Page 61 of Once Upon an Enchanted Castle

The longer she stared at the runes, the more discouraged she got. The letters simply were not forming for her. Why? What had changed? Was it because she was no longer in the library? Was it because she was so close to Leopold? Or perhaps it was because she was close to solving the riddle.

She didn’t know.

Her back ached. She had ink stains on her fingers. Her head throbbed and, she realized, her stomach rumbled from desperate hunger. She had not left the desk or the room since returning. The only thing she had earlier that day was a bit of tea. She didn’t recall if she actually ate the offered scones.

When she tired of sitting at the desk, she stood up, arched her back to stretch it, and then walked around the desk. Keeping distance between her and the bedridden Leopold, she made sure he was still breathing and all was well. Theveil-shadethat had attacked him must have taken much from him, for he hadn’t moved again. He hadn’t made a sound.

A light knock on the door sounded before it pushed open and there was Dickens on the others side.

“My lady, it’s nearing dusk.”

“Oh,” she said breathing the word in surprise. Had she really been here since nearly sunrise?

“The carriage is waiting for you.” He pushed the door wider and stepped aside in anticipation of her leaving.

Her gaze slipped from Dickens in the doorway to Leopold still sleeping in the bed to her discarded bonnet and gloves still in the chair.

“Do you think… what will happen to him tonight?” she asked. She cast her glance back to Dickens.

Worry lines creased his forehead. “He will likely shift again. It’s best you are not here when that happens.”

She wanted to question him why, but she remained mute. It occurred to her the beast inside Leopoldknewwho she was the night before when his pale brown gaze landed on her. He made no move to hurt her. Her gaze swiveled back to Leopold.

“Because he’s dangerous?” she asked.

“Because he does not want you to see him like that. Come, my lady. The day wanes.”

She understood then. Leopold was proud and there must be something deep inside him that despised knowing she saw him in his beast form.

“I’ll gather my things.”

She returned to the desk and gathered the book and the notes she made. Then, at the chair by the bed, she snatched up her gloves and bonnet but didn’t put them on. She cast one more longing look at Leopold, but he remained sleeping.

At the door, she looked up at Dickens. “Look after him for me.”

“As I always do, my lady.” He gave a low bow and a faint smile as he said it. Then he ushered her out the door.

Chapter 26

Shewasgoneagain.

The moment she stepped out his bedchamber door was the moment the loneliness returned.

Leopold prided himself on his restraint when it came to Bella, but in his weakened state, his guard was down, and he was quite overcome with emotion. He sensed her stepping closer to the bed when he emitted a faint moan. He hadn’t intended to let that slip, but the pain was intolerable. And then there she was, bending over him. The faint aroma of her perfume—something soft and delicate, like her—wafted to him. He inhaled it with a silent breath, relishing it, savoring it, basking in it.

His first mistake was lifting his hand to touch her face. When he did, everything changed forever. Her skin was velvety, her cheek warm. He heard the almost imperceptible intake of breath. He was quite overcome as his hand slid around to the nape of her neck where tendrils of wispy hair rested.

Then he made his second mistake. Opening his eyes to gaze up at her. He had no words for her beauty. No words to describe how she made him feel. Her brilliant blue eyes were wide and round and gleamed with wonder. The dark pupils expanded with yearning. Her face was flushed. Her pulse pounded like a hummingbird’s delicate wings. Her delicate lips parted in anticipation, and he realized with a wild, unfettered emotion, he was going to kiss her.

Her name escaping through his own lips was a prayer, a plea, a desperate need. She had no idea she looked at him with yearning. He pulled her closer with a gentle nudge. When she did not resist him, the surprise and delight edged through him. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. To taste those delicate, pink lips. To pull her into his arms and ravish her.

Deep down, the warning clanged through him, pounding his mind. If he kissed her, if he touched her lips with his, he would never be able to stop. He would pull her into his arms, into his bed, and he would love her forever.

So, he released her, closed his eyes and feigned sleep once again. A fervent prayer flickered through his mind for her to step away, to move out of arm’s reach, to expand the distance between them.

She did just that, but to his horror, she remained in the room with him. He heard the shuffle of papers, the sigh as she sat in his chair at his writing desk. He imagined her nimble fingers picking up his favorite quill and dipping it into the inkwell. Then the scratch of the tip on parchment, her faint muttering as she continued to try to translate the book.

Why had Dickens allowed her to stay here with him? Why did he not send her back to the library? That cold, cavernous library where she would remain alone. Thinking of her alone in that room sent a pang of despair through him. He did not want her to be alone. Not there. Not ever.

---