Rescuing Rapunzel (14 page)

Mother waited until Kiki’s footsteps could no longer be heard then turned her pinched expression on him. “You have been taking a lot of evening rides. Who are you seeing?”

“Just the trees.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you are attempting to hide from your obligations…”

He let out a slow breath, taking a moment to choose his words very carefully instead of blurting out his frustration. His father rarely raised a hand to him, but he would certainly remind him how to speak to his mother. “I have no desire to get out of my obligations, Mother. I am merely going out and exploring the countryside.”

“In the Black Forest?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw locking–the expression she wore whenever he committed some infraction. It had terrified him in childhood, and usually still worked its measure of guilt on him, but today Nick was too tired to feel anything.

“Yes, actually.”

“I see. Could you explain why this necessitates insulting a lady of good breeding?”

“Thought it might enliven her days. Lady Eva seemed so bored, following me around everywhere I went. She needed something to talk about.” Eva certainly never listened to anything
he
said. It did not seem to matter if he was kind or cruel. If he shouted or tried to persuade. She would not end her attempts at pursuit.

“Hrmph.” She was not buying it. “She certainly has been dramatic about it. One would think you encouraged her.” She waggled a finger at him. “But I know you. And I doubt you have interest in anyone in residence.”

“I do not know any of them.”

She let out a sigh. “Nor do you care to. You are young. Four-and-twenty is still youthful enough to appreciate the wilder things in life.”

Nick smirked.

The duchess grabbed his left ear, yanking him down so his face was even with hers. Nick could not stop himself from yelping. She had certainly perfected the art of creating the most amount of pain possible with very little effort.

A finger in his face, she started her rant, finally getting around to the real reason she was concerned about his nightly rides. “So help me, if you are plowing some peasant’s fields while toying with the ladies in residence, I will hang you by your male parts and hand the title over to your cousin.”

Nick rolled his eyes reflexively. He had heard that threat one too many times to take her seriously.

Mother must have caught his expression, for she seemed to be trying to detach his ear from his head.

“I am doing no such thing, Mother.” He ducked a little, trying to ease her grip, but he knew better than to attempt to dislodge her hand. She would not let go until she was good and ready.

She gave one final pull then released him. “I would not blame you for entertaining, but you need to be considering finding a mate. A woman of noble blood. There are plenty of young ladies here, all of whom would make excellent wives.”

Nick rubbed his ear. “Mother, please. How many times must we discuss this? I cannot consider anything of the sort. I am already betrothed.”

She waved a hand in the air, dismissing his words. “You are well aware that no one, not even Duke von Stroebel himself, will hold you to that betrothal.”

“That does not matter,” he said stiffly. “Father gave his word, and I am duty bound to uphold it.”

“Nicolas, this is absurd–”

Nick turned without a word and left. He could not stand to hear her dismiss the duty that kept him from Rapunzel. He was a man of honor. The contract had been made.

He stalked to the stable, to the escape only Ovet could offer him. At least, that was his intent.

He could not keep Rapunzel out of his mind. She was like a plague that would not vanish. He glanced at his hand. He had worn the bandage for only a few hours. By the time he had returned home and climbed into bed, the little cut had all but disappeared, replaced by a thin pink line that now, four days later, was gone unless one squinted hard to see it.

It made him sick to think about Rapunzel locked in the tower, now that he knew the reason. Her hair would make anyone a great deal of money.

He had to get out of here. Heading for the door, he was about to pull it open, when it jerked open in front of him.

One of the footmen appeared with Jess. “Lord Nicolas,” he said. “This boy here has a letter for you.”

He smiled. “Good to see you, Jess.”

Jess, jerking out of the footman’s arm, shuffled and straightened his jacket.

“Thank you. I shall see to the boy now,” Nick said.

The footman turned and walked out the door.

Jess made sure the footman was gone before speaking. “It took them an awful long time to write the reply, my lord.” He reached into his coat.

Nick nodded. “Duchess von Stroebel has always been long-winded in her letters.”

The boy handed him the letter, a thick pad of papers, several sheets at least.

Nick removed a handful of coins from his pocket for him. “You did well, Jess. I thank you. Now, go on to the kitchen and get yourself some food.”

“Oh, thank you, my lord.” The boy took off with no more prompting, his footfalls hard on the floor.

Nick glanced at the seal on it. Once, he had felt good about getting these letters. They had made him feel important, righteous. That he was doing good by not only his father’s word, but by the von Stroebels.

Yet now, holding this one in his hand, he merely felt tired. And disappointed.

He hated to admit it, but Lady Eva was right. Duty was a cold bedfellow.

Chapter 23

I watched the stars appear in the sky, like tiny diamonds popping out of the hazy darkness. Tonight, there was not a single cloud to block the pinpricks of light.

Unfortunately.

The cheery day had been enough to make me want to scream. A pretty, twinkling night only added to my disgust. How could the world be so cheerful when, inside, my heart was as black as the darkest storm?

Seven days had passed since Nick’s proclamation. Seven long, terrible days. Part of me screamed that I should have known better, that I should have expected some kind of treachery. Though I had never even considered treachery to my heart. Harm to my person? That I could understand, but this...

This was a kind of pain I had never felt, and possibly would never get over. I had considered throwing his presents out the window, but I did not. I could not bring myself to do it.

Yet the constant reminders made me cry, day and night. My head felt thick and puffy all the time from the crying and my heart ached. Concentrating on anything challenged me. I worked and worked on the dress, reminding myself that when Mother returned I would get my birthday present, and I would be able to show her a new dress. A lovely, fine, finished dress.

Unfortunately, some of the ribbons I had chosen to use would no longer work. Their material had stained from the tears pouring out of me as I sewed, and I had to make several changes in the design. Finally, I hung it near the window and let myself have a brief moment of pride at finishing it before Mother returned. It was quite lovely, the yellow and green made me think of the woods, the colors of the blooms and the plants glistening in the sunlight.

It was a happy dress.

It was a shame I felt such little joy in it when I tried it on.

I sighed as I paced my room. The letters rested on the table, along with Nick’s presents. I knew I would have to hide them, get rid of them before Mother returned, which could be any day now.
 

I walked to the storeroom and began rummaging through the herbs on the shelves, looking for something, anything to help me feel better. Several of them helped with mood, and I put together a mix of them, pausing to glance at the herbs Mother used after her missions.

I dumped a good portion of those herbs into the mixture as well. The little sticks started to break up as I pummeled them with my pestle.

While waiting for the tea to steep, I added wood to the fire and watched the low flames leap to life. “This will work,” I whispered. “She will never know he was here.”

Perhaps it was better this way. If I never saw Nick again, if he simply disappeared, he would be a secret in my heart alone. I could hide him there, and Mother would never be the wiser. I would never have to explain who he was or why he was coming to the tower.

I walked to the window, staring out at the sky, hoping for clouds. Instead, the night remained bright, the stars merry, and the moon had come out to pour scorn on my despair.

I had turned away from the window, when a loud groan of metal hinges made me jerk back around. My hands started to shake and my breath came in quick bursts.

Nick had come into the garden, bringing his horse.

He looked up at the tower.

My heart pounded in my chest, the ache returning with a powerful vengeance. I felt rage at him reappearing after I told him to leave, but a tiny part of myself was joyous at seeing him again.

Inside my emotions warred. What if he came to harm me? What if he came to tell me he loved me? What if he was here to get me out of the tower? Or take my hair? A hundred thoughts whirled through me, and not one of them knew what I should do.

“Rapunzel,” he called. “Please, let down your hair.”

I stared down at him. “Tell me why I should,” I called back.

“I wish to speak to you,” he answered. “Please.”

The ‘please’ jarred me. It was not merely a request made out of politeness. Even at this height, the desperation radiated from his voice. It tugged at my heart, begging me to try, to think that maybe, just maybe, he truly cared for me.

“I should have explained and I am sorry. Please, allow me to explain everything to you now.”

I hesitated. If he were lying, I could be setting myself up for more pain, but what if he were not? What if he truly wanted to explain things to me?

My heart torn, I realized if I did not allow him to come back up, I would never be able to live with myself. I would forever wonder if I made a mistake.

I threw down my hair. Nick grinned as the hair tumbled down, and wasted no time. With bated breath, I watched him climb with more vigor than ever before. His movements strong and sure, he climbed the braid and was at my window in what seemed like a moment.

He made it inside and his eyes held a wildness I had never seen there before. “I thank you,” he said, his breathing harsh and ragged. “Thank you for giving me this chance to explain.”

I nodded. “I believe I deserve an explanation.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Yes, you do. I should have explained before, but I…I was cowardly.” He walked away from me, slipping off his riding cloak.

“And now you are courageous?” I asked, pulling the hair inside as he took his usual seat at the table.

The last of my hair came inside, and I dropped it with a thud on the floor, making Nick stare at me for a moment. As calmly as I could, I walked across the room and picked up the dagger.

“I do not feel more courageous,” Nick said. “More the fool, for not thinking through what I said.”

I seated myself across from him, the dagger on my lap.

He looked at the dagger, then at me. “I do not believe you need that.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I have not yet heard your explanation.” My voice was level and sounded as if I were in control–a huge contrast to how I truly felt. My stomach roiled, my heart raced, partly in fear, partly in anticipation. I did not know which was the more powerful. Yet my curiosity also had been piqued. I wanted to know what would make Nick come back, after so many days away.

He nodded. “I suppose I deserve that,” he whispered. “It was not my intention to cause you any pain. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear my intentions were to come here and convince you to leave. I never anticipated the rest.”

“What rest?”

He stared at the floor. “I never expected the ache in my heart, the pain in my chest every time I left.” His blue eyes met mine. “I never expected you to get inside my heart so completely.”

I trembled. The bitter, angry side of me wanted to tell him he deserved any pain he had felt, but I held my tongue and let him finish

“When I found this tower, I merely saw a girl who needed to be helped, to be released from her bonds. Not a woman that I would feel more deeply for than any woman I have ever known.”

“Except your betrothed,” I whispered.

He snorted. “My betrothed. A responsibility I have lived with since I was seven years old.”

I blinked at him. He had known the entire time. It was not a recent development, but something he had been obligated to since childhood? And he had not once mentioned it.
 

Yet he did not seem to think fondly of his intended, which I did not understand. “Why do you call it a responsibility?”

“My betrothal was arranged between my father and hers when she was born.”

I nodded, feeling a horrible ache in my chest. A betrothal made when he was a child. It was far stronger a claim than I could ever have over him. He would have grown up with her. He would know her every mood, her every whim, and she his. They would match.