Enamoured (Escape Fantasy Romance) (13 page)

Melanie sucked in a breath. Uh-oh. Her stomach roiled. “Get away from me.”

Cole lowered his head so that he could meet her gaze directly. “We need to talk, Mel. When this is all over, you and I are going to talk. This doesn’t end here. I—I care about you.”

She couldn’t help it. All the bobbing, the rocking, the—oh, god, the swaying. She doubled over and threw up.

Esmerelda smoothed her wings, and tried not to shift. Again. She wriggled her toes in her slippers, the solid parquetry providing a hard yet sympathetic support. She flicked a quick glance over at Rump. The vexatious imp leaned with a casual ease against the wall, apparently quite comfortable with the right royal bollocking they were about to receive. No, not royal, republican, she corrected. The Grand Fairy Coordinator was no longer the Fairy Queen, not since the referendum.

The G.F.C. office was cool, a blessing after the sticky humid air she and Rump had had to endure on their mission. She swallowed. The mission they’d spectacularly failed at. While the outer edges of the chamber were dim, there was enough light streaming through the cathedral windows to catch the sparkles on Matilda’s wings. The far wall sconces remained unlit. Probably to cut costs, Essie thought sourly.

Matilda closed the folder with a quiet, formidable snap, and glanced over the large desk.

“Please explain.” Her words were calm, but Esmerelda could sense the disappointment, the frustration buried there.

“I’m—I’m not sure if I can,” Esmerelda answered, frowning. “Nothing went to plan, at all.”

The G.F.C. arched a delicate eyebrow. “I can see that. Our Frog Prince was injured—fortunately he’ll live. Why don’t we start there? How is it that our Frog Prince took a bullet?”

Esmerelda nodded. “Uh, he turned out to be quite sweet, actually. He made a scene at the home of his employer—the king, for the purpose of our tale,” Esmerelda quickly inserted. “And he, uh, felt it necessary to return and apologise. He just happened to be wounded by said king in the process.”

The G.F.C.’s brow wrinkled, ever so slightly. “What kind of scene?”

Esmerelda blinked. “Pardon?”

“What kind of scene did our Frog Prince cause?”

Oh, fungus. She’d have to own up to the fairy dust doping incident. Fungus, fungus, fungus.

“Actually, G.F.C., we’d all arrived there with the intention of distracting the Interferer and the Princess, and, well,” Rump shrugged, “We succeeding in putting a little distance between them at the time.”

Matilda eyed Rump for a moment, and Esmerelda held her breath. “I see. But obviously, it wasn’t enough. Our Frog Prince has lost his Princess.” The G.F.C. rose from her seat, and drifted over to the windows that looked over Fantasia, the capital city of Fairy Isle. Her scarlet gown swished and swayed with her movement, like the petals of a flower caught in a soft spring breeze.

“This is disastrous.” Matilda folded her arms, and continued to gaze out of the window. “We have a failed Fairy Tale. I can’t remember ever having a failed Fairy Tale.” She turned and fixed them with a steely glare. “Ever.”

Esmerelda shifted. “I’m so sorry, Your Excellency. What happens next?”

The G.F.C. returned to the desk, her expression sombre. “Good question. This…lapse cannot go unpunished. You allowed Fate to step in to a Fairy Tale. We can’t have that. None of those humans learned their lessons. There will be repercussions…” she trailed off as she glanced down at the desk absently. “So many repercussions.”

”Perhaps not,” Rump said softly.

Esmerelda’s eyes widened. Oh, no, no. Don’t nay-say the G.F.C. He’d find himself back in Confinement, in worse conditions than before. She shot him a quick frown, and gave a little shake of her head. Ix-nay on the nay say.

The G.F.C.’s gaze slowly swivelled beyond Esmerelda to Rumpelstiltskin. The temperature dropped considerably within the room. Oh, fungus, is that a breeze? Esmerelda’s wings fluttered, stirring a deep unease. Tendrils of ice cracked across the large panes of glass behind the Grand Fairy Co-ordinator, and her wings started to glow.

“Pardon?” her voice was low, but intense, like a rolling storm, causing the windows to rattle in their frames.

Rump straightened from the wall and strolled over to join Esmerelda. “Maybe things worked out the way they should.”

Their leader stared at him for a moment, then her eyes widened. “You invited Fate to interfere.”

“No!” Esmerelda gasped, and whirled to stare at Rump. “No, I’m sure that’s not the…” Rump met her gaze with equanimity. He wasn’t denying it. Wasn’t even shocked by the accusation.

“I’m sure there must be another explanation, G.F.C.,” Esmerelda said calmly. There’d better be. Otherwise Rump had just tarnished her hard-won reputation, had spoiled her perfect record, had intentionally manipulated her, had lied, deceived and betrayed her—and for what? Fate had no part in a Fairy Tale. If he had—well, if she didn’t wind up in Confinement for her part in it, no matter how unintentional, the very least she’d get would be a probation—wouldn’t that go down with a snigger and a giggle at the next Fairy Council meeting? No, there had to be another explanation.

“Actually, there is,” a deep voice intoned, reverberating through the room like a low rumbling thunder.

Esmerelda glanced around in surprise. Who…?

The double doors to the G.F.C.’s chamber swung inward, and a tall figure strode in. A warm breeze swept into the chamber, heating up Matilda’s chill. The ice on the glass beaded and dissolved, like a sprinkle of rain. Scents of sunshine, of moonlight, of mystery and knowing, swelled around them.

Oh, goblin guts, Esmerelda thought faintly when recognition finally struck.

The tall male walked with a grace and power that were both intimidating and enthralling at the same time. He wore black leather trousers, knee-high leather boots, a white cotton lace shirt, and a flowing blue robe that glittered and shimmered with each step, as though all the stars were captured within its weave. An air of strength and authority surrounded him. His hair was so pale as to be snow white and fell past his shoulders, yet his patrician features were smooth, unlined and arresting. And his eyes—they weren’t a simple shade of a single colour. His irises shimmered and swirled, shades of blue, lavender and silver melding in a constant stream of hues, as though the ribbons of Time itself lived within those eyes. Handsome with a whole lot of sensual danger. Wicked magnetism.

“Father Time,” the G.F.C. greeted the newcomer with reserve.

“Oh, come, come,” he said, a teasing grin splitting his virile features. “You know me better than that, Tilly.”

Esmerelda gaped. He’d called the G.F.C. Tilly. Nobody called her Tilly.

Matilda nodded. “Fate, then. What brings you here? To my domain? Uninvited?”

“Bah, I got tired waiting for your invitation,” he said, waving his hand carelessly.

”But you’re Father Time, you have all the time in the world,” Matilda said sweetly.

Esmerelda shifted warily. The G.F.C.’s colour was high on her cheeks, and her eyes weren’t twinkling so much as flashing. And Fate? Well, Fate was folding his arms and smiling back with just as much saccharine, and his hair moved as though stirred by a breeze. She’d never understood why Fate wasn’t permitted to participate in the Fairy Tales, it had been a rule for eons that she and the rest of the Fairy Isle simply accepted. Now, though, seeing these two powerful entities in the same room, she could only wonder at the history they shared. And they shared something, that was apparent. The air was charged with an electricity that all but sparked between the two.

“I don’t like to waste Time,” Fate responded.

Matilda placed her hands on her hips. “You interfered, Fate. How could you do that? You broke the rules.”

Esmerelda shot Rump a dark look. Fate wasn’t the only one who had broken trust. Rump winked back at her, totally shameless. Warmth bloomed in her cheeks, and she told herself it was frustration with the imp, that’s all. Even so, her hand drifted down to the tiny bottle at her waist, just to make sure it was still there, just in case. Rump tracked her movement, and his grin broadened.

Blasted imp.

“I broke no rules,” Fate corrected her. “I exerted no power in this Tale.”

“Look what you’ve done, Fate. We have a Frog Prince without a Princess, and a Princess who didn’t learn her lessons.”

Fate leaned a hip against the G.F.C.’s desk. “Well, let’s look at that, shall we?” he said, and Matilda arched an expectant eyebrow.

He held up one long, tanned finger. “Let’s start with the Frog Prince. Our guy underwent a transformation. A dirty construction worker with a questionable moral compass is now an honourable law enforcer.”

Matilda’s eyes narrowed, and Esmerelda pursed her lips. Fate had a point. Fungus.

He held up another finger, and the G.F.C. stared at it for a moment before blinking and forcing her attention back to his face. “Our Princess needed to learn not to judge by appearances, and to keep her promises. She’s now learned that not all dirty construction workers are as they seem, and she delivered on her promises. Dinner, dance and a kiss.”

The G.F.C. frowned. “Actually, by his definition, that hasn’t happened yet.”

Fate winked. “Give it time.”

Matilda subsided into her chair. “There is still the issue of our original Frog Prince.”

Fate looked at the G.F.C. for a moment, long enough for not only Matilda to frown at him, but for Esmerelda to shift her wings, just a little.

“He wasn’t ready. Wrong time, wrong place.” Fate’s words were quiet, but full of impact, full of emotion, and Matilda dropped her gaze. Esmerelda ducked a glance at Rump, who suddenly seemed to find the pattern in the parquetry fascinating. Something else was going on here, something far deeper, far darker, than she could guess.

“He’ll get his Fairy Tale,” Fate continued, “but this isn’t it. You have to agree, Tilly, all the conditions have been met.”

“It wasn’t meant to be like this,” she muttered, but she seemed calmer, more serene. Not so…charged.

“It is what it is,” Fate stated, direct and forthright.

The G.F.C. shifted her wings, the shimmer catching the light from the window. She opened the folder again and picked up her willow wand. There was a sparkle of light, the scent of cinnamon, and she signed off on the Tale.

She looked up at her fairy, and Esmerelda straightened, raising her chin. Waiting for…

“Mission complete,” the G.F.C. stated.

Not that. Esmerelda hesitated. That’s it? No right republican bollocking? No punishment? Thank the sun sparkles. She gave a quick smile and nod, and flicked a nervous glance at Fate.

“Well, I’d best be getting back to the testing chamber,” Esmerelda said. “Mistyweather is out of detox, and wants to practice some spell casting.” For once, the prospect of being in an enclosed space with a fairy who couldn’t flutter her wings without stirring up a dust storm was appealing.

Matilda nodded. “Certainly. You and your partner are free to go—until the next Fairy Tale requiring enforcement.”

Esmerelda’s cheek muscles spasmed. “Partner?” She darted a glance at Rump, who tilted his head to the side, his expression mildly curious. “Er, I thought this was just a one-time arrangement?” Please let it be just a one-time arrangement.

Fate’s eyebrows rose, and the G.F.C. pointedly ignored him. “Oh, I don’t think Rumpelstiltskin is quite in a position to operate as an independent enforcer yet, do you? No. After seeing just what a…unique working relationship you have, I’ve decided that you two will remain partners. Indefinitely.”

Esmerelda gaped in dismay at the head fairy. But…but—please, no! Matilda eyed her, waiting for a response.

“Certainly, G.F.C.,” she rasped. She shot Rump a glare, pivoted on her slippered feet, and walked out of the chamber. She so wanted to stomp. Slam the door. Something. She left the room with calm, quiet steps.

Fungus.

A cool breeze stirred her wings, followed by the faint scent of orange bergamot. Her feet landed just a little harder, just a little louder, as she walked down the main cavernous hallway of Fairy Central.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Rump said when he finally caught up with her.

She kept walking.

“You know your glimmer is showing, don’t you?”

Esmerelda took a deep breath, trying to get her anger under control.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account. I like it.”

She whirled around and faced him. “How could you? You—you set me up.” She was furious, damn it. “You risked my reputation, my track record—my pension! But more than that, you risked the humans when you let Fate play with their Tale.” No wonder the Tale had gone off track. “Our Frog Prince got shot,” she whispered harshly. She didn’t know how the Fairy Council were going to react to that point. It had never happened before.

Rump frowned. “Interesting. I end up in Confinement for the ages, but you get upset over a trifle hiccup in a Tale. Why do you care about them so much?”

“Why do you not care at all?” she wailed, throwing her hands up. Shimmering dust rained down around them, and Rump sneezed. Fungus. It was always a tell when a fairy started throwing around dust. She fisted her hands, trying to get her emotions under control. But, for the love of everything natural, how could he do that to her? Of all fairies…

”Why?” She placed her fisted hands on her hips. Her gossamer was taut, her wings were arched, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to know she was madder than a brownie at Beltane. What he’d done—bring in Fate—was like poking an ogre with a willow wand—it was tantamount to treason. Almost like a….rebellion.

“Because maybe things need to change around here,” the imp replied. He stepped closer, and she noticed his golden skin was smooth, supple, stretching across his handsome features with a healthy glow. When had that happened? And how? He was supposed to be slowly healing from the lifedrain in Confinement, not…glowing.

His golden-brown eyes sparked as a mischievous smile tweaked his lips and drew her gaze. “I’m out of Confinement, Essie, and there is one thing you should know about an imp.”

She folded her arms across chest and narrowed her eyes. “I’m listening.”