Touch of Gold: (Rumpelstiltskin) (Tangled Tales Series Book 4) (2 page)

Chapter 2

Olivia de Mil found it hard to pay attention to the conversation between her father and the baron, because that fool knight from the other side of the room kept staring at her and waving as if she would really respond to that! He was a handsome knight, but obviously drunk. She’d seen him almost fall over more than once tonight.

She’d also seen him with the castle’s whores on his lap, and wanted nothing to do with a man like that. Even so, something about him was intriguing and amusing, and watching him make a fool of himself had broken up the boredom of being at this wedding.

She tired of watching other couples marry. Her whole reason for being here was to find a nobleman for herself. Her father had assured her that even though most people thought of her as just a spinster and a commoner, she was special. Having heard the rumors that she was possibly the daughter of a sheik that her mother had had an affair with years ago, she didn’t know if it was true or not but hesitated to ask her father. Still, if a nobleman had heard the rumor as well and it got her closer to the promise of living a desirable life, then perhaps the idle gossip didn’t matter.

Her father was a miller and sly and crafty in ways that were less than admirable. His lies were going to get him killed someday, and she couldn’t let that happen. She loved her father even if he was possibly not her father at all. She needed to look after him. Without him as her guardian, she’d never be able to achieve her goal of marrying a titled, rich man.

Already well past the marrying age at three and twenty years, she needed to find someone to wed quickly. Her father promised her it would be someone of noble blood, and she trusted that he could pull this off somehow. That is, if he stayed sober, which was a feat in itself. Once he started drinking, his lies spiraled out of control.

“Olivia, you seem distracted,” said Baron Pettigrew, pulling her attention away from the golden-haired knight from across the room. “Is there something that takes your interest?”

“Nay,” she said, smiling sweetly, trying to pretend she’d been listening to the conversation between the baron and her father, even though she hadn’t heard a word they’d said. “I’m enjoying your company, my lord,” she answered with a slight curtsy. Her hand went to the pearl necklace around her neck as she fingered it nervously. It was once her mother’s prized possession. The baron had given her a silver and pearl ring tonight that matched it. “And I thank you once again for your beautiful gift.”

“Ah, well, it can’t compare to your breathtaking beauty,” he said, actually having the nerve to reach out and touch her chin. She wanted to bite his finger and pull away, but caught the warning glance of her father and stayed still. That would be no way to land a husband.

“Still, it is such an elegant piece of jewelry. I am grateful for your kindness,” she said, forcing a smile.

“I wouldn’t usually give jewelry to a commoner, but the miller assures me you are special.”

“Yes,” she said nervously, wondering just what her father had told him to get him even to talk to her.

“Just think of it as your betrothal present.” The man thankfully pulled his hand away, and Olivia’s eyes shot over to her father.

“My betrothal? Whatever do you mean, my good lord?” Mayhap her father had pulled this off after all. And mayhap she should have been paying more attention to their conversation instead of the fool on the other side of the room.

“If everything your father tells me about you is true, then I see no reason why we shouldn’t be married.” The baron glanced over to her father and then back to her again. “Unless he’s been filling my ears full of lies.” He chuckled lowly, and it unnerved her. “Of course, if I find I’ve been made a fool of, there will be harsh consequences to pay.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she answered. Harsh consequences didn’t sound good at all. That could mean anything from a steep fine and a good tongue-lashing, to being thrown in the dungeon and beheaded.

“Is everything your father says about you true?” asked the baron, scrutinizing her, making her feel very uncomfortable.

Nothing her father ever said was true, but she couldn’t admit it to the man. She only wished she had heard what lie her father had fed him so she could diffuse it like she normally did to keep her father from going to the gallows. The last time he tried to betroth her to Sir Adam of Devon, he’d told the man she was six and ten years of age, was the offspring of a dead knight, and could bear him a dozen sons. She had to finish his lie with telling him she would always be that young in her surrogate father’s eyes and that she was a few years older than he made her out to be. The man had been suspicious from the start since she didn’t look near six and ten years old, and ignored them from then on.

The time before that, her father had told Lord Stanley of Rye that she was the daughter of a dead wealthy noble that came from France. He’d said she was only being fostered by him. Rather than to have to produce the proper papers, she’d explained that the documents had been lost at sea in a shipwreck on the way over when the rest of her staff drowned. Of course, that sounded farfetched, and the nobleman wanted nothing to do with her after that.

“My daughter is special,” said her father, wavering just like the golden knight from across the room, and spilling whiskey from the goblet clenched in his hand. Her father wasn’t used to such fine whiskey and tended to indulge too much when the opportunity arose. When he did, his tales tended to become more and more outrageous. “She is worth her weight in gold,” he said, looking at her over the rim of his goblet and winking.

“Well, is it a lie, or can you spin wool the way your father says you can?” asked the baron.

Olivia’s heart pounded furiously in her chest, and she felt a bead of perspiration emerging upon her brow. What could her father have possibly told the man that would make him take notice of a commoner and think she was special? True, she was a talented spinster, and could spin wool into yarn faster than any of the other girls of the village, but why would the baron care about this? There had to be more to the lie.

“Yes, I hold very special skills when it comes to spinning,” she said, her eyes glancing from the baron back to her father. Her father’s eyes were half closed as he finished off the whiskey in his cup and held it out to a passing serving boy to refill.

“There’s no one like her,” said her father with a chuckle. “I think you’ll be very sur – sur – surprised by her talents,” he said, barely getting the words out since his speech was becoming slurred. He staggered and looked as if he were about to fall over, so she reached out and held onto his arm to steady him.

“Thank you for your conversation, but I’m afraid we must bid you a goodnight, Baron Pettigrew,” she said politely, wanting to get her father away from the man before he said anything more.

“Wait, wait,” said her father, pushing her hand off his arm. “We st – still have to talk about the dowry and decide when to post the wedding banns.”

“Dowry?” she said, knowing they had nothing to bring to this marriage, and wanting to ring her father’s neck for even mentioning it.

“Oh, no dowry is necessary,” answered the baron. This surprised her to hear him say such words since the dowry a lady brought to a marriage was crucial. “That is – if you can really do what your father says you can. That will be more than enough to compensate.”

“It will?” She reached out and gripped her father’s arm tightly this time. “Father, can I speak to you in private, please?”

She didn’t have time to pull him away, because the golden knight from the other side of the room walked up, pushing his way through the crowd and joining their conversation without being invited.

“Baron, I’m so glad you could find the time to join us in celebrating my brother’s marriage to the Lady Bonnibel,” said the man. “I know what a busy man you are.”

“Gillingham,” said the baron. “I’m happy to have been invited. It’s proving to be a very beneficial visit.” He nodded to Olivia when he said it.

“Gillingham?” Olivia eyed the knight. His blue eyes the color of a summer sky met with hers and narrowed slightly as if he were trying to be seductive. His hair was like spun gold in color and very thick and full. It fell well past his shoulders. Bushy brows and a small, short beard and mustache gave way to a wide mouth full of white teeth when he smiled.

“Gillingham is where I reside,” the knight explained. “However, I ask to be addressed as Lord de Bar, or Lord Kin, my lady.” He bowed his head respectfully, and she wondered if he honestly thought she was a lady or if that was how he talked to all the women he met. The smell of whiskey drifted from his words, and he reminded her of her father. They were probably two of a kind.

“Yes, and though my castle resides in Shaftesbury, you can call me Baron Pettigrew,” interrupted the baron, seeming to want to be less formal as well all of a sudden.

“And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?” asked the knight, reaching out and taking her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it before she had the chance to stop him.

“This is my beautiful daughter, Olivia,” said her father, taking another swig of whiskey, his body wavering back and forth.

“I’m Olivia. Olivia de Mil,” she said as the knight kissed her hand again. She never said she was a lady, but neither did she stop him from thinking so. He’d figure it out now that a miller introduced her as his daughter, so no sense pointing out the obvious.

“She’s my newly betrothed,” said the baron, and the knight froze in place and slowly lifted his head.

“Really.” His blue eyes became dark like the depths of the sea as he surveyed her, and she was sure a blush colored her cheeks. She felt the warmth of his hand holding hers and also the wetness of his kisses upon her skin. “Excuse me for my insolence, Baron, but why would you marry the mere daughter of a miller?”

“She has a unique skill that makes her very desirable,” said the baron.

“Skill?” The knight stood up, dropping her hand and his eyes raked down her body. “Yes, I’m sure I know what you mean. But surely, her skill in the bedchamber can be enjoyed without actually having to marry the girl.”

She gasped, not sure what to say to that, and the baron just laughed.

“I don’t mean that, de Bar,” said the baron. “Come closer and I’ll tell you exactly what this girl can do that makes her so valuable.” The baron leaned in, and so did the knight, and she was trapped right in the middle. Anxiety coursed through her. Glancing over her shoulder, she wanted to signal her father to intervene and help her, but he was busy holding out his wooden goblet for more whiskey, not even paying attention to the situation at all.

“What is it that she can do?” asked the knight in a deep voice.

“She’s skilled in spinning,” the baron whispered. “And she’s going to make me rich.”

“Baron Pettigrew, although my spinning is of the finest quality, I don’t know why you think it’ll make you rich,” Olivia boldly interjected. “Surely that’s not the case.”

“That’s not what your father said,” answered the baron. “Unless he’s lying. If he is, you’d better tell me now because I don’t take kindly to those who weave tales that are untrue.”

“That’s right,” said Kin with a nod of his head. He took his finger and ran it across his throat, making a face and letting his head fall to the side with his tongue sticking out and his eyes crossed. She wished he’d bite his tongue. It sounded as if her father would be beheaded if whatever he’d told the baron was a lie. She might too. Olivia glanced back to her father again, realizing he’d collapsed atop the trestle table face down in a drunken stupor and was going to be of no help to her at all.

“I assure you, my father is not trying to deceive anyone,” she said, trying to save both their necks.

“Good then,” said the baron, standing up straighter. “Then tomorrow you and your father will accompany me back to Shaftesbury where you will prove your skill to me, and assure me that your father is telling me the truth. If I’m satisfied, we will be married. But if I find out the man has lied – you will both be killed. Do you understand?”

“Killed?” Her eyes shot back over to her father, knowing that when she found out what lie he’d told the baron, she would want to kill him herself.

“I still haven’t had the pleasure of hearing about this coveted skill of hers,” said Kin. “What is it about her spinning that is so valuable that you are willing to marry her?”

Olivia waited with baited breath as the baron leaned forward for the second time, and Kin’s head came closer as well. Trapped between them once again, there was no mistaking the baron’s next words.

“She can spin wool - into gold,” said the baron, surprising Olivia so much that she couldn’t help but cry out.

“Gold?” she squealed, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. It was getting hard to breathe. She kept envisioning Lord Kin drawing a finger over his throat and her own head on the ground next to her.

“Now that’s a skill I’d like to see for myself,” said the knight with an amused chuckle.

“And so you shall. You’ll come along with us, as the girl’s escort,” said the baron in finality. “And once we return to my castle, we’ll both watch the girl spin wool into gold.”

That’s all Olivia needed to hear. This time, her father’s lies had gone too far. She cursed herself inwardly for being so careless and not quick-witted enough to counteract these tall tales. Feeling faint, Olivia’s vision started to blacken, so she reached out and grabbed Lord Kin by the arm.