Charlie's breath caught.
The dress was on a dressmaker's form he'd borrowed from Della. Princess Evelaine's gown—blue velvet bodice with silver embroidery, the full skirt in silver and blue silk, the waist fitted.
“Ben,” Charlie whispered, shocked. “That’s?—”
“Princess Evelaine’s dress from the Faire.” He moved to stand beside her.
Charlie reached out and touched the gossamer fabric, her fingers trembling slightly. “You bought this for me?”
“Weeks ago. I've been waiting for the right time to give it to you.”
“How…how did you know?”
“I saw how you looked at it when you took Viv to the costume shop. I knew you had to have it.”
“But there’s no way I can wear it. It can’t possibly fit.”
“Of course it can. I had Della alter it to fit you.” He moved to stand beside her. “She added pockets, too. Said no woman should suffer a dress without pockets.”
Charlie shook her head. “It might fit, but it won’t…fit. Not me. I’m…” She gestured over her body. “This.”
Ben cupped her face in his hands.
“You know, the books never actually describe Princess Evelaine as petite,” Ben said.
Charlie blinked, confused. “Of course they do. She's an Elven princess. She's 'willowy as a slender sapling' and 'her hair shines like starlight on the sea' and her eyes are 'the color of an early morning sky in spring' and…” Charlie frowned as she mentally went through all the descriptions of Evelaine in the books.
Ben grinned. “And?”
“She's…she's got to be petite.”
“Why?”
“Because she's beautiful. The most beautiful princess who ever lived.”
Ben stopped her there. His hands gently curled around her arms just above her elbows. Charlie suddenly found herself face to face with him, and having to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.
“She is the most beautiful princess who ever lived. And I've always pictured her as tall and formidable. Strong. Determined. Loyal.” He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across her cheek then tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Not petite.”
Charlie's hazel eyes went misty.
“I don't know what to say.”
“Say you'll wear it today.”
“Yes.” She laughed, the sound breaking slightly. “God, yes. Thank you!”
“There's one more thing.” Ben picked up a carved wooden box from the table where he made jewelry. The surface was still covered in tools—pliers, files, a magnifying glass on astand, wire-rimmed glasses he wore when he worked on delicate pieces.
He handed her the box.
Charlie opened it carefully. Her eyes lit up again.
Inside, nestled on black velvet, was a silver necklace. Delicate filigree work formed a pendant set with three pale blue stones that matched the dress.
“Ben.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “This is?—”
“I started it the day I bought the dress. Finished it last night.” He took the necklace from the box and moved behind her. “May I?”
