Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws

by Youngblood, Jennifer

  Before she could finish, he went to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. “The best part, mi’ lady. The view.” He bowed slightly.

  “Oh, Edward,” she breathed, “’tis beautiful.”

  “I knew you would like it.”

  She took in the majestic snow-capped peaks in the distance, framed by a crystal blue sky and a smattering of wispy clouds. “’Tis magnificent,” she said. “Truly magnificent.”

  “I ordered it just for thee,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “After all, I am the crown prince.”

  She gave him a playful nudge. “It would seem that even the mountains obey thy command, sire.” She batted her eyelashes and put on her best maiden face.

  “Your eyes burn brighter than the stars in the heavens, and your lips are the color of rubies.” He touched her hair. “Flaxen gold,” he uttered. “I love you, Cinderella.” He searched her face, his eyes earnest. “I would have gone to the end of the earth to find you. We will be happy here.”

  There was a sense of pleading in his statement, and she knew he was waiting for her to validate it. “Aye,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “We will be happy here.”

  But they wouldn’t be happy—because no matter how hard she tried to forget about him, Rushton was always there. She retrieved the letter from the bodice of her dress and read it again. The words burned their way into her heart, and a single tear trickled down her cheek. For a long moment, she stared unseeingly into the flames. It would be so easy to toss the infernal letter into the fire, to pretend that she’d never gotten it. Yes, she loved Rushton, but what was done was done. She had an obligation to fulfill. Whether she liked it or not, her future was here, in this palace, with Edward. She would forget about Rushton, and he would eventually find someone else.

  Her eyes lifted to the painting, hanging over the mantel. It was a portrait of a young Queen Loreena, painted around the time of her arrival at the castle, shortly before her marriage to King Aalexander de Moncier. There was a mocking smile on her face that seemed to suggest that Cinderella would never measure up. Her picture had hung over the mantel all of these years, waiting for the time when the portrait of Edward’s fiancée would take its place. She jutted out her chin, leveling a glare at the cold eyes staring back at her. “Whether I like it or not, I am engaged to your son, and you will accept me into your world,” she said, the words giving her courage.

  Cinderella read the letter again. The words swirled around her, beckoning her into Rushton’s world as surely as the moon pulls the tides.

  My dearest Cinderella,

  I thought I could leave and never return, but alas, my broken heart needs closure—to look upon your face one final time before I resign myself to a lifetime without you. Meet me this night, behind the Chapel of Westwood, after the last evening bell has sounded. You must come, Cinderella. You owe me that much.

  Forever yours,

  Rushton

  She crumbled the letter in the palm of her hand. How could he put her in this position? If only Josselyn hadn’t given her the letter. An image of Ruston with his fierce blue eyes and ebony hair flittered through her mind. She saw his crooked smile, felt his hand, caressing her jaw. Her heart clutched. There was only one answer. She would go and meet him one final time. They both needed closure—closure to help them realize that they could never be together. Closure to help her realize that he would truly be out of her life and that she would never see him again! A blaring anger seized her as she thought about Wisteria and all that she’d done to keep them apart. It wasn’t fair! She hurled the wadded letter across the room.

  “Mi’ lady, what is wrong? Art thou ill?”

  Cinderella flinched. The last thing she needed was for Queen Loreena’s minion witnessing her temper tantrum. Millicent was Cinderella’s servant, instructed to attend to her every whim. Even though Millicent was quiet and plain-faced, Cinderella sensed that she was cunning and more complex than she appeared. Her watchful eyes were always taking everything in so that she could report back to the queen. “Oh, Millicent, I did not see thee enter the room.” She smoothed her hair and began straightening her gown.

  Millicent went over and picked up the crumpled letter. “You dropped this …” She opened it and started scanning the contents.

  In a flash, Cinderella ran to her side and jerked the letter from her hands. Millicent looked stunned.

  “How dare you! This doesn’t concern you. You have no right to read …”

  “I-I’m sorry, mi’ lady. I do not know how to read,” she blurted. Millicent’s face turned red, and she wouldn’t look Cinderella in the eye.

  “Oh.” The relief she felt was nearly palpable. If anyone found out about Rushton, she’d be done for. Then she got a good look at Millicent. Cinderella felt a stab of pity for the sturdy maiden with her drab hair and plain frock. Her cheeks were blotchy, and she looked like she might break into tears any moment. A wave of guilt washed over Cinderella. Had she forgotten so quickly what it was like to be a servant in Seraphina’s house? What it was like to have no hope for a better future? She of all people knew how it felt to be at the beck and call of someone else day in and day out. For Millicent, there would be no prince to rescue her from the doldrums of servitude. Becoming a servant to a princess was as high as she could climb. Cinderella smiled in an attempt to soften her actions. “I am sorry, I am trying to write my vows to Prince Edward, but I cannot get anything to come out right. I did not mean thee any ill will. I am simply embarrassed for anyone to read them.” She smoothed out the letter, refolded it, and tucked it into the bodice of her gown.

  Millicent frowned. “I was only trying to help.”

  Cinderella immediately understood what Millicent was conveying, for she’d used that same tactic many times on Seraphina and Josselyn. The comment was the closest thing to a reprimand that Millicent dared to give her superior. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “Forgive me, I did not mean to overreact. I am just a little tired and with Prince Edward away on the hunt …” She tried her best to look forlorn and fragile. “I fear being at the castle is a little much for me.”

  Millicent seemed mollified. She immediately jumped to action. “Of course it is, your highness. You will get the hang of it. Tonight at the evening meal, Queen Loreena will instruct you on how—”

  “Nay, I do not feel up to going to the evening meal tonight.” The words came out more quickly than she’d intended. She could feel the blood draining from her face and didn’t have to pretend to look pale. The evening meal the night before had been nearly intolerable, and she’d suffered through the deafening silence of Queen Loreena and her disdainful expressions. There was no way she could handle another evening alone with Queen Loreena. “I am feeling a little faint.” She purposefully stumbled and allowed Millicent to catch her and lead her to the bed.

  “You need your rest. I will have some food brought up for you. Queen Loreena will understand. Prince Edward is due to return late this evening, so thy heart will not have to suffer long without him.”

  “Thank you, Millicent. I think I will take the evening meal in my room.” She offered a wan smile. “I will feel better tomorrow … with Prince Edward at my side,” she added.

  “Allow me to get thee undressed.”

  “Nay!” The protest came out in a near shout.

  Millicent gave her a funny look, her eyes going to the bodice of the gown where Cinderella had tucked the letter.

  “Nay,” she repeated more calmly. “I wish to relax for a while. I will undress myself later.”

  Millicent looked like she might argue, but she only shook her head and got Cinderella settled back into the chair. The moment Millicent left the room, Cinderella pulled the letter from her gown and read it once more. She stared unseeingly into the flames, burning clean and bright. Burning hot enough to consume the letter and banish the words forever. Her feelings about Rushton, the memories, all burnt to ashes. Ashes to be scooped up in the morning and thrown away. She held the letter dangero
usly close to the fire, watching in fascination at how the edges curled. One flick and it would be done for good. The letter gone. Rushton forgotten. A corner caught fire, and before her mind could process what was happening, her fingers were snuffing out the flames. She couldn’t do it. She had to protect the last tangible piece of Rushton she had left, if only for a while. Soon, she told herself, folding the letter and tucking it into her gown. Soon, she would be able to burn the letter and let him go. But for now, for just a little while longer, she would keep it close.

  There would be no wearisome meal with Queen Loreena tonight. She had an appointment to keep.

  * * *

  Cinderella slipped out the postern door just as the last evening bell sounded. It had taken no small effort to slip unnoticed past the guards. Thankfully, Edward was keen on making sure that she knew her way around the castle. On one of his many tours, he’d shown her the postern door—the back door to the palace where people could come and go unnoticed. “Now, my dear Cinderella, ye know something that few people in the palace are privy to—my secret way in and out of the palace,” Edward had said. Thoughtful Edward, always looking out for her. Had it not been for the postern door, there was no way Cinderella could’ve made it out of the palace without being seen. Guilt washed over her. If Edward ever found out that she was slipping out of the palace to meet Rushton … heaven help her!

  She pulled her velvet cloak close around her neck, grateful for the warmth it provided. The moon was full—a round of cheese on a black tablecloth—casting unnatural shadows across the path. It was late fall, but the promise of winter lingered in the moist, night air, causing her breath to come out in tiny puffs of smoke. Only when she got a safe distance away did she dare look over her shoulder and back at the castle. The white, stone walls shimmered in the moonlight. From this vantage point, the moat that spanned three-quarters of the castle looked like a glittering ebony serpent, encircling its prey. She suppressed a shiver and continued on.

  It would be faster to travel the road, but she couldn’t risk being discovered. She would have to take the dark path through the trees. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. Horse hooves thumped in the distance. Someone was coming! Her first instinct was to get off the road and crouch in the ditch until they passed, but she could see the entrance of the path just up ahead. She started running in order to reach the path before the horses overtook her. A few more steps! Blood rushing in her ears! Her heart pounding out of her chest! A few more steps! She reached the path and darted behind a tree just as the horses barreled past. Her breath was coming fast in the cold, making her chest hurt. What was she doing? Any reasonable person would turn around and go straight back to the palace. Even as she thought the words, she clutched her sweaty palms and headed for the Chapel of Westwood.

  In the light of day, she loved walking through the forest, but on this night, the simplest of sounds were sinister. An owl hooting in the distance, a cluster of birds lifting from a nearby tree. The hair on her neck bristled. She quickened her pace until she was nearly running. The crack of a breaking branch stopped her cold, and she whirled around to see what was behind her. Her eyes scanned the dark forest, and she strained to hear the sound again. Nothing. She took off running full speed, her heart in her throat. She didn’t stop until she saw the dark walls of the chapel up ahead. Only when she stepped out into the clearing did she pause to catch a breath. No candlelight coming from the chapel windows, a good sign that the Vicar was sleeping. She scanned the grounds, relieved to find them empty.

  She stole around the back of the chapel and saw him perched on a stone, his horse tethered to the nearby fence post. The moment he saw her, he stood and started running towards her.

  “Rushton,” she uttered in relief.

  He put a finger to her lips, urging her to be silent. He took her hand and pulled her to the edge of the trees. “’Tis safer here,” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  He looked down at her. “Cinderella, I was not sure if you would come … especially considering what happened at the ball.”

  “I almost did not,” she admitted.

  “I can hardly blame thee. When I think of the lengths my mother went to in order to keep us apart …” His jaw clenched.

  She looked at him in surprise. “So you finally believe me.”

  A tortured look darkened his eyes. “Aye, I should have never doubted thee. Of all people, you alone were true.”

  The words settled like vinegar into her thirsty heart, giving her no comfort. What did it matter? The damage was done, and the outcome would be the same. She looked into his eyes. She’d dreamt of him so many times that it was hard to believe that he was really here. A thrill ran through her, and she attributed it to an aftereffect brought on from the terror of running through the forest even though she knew deep down that it was because she was standing so close to Rushton. He smelled of fresh pine and running waters. How easy it would be to get lost in those stormy-blue eyes that seemed to have a heightened excitement in them tonight.

  He surprised her when he reached out and caressed the line of her jaw. The feel of his hand running down her cheek was a memory that she would hold in her heart. A memory that would carry her through a lifetime. “I have missed you,” he said, his voice husky with emotion.

  “Rushton, do not do this.”

  “Do not what? Love you? Asking me to stop loving you is like asking the sun to stop rising.” He gave her a slight smile.

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Stop torturing me. We cannot change the past. We cannot stop the engagement. It has been written into The Grimm Laws. It is more permanent now than stone. You said so yourself! I must forget about you as you must forget about me.” Her voice broke as she put a hand over her mouth to control her emotions.

  “There might be another way.”

  Another way? Nay, she’d thought of all of the possible scenarios. “There is no other way,” she said flatly.

  “Come with me.”

  She froze.

  “Come with me, Cinderella. We can leave this night and go to another kingdom where no one knows us. We can start a new life together.”

  The words were like stones falling from the sky and pelting her. “Leave the kingdom?” Her mouth went dry. “But where would we go? How would we live?”

  “I have a stash of gold hidden away. We will have everything we need.”

  “We would be fugitives, always looking over our shoulders.”

  He grasped her arms. “We will be together. Nothing could ever separate us again! Do you really want to contemplate a life of being apart?”

  Her heart was being smashed to pieces. “A life without you is bleak and colorless,” she admitted. Could she do it? Could she leave everything and go away with him? The temptation to flee was so strong that it nearly took her breath away. Then for some inexplicable reason, an image of Edward flashed through her mind, followed by the manor. If she left, everything that remained of her father and mother would be sold to pay the debts. She shook her head. “I cannot leave.”

  His face fell. “What? You love me.”

  “I will always love you, Rushton.” Tears streamed freely down her face. “I love you with a pure love that can never be taken from me. A day will not pass when I will not think of you and what we had together.”

  A furrow appeared between his brows. “If ye truly love me, then the choice should be simple.”

  She could hear the edge in his voice and it caused a burst of anger to bubble in her chest. “Nay, leaving one’s home is never a simple decision. Furthermore, ‘tis not fair for you to keep popping in and out of my life! When I believed you to be dead, I mourned you. I was alone. My heart bled, but I had to make a hard decision, and then when you came back, it got even more complicated.” Her eyes pled with him to understand. “I cannot do this again. I made a commitment, and I have to stand by it.”

  He scoffed. “A commitment? To whom? Edward?”

  “Aye, to Edward, to the kingdom, to m
y family.”

  His eyes went wide. “Thy family?” He let out a derisive laugh. “Seraphina and Josselyn? They are using thee, Cinderella.”

  “‘Tis not only about them,” she countered defensively. “‘Tis about the manor and what my father spent his life trying to build.”

  “You are prattling on about commitments to the kingdom and a father that has been dead since you were a child! This is foolishness! I love you, Cinderella, and you love me!”

  “Love is not enough!” she slung back. “I need something constant, steady—something I can count on.”

  He rocked back as the words sunk in. “Edward. You are speaking of Edward.”

  She cringed at the condemnation in his eyes. He blew out a breath and raked his hands through his hair. “I can scarcely believe it. You are choosing Edward over me.”

  “Nay, this is not about Edward. This is about commitment.”

  “I love you heart and soul as Edward never will. Edward will always put the good of the kingdom before thee.” His tone became cutting. “You are merely a feather to him. A beautiful feather that he will keep tucked away in a glass case for the kingdom to admire. He is not worthy of thee.”

  “Stop it!” She shook her head as her doubts rose up hideous and terrible, clutching her like a vice. Nay, it wasn’t true. Edward was kind and patient, willing to allow her the space she needed to develop and grow into her love for him whereas Rushton demanded her love like the river of fire that demanded that the earth part in its path. She took a step back from him and glanced around at the dark forest. “‘Tis late. I must get back to the castle before anyone realizes I am gone.”

  “Edward will never have the depth to understand you, much less love you,” he muttered.

  Her heart softened as she realized what was happening. He was hurting and therefore saying spiteful things. It was his impetuous behavior coming out.

  She touched his arm. “Rushton, we haven’t much time. Do not let our last moment be one of sorrow.”