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  Blinded by fury and tears, Astrid turned and ran. She would not marry the Prince now! Hateful, cruel man that he was! She would rather run away this very night than stand in front of their families and pledge to love, honour and obey that … that duplicitous scoundrel!

  She didn’t hear him call her name. Nor did she hear his footsteps behind her. She was crying too hard to hear anything. Not until he loudly cursed the darkness did she realise with a start that he was coming after her, She darted into the trees but, as she glanced back over her shoulder, Astrid lost her footing, coming down hard on the side of her foot and wrenching her ankle.

  “Damn and blast it!” she hissed. As well as hurting herself she had also managed to lose her shoe. She felt around for it, knowing she would have to keep moving despite the pain.

  “Is this what you are looking for?”

  A pair of booted legs appeared in front of her. Astrid couldn’t look up for fear Roman would see it was her. Instead, she held out her hand. “Thank you.”

  Ignoring it, Roman crouched down in front of her. “You seem to make a habit of losing your shoes,” he said, grasping her foot and checking it for damage. “I seem to remember a ruby slipper you left behind at the Bachelor’s Ball - and another you lost in the orchard.”

  Startled, Astrid’s lifted her head. Roman pulled off her cap and her golden hair fell around her shoulders.

  “I won’t marry you,” she muttered, her face crimson with embarrassment.

  “Yes you will, Astrid,” Roman said as he lifted her into his arms.

  “No I won’t!” she sputtered crossly as he started walking back the way they had come. “I refuse to marry someone who cavorts with another behind my back.” Although she was in no fit position to demand he release her, that didn’t mean she would simply bend to his will.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Even if that other is you?”

  “But you didn’t know that!”

  He laughed. “Good God, woman! Credit me with the good sense to recognise my own fiancée! Just because you wore a mask and called yourself Contessa did not mean I was blind to the bleeding obvious!”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything?” Had he been laughing at her behind her back? The thought was intolerable!

  “Because it was a Masquerade Ball,” Roman said laconically. “You were supposed to reveal yourself at the midnight fireworks, not jump over the balustrade and run away!”

  Astrid turned her eyes up to the heavens. To hear him tell the tale made her sound foolish indeed. “What else was I to do? I thought you hated me!”

  “I never hated you,” Roman sighed. “Astrid, I was little more than a child too when we were betrothed and, I admit, that made me angry and resentful. But I never hated you.”

  “Well you certainly acted like you did!”

  “Perhaps I did but it wasn’t meant that way.” He looked down at her. “You just seemed like such a prim and proper young lady that I couldn’t imagine us having anything in common.”

  “Mother!” Astrid huffed an angry sigh. “I was treated to the dire consequences lecture every time we went to the Palace. That was why I pretended to be the Contessa in the first place. I wanted you to see what I was really like.” She looked up at him. “I had every intention of telling you it was me.”

  “When?” he asked mockingly, raising his brows. “At our wedding?”

  “Things just kept getting in the way,” Astrid muttered. “Like today. I heard you and Sir Olivier talking. It sounded like you were going to meet her this evening.”

  “Her? Meaning you? I did, remember?” He laughed at her disgruntled expression. “Come now, Astrid! If I hand’t forced your hand today, we would have married tomorrow with all this between us.” His look turned serious. “I didn’t want that.”

  They had crossed the gardens and were nearing the lodge. Roman strolled up to the front of the house. “No!” Astrid squeaked tugging at his shirt. “Go round the back, Roman!”

  Roman looked down at his betrothed. “Why?”

  Astrid grimaced. “Because Mother will be furious if she sees me like this!”

  “Astrid, you are a grown woman, about to be married. What on earth do you think your Mother is going to say?”

  “Lord. I don’t know. Let’s start with the fact I am not in bed with a headache as I claimed; that I am wearing boys’ clothes borrowed from one of the servants; that my hair is down and looks an absolute fright and - and this is the clincher - I am being carried home in this state by none other than the Prince himself in the middle of the night!” She tugged at his ear. “Now go round the bloody back!”

  Roman ignored her and continued up the path to the front door. He shifted her in his arms and Astrid had no choice but to hold on to his neck. He banged heavily on the door.

  “Roman!” Astrid squealed. “Take me round the back! I will get in from there.”

  Still ignoring her, Roman gave the door another resounding thump. There came the sound of confused activity from the other side of the door before it was opened by the butler who was holding a lamp in one hand and a poker in the other.

  “Your Highness,” he rumbled, although he was clearly confounded by the sight of Prince Roman so late at night. Then he noticed the Prince was holding Astrid in his arms. “Lady Astrid?” he asked, looking even more perplexed. Had the situation not been so humiliating, Astrid might have laughed at the incongruity of seeing the staid butler in his flannel nightshirt and night cap and wielding a poker. Roman nodded politely to the butler, marched across the hall and strode up the staircase.

  “Put me down!” Astrid hissed. Her appeals fell on deaf ears. Without breaking stride, Roman continued down the hallway, his face set in determined lines. Delphi appeared on the landing. She saw her sister, still wearing her ridiculous disguise, struggling in the arms of the Prince. “Oh no!” she groaned.

  Which room?” Roman asked. Delphi ran ahead to open the door for him and the Prince strode in and dropped her gently but firmly onto her bed.

  “I will see you tomorrow at the chapel,” he said ominously and turned to leave.

  “I won’t be there!” Astrid shouted after him. “You haven’t even said that you like me!”

  Roman stopped in his tracks. He walked slowly back to the bed. Refusing to be cowed, Astrid glared at him.

  “You will be there, Astrid,” he said evenly and kissed her firmly on the mouth. “And just so you know - of course I like you! The fact of the matter is that I have loved you since you fell out of a tree and into my arms.” And then, having said his piece, the Prince strolled out of the room.

  Still dressed in his night attire and looking utterly flummoxed by what was happening, Astrid’s father came to the doorway. As Prince Roman passed him, he bowed respectfully. “I am sure your daughter will explain everything, Lord Rothshire,” the Prince said and disappeared down the stairs.

  Astrid sighed happily and flopped back on her bed. Her father entered the room. He was swiftly followed by her mother. They each took turns to be very cross with Astrid but she didn’t care because her fiancée loved her.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you mad? There are a thousand things you’re supposed to be doing today!” Delphi jabbed her finger crossly at her sister. “You cannot do this!”

  “It’s my wedding day, Delphi. Surely I should be able to do what I want?”

  “Well you can’t, so hard luck! There are traditions and ceremonies and … and other stuff that must be taken into account.”

  “You sound exactly like the Duchess!” Astrid laughed. Nothing could touch her happiness this day. Roman loved her. Had loved her since the day she fell into his arms! The very same day, in fact, that she had realised she loved him. Could anything be more perfect?

  “You are looking annoyingly pleased with yourself, Astrid, and, quite frankly, I don’t think you should be after last night.”

  “I know.” Astrid’s smile slipped away. She d
id feel guilty for getting her Delphi into trouble. Her sister was wise in ways Astrid could never hope to be. “I should have done as you said and told him at the Ball,” she admitted, taking her sister by the hand. “You are a wonderful, clever sister and I should listen to you more.”

  Delphi looked at Astrid forlornly. “But you’re not going to in this instance are you?”

  “No,” Astrid shrugged. “I have things that I must do.”

  “Like what, exactly?”

  “I have to collect something from Widow Thorn in town.”

  “The seamstress? Could she not have had it sent?”

  “No. I asked her not to.”

  “Then send Betsy for it. You cannot afford the time to go dashing into town.” Delphi crossed over to the mannequin that was standing in one corner of the room. It was wearing the enormous ruffled creation the Duchess had commissioned for Astrid’s wedding. “It’s going to take hours to get you into this.”

  “I wish to collect it myself. I promise I will be back in plenty of time to get ready for the wedding.”

  “Very well.” Delphi sighed, admitting defeat. “But please, remember to stay clear of the wedding parade.” As they would arrive much later, Astrid and her father were the only members of the wedding party not expected to take part in the parade. “Mother and I will be riding in the first carriage with the King and Queen. Roman and his groomsman will be in the second carriage.”

  “Of course,” Astrid reassured her sister. “Now stop worrying and get ready for the parade!”

  Dressed in the same apparel she had worn the evening before, Astrid pushed her way through the crowds that lined the streets waiting for a glimpse of the Royals. A few of them tutted at the young lad who was shoving through the throng with a package slung over his shoulder.

  “Watch where you’re going, you young scallywag!”

  “Sorry!” Astrid called back and kept moving. She could hear from the roar of the crowds that the Royal carriages were nearing.

  “Ooh! Look ‘ow ‘andsome the Prince is in all his finery!” a flower seller cooed to her friend. Astrid jumped up and down, trying to catch a glimpse. “Oi, shove off out the way!” The woman elbowed Astrid aside and into the road, startling the lead horses.

  “Careful, boy!” the coachman bellowed. Astrid scrambled out of the way, keeping her head low as the Royal carriage passed by. She waited for the second carriage and saw Roman holding up his arm and respectfully saluting the crowds. She watched him and her heart swelled with her love for him and she knew what she must do. She looked down the street to make sure the first carriage was out of sight then, without a second’s thought, Astrid started running. The carriage was moving slowly and she soon caught up and took a running jump. With a thud, she landed on the footplate.

  “What the devil!” Sir Olivier yelled, twisting round to grab her.

  “No!” Roman called, “I know this young scamp!” He laughed and reached out, tweaking his fiancée’s nose as though she were a cheeky young boy. To the astonishment of the other passengers and the watching crowds, Astrid leaned over and kissed him full on the lips.

  “I love you, your Highness,” she told him and jumped down from the carriage and disappeared into the crowds.

  “I hope you appreciate the trouble I will be in with your Mother,” the Duke chided as he helped Astrid out of the carriage.

  “Come now, Father,” Astrid teased, taking his arm, “We mustn’t let the dictates of the Duchess come between us and a little spontaneity.”

  “That’s easy for you to say! You will be off on your honeymoon when your Mother recovers from the shock.”

  Father and daughter chuckled conspiratorially as the trumpets rang out to signal their arrival. The great oaken doors opened and the organ began to play. All eyes turned to the back of the chapel to witness the entrance of the bride and, as Astrid swept down the aisle, members of the congregation gasped in open-mouthed wonder.

  “Good Lord! It was her all along!” a Lady whispered loudly. “Of course it was!” her companion rebuked her, as though it had always been too obvious to mention.

  The Duchess glared balefully at her husband and eldest daughter but Astrid simply could not make herself care. She caught Delphi’s eye and the two sisters shared a moment of impish delight. Then she turned her gaze to the altar where her future husband awaited her.

  At a nudge from one of his groomsman, Roman looked back. His bride was proceeding down the aisle dressed in a silver and white Harlequin costume. The Prince smiled broadly - then he spotted the silver slippers adorned with two little white pom-poms she wore upon her feet and he left out a deep, booming laugh which filled the chapel. He stepped forward and held out his arms to his bride.

  Astrid could not restrain herself. She let go of her father and ran down the aisle and launched herself at her groom. Roman caught her, sweeping her up into his embrace and claiming her in a fierce kiss.

  The Queen stood and clapped the unconventional display. She had, of course, been party to the ruse all along. The King, who was just thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, joined her. Astrid looked from her father to her mother and then her sister. Her heart thrilled as her family joined in the applause. Even the Duchess, it seemed, could not help the smile that pulled at her lips.

  The whole thing was completely scandalous and simply not the done thing at all. Which was just exactly the sort of wedding Astrid had always imagined.

  Lavender – A Free Short Story

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  A re-imagining of the classic fairy-tale Goose Girl

  Delphi was supposed to marry a Prince. Instead she is sleeping in a barn and selling lavender at the market.

  Lady Delphi Rothshire knew little about the world outside her family until the day she was sent to marry Prince Julian. On her first day away from home, she learns it is possible to be abducted, usurped and abandoned in a surprisingly short space of time and yet still keep up one’s spirits.

  Unable to tell anyone who she is for fear of losing her tongue, Delphi must find a way to survive in her new world and to reclaim her Prince. But how is she to do that when she is stuck in the middle of nowhere with only a faded, yellow dress on her back as she sells lavender at market for a curmudgeonly old bat named Minnie?

  It certainly doesn’t help that an irritatingly handsome Farm Boy is proving to be an attractive but unwanted distraction!

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  Felicity Harper’s Enchanting Tales

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  Cursed

  Chapter One

  His heavy brow creased as he watched her. She was perched on the stump of a fallen tree, a sad smile playing across her soft lips. What thoughts brought such stillness? He had wondered the same thought many times before.

  Her sadness never lingered long.

  A small hand tucked a russet curl behind her ear. Charcoal marked its passage across her cheek. His dark eyes lingered there. Mesmerised. Was her skin really so soft as it seemed? How would it feel beneath his large, calloused hands?

  As though he would ever know.

  He would never allow himse
lf near such a creature - let alone lay one of his brutal hands upon her flesh.

  A sudden smile transformed her face. She held out her hand as though someone were there with her.

  “A dance?” she asked. “Why! I would be delighted, Sir!”

  She stood and dipped into a curtsy. Unseen, his lip curled in a semblance of a smile as he watched her dance around the little clearing. When first he had witnessed her, he had thought the girl feeble-minded. Now, he understood. She was lonely.

  “Henrietta!” A shrill, distant call broke the spell.

  “It seems I must go,” she said and held out her hand.

  “Henrietta!”

  “Yes! Yes! I’m coming!” she muttered, stooping to gather her things into her basket.

  A cramp squeezed his thigh. He shifted position and, as he did so, a twig snapped beneath him. The girl paused and clutched her basket to her chest. He held his breath and waited.

  “Henrietta! Where are you?” There were two voices now, each as strident in tone as the other.

  “I’m here!” she called back and then, with one last look around, she hurried away.

  He shook his large head. This did him no good. Watching her served only to remind him what he could not have. It was better when he had known only darkness. At least then he had not suffered this gnawing sense of longing. Straightening to his full colossal height, the ogre turned and walked away.

  Chapter Two

  Prudence, Cecilia and Millicent were pacing the garden as Henrietta emerged from the shadow of the trees. She looked at their collective frowns and sighed. The younger girls must have told Prudence that Henrietta wouldn’t be attending the Binkley Autumn Ball that evening.

  “What have you been doing?” Prudence asked, picking leaves out of Henrietta’s tangled curls. “What so attracts you to that forest I’ll never know,” she muttered, bossily taking the basket from her sister and putting it down on the bench.