Once Upon a Christmas Eve(14)
“A-awful?” Sarah stuttered, a bit insulted.
His gray eyes snapped open, glaring now. “I think of you day and night—every hour, every minute. When you walk into a room I look at nothing but you. When you leave, I want to follow. If a man looks at you I want to blind him. If you smile at another man, I want to end him. I dream of you. Of your breasts, of your sweet quim—but worse, much worse, I dream of your eyes and of your laugh. You haunt me and I’m afraid all of the time that I’ll turn and you won’t be there. It’s terrible. I’ve never been so pathetic in all my life,” he muttered as if to himself in disgust. He inhaled and said slowly, his eyes locked with hers, “Please. For God’s sake put me out of my misery and marry me.”
She couldn’t help her lips’ curving. “Yes.”
He surged to his feet and caught her face between his palms, kissing her passionately.
At that moment she didn’t care about the cold. Her heart was swelling near to bursting with happiness.
He pulled back a little, his hot breath washing over her lips as he muttered. “Thank you, my beautiful, wonderful Sarah. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, and he bent to her again.
The doors opened behind them and the sound of clapping came to them along with a rush of warm air.
Sarah turned in Adam’s arms and saw that her family and all their friends were there at the windows, applauding.
She turned her face into his shirtfront, feeling her cheeks heat.
Standing there in her lover’s arms, fairy lights all around them, on the night before Christmas, she’d never been so embarrassed—or happy—in her life.
Adam bent to smile against her temple. “Shall we go in and tell them? Though I think on the whole that they already know.”
“Yes,” she replied, taking his hand.
And they walked together into the future.
Chapter Thirteen
Prince Brad frowned. “I thought enchanted princesses were always beautiful.”
The former frog—now a young woman—rolled her cornflower-blue eyes above cheerfully freckled cheeks. “I think we’ve already established that not all princesses are beautiful. Besides, whatever makes you think I’m a princess?”
Prince Brad stared in horror. “You’re not a princess?”
“No.” She curtsied. “Miss Sylvia Smith. How d’you do?”
“I can’t marry a commoner,” Brad muttered to himself.
“Again. Whatever makes you think I’m going to marry you?” asked Sylvia.
“Because,” Prince Brad said, getting a devilish gleam in his eye as he stalked toward her, “you chased after me when I left you by the pond, you managed to frighten away all my other marriage prospects, and you let me kiss you.”
Sylvia made an indignant squawking sound. “That was to break the enchantment!”
“Details,” Brad said, and kissed her again.
He was still kissing her when the queen opened the door. “Bradley!”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Who is this?”
“Why, Princess Sylvia, who I just now saved from the frog curse,” Prince Brad replied, smoothly elbowing Sylvia in the side and making her oof when she was about to protest this outrageous lie.
“Oh, lovely!” the queen said with deep approval. “I suppose you’ll be marrying her?”
“Naturally.”
“Then I’d best be off to plan the celebrations,” the queen said, and left.
Sylvia turned to Brad. “I never said I’d marry you. Won’t you be embarrassed when everyone arrives and there’s no bride?”
“I certainly would be,” replied Brad. He got down on one knee. “So I hope with all my vain heart that you’ll take pity on me and marry me to save me the humiliation.”
Sylvia stared at the kneeling prince. “That’s it? No protestations of love?”
He cocked his handsome head. “Well I do feel as if my heart might break apart into tiny little pieces if you leave me and I never see you again, but it seems terribly soon to mention it, don’t you think?”
Sylvia smiled at him tearfully. “No, it’s not too soon to mention it, you great lump of ridiculousness.”
So Prince Brad and the newly de-frogged Miss Smith were married and lived happily ever after, though Princess Sylvia did spend a great deal of her marriage rolling her eyes and kicking her spouse under the table when he said rude things to guests. But then no marriage—or person—is entirely perfect.
And besides.
Perfection is rather overrated anyway.
—From The Frog Princess