“That’s what happened with your other things, did it not?”
“Yes. But then won’t I need Tabitha’s help?” she queried,
just before peering over his shoulder as he climbed the staircase. “Oh, here
she comes.”
He could hear the old woman’s shoes clicking on the stairs
behind them. Christian continued upward.
Once inside the bedchamber, he set Tessa’s feet upon the rug
and began, for the third time, removing the bridal veil from her hair. “What
are we going to do?” he asked the moment he heard the witch enter behind him.
“That’s a very good question, my lord.”
“How can we make her more stable?”
“I do not know. While the magic is weakening, it remains
unpredictable. Without knowing the language it was spoken in, I don’t see how I
can help you any more than I have. I fear, my lord, that we are exhausting my
skills and knowledge in this. This magic may be beyond me.”
Her words and tone made old worries swell in his heart, and
his chest felt tight. But he ruthlessly shoved the concerns aside. Yes, this
was a problem, but he wanted to follow through. Muscle ahead…fight for this
lady who’d spellbound his soul with her shining spirit.
Tabitha went to the wardrobe and removed the green gown as
if it had not just been worn. She then filled her arms with the many layers
needed to clothe Tessa. Besides the overdress, Tabitha gathered the
under-dress, the many lacy undergarments, her bonnet, and jewelry.
His fingers tightened around the lace material in his hand,
and he feared that it might rend under his renewed determination. He dropped it
onto the table, feeling his mouth tighten into a line. “How are we to attend a
ball with everyone’s focus upon us? Such a risk…”
“You may have to elope—”
“Mother will still demand the ball.”
“Then do not attend.”
How was he supposed to get away with doing that when it
would be seen as quite offensive to his parents? Such a slap in the face could
jeopardize his entire inheritance.
Contessa lifted trembling fingers to untie the many ribbons
in her honey-colored locks. “Christian,” she muttered in a small voice, “I do
not wish to come between you and your family. Perhaps we should not—”
His fingers landed against her mouth. “Don’t say that.”
“But—” was her muffled reply. Yet her eyes said much more.
She thought to release him from the engagement.
“No, Contessa. I have not given up, and I do not want you to
either.”
Her brows pinched together.
Such a cute expression. He smirked, kissed her nose, and
removed his hand.
“Christian, please. We do not have to get married. In fact
we cannot. How could we? For you know I am dead.”
He seized her cheeks gently. His fingers slid into her hair
and curled around her nape. His thumbs moved along her cheekbones. “I could not
touch a ghost, Contessa.” Fingers moved along her jaw and settled beneath as he
found her pulse. “The dead do not have beating hearts. The dead are not warm to
the touch.”
“It is only fleeting.” That lurking storm within her gaze
gathered again.
“Rubbish. We’ll crush this horrible spell, and you will be
free again. Full of life.”
Still, she did not look convinced. His gaze held hers as he
struggled to gather more convincing words to sway her, to keep her from giving
up. When nothing else came to mind, he settled his mouth over hers and tried to
kiss understanding into her head.
Tabitha cleared her throat. “If you will leave, my lord,
I’ll help Contessa with her gown and hair.”
Releasing her lips, he dropped his forehead against hers,
smiling as her hair tickled his cheek. “Yes, ma’am.” But instead of leaving
right away, he gathered Tessa’s jaw and pressed another kiss to her nose. She
blushed, and then he moved toward the door.
With his fingers wrapped around the handle he paused and
looked back. “Tabitha?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you speak her name now, when you would not before?”
“Because it does not matter any longer. The spell that
killed her is breaking. And,” she smiled at him sheepishly, “I confess I am
rooting for you.”
“Ah-ha, you’ve had a change of heart.”
The witch nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. “See, Contessa, you must not lose
faith. Promise me?”
After releasing a breath, Tessa loosened another blue ribbon
from her hair then whispered, “I promise.”
Satisfied, even though he wasn’t altogether convinced she
truly meant it, Christian left.
Preparations began for a romantic proposal and Christian
ordered an expensive ring. Apparently, getting engaged was enough for his sire
to give him the “significant sum” mentioned at the bottom of that document—the
one Leeraby had brought to him weeks ago.
“Today’s the day, Jackson. Is the picnic prepared?”
“Yes, my lord, exactly as you requested. A hamper has been
packed with cold roasted chicken, smoked salmon, a selection of fine cheeses,
crusty French bread, strawberries and cream, lavender lemonade, chilled tea and
wine, and a wonderful collection of chocolates.”
“Brilliant, old man, you’re a hero disguised in wool.”
“Are you quite certain you don’t wish for me to take things
to the picnic site to set it up? Hot tea is the standard, even for such an
outing—”
“Jackson, I want this to be private. I don’t want servants
hiding out in the foliage to serve us.”
“And, Son, you’re still in need of a chaperone—”
“You’re forgetting we’re already betrothed. It is no longer necessary.”
“It isn’t any trouble for me to come. Surely—”
“Where are we going?” asked Contessa.
Christian turned to face her and smiled. Tabitha had dressed
her very well for this outing. Not yet had he seen her dressed in white, and he
quite liked it. She bashfully fiddled with the pink ribbon tied around her
waist. Christian took his time taking in the entire sight before him. From the
top of her tulle-embellished bonnet to the bottom of her gown with the pink and
white striped fabric peeking out from under the lace-trimmed overdress—she was
pure confection.
“On a picnic, my darling princess, how does that sound?”
Her lips curled upward and the expression brightened her
entire face. “Delightful,” she replied. Her gaze passed over his dimple and she
looked away, blushing.
Leaning to the left, Christian recaptured her gaze. “Shall
we then?” He drew her arm through his.
“But, Christian—” protested Jackson.
It only took one warning look to silence the old chap who
held out the hamper and blanket with an expression of annoyance furrowing his
already crinkled brow.
With one arm, Christian collected the supplies and escorted
Tessa to the stables. “Wait right here while I go and gather my horse.”
She nodded.
As Christian tightened the straps on Prince’s saddle he
scowled to himself. “Why in the world did I name you Prince?”
The horse nudged his shoulder and snorted.
“It’s a bit ironic, I tell you.” He chuckled softly, patting
Prince on his black muzzle. “And to think, the villain in this tale is the
prince.”
Prince followed as Christian took the reins and led him
toward Contessa.
After strapping their picnic to the horse, he took her about
the waist and lifted her to the saddle, then mounted behind her.
This felt quite different from their last horse ride, he mused,
as his arm curved around her middle. “Comfortable?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Good.”
“Where are we going?” she asked again. Her fingers clasped
onto his sleeve as they began to move.
“The river.”
As they traversed to the riverbank, Contessa kept
exclaiming, “Oh, how lovely. Oh, I never did explore this way. Oh, my…’tis a
dream world.”
He thought so too, and today couldn’t have been more
perfect. Fat clouds lazily slid across the sky, all of them were pure white,
and none of them offered any threat to his plans for a romantic afternoon.
“Christian, it is so beautiful,” she went on. “The flowers
do like it here, do they not? Just lovely.”
Laughing under his breath, he stopped Prince just beyond a
copse of elms and boxwood, a few yards away from the edge of the water. “I
visited this on my second day at the estate. I’d only moved my things in and
taken one ride around the property before I was called back to London.
Obviously before you’d awakened.” He swung a leg over and stepped down, then
reached for Contessa. “Mother told me about it, though I’m certain she’d
expected me to fish, and nothing more.”
Her booted feet got lost in the grass as he let her down.
She gathered her skirt in her fingers to lift and protect the hemline, and then
she looked about. “Are those bluebells?”
When she tried to go after them, he captured her about the
waist. “Now, now, my sweet, you mustn’t wander off. The ground is uneven; you
could twist an ankle.”
“I only wish to smell them.” She pouted up at him, unable to
escape his strength.
He could feel the half-smile on his mouth as he released
her, but warned with his eyes that she was to stay put. Tossing the blanket
outward to settle it as flat as possible upon the grass, Christian said, “Sit
here. I’ll gather all the bluebells you like.”
After taking his hand, Tessa lowered to the blanket, curling
her feet to the side, and watched as he hiked out through thick grass and
wildflowers.
Christian returned with two handfuls of flowers. He handed a
bouquet of bluebells, red poppies, and pink yarrow to her whilst he sank next
to her still holding a bunch of little daisies and white elder flowers.
“What are you going to do with those?” she asked after
smelling what he’d just given her.
“I’m going to make a wreath for your lovely hair.”
“Really?” She smiled at him as she rubbed the petals between
finger and thumb, then the flowers dropped to the blanket.
“Contessa,” he said, and she returned to living form. He set
the bouquet back into her hand, and the smile returned to her mouth, although
this time it wavered slightly.
Pretending that hadn’t just happened, he said, “Every
princess deserves a crown of flowers.” He’d created flower circlets before,
many times, in fact. So he made quick work of it, braiding the stems and
twisting them around into a ring shape.
Contessa seemed surprised when he removed her hat and placed
the finished circlet upon her head. “Brilliant,” he said, “it fits perfectly
around this breathtaking up-do Tabitha has done for you today.”
“You are quite proficient with flowers, Christian. Should I
suspect you of having done this for many maidens?”
“Guilty as charged, though I’ve only made these for one
other maiden besides yourself.” And when her smile slipped even more, he added,
“Emma has worn many of my designs.”
“Only her?”
“Of course, only her. When we were younger we would play
Robin Hood and she would be the fair princess in distress, while I played
Robin, who came to her rescue.” He chuckled. “Well, unless it was Peter’s turn
to be the hero, then I’d be the quite sinister Sheriff of Nottingham.”
“I cannot picture you as sinister.”
“Trust me. I was the best at playing the sheriff, while
Peter played Robin far better than me.” To prove it, he put on a dangerous
expression and emitted his evil villain laugh.
She laughed in response, batted at his arm and said, “Stop
that. Who is Robin Hood?”
Christian frowned. “I can’t believe you don’t know. The
tales of him were written so long ago. Is it possible you’ve only forgotten?”
“It is possible. Do you have these books with tales of Robin
in them?”
“I do have a couple of volumes you could read.”
She stared at him, twisting the pink ribbon around her
finger. It seemed she was waiting for him to further explain Robin Hood. “It
figures that you’d be more interested in him. Robin was a handsome outlaw who
stole from the rich to help the poor. He was a master with a bow and arrow.”
“Are you also skilled with a bow?”
“I’m afraid not. That’s likely why Peter was better at being
Robin.”
“If he was an outlaw, why was he the hero?”
“He was also an earl, I suppose. It seems women have always
fallen for the dangerous hero, especially if he’s titled.” To distract her from
falling in love with the long-gone character of Hood, Christian began opening
the hamper.
The tactic worked quite well, because apparently Tessa was
hungry. She went for the chocolate first.
Cutting a portion of chicken off, he began filling a plate
for each of them. He set the porcelain before her and also presented a napkin.
She accepted the linen, and glanced at the meal momentarily before biting her
lip with a mischievous smirk, and then took another chocolate.
He laughed. “Are you going to eat dessert first?”
“Will you think less of me if I do?”
Laughing again, he lifted a strawberry to her lips. “You may
dine however you like, my lady.”
She bit into the juicy fruit and smiled, then her little
pink tongue shot out and collected juice from her bottom lip. Still holding the
stem, he nibbled away the remainder of berry up to leaves and then tossed it
over his shoulder. If she only knew the thoughts her mouth conjured for him,
she would see why the Sheriff fit him better. But she trusted him so much he
knew he
never
wanted to do anything to shatter that. To have her look at
him differently would cut too deeply to bear, so he’d keep his male thoughts to
himself.
As they finished eating and chatting, Christian checked his
pocket for the box containing the ring. It was there. He gave it a reassuring
pat.
“Thank you for the fine picnic. It was heavenly. What are we
going to do now?” she asked just before dropping the last slice of Gouda onto
her tongue.
“What would you like to do?”