Fair Maiden

by Cheri Schmidt

  “No, Contessa. I have not given up, and I do not want you to either.”

  Her brows pinched together.

  Such a cute expression. He smirked, kissed her nose, and removed his hand.

  “Christian, please. We do not have to get married. In fact we cannot. How could we? For you know I am dead.”

  He seized her cheeks gently. His fingers slid into her hair and curled around her nape. His thumbs moved along her cheekbones. “I could not touch a ghost, Contessa.” Fingers moved along her jaw and settled beneath as he found her pulse. “The dead do not have beating hearts. The dead are not warm to the touch.”

  “It is only fleeting.” That lurking storm within her gaze gathered again.

  “Rubbish. We’ll crush this horrible spell, and you will be free again. Full of life.”

  Still, she did not look convinced. His gaze held hers as he struggled to gather more convincing words to sway her, to keep her from giving up. When nothing else came to mind, he settled his mouth over hers and tried to kiss understanding into her head.

  Tabitha cleared her throat. “If you will leave, my lord, I’ll help Contessa with her gown and hair.”

  Releasing her lips, he dropped his forehead against hers, smiling as her hair tickled his cheek. “Yes, ma’am.” But instead of leaving right away, he gathered Tessa’s jaw and pressed another kiss to her nose. She blushed, and then he moved toward the door.

  With his fingers wrapped around the handle he paused and looked back. “Tabitha?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you speak her name now, when you would not before?”

  “Because it does not matter any longer. The spell that killed her is breaking. And,” she smiled at him sheepishly, “I confess I am rooting for you.”

  “Ah-ha, you’ve had a change of heart.”

  The witch nodded.

  “Thank you,” he said. “See, Contessa, you must not lose faith. Promise me?”

  After releasing a breath, Tessa loosened another blue ribbon from her hair then whispered, “I promise.”

  Satisfied, even though he wasn’t altogether convinced she truly meant it, Christian left.

  Preparations began for a romantic proposal and Christian ordered an expensive ring. Apparently, getting engaged was enough for his sire to give him the “significant sum” mentioned at the bottom of that document—the one Leeraby had brought to him weeks ago.

  “Today’s the day, Jackson. Is the picnic prepared?”

  “Yes, my lord, exactly as you requested. A hamper has been packed with cold roasted chicken, smoked salmon, a selection of fine cheeses, crusty French bread, strawberries and cream, lavender lemonade, chilled tea and wine, and a wonderful collection of chocolates.”

  “Brilliant, old man, you’re a hero disguised in wool.”

  “Are you quite certain you don’t wish for me to take things to the picnic site to set it up? Hot tea is the standard, even for such an outing—”

  “Jackson, I want this to be private. I don’t want servants hiding out in the foliage to serve us.”

  “And, Son, you’re still in need of a chaperone—”

  “You’re forgetting we’re already betrothed. It is no longer necessary.”

  “It isn’t any trouble for me to come. Surely—”

  “Where are we going?” asked Contessa.

  Christian turned to face her and smiled. Tabitha had dressed her very well for this outing. Not yet had he seen her dressed in white, and he quite liked it. She bashfully fiddled with the pink ribbon tied around her waist. Christian took his time taking in the entire sight before him. From the top of her tulle-embellished bonnet to the bottom of her gown with the pink and white striped fabric peeking out from under the lace-trimmed overdress—she was pure confection.

  “On a picnic, my darling princess, how does that sound?”

  Her lips curled upward and the expression brightened her entire face. “Delightful,” she replied. Her gaze passed over his dimple and she looked away, blushing.

  Leaning to the left, Christian recaptured her gaze. “Shall we then?” He drew her arm through his.

  “But, Christian—” protested Jackson.

  It only took one warning look to silence the old chap who held out the hamper and blanket with an expression of annoyance furrowing his already crinkled brow.

  With one arm, Christian collected the supplies and escorted Tessa to the stables. “Wait right here while I go and gather my horse.”

  She nodded.

  As Christian tightened the straps on Prince’s saddle he scowled to himself. “Why in the world did I name you Prince?”

  The horse nudged his shoulder and snorted.

  “It’s a bit ironic, I tell you.” He chuckled softly, patting Prince on his black muzzle. “And to think, the villain in this tale is the prince.”

  Prince followed as Christian took the reins and led him toward Contessa.

  After strapping their picnic to the horse, he took her about the waist and lifted her to the saddle, then mounted behind her.

  This felt quite different from their last horse ride, he mused, as his arm curved around her middle. “Comfortable?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Good.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked again. Her fingers clasped onto his sleeve as they began to move.

  “The river.”

  As they traversed to the riverbank, Contessa kept exclaiming, “Oh, how lovely. Oh, I never did explore this way. Oh, my…’tis a dream world.”

  He thought so too, and today couldn’t have been more perfect. Fat clouds lazily slid across the sky, all of them were pure white, and none of them offered any threat to his plans for a romantic afternoon.

  “Christian, it is so beautiful,” she went on. “The flowers do like it here, do they not? Just lovely.”

  Laughing under his breath, he stopped Prince just beyond a copse of elms and boxwood, a few yards away from the edge of the water. “I visited this on my second day at the estate. I’d only moved my things in and taken one ride around the property before I was called back to London. Obviously before you’d awakened.” He swung a leg over and stepped down, then reached for Contessa. “Mother told me about it, though I’m certain she’d expected me to fish, and nothing more.”

  Her booted feet got lost in the grass as he let her down. She gathered her skirt in her fingers to lift and protect the hemline, and then she looked about. “Are those bluebells?”

  When she tried to go after them, he captured her about the waist. “Now, now, my sweet, you mustn’t wander off. The ground is uneven; you could twist an ankle.”

  “I only wish to smell them.” She pouted up at him, unable to escape his strength.

  He could feel the half-smile on his mouth as he released her, but warned with his eyes that she was to stay put. Tossing the blanket outward to settle it as flat as possible upon the grass, Christian said, “Sit here. I’ll gather all the bluebells you like.”

  After taking his hand, Tessa lowered to the blanket, curling her feet to the side, and watched as he hiked out through thick grass and wildflowers.

  Christian returned with two handfuls of flowers. He handed a bouquet of bluebells, red poppies, and pink yarrow to her whilst he sank next to her still holding a bunch of little daisies and white elder flowers.

  “What are you going to do with those?” she asked after smelling what he’d just given her.

  “I’m going to make a wreath for your lovely hair.”

  “Really?” She smiled at him as she rubbed the petals between finger and thumb, then the flowers dropped to the blanket.

  “Contessa,” he said, and she returned to living form. He set the bouquet back into her hand, and the smile returned to her mouth, although this time it wavered slightly.

  Pretending that hadn’t just happened, he said, “Every princess deserves a crown of flowers.” He’d created flower circlets before, many times, in fact. So he made quick work of it, braiding the stems and
twisting them around into a ring shape.

  Contessa seemed surprised when he removed her hat and placed the finished circlet upon her head. “Brilliant,” he said, “it fits perfectly around this breathtaking up-do Tabitha has done for you today.”

  “You are quite proficient with flowers, Christian. Should I suspect you of having done this for many maidens?”

  “Guilty as charged, though I’ve only made these for one other maiden besides yourself.” And when her smile slipped even more, he added, “Emma has worn many of my designs.”

  “Only her?”

  “Of course, only her. When we were younger we would play Robin Hood and she would be the fair princess in distress, while I played Robin, who came to her rescue.” He chuckled. “Well, unless it was Peter’s turn to be the hero, then I’d be the quite sinister Sheriff of Nottingham.”

  “I cannot picture you as sinister.”

  “Trust me. I was the best at playing the sheriff, while Peter played Robin far better than me.” To prove it, he put on a dangerous expression and emitted his evil villain laugh.

  She laughed in response, batted at his arm and said, “Stop that. Who is Robin Hood?”

  Christian frowned. “I can’t believe you don’t know. The tales of him were written so long ago. Is it possible you’ve only forgotten?”

  “It is possible. Do you have these books with tales of Robin in them?”

  “I do have a couple of volumes you could read.”

  She stared at him, twisting the pink ribbon around her finger. It seemed she was waiting for him to further explain Robin Hood. “It figures that you’d be more interested in him. Robin was a handsome outlaw who stole from the rich to help the poor. He was a master with a bow and arrow.”

  “Are you also skilled with a bow?”

  “I’m afraid not. That’s likely why Peter was better at being Robin.”

  “If he was an outlaw, why was he the hero?”

  “He was also an earl, I suppose. It seems women have always fallen for the dangerous hero, especially if he’s titled.” To distract her from falling in love with the long-gone character of Hood, Christian began opening the hamper.

  The tactic worked quite well, because apparently Tessa was hungry. She went for the chocolate first.

  Cutting a portion of chicken off, he began filling a plate for each of them. He set the porcelain before her and also presented a napkin. She accepted the linen, and glanced at the meal momentarily before biting her lip with a mischievous smirk, and then took another chocolate.

  He laughed. “Are you going to eat dessert first?”

  “Will you think less of me if I do?”

  Laughing again, he lifted a strawberry to her lips. “You may dine however you like, my lady.”

  She bit into the juicy fruit and smiled, then her little pink tongue shot out and collected juice from her bottom lip. Still holding the stem, he nibbled away the remainder of berry up to leaves and then tossed it over his shoulder. If she only knew the thoughts her mouth conjured for him, she would see why the Sheriff fit him better. But she trusted him so much he knew he never wanted to do anything to shatter that. To have her look at him differently would cut too deeply to bear, so he’d keep his male thoughts to himself.

  As they finished eating and chatting, Christian checked his pocket for the box containing the ring. It was there. He gave it a reassuring pat.

  “Thank you for the fine picnic. It was heavenly. What are we going to do now?” she asked just before dropping the last slice of Gouda onto her tongue.

  “What would you like to do?”

  “What is there to do?” She leaned backward to lie out upon the blanket, then suggested, “Watch the clouds?”

  How was he supposed to get down on one knee when she lay below him? He did it anyway. Braced on his right knee, he bent over her and looked down while he dug the box out of his pocket. “I have some plans.”

  “You do?”

  “I’m in love with you, Contessa.”

  Green eyes fringed with thick lashes blinked up at him, and she tried to sit up.

  He gently pushed her back down, and shushed her. “Let me finish.” Removing the ring, he gathered her left hand. “There has been no ring here before, and I’m glad there never was, but there will be now.”

  “I-I’m confused. I thought we were already betrothed.”

  “We are, but I wish to make it official.”

  “Oh.” Contessa looked at the ring between his fingers. “Are those emeralds?”

  “Yes, emeralds to match your eyes and diamonds to match your soul. Contessa, will you be my wife?” He began moving the gold onto her finger.

  Unfortunately, the moment he let go of it, she suddenly turned back into a spirit, and the stone-encrusted gold dropped to the blanket. No, he thought, he wouldn’t curse. Not in front of her, and certainly not now. Jackson was right in chastising him for his foul language. Christian could admit the habit was getting out of hand. He would control himself now when he wanted to bellow like a sailor, for he was not a sailor, and never had been. He had no right to talk like that, especially around a sweet lady-like Contessa.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Christian schooled his expression, feigning calmness with the situation, and tried to get her back. After speaking her name a number of times, she did return to the living, but just as he tried to put the ring on, she again became untouchable. In his head he cursed profusely.

  “Christian, I—I…” She rose as she spoke and hovered in front of him.

  He slipped the ring up to the knuckle of his pinky finger. “I’ll wear it for now, but I do wish for an answer. Will you marry me?”

  Again she hesitated, again he spoke, looking up at her, “Sweetheart, please be my bride. We’ll solve this—”

  No was written upon her face, and he feared she might refuse him. “Have you not wished for this?” he queried with a gentle tone.

  “I—well, yes, I have wished for this.” She blushed prettily and he knew it was difficult for her to admit it.

  “I’ve wanted this, too. I was going to propose anyway, before my mother....Tessa, please.”

  Her breath shuddered as she drew in air. “What if I stay this way? Always flickering back and forth between life and death?”

  Christian didn’t know the answer to that. He touched her hand and felt it pass through his. “We’re already betrothed, this is simply a formality,” he said instead of trying to respond to her questions.

  Letting that sink in, he watched, and waited, then finally she said, “I love you, too. Yes.”

  Christian barely heard the words, but they were enough. Only then did he rise from his knee, his gaze locked with hers. She turned solid and sank to the earth. Determined, he seized her hand and slipped the ring on again.

  This time it stayed, and she stayed; they both exhaled in relief, except she was now dressed in that golden wedding gown again. The flower wreath had fallen to the grass and he picked it up, replacing it upon her head. She looked quite medieval with loose curls gracing her shoulders, with ribbons and flowers in her hair. He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed her hand, and then her mouth. It was a lingering kiss, one befitting a proper proposal. “Thank you,” he whispered after releasing her.

  Chapter 25

  Soirée Escape

  Water lapped at the sides of the boat as Christian pushed the oar through the water. It had been difficult getting into the small craft with this wedding gown on. Christian had wrapped the train around her legs, lifted her into the seat since she could no longer walk, and then piled the remainder of fabric on top of her knees.

  He appeared determined to enjoy the rest of their outing, even if she was dressed like a bride.

  The sun hung low in the sky, and it was rimmed with the orange and pink of sunset, just as the clouds were. Contessa drew in the scents around her. She could smell the moss and the water and—she wrinkled her nose—the fish.

  “This would be
a fine fishing spot,” said Christian. “Mother said Father came out here daily when they took holiday at Krestly.”

  “Hmm,” she agreed, “It does smell like a good place to catch fish.”

  He laughed, and lifted the bouquet of flowers she still held closer to her nose. “Isn’t it pretty, though?” Grateful the odors surrounding them were smothered by the scent of yarrow and bluebells, she smiled and nodded.

  She looked around them as the boat rocked gently. The late sunlight sparkled on the water like jewels of amber. Bright white shined around the silhouettes of the cattails and grasses growing along the bank. “No, this is not pretty,” she said. “This is beautiful.”

  Tessa only realized she was shivering when Christian removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders. “Perhaps we should be getting back,” he said swatting at an insect.

  Smiling, Tessa slid her arms into the sleeves and pushed them up to release her hands. The material still held his body heat, and she liked that.

  “Would you like the last chocolate?” He held it out for her.

  “Yes, thank you.” She took the candy from his hand and ate it.

  White teeth flashed when Christian grinned. He rowed toward the shore. “How does hot tea and warm scones sound for when we get back?”

  “Wonderful.” She giggled. “You spoil me, Christian. Around you I will never fear going hungry.”

  “I should hope not.”

  The boat bumped the edge of the bank, and Christian jumped out, grabbed the rope and tugged it farther onto the grass. Once it was tied to a tree trunk, he set one foot in the boat, looped one arm around her back and the other under her knees.

  “This dress is heavy,” he said, adjusting his hold on her as he straightened. She slung arms around his neck.

  “Perhaps the problem is that you feed me too well.”

  “Are you suggesting I restrict chocolate, clotted cream, and pudding from your diet?” he asked settling her upon the horse with such ease he could not possibly have been speaking the truth about her being heavy.

  His words reminded her of the steaming bread pudding smothered in cream they’d enjoyed the other night. “Please, no,” she whispered when he climbed up behind her and took the reins.