Loving a Prince Charming

by Danielle Monsch

  “Yes, celebrate,” Seth agreed. His best friend. His beloved companion. His protector. “After all, gifts like this can’t be expected every day.”

  “So, question,” said Laura, watching from above as Seth walked out the door with Kira in his arms and told the two kings not to bother them until the wedding day. “Why couldn’t we just tell Seth and Kira about this little turn of events instead of letting them suffer these last few days of angst?”

  “You need to take a longer-term view of these things,” Sara told the other FG. “Yes, these last few days were not pleasant, but they prevented lots of ugly questions from rearing up in the future. Questions like, did Seth truly love Kira, or was he just transferring his duty from Rosamund to her? Without that little declaration, a tiny part of Kira’s heart would always wonder.”

  Laura nodded. “Plus it led to Seth doing a little soul-searching—”

  “Which will ultimately make him a better king. Precisely,” Sara finished, giving Laura a glance of approval. “Also, we can’t forget Rosamund. We had to let her start to come into her own. These last years have done a number on her, and it will be a long road for her.” Sara looked toward the young woman who sat alone, staring at a large, old tree outside of a window. “I really would have hated it if she fell under the curse. Her life has been ruined enough. I want her to only have happiness now.”

  “Would she really have slept forever?”

  “Not that long. Actually, it would only have been about a year.” Sara laughed at the surprise on Laura’s face.

  A sheepish smile replaced the surprise. “I’m sorry. It’s just there had been such a build-up on the misery and fear. I wasn’t expecting it could end so easily.”

  “Yes, well, her potential HEA is a very determined young man. A year, I think, and I’d be surprised if it takes that long now that she can meet him halfway.” Sara stopped and began muttering to herself, flicking her fingers in the way someone does when they are counting. Her eyes widened after she folded the last finger. “Dear me, that soon? Laura, I hope you like Rosamund.”

  “I do, Godmother. Very much,” the younger woman assured her.

  “Excellent, because I’m going to need you to continue your association with her for a bit longer.”

  A folder appeared in the air, the red HEA stamped on the cover bright and eye-catching. With a lazy, unhurried movement, Sara grasped it and opened it to read. “Perfect. All is as it should be. Now my dear—” Sara grabbed Laura’s hand and stood, “—Let’s get you to your next assignment. Not a moment to waste.”

  “Lead on, Godmother Sara. Lead on.”

  The End

  Note from Danielle Monsch: Hi there! I wanted to take a moment to thank all my amazing readers. My Fairy Tales & Ever Afters series is doing better than I could have hoped, and it’s all because of your support. It’s very gratifying to know I’m not alone in enjoying reimagined fairy tales.

  As a token of my thanks, I’d like to give away some books! Yay, right? Here’s the deal: Leave a review of this book (or Loving a Fairy Godmother or Loving an Ugly Beast) anywhere reviews are to be found – Amazon, B&N, Goodreads, even your blog. Email me at Dani@DanielleMonsch.com with a link of where you left the review, and to show my appreciation of your help, I’ll send you a free copy of the next book in this series, Loving a Perfect Princess (Snow White’s story!) when it releases in late June. And for all news about my latest releases and what’s coming out, check out my website www.DanielleMonsch.com. Happy reading!

  Also Available from Danielle Monsch

  Loving an Ugly Beast

  Fairy Tales & Ever Afters, Book 2

  He may be a Beast…

  Known as Beast in his village for both his hulking size and multitude of scars, Benton had long ago resigned himself to a life without love, and he was content with his solitary existence. At least he had been, until Nissa entered his life.

  …but she was no Beauty.

  Plain and plain-spoken, Nissa came to the village three years ago looking for a fresh start and a quiet life. She has both, until the very strange day when her friend Benton disappears and a new man arrives at the village – handsome, charming, and intent on courting her.

  A fairy godmother gives Benton his greatest wish. Now that he is a beauty and not a beast, Benton intends to make Nissa fall in love with him. However, scars don’t have to be visible to exist. Will Nissa’s past destroy any chance of Happily Ever After?

  Chapter One

  “Hey Rat-face, carrying any cheese in that basket?”

  Nissa sighed and checked the urge to roll her eyes or speed up her pace over the well-worn path through the forest. To show weakness was to invite further idiocy.

  If boys could somehow be locked away between the ages of twelve and twenty, life would be easier.

  These two boys were both sixteen, and while they weren’t overt and vile in their nastiness, neither would they allow a chance at an easy target pass them by. “I don’t think rodents understand how we talk,” said Jonan, the one who started it all. The son of the local butcher, he was as flat-faced and flat-headed as his father, with wits to match.

  “I agree, mate. That’s why we have rat traps. We make rats do what we want.” That was Nathaniel, nastier overall than his dim-witted friend, due to his greater intelligence and higher social standing thanks to his father’s position on the village council.

  Perhaps a direct confrontation might make them give up their campaign of harassment. “Boys, you should get back to the village. I know your parents would not be pleased to see you this far out.”

  Or perhaps she was being wishful in her thinking, because without a moment’s hesitation, Nathaniel replied, “What would you know about our parents other than what to serve them? Besides, we’re hungry. Why don’t you share what’s in your basket with us?”

  “Yeah, before we decide to take it,” Jonan added.

  After committing himself with those words he puffed out his chest and straightened his back, bringing himself to full height and breadth. Only sixteen, but he was well on his way to being one of the largest men in the village.

  Acid rose to the back of her throat as tendrils of ice snaked up her spine. The instinctive step back was already completed before the reminder to not show weakness echoed through her head. Twin smiles of new sneering malevolence broke over both their faces and transformed their countenances from naughty children to something hard and cruel and eager to hurt.

  They took a step forward. With their entire focus on her, they never sensed the tall, hulking figure that appeared behind them. Within seconds, both boys were hauled up and dangled several feet in the air.

  Relieved giddiness coursed through her. A smile she could not prevent – and didn’t want to – spread across her face. “Benton,” she said, the word a mere whisper of sound.

  “They were bothering you?” Benton’s voice was a thunderclap, deep and rough, not heard often and invoking a primal fear when it was.

  The boys cringed and remained silent. Neither their fathers’ influence nor their own strength could help them here, and like bullies everywhere, they only wanted to fight when their prey was weaker than they were.

  Nissa laughed at the sight, her earlier panic almost embarrassing when faced with the now cowed figures. “No, they were just being boys, testing limits like boys do.”

  Benton’s thin lips tightened. He seemed to be fighting some inner battle over whether to accept her words or continue on with the boys in ways that would undoubtedly give them nightmares.

  Finally he leaned over and whispered into Nathaniel’s ear. Nissa couldn’t hear the words, but Nathaniel went ghost-white and his eyes took up half his face by the time Benton pulled away. Benton finished with, “Understand?”

  Nathaniel nodded, the movements large and exaggerated.

  Benton dropped them both. The boys collapsed onto the ground. “Make your friend understand. Go home.”

  Both ran without looking back.

>   Nissa crossed her arms over her chest, though she knew the effect she was going for was ruined since she couldn’t shake the smile from her lips. Still, she had to try. “Benton, it wasn’t necessary to scare them.”

  “Be glad all I did was scare them.” He took the basket from her before he resumed his way along the path towards his cabin. With a sigh of exasperation – more affectation than true feelings – she followed him.

  Their journey was silent, a normal occurrence since Benton was not the most talkative of men. Monks who had taken vows could be said to be more loquacious. It didn’t bother her, not when the silence was threaded with warm and protective overtones, his caring and friendship palpable in the currents of the air.

  Besides, it meant she was free to ogle him to her heart’s content. Benton was currently shirtless, and a shirtless Benton was one of her favorite sights in this world.

  There were some in the village who would disagree with her, those who were concerned only with looks. Beast. That was his nickname in the village, though no one ever said it to his face. All because of his hulking mass and an abundance of scars over his face and body. But Nissa had heard enough whispers amongst the women to know she wasn’t the only one who could see past the scars to the body which otherwise was the perfect example of a powerful male, all hard muscle and massive limbs and towering strength.

  But those women would then giggle and say they would also need a sack to put over his head, since even without the scars, the kindest word anyone could use to describe his face would be “plain”.

  Well, screw them. Their little snobbery meant she had him all to herself. And she liked his face. His face was an outward display of his strength and courage, both of which he had in abundance and without which he’d never had survived the battles that had scarred him so.

  Nissa had traveled this path to his cabin so often her feed moved on autopilot and her mind had free rein to enjoy the fine specimen in front of her.

  Of course, this was the day Benton would decide to deviate from their normal routine. When he stopped and turned around to face her, Nissa couldn’t stop ogling fast and slammed into him.

  His hand gripped her upper arm to prevent her from falling.

  She placed her hands against his chest. Sure, she could claim it was to steady herself, but that would have been a big, fat lie. This gave her a valid excuse to touch him, even if only for a moment, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

  If his back was a work of art, his chest was a gift sent from heaven above, and it was really, really cruel to show her all this wonderful flesh, glistening and warm and emitting that delicious masculine scent, when she wasn’t allowed to stick her tongue out and run it over every inch of him.

  It was a sad, sad situation. She lusted after her best friend. Had for months now. Wanted to throw him to the ground and do wicked things to him that would have her branded a scarlet woman in their village. Wanted him to mount her like a bull in heat – or any other position he cared to try.

  “Where should I put it?”

  Confusion reigned for several moments as Benton’s question about the basket mixed uncomfortably with her mind’s wanderings, and it took a bit to pull the two threads apart. “Oh,” Nissa said, dropping her hands from his chest and taking a step back. “Let’s eat outside today, take advantage of the beautiful weather before autumn sets in.”

  “Hn.” In Benton-speak that meant he thought it was a fine idea, she was right that the weather couldn’t be more perfect for early fall, and he really liked the feel of her hands on him, maybe she could do it again?

  Or he could have been just clearing his throat – either one.

  Affection surged through her as she followed him to the little clearing beside his cabin, pushing the lustful thoughts aside. Lust was a newcomer in her relationship with Benton, but the affection had existed from nearly the beginning. In those early days, when she’d developed tender feelings for the scarred, solitary man, the realization had been unexpected and not welcome. Now, those feelings were the center of her existence, the touchstone her life revolved around.

  As she set out their picnic lunch, Benton began loading wood he had already chopped into a bin. Well, that explained the sweat and the shirtlessness when he’d found her. “Getting an early start this year?” Nissa asked.

  “More merchants,” came his reply, scorn a thick overlay over his words.

  “Which means?”

  “It means I have to deal with useless lumps who can’t heat their homes or feed their families without me.”

  “Benton,” she said, the scold strong in her voice. “Most of us couldn’t survive being alone in the middle of the wilderness. I wouldn’t survive a day if I was all alone, so do you think less of me?”

  “You never have to worry.”

  She paused in cutting the bread. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

  He didn’t look at her. She could almost believe he was deliberately not facing her way. “I’d never let you be alone.”

  Emotion surged inside her that went past affection, past lust. Benton didn’t need eloquence, not when the words he uttered speared through the dark places and lit her from within. She cleared her throat to modulate a voice that otherwise would tremble with emotion. “That’s good to know. But my point is, it’s been very good for the village, growing like we have. There’s even talk of building a school. I won’t believe it until I actually see it, but it would be a dream to be able to teach somewhere other than McGrudy’s barn and not have to worry about stray farm animals trampling over any lesson books or staying in the section where the roof doesn’t leak on rainy days.”

  He stopped loading wood to look straight at her. He had ice-blue eyes, so pale that in some lights they almost appeared colorless. She had heard them referred at various times as “unholy,” - “demonic,” - or even “scary as shit,” - but when he looked at her with the full force of his gaze, all it engendered in her was a desire to whimper and bare her throat in submission. “You want to teach boys like the two from today?”

  “I want to teach boys and girls, and all boys are idiots at that age.”

  From the way his jaw tightened, Nissa would bet her best dress he was grinding his teeth. “Any others upsetting you?”

  Oh no. Overprotective Benton spread a warm glow through her body, but she could not let him go on a terrorizing spree against the teenage boys of the village. Though the fathers of the teenage girls would be supportive, Nissa might find herself out of a teaching job if her students were afraid to be around her. “I can deal with my kids. Part of growing up is testing boundaries, and boys can be a little aggressive during that time. It’s nothing unusual or worth getting upset over. Weren’t you?”

  “Couldn’t be.”

  With those words Benton’s voice went beyond flat to almost lifeless. There was a story not being told. Nissa prodded. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged, going back to the wood pile. “I get aggressive, bad things happen.”

  Definitely a story, but not a good one, and not for today – not when they had a picnic spread out before them that she’d been looking forward to all week. Nissa finagled herself between him and the woodpile and gave a teasing smile up into his scarred, grim face. “I have brought absolutely delicious food for us to enjoy together, and I am not going to let you work anymore while I’m here. Go get cleaned up so we can eat.”

  He looked down at her, and though his features didn’t change, his eyes brightened, the heavy burden he carried dissolving for the moment. “Will you read to me after?”

  “Of course I will, though I’m still waiting to hear when you’re going to read to me like I’ve been asking you to do for months.” She placed her hands on his arms and stretched upwards, going on tip-toe to add a few inches of height. “Please Benton.”

  Since she was the one who had taught him how to read, he couldn’t use illiteracy as an excuse, but he had come up with every other possible reason not to fulfill her req
uest. For someone as straightforward as he was, it was almost impressive how cagey he became in his efforts to avoid the subject.

  His eyes widened the barest fraction before he turned away. “You have a beautiful voice,” he said and, not waiting for a reply, walked to the little lake behind his house.

  Nissa was as rooted to the earth as the great maple trees behind her. Benton had never complimented her in such a direct manner, and she had no idea he liked her voice. There was nothing special about it. It wasn’t too squeaky or too growly, and when she sang cats didn’t join in, but those weren’t exactly qualities to brag about. Yet, he called it beautiful.

  Her cheeks were so warm she used her cool palms to lessen the heat, and only when her hands touched the enflamed skin did she realize she was smiling. Enough of that, Nissa. You are not a schoolgirl.

  Yet she couldn’t force the smile from her face the rest of the day.

  And now the day was ending as it often did, with them sitting against a thick oak a few feet away from the lake’s edge while Nissa read. Today’s selection was love sonnets at Benton’s request, the eloquent, sometimes naughty verses stoking Nissa’s longing for the man whose head now lay in her lap.

  One hand held the book while the other stroked his thick, dark hair. As she finished reading the last sonnet, she closed the book but couldn’t quite bring herself to stop this allowable touch. “Benton?”

  He looked up at her, and for one unguarded moment his eyes shone from within with a fierce, hungry light. A shiver – part warning, part longing – snaked over her skin and left raw, exposed nerves in its wake. “Benton?”

  With lightning movements, he turned and rose to his feet, careful to keep both his gaze and his body away from her. “Sorry.”

  Her first instinct was to ask him what he was sorry for, but she caught those words behind her teeth, forbidding them to escape. Benton had been acting strange for the last two months, alternating between uncomfortable intensity and an even deeper anti-social streak than what she’d experienced from him even in those first days of their acquaintance. Instincts warned her that finding out why would change everything, and while part of her yearned for some form of change, experience shouted change hurt, and what she desired wasn’t guaranteed. She was no Pandora. She’d hold off opening that box a little longer.