Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,4

rests with Charlotte. You, I know, seek no husband. But protection for your daughter is not a small thing. Please, my lady, you understand why I can never be with another. Yet, everywhere I go, I am bombarded with daughters and widows.” He shook his head. “It is torment. I want to travel my land in peace.”

She turned away from him, but William did not sense refusal. He waited. The sounds of the ocean settled around them. Countess DeGanne took another bite of her pie. A bird shrieked as it flew across the beach.

After a few moments, she placed her fork against the plate, closed her eyes, and a slight sigh whispered from her. She nodded. “I will agree to your proposal. A mother for your son and protection for my daughter.”

The burden gripping his chest faded like melting snow. Relief drew a grin on his face. “That is all I ask. In a fortnight, I will send the royal carriage to transport your household to Monmoore Palace.”

“As you wish, Sire.”

He sighed. “William, please.”

They dined in friendly accord until bells called them to Mass.

3

Ogres chased damsels in distress. Marissa was certain their shadowed figures raced just beyond the brocade shades covering the windows of the carriage. The carriage rattled to the side then straightened once more as it journeyed across the ill road. She rose to her knees on the cushioned seat and grabbed hold of the bottom rail of the window. Shadow-play beyond the curtain riveted her attention. She knew, with every fiber of her being, knights and dragons awaited beyond her sight. She frowned at the thick window coverings. With a peek at her mother, accomplishing needlepoint in a rocking carriage, Marissa pulled one corner up and peeked.

A hard rap to her knuckles brought her bottom back to the seat. “A lady does not peek.”

Marissa scowled at her mother, the Countess DeGanne, as she rubbed her knuckles. Her mother’s thick, brown hair remained twisted in a complicated French knot, even after a day of travel. Her taupe-colored traveling gown remained set about her legs, the skirt swaying with the carriage movement. Marissa’s own matching gown boasted wrinkles and a green stain where she’d bumped against a hedge. If the jay hadn’t bounced beneath the branches, I wouldn’t have run into the bush.

Swinging her legs back and forth on the edge of her seat, Marissa turned her attention to the woman sitting beside her mother, her governess turned lady’s maid, Mrs. Boyde. The plain brown service gown couldn’t hide her creamy skin. Though she held a book, Mrs. Boyde’s blue eyes twinkled back at her. Marissa giggled. She felt her mother’s glower and lowered her face to stare at her hands in her lap. My nails are dirty. She turned her attention back to the window where mysterious shapes passed them. A dragon? Knights bounding after it?

Marissa huffed with impatience. “If we pulled the curtains open, I wouldn’t need to peek.”

Her mother wrinkled her nose with distaste. “These paths are dusty.”

“But the open window would allow air to come in. Please, Mother,” she whined, and then tried batting her eyelashes.

Though her mother shook her head, Marissa spied a small smile.

“Oh, very well.” Mother waved her hand toward the window dressings. “Mrs. Boyde, would you please.” Then she returned her attention to the delicate needlepoint in her lap.

Marissa smiled as her governess leaned past her and unlatched the fabric, rolling it into the straps across the ceiling of the carriage. Marissa contained her giggle as Mrs. Boyde winked. Air moved around them immediately, and they both sighed with relief. Marissa turned her attention to the passing scenery. No dragons, just lots of trees. Disappointing. But the scenery looked different than what she knew. Trees were taller. The air was moist but didn’t smell like ocean.

“How many days have we travelled? Are we far from home? What if I don’t like the palace? What if they don’t like us?” Questions flew from her brain through her mouth. She turned for a moment toward her mother. Her mother continued sewing her needle through the fabric, ignoring her. She started to lean out the open window.

“Marissa Rose Clemente DeGanne. If your head exits that window, I will have the curtains lowered again.” Her mother’s reprimand followed a hand pulling her back into her seat.

“I wanted to see if I can still see home.”

Countess DeGanne patted her daughter’s arm before releasing her. “You are young. The palace will seem like home in no time.”

“I’m