CHAPTER SIX
CECELIA LEANED AGAINST THE wolf's soft, fuzzy shoulder. He felt so warm and wonderful. "Do you mind if I lay my head upon you?" she asked.
He cleared his throat "If it makes you feel more at ease, then by all means, indulge yourself."
She turned fully on her back against his thick coat and took in the great forest canopy above her, the stars and moonlight filtering in on little enchanting streams all around them. It was breathtaking and tranquil. She needed this—she needed serenity more than anything right now.
After a little while of silent contemplation, she asked, "What is your name?"
"You're trying to distract me again," came the mumbled reply.
"Do you have a name?"
He looked up from his reading. "Miss Hammerstein-Smythe—"
"Cecelia. My name is Cecelia."
His deep voice vibrated through her as he repeated the name. "Cecelia."
"What is yours?"
"I, uh—I do not have one. That translates into a language you would understand, of course."
"Oh." She turned her head toward his. "Can I think of one for you?"
"After you tell me what's wrong."
She snorted a very unladylike snort and laughed. "Fine. You win. Where should I start?"
"At the beginning is usually best."
Cecelia took a deep breath. "The beginning." Her hands clenched the sides of her cloak. "Well, it is not the finest story, I am sure."
"It doesn't have to be. All it has to be is your story. Now, tell me what happened, please."
She took another deep breath and willed herself not to cry as she started. "It is silly, really. I must be the most silly girl in all the kingdom."
"And why is that?" the wolf prodded.
"Because I believed Lord Willington loved me and wanted to marry me."
The imbecile broke her heart? Alexander froze. His ear twitched in agitation.
"But he did not. He never planned to marry me. All those days, all those dances, all those letters we sent one another were for naught. While I was living in oblivious harmony, he was courting, truly courting, his intended—a lady five or ten times my consequence. They are to wed before the summer is over." She paused and her voice cracked. "I feel so foolish. I do not know how I could have been so deceived. How could I ever believe he would look twice at me? Of course he would search higher for a bride! Of course he would find one to love who was so much more worthy of him than I."
The beast dared not move—he dared not say a word. After a few moments of silence, he was rewarded again with her frustrations.
"Do you know the most humiliating part? I thought—" her voice wobbled, "—I thought he was taking me out to propose. We all did. The whole village believed I would become the intended of Lord Willington when he took me driving in his open carriage, except it was to announce his intentions to wed another. I had no idea until he crushed all my hopes and dreams in a matter of seconds. I did not let him see me crying. I held in my tears until much later that night—the night you found me all alone here. My world had ended that day. Everything and everyone I had ever trusted dissolved in front of my eyes.
"I loved him enough to want him happy. I needed him happy, but at what cost? I would give anything to rewind the past and not allow my heart the freedom it so willingly took in attaching itself to Charles."
Alexander's chest was cold. He felt for the girl, but did wonder at her stupidity in choosing such a fop as Lord Willington. The man is more ego than brains—
The wolf's thoughts ended abruptly when he realized he used to be just like the man who shattered Miss Hammerstein-Smythe. Five months ago, had he been so inclined, Alexander would have had no qualms in doing something in a similar fashion to her as well. In fact, had not he been more cruel than most? He winced at the memory of their last meeting. She in the town hall aiding the pianist—who was to perform later that evening—with some salve for her arthritic hands, and he on an errand to speak with the mayor.
Alexander had stumbled upon her quite easily enough; he was told the man had last been seen in the concert room. So when he interrupted Miss Hammerstein-Smythe rubbing the old woman's hands, he began to snigger—loudly. That inane girl believed everyone wanted her odd remedies.
Cecelia's head had snapped up and she glared at him over the pianoforte. She was the only person who was not afraid to put him in his place. "Will you kindly reserve your usual lack of decorum for those who appreciate it?"
He had laughed and shook his head. "Do you honestly believe you will ever find a life worth living if all you do is go about meddling with everyone else's?" He walked forward and rested his elbow upon the pianoforte while sneering down at her. "You disgust me, and I rue the day any man would be foolish enough to align himself with you."
Her jaw tightened, which proved his words had fully hit their mark. He went in for the clincher before she could react properly and lambast him. "Pardon me! What am I thinking? Why would anyone care for such a female as you? They would have to be imbeciles themselves to consider the notion. Think of the pain you would put them through! The agonies! The heartache! Oh, to look at such a face as yours across the breakfast table every morning would be horrendous indeed."
"To look at my face?" Her voice lowered. "You are the monster here. Mayhap you are handsome, but with your personality, no woman in her proper mind would consider herself stupid enough to be in the same room with you, let alone the same house!"
As she quickly gathered up her things, he knew he had finally infuriated her. When she gave the woman a hug, whispering a quick farewell and then turning toward the prince, bowing low, he enjoyed her hasty retreat out the door. He grinned, knowing then he had just secured another good month at least before she would fall for him. It was one way to guarantee the most annoying of all females would never dream of attaching herself with him. The idea of such a nosy woman in his castle was revolting! He would rue the day he ever heard of such a scheme.
Except, she was smarter—much smarter. She never did fall for Prince Alexander's prideful notions and preening. Instead, she allowed herself to be swallowed up by a different prey altogether.
"Miss—Cecelia?" Alexander whispered.
She sniffed and then answered against his side, "Yes?"
He opened his mouth to speak, his paw marking the page in the book, but no words would come out. There was so much he longed to say, yet none of it seemed suitable. Instead he asked, "What happened then? What did the village people do? Were they kind?"
She turned and curled into a tight ball, facing him, still resting upon his side. He knew she was about to tell a falsehood simply by her actions.
"They—they were supportive and good and everything gracious."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, I have never known such an outpouring of compassion."
"Cecelia?"
"Hmm?"
"Tell me the truth. What actually happened?"
She buried her face into his soft coat and mumbled, "Go away."
"No. Tell me. Release it, my dear."
She chuckled into his side. "Has anyone ever complained of how aggravating you can be?"
"Many times."
She grumbled and groaned and then finally said, "It was dreadful." Pulling her cloak around her, she continued, "They have only come to glean information and secretly mock me when my back is turned. I have become the village idiot, their laughingstock. All those I considered my friends are more eager to watch and croon over my failure than to sympathize with me." Her voice quieted. "They saw what I did not, and they were right. I am as worthless to them as I am to Lord Willington. Without his approval, I shall never have theirs."
Alexander could not pinpoint what changed his opinion of this brave girl so fully, other than her trust in him, but he found himself vowing to right every wrong in her life. He found his heart beating in response to her pain, a need to maintain and strengthen her. He felt much of this guilt resting upon his shoulders—his constant treatment of her publicly weighed heavily in this too. How else would a village react to a girl when their own prince did not care for her?
A month ago, she was as happy and confident and carefree as anyone he knew—nosy and prodding and continually on her quest to help everyone around her. Now when she needed them most, her friends—in their pride and jealousy—had turned their backs on her and left Miss Hammerstein-Smythe to see the cruel world for what it was.
He had so much to make up for; he deserved this face, this body, this curse when he thought back on what he had carelessly done to her. He had to reverse this wrong. This was not the way things were done.
And Prince Alexander Henry Richard the Fourth would see that every available comfort was given her. He would have her stand again within the walls of her village. No one should mock someone so kindhearted and naturally good-natured. He understood now that her easy smile and quick laughter proved her disposition to be one of great worth. Many people would grow stronger and happier had they half her optimism and gumption. What would his own outcome have been had he heeded her perfect example?
The world was not right if Cecelia Hammerstein-Smythe was hurt. Nothing seemed to make sense. Her generous, nosy habits needed to be applauded and adored, not hidden away.
But what could he do? What could a mere wolf do to improve the situation?
He cleared his throat, hoping she had not been concerned over his silence. She did not seem to be so, appearing deep in thought herself. "Well, to thank you for your admission, would you like to read what I have found?"
Cecelia brightened immediately and sat up. "Yes, please."
"Very well." He passed the book over, careful not to lose the spot. "You see the paragraph starting just there?" he asked as he pointed with his paw.
"Yes."
"Good. Read the next little bit. You will know when to stop."
"Do you mean for me to read aloud?"
"If you desire."
She snuggled her feet under her gown. Finding a glimmer of moonlight, she held the book up and began to read aloud—
Oh, hark! Thy little wingless bird,
For beauty takes its flight—
If thou were but ten feet tall,
Thy strength would own the night.
But alas, thy fragile wings are small.
And so must thy courage ground
My modest passing bonny brow
If thou could but see thy crown!
The land would forge ever onward
Pressing gloriously within sight
For thee, my precious moonbeam
Will yet prevail the fight.
After a moment of contemplation, she spoke. "You are telling me not to give up hope, aren't you?"
"I am telling you, you are worth more than you believe you are."
She shook her head. "Why is it when the wolf says it, I almost believe him?"
He grinned a wolfish grin. "Girls in forests should always believe what magical beasts say."
She rubbed her lips together, worry lines appearing between her eyes. "Why?"
"Because I care." Alexander sat up on his back haunches. "Because when you do not believe it exists, I see the crown upon your brow."
"I do not understand. How could I be worth more than what people believe me to be?" She drew her legs up and rested her head upon them. "Is not something only worth what someone is willing to spend for it?"
"I would spend the prince's fortune for you, if I had to."
Cecelia laughed. "And what would the lofty Prince Alexander say to such a ploy?" She smoothed her skirts and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Perhaps you did not know, but he does not think my worth is that great either. You see? I am a hopeless cause." A ragged sigh escaped. "In fact, there is not one person who feels as you do." Her voice broke. "Then again, they know me and you do not."
His heart lodged within his throat at the sight of her valiantly blinking away tears. "You are wrong, my dear, and I will prove it to you. I know you better than I know myself."
Her watery eyes met his deep, steady gaze.
"Mark my words, little wingless bird, you will fly."
She inhaled a shaky breath. "Thank you. I do not know what delicious sprite of fate brought you here, but thank you. I have never needed anything more."
Alexander nodded his head. He knew. He knew exactly what she was going through—did he not just go through his own painful trial? And yet, his was deserved—hers was not.
"Cecelia, I promise—starting tomorrow, everything will change for you."