The Wronged Princess - Book I (3 page)

Candlelight flickered
,
casting
dancing shadows along the walls, competing with
a
roaring fire in the grate
. 
So accustomed to the rich red and golds of the chamber, he ceased to see them as his memory regenerated the surprising
, and miracle, if you will,
of the ball
. 
A ball his dear
mamán
had insisted
upon to facilitate the finding
of
his
bride
. 

A bride for which he’d had no desire—until now.
After all, ten and nine was much too young
for marriage
. 
Even for an heir apparent
. 
Modern men married older these days, he grimaced
. 
Mayhap, someone should enlighten
Mamán
.

But…a vision in creamy ivory silk floated before him
. 
Though h
ours had since passed,
seared in his memory was the entrance
of
the
spellbinding
beauty
appearing
a
top the grandiose staircase
far
above
the
ballroom
. 
Her path
blazed
with the
light
of a thousand candles
. 
She’d needed no introduction
. 
He’d been stymied from the moment he’d set eyes on her
. 
And he hadn’t been the only one
. 

Stunned silence rumbled through the ballroom
. 
Just before the
snippets
of buzzing rippled
all round as he made his way to her
. 

“Who is she?”
they’d breathed.

“Where did she come from?”
they’d whispered.

“Such a beauty,” they’d murmured.

Star struck gazes riveted his attention
. 
But they focused
,
not on him
. 
Non
.
’Twas a
n unusual sensation, to be sure
. 
Mouth dry, he tried to swallow as nothing short of death could tear his eyes from the w
hite velvet
,
trimmed gown
. 
A
left
shoulder
bared
accentuated her
graceful neck
and
slender
shoulders
but for the sliver of a delicate gold chain adorned by a single teardrop diamond
. 

T
he sight before him
had the room shimmering
with
an iridescent
glow
. 
Her arrival held
the entire population enthralled
—t
he entire
kingdom
ceased
to exist.

H
e forged forward,
his
path
opening
magically
. 

Long
,
slender
fingers
slid along the
massive balustrade, stealing his breath
, constricting his
chest
. 
He found
himself
afraid to blink le
st she disappear
. 
But step after step, the folds of her
graceful
gown billowed over fragile glass slippers
—
until
that moment
. 

The moment
she’d moved straight into his waiting arms
.

H
e twirled her through the ballroom with one
perfect
waltz following another
. 
Knowing he’d stepped, or
danced
, past the stricture of protocol,
helpless against
its
pull
. 
Rich
mahogany
locks lay
piled high on her head in a sophisticated
twist
clasped into place with a small
,
elegant jeweled crown
. 
No curls to mar its thickness or beauty.

He was breathless, speechless
,
captivated
. 

Whomever this mysterious princess was, she was his now
. 
Or soon would be
. 
He must remember to thank
Mamán
for her insistence on
searching out
his
bride
. 
He grinned at the frescoed ceiling.

T
he
air
had
shimmered
round her
like the halo of an angel
,
eyes of the darkest, most decadent chocolate one could only dream,
and
full lips that tremble
d
with a timid and tremulous smile.

He was caught.

“
Will
I love you because you’re
beautiful?
” he
said softly against her cheek
. 
“
Or because
you’re
wonderful?
”

“I am but a dream,” she responded.
Her voice matched her, soft, enticing, mysterious.

“Perhaps,” he agreed
. 
He did not know
. 
He could not know
. 
He only knew he wanted to sing from the rooftops
. 
A defining moment, he decreed
. 
Because he now knew…he’d found…

Princess
Charming.

The evening
raced
past in a whirlwind of dancing where no words
were
needed
. 
They would have a lifetime to talk
. 
Right now
’
twas enough to
revel in the feel of her arms, the scent of her hair
. 
She floated like the whisper of a cloud, the mist of a ghost.

’
Twas
a
lovely night
. 
One
he knew he’d never see, again.

Then—
disaster
struck
. 

As sure as the stroke of midnight sounding from the tower clock. Twelve bongs that would change his life
—f
orever.

It seemed only t
en minutes
since
he’d met her
. 

“What’s that noise?” she’d asked
. 
Her voice was as soft as
feather down
.
Her smile
disarmed him so
. 
He smiled back.

“The tower clock,” he’d responded, mesmerized
those
luscious, full
,
red lips
. 
“The night is young, my lady
. 
’
Tis only midnight.
”
He could not decide if the fragranced blooms inundating his senses came from the surrounding gardens, or the flower in his arms.

“Midnight
,
”
she breathed
—then blinked
. 
She’d
stilled at the word
. 
H
alt
ed
in the middle of the dance floor
, a
larm
marring
her
lovely
features
, panic colored
her voice
. “I-I must go.”

B
efore he’d realized her intentions, she’d spun,
and
r
u
n from the garden, through the ballroom
. 
Flying, up the stairs and out
of his life
. 
The ballroom doors parted as if on command, allowing—
no
n
—
assisting
her escape
. 

And yet, there he’d stood, dumbstruck, bewildered
. 
His limbs thick, heavy leads of steel as hundreds of people cleared the way, mindful of her haste
. 
He jerked to the present, torn from his dream.

He should have them all beheaded.

Prince bounded from the bed
and
pace
d
his large
,
opulent
chamber
. 
He was a man who had never wanted for anything in
all his nineteen years
, he reasoned
. 
Of that, his parents had made certain
. 
He was
Royalty
. 

“Royalty, I say!” he yelled
to
the empty room.

“Sire?” His
annoying
friend and companion
, i
n truth, his cousin, though he’d deny the fact if asked
. 
Arnald poked his head through the door
. 
Prince frowned.

“Nothing, Arnald
. 
Be off.”

It confounded the mind why a young and beautiful princess would run
. 
From
him
.
He could understand their running from Arnald whose manners resembled that of an ox.

Prince
stopped before a luxuriously padded-chair and sunk down,
chin
rested on
his
fist
. 
But, alas, she was gone
. 
He
tried to summon his anger
. 
’
Twas
impossible
. 
She was
too beautiful for him to be truly angry
—t
oo sweet for his outrage.

Lovestruck
. 
That’s what he was
, he thought glumly
. 
Mayhap,
really
’
twas
all a dream.

Restless, h
e
stood
again
and gazed out at the night sky
. 
’T
would be dawn soon
. 
The sun would rise and he
with
no idea where
to find her
. 
He
’d
not even
learned
her name
. 

“Why
?
Why had she run?”

“Because you are such a child,” Arnald said.

“I thought I told you to be gone,”
Prince
snapped.

“Hah
!
Who else have you to talk to?”

Prince scowled at the truth of that statement
. 
“I have
much to offer
. 
A home, large coffers
. 
Overflowing
coffers.
”
Prince resumed his pacing
. 
“
Lands, clothes, servants
—”
He stopped.

“And?” Arnald prompted.

And…
Love
?
He dared not spout that to his cousin
. 
He would ne’er hear the end
of such drivel
. 
He cleared his throat
, p
aused, before changing his tactic
. 
“
Young women were known to fantasize their notions of romantic love
,
non?
” He said slowly, carefully keeping his eyes averted from the teasing light he would
surely
see in Arnald’s.

“I vow that is so.”

“I must marry regardless,
oui
?”