"You are a useless, old coward!" Michael Carruthers rasped at the King of Kent. It was an ungodly hour of night and both men were upset with each other. Michael, for the king's seeming lack of commitment to the plans; and King Thomas, for Michael's continued belligerence and unwelcome, unannounced nocturnal visits. "You should be amassing your army and marching on the throne of Fahrlane, or do you have so little faith in the skill of your army?" Carruthers taunted.
King Thomas gave the smaller man a steely-eyed glare. "You are a lot of talk Carruthers, but you know as well as I do that the young prince alone could dispatch a great percentage of my men. He could certainly easily dispatch *you,*" King Thomas added mockingly.
"Disarmed and ambushed, he is as defenseless as any other man," Michael retorted.
"Ah yes, and who is it that has the ability to disarm and ambush him? I would like to meet such a magician!" the king hissed. "Are you truly such a dimwit? Have you even an inkling of how skilled with the sword that boy is? Why, at the age of eighteen he single-handedly put down *ten* of my best men, who were guarding the dungeon!"
"I have heard that myth," Michael drawled, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"'Tis no myth, you bloody imbecile! I was there, and I saw it happen."
"And whom were you keeping imprisoned in your dungeons?" Michael asked. "Who is it that the vile prince rescued?"
Instead of answering that question, the king posed one of this own. "Why is it that you are suddenly more bloodthirsty than usual about wanting the demise of the Fahrlane royalty? Is it perhaps the rumors circulating that the Prince will likely soon take a bride?" The king's eyes narrowed with relish. "I understand that you are fairly well-acquainted with the ravshing young beauty whom all the gossips swear has snared his most coveted heart. You wanted to marry her yourself if I am not mistaken, is that not so? Pity the Prince of Fahrlane is your competition. Your chances are all but laughable now."
The vein throbbed angrily and dangerously at Michael's temple. "Watch your tongue, King. I care not who you are. I will not hesitate to plunge a rusty dagger into your heart one unsuspecting evening," Michael said in an awful voice. "And I vow to you that those rumors of His Royal Vileness possibly wedding *my* Brenda shall never come to pass. She would rather die a thousand deaths than marry him."
"I wager it *shall* come to pass," the king said. "Your word and your predictions are pathetic, Carruthers. Not only were you a miserable failure in staying a Knight of The Realm - a position which would surely have assured us victory in our plans - but you have not managed to find a single soul in the Kingdom of Fahrlane who will join you in a plot to overthrow the monarchy. Now you cannot even hold on to your woman. You are soon to lose that angelic creation to the prince as well, and I suspect you will be dismissed from the Prince's army outright any day now. You are utterly useless as a partner. Worse than that, you are an utterly useless man, and I no longer have any interest in staging any coups with you. Yes, I covet Fahrlane more than breath oftentimes, but I do covet my life more, and your bungling bloodthirst will surely see us all wiped out of existence by the Prince and his Knights. You call me a coward, but I at least have the common sense to fear, that which is superior to me, whereas you are naught but a bloody fool, I have discovered. And I will have you know that I take your threat on my life - regardless of how pitiful it was - seriously. If you ever set foot in Kent again, you shall be slain where you stand without question or trial. Now get out of my sight, for the sight of you sickens me to untold of heights."
And with that crushing set-down of a dismissal, the King of Kent had his guards escort Michael Carruthers from the palace and toss him out of the dreary kingdom.
As he set sail on the boat that would take him back across the Baylis Ocean to Fahrlane, an enraged Michael was already plotting his vengeance upon the King of Kent. Vengeance that would not only destroy the Kingdom of Kent, but also - if things went according to plan - would gain Michael two things he coveted dearly: reinstatement with the Knights of the Realm; and Brenda Barrett as his wife.
During breakfast at the palace the next morning, a breakfast enjoyed outdoors on the lavish dining terrace, Brenda did her best to will her eyes not to seek out Jax. But seek him out they did anyway, and were disappointed to find his empty chair. How had he gotten her back to the palace? She wondered in amazement. For it was there she had awakened, in her very bedroom, refreshed from a sleep so perfect it was hard to believe it had been real. Her heart began to race as she recalled exactly where she had slept most of the night. In Windsor Castle, the Prince's home. All alone with him. Cradled in his arms in a beautiful candlelit room. Even now if she closed her eyes she could feel him beneath her, feel his arms around her, and his hands stroking through her hair. She could hear his soft breathing, hear the strong, oddly beautiful sound of his heart beating…
She shivered with a delight of wild intensity.
"Where is the Prince this morning?" Geneva was addressing the Queen.
"Well, today is the Festival, as you know, my dear, and so I am quite certain my son is seeing to all the finishing touches in the square," Queen Jane replied.
"More likely he's sleeping in from a rousing night of lovemaking with his mistress," Miranda whispered to Victoria, making sure that Brenda overheard. "You know who she is, don't you? She is that simply gorgeous creature who sang at the Danvers Ball. You remember her, Vikki, the one who could not take her eyes off of him!" Miranda chuckled.
"Oh, the opera singer?" Victoria murmured. "Yes, I did take note of how closely she pressed herself to him when they were dancing. And she certainly was giving him the most love-struck gazes I have ever seen. She's very exotic looking, isn't she? As if she comes from one of the far lands."
"The gossip is that they are completely, passionately wild for one another," Miranda whispered. "Their attraction is immense, and it's said that whenever they are near each other, they can never take their hands off of one another. It is common knowledge that even if the Prince takes a bride, he shall never in a million years give up his mistress. She, and not his bride, shall always be the recipient of his true passions."
"It almost makes one not want to be his wife," Victoria said. "For if I were his wife, I would want to be the one to share his wild passions. I hardly think I could tolerate him being wild about another woman and craving *her* whilst married to me."
"Oh, that would never do for me either," Miranda said.
Try as she might, Brenda could not block out the words her sisters were whispering. So that woman - Karina Palladin - the one with the fiery red hair, who'd been gazing at the Prince in such an intimate manner at the Danvers Ball . . . She was his mistress? She was the one who shared his...
Brenda felt a sharp stab of rebellion at the thought of that woman languishing in Jax's arms, the way she herself had been last night. Well … not quite the same way… Brenda had still had all of her clothes *on.* She entwined her fingers in frustration. Why should any of this matter to her?! Who bloody well cared if he had ten thousand beautiful, voluptuous, passionate, horrid, horrid, horrid mistresses!!
"Ah, there you are, my son!" King John said. And Brenda's eyes shot up at the mention that the Prince was there. And she cursed her heart for the traitorous thundering of joy it gave at the sight of him.
"We were wondering if we would see you at all this morning, Your Highness," Geneva said, flashing him a lovely smile.
"Unfortunately I cannot stay," he said, "as much as I would love to," he added softly, his blue-eyed gaze traveling to the direction everyone knew it would: Brenda. "I only came to abduct my sister, whose assistance I require," Jax informed them, cocking his head towards his little sister in a motion asking that she come with him.
"Festival festivities I presume?" Princess Georgina said with a grin as she excused herself from her seat and walked over to her brother.
"Yes," Jax said, distractedly, his gaze still locked with Brenda's. "Tell me, Lady Brenda," Jax said, a wickedly attractive smile gracing his lips, "did you sleep well last night?"
"Horribly," Brenda said aloofly. "The worst sleep of my life."
Jax laughed softly, letting her know he did not believe her at all, and she broke under that beguiling laughter of his, combined with those playfully seductive eyes.
"Oh, all right - wonderfully," she amended, and then added before she could think better of it, "the most perfect sleep of my life."
Everyone looked from her to Jax puzzled by what they were talking about.
"Well, you see, that is because that *mattress* was made for you," Jax told her.
Brenda rose her brows slightly and gazed at him - at that ridiculously perfect body of his that had been a most heavenly mattress indeed, and she felt the heat rushing to her cheeks.
"I'll wager you slept quite well yourself," she said with a shrug and Jax grinned at that.
"When I finally did sleep, yes. Words cannot express," he murmured, and Brenda's sisters were quite upset with the smile he then chose to bestow upon Brenda. That smile was the most heaven-sent thing the girls had ever laid eyes upon. "I shall see you later," Jax said as he turned to leave with his sister. His parting comment was addressed to all, but his eyes had only been on Brenda when he said it. And her heart, which had thundered with joy upon seeing him, now sighed with melancholy of already missing him, as he left the terrace.
Dratted love sickness, she thought. Then she turned to her father, who was seated next to her on the left.
"Papa," she whispered, "what do you know of this…er... thing that is called love sickness?"
Harlan Barrett gazed at his daughter with mild amusement. "Love sickness?"
"Yes… I…" she glanced away and then glanced back at him, "I think I have the accursed affliction!"
Harlan chuckled. "For whom, dearest?"
Brenda decided not to respond to that. "Papa, only tell me if you have heard of such a thing," she said.
"The terminology is familiar," Harlan said, stroking his chin. "It is some exotic kind of a thing, I hear tell."
"Well, how does one catch it?" Brenda wondered, perplexed. "Is it to merely gaze upon someone who your eyes find truly extraordinary?"
"My girl! Have you done such a thing?!" her father gasped in mock horror, simply unable to hide his smile of delighted amusement at his daughter's quandary. The beautiful pixie's young heart obviously wanted to fly straight to Prince Jasper, and Brenda was doing all she could to keep the wings of her unruly heart tied so it would not take this magnificent flight.
"Well it…it…is not my fault! I could hardly help it, could I?" she said defensively. "It would not have been at all proper for me to glance down at the floor when I was introduced to the man! And am I to glance away each time he crosses my path? Why, I would be forever looking up at the ceiling or down at the floor!"
Harlan laughed out loud in uproarious delight, drawing the attentions of the table.
"A joke you wish to share, Father?" Geneva asked with a curious smile at her father's merriment.
Brenda shot her father a panicked look, and he gave her a reassuring glance that he would never tell. "Oh, your sister was just wagering that she would beat me in the apple toss at the Festival," Harlan said, patting Brenda's hand, as he wiped his tears of laughter from his eyes. Then he whispered to Brenda. "My sweet girl, from what little I know of it this love sickness is not all a bad thing. I hear tell most people seem to find it quite delightful."
Brenda gazed at her father suspiciously. "I have never heard of a *delightful* affliction before, Papa. The very term seems contradictory." Then she sighed, "The thing of it is that I know that I have the blasted malady. I only want to know how to be cured of it before I . . ." she left her sentence trail off unfinished.
"Does your heart wish to take flight?" Her father asked, his voice soft and kind and far too knowing for Brenda's comfort. "You know, Brenda, the harder you try to clip its wings, the harder it will fight you to be free. It is my firm belief that the heart cannot be caged nor tamed nor controlled. 'Tis a wild and free thing, the heart. It will not be denied its happiness, nor its destiny. It will go where it belongs, no matter how you try to alter its course."
Brenda narrowed her eyes as she gazed at her father. Why, he sounded like that blasted sorcerer!
"Excuse me everyone," Brenda said sweetly, as she excused herself with a smile. She left the terrace and raced along the hallways towards the back of the palace, dodging any collisions with servants and attendants as skillfully as Princess Georgina always did.
Brenda made her way to the back of the palace, murmuring hellos to all of the many Knights she passed along the way. She made her way to the gold gates of the Enchanted Forest, where the Knight Connor stood guard.
She waved at him.
He smiled at her.
He then watched curiously as she stood next to him, leaning against the gates, and then proceeded to just stand there. Connor arched a dark brow. "Er… what are you doing, m'lady?" he asked.
"Oh, just waiting," Brenda said. "Do not let me bother you."
Connor looked more perplexed than before. "Waiting? For what are you waiting?" he asked.
"For His Highness. He is at the square right now, I believe, but he shall be back, and I know he comes here often, and I wish to wait for him because I need to go inside," she explained. "I know I am not permitted to enter without him. Please, truly, Connor. Do not be distracted by my presence. I shall not make a sound," she promised with a smile that was entirely too attractive and was far more distracting that any sound she could make.
"Lady Brenda, if you wish to enter, you may," Connor informed her. "You *are* permitted."
Brenda blinked. "No, you are mistaken, I think. I assure you, I am not permitted."
"I assure you, you are," Connor repeated.
"I am?"
"You are."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain of this?"
"The Prince told me this himself. Do you wish to enter?"
Brenda nodded, stunned by Jax's trust in her. "Thank you," she said softly.
Connor took her hand and placed it on one of the bars of the gold gate. "It is the equivalent of knocking," he explained to her. "Malvodio can discern who seeks entrance this way."
A few moments later the gate opened of its own volition, and Brenda walked through it. It closed the minute she was inside. She followed the path to the trees that she knew stood at the entrance of the Enchanted Forest, and, after bidding her hello, they parted to let her pass. Brenda made her way along the golden bricks beneath her feet, as she tried to remember the direction that would lead to Malvodio's cottage. She got to the brook and saw Simon there.
"Simon! Hello!" She called out to him.
Simon turned around and saw her. "Hello, Brenda," he said giving her a disarming smile. Then he glanced past her. "You are alone?"
"Yes, I need help!" she said, grabbing hold of his hands desperately.
"What kind of help?" he asked, gesturing for her to take a seat either on the sparkling rocks or the emerald green grass. Brenda opted for the pretty rock. Simon stood in front of her.
"Your father told me that I have something known as love sickness," she revealed to Simon. "My own father seems to think I have it, too, and *I* surely am convinced that I do."
"Love sickness," Simon murmured solemnly as if it were a dreaded disease.
"Yes, you know of it obviously?" she asked, chewing on her lip nervously.
Simon nodded. "'Tis a treacherous thing," he said, but he was smiling when he said it, which Brenda found odd.
"Simon, I must be cured of this thing immediately! Can you help me? Do you know what the cure is? Your father hinted of it once to me, but he said the oddest thing. He said the cure was very *pleasant.* And how can that be? I have never tasted pleasant medicine in my life!" she insisted.
Simon nodded. "Well, you see, I do not think there is any medication you can take for this particular affliction, Brenda. Rather, there is a ritual you must perform to rid yourself of the love sickness."
"A ritual?" Brenda repeated, not sure she was going to like this at all.
"Yes. Now let me see if I can remember this correctly," Simon said, pacing back and forth in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back. "To banish the love sickness one must kiss the cause of the sickness thrice on a moonlit night during the silver rain," he said, nodding in affirmation as he stopped in front of her.
"*Kiss* him? I have to *KISS* him?" she groaned.
"Thrice."
"And that is supposed to *cure* me? I don't see how it will do that!" she insisted, getting up from the rock and pacing the way Simon had been moments before. Kissing Jax would not cure her; it would make it worse! Or actually *better,* depending upon how one viewed the situration.
"Well, it has to be done in the moonlight in the silver rain, remember," Simon added.
"What on earth is the silver rain?" she asked in exasperation.
"It is a phenomenon that only occurs here," He said, gesturing to the surrounding forest. "It is to occur this Saturday, in fact. That is your birthday, is it not?"
Brenda nodded absently. "This sounds like madness," she said skeptically. "How can a kiss make me *not* love him when his kisses are so . . .
"So . . . what?" Simon prodded, his eyes innocent.
Brenda glanced at him." Er… never mind. Are you *sure* that this will work? Are you absolutely *certain?*"
Simon folded his harms across his chest. "Well," he said, tapping his forefinger against his chin, "it will either cure you of it, or it will make it ten times worse. You know, I never really do recall which," he told her with an apologetic shrug.
"Simon!!" Brenda groaned, hitting her head against his chest several times. "If this does not work I shall come back here and *insist* your father turn you into a frog!" she vowed, and then she turned to leave, as a smiling Simon watched her go.
As the sun began to melt into the sky of late afternoon, the Festival was in full, merry swing. The subjects of Fahrlane milled about the huge square contentedly, stopping at the booths to buy food or pastries or beverages or trinkets. Or watching in delight as the jesters and acrobats put on quite a comical show, or clapping their hands as dancers swirled about the court. And in the midst, surrounded by numerous Knights, was the Royal Family, whom everyone was happy to behold, although the most curious stares were saved for the fetching, dark-haired girl, from whom Prince Jasper could scarce tear his magnificnet blue eyes.
This girl had to be the one that all the gossips were wagering would end up being the Prince's bride. And so the subjects of Fahrlane scrutinized her thoroughly, and surely did like what they saw of the stunningly beautiful, young girl, who had a bewitching spirit, a mischievous streak, a thrilling wit, and heart so sweet it was difficult to trust in such sweetness. They also took note of how stubborn she was, too, when the Prince forbade her from entering the horse race because whomever came in last customarily went through a line of men and was swatted on the rear. And Jax knew if any man touched Brenda in that manner that he would have to hurt him, and he didn't want the Festival turning into a vigil for the injured. Insulted that he would think she would ever come in *last,* of all things, Brenda had managed to trade clothes with a village girl, borrow a cap from a village boy, and sneak her way into the contest, which she, of course, had won, mortifying the other contestants, who were all male and were aghast that a young girl had beat the pants off of them.
Her trickery and her mischievous behavior - which could have caused her harm, had outraged her family - not to mention that it was outright disregard for what the Prince had asked of her. And everyone expected that His Highness would give her a good tongue thrashing for disobeying him. But he had merely shot her a grin that looked suspiciously like one of pure admiration and pride and had suggested she get her clothes back, as he was not very partial to what she was wearing.
Laughing, Brenda had replied that she really wanted the village girl to keep the fancy dress since she had been so kind as to help Brenda in her little scheme. And she had then gone back to the palace with three of the Knights to change into a new dress and return to the festivities.
And now Brenda sat, watching the acrobats with smiling eyes, but completely aware that to her right, Jax was gazing at her, and had been for a very long time.
"I really wish you would stop that," she said, elbowing him in the ribs and then suppressing a giggle.
Caught off-guard by the connection of her elbow to his ribs, Jax murmured a low "ow" and then laughed. "You do *not* wish I would stop that," he contradicted her.
Brenda gazed at him and grinned. "You deign to think you know my own mind, Your Highness?"
"I am not speaking of your mind," he responded. "The part of you that I know intimately is a bit lower than that."
Brenda's eyes flew open and Jax grinned wickedly. "Not quite that low," he whispered, as he indicted it was her heart to which he was referring.
"My heart has never even made your acquaintance, for your information," she informed him, wondering if perhaps *he* were victim of this love sickness, too? It would certainly explain his wonderful, unfailing attentiveness towards her which oftentimes felt like a most flattering hot pursuit. And it would also explain the way they gravitated towards one another constantly.
Jax just gave her an enigmatic glance, which seemed to challenge her statement, and then he gazed away from her momentarily to scan the crowd for any sign of that slime Carruthers. The man had apparently been lying low because Jax had been looking for him since early this morning before the sun had even risen.
Sitting in between Geneva and their mother, Kayla was absorbed with one particular jester, who was playing with a bright pink ball. He was juggling the pink ball with two black ones when the pink one fell into Kayla's lap. She laughed and the jester made a comical display of begging for the ball back. Kayla was ready to toss it down to him, but he folded his hands together and bade her kiss the ball for him for good luck first. With a giggle the six-year-old pressed her lips to the bright pink ball, unaware of the deadly toxin it was passing into her system, as the dark eyes of the jester left her to momentarily gaze malevolently at Brenda, who was laughing at how the Prince was toying with the curls at the back of her hair. When the jester's eyes hit the Prince, the malevolence deepened ten-fold, and then he returned his gaze to the little girl, who had indeed kissed the deadly ball - and had thus signed her death warrant. The jester caught the ball in his gloved hands as the cute child tossed it back to him, waving at him. And then he made his way out of the festival, discarded the foolish get-up into a bag and then waited for the cover of darkness to sail into Kent and plant the incriminating poisoned ball and jester's outfit in the palace of King Thomas.
The poison was slow working, but impossible to stop once it had begun its nefarious work. In two weeks time little Kayla Barrett would be dead. The palace physicians would discover it was a poison grown in Kent, which had killed her, and Michael would make sure all traces led to King Thomas, who would be beheaded for this crime. Yes, Michael himself would play the hero in finding the killer of the sweet, little child, and for that he would win Brenda's heart, and the swine Prince's eternal gratitude.
On Brenda's eighteenth birthday she was completely out of sorts. Rumors were everywhere that the Prince was going to make some sort of major announcement today. And her sisters were snickering about how that "announcement" was probably his choice of a bride.
"I don't think so," Brenda had dissented from their shared opinion. "Jax - I mean, His Highness has three months in which to choose. It has only been a *week!* He . . .he could not *possibly* have had enough time to get to know us all as of yet. That is sheer lunacy!"
"Oh, stop being so disgustingly coy!" Miranda had snapped. "From the moment he saw you - the real you - there has never honestly been any chance for the rest of us. He has wanted you and *only* you from the very beginning, Brenda, and he has made that quite clear in the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, the way he gazes into your eyes when the two of you are dancing at the balls…"
"Not to mention the way he all but ignores the rest of us and stares so unabashedly at you over every meal," Victoria added.
"I have to agree, Brenda," Geneva chimed in. "You would have to be terribly dense not to realize that you are the one he wants and means to have."
Brenda placed her hands on her hips. "I see. So you have all decided to make up his mind for him, have you? It is *his* choice, not yours. Just because you are so convinced that he plans to choose me does not make it so!" she finished, trying to convince herself that this was true.
"Running scared, are you?" Miranda taunted. "You're attracted to him, aren't you? Madly. Desperately," her oldest sister opined. "True, you came here with no aspirations of having anything to do with him, but anyone can see that all that has changed now. You probably would *love* to marry him, and yet you know all about his history with mistresses, don't you? You know that if you become his wife, you will have everything - everything *but* te one thing you will want the most -- his passionate heart, which will always belong to another. It somehow ruins the fantasy of marrying the brave, gorgeous young Prince and living happily ever after, doesn't it, little sister?"
Brenda tired to act unaffected, but so much of what her sister was saying was the truth. Brenda had never wanted to marry Prince Jasper, and then one day it had just suddenly become the *only* thing she wanted. And this thing about him and his irresistibility to other women bothered her more than she would ever admit to. That was when she knew the love sickness had gotten her. But she would put an end to that today, she vowed as she got dressed for the birthday celebration. Before Jax made this so-called announcement, she would perform the ritual and rid herself of this love sickness. Otherwise, she feared that if he were to indeed say that it was she he wanted to marry, she would not be able to laugh him off and tell him he was absurd and had better choose someone else because she had no intention of filling the role of Princess bride. Afflicted with this unusually strong strain of the exotic love sickness as she was, she would likely squeal with joy, run to his arms, cover him with ardent kisses, and ask if they could be wed within the hour. Brenda rolled her eyes at the image of herself as such a love-struck fool, but then a cold shudder ran through her as she wondered if success with the ritual to banish the love sickness would in turn magically spark the love between Jax and Geneva that Malvodio had alluded could happen. Brenda's resistance to this notion was a strong as ever, and she realized she'd rather never be cured than let that happen.
She sat down and took a deep breath. This was insanity! If she did not perform the ritual, she would surely end up married to the bloody man! "If I perform it," she said logically, "I will not love him any longer, and so even if he does end up falling in love with Geneva, I will not *care* because these feelings I currently have will all be gone."
At least she prayed they would all be gone. Because if they were not, and she had to see Jax with her sister, she feared she would go quite mad. In her current advanced state of love sickness, the thought of Jax with *any* other woman was maddening beyond belief. Worse than that, it literally made her heart hurt. It was simply, utterly, unequivocally unacceptable.
Jax, who was carrying around a sleepy, little Kayla, was aware that Brenda was doing her best to avoid him at this birthday celebration. His entire family was present and as determined as she was to avoid him was as determined as he was to make sure she met everyone. He saw her slipping behind one of the marble pillars of the small ballroom, but she was easy to spot in the beautiful, emerald green gown with its scattered sparkles, and Jax had a sixth sense about her anyway.
Jax handed off the sleepy, little girl to her father.
"I don't understand why she tires so easily and sleeps for so very long these days," Harlan murmured with a shrug, as he kissed Kayla's forehead and smiled down at the now sleeping child, her dark, long lashes resting against her soft cheeks. Jax smiled down at his special, little munchkin, too, and brushed his lips against her cheek before Harlan left to carry her upstairs to bed.
"Is that the girl whom I hear has stolen your heart?" Jax's cousin Philip teased him, as he sipped from his glass of champagne.
"That little one is indeed dear to my heart, but, no, she is not the one who has stolen it," Jax responded with a grin. "Would you like to meet *the* girl? Come with me," Jax said, as he led his cousin Philip over to the pillar where Brenda thought she was hiding. Philip followed behind Jax, as Jax stopped by the pillar and reached his arms about it, connecting with the soft satin material of Brenda's dress as his arms snaked around curvaceous hips and rested against a perfect stomach.
A little sound escaped her, giving her away, as if the feel of her had not already done that.
Brenda touched his hands that were wrapped around her waist, and then slowly peered around the pillar and encountered those blue eyes that could slay her every time.
"Oh, hello," she said. "Is this *your* pillar, then? I'm sorry, I shall just go and find a vacant one," she said, turning to flee. But Jax held onto her, bringing her back to him in a series of twirls as if they were dancing, landing her smack in his embrace. He laughed softly down at her. She scoweld prettily up at him.
Philip grinned at the entertaining antics between them, as he waited to be introduced to the blithesome and bewitching young girl, who was even now squirming as if she wanted to escape Jax for dear life.
"Philip, this restless, young beauty you see before you is Lady Brenda Barrett, sister to those whom you have already been introduced. Brenda, this is my cousin, Philip Renquist, Earl of Desborough."
"Oh, hello. It is very nice to meet you," Brenda said, trying to recall if she needed to curtsey in front of an Earl.
Philip just waved that off as he shot her a smile. "How do you do, Brenda?" Philip said, kissing her hand. "Oh, and happy birthday."
"Thank you." The window just over Philip's left shoulder, where she saw a gentle rain falling, distracted Brenda's eyes. It was raining! Yes! It was time to do this ritual or forever hold her peace! "Your Highness," she said, turning to Jax with a stubborn determination sparking her eyes. "You will kindly meet me in the Enchanted Forest in five minutes!" she all but commanded, and then yanked out of his embrace and fled from the room, as a bewildered Philip and an amused and puzzled Jax watched her run out on her own party. Into the rain no less.
"Jax!" Philip said, gripping his cousin's shoulder. "All right, yes the girl borders on the positively divine, but you cannot tell you that you mean to *marry* her?"
"I most certainly do," Jax responded.
Philip blinked in disbelief. "But, she is dangerously impulsive and free-spirited, cousin. How on earth will you ever be able to control such a wild, young thing? And forgive me for saying this, she does not even seem to ... like you very much! It was not my imagination that she was in fact *hiding* from you, was it?"
A smile tugged at Jax's mouth. "Believe me when I tell you that she loves me," he said. "*That* is why she was hiding from me."
Philip scratched his head. "Oh, so then I suppose if she did *not* love she would be eagerly seeking you out every moment of the day and flying happily into your arms? Do you realize how *absurd* that reasoning is? It makes no sense, Jax."
"I have been told that love never does - make sense that is. However, that does not make it any less real or any less prefect or any less worth the pursuit, no matter how maddening said pursuit can end up being."
Philip shook his head in amazement. "Good god, Jasper, you are a besotted pup! Either that or the pursuit of this ridiculously beautiful girl has made you clinically mad!" Philip exclaimed with a sly grin.
Jax returned the grin and headed towards the staircase. "I think my five minutes are nearly up. I would not wish to enrage the ridiculously beautiful girl I am in pursuit of," Jax murmured, as he gave his cousin a little salute and headed up the stairs towards the back palace doors that would lead him to the secret garden.
The rain fell as Brenda waited just beyond the trees, at the beginning of the gold brick walkway inside of the Enchanted Forest. So far the rain looked quite ordinary to her, though. She hoped it would turn silver soon so that everything would work.
As if reading her mind, the rain slowly began to turn from clear white droplets to shimmering silver ones. The remarkable sight transfixed Brenda. It was like liquid diamonds falling from the sky. The fact that she was getting all wet did not bother her in the least. She wondered if Jax was going to leave her standing out here in the rain, though, to teach her a lesson about being bold enough to dare to order the Prince about. Or would he actually come here?
She had her answer in the next instant when the trees parted behind her and then closed again, and she saw him approaching. The sight of him, wet from the rain and breathtakingly beautiful - because he was born that way - made the earth seem to shift beneath her feet.
The very thought of you makes my heart sing
Like an April breeze on the wings of spring
And you appear in all your splendor
My one and only love
Brenda ignored her thundering heart to gaze around to see where the source of that music was coming from. But she saw no one, and yet she had to remember that the forest *was* enchanted. Why it could be the very air itself singing the seductive tune. And then all at once she knew that it was in fact the rain that was doing it. The silver rain . . .
"You wanted to see me?" Jax said when he stood in front of her.
Brenda could think of nothing but how close he was to her, and how insanely attractive he looked, and how her heart was thundering like a thousand horses running wild in rainstorm. Not to mention her blood was all but singing in her veins.
"Brenda?" he said, and she felt his hand tip her chin up, capturing her in his magical blue gaze.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to just do this thing and get it done! Kiss him three times in the moonlight in the silver rain. She opened her eyes to make sure the moon was out there somewhere, and there it was. She took a deep breath and placed her hands on his arms. The electricity shot between them in an instant and Brenda shivered with delight. Then she slowly slid her arms up and around his neck.
Jax arched a golden brow and gazed down at her with eyes both intense and curious.
Just three kisses, she told herself. She could do that. Just three quick little kisses. 1, 2, 3 -- just like that. Oh, but she knew… She knew once her lips touched his…
Jax could easily sense what she wanted to do. He was curious about her hesitation and her seemingly having to ready herself to kiss him, though. That was rather unlike her. Kissing him was as natural as breathing for her, he had known that from their very first kiss -- the one she had initiated in the garden. Deciding it was his turn to take things into his own hands and seal their destiny once and for all, he cupped her face with both of his hands and slowly, slowly brought his lips down onto hers, as the silver rain fell around them and upon them.
The shadows fall and spread their mystic charms
In the hush of night, while you're in my arms
I feel your lips so warm and tender
My one and only love
The world spun deliciously out of control the minute his lips touched hers, and passion's floodgates wasted no time in opening for them both. His lips were like a heat-seeking magnet she could not resist if her life depended on it. And three kisses were passed before she knew it. She tingled everywhere, from her burning lips down to her toes. Her blood ran hot inside as she became lost in the passioante mood that had so easily enraptured them both at first touch. She had lost count of the amount of kisses they had shared, although she knew it was *far* beyond the required three. She also knew that the ritual was a bust. If anything, the love sickness had indeed increased ten-fold, although it felt more like one hundred-fold. It had not gone away at *all*, she relaized with a little sigh, although she was not sure whether it was resingnation that this blasted destiny had ensnared her, or the fact that Jax had just done something *truly* sensational inside of her mouth with his tongue that had brought forth the sigh. Her heart was flying, like her father had said it would. Flying straight to her Prince. She could not stop it.
She broke away from a particularly intoxicating swirl of his tongue to breathlessly ask him, "Jax, do you hear that?" she asked. "The music? I think it's coming from the *rain!*" she said in confused amamzement.
He didn't hear anything. "No," he said quietly, his eyes doing remarkable things to her as he held her in a gaze that could set the entire ocean on fire. "Not that I could hear anything over the thunder of my heart anyway. I can barely even hear the rain," he confessed with a little grin.
She smiled at his sweet confession, and her smile was too much to resist. He ran his fingers over her wet, warm lips, whispered something inaudible, and then sweetly, swiftly captured her lips again with his, gracing her with a litany of tiny, erotic kisses, and then sliding his arms around her and wrapping her up in an embrace that made her melt into him. He drew her so close to him that their heartbeats raced in sensual unison as his kiss deepened and mutual moans of surging pleasure were softly expelled by them both. His tongue stroked slowly against hers; hers stroked against his in return, sizzling and igniting their destined passions for one another. Oh, the things he did to her, she thought dreamily as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and stood on her tiptoes to deepen their scandalous kisses even further. Her soft, curvaceous body meshed against his hard, muscular one, and the combination was a knee-buckling bliss for them both. It was wondrous. It was perfect.
Jax could not hear the music, but the raindrops were singing to Brenda. Singing a truth she supposed she could no longer deny.
The touch of you is like heaven
A heaven that I've never known
The look in your eyes
The one you can't disguise
Tells me that you are my own
You fill my eager heart with such desire
Every kiss from you, sets my soul on fire
I give myself in sweet surrender
My one and only love
Her enthusiastic, wildly arousing response to him was something Jax knew he could not withstand much longer. He broke away from her, getting a little thrill at the disappointed look in her love-dazed eyes.
He kissed a heart around her face again, as he had done once before. Ah, she had been so worth the wait. "You look beautiful in the rain," he whispered to her, stroking her wet hair.
She was out of breath and felt a tad off center by the heady, blazing happiness that refused to leave her be, combined with the thrilling excitment their sensual passions had stirred so vibranty within her. She also felt so entranced by him and so aware of what he was to her now and what she was to him. "So do you," she said, and then she hesitated a moment and then took his face in her hands, leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed a heart around his face as he had just done to her.
Jax knew exactly what she was saying.
"We have to go back inside now," he said to her, still in that soft, alluring voice. "And when we do I have something that I am going to ask you," he told her, gazing down at her expectantly.
Brenda knew exactly what *he* was saying. She was in love with him - she knew that now -- her heart had flown away. She wanted him; she wanted to *be* with him, but blast it, she hated feeling as if the masked face of destiny was controlling her and she had no choices in the matter! She just really did not like being told what to do. Not even if all mighty *destiny* was doing the telling.
"Jax… I . . .regardless of the way I...ummm . . . feel about you -- I simply do not think I can . . ."
"Shh," he said, pressing his finger against her lips and gazing down into her stubborn, beautiful brown eyes. "Kiss me quick, Brenda."
She didn't hesitate, their lips having a soft, heavenly collision of brief, sparkling passion that just dazzled their senses. "I would advise you not to analyze things too much. Just remember that kiss when I ask you what I intend to ask you," he said as he took her hand and they left the forest. "And remember this - that you cause *this* in me," he said, taking her hand and placing it over his heart, which was racing as madly as her own. "And remember this also," he added, leaning over to kiss her ear and then whisper into it. "I know I have only known you for a week. I know the sky is blue. I know today is Saturday. And as surely as I know those things, I know that I love you… Only you… That I could never love anyone but you… That I *will* never love anyone but you. Knowing that, how can you possibly refuse me and sentence me to a loveless life? You are too sweet to do that. I do not think you can do that to me. I do not think you *will* do that to me." He kissed her ear again, "And besides, I know that you love me in the same way." She felt his hand caress her face, and she melted inside. "When all is said and done that is what I count on the most, Brenda."
Brenda's heart seemed to trip over itself several times, and *she* nearly tripped as well when he unexpectedly whispered those words to her. And she wasn't exactly sure how she managed to breathe properly - let alone breathe at all - as they raced back to the palace, hand-in-hand, through the cool, gentle rain.
Song Credit: "My One and Only Love" Written by Robert Mellin and Guy Wood, performed by Sting on the Leaving Las Vegas soundtrack
Song Credit: "Storybook" written by Frank Wildhorn and Nan Knighton, available on the album entitled The Scarlet Pimpernel on Angel Records.