Princess Freckles

24. Prelude To A

The music faded away as she stepped through the curtained glass double doors. The stars were out, and the birds she'd composed the evening portion of her song to were out and singing. It was a lovely night.

"You came."

His arms encircled her waist and she felt his breath at her neck. He held her from behind and she steeled herself, willing her emotions to subside and let her say what she needed without breaking.

"Will..."

"Don't. Please. Not now. For just this moment I want to pretend you want me, too."

She swallowed and closed her eyes.

"It doesn't matter what I want. You're marrying my sister. Garten will love her, but they cannot think the same way about me."

"And why not?"

He lay small kisses to her hair and she shivered.

"It's like the Duke of Wells...you might hold some regard for my appearance, but in the end everyone will talk."

"Then let them. Our visage from birth is only how others can see us, and yet you see yourself as some sort of monster. I don't. You're lovely in every way."

She felt like her heart would break. How could he express such things to her on the eve of his wedding? What sort of gentleman was he? And why did she care for him so?

"Please stop. You're making this harder."

"You don't know my choice. No one really does. I've told them they're in your family, so why is it so hard to believe it could be you?"

She pushed away from him and turned.

"Because I'm not beautiful! I am intelligent, strong, and worth so much more than a mere trifling fancy! What sort of marks do you see on my skin? What sort of whispers do you think reach these ears?"

She didn't want to cry and held her ground. He couldn't make her.

And then he did.

"Chammielle..."

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She shook with rage and fear and passion she didn't know she had, her fists balling and beating on his shoulders, but he held her tighter still. His lips came to the left side of her head and lay slow and soft pecks into her hair and neck about her ear.

"You're beautiful...you're beautiful...you're beautiful...you're beautiful... you're-"

"Stop!"

"You're beautiful...you're beautiful...you're beautiful...you're beautiful..."

"Please... stop..."

"You're beautiful...you're beautiful...you're beautiful..."

He went on and on. A whisper and a kiss. A whisper and a kiss. Her tears flowed freely and her fists went limp then clung to him. All the anger she felt towards cruel people, stupid gossips, and the loveless marriage she knew she'd wind up in some day, it all came out. And she wept.

"Chammielle...don't cry. I'm here."

"Will..."

"Tomorrow everything will be set right. You can hold your head high. No one will be able to say those things to you again. Please don't say you're not beautiful again. Not ever."

She buried her face in his waistcoat.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Aster. She was so close to the Prince and she would only know him after tomorrow. Chammielle had stolen his time. Stolen her sister's time with her husband before they could marry.