While Rumpel himself did not frighten her, she had to admit that the sentience of that contraption did make her knees knock together like rolling marbles. Thankfully, she was wearing a dress of woven starlight that covered her to her ankles.
His smile was lascivious with a hint of cruel intentions twisted up in it. “Mmm, Danika, truly you’re a sight to behold, little fairy. Quite lovely you’ve become since that horrid affair ended with the sun and Hatter’s daughter. Which, I might add”—he lifted a finger—“I helped to negotiate. No?” His brows quirked.
Danika huffed with indignation. “You were never good enough to kiss the soles of my muddy shoes, old man, and had you not interfered in my business,” she said, stressing the word, “I can assure you I still would have found a way to—”
He scoffed, making that damnable dimple appear. God, but she hated the reactions that man elicited from her. She did not want to like him, did not want to enjoy looking at him, and yet she was as helpless as iron shavings drawn to a magnet. He had the sort of evil pull about him that simply demanded a woman stop and stare.
Blinking and screwing up her courage, she averted her gaze and realized she could breathe just a little easier when she did it.
“You do think highly of yourself, Danika, and should Jericho ever cease to divert you, I’d willingly step up to the plate. But come, come, fairy, will you not at least look at me?”
The devil was in that man’s tongue.
“Nay.” She glowered. “I will not. And I still say you are to leave my charge alone.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw him stand from his perch and shake his head with a semi-bored look. “Technically she is not that either. You see, I know these things. Her father is your charge; Shayera doesn’t even have a godmother yet. Tsk. Tsk. I mean…” He scrubbed his lightly stubbled jaw with strong, blunt fingers. “’You’ve as good as invited the Big Bad Wolf to come and snatch her up.”
Jerking her gaze up, she glared at him. “One, I know the Wolf and he’s an honorable man. Two—”
He sighed as a glittering roll of parchment crackled to life before him. Her heart sank; Rumpel’s deals were legendary and binding. Her dragonfly wings buzzed in agitation.
“What is that?” She hissed, squinting her eyes against the blinding flame curling at its edges.
“What? This?” He pointed at the sheet, smiling in a way that could only be called supremely satisfied. “Why, only a binding, legitimate contract between one Rumpelstiltskin—that’s me.” His brows waggled. “And one Gerard Caron. Hmm.” He stared at the sheet with a perplexed sort of frown. “Did he not tell you? Did you not know? Why, I thought your bad five had reformed their ways. How very naughty of him.” His accent was a mix between Gaelic and British and made her insides curl with fronds of heat to hear it, to feel it almost like a lover’s stroke against her flesh.
She hated that man, truly she did. Bastard was most definitely glamouring himself.
The parchment rolled up, disappearing in a bright flash of flame as he sat back down on his rumbling beast.
Danika shook her head. She would have never known what Rumpel had been up to if the Huntsman hadn’t whispered in her ear about a certain prophecy the imp was working obsessively to stave off. A prophecy that he was apparently sure involved Caron’s wild beauty, Shayera.
“Why do you want her?”
Frowning, Rumpel gunned the throttle and the machine came to life, roaring so loudly that she felt the wave of sound rush through her. His smile was grim. “Why I want her is none of your concern. She’s an unchaperoned denizen of Kingdom.”
Meaning he didn’t need to explain himself to her and well she knew it.
Twisting his hair in a knot behind his head, he nodded at her.
“Wait!” She held out her hand, rushing to his side. “You must vow to do her no harm. Swear it, Rumpel, or I’ll hide her from ye.” She trembled, but not with fear now, no… with determination to do what was right.
“Oh, come now,” he whispered with that shivery burr of his. “You know that’s beyond the pale. You hide her, I’ll tell the fairy council of your abuse of power and your wings will be stripped. Is one lone girl really worth all that?”
He was absolutely right. Paragraph one thousand, two hundred eleven of the Book of Lore said: Interfering in the good work of another magical entity is punishable by law to the very severest penalty.
She clapped her hand on his wrist and narrowed her eyes. “The law says ‘good work.’ I don’t trust you, devil. In any case, I’ve never much cared for laws or rules. If you know me at all, you’d know that to be a statement of absolute fact. I’ll do what I must, I always have.” She punctuated each word, daring him to deny it.