in total chaos inside his head.
He was still trying to make sense of everything that had happened since his return.
First, his father's solicitor had arrived -- just this morning -- to explain the Aventry coffers were empty; bled dry by debts accrued due to his father's guilt-driven gambling in the months before his death. With Ananias out of the country, his father's solicitor had taken it upon himself to sell off the Aventry properties, one by one, in hopes of covering the appalling number of debts, but had managed only to relieve Ananias of his holdings, save two: the entailed estate in Kent and this, Avenleah Downes, his mother's dower property.
This morning he had learned, shamefully, that he was destitute and now, Charles de Clercy was in his study, once again asking about his feelings for Ebrielle -- much the same as he had done two years ago when the undesirability of which had been the very reason for his departure from England to begin with. "I fail to see what my feelings or lack thereof have to do with our current conversation, Charles. Two years ago you asked me to disappear, for Ebrielle's sake, and I did exactly as you wanted."
Charles looked uneasy, but he nodded.
"Yes, you did. And given that you've only just returned home, I must suppose you know nothing of what happened afterward?"
Ananias felt a sudden sick feeling in his gut. Had something happened to Ebrielle after he left? "I know what you told me was to happen, Charles. Ebrielle would wed the Russian prince to whom you had betrothed her without her knowledge, and she would then travel to Russia with him, where forever thereafter the two would live happily."
If there was a bit of a bitter edge to his tone, Charles did not make issue of it.
"The prince, Nikolai, returned to Russia alone. Once he learned the extent and severity of Ebrielle's condition, he decided she would not suit after all."
Still caught up in trying to sort the ramifications of his earlier conversation with his father's solicitor, a full moment passed before Ananias realized precisely what Charles had said, and once he did, both his attention and his pulse froze, sharpened, and then quickened in a bit of a double-take.
Ebrielle had not married the prince?
His first thoughts were to denounce the fellow as a stupid, blind f
ool if he had somehow mistakenly come to the conclusion that Ebrielle was lacking in any way. And then, the other part of Charles' words, those which held a much more ominous portent, came to the fore of his thoughts, striking like a blow. His wary gaze snapped up to lock with Charles's. "Condition? I am afraid I do not understand. Ebrielle was the very picture of health the day before I departed...."
She had presented an achingly beautiful vision of loveliness in the full bloom of her youth, in fact, and been so damned happy – right up until the moment he had told her he was going away. He feared he might never banish the hot sting from the river of quiet tears she had spent against his chest while he held her close, telling her it was for the best, his heart breaking along with hers all the while...
"I have been looking into private care for her. A doctor from St. Mary's was out just this morning...." Charles started.
If he said more, Ananias did not hear because anger, swift and hot, swept through him like a raging tide. "You will not send Ebrielle to the St. Mary's Bethlehem Hospital."
Charles settled back in his seat, a speculative and what appeared to be hopeful light in his eyes. "So you do care for her still?"
Uncomfortable with the personal bend of their conversation and more than a little irritated both by his ignorance of all that had transpired since his departure and the realization that one mention of Ebrielle was apparently all it took to set his heart to pining once more, even after all this time, he bit out, "As I would care for anyone threatened with the possibility of being sent to that accursed place. What has happened to her, Charles? What dreadful tragedy has befallen her? Explain to me this 'condition' your daughter seems to have mysteriously developed after my departure and why you believe, pray tell, any of this should concern me now?"
Fancytales: The Once Upon A Time Collection Page 19