Rescuing Rapunzel (12 page)

“Do you have visitors at your home?”

“Yes, I do. And they are quite irritating.”

“So, why let them stay?”

“They are not my guests, but my little sister’s. And I do believe she invites them merely to irritate me.”

“Who are they?”

“Ladies who wish to marry me or one of the other Charming Nobles,” he muttered.

“Charming Nobles?”

His finger grazed mine, and lightning ignited inside me, going straight to my toes. It only got stronger when he laced my fingers with his again. “It is a silly nickname for me and my friends, Penn and Bryan. Created by marriage-minded mothers who want their little girls to marry someone well-titled.” Our arms bumped as he spoke, making me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from sighing at the contact.

His fingers were warm against mine and I had to make myself concentrate on what he said. “But why The Charming Nobles? Is it because you are so charming?” I smiled at him, trying to pretend I was not entranced by our laced-together fingers. Especially when he caressed my fingers with his thumb.

“Would you believe it was not?”

“So your charm has nothing to do with it?” My cheeks felt hot, for my voice sounded odd–lower and thicker.

“In this case, no.” He pulled me forward into his arms. He slid his hand underneath my hair and ran the other over my back. His touch was warm, and controlled and oh so intense. I wrapped my arms around him, mimicking the way his hands moved as I laid my cheek against his shoulder.

“But you are so charming.” His heart beat fast beneath my ear and the hard planes of his chest pressed against my soft curves. My stomach twisted and danced.

He tipped his head and kissed my forehead. Warmth spread through my body at the delicate touch. His hold loosened. “I really must be going. My mother already suspects me of all sorts of male debauchery and I hate to encourage her wild thoughts.”

I smiled at him as we walked to the window and I lowered my hair. He watched the ells fall.

“How you manage to control the weight of those tresses is a wonder.”

I shrugged. “The plaits are easier to manage when they are bound into one braid.”

He glanced at the last of the hair, sliding from the floor, out the window, until it reached my head, and I stumbled.

He caught my arm. “The tresses are heavy.”

I smiled. “The hair is woven into braids, so they are plaits of hair, not tresses. Tresses would signify loose hair.” I twisted my head back and forth, hoping to illustrate my point, anything to distract from my disappointment at the lack of contact with Nick.

I wondered if he missed the connection as well, for he touched my cheek, his finger slipping into a loose strand, too short to work into the braid. “Here is a tress.”

I reached for the hair, ignoring the hum my body made, and pulled it from his fingers, quickly braiding it. “It is a plait.”

“There is a tress over here…” he said with a smile, snagging the hair and twirling it around his finger.

I growled, pulling the piece away.

He smiled. “My little Tressey…” He touched my cheek. “Does it hurt?” He stroked one of the short hairs around my face out of my eyes.

“What?”

“When I climb. Does it hurt?”

“No.” My skin prickled as he ran his fingers over my temple, along my jaw, lingering just under my chin. Any frustration I felt from his teasing faded into nothing.

“Good,” he said, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss against my lips.

Lightning flowed through my veins, even though the kiss only lasted a moment. It was barely a touch but it felt singed into my mind and the moment for all time. He slid his lips across mine–the barest of touches–and my body ignited. The kiss ended, too soon, and I was once again separate from him.

“Good night, Tressey,” Nick whispered, caressing my cheek with his thumb. He turned to the window and started to climb down.

“Good night.” I watched him move down the braids as though he had done it a hundred times. As he walked through the garden and out the door, I could not help grinning. I watched until I could no longer see him, then I turned to the sky, and the stars twinkling in the night.

Chapter 20

The swish of the many layers of a female’s skirt gave Nick pause.

Damn, he was being followed.

Again.

He had considered using the servant’s entrance, but in the end decided to take the main corridor through the castle–it was closer to the stables.

He had woken this morning thinking he was finally free to do what he had been wanting to do since the moment he left the tower–go back to Rapunzel. Her singing had become a constant melody in his mind and, even now, he could feel the press of her lips against his.

He needed to see her again.

Badly.

It seemed, however, that was not in the stars for his day.

The rustling behind him closed in on him. Was it his sister again? He hoped so, for at least Kiki could be ignored, regardless of propriety.

He paused, adjusted his riding boots and glanced back. Drat.

“Lady Eva.” He stood to greet her.

She paused–obviously unsettled to be caught in her pursuit–but recovered her coquettish smile in a breath. “My Lord von Hohburg.” Her curtsey was even lower this time, as was the cut of her gown.

He clenched his hands behind his back and looked away until she rose, which seemed to take an inordinately long time. He barely managed to stifle a sigh of impatience. Not only was she delaying him, he would have to dredge up the proper manner of small talk for her.

Why had he not kept walking? “How are you this evening, my lady?”

“Very well, thank you, my lord.” She twisted to the side, pushing out her bosom, a smile on her face. “You seem to be in quite a hurry, my lord. What takes you away from the castle in such a rush today?”

“I am going for a ride. In the Black Forest.”

Lady Eva’s face paled for a moment, before regaining color. “Why on earth would you want to go there? It is a horrible place, dark and dangerous. Surely a man of your stature could find somewhere more suitable to ride?” She ran her fingers along the neckline of her dress as she spoke.

“I find it peaceful.”

“Truly? With robbers lying in wait for unsuspecting travelers? You are a strange one, my lord, finding peace in such chaos.” She rolled her eyes.

“The Black Forest is not nearly as dangerous as it used to be. Now if you will excuse me.” Nick started to head toward the main entrance again.

“I doubt you will find what you seek in the woods. Only in the arms of a wife will you find that.”

He narrowed his gaze. “You know I cannot do that.” He took a step away from her. “You must put this pursuit aside, my lady. I am not suitable.”

She stepped forward, pushing out her bosom, yet her eyes turned cold and dark. “It is not me who needs to stop, my lord.”

“I know not of what you speak. Good day.” He started to walk away.

“Do not hide behind the claims of duty. Your duty is a joke, and has been for years. You cannot be the martyred son all your life.”

Nick spun around, glaring at her. “You know nothing of my responsibilities, my lady. Do not profess otherwise.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know your responsibilities prevent you from seeing what is right in front of you.” She pressed her arms under her breasts, making certain her curves were visible. “Duty is a cold bed partner.”

Nick froze, unable to speak, as she spun around and walked calmly back toward her rooms. His hands shook and a fire burned in his belly. How could she accuse him of not taking his duties seriously? He devoted his life to the title he would gain upon his thirtieth birthday. He did not gallivant like many men his age. He loved his family and he fulfilled his responsibilities.

How dare she claim he hid behind them? She did not know of what she spoke. He had responsibilities, and he damn well lived up–

Nick froze.

One particular responsibility came to mind. The one he had written about just this morning.
Was
he living up to that one? Suddenly, he did not think so. He was riding off to a tower, to convince a girl to trust him enough to let him rescue her. Yet in his heart he knew it was no longer that simple. He had kissed her. He…he cared for her.

He had to stop going. He
did
have responsibilities. Duties to uphold. That was what men of honor did. They stood by their word. He had to forget about the girl with the long golden hair.

The letter in his pocket felt heavy as an anvil. His valet had penned a letter to the Duke and Duchess von Stroebel requesting another audience with them, as was required every year. He had given it no thought when the valet handed the letter to him this morning.

Yet after speaking to Eva, the letter felt twice as sharp, a stab of a sword, right into his heart. The thought of sitting through that audience made him feel ill. Not that the von Stroebels were horrible people, far from it. They were quite kind, but filled with sorrow.

Yet their sorrow was partially Nick’s, and he felt like the worst kind of person for not remembering that.

He would have to tell Rapunzel.

He headed out to the stables. Jess had already saddled Ovet and she was waiting for him, nickering in greeting. He stroked the horse’s brown nose and she sniffed him twice, before he reached into his pocket for an apple. Ovet swallowed it in an instant, thanking him with a toss of her chestnut mane.

Jess was mucking out a stall when Nick called to him. The boy immediately ran to his side.

Nick produced the sealed letter. “This letter needs to be delivered to Duke and Duchess von Stroebel.”

The boy nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

Nick climbed into the saddle. Glancing back at Jess, he tossed him a coin.

The boy caught it, a grin on his face.

“You are a fine young man, Jess. Wait for a reply and come straight back. The faster you return, the better the bonus.”

“Yes, my lord. Right away, my lord.” He dashed off to the rear of the stables to get his own horse ready.

Chapter 21

Something was on Nick’s mind. I could tell from the moment he came through the window. Oh, he was quite friendly and very kind, as usual.

Yet something lingered there, a hidden anxiety that never seemed to leave his eyes. Even when I thanked him again for the beautiful feather, he still seemed lost in thought.

He seated himself at the table and I got the tea service. The feather lay on the table, near the stones, and as I prepared the tea, he picked it up, stroking each of the stones with it like a painter would stroke a canvas. I set the teacups and pot on the table, and he took my hand.

“Rapunzel,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

He opened my hand and stroked my palm with the most delicate touch, using the soft edges of the feather.

My breath caught in my throat. He circled my palm, and each caress sent lightning through my body, making my insides light on fire.

He brushed the feather along my palm, until he reached my pinky finger, and then let it slide to the tip and back to the center. My body felt both tense and relaxed at the same time, like a coil had tightened inside me, yet it was one that wanted to be tightened.

He repeated the gesture with each of my fingers, sending shudders of delight through me.

I did not realize I held my breath until he paused, caressed the center of my palm and lifted the feather away.

“Feathers are so soft.” Nick stared at me as he spoke, his eyelids heavy and his eyes deepening to a darker, midnight blue. The look alone sent a violent shiver through me.

The tension that had filled the room on his arrival had disappeared, replaced with the passion I saw in his eyes. I stepped backward, grabbing the chair for support, since my hands had started to tremble under his gaze.

“Are you cold, Rapunzel?” His voice was deeper and more resonating than before. I could not explain it, but those few words sent more shivers through me, and I wrapped my arms around my body. I was not sure if it was cold, but the expression on his face certainly made me feel exposed.

He stood directly in front of me. “Tressey,” he whispered, sending another shiver through me.

Everything in the room seemed magnified–the shadows darker, the light even brighter. The crackle of the fire louder than usual. The air, suddenly thick and heavy with anticipation.

Nick put his hands on my shoulders and the heat burned my skin, sending pulses through my body.

Rising to meet him, I tipped my head to see his expression, a mix of emotions that I did not understand–both caring and sadness hiding in his eyes. His gaze traveled down my face to my throat. So intense, it felt physical. His breath dusted my skin. His mouth opened, just slightly.

My lip quivered.

Nick leaned closer. My heart hammered in my chest and I knew not what to do. I was rooted to the spot, unsure if I should move or stay still. He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, and it seemed his touch sparked my skin to flames.