Rumpelstiltskin (Timeless Fairy Tales #4)

Rumpelstiltskin (Timeless Fairy Tales #4) Page 79

“No,” Stil said.

Gemma sighed. “I didn’t run from the rider because I couldn’t leave you like that. When I finally got my head on straight, I realized that we were so busy countering him that we weren’t bothering to take advantage of his greatest weakness,” Gemma said. “Although, I did not know the light would have such an effect on the hellhound,” she added, glancing at the white lupine sniffing her shoes.

“I can understand that. You thought to use something I see as only a trinket as an ultimate weapon. Well done,” Stil said. “So, about love.”

“As for the soldiers, it made the most sense. Obviously,” Gemma stiffly said.

“So, about love,” Stil repeated.

Gemma strode back to the settee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I find it amusing that a hellhound, a mad king, and the threat of death won’t make you bat an eye, but mentioning love makes you lose your eternal serenity.”

Gemma narrowed icy eyes at Stil. “I am perfectly fine—STOP IT,” she barked when Stil reached out to touch her cheek.

Stil’s lips quirked in the slightest smile. “Gemma,” he said, his voice gentle. “You can trust me. I’m not going to let you go. That is not to say that I will not disappoint you in the future or make you glare at me frequently, but I will never stop loving you.”

“You can’t know that,” Gemma said.

“Do you ever wonder if your Lady Linnea will stop your friendship?” Stil asked.

“No.”

“How am I any different from her?”

“Would you like me to list the differences alphabetically or numerically?”

“No, I mean—what is different about her that would have you readily believe her love?”

“I can’t think of anything,” Gemma admitted.

“Then why won’t you believe me?”

“It just doesn’t seem possible…or plausible.”

“Why? You are an incredible woman.”

“You’re a mage, wealthy, and handsome, and I—,”

Stil held up a hand. “Wait, you think I’m handsome?”

Gemma paused. “I…”

“So you did notice my stylish hair and charming good looks. I was starting to grow worried,” Stil preened.

“Stylish is a broad term.”

“Why are you even fighting this?”

“Because you already have the ego of a peacock.”

“No, no, not my stunning looks—”

“I never said stunning.”

“—I was referring to your affection for me.”

Gemma blinked, disarmed by the direct question. “What?”

“It seems to me like you don’t want me to love you, even though you just admitted you feel the same way I do. Why?”

“I find it hard to believe in people,” Gemma said.

“With your background, I can understand that, but I’ve never done anything to make you doubt me,” Stil said, edging towards Gemma as if she were an easily frightened deer. “I have come to your rescue whenever you need me. I won’t let you fall,” Stil promised.

“I’m afraid,” Gemma whispered.

“Of me?” Stil asked, resting his arms on her shoulders.

“No,” Gemma said as Stil pulled her in to hold her. “I don’t know. It’s so confusing, and that is unacceptable,” she said, glaring into Stil’s shirt.

Stil chuckled. “I’m afraid, too,” he said.

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid something will happen, and you’ll feel the need to run off and sacrifice yourself,” he dryly said. “I’m afraid you will keep pushing me away, and that I’ll never get to see that firstborn child.”

“Stil,” Gemma hissed.

“But most of all, I’m afraid you will never let me love you. I choose you, Gemma. I love your loyalty, your practicality, and those rare smiles you will occasionally shed. I love you. Please, let that be enough,” Stil whispered in Gemma’s ear.

Gemma moved her arms to embrace him back. They stood together for a few silent moments that seemed to stretch on for ages.

“And I love you,” Gemma finally admitted, her shoulders hunching in defeat.

“You sound so enthused,” Stil said.

Gemma gave Stil a wan smile.

“Gemma, I love you,” Stil repeated.

Gemma raised an eyebrow, wondering at the response, when Stil abruptly kissed her on the lips.

Although the movement was sudden, the feeling behind Stil’s kiss was anything but. It was passionate and warmer than the heat charm. It reminded Gemma of the starfires at their most brilliant—overwhelming but beautiful.

They parted when the white canine wriggled its way between them, making the pair chuckle.

“What now?” Gemma asked as Stil adjusted his hold on her waist to bring her closer to him.

“Loire? I still need to meet with Prince Severin and Princess Elle.” Stil said.

Gemma thought for a moment and shook her head. “I can’t leave Verglas yet.”

“Why not?” Stil asked, stiffening.

“Lady Linnea. I can’t leave her like this.”

“Won’t she be coming to Loire as well?” Stil asked.