Glass Slippers & Jeweled Masques (an Erotic Cinderella Fairytale) (Twisted Fairy Tales) (2 page)

* * * * *

Cindi was running back and forth between four bedrooms, the moment lunch had been served and cleared. Alana and her daughters had driven out countless maids who refused mistreatment by the overbearing hauteur of the four women. Alana was finally dressed and ready, which meant she expected her daughters to be ready. Patience was never her strongest virtue.

Cindi looked at them with a touch of envy. None of them would be considered a great beauty, but in the right trappings, even plain could be transformed to striking. That was certainly the case here. Alana was in a glorious shade of sky blue that accentuated her fair hair and deep blue eyes. Her daughters, while less lovely, were certainly more beautiful than Cindi had ever known them to be. Carefully coiled and set hair, all three of them a darker shade of blond than their mother. Their dresses were like confections of candy, Ruella's soft pink, Delia's deep topaz, and Lyndi's a rich sapphire. Layers and layers of lace and tulle over silk made them all look like something out of a fairytale.

Alana swept past Cindi in a whoosh of silk and scent. The girls followed her, but Lyndi stopped for a moment and smiled, her expression speaking regret. She whispered, "Thank you for all your help, Cindi. I'm sorry you're not coming with us."

Excited chatter drifted up the long stairway. From the railing, Cindi caught a glimpse of the sleek white limousine waiting at the foot of the outside stairs. One by one, Alana and her daughters were helped into the car, then it began to glide down the curving drive. She sighed heavily and pushed herself into motion, down the hallway to her bedroom. She opened the door.

"Miss Cynthia, may I have a word?" Deschamps' voice halted her.

"Of course." She smiled and met him at the top of the stairs. He looked a little uneasy and she touched his arm. "What's wrong, Xalvador?"

He looked at her with kindness and an undeniable sadness in his eyes. "You're so like your mother, Miss Cynthia. Master Richard loved her in his own way, and I believe he wanted to be a proper father to you for many years."

Cindi nodded. They'd spoken of this before.

Deschamps straightened and he exhaled an audible rush of air between them.

"You should be attending this ball, Miss Cynthia. You are more entitled to the honor than that wretched woman and her harpy offspring."

Cindi laughed a little. She knew how he felt about Alana, but rarely did he ever speak with less than respectful deference of her status as Richard Lancourte's widow.

"So…" he opened the door to the old master bedroom and gestured for her to go inside. "…I have arranged for you to attend, Miss Cynthia."

She stared in disbelief when the maid smiled and stepped aside to reveal the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. Brilliant emerald in color, trimmed with paler green lace that had glittering stones woven into the patterns. A pair of exquisite transparent slippers were on the dressing table.

"Glass slippers? You're sending me as Cinderella, aren't you?" She laughed and looked up at Deschamps.

The old valet nodded. "Yes, miss. If you will accept this. Master Richard waited far too long to acknowledge you properly. I know it was something he regretted. He wouldn't have wanted you to miss this party."

"Why is it so important? Alana never would allow me to see the invitation."

Deschamps laughed. "Prince Michel Alexandros Coranthaos is the host, and rumor has it he will be selecting a bride soon. This ball is to permit him a chance to meet society's loveliest women."

Cindi looked at the dress and at the man who'd been her father's best friend and confidante throughout most of his adult life.

"If they spot me…"

"It's a masquerade, Miss Cynthia, they are not expecting you to be there, and none of them has seen this dress. You will be quite safe and quite…" he searched for the word then smiled, "…you will be quite
incognito
."

Cindi looked at the masses of emerald silk on the bed and her heart beat faster as she considered the possibility of going to such a grand party.

"I can't." She shook her head. "Somehow, they will find out. Or I'll make a mistake." She smiled, sadness filling her. She had no social grace, she was the daughter of a maid, and she'd never been to an
event
in her life. Something of this grandeur was not the place to begin an effort to fit in.

"Miss Cynthia…" Deschamps put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into his kind eyes "…The only mistake you will make is if you don't do this. There were invitations for all of the Lancourte women, five of them. She didn't want you to know that."

Cindi covered his hand and patted it, her throat tight with emotion. She laughed and his expression grew warmer.

"If I am to be Cinderella tonight, then all this…" She motioned to the gown. "…makes you my fairy godmother, Xalvador."

His bark of laughter was abrupt but genuine. "Miss Cynthia, I have been called many things in my years of service to your father, but I believe that this is, indeed, a first." He looked down at her, his dark eyes sharp and shrewd. "Now, you will attend this ball, miss."

The maid, Julietta, spoke. "Cindi, you have to!" They'd become friends, and it was the only reason the young woman tolerated Alana and her daughters. She dragged Cindi to the bed, "Just look at it, Cindi! Mr. Deschamps ordered it and made sure they had it ready with the others."

Cindi touched the dress, and caressed the smooth, heavy silk. The colors swam before her eyes. Tears spilled from her flooded eyes, clearing her vision in their wake. Julietta hugged her then shook her a little, laughing. "Come on, Cindi. Let's get you ready for the ball!"

Before she could raise further objection, Julietta had shooed Deschamps out of the room, and began to work her magic on Cindi. Less than an hour later, Cindi stood in front of a full-length mirror, in total awe of the woman in front of her.

"You'll be the most beautiful woman there, Cindi. Here, put these on." She handed Cindi the heavy glass shoes and laughed. "Don't be losing one!"

A soft knock on the door had Julietta running to open it, and her smile grew bigger.

"Miss Cynthia…" Deschamps stared. "You are lovely. So like your mother."

Cindi was startled by the emotion revealed in the old man's eyes as he looked at her. She took a few steps toward him, concerned. As quickly as the window had opened in his eyes, it was securely closed. His smile, while forced, was once again polite and warm, nothing more.

"This is for you, Miss Cynthia." Deschamps handed her a glittery foil box, and she lifted the lid, peered inside, and gasped in delight.

"It's beautiful!" She lifted out the exquisitely crafted Venetian masque. It matched her dress to perfection, and falling from the left eye of the silk-covered face was a small, glittering emerald tear, surrounded by sparkling diamonds. Feathers and hand-shaped gold weave arced gracefully from the sides of the masque.

"It was part of your father's collection," Deschamps informed her.

"It must be worth a fortune?"

Deschamps didn't reply, he placed a faux-fur trimmed wrap around her shoulders and opened the main doors as she secured the masque in place. She stared in total wonder at the snow-white carriage waiting for her. No modern limousine, a fairy-tale coach, complete with a uniformed footman and driver.

"I can't believe this," she whispered in awe.

"Enjoy yourself, Miss Cynthia. I'll send the carriage back for you at midnight. The car is due to pick up the witch and her spawn at one."

The footman came up the stairs and walked her to the coach. Minutes later, she was whisked off to the Ball.

* * * * *

Michel looked around the vast hall, rented for his father's Masquerade Ball. From his vantage point at the top of the broad staircase, he gazed down on a sea of glittering color and jewels. A low buzz of quiet conversation hummed in the background, growing louder with each step he took. He adjusted his masque, and tried to quell his resentment. By the time he reached the bottom of the long flight, every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to keep walking out the wide doors and not look back.

As if he could hear the panicked thought, Alenzo appeared at his son's side.

"At least try to look like this is a pleasant experience, my son," the king requested, the steel in his tone making the statement a royal order.

Swallowing the retort that sprang to his lips, Michel smiled, the expression strained his composure much more than it should have. The prince squared his shoulders and walked with his father into the crowd.

* * * * *

As the coach neared the estate where the Masquerade was hosted, Cindi's nerves kicked into near panic mode. They were winding up a driveway that seemed to be a mile long, and each moment took them into another world. Light poured out of the open doors and windows, the sound of music, voices, and laughter spilled out into the darkness.

The coach halted at the entrance and she peered out, adjusting her masque and taking a deep breath. The door swung open and the smiling footman held out his hand to help her down.

"We will return at midnight, Miss Lancourte," he assured her. They ascended the steps and walked to the doors. He turned, bowed and smiled. "Enjoy your evening, Miss."

Alenzo Coranthaos permitted himself a thorough, appraising look at the lovely girl who was standing before him. She was curvaceous and feminine, not painfully thin, and her skin was clear and glowed with health, not the sheen of expensive make-up and artifice. But, her eyes held his real interest. Candid, curious, but genuinely happy to be alive is how he read her. The sparkling humor and warmth of her spirit shone in her bright blue-green gaze.

"If you would like to come in, I will introduce you to the host of tonight's event." He offered his arm and she took it, smiling up at him.

* * * * *

An hour after he'd plastered on his happy face, Michel was ready to run for his life. He'd had more cloying hands and simpering smiles than any sensible man could tolerate. He lifted a glass of wine off a tray as one of the waiters passed him and while he sipped at the perfectly chilled liquid, his gaze skimmed the room again. There were women of all ages present, but the younger ones were like a pack of hounds on a scent. If they weren't offering their bodies, their mothers were determined to offer everything else.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of deep, rich emerald and he turned. His father was coming toward him, a lovely woman on his arm. Michel's heart stilled in his chest for a moment, then an instant later the pace of its beat seemed to double and roar to new life inside him. Jade colored eyes locked with his and he stared. The jeweled masque accentuated the startling beauty of her eyes, and he suddenly wanted to know what the masque was hiding from his hungry gaze. He allowed himself to behold her seductive, alluring curves; the graceful sway of her hips; and the beautiful shape of her mouth when she smiled at him.

Michel smiled and nodded. "Louisa," he tasted the name and tilted his head to one side. It didn't fit or feel right, but it was not his place to question her name. He caught his father's nod of approval before he swept the lovely woman into his arms and a new dance began.

"I've never been to a party like this," Cindi confessed, looking up into the hazel eyes of the prince. She'd have known him anywhere, his picture was often on the society pages of the newspaper, and those were the only pages Alana and her daughters ever looked at.

The Prince of Coranthis was as handsome as any fairytale prince was ever reputed to be, with his fair hair and sculpted features. He was tall, and while well-built, he lacked the heaviness of men who spent grueling hours at fitness centers and gyms. His movements were elegant and easy, his entire manner relaxed.

Michel pulled her closer, and Cindi gasped when she came into contact with his body. Something powerful woke deep inside her, and she trembled. Long fingers slid into her hair, coming to rest against the back of her neck while he drew her to his shoulder and bent to whisper close to her ear.

"You are easily the most beautiful woman here, Louisa."

The stain of embarrassment heated her cheeks and she shook her head. "I know that isn't true, but thank you." She stumbled and was further mortified, felt herself scarlet with self-conscious annoyance. "I'm so sorry, I really don't know how to dance. I should have warned you."