Page 4 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

He handed her one of the cups. “Will you sit with me?” He gestured to the sitting area on the other side of the room.

“Of course.”

She took the cup from him and rose from the desk, leaving her papers and the book behind. Lord Vincent’s private library ranked among the best she’d seen in her line of work. Bookshelves lined the walls, soaring to the twenty-foot ceiling. One end of the room had a desk. That’s where she liked to work. Next to it, the colorful window that let in shafts of colored light. That was her favorite.

On the other end of the room, the wall of windows overlooked the south lawn that was always immaculate. The sitting area had two sofas facing each other. To the right and left of the sofas were two oversized wing-backed chairs. In the middle, a large table hosting a small candelabra. She imagined it lit in the late evening, giving off a warm, inviting glow to the sitting area.

He took one of the sofas. She sat across from him. For a moment, she thought he seemed disappointed she did not sit next to him.

“Tell me about the rose and thorn language you’ve been translating.” He sipped his tea.

“It’s a fascinating story about a powerful sorceress who fell in love with a prince who broke her heart.”

He lifted a dark brow at that. “Fascinating. The gentleman I purchased the book from didn’t know what it was about.”

“It’s a sad story, really,” she said. “With a terrible ending.”

“How does it end?” he asked.

“A curse dooms the prince to a solitary life, locked away in his castle.” She sipped her tea.

That seemed to have struck a nerve with him. He placed the cup and saucer on the table in front of him and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“That sounds horrid,” he said.

“It’s terribly sad,” she agreed with a nod.

“Miss Isabella…” The way her name rolled off his tongue sent warning bells clanging in her mind. He clasped his hands together and gave her a weak smile. “I cannot tell you how I’ve enjoyed having you here these last few weeks.”

Her fingers tightened on the cup handle. “Have you? I’ve been here in the library the whole time. We’ve hardly seen each other.”

A small smile slipped across his face. “Yes, I know. And a pity that. Perhaps you would like to dine with me?”

Her heart rammed hard against her chest. Dine with him? Lord Vincent? She knew where this was going, and she had to stop it before it got out of hand. He was much too old for her.

“I do thank you for the invitation, my lord, but I’m afraid I cannot. My father is due to return this evening. I need to be home to greet him.” She placed the cup on the table in front of her and rose.

“Oh, perhaps another time then,” he suggested.

She cut a glance at the desk with her scattered papers and the still open book. “Perhaps. I’ll return tomorrow and finish the translation.”

“Of course.” He got to his feet.

She headed for the door, and he followed, reaching past her to open it for her. As she passed by him, he placed a hand on her arm.

“A moment, please,” he said, his voice low.

Stopping abruptly, her heart pounded in her chest. She hated having to wave off the men who wanted to court her. She was not interested in courting anyone, for none of the men in the port city were of an interest to her.

“Yes?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I do not know how to say this, Miss Isabella, but…I find you to be in my thoughts more and more and—”

“I do thank you for that, my lord, but I must tell you straightaway I cannot reciprocate any feelings you might have for me.”

He blinked, surprise evident on his face. She rushed on.

“I have learned that it’s best to say my feelings up front, so that there is no misunderstanding later. While I do appreciate your kind thoughts and your offer of dinner, I must make it clear I’m here for work and work only, my lord. I do hope you understand that.”

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