Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(14)
“Oh no, it’s much better this way. I don’t think I’d be able to relax if everything were marble and gold. I’m just surprised that given you are a prince, you didn’t grow up in some place fancier.”
“It was my parents’ wish to focus on simplicity and comfort over an overt display of wealth, so when my father was still the prince, he chose to build this house and settle here during the summers.” Edward steers me toward the living room and indicates that I settle on a dark green couch before taking a chair across from me. The large brick fireplace in the sitting room has a homey, country feel to it. A few paintings adorn the top of the fireplace. One, in particular, catches my eye—an extremely handsome man, whom I suspect is where Edward gets his looks from.
“My grandparents were known for their reckless extravagance and decadent lifestyle, which was not well-received by the people. It did not help that my grandfather went mad in his later years. Therefore, when my parents ascended the throne, they attempted to repair the royal family’s image. They made a conscious effort to live a healthy and productive life, such as adherence to industriousness, morality, punctuality . . .” his voice drifts off when Amelie approaches us, carrying a jug and two cups.
“Dinner will be ready in a quarter-hour,” she announces. “Your Highness, I hope you’ll forgive that Bertram has already raided the kitchen. It seems that he couldn’t wait a second longer to sate his hunger.” She sounds exasperated.
Edward grins. “Leave him be. The lad’s worn out. As a matter of fact . . .” his gaze strays to my face, “I believe it is not necessary to prepare a normal dinner with cutlery and napkins. It has been a long journey, and we have already partaken of refreshments whilst on the train. A simpler fare should suffice. Kat, what do you say to a grilled ham and cheese sandwich?”
“That sounds wonderful. But how . . .” He squeezes my hand and gives me a warning look. I gulp down the rest of my sentence, but I can’t ignore the question. How does he know that I have a weakness for grilled ham and cheese sandwiches?
The tea, along with the fire blazing merrily in the grate, proves to be the balm to soothe my soul. The sandwiches are also heavenly—I have to restrain myself from licking my fingers clean of melted cheese. I attempt harmless small talk, like asking who the guy in the painting is—his great-great-grandfather, who reminds me of the infamous English poet, Lord Byron—or how long it snows in the winter. Edward answers me readily, but I sense there’s something weighing on his mind, which I can totally relate to. I’m desperately worried about how to go home, but with servants dropping in now and then, we can't discuss the mystery of my being here.
After dinner, Edward calls for Amelie. “See to the princess’s needs before we retire. Have Mabel or more servants assist you when necessary. There are a few matters I need to take care of.”
Amelie orders for a hot bath to be prepared. This is kind of alarming. A large brass tub is carried into the bedroom, a silken screen set up, and then the maids start carrying buckets of hot water into the room. Uh-oh. Looks like they haven’t installed modern plumbing.
Uncomfortable with all those servants going up and down the stairs, I cross over to the threshold and try to take the pail from a middle-aged woman with graying hair. I have to do something rather than lounging in a chair and watching the maids pour water into the tub.
“Let me have the pail, please.”
The woman jerks back in surprise. “But Your Highness—”
“If it’s going to be my bath, then I’m going to lend a hand.”
Despite her protests, I grab the pail and haul it toward the tub. I had expected Amelie to stop me, but maybe since I don’t splash any water or teeter dangerously, she lets me take over without further comment.
Getting out of that heavy brocaded gown is a pain, so I let Amelie undress me, but I refuse her offer to wash my hair. The soaps are handmade and smell natural, a nice change from the chemical smell from our modern manufactured brands. Once I’m done bathing, Amelie enters the room—it seems she has the sense of a trained hound—carrying a snowy nightgown, and insists on drying and brushing my hair.
“By the way, the queen asked me to give you this.” She fishes a small ruby pendant from her pocket. “Wear it when His Highness . . . when you go to bed.”
“I’d rather not, thank you.” I place the pendant on the table. “I don’t like having any ornaments on while I sleep.”
“But you should.” She flushes—the first time I’ve seen her look discomfited. “Her Majesty specifically requested you wear it. It’s a charm for, ahem, procreation.”
It’s my turn to get embarrassed. At dinner and during the bath, I had briefly wondered how we’re going to deal with sleeping in the same room, but I didn’t dare to ask Edward. As I’ve made it clear that I have no memory of him, it’s unlikely he’ll demand his husband rights tonight. On the other hand, the prince does seem quite besotted with me. If his gaze is intense enough to kindle a fire, then what can happen when we’re alone and expected to . . . um . . . procreate?
A wave of heat washes over me when I imagine him taking his clothes off, his lips hot on my skin, his hands moving over my body . . .
Stop. I will not succumb to mindless lust. I wouldn’t even be having these ridiculous thoughts if he weren’t the hottest guy I’ve ever met.