Page 72 of Once Upon an Enchanted Kiss

“But she did find out?” she asked.

“She did.”

It was then he told her about the old hag in the cabin, the map to the treasure, how Jeffrey and Charles found them on the road and Jeffrey addressed him as prince. How angry Rosamund was when she discovered the truth about him.

“It was then I knew we should all go to Myst Hall. That we should return the princess home,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?” The queen was genuinely interested in his answer.

“It is difficult to explain.” He took a sip of tea, stalling.

She waited, patiently, as she refilled her cup and dropped in one cube of sugar, stirred, and then sipped. Her expectant gaze was still on him.

“It was as though there was some driving force pushing us together onward. Deeper into the forest. We both felt it and we were both powerless to resist.”

He finished telling her the rest of the story about the dragon’s cave, the treasure that wasn’t there and, finally, the appearance of Queen Rowena. She used her dark magic to conjure the rosebushes and force Rosamund to prick her finger. When he fell silent, he sipped his tea and leaned back in the chair, the exhaustion pounding through him.

His mother had a funny look on her face. One he had seen numerous times as she inspected him with a sort of tranquil calm. He had the distinct feeling her mind was at work with some scheming plan or thought.

“What, Mother?”

She was silent a long moment, then very carefully placed the tea cup on the table in front of her. She sat back in the chair, her hands flat in her lap.

“You’re in love with the princess.”

Phillip was so stunned by her declaration, he sat straight in the chair, his hands on his knees as he leaned toward her.

“I never said that.”

“No, but you are.” She gave him a knowing smile.

He huffed out a breath. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

And yet, when he thought of Rosamund, a warmth spread through him. There was something about her that he found attractive and sweet. When she looked at him and gave him her smile, his heart swelled. There was a light of life and vitality within her lovely emerald eyes. She was brave, and kind, and charming, and—

Bollocks.

He was in love with her.

“Phillip, my darling, you’ve spent a good portion of your youth chasing women who amused you. When you had your fill of them, you discarded them. You broke their hearts. But Rosamund is different. She is more than a passing fancy. You’ll never admit it, though you should. Perhaps you don’t want to admit it because you were betrothed and forced into a marriage neither of you wanted. And here you are, pining away for her while she is in an eternal slumber.”

Much as he didn’t want to admit it, his mother was right. He rubbed his forehead, trying to will away the sudden headache that had taken up residence there.

“What is your point, Mother?”

“My point is you need to find a way to break the curse and see if she feels the same way about you.”

He dropped his hand to look at her and saw a profound resolve shining brightly in her eyes. His heart raced as he sat a little straighter and scooted to the edge of the cushion to lean toward his mother.

“Whatever you’re scheming, you can stop it,” he said.

A brow lifted. “Scheming? My dear, if the princess loves you and you love her, then I see no reason to call off the wedding.” Suddenly, she jumped to her feet. “I must speak with Queen Eleanor at once.”

With her skirts bustling, she hurried to the door.

He knew exactly where she was going. With a groan, he leaned back into the chair once again.

Chapter 27

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