Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

4

1835

“Quickly, follow me!” Pippa said, her voice hushed. “No one will find us in the bell tower.”

“It’s just a game.” Cull gave her one of those slow, crooked grins that made her heart knock against her ribs. “Not life or death.”

In the weeks Cull had been staying with her family, his injuries had healed. His chocolate-brown eyes were free of bruising. Although the housekeeper had given him a trim, his chestnut hair remained shaggy. Pippa suspected that no scissors could tame that unruly mane, but she thought the rough-edged style suited him.

During his recuperation, she’d kept him company at his bedside, reading to him and chatting. She’d concluded that she’d never met a boy like him. The ones she knew were interested in boxing, horses, poetry, and the latest gentlemen’s fashions. Cull, on the other hand, had told her he’d never had time for sports; the only fighting he’d done was in the streets. He wasn’t a connoisseur of horseflesh and could hardly read and write. And he clearly didn’t give a whit about his clothes.

Currently, he was wearing cast-offs from the academy. His wide shoulders stretched the worn linen shirt, the plain brown waistcoat hugging his lean torso. Due to his height, the trousers ended several inches higher than they should have above his large, scuffed boots. He wasn’t refined, well-groomed, or anything like Pippa’s other male acquaintances.

Yet what made Cull truly different from other boys was the way he focused on her. Unlike most fellows, he was more apt to listen than talk. He asked her questions and seemed fascinated by what she had to say. She’d always thought of herself as ordinary, especially compared to her remarkable parents. Cull, however, made her feel worthy of attention, his presence setting off a strange, tingling awareness inside her…

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Maisie’s sing-song voice broke Pippa’s reverie.

Pippa had supervised a writing class at her parents’ school today. She’d promised the children a game of hide-and-seek for completing their lesson, which had led to the alphabet being copied in record time. Making good on her promise, she’d let the class draw straws; Maisie had selected the shortest, which made her the seeker. When Cull had shown up, Maisie had roped him into playing.

Hearing Maisie’s voice grow nearer, Pippa whispered, “It may be just a game, but I am not losing. Come with me or find your own way…it is your choice.”

She reached for the door to the tower; Cull beat her to it.

He opened the door for her, saying easily, “I’ll go wif you.”

Pippa’s blue skirts rustled as she led the way up the winding stairwell. When she and her brothers were younger, they had loved racing up these wooden steps to see who could get up to the top first. The prize was the view: when she stepped into the belfry, her pulse raced with exhilaration. The cupola sat five stories above the ground, a stone balustrade the only barrier between her and the grey sky and migrating clouds. A reflexive thought struck her: what would it be like to plunge over that railing and fall into the vast void? She shuddered, the fear heightening her excitement, making her heart pound faster.

Gripping the waist-high railing, she gazed down at the sprawling campus of the academy. Its long buildings formed a quadrangle, which contained a tree-filled garden. From this height, the students appeared tiny as they ambled along the graveled paths.

“Jesus wept, this is a view,” Cull said from beside her.

She smiled at the wonder in his voice. “It is my favorite spot.”

Cull peered at the empty vault above them. “What ’appened to the bell?”

“No one knows for certain. It was already missing when Papa purchased the property.” Pippa slid him a mischievous look. “There are rumors, however.”

Cull raised his brows. “What sort o’ rumors?”

“The place used to be a spice warehouse, and the bell was used to summon the workers at the end of the day. Apparently, one night was so foggy and dark, with not a star in the sky, that the fellow who rang the bell misjudged where he was and fell to his death. The next day, when the warehouse opened, the bell was gone.” Pippa lowered her voice, the way her mama did when getting to the good part of the story. “They say the man’s ghost took it, and if you listen closely on the darkest nights, you can hear him ringing the bell.”

Cull’s rugged features paled. “You’re pulling me leg.”

“I have heard the bell ringing myself.”

“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts.” He didn’t sound entirely convinced.

She widened her eyes and pointed. “Then what is that standing behind you?”

When he jerked around, she let out a peal of laughter.

“Very amusing.” He rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You fell for it.” Lips twitching, she said, “Don’t feel too badly. Garrett and Hugh jumped higher than you did when I told them that story.”

He shook his shaggy head. “You’re a mystery, ain’t you?”

“Hardly.” Wrinkling her nose, Pippa returned her gaze to the view below, checking for Maisie and the others. “I’m the least interesting person in my family.”

Cull leaned his forearms on the balustrade. “You’re not boring to me.”

“That is kind of you to say.”

“I ain’t being kind. I find you…interesting.”

She glanced at him beneath her lashes, only to find him staring back. His brown eyes had a molten intensity that set off those strange tingles again. No male had ever regarded her with such blatant admiration. Even though her parents allowed her more freedom than most, she knew she shouldn’t be alone with Cull—with any member of the opposite sex—yet she wasn’t quite ready to end their time together.

Cull was exciting and different. In some ways, he was so much wiser and experienced than she was. He’d survived a life in the slums that she couldn’t even fathom. She respected his strength and the way he cared for his sister. Papa, himself a product of the stews, had even remarked upon Cull’s fine qualities.

At the same time, Cull lacked social polish. When it came to manners, he was ragged around the edges and didn’t flirt the way some boys were beginning to do with her. He was forthright, sometimes unnervingly so. Although his earnestness could make for awkward moments, she found it an appealing change from flowery compliments and witty innuendoes.

She couldn’t resist teasing him. “What do you find interesting about me, sir?”

“I like the way you talk. It doesn’t even matter what you say…your voice, it’s soothing. I like the way you are wif the children—you don’t talk down to ’em like most misses o’ your station would. I like that you read and paint and act like a lady. But that you also ’ave a streak o’ mischief and boldness.” He came closer, and she turned, her back to the balustrade. He settled his palms on the railing on either side of her. “Last, but far from least, I like the way you look, sunshine.”

Her pulse fluttered wildly. No one had ever spoken to her in so blunt a manner. Or described her in such a fashion.

“Why do you call me ‘sunshine’?” she blurted. “Is it because of my hair?”

“Partly.” His lazy smile sent butterflies swarming through her belly. “But mostly on account o’ the fact that you light up any room you enter.”

Her lips formed a soundless “oh” of surprise. The heat in his eyes mesmerized her, making her feel light-headed. She swayed backward, feeling a moment’s panic when her shoulders met with air.

He caught her by the arms, pulling her away from the edge.

“Easy there. You all right, sunshine?”

“I…I felt dizzy,” she said breathlessly. “For an instant, I thought I might fall.”

“I would never let you fall.”

He tipped her head back, and she saw that his eyes had gone as dark as midnight. His mask of politeness had been ripped off, revealing something feral. Hungry. Something she didn’t quite understand. Yet she knew that he was going to kiss her…and she didn’t want to stop him. When he lowered his head, she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of her first kiss.

It was gentle and lovely. Cull courted her mouth, his firm yet velvety lips moving against hers with drugging sweetness. She didn’t know that a kiss would have a flavor, but it did. Cull tasted of peppermint and salt and himself. The combination made her heart thump, a wave of warmth rushing through her. When he licked the seam of her lips, she gave a start of surprise, clutching onto his lapels for balance.

He broke the kiss, tightening his arms around her.

Resting his forehead against hers, he said hoarsely, “I’m sorry, sunshine. Was that too much?”

It was as if some invisible hand had tight-laced her corset strings. She couldn’t breathe. Her skin felt hot and flushed, her insides itchy with a strange heat.

“Is anyone up here?”

Pippa jumped at the sound of Maisie’s voice floating up the steps. Panic besieged her. She couldn’t be caught up here alone with a boy—and one she’d just kissed, no less.

She pushed at Cull, but he pulled her closer, whispering in her ear, “Stay here and let me take care o’ Maisie. I’ll see you later?”

She managed a shaky nod. He let her go, pausing to tuck a fallen curl behind her ear. His callused fingertips brushed the curve of her cheek, and she quivered.

His mouth curved slowly. Then he strode away, disappearing down the tower steps, calling, “Maisie, you clever girl. Found me, didn’t you?”

Alone, Pippa waited to regain her equilibrium before going to the balustrade and peering over the edge. She watched as Cull exited the tower with his sister. He looked up; even though she couldn’t see his expression, she felt his smile. She tingled from head to toe, and this time it wasn’t because she was afraid of falling.