When Brenda walked into the grand bedroom she would be occupying in the palace during her family's stay there, she found all of her sisters, except for Kayla, waiting for her. They stood like a human wall, arms crossed, none of them looking too pleased with her.
"We need to have a nice sisterly little chat, Brenda," Miranda said, obviously speaking for them all.
It was 11:30, and all Brenda wanted to do was go to bed. She was sure she must be coming down with something, as she recalled how hot, breathless, and dizzy she had become when she was dancing with the Prince.
"Can't we have this sisterly chat tomorrow?" Brenda groaned, as she stepped inside the bedroom and began the task of unlacing her dress.
"No, it must be now," Victoria said. "We want the truth from you, Brenda Veronica Barrett."
Brenda gazed at Geneva, who said nothing, but looked at her expectantly.
"What?" Brenda asked, not knowing what they all wanted from her.
"Brenda, why must you pretend not to be interested in His Highness, when you so obviously are?" Geneva wanted to know. "At least let us know your true intentions so we are not lulled into thinking you are not competing for his affections with us, when in truth you are."
Brenda stared at them all in disbelief. "You all know perfectly well I do not want him to choose me!" she said.
"Oh, rubbish!" Victoria said, waving her hand. "If that were true, you would not have shown him your true self. The man's eyes rolled out of his beautiful face when he saw you. You *had* to know how he would react to seeing you as you truly are," she accused.
"Is it that you don't want him, but you don't want any of *us* to have him either? Or do you just enjoy having him panting after you like a starving pup! " Miranda asked, her eyes staring hard at her sister.
"You are all out of your minds!" Brenda said, not in the mood for this silliness. "I do not want him, I tell you! And I only gave up my disguise because he assured me he does not want me either," she revealed to them. She would keep secret his confession about not wanting any of them either, however, so that the Prince could make his plan work.
"When did he tell you he did not want you?" Geneva asked, sitting at the foot of the bed.
"When he first met me," Brenda replied. "When we were formally introduced."
"But that was when he saw you in disguise," Victoria pointed out. "Of course he would not have wanted you then, no man with functioning eyes would have. You could not stand that, could you, Brenda? You could not stand to have him looking at you as if you were repulsive, and so you took off the disguise so that you could bewitch him and be the center of attention."
Brenda slipped out of her dress and tossed it on the bed in frustration. "You are speaking nonsense, Victoria." Then she gazed at her twin. "Geneva, you are of this mind, too?" she asked, incredulously.
Geneva looked uncertain. "Well," she began, "I did see the way he looked at you when he first saw you. He wanted to run from the sight of you, surely. But I see the way he looks at you now, Brenda. He ignores us all whenever you are near. It is not fair! Surely, you are not going to tell me you don't see how attracted to you he is?"
"He is not," Brenda said, suddenly wondering if she was being a fool to really believe that. After all, the way he had been looking at her at the dinner table . . .
"For reasons I cannot even begin to fathom, he is madly desirous of you, Brenda. Any fool can see that you are going to be his choice," Miranda snapped. "That is not even up for debate. What we wish to know from you, most duplicitous sister, is what you intend to do about his obvious affection for you?"
"Yes, will you be rebuffing him, which is what you *should* be doing since you claim so vehemently not to want him?" Victoria said, spelling it out.
Brenda was feeling hot with anger and embarrassment over everyone being so sure he was so enamored of her. Why would they think this with such certitude? Perhaps they mistook the meaning of that certain look and smile he gave her, much the same way she herself had mistook it. "I do not want to marry him. I will *not* marry him. And furthermore, he has no desire to marry me. You are sadly mistaken if you think he does," she informed them.
"He has told you this?" Victoria pressed. "Even *after* he has seen the real you?"
"Yes," Brenda responded, and then she realized that was not quite true. Each time she had asked him about their discussion and if he had changed his mind, his response had been that he still wished to turn off her sisters. He had never said anything about *her*. Was that intentional, she wondered suspiciously?
"That is not a very convincing yes," Geneva said.
"Why is it that you and His Highness are always whispering together?" Miranda said.
"Yes, what were the two of you speaking about?" Geneva asked. "He barely can prolong a conversation with the rest of us, but talks endlessly with you, Brenda." Then Geneva got a thoughtful look on her face. "Even when you were dressed so atrociously, and looked so horrid he conversed with you at length," she recalled. "Even before he had any physical desire for you at all. Most odd really," she murmured.
Brenda wanted to just tell them exactly what she and the Prince had spoken about and get them all to leave her be. They were like a gang of scratching cats! But if they knew of the Prince's plans in advance, then they would not be fooled by his efforts and would not be turned away from their desire for him. He would then perhaps *have* to select one of them as a bride, after all. And there was still the chance that he might select her if he was forced to choose. No, she had to make sure that he got his way, and they all left him alone so this could be over, the Prince could get what he wanted -- which was to stay single -- and they could all go home.
"He wanted to know why I had disguised my appearance," Brenda said with a shrug.
"What did you tell him?" Miranda queried.
Brenda walked over to the window and parted the curtains, gazing out at the beautiful, moonlit expanse of the palace grounds. "I told him that I did not want him to choose me," Brenda said softly, as her eyes followed a figure exiting the palace. It was Prince Jasper, and he was headed towards the gates of the Enchanted Forest. He had changed his clothes and was now wearing snug, black breeches, made from the finest cloths, and a deep-blue shirt, which he wore very casually for one so regal. His sword was sheathed at his side, and Brenda did recall hearing that whenever he left the premises of the palace or his own castle, his sword was always with him. She had to wonder why, considering he was a laughable swordsman. It was not as if he had any idea how to actually make use of the magnificent weapon he carried.
She watched as he stopped to exchange words with the guard at the gate. And then Jax slid a large golden key into the lock, the gates opened, and he passed through them. Brenda watched him; watched how power and grace exuded from his every movement; watched how the richness of the moonbeams played with his gold hair, and even seemed to make his golden-bronze skin shimmer . . .
She marveled at the way his clothing fit him to perfection. It was as if the clothes themselves adored him, she thought with a little smile. She'd never seen a man whose attire seemed so tailor-made for his body. His body . . . She recalled the sensation of feeling the muscles of his arms beneath his shirt when she had gripped him at one point during that spell of odd dizziness while they were dancing.
Her sisters were still talking to her, interrogating her, but she was tuning them out as she watched Jax, fascinated by what an utterly striking man he truly was. Many a woman in the Kingdom -- and other Kingdoms -- spent every waking hour dreaming of him. *She* was not one of these silly women, of course, but she supposed she could understand why so many chose such a pleasant -- and she had to confess, arousing -- way to pass the time. She watched him beneath her thick, dark lashes, until he disappeared from her vision.
"Brenda, have you all at once gone DEAF?" Miranda demanded. "Pay attention, we are speaking with you! Now, we want to know what His Highness said to you when you told him you did not wish him to choose you."
Brenda turned away from the window, perplexed to feel some of those same symptoms she had felt before -- the hot, flushed feeling, the strange tingles harassing her body . . .
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" she said, returning her attention to her inquisitors.
"Was the Prince upset to learn you were so firmly set against his choosing you?" Victoria repeated.
"No," Brenda said. "He wasn't upset about it at all. I think he found it quite funny, and he was actually relieved. Now, if you all don't mind I would like to go to sleep. I think I'm coming down with something," she murmured, feeling her flushed skin.
As her sisters at last left her in peace, Brenda heard Miranda murmur angrily to Victoria. "I know what she's coming down with all right. A good old-fashioned case of primal lust! She's lying, you know! She wants him as much as we all do!"
Brenda shut the door and searched for one of her nightgowns. Lust? Miranda was out of her skull! Annoyed with all of her sisters, and wondering what she was coming down with, Brenda slipped into her nightclothes and got into the bed. It was the most heavenly bed she had ever lain in -- a soft, large mattress; beautiful sheets made from the most exquisite cream-colored silk. She could sleep here forever, she thought with a smile. As she closed her eyes, she wondered curiously why the Prince was going into the forbidden Enchanted Forest all-alone at this hour of the night?
Michael Carruthers was in a foul mood.
He did not like to be kept waiting, and the King of Kent was doing exactly that. Keeping him waiting. While King Thomas was off in a bedchamber, carrying on with a young strumpet, Michael was made to wait in the unimpressive drawing room, gazing blandly at pictures of the Kent royal ancestry - the Norwiss'. They were a homely lot, these Norwiss', Michael thought. It was just one more reason why the King of Kent hated the royal family Jacks so. Not only was the kingdom of Fahrlane more beautiful, vaster, richer, happier, but the royal family Jacks was a comely line. Prince Jasper and Princess Georgina were both visions to behold, while King Thomas' only son, the scrawny, hawk-nosed Prince Bertrand, was decidedly more attractive when his head was bagged.
Carruthers got up and paced the chilly room. Why was it that Fahrlane, a Kingdom just across the sea, had such far superior weather to Kent? He wondered irritably. Fahrlane had wonderful springs and summers, lovely autumns, and merry winters. But here, it rained often and was dank and chilly. The skies were perpetually gray and morose -- as were the kingdom and the people.
As if it were not bad enough that he had to be kept here waiting while King Thomas had a late night romp, Michael's thoughts were bitter at the realization that even now his Brenda was inside the walls of the palace across the sea. She was probably snugly luxuriating beneath the finest silk sheets in a massive bed with gold posts. She probably liked it, too, he thought, feeling the need to spit -- liked the feel of those silken sheets against her soft, golden skin.
And the Prince -- Micheal could only iamgine how *his* eyes had devorured her with ravenous delight. His internal fury increased. He wondered how Brenda, in turn, had reacted to meeting Prince Jasper? Had she been unimpressed by the stunning blonde prince with the fathomless eyes of ever-changing blue? Or had she been like most of her predictable gender and turned into a lustful pile of hormonal mush at the sight of him? For her sake, he hoped it was not the latter. He would never relinquish his woman to that prince. Never. He would see her dead first.
Boiling over with impatience and an increasingly dark mood, Carruthers was about to leave Castle Kent when King Thomas at last entered the drawing room. He didn't look like a man who'd had a great romp, Michael noticed. But then the King was not known for his sexual prowess. It had likely been merely a decent romp, if that. Women only slept with him because he had power. He was the King of the dreary Kingdom after all.
"You have been waiting long, Michael?" King Thomas asked.
Carruthers' dark eyes shot daggers at the King of Kent. "You know I have," he snapped. "I take it you are fulfilled?" he sneered, already being able to discern that the King's satisfaction had been marginal at best.
King Thomas narrowed his pale brown eyes at the Fahrlane foot soldier. The demotion from the Prince's Knights of the Realm was a bitter setback to their plan, and his patience with the short, dark-haired Fahrlanean waned daily. "I hope you have come here to tell me that you have found others who will join you in banding against the Prince of that fair land across the ocean from whence you come."
Michael's face was sullen. "I have found none," he admitted. "It is impossible to find anyone who wishes to harm the Prince in any manner! They are all besotted with the swine!"
King Thomas sighed loudly in irritation. "Then what the devil brings you to my home at this ungodly time of night, Carruthers?" he demanded, his tolerance level extremely low. He'd had a miserable bout of sex; it was yet another gray, rainy day; and the new city walls of Fahrlane were nearly completed. Soon he would not even have the pleasure of glancing across the ocean to see that magnificent kingdom that he so desperately wanted to be his.
"I've come because I tire of your games, Sire," Michael Carruthers said stonily. "You tell me the way to bring down the Kingdom of Fahrlane lies beyond the gates of the Enchanted Forest behind the palace. You tell me all I need do is devise a way to breach that fortress and capture what lies within, and give it to you in order for the royal family to be crushed. And yet you never once have told me *what* it is I am to capture. You never told me what it is there that can empower us and destroy them if we take it away. I came here tonight to get that answer from you. Tell me *now,* Sire, for I will not leave without the answer," Carruthers said crossing his arms across his chest. "What is it that lies beyond the gates of the Enchanted Forest?"
The night was warm, quiet, and beautiful as Jax made his way through the lush beauty of the Enchanted forest. The trees bid him good-evening, and he nodded at them in return as they moved, exposing a pathway paved in dazzling bricks of gold. As Jax passed through it, the trees converged back to their original positions, hiding all traces of the pathway to a place of enchantment.
The stars above suddenly became brighter, and there were many more to gaze upon than anywhere else in the Kingdom. The grass, as green as emeralds, swayed delicately in the breeze -- a breeze scented of vanilla this evening. The moon shone with a brighter intensity here, and its luminous reflection glittered in the brook, where tranquil, white swans floated about. Soft, whitish-blue cloud rings encircled the shimmering moon, and night birds flew by overhead, their glow-in-the-dark wings, beautifying the sky.
The Sorcerer, Malvodio -- grandson of the legendary Merlin -- stood by the brook, his hands behind his back, walking back and forth, as he observed his son, Simon, as the 20-year-old attempted to cast the spell of colors.
Simon concentrated and cast his hands over the water in the brook, which turned a ghastly shade of bile-green. Simon groaned and ran one hand through his shimmering pale-gold hair.
"Not what you were going for, I hope," his father said with a shake of his head.
"I was going for silver," Simon said, gazing down at the mess he'd made.
"Try it again, Simon, " Malvodio sighed, and then, without even turning around he said, "Good evening, young Jasper. What brings you here to see us this night?"
Simon turned around and saw Jax and grinned. "Your Highness," he said, bowing with a humorous flourish.
Jax grinned right back at him. "I'd get back to practicing my craft, if I were you, Simon," he said, gazing at the hideous green waters.
"Your sister is not with you?" Simon asked casually, as he changed the water from green to an equally hideous shade of rusty-orange.
"Concentrate, my boy!" Malvodio said.
"Gina is not with me," Jax said. "But I will make sure to tell her you said hello," he added.
"I think he'd much prefer to tell her himself," Malvodio murmured to Jax, as they sat down by the large, gem-like, sparkling rocks that surrounded the brook. "You are feeling restless this evening?" he inquired, since the Prince normally visited in the daytime, not the night.
"Something has happened," Jax said, and from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, Malvodio already knew. Jax had met her.
"I can't give you any love spells," he said, his rich silver hair blowing gently in the vanilla-scented night breeze. "She will have to want you on her own."
Jax gazed at the sorcerer as if he were out of his mind. "I would not have it any other way," he said, insulted that the wizard would think Jax would ever need any silly love spells. "And it shall be so."
"Indeed," Malvodio said with a smile. "You are sure it is her?"
"Yes. I felt all the things you said that I would," he said, recalling the things he had felt at first sight of Brenda. As frightful as she looked, he had felt the things Malvodio had said he would when the one girl he could not live without would enter his life; the odd but pleasant racing palpitaitons in his heart; the exciting tingle running down his spine; the wave of desire that moved like a most pleasant tidal wave within. He had felt them all and had been totally aghast at feeling them for the dowdy, squinty-eyed girl, with the hideous glasses and the mammoth, ugly, gray dress, whom he certainly felt no attraction to.
"You felt them, and yet you ignored them," Malvodio said, giving Jax a knowing glance. "Her appearance deceived you, and you could not reconcile your body's reactions to what you saw in front of you, so you told yourself perhaps it was the other sister that had given you those feelings. Nearly a grave mistake, Jasper. I have told you time and time again not to be deceived by the outward."
Jax nodded, never sure how Malvodio just 'knew' these things. "I never will be again. What I have come to you for, Malvodio" Jax said, "is advice on how to handle this now that I know who she is to me. She won't take this news well. She is going to be difficult, I can tell. Very."
"The most delightful ones are."
"She is going to deny anything she feels for me like a stubborn mule."
"The ones most worth having always do," Malvodio said with a nod.
"She thinks she will be marrying someone else," Jax added.
"That is nonsense," Malvodio assured him. "She will not."
"You are right about that," Jax said, already knowing he would never let that happen. "I think I know whom this man is that she thinks she loves," Jax told him. "I want you to tell me if I am right -- I know sometimes you can discern these things in some mystical manner."
"What is your guess?"
"That he is a man by the name of Michael Carruthers, a man not worthy to shine her shoes, let alone touch one beautiful curl on her head."
"You guess well, Jasper. You know we have spoken of this man before, you and I. I told you my sense was strong that you must dismiss him from the Realm."
"That was done, Malvodio. A week ago," Jax told him.
"Good. Very good. His heart is dark," Malvodio said. "As are his feelings for you, although I cannot decipher why. Pity that you both desire the same girl, for you shall have her, and he shall not. And it will only darken his feelings towards you all the more. His is an unhappy fellow. Morose and miserable. Far better suited to be a citizen of Kent."
Jax brushed his hand dismissively. "How he feels about me is the most irrelevant thing in my life."
Simon let out a triumphant 'whoop,' as he finally succeeded in turning the brook into a delightful shade of glittering silver. No sounds in the Enchanted Forest escaped beyond the trees, so they could make all the revelry they wanted to out here quite freely.
"Well done, my son. Now change it back," Malvodio instructed. He then turned his attention back to the Prince, whom he owed his very life to. For it was Prince Jasper, who, at only 18, had inadvertently rescued Malvodio and Simon from the dungeons of the King of Kent. "You must be careful with her, Jasper," the wizard advised, "and yet not overly careful. You must know when to let her lead and know equally well when to take the lead from her. You must at times allow your reckless nature to rule."
"That has never been a problem for me," Jax said.
"This I know," Malvodio laughed. "What you need to learn is to temper your recklessness so that it works in conjunction with your other characteristics. You tend to overwhelm, Jasper -- enemies, women, all who cross your path find you unforgettable in one way or another -- this is not a bad thing, but you must realize that you, at times, will need to temper that which is extraordinary about you, and within you, so as not to …overwhelm. Do you understand my meaning?"
Jax gazed over at him, moonlight-blue eyes glittering in the night. "You are speaking specifically about Brenda?"
"Yes."
"You are advising me not to tell her that she is mine?" he asked, confused.
"She is not yours," Malvodio said.
Jax begged to differ. "She *is.*"
"Not until she makes it so," Malvodio said firmly. "I am advising you, stubborn, young Prince, to fan the flames and stir the pot, but let the pursuit not be yours alone, let it be hers as well. Lead her a merry, sensual chase, but resist taking her, and instead, allow her to . . .take you, shall we say."
Jax did not look happy to hear this advice. "I should wait for Brenda to be overcome with the desire to take *me?* I am a patient man, Malvodio," he said. "but she is impetuous and more stubborn than I. I knew that within seconds of meeting her -- and, as much as I want her, I am not exactly willing to wait an eternity for her to 'come around.'"
Malvodio chuckled and patted Jax's knee. "It will not take an eternity," he said rising to his feet. "It will not even take a month," he murmured under his breath with a smile as he headed towards his large cottage on the other side of the brook. "You will be spending time with her tomorrow?" the sorcerer asked.
"I am taking her riding," Jax said. "By the beach. It is something she says she has always wanted to learn how to do."
Malvodio nodded as if this were good. "You will teach her much, as she will you. Make the most of it," he said, with a wink.
Jax arched an inquisitive eyebrow, but Malvodio said nothing more until he reached the front door of his cottage.
Before he went inside he stopped and turned towards Jax once more. "Announce your choice of sisters in one week's time," he said.
Jax looked at him, stunned. "Are you mad, sorcerer? She wants nothing to do with me in that way. If I let it be known that I choose her, that I want her - she will first fly into a rage; she will then consider murdering me. When those thoughts leave her head, she will then flee from the palace in the dead of night and seek out the demoted knight, I have no doubt of it. And you know if he touches her, I will have to slay him where he stands."
Malvodio shook his head. "Rid yourself of these foolish concerns. I sense that in one week's time she will be incapable of leaving you," he said, as he nodded a silent goodnight and stepped inside the cottage.
Simon, on his fourth try, finally was able to turn the water in the brook back to it's natural color, although he thought that was a pity, for the silver had looked so becoming. Simon then jumped off of the sparkling ice-blue rock he had been standing on and went over to Jax.
"What do you think he meant by that?" Jax asked. "That she will be 'incapable' of leaving me in one week's time?"
Simon shrugged. "I don't know. Whoever knows what my father means? Perhaps it means she will be rendered 'incapable' by her desire for you?" he suggested with a grin, as he sat down next to Jax.
"Perhaps it means she will break her leg and be 'incapable' of leaving due to that," Jax murmured.
"He is not always right you know," Simon pointed out.
"So far he has never been wrong," Jax countered. "What would make her incapable of leaving?" he pondered, tapping long, slender, bronzed fingers against a handsome, cleft chin.
"He said incapable of leaving *you,*" Simon reminded him. "I think there is a vast difference in there somewhere. Anyway, it makes no sense to dwell on this - what will be, will be. And since you are here . . ." he said jumping up and drawing his sword, an eager grin on his face.
Jax laughed and jumped up, too, unsheathing his own sword, the gold of which glittered magnificently in the bright moonlight.
"All right," Jax agreed, "but you should know that I grow tired of wiping the floor with you, sorcerer's son."
Simon rose a blonde eyebrow. "Perhaps your streak of luck will see its end this night, King's son."
"Luck? No, this is about skill, my spell-casting friend. Something I have in abundance, while you on the other hand . . ." Jax sighed.
Simon laughed.
The blades clashed in the night as their spirited swordplay began.
It was 1:30 in the morning and despite thinking she had been so tired, Brenda found sleep an elusive thing. She sat up in the luxurious bed, wondering if the Prince would keep his word and teach her how to ride a horse. The prospect of learning was so exciting she wanted to do a little dance around the beautiful bedchamber. But then she wondered if perhaps she ought to tell him she'd changed her mind about the riding lesson. For goodness only knew how her sisters would react to His Highness giving *her* a lesson and not doing the same for them. They already thought he greatly favored her and were not happy about it. Perhaps she could talk him into giving them each a lesson? She rather doubted he would be too receptive to the idea. But she would try.
Brenda climbed out of the bed and went to gaze out at the window again. The night was so pretty and enchanting, she thought with a smile, as she opened the tall windows and a sweet hint of vanilla scent blew in with the night breeze. Vanilla scent? How strange and wonderful at the same time, she thought. What kind of flowers produced such a delightful fragrance?
Her eyes went to the tall, gold gates of the Enchanted Forest. She saw that the guard was still there, poor fellow. Did he never get any sleep? Or perhaps they had changed the guard, she surmised. They all looked the same in the black and gold Knights of the Realm uniforms. She had always loved Michael's Realm attire, although she did notice that he had not worn it the last few times she had seen him. Which was odd, she had to admit, because as much as he hated the Prince and the royal family, he did like strutting around in the royal garb of the Knights.
Brenda's attention was caught by the gold gates swinging open and Prince Jasper walking through them. Had he been in the Enchanted Forest all night? She watched him as he locked the gates behind him, said something to the guard and then proceeded to come back towards the palace.
She couldn't take her eyes away from him as he crossed the courtyard, the footfall of his gleaming, black boots gently echoing along the smooth silver bricks.
Yes, she had to confess, he was breathtaking, damn him, and in the next instant she was caught completely off-guard when Jax suddenly raised his eyes and they locked on her, capturing her in his gaze. Brenda sucked in her breath and made as if to hastily move away from the window, but she suddenly felt immobilized and her legs did not move.
The bright moon shifted in the sky, and Jax could clearly see the alluring outline of her body beneath the soft, pastel nightgown she wore. Blue eyes turned a dark, rich shade of violet and slowly scanned every tantalizing curve. She was perfect. She was exquisite. She was . . .
Mine, Jax thought with a sexy, nearly imperceptible raise of his eyebrows and a certain smile that Brenda was beginning to see from him far too often.
Brenda took a step back as she watched his eyes slowly travel the length of her body. It felt as if he were… touching her. She both marveled and was startled at the sensation. A warm current throbbed somewhere in the center of her being and began to flow through her outwards.
What was this feeling? And why should his merely looking at her cause it to stir about so pleasingly? She was unnerved by the way his eyes were locked with hers. Truly, it felt as if the man were deliberately trying to mesmerize her!
She scowled down at him and then stubbornly closed her eyes to break the sensual gaze they were caught in. When she slowly opened her eyes a few seconds later, he was gone. She blinked uncertainly and learned forward, gazing out of the window, looking for him. But she saw no sign of him. Had she just imagined he was there?
Her symptoms were back, she noticed -- the heated flush, the lovely tingling, the breathlessness. She wasn't sick. It was *he,* she realized. It was he who was somehow doing this strange thing to her.
How fascinating, she thought. What manner of man was this Prince, that he could stand several feet from her, just look into her eyes, and fill her with this electrifying sensation. Such feelings were strange and new to her. Exciting, too. Very, she had to admit with a mischievous smile that would have made her mother faint. But these strange feelings were dangerous above all else, and forbidden as far as she was concerned. She supposed these feelings meant she was attracted to him -- a great deal, she confessed to herself with a soft sigh. Lust, Miranda had called it.
She should probably avoid him, Brenda realized as she climbed back into the bed, trying to get her breathing back to normal as the lovely sensations were at last abating. Of course, avoiding him would mean no riding lesson tomorrow, she realized in disappointment.
She was so looking forward to learning how to ride a horse, she thought with a little pout. She wanted to ride by the beach, feel the sun on her face, hear the ocean lapping at the shore -- and there were no beaches more beautiful than the ones by the palace. This really was an opportunity she should not let pass her by. Surely no harm could possibly come from one innocent little riding lesson . . .
Malvodio stroked his silver beard with one hand, while stirring his cup of herbal tea with the other. Tomorrow would be significant, he knew. He gazed up at the expanse of starry sky, visible through the unique transparent ceiling of the cottage. It would be the start of something uniquely wonderful, he smiled. But, as with all things so extraordinary, it would not come easily. He sighed.
Then he smiled again. Nothing worth having ever came easily. The Prince knew that. The young lady would soon learn it as well.
"Ah, yes. It should be most entertaining," Malvodio murmured, raising his cup to toast the stars and then chuckling to himself.
Song Credit: "Storybook" written by Frank Wildhorn and Nan Knighton, available on the album entitled The Scarlet Pimpernel on Angel Records.