Page 50 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

She reclined on one of the sofa pillows. Her legs stretched out before her. The edge of her gown floating downward, then hem brushing the floor. A book was upside down on her chest as she slept, her face at peace. Her hand rested on top of the book.

The sight of her sent a pang of longing through him. A desperate need to go to her, to brush the back of his hand across her cheek. To feel the softness of her skin. To watch her eyes flutter open and her blue gaze land on his. Then he would scoop her into his arms and take her away to one of the bed chambers.

But no, that was not going to happen. That was never going to happen.

With his heart clotting his throat, he walked with slow, methodical, quiet steps to her and knelt in front of her. Her rhythmic breathing was slow, deep, constant. Long dark lashes brushed the tops of her cheeks. A loose tendril of hair fell over her forehead. His fingers twitched with the need to brush it away.

“Bella?” he whispered.

She didn’t stir.

His gaze landed on the book then. A leather-bound book that was unfamiliar to him. He reached for it, slipping it out from under her hand. The pages fell open, flapping a bit in the hush, as he turned it around to look at it.

The yellow pages were familiar. The drawings iconic. Somehow, she had found the history of his ancient kingdom. There, within the pages of that book, was the rise and fall of his family’s empire. How it came to be and how it came to end. His gaze flickered from the pages to her sleeping form.

After their talk, she’d come here to seek knowledge. To find out if he was telling her the truth, perhaps. He couldn’t blame her. He’d do the same thing if he was in her place.

It touched him she was interested.

She stirred then, a faint breath escaping her. He flipped the book closed and set it aside.

“Bella?” he said, this time louder.

She snapped awake, her eyes fluttering open as she sat up. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly dusk.”

“Oh!” She jumped to her feet then, looking disoriented and confused. “I fell asleep reading. I—” She pressed her lips together, her cheeks turning pink as she realized he must have seen the book she was reading.

“Let’s get your things.” He motioned to the table where her gloves and bonnet were, pretending as though everything was normal.

She nodded and headed quickly to the table, her skirts swishing with every movement. He watched her fluid movements as she placed the bonnet on her head, tied it, and then reached for the gloves, sliding them over her hands with deft ease. As though she had done it a thousand times and would a thousand more. Scooping up the book, she cradled it against her chest and turned to him.

Their gazes collided and for one breathless moment the world fell away and there was nothing but the two of them in a small sphere. Her eyes were such a startling blue it rivaled that of a perfect summer sky—a summer sky he had not seen in centuries. He longed to see it again with her. Holding her hand, smiling at her, as pride swelled through him to have her by his side.

“I’ll take my leave of you now.” She dipped a quick curtsy and headed for the door.

Her voice broke through his thoughts, and he realized he was staring. He hadn’t meant to stare.

“I’ll escort you.”

Quickly, he fell in step beside her. The air between them cracked with tension as they walked down the long corridor. What was she feeling right now in light of his earlier confession? Did she despise him? Fear him? He wanted neither of those things.

“Bella—” he began but pressed his lips together again. What could he say?

She glanced up at him. “Yes?”

“Will I see you in the morning?”

“Oh.” She looked away, fixing her gaze on the end of the hallway. For a moment, he thought she might change her mind and never return. But instead, she said, “Yes.”

Leopold suppressed the smile that wanted to erupt. Relief blossomed through his chest. He would see her one more day. Perhaps one more after that.

Dickens waited at the end of the hallway. As they approached, the brand on his forearm warmed. A familiar feeling. It was a warning. A harbinger of what was to come. He had to get her out of here and in the carriage before night enveloped the estate.

His valet grasped her by the elbow and hustled her to the front door, Leopold on his heels. He wasn’t sure if she sensed the urgency that now pounded between them. He followed her out the door, nudging Dickens out of the way as she reached the carriage.

“Goodnight, Bella.”

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