Let Me Tell You A Story

Chapter 1

A Tragic History of a Kingdom

Gwen reread the title of the book. The leather-bound book had been a wedding gift. Amongst dozens of gifts she received, she took little notice of the small book until Arthur brought it to her attention. Wrapped in beautiful handmade paper, someone had addressed the gift card to her.

"You have a secret admirer I don't know about?" Arthur said, with a quizzical smile.

A month into their marriage and her husband's playful nature had emerged with a gusto. It was as if someone had allowed him to play for the first time and he wanted to take full advantage. When they first met, she'd fainted at the sight of him. Swept away by a powerful sense of déjà vu and a bad bout of insomnia. Then, she thought him to be rigid and a playful as a rock. He thought even less of her. How they fell in love and married was a mystery to those around her. Sometimes, she had to pinch herself to ensure it was real.

"I have many admirers," she replied, willing to be playful.

When Arthur lost his smile, and a furrow formed on his brow, she lost hers. His familiar sky-blue eyes turned stormy. The gaze he fixed on her made her pause. Handsome, with a shock of wheat honey hair, strong jaw and a wide generous mouth, the sight of him sometimes made her breath catch. Yet there were sides to him, some he hid from. Over time, she'd learned to recognize them, the boy, the man, the prince.

"Yes, you do." His voice was low and barely above a whisper. When he took a step toward her, he took the book. With a brief glance at the gift, he tossed it on the bed with other unopened gifts.

"I've seen them," he said as he stepped even closer.

Gwen's searched his face to decipher this sudden change of mood. When he leaned in, his eyes fell upon the nape of her neck. His finger traced along the slope. She shivered at the touch and felt the edge his passion. So close, his breath caressed her cheek as he leaned ever closer.

"Their on a list," he continued. "The things I want to do to them you can't imagine."

This made Gwen turn toward him. When their eyes met, the storm remained. Yet the finger that traced the shape of her neck, became a caress. It went along the line of her breastbone and lingered. A shudder escaped her.

"Arthur," she said. The words sounded like a plea of reason. She knew it for was it really was. Arthur's love fueled his passion for her, the way a starving man savored his first bite of food. There were times it scared her, his need. Moments like these made her doubt her strength. Her inability to resist him, to tell him no. Because she never wanted to say no or deny him anything. He could devour her whole and she would hand him the spoon to do it.

"Guinevere," he said.

He had a way of saying her name like no other. Growing up, the name had caused her grief, and she opted for the shorten version. Not until she'd met Arthur Penn, had the sound of her full name sounded like music. He could make it feel like an enticement, a warning and a plea, all in the same breath.

"Who would send a wedding gift only to the bride?" Arthur whispered into her ear. When he pulled back and looked down into her eyes, she struggled to decipher his intent. Before she had a changed to respond, his lips were on her.

This was Arthur, caring little for her protest. To him, it didn't matter. She wanted to be angry but being kissed by him and staying angry was mentally impossible for her. What was she supposed to be angry about, anyway? Since their marriage, she'd gotten unsolicited advice, business offers and people who suddenly wanted to her friend. Gifts from people hoping they would get inside access to Penn Manufacturing through her, wasn't surprising.

At first, Arthur's wealth had been an obstacle in their relationship. Gwen still saw herself as the working girl who once lived in Brooklyn walkup. She counted her pennies, rode the subway and brought things on sale. Raised by her practical father, who taught her to judge a person by what they did, not by how much money they had in the bank. Though she took a while to get passed Arthur's wealth. Recently transplanted Britons, the Penn family could trace their family back to William the Conqueror. Their coat of arm had a dragon on it–a dragon!

Though she knew little of her mother's people, her father's people migrated up from Virginia and the Carolinas after the civil war. The only son of a sharecropper, Gwen paternal grandfather, wanted nothing to do with the Jim Crow South. First, living in New Jersey and later moving to New York to work in the Navy Yards, the family found a home in Brooklyn. By the time her father was a man, the Navy Yard was a distance memory. A jeweler by trade, he opened and close several businesses, before settling into an electronics small shop in downtown Brooklyn. The shop closed a few years ago with the death of her father.

When Arthur withdrew, it left her breathless. She took a moment to steady herself. When she did, she gave her husband of one month a long patient look. Looking pleased with himself, she crossed her arms and took a step away. If Arthur had his way, they'd never leave the bedroom.

When she worked for Arthur's sister Keira as her assistant, she learned about the stubbornness of the Penns. Determined, focused, single-minded and often arrogant seemed to be the innate family trait. Their father had instilled these traits in them since an early age. Most people could see passed the haughtiness for want it really was. A needed to please an overbearing father who believed in perfection as if it were religion. It cost him their love if not their loyalty.

"Arthur!" Gwen scolded. Now that she'd gotten her senses back, she kept a healthy distance from her husband. She held out her hand expectedly.

Arthur's eyes narrowed on her again. She mirrored the look. They stood that way for a moment before he reluctantly retrieved the book and handed it to her.

"If it's from the little wanker in accounting, he will count floor tiles in our warehouse, Yugoslavia." Arthur said with a wicked smile.

Gwen gave him a puzzle look. "You don't have a warehouse in Yugoslavia."

"I'll build one."

"Arthur!" She warned.

"Guinevere," he replied.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head and turned her attention to the book. It almost fit in the palm of her hand. The blood red handcrafted cover had the gold imprint of the title. At first, Gwen thought it an odd gift, until she found the dedication page. The familiar handwritten note and signature clarified everything. When she showed it to Arthur, he sighed in aggravation.

"Criminal." He cursed.

"Cassandra is not a criminal. I wish you stop calling her that." Gwen complained.

"She drugged me," he said.

Gwen laughed. "She did not."

"She calls those concoctions she makes teas, but I bet a chemist would say otherwise," Arthur retorted.

This made Gwen smile and walked over and gave her husband a kiss on his cheek in compensation. He wouldn't get any early morning loving making nor would he get Cassandra Drake out of their lives.

"I still think she's a criminal," he said, as he wrapped an arm around her waist. His eyes holding out hope for something more.

"You don't want me to tell her you said that," Gwen mused.

Arthur stiffened, released her and took a step away. She wondered if his look of disappointed had something to do with his thwarted plans or the mention of Cassandra.

"I'm going to make coffee," he said in a huff and left her.

Gwen smiled, knowing Arthur was still a little fearful of Cassandra. The book still in her hand, she reread the note.

If you think your story is over, it's not. If you think you've gotten your happy ending, you haven't. Seek the wizard and beware the witch.

Love Always

Cassandra