Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(15)
“Your Highness.” Amelie steps aside, and I’m confronted with the object of my insta-lust. Said object has taken off his dark jacket and is currently wearing only a pure white shirt and black pants.
My heartbeat starts racing and my throat goes dry. I don’t have heaps of experience with men, but I swear a muscle moves in his throat when he looks at me. The nightgown is long-sleeved and reaches right to my ankles, but I feel naked under his heated gaze.
“Amelie, wait . . .” My voice comes out as squeaky as a mouse. Amelie probably didn’t even hear me, for she curtsies briefly and walks away. The door closes behind her with a soft thud.
I’m now completely alone with the prince.
6
My heart is pounding in my ears. To make things worse, I hear the sound of a key turning.
“Did you lock the door?”
A chuckle escapes him.
“Relax, Kat,” he says, his voice deep, warm, and startlingly sensual. “I wasn’t planning on taking you to bed, however appealing the idea is. Locking the door is merely a precaution. Suppose Amelie enters our room in the morning and discovers that we aren’t sharing a bed? Remember, we have to keep up appearances.”
“Oh.” I didn’t consider that servants might enter without knocking. Amelie seems capable of being discreet. “Right. Okay. Then I’ll take the lounge over there and—”
“Absolutely not. I will not have my wife freezing.” He strides across the room, and for a second, I think he’s going to touch me, but he sinks into an armchair a few feet away.
“We should talk.”
Suddenly, the locked door sounds like a good idea.
“Right.” I push back a chunk of hair that fell over my eyes, and the movement causes my nightgown to slip a bit lower, baring my collarbone. Edward looks away, but a telltale blush starts spreading from his ear. As I snatch up a wrap and pull it around my shoulders, I wonder how old he is. He definitely isn’t the kind of playboy prince you read in romances.
“Has anyone unusual—for example, has a goblin, or some other supernatural being shown up?”
Bemused, I shake my head.
He purses his lips, apparently deep in thought for a moment.
“Do you remember anything before you woke up in that scanty dress?”
It takes a moment until I realize he is referring to my Victoria’s Secret slip.
“Well, before I passed out, I was at . . . at home.” Better not tell him that I was at Jason’s house. How he can blush just from seeing my collarbone gives me the idea that Athelia must be pretty strict with morals and propriety. At least Edward’s education is. “I took a shower, it was late, and I was ready to go to sleep, when the book appeared out of nowhere. I got sucked into it, and the next thing I can remember is that I woke up in that tiny room. Then you came in.”
“What is the book you speak of? Is it the old picture book, titled Cinderella, that you accidentally ripped up and came to Athelia in the first place?”
“No, it’s a plain text paperback, a retelling of Cinderella. It certainly isn’t new. I’ve had it for several years since high school, but it’s one of my favorites, and I know I took special care with it.” Wait, when we were on the train, didn’t he tell me that I had ripped apart The Ugly Stepsister? Why is he talking about some old picture book called Cinderella?
And then I realize another thing that has confused me for ages: I DID have an old Cinderella book, but it seems to have vanished, even though I remember I had stashed it away in a box in the attic. But when Mom asked me to clean out the attic for a yard sale, I could never find it.
Edward frowns. “Did you mention that it has been several years since you were in high school?”
I nod, wondering why he asks. “Seven years, I think. I got the book when Gabriel . . . in my last year of high school.”
“I thought you looked slightly different from what I remember,” he says slowly. “Apparently, the explanation is that you have aged seven years since I met you. Which means that you must be twenty-four now. However, by some reason I have yet to fathom, time has remained the same here.”
Part of me gets annoyed when he uses the word “aged,” even though twenty-four is by no means old . . . or is it by Athelia’s standards? “If I did meet you when I was in high school, then I guess I’m too old for you now.”
His gaze slides over my body, slowly and deliberately. A wolfish gleam lights in his eyes. “I see no problem.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “How old are you?”
He ignores my question. “We are bound by marriage, and nothing will change that. Certainly not an inconsequential matter of age. But . . .” Suddenly, he looks as though thunder has struck his face. “Since you’re past twenty, then it’s highly possible that . . . are you married?”
There’s such a dejected look on his face that I shake my head without thinking.
“Then are you engaged?”
“Not . . . no.”
“Truly?” There’s a shrewdness in his expression as he searches my face. “It seems highly unlikely that an attractive young lady like you would not have at least a suitor or an admirer.”
I have to suppress a smile. His speech, along with the surroundings, make me feel like I’ve traveled back in time. I have an image of Jason dressed in a black tux and holding a bunch of roses and kneeling before me. Or him trying to climb up to my balcony, Romeo-style.