The Wronged Princess - Book I - Page 107/133

"Don't just stand there gaping like fish," she hissed, startling Cinderella.

Cinderella jerked forward and wrapped her arms about his broad shoulders. Even deep breaths from Prince sent a surge of relief through her. She struggled to lay his back against the pillow while Essie struggled in shifting his booted legs over the arm rest at the other end.

"You've done it this time, Cill," Essie accused, wheezing with exhaustion.

Cinderella barely registered Essie's words when she found her cheek brushing his. The intimacy of the position shook her to her core. Heated breath from his parted lips on her skin created a brilliant charge in the air. She felt dizzy from the unexpected contact. Her fingers drifted to the hair felled over his brow.

If she dropped dead in this moment she would surely die a happy woman.

"Do hurry, Cinderella. We have no idea how long these efforts can be contained. This stick is unpredictable, at best."

Cinderella snapped to, managing to arrange Prince as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. She resisted the urge to brush back a curling lock of hair from his forehead, and distanced herself at once.

"They are sure to hang us from the gallows," Essie said, gulping for air.

Cinderella couldn't have agreed more.

"There is the strangest current in the air," Pricilla said. "I vow I did not do a thing."

"Not much, you didn't," Essie muttered. "Quick, I believe he may be stirring."

A statement that effectively sent them scrambling for the door.

*****

"I believe I have now seen it all," Arnald jeered.

Prince groaned before opening one eye. Arnald stood over him, hands at his hips. The smirk on his lips had Prince clenching a fist. "Is your hovering absolutely necessary?"

"Ha!" Arnald held out his hand, warding off any explanation Prince may have had inclined to offer. Which he did not. "Do not tell me. An attack of the vapors? Another swoon?"

Neither had occurred to Prince, and he stifled a surge of panic. "I should banish you to the dungeons. Feed you rations of molded bread and tepid water for the rest of your natural life."

Arnald shot him a quick grin and stepped toward the table near his head. "Non. You know your blessed maman would never allow anything of the sort for her sister's only child."

That much was true. Arnald was difficult enough without encouragement from that quarter.

He sat up slowly. "I cannot seem to remember much of anything." Well, nothing he was prepared to mention. Startling three attractive young women in his private sitting chamber did not bear mentioning. And how had they managed to get him to the settee? He was much too heavy. Mayhap they used the wind from Ernalda's freakishly strong lashes.