The Frog Prince (5 page)

“Truly! I hear he is a paragon among his court.” He was confused. He had never sent her any little favor, but why would she tell a falsehood about him? Was this yet another unpleasant personality trait of hers that he must live through?

“Yes, he is. And a magnificent dancer as well.”

How did she know he could dance? “Is there only the
one
man who is hoping to claim your hand?” Perhaps she had him mixed up with another.

She unfolded her legs and looked down. “Yes.”

When she glanced his way, he attempted to catch her eye, to find what she was not revealing, but she would not allow it. Even more interested, he asked, “So tell me about him. He sounds brilliant—every woman’s dream.”

“He is.” She smiled. “Oh, he is just marvelous.”

“If he is so perfect, why did you throw his letter in the pond?”

“I beg your pardon. How did you know I did that?”

If she was willing to lie, so was he. “I read it while I was fetching the ball.” Of course, that statement was not actually false; he had read it while he was writing it.

“Oh.” She sighed and brought her knees to her chest again. “Never mind; I will not attempt to paint him in a better light. You obviously know the worst now.” She sighed again.

The worst? What was the girl on about? “I thought it was an exceptional letter! What was in it to create this sadness in you?”

She looked at him then. He was shocked to see her eyes shimmering with unshed tears that she quickly blinked away. “I forgot who I was speaking to. Of course you would think the letter excellent—you are a prince.” Blythe reached down and twirled a bit of fabric from the duvet with her fingers. “However, perhaps I can teach you something before you make the same mistake Prince Nolan does while addressing the girl you hope to marry.”

“You wish to give me advice on how to deal with a female?” He did not know whether to laugh or be appalled, but the look on her face checked him from commenting on either emotion.

“Yes.”

“What did he do wrong?”

“
Does,
not
did
. He is still doing it.”

As she fiddled with the fabric, he wondered what she could be speaking about. Had he not done everything in his power to confirm to her how eager he was for this courtship? Had he had not shown himself time and time again to be steadfast by proving his worth to her? What more could the girl want?

After a few moments, she whispered, “He does not see me.”

There! There it was again, the same nonsense she had said at the pond. Except now he was more confused than ever. Of course he saw her! He wrote her, did he not? Why were females so difficult? He looked up and realized she was waiting for him to say something. “Oh, uh, what do you mean?” he asked.

“I was lying just now when I told you Prince Nolan is perfect. I did not want you to know how miserable the situation actually is. I knew you would mock me even more when you knew the truth of it because honestly, if he were to come to me and ask for my hand this instant, I would reject him.”

CHAPTER NINE

“WHAT?” NOLAN FELT HIS heart drop. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Blythe said as she placed her chin on her knees. “He is literally the very last man I could ever want. He is the direct opposite of all those qualities I mentioned earlier. He is simply too engrossed in himself to need anyone else.”

Nolan slowly let that sink in. For some reason, his heart had begun to beat uncommonly fast and he was not sure what feeling this was that coursed through him. “What do you mean? Has he done something untoward?”

“No.” She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again. “It is not that at all. We have never even met. It is simply that he does not care about me.”

For the first time he noticed how deep and brown her eyes were—they were remarkably pretty. “Why would you say that?”

She grinned regretfully and sighed. “Because if he did, he would have asked about me, and he never does. Prince Nolan sends sheets and sheets of his own accomplishments, but has not once thought to ask about mine. Not any of my favorite things, my home, my thoughts—nothing. It is always only about him and his favorites. Just once, I would love to read a letter from my intended that asked me how I was doing or what I cared about most.”

Those beautiful eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears again. “Caspian, I am sorry I am not what you expected a host to be. I am sorry I forgot our promise and treated you so very ill. I am not myself lately—I am worried. I am confused and concerned about a most decidedly unhappy future. All my life, I have gone ignored and been cast aside. And I have always had hopes that my future husband would be the one to see me and truly love me.”

He felt his heart shatter when a small tear crept down her cheek and puddled onto her knee. Was he really that dimwitted to have treated her like this?

“I cannot have that hope now. It is simply gone.” She brushed at her cheek. “When I threw that note in the pond, it was truly the last straw. I know I will never be seen by him. He will in no way care for me or consider my opinion valuable.”

But it still did not explain her letters to him. Did he judge her too harshly? “And what have you written him in reply?”

“Ugh.” She inhaled and sat up more fully, crossing her legs beneath her dress, and then chuckled. “Oh, the most dreadful things, actually.”

Nolan watched that smile for a moment. “You were jesting in your letters to him?”

“Goodness, yes! I was mocking him.” Another surprising giggle burst out as she wiped at her tears. “Thank you! I needed the laugh.”

He was confused. “What do you mean? How were you mocking him?”

“With all of his boring accomplishments he would tell me about, I decided to treat him as he treated me.” She grinned. “It was quite fun to write him then, so much better than the chore it was a year ago.”

“Just a moment.” He shook his head. “You have been teasing Prince Nolan for a year now?” Could he be hearing her correctly?

“Yes.”

The minx! “What would you say?”

She chuckled and waved her hand. “Oh, anything, really. Mostly I take the letter he sends me and then write him a female imitation of the exact thing, assuming that if he truly likes to converse only of himself, that is what he would wish me to do as well.” She grinned and bit her lip. “I did have fun lamenting about the boorishness of the castle and horridly dull days at court. I became a simpering, pampered princess and hid away all of my true ideals and feelings, just allowing a very surface view of what I imagine any selfish girl would be like.”

“Do you find me selfish, then?” he asked before it dawned on him what he had said.

“You?” Blythe blinked. “No. Well, not overly so. Why would you say something like that?”

Perhaps he was better off near the pond where the foxes could find him. “I, uh, was just concerned that because you see Prince Nolan as self-centered, you might believe that was the case with all princes.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I would not know. I have only met a few at the different galas and events my mother has hosted, and then of course there are my brothers—who, while good men, are still my brothers and treat me as a sister. They are not a fair evaluation of how a prince would be, I should think.”

“So I am, in essence, the first prince you have the opportunity of knowing?”

“You are definitely the first prince I have ever been this close to, with the exception of my brothers.”

“Well, then.” He hopped toward her. “You are in for a treat. Prince Nolan has been extremely lax in his duties toward you, but I find myself quite willing to make up for it. Since we have a month together, I will most likely drive you mad with all my questions and curiosities. I find you much more fascinating than I originally expected and am even more eager to see what will become of all this.”

Her eyes searched his for a moment before she asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“I would simply like to know who you are, Princess Blythe McKenna.”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know you are the very first person to have stated such a thing to me?”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps it is a good thing I became enchanted and rescued your ball for you. Every beautiful princess deserves someone to truly see her.”

CHAPTER TEN

IT HAD BEEN A couple of weeks since that infuriating frog had come into her life, and already Blythe began to wonder what she would ever do without him. She thought back to that first day when she had opened her eyes to find him sitting upon her bed watching her sleep. He was such a sweetheart then, but then later that evening when he insisted on using one of her pillows, she could have cheerfully strangled him.

“What do you mean, you wish to use one of my pillows?” she had asked him, astounded the forward frog would make such a request of her. It was always cold at this hour, and she in just her robe and nightclothes did not wish to be standing at her door whispering in the dead of the night with an impolite visitor.

“What? Have you perchance attempted to sleep on one of those horrid cushions you have supplied for guests? No? Well, maybe you should before someone even more important than I comes to stay the night.”

“Are you saying our beds are uncomfortable?” No one had ever complained before.

“I am saying the pillows are a disgrace. I have been attempting to sleep for the past three-quarters of an hour and I cannot find a place to rest that does not have some lump or another wedging into my backside.”

“And so you have made your way from the guest bedroom into my room to tell me you wish to sleep on one of my pillows?”

“No. You misunderstand me.” He sighed. “I have hopped all the way to tell you I
will
be sleeping on one of your pillows.”

“Good heavens!” she hissed. “You cannot just demand whatever it is you wish.”

“I can and I will. Even a frog needs sleep. So go on and get me that nice satin one your brother set me down upon while I waited for you earlier today.”

“Do you have any idea how much I wish I could throttle you right now?” she asked as she made her way over to the bed and collected the pillow.

He laughed. “Probably as much as I am ready to burn the pillow I was attempting to sleep upon.”

Suddenly the image of Caspian dragging the thing with his mouth and tossing it into the fire caused her to smile, and she gave in as she let out a long whoosh of air. “I am sorry you cannot get to sleep. I did not have any idea the cushions were that bad.” She tucked the pillow under her arm and bent over to scoop Caspian up. She placed him on her shoulder. “You are welcome to use my pillow.”

“And forgive me,” he said in a softer tone. “I am incredibly grouchy at night when I cannot sleep.”

She chuckled as she walked out the door. “And I am incredibly cross when I have been awakened from a deep sleep.” Her bare feet quickly headed down the dark corridor toward the guest wing. Why did she always forget about putting on her slippers at night?

“Good. Then we can be bad-tempered together.”

Caspian settled right down on the new pillow and sighed when she placed them on the bed in the guest room. “You are an angel,” he whispered as he yawned. “Thank you a thousand times over.”

Blythe closed the door, but not before taking the offending cushion with her to show the queen in the morning. And then as rapidly as possible, she raced back up the corridor, tossed the old cushion onto a chair, and jumped into her thankfully still-warm bed. Snuggling into her own soft pillows, she had thought of the frog until she fell back asleep.

Blythe grinned at the memory as the maid helped her put on a pretty green gown.

Since that night two weeks ago, theirs had been a relationship full of definitely frustrated sparks, but there were also endearing moments as well. He was indeed nothing like she expected a prince to be. So thoughtful at times, so exasperating, but mostly what made her enjoy his company more than anyone she had been around was the fact he was so surprisingly humorous.

What girl did not care for someone who could make her laugh?

It was such a refreshing respite from her hours of boredom around the castle grounds and pond before he came. Her mother had never allowed much freedom for her daughters, and now that Blythe was no longer young enough to need a governess, she really had very little else to occupy herself with, except needlepoint and the like, until now.

The maid held out Blythe’s short boots and she stepped into them, and then waited while they were laced up. Blythe’s light-brown hair was done in a series of crisscrossed braids that formed an elegant bun. The style had taken a good quarter of an hour longer than usual that morning, but had been worth it. She felt so pretty in the green dress and with her fine hair.

“Thank you,” she said as she left the maid and then walked down the corridor. She could hear giggling and a pianoforte playing in the music room and so assumed Caspian was with her sisters again. She promptly made her way there.

Smiling, she peeked into the doorway of the large room and watched Andalyn and Karielle picking out a duet on the instrument, with Caspian nodding his head in rhythm as he sat on top.

Their music teacher had not been overly fond of the disruptive frog at first, but had come to accept his interference as a part of the daily routine when it was obvious how much the girls loved him.

Actually, Caspian seemed to fit in remarkably well with all of the family. Her mother even enjoyed his political discussions after suppers in the drawing room. He knew so many facts about the surrounding kingdoms and enjoyed sharing his views and educating them on others they had been misinformed about.

All of that good coming from one small frog—how did he do it? How was he able to so easily capture the hearts of those around him? With his presence, he had managed to make her feel as though she belonged. As if she were truly a part of this family.

He was magic.

The girls started to sing and Caspian joined in. It was a happy little ditty, but not entirely made for his voice.