A Happily Ever After of Her Own (3 page)

She rubbed her eyes and looked again. He didn't disappear. She was glad she wasn't standing up, because her knees would probably have given way. "It wasn't a dream?"

"Oh no." He bared his straight white teeth in something that might've passed for a smile if he'd actually tried to look friendly. "This is very real, and I'm not going anywhere until you help me find Beauty and my dear aunt."

"Your aunt?"

"Didn't you know? The Evil Witch is my aunt."

"No wonder you're so charming."

Edward made a face. "Good Lord no. Don't confuse me with Charming."

"Huh?"

"He's my annoying twin."

A mild headache began knocking inside Melinda's temples. "Identical?"

"Technically. But of course I'm the more handsome."

It was just her luck. All the good-looking men she met were either married, gay or in touch with their inner Narcissus. She wanted to bang her head into her pillows -- never against the wall because it would hurt too much. "What a huge mistake."

"Indeed. You should've stayed in your world, so my aunt couldn't have escaped. Your inconsiderate and foolhardy actions have caused all of us many problems."

"Not
that."
She glared at him. "I should never have complained about your looks. Then you would've stayed a Beast."

Melinda buried her head into her pillows at the loud banging on her door. There was a noise pollution ordinance in her neighborhood, and if whoever was causing the ruckus didn't stop soon, she was going to call the police.

The door burst open. Heart pounding, she sat up, pulling the covers closer to her chest like a shield. Was it a burglar? Some kind of killer? Oh gosh, maybe her mother had been right about getting a Micro-Uzi for home defense...

The Beast -- er, Edward -- strode inside. "I tried to summon your maid to wake you up, but I couldn't find her anywhere. Regardless, it is time."

The tension dissipated, although a bit of adrenaline remained. She glanced at the bedside clock radio. 5:43 a.m.

"Time to continue sleeping."

She flopped back on the bed with her back turned to him and wrapped the sheets around herself tightly. Fairy Godmother had said the watch needed some sun to locate the Wicked Witch. Melinda had planned to take full advantage of the night and freshen up before she faced the daunting task of getting everyone in one room within three days.

"Sleep? What utter nonsense. It is a glorious morning." He pushed the curtains from the windows, revealing what might possibly have been a slight lightening of the blackness outside. "Look!"

"What it is, is the crack of dawn," she mumbled. Her brain never worked well this early in the morning, especially without a jolt of caffeine. It was a miracle she could string words together to make sense. "You understand? Dawn's crack. I'm going back to sleep, and I advise you do the same."

"I am not sleepy."

Melinda counted backward from five. Her students tested her patience at times, but never this early. "Maybe you have some kind of Fairy Tale jetlag, but I don't."

He sat on her bed, and the mattress sank so much she threatened to roll into him. "Come!" He took her wrist, then the other, his touch surprisingly gentle as his callused skin caressed her forearms. All irritation fled at the contact, leaving her in a suspended mode, waiting and wondering where he would put his hands next. Suddenly he went still and whispered, "It's gone."

She opened her eyes. "Huh?"

He was staring at her wrist. "Your magic time-telling device." He jumped off the bed and looked around her room. "Someone...the Evil Witch must've stolen it! We need to track her lackeys." He sniffed the air, nostrils flaring. "Yet...there is no sign..."

Melinda sat up and took her watch from the bedside table. "Here."

"You took it off...and left it there?" He gaped at her. "What if it had been stolen? Or lost?"

She rolled her eyes. "Who would steal a ten-dollar watch?"

He straightened to his most formidable height, his spine so stiff she thought it might just snap under the tension.

"Excuse me, Miss
Light
foot," he began, "But not everyone is as inept a trespasser as you are--"

Here we go again.
"My name is Melinda, and I'm not a trespasser--"

"--and its value is far beyond mere money. My aunt would do anything to acquire it should she become aware of its existence. I checked your house defenses last night. You have no enchanted vines. No illusions, no tricksters...nothing to keep intruders out. As a matter of fact, your home is wide open to anyone regardless of their intentions. When you are given a precious item of magical ability, you must safeguard it with your life. Leaving it there like that while your house lies unguarded--"

Melinda blocked out Edward's lecture, wishing she had that Micro-Uzi so she could show him she had excellent home defense. When he paused to take a breath, she raised her hand before he could start again. "I don't think there's enough sun for it to work."

That distracted him. He frowned and examined the watch. "N. E., it reads. North. East. So it is indeed morning." He smiled -- a logic-killing, heart-accelerating, face-heating kind of smile, something that could potentially be quite lethal -- and her brain seemed to freeze.

You don't poach men. He already has his true love.

"We must leave immediately," he said.

Melinda shook herself and sighed. She knew when she had lost. "Fine. Give me half an hour."

"Half an hour?!" he roared, but his vocal cords weren't as impressive as when he'd been the Beast. A good thing, too. She didn't want to get a hearing aid at the ripe old age of twenty-five.

"It's the Speedy Melinda Special. The regular's an hour. Take it or leave it."

*** *** ***

A quick hot shower made her feel better, but not by much. Back in Fairy Tale Land she hadn't slept well on her cell's cold hard floor, and she'd been counting on eight good hours before they started their search. Still, the primary requirement for a pre-school teacher was empathy, and now she empathized with Edward. She would want to get going too if the situation were reversed.

Edward was pacing in the living room, his movements courtly, precise, elegant, and completely at odds with the shirt and jeans he was wearing. His big hands were clasped behind him; she remembered their delicious warmth when he'd held her arms, and shuddered with an irrational desire to have them on her again.

Get it together before you make a fool out of yourself.

That was the smartest thought she'd had since Edward had woken her up. Now if her body would just listen.

She made a big pot of coffee in her cheery yellow kitchen. The walls glowed in the strengthening sunlight; a basket with grapefruit, apples and a couple of tangerines sat on the smooth ivory counter-top, and several bananas were missing since last night. She usually loved the little pick-me-up of color and light in the morning, the citrus scent and openness of the area, but this morning there was a sense of grim purpose and suppressed longing -- probably only on her part -- inside.

"Want some?" she said, the coffee-pot in her hand.

He shook his head, eyeing the dark liquid suspiciously. "What is that vile looking brew? Poison?"

"No." Poison, indeed. "It's coffee."

"What is 'coffee'?"

"An elixir that jumpstarts millions of Americans in the morning."

"An elixir." That he understood. "And you must drink it?"

"It's either this or sleep."

He sighed. "Very well, then. Gulp it down."

"Thank you, Your Most
Kind
and
Gracious
Highness."

"Not at all."

She closed her eyes briefly, then poured the coffee into a huge mug and sipped.
Ahhh...
She felt almost human. "Northeast, right?"

"Yes."

"Could be anywhere..." Then an idea hit her. Edward had come to this world in a T-shirt and jeans thanks to Fairy Godmother's sense of style, but... "Do you think your aunt is dressed to fit in?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know. Is she wearing a peaked hat with a wide brim and some long flowing dress, or is she in sneakers and a pantsuit?"

He frowned. "She eschews hats unless her hair is in disarray, and she favors closely fitted garments that display her...figure. Beyond that I cannot say with surety. We were never very close."

"I think I know where she might've gone. Especially if she came with Beauty, who looks like a Renaissance Faire character."

"Looks like a what?"

It was going to be impossible to explain everything. "There's a theme park called Tudor Land, northeast of here. The summer Renaissance Faire is going on there as well. Don't worry about what it is, it means that there will be lots of people, many of them dressed like Fairy Tale characters. It would be very easy for her to hide, and I bet that's where she is. It even has a huge haunted mansion. The Tudor House."

"The mansion is...haunted?"

Did he look a bit pale?
Melinda almost giggled. Maybe he didn't know that malicious spirits didn't exist in her world. "Don't worry. If any big mean ghosts attack us, I'll protect you."

A royally condescending glower snapped back into place. "I am a prince of the realm. I do not require a woman's protection."

She shrugged and hid her smile behind her coffee cup. It was going to be fun at the Tudor House.

*** *** ***

Protect him indeed.

The idea was so preposterous Edward couldn't decide if he should be truly insulted or not. The silly woman was a head shorter than he and weighed nothing. He'd felt the fragile bones of her arms, seen how vulnerable and soft she was. She couldn't protect him against a butterfly, much less a ghost.

Still, he admired her courage. Not many had withstood his anger or stood up to the judge and the prosecutor. And nobody tried to bargain with Fairy Godmother, unless...well, unless it was one of her offspring. Even then it was not advisable, as she always imposed conditions on her help.

It wouldn't make for an interesting fairy tale if you didn't face an obstacle. After all, dear, obstacles build character.

Ugh. Expediency was of value, not some ridiculous life lesson one had to learn from struggling for the amusement of the masses. Fairy tales should have the following three lines only: "Once upon a time there were a girl and a prince. They met, fell in love and lived happily ever after. The end."

*** *** ***

Edward called for her to "prepare Arabian horses" for the ride to Tudor Land. Feeling much perkier after her coffee, Melinda patted his forearm and said sweetly, "I'm afraid I don't have any Arabians just now, Edward. But I do have a Charger."

"A
warhorse?"
Edward said, blinking. "Excellent!"

*** *** ***

The traffic was light so early. Nobody was likely to be at Tudor Land at this hour, but Edward had insisted on going immediately and scouting the area for good escape routes and possible traps.

"Why do we need escape routes?" Melinda asked him. "All we have to do is get in the same room with Beauty and the Evil Witch. Then I tap my watch, and yay, we're back in the Fairy Tale World."

"I am the prince here. Leave the battle planning to me."

And leave the driving to me,
she thought, smiling a bit as she recalled the enormous conniption fit Edward had thrown when he had discovered what her "Charger" really was -- and that he couldn't drive it. But it had been her only victory so far. Logic didn't work with him, and he'd never encountered the concept of gender equality. She found herself wishing that Cinderella had come to Bolinsville instead. Prince Charming simply had to be more enlightened.

*** *** ***

The original owner of Tudor Land had been an eccentric historian, and he'd converted his one hundred acres of family farm into a theme park. Edward jumped out of the car the moment it stopped and jogged around to open her door for her. He held out a hand.

"I'm perfectly capable of getting out on my own," she said.

Sighing, he reached down and lightly took her hand, fingers to fingers. The contact was sweeter than she remembered, and for a moment she inhabited those fingers entirely. He pulled her out, shut the door, and rested his hand on the small of her back while he looked around vigilantly. She shivered.

"A gentleman never allows a lady to step out of a carriage unaided," he informed her.

"A lady." She raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was a Trespasser."

"That was admittedly rude of me. You haven't been convicted."

Yet
lingered in his tone, but she didn't want to argue and ruin the moment, even as she was telling herself she was shivering because of the cool early morning air against her skin, not because Edward's hand felt impossibly good or she was doing her best to not lean against him.

"Where is the entrance?"

"There." With almost an inhuman strength of will, she stepped away from him and gestured at the closed gates. "See? What did I tell you?"

Edward stepped up to the gates and ran a finger over the bolt and padlock. "It seems not to be enchanted."

"Of course not. But it's locked."

"What is locked can be scaled." He gripped one of the fence's iron bars experimentally. "It even has handholds."

"Absolutely not--"

Too late. He was already over the other side. For a prince, he moved with a lightness and quickness thieves would envy. "Come," he said through the fence.

She crossed her arms and shook her head.

"Come!" he said more impatiently.

"Do you know what's going to happen if we get caught?"

Edward glanced around. "'Caught'? There are no guards about. And if we must escape we can take their horses."

"No," she said. "There will be no taking of horses. The ones they have here are for jousting."

"Jousting!" His eyes gleamed briefly, but then the eyebrows above them came together. "They are truly horses, not flatulent moving metal boxes?"