A Perfect Fit:

by Elizabeth Rose

  “Of course not.” William held out his hand and stepped to the side. “Go right ahead.”

  “What’s wrong with the shoes?” asked Lucio, pulling them out of the travel bag.

  “My sisters said they are too small and the straps need to be lengthened. They want to wear them to Sir William’s ball.”

  William stared at the girl, digging deep into his mind trying to remember something . . . anything that would make him remember the relationship they once had. She noticed him staring and looked down and gripped her cloak tighter around her. Her hand lifted and she smoothed back a lock of hair. Like the last two times he’d seen her, she had soot on her face, and from what he could see of her peasant-like gown, it was dirty as well.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to clean up,” she apologized. “I am not presentable to be in your presence.”

  William was tongue-tied, not knowing what to say. Even with soot on her face and her long, blond hair mussed, she was the vision of loveliness. Without thinking what he was doing, he reached out and touched her on the arm.

  Her frightened eyes opened wide. She stiffened, backing away as if she thought he could possibly hurt her. He dropped his hand to his side, feeling a stab like a dagger to his heart by her reaction.

  “Cinderella, are you going to Sir William’s ball as well?” asked Lucio, thankfully coming to his aid in this awkward situation.

  “Nay, Castor. My father and stepmother won’t allow it.”

  “Why not?” William blurted out. “I sent you an invitation as well as your sisters.”

  “But I am the youngest and will not marry before Greta and Beatrice. I am to stay home and wait until it is my turn.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said William, causing her look up in surprise once again.

  “Sir William, are you suggesting I go against the baron’s wishes? After all, he is my father, and I must obey him.”

  Lucio let out a loud snort, showing his disapproval. “Any father worth his salt would never send a young maiden to town alone in the dark.”

  “Castor, I have never heard you speak so ill of the baron before,” she said in surprise. “I hardly think it is appropriate – especially in front of Sir William.”

  “Here are your shoes,” said Lucio, shoving them back into the travel bag and handing it to her. “Now go home before you put yourself in danger and before it gets any darker.”

  “But Castor, I cannot go home until you fix the shoes.”

  “I did,” he said.

  “Already?” She started to open the bag to look at them, but William took it from her.

  “Allow me to carry this for you,” he said, putting his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to the door. “What the cordwainer says is true. You shouldn’t be out at night all alone. It isn’t safe.”

  “Thank you, Sir William.” Once they got outside, she reached for the bag. “I must be on my way now.”

  He wanted to stop her. Nay – he wanted to kiss her. An overwhelming need to touch her filled his body, but he didn’t dare. She might think he was accosting her again.

  “Allow me to help you mount your steed.” Throwing the travel bag over his shoulder, he reached out and put his hands around her small waist, lifting her up into the saddle. A flash of memory passed through his mind of another place and another time. It was a sunny day when he helped her in just the same way. He would have liked to think about it, but a low growl from behind him made him spin on his heel. A wolf – that is, Hugh de Bar in his shapeshifting form, approached them slowly. He showed his teeth and growled. It spooked the horse, making it rear up.

  “Nay, down girl,” shouted Ella, trying her best to still her steed. “It’s a wolf!” she shouted, frightened at the way the animal stalked them.

  “Don’t fear. I will protect you.” Sir William was very brave, holding out his arms and chasing the wolf away. He reached up and grabbed the reins and stilled her horse as well.

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling her heart thumping loudly in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the fear of the wolf causing her reaction. Mayhap, her heart was still racing from the way Sir William had looked at her. She liked feeling his hands wrapped around her waist as he helped her mount her horse.

  It felt good to be touched by a man as handsome as William. There was warmth and comfort in his touch. Now she felt foolish that she’d backed away from him earlier. This man would never hurt her. He was her protector.

  “I will be on my way back to Inglewood Manor now if you’ll so kindly hand me my bag.”

  Instead of handing her the bag, in one swift movement he reached out and pulled himself up into the saddle behind her. It took her by surprise and she found herself unable to speak.

  “I’m not letting you go anywhere alone. It is not safe – any fool can see that. I will deliver you to your door myself.”

  His arm closed around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. His other arm reached around her and took the reins.

  “My lord!” she cried out, wondering what her father would say when she rode up in the night pressed up against Sir William Fremont.

  “Hush, Ella,” he said in a low voice, his mouth against her ear. “Lean back and relax. I am not going to hurt you. I give you my word I am here only to help you and see to your safety.”

  Her eyes closed slightly, and her head fell back against him as they rode. A delicious shiver ran up her spine at the feel of his strong legs wrapped around her. It felt right. It was almost as if they had done this before. Even if she couldn’t remember him from the past, she remembered Medea’s proclamation that they had once been in love. Did he remember, even though she couldn’t? She found herself needing to know.

  “Stop before you approach the castle,” she told him, wanting to talk with him alone.

  He stopped at the edge of the woods, and she turned back to look at him. Their faces were so close she could not even focus on his features.

  “Was there something you wanted, Lady Ella?”

  It wasn’t often anyone called her lady, and he was the only one who had ever called her Ella to her recollection.

  “Sir William, have we – did we –” she didn’t know how to say it.

  “Go on,” he said, reaching out with one hand to stroke her cheek.

  “Did you know me before?” she blurted out.

  “I saw you in town just the other night.” In the light of the moon, she could see him staring at her mouth. He wanted to kiss her. She wanted him to do it. Her head tilted back and she closed her eyes as she whispered to him.

  “Do you remember me from before the other night? You called me Ella and I thought, mayhap, you knew me from another place and time.”

  Her eyes flickered open just as his mouth covered hers in a gentle kiss. Fires of desire shot through her. Her head dizzied at the touch of his caress. It was as if she were on the brink of remembering something – anything that might have had to do with them possibly knowing each other and being in love.

  “Nay,” he finally answered.

  “Nay?” This wasn’t what she wanted to hear, nor was it the answer she expected. She pushed back to look at him in the moonlight. His dark hair seemed to have a midnight-blue sheen from the moon. It made him look regal and very handsome.

  “Nay, I do not remember you from before the other night,” he continued. “I would be lying if I said I did.”

  “Oh.” Her hopes were dashed by the silly notions that had filled her head. She wanted to run and lock herself in her tower room and cry. Why had she believed Medea? This man didn’t know her any more than she knew him. Her instincts had told her differently, but it wasn’t true. She had just kissed a perfect stranger.

  “Thank you for your escort, Sir William. However, I think it would be better if I rode into the courtyard by myself. My father won’t take kindly to the fact I was riding with you on the same horse.”

  “What difference does it make?” he asked her. “I was your escort.”
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  “Please, Sir William.” It was hard for her to dismiss him, but if word got out about this, she would be punished. “And forget about the kiss we just shared. I don’t want anyone to know.”

  “Why not?” he asked, sounding very disappointed.

  She couldn’t let her stepsisters know she kissed him. They wanted to attract him and make him their husband. This would only bring her strife. “It was a mistake and can never happen again,” she told him, feeling pain shoot through her heart as she said the words.

  “I see.” He slid off the horse and took the travel bag from his shoulder. Then he handed it to her, contemplating his next words. “Will you be attending the ball?” he asked, looking ever so hopeful.

  Her heart wanted to say yes, but her head told her to say no. Seeing him again would only hurt because they could never be together. Her sisters would marry first, and she would not even be betrothed until her father decided the time was right. Lately, she got the feeling if she had to wait for Greta and Beatrice to marry first, she would end up an old woman in a nunnery.

  “I am sorry, Sir William, but I cannot attend the ball. Thank you, once again, for your kindness. Goodnight.”

  As she rode away from him, her heart felt like it was breaking. A tear dripped down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Now, all she had to remember him by was a kiss. And this was one kiss she would cherish and never forget for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 9

  “Wake up, dear sister.”

  Ella opened one sleepy eye, not even sure she had slept at all last night. Tossing and turning, she struggled with the decision she made never to see Lord William again.

  “Fairy godmother,” said Ella, sitting up, feeling like hell. Her head hurt, and she was tired and hungry. But worst of all, she had mice running atop her covers and all around the room.

  “By the looks of it, you have not stood up to your family at all.” Medea sighed, brushed aside a mouse, and plunked down atop a chair.

  “I couldn’t,” said Ella, pushing up from the pallet that was directly on the floor. The room didn’t seem as cold as usual. Then she realized there was a fire burning in the hearth – a hearth that wasn’t usually there. “Did you do that?” she asked, getting up and walking over to warm her hands at the fire.

  “You need something to keep all these mice at bay. So, tell me what happened yesterday.”

  “Nothing happened,” she said, not wanting to let her fairy godmother know she’d kissed a man. She picked up an iron rod and poked at the fire.

  “Oh, really? Let’s just find out about that.” She held out her hand, and a mirror materialized from thin air.

  “That mirror,” said Ella. “I saw it tucked into the waist belt of an old hag that appeared in my chamber the day I met you.”

  “That old hag was a very powerful witch named Hecuba. She is my mother. But my mother has been distracted ever since she had encounters with Rapunzel and the dragons. She’s determined to get a dragon of her own. In the meantime, I decided to have a little fun.”

  “Who is this Rapunzel that you say is our sister? And what do you mean about dragons?”

  “I can tell you certain things that won’t affect your situation because I am a . . . fairy godmother. But certain things are better left unexplained at this time. And what I mean is that I can see whoever I want or whatever time I want just by looking into this magic mirror.”

  “You can?” That took Ella’s interest. She gently placed the poker back into the holder and padded across the floor with bare feet, looking over Medea’s shoulder.

  “Let’s see what you were doing late last night.”

  “It’s not important. Shall we talk about something else?” Ella reached out for the mirror, but Medea moved it away.

  “What’s this?” asked Medea. “You kissed Sir William?” The girl almost sounded a bit jealous.

  “You can see that in the mirror?” Ella looked into the mirror. Sure enough, there she was kissing Sir William.

  “It looks like you enjoyed it.”

  “So, what if I did?”

  “Did he tell you that you two were once in love?”

  “Just the opposite,” she said, reliving the pain of the moment. “I asked if he remembered me from before the first night we met in town when he was following me.”

  “What did he say?”

  She looked at the ground, trying not to cry. “He said no. You are mistaken, Medea. He didn’t even know me, so we could never have been in love.”

  “Are you so sure that you are not the one who is mistaken?”

  “Can you see other times in that mirror?” asked Ella. “If so, I would like you to look into my past, so I can see if we were really lovers. I want to remember everything I have forgotten.”

  “Yes, this mirror can do that.”

  “Then let me see my past.” Ella reached out for the mirror, but it disappeared from Medea’s hand. “Where did it go?” Ella turned a full circle.

  “I have the mirror,” came a crackly old voice.

  “Mother?” Medea stood up and looked around the room. One of the mice atop the pallet shapeshifted into the old hag. In her hand was the mirror. Ella watched in amazement.

  “Medea, what are you doing here?” asked Hecuba. “And why did you take my mirror?”

  “Oh, Mother, I was just having a little fun.” Medea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Her mouth turned into a pout like you’d see on a spoiled child.

  “You know the rules. Don’t meddle when one of my curses is involved.” Hecuba turned to glare at Ella next. “And you – stop asking so many questions about your past. If I had wanted you to remember, I wouldn’t have cursed you by taking away your memory in the first place.”

  “You did that?” Ella asked, feeling angry and curious at the same time. “It wasn’t an accident that made me forget?”

  “Not any more than it was an accident when Arnon turned into a frog or Kin spun wool into gold.”

  “Pardon me?” asked Ella, moving closer. “Who are Arnon and Kin?”

  “Never mind. I said too much.” Hecuba shoved the hand mirror back into her belt. “Medea, you are not to come here again without me.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.” Medea started spouting off to her mother like she was a defiant child instead of a grown woman.

  “Medea, perhaps you should listen to your mother,” suggested Ella, not wanting her father or stepmother to hear the shouting from within the room.

  “Cinderella, I am not a mouse like you.” Medea’s eyes turned a shade darker. “I stand up for what I believe. And in this case, my mother is wrong in telling me to stay away since I’m your sister.”

  “Hush, Medea,” Hecuba warned her.

  “I might just tell father what you’re doing.”

  “I am sure Lucio already knows.”

  “Lucio?” asked Ella, remembering that was the name of the guard who had come to her door. “Medea, is Lucio your father? My father?”

  “Medea, it is your fault she is hearing things she shouldn’t.” Without even touching her, Hecuba sent Medea sailing through the air, slamming up against a wall.

  “Stop it, Mother!” Medea returned the favor, sending Hecuba falling against a chair, the force of her body breaking the wood.

  “Shhh, please, be quiet,” Ella begged, looking back toward the door. Someone was bound to hear all this noise and she would be punished for it in the end.

  The two of them threw a few more bolts of light and, before Ella knew it, her pallet was ripped open. Feathers drifted everywhere.

  “Cinderella? What’s going on in there?”

  At the sound of the baron’s voice from the other side of the door, Ella froze. The latch moved. She closed her eyes and waited for her father’s explosion once he saw what was going on in the room. “What the hell happened here?”

  She opened her eyes slowly. To her surprise, both Medea and Hecuba were gone. The room was in a
shambles. Smoke from the witches’ escapades lingered in the air.

  “Open the shutter and get some air in here. What were you burning to cause so much smoke?”

  “It was the fire on the hearth,” she said, turning and pointing to nothing but a stone wall. When Medea left, she must have taken the fire and hearth with her.

  “What is the matter with you, Cinderella? You are acting odd. And what did you do to your chamber and your pallet?”

  “Father, tell me about my childhood,” she said.

  “What?” he looked at her and scowled. “Why would I do that?”

  “Who is my mother? Do I have siblings? And what did I do to make you hate me?”

  “Stop with all the questions.” He held his hands to his head. “You are making my head ache.”

  “I need to know,” she told him. “The truth. I can’t remember anything about my past. I beg you to tell me what you know.”

  The baron sighed. Quickly, he walked over and yanked open the shutter. He held his head in his hands again and finally spoke while staring out the window. “I am going to tell you something I have never told anyone before.” He turned to look at her. His eyes narrowed. “If you repeat this to anyone, you will be sorry.”

  “I won’t say anything,” she said, stepping over a mouse and making her way to him.

  “For some time now I have been feeling as if I am losing my mind.”

  “What do you mean?” She kept her voice calm, not wanting to sound too eager to know his secrets.

  “I remember my first wife who died in childbirth.”

  “So, I had siblings?”

  “Nay, that is just it. The baby died as well. We didn’t have any other children together. Then I married Agnes, who had two daughters and had just lost her husband.”

  “So . . . where do I come in?”

  He looked forlorn as he shook his head. “I don’t know. I cannot remember anything about your childhood or when you were born. You see, I think I am losing my mind, and it makes me angry.”