by Carolyn Rae
“Yes, I can.”
“But we’re just kids having fun,” said a larger, stocky boy. We weren’t going to hurt him. That would be mean.”
Lawrence focused his gaze on the stocky boy. “And you do not think calling him four legs isn’t mean?”
“But it’s true,” said the skinny boy. “He can’t walk without those crutches.”
Lawrence put a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder. “Suppose you broke your leg and had to wear a cast like his. Wouldn’t you like to walk in the park without being bothered?”
“Well, I guess so, but I’m not going to be clumsy and break my leg like he did.”
“That could happen to anyone. You shouldn’t be mean to someone because of an accident. Someday it might happen to you. Besides, being nice to everyone is important. It makes you a good person.”
The three boys backed away. The skinny one said, “I’m sorry, Jacque. I didn’t stop to think what I said would hurt.”
“What’s your name,” Lawrence asked the taller boy.
“Jean.”
“Would you like to visit the old castle and see some armor.”
Jean nodded. “I’d like that, Your Highness.” He looked around. “Can they come, too?”
“That depends. Can you all promise to think twice before saying something to make someone else feel bad?”
The skinny boy and the other one said, “We will.” They all looked at the biggest boy.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Guess I can do that.”
Lawrence said, “Then you all can come.”
The boy on crutches smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He made his way over to a short woman, most likely his grandmother. “Hey, Nana, the prince is going to take me and my friends to see a suit of armor in an old castle.”
Lawrence got back in the limo. “Drive on.”
Tricia met the prince’s gaze. “That was nice of you.”
“I couldn’t see letting them pick on that boy.”
* * *
Two hours later, after sipping a cup of tea and eating a creamy dessert that tasted of limes and strawberries, Tricia rose from the chaise lounge in the sitting room. She felt rested and refreshed, but wished Serena would soon return to help undo all the tiny buttons in the back so she could take off the expensive dress and put on something suitable for fencing.
Someone knocked. She opened the door enough to peek into the hallway.
A servant boy, his red hair neatly combed stood there. “Your Highness, Prince Lawrence will meet you here in twenty minutes for your fencing lesson.”
Was she ready for that?
Chapter Five
Lawrence’s voice sounded through the bedroom door. “It is time for your fencing lesson. Will you be ready soon?”
“Serena left to help the queen dress her hair, and I just now found my jeans and shirt neatly folded on the bathroom counter with my Adidas on the floor nearby. It will take me a few minutes to change.” She hoped wearing jeans for fencing would be okay.
Maybe, if she learned to fence, she could show Lawrence she could do something right.
She set Allysa’s toe-pinching pumps on the bottom of the armoire. While she managed to undo part of the tiny buttons down her back and those near her waist, she couldn’t reach the ones in the middle. Damn, she needed help. Why wasn’t Serena back yet?
Tricia opened the doorway a crack. “Undo the middle buttons for me, will you please?” She turned her back to him.
His low chuckle reverberated in the sitting room. She hoped no one was near.
“Of course.”
His breath sent shivers across her bared back. The warmth of his fingers touching her skin spread frissons of warmth down her spine.
His throaty whisper brought her back to the moment. “Shall I undo the rest of the buttons?”
She held both edges of the heavy dress to keep it from falling. “No thank you. I can handle it from here.” She whirled, catching a devilish grin pursing his lips before he shut the door.
Imagining him undoing the lower buttons and sliding his hand under her slip, Tricia slipped out of Allysa’s designer dress and laid it on the bed. She scrambled into her jeans and T-shirt.
She opened the door. “I’m ready.”
He grinned. “I do not think so. Dangling jewelry and fencing don’t go together.” She glanced in the mirror, amused at the incongruity of an emerald necklace and dangling earrings reaching almost to the collar of her T-shirt. Quickly, she unfastened the earrings and laid them in the jewel box on the dresser.
She reached to unclasp the emerald necklace, but Lawrence had already stepped behind her, his aftershave flowing over her, and the heat from his body threatening to unnerve her.
“Allow me.” His gentle fingers snapped the clasp open as he pulled the ends of the glittering strand away.
Her neck still tingling, she grasped the necklace and earrings and returned them to their velvet box. “Do you think they will be safe in the drawer? I’d hate to be blamed for their disappearance.”
He opened the top drawer and grabbed a key she hadn’t noticed. He picked up the case and walked to a cabinet on the wall. After setting the case inside, he locked the cabinet and stuffed the key into his pocket. “It should be safe now.”
He looked her up and down. “You American ladies love your jeans, but they are not suitable for fencing. You need to be agile and quick.” He bounced around, light on his feet and jabbed a finger at her, touching her hip and sending a shot of electricity through her.
He opened the armoire and pulled out some yoga tights and a matching green tank top.
She stared. “That looks like underwear.”
He grinned. “So?”
“You wouldn’t make your cousin wear a sports bra and leggings to fence with you.”
“No, but I’m not fencing with my cousin, just someone who looks a lot like her, but prettier.”
She liked the way he said, “prettier,” and his look of admiration. “I hope we don’t’ have an audience.” That’s all she needed, having someone watch her awkward movements.
“Put those on. I’ll wait in the sitting room.”
Minutes later, she heard his impatient knock and opened the door.
“Come,” he said. He took her hand, his clasp warm and firm. He led her down red carpeted halls and up a narrow winding staircase to a large room.
Mirrors covered one whole wall. Lawrence walked to the opposite paneled wall, draped his jacket over the rack, and picked up two fencing rapiers. He slipped protective shields over the tips. “I would not want to pierce your tender skin.”
He handed her one. It was heavier than she’d expected, but he tossed his in the air, then caught it. After setting the rapiers aside, he donned a protective vest and showed her how to put one on. He faced her, rapier in hand. “Now, stand like this.”
His image in the mirror showed rock hard thighs and calves straining against his close-fitting gray pants. Likewise, his broad chest and firm biceps filled out his tight-fitting, cream-colored shirt.
“What are you looking at? Surely, you’re not checking me out.” His grin was back.
“Would I admit it, even if I were?”
He laughed. “Knowing you, probably not.”
She wished she already knew how to fence so she could show him up, or at least match him. She tried to mimic his pose, but he shook his head.
“Not like that. Bend your knees just a little and rock back and forth. Keep your weight on the balls of your feet. You have to be flexible and ready to parry.” He came around behind her and positioned her arms.
His warm breath caressed her neck. The heat from his chest warmed her back all the way to her waist. She tucked in her buttocks to avoid touching him below the waist, but he moved closer. Thankfully, all she felt were a firm abdomen and sturdy thighs. Then he stepped back.
As he moved her arms and told her where to grip the foil, she noticed a fine dusting of golden hairs on his muscular fo
rearms. What would it be like to have those arms wrapped around her while he nuzzled her neck?
Stop it, she told herself. She was here to do a job for the royal family. And if she could also start a discussion to free Cordilleran women from the shackles of custom and royal edicts, that would be a good thing.
Straightening up, she bumped her head against his face.
“Ouch,” he said. “Watch what you are doing.” He rubbed his nose. “I will forgive you–if my nose doesn’t start bleeding.”
She turned to look at his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
Lawrence waved it off. He showed her how to dance around an opponent and how to watch for an unprotected spot on the body.
He went through several moves in slow motion, then had her imitate them. Once she poked his chest with the tip of the foil.
He pushed it away. “Excellent! Now, you are getting it.”
She liked the sound of that. It made her feel confident.
“See if you can pick up the pace.”
She kept trying to aim the foil to one side so he’d be off balance, but he was way too quick for her. Good thing this was only practice. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if this were for real.
After a while, she said, “Now, show me how fast fencers really move.”
He was so quick on his feet she could hardly dodge him, let alone get off a poke at him. It was all she could do to parry his thrusts. She did however, get in one good lunge at his chest and heard his surprised “Oof.”
She watched him come at her, his rapier aimed at her chest. She managed to parry that thrust, but she knocked the protective tip off his foil. He came at her again, and the tip of his rapier scratched her arm. It didn’t hurt much, but the blood ran down her arm. Mesmerized, she watched it snake toward her hand. Suddenly, feeling a bit faint, she leaned against the mirrored wall, not caring that her blood smeared the glass.
“I hurt you. I did not mean to.” He grasped her hands. Concern shone in his brown eyes.
“Come. Your wound must be tended.”
She laughed. “I’m not wounded, just nicked.”
“You look faint, and you are still bleeding. I will carry you downstairs to your room. I should be able to find something clean to put over the wound to stop the bleeding.”
Surprised that he knew a little about first aid, she shook her head. “No way. I’ll walk if I have to support myself against the stairway wall.”
“We will see about that.” He picked her up as if she were a bouquet of flowers and carried her to the stairway.
“Put me down.”
He laughed. “Not while I have a legitimate reason to hold you in my arms.” He pulled her closer until her breast pressed against his chest. “I love feeling your softness against my heart.” The look in his eyes melted her heart.
She’d have to watch herself around him. She raised her eyebrows. “As long as I’m pretending to be your cousin, you mustn’t act like this.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want to treat you like I do my cousin. Even though you resemble her, you’re much prettier.” He smiled. “And definitely sexier.”
His warm breath rippled her hair like a summer breeze, but no breeze ever made her heart race like being in his arms. And heaven help her if he ever realized how much he affected her.
At the bottom of the stairs, he reached for the door. “Put me down,” she said, more forcefully this time. He did, and she suddenly felt cooler. Avoiding the dripping blood, she massaged her arm.
He splayed his hand over her waist and nudged her against the wall. What was he going to do? Kiss her?
“Wait,” he said, “until I see if there is someone to help.” He cracked open the door. “No one’s about. Come on.”
Taking her hand, he led her through Allysa’s suite and into the pink-tiled bathroom with its marble tub. He grabbed a white towel from the gold, lionhead ring and blotted the fresh blood from her arm.
Tricia still felt faint, but was relieved to see the bleeding had slowed to a trickle.
Lawrence dampened a white washcloth. Gently he sponged the blood off, pulling at her skin as it did. “Ouch,” she murmured.
He applied pressure. “Sorry, I did not mean to hurt you.” He lifted the cloth and peered at the thin red line. “It is not very deep—should not take long to heal.” He rummaged around in the mirrored cabinet and pulled out a bottle. When he took off the stopper, the cloying scent of musky perfume filled the air. “I do not know why Allysa does not have any alcohol, but you need a disinfectant right away. I am not sure which dragon’s blood that rapier was stained with last.”
She laughed. “And how many dragons have you killed?”
He scratched his head and grinned. “I cannot remember exactly.” He poured some on a tissue and dabbed it on her arm. It stung. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from crying out.
His gaze met hers. “Sorry, I feared that might sting, but the perfume should have enough alcohol to kill the germs until I can summon the imperial physician.”
She stared at him. “It’s just a cut. I don’t need a doctor.”
“I will summon him immediately.”
She glanced at her watch, “But it’s after six. He won’t be on duty now.”
“Physicians are used to being called out at any time, especially by the royal family—even for a headache. It’s an honor to be designated as royal physician. Few doctors in that position would refuse.” He strode back into the bedroom and pulled on a rope with a velvet tassel.
Minutes later, Serena came into the room. “You rang, mistress?” She glanced at Lawrence. “Oh, Your Highness, I didn’t know you were here.”
“We were fencing, and she got hurt. Call Dr. Schmidt immediately.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Serena trotted from the room.
Lawrence picked Tricia up and carried her toward the bed. “Dr. Schmidt has treated our family since before I was born.”
After laying her down gently, he looked at her, his expression inscrutable.
What now? Oh, she felt the attraction, but surely, just because he laid her on the bed didn’t mean he’d expect more.
Tricia sat up and walked to the window. She started to pull the draperies open.
“Stop,” he said. We do not want too much light in here. Dr. Schmidt might notice you are not Allysa.”
Ten minutes later, footsteps sounded. Lawrence urged her toward the bed. Minutes later, a rotund man with his shirt unbuttoned at the neck, walked in, followed by Serena. “Good evening, Your Highnesses.” He bowed. “Vat can be ze trouble?” he asked in a heavy German accent.
“She was accidentally scratched with the tip of a fencing foil,” Lawrence said.
The doctor bent over Tricia. His dark blond hair hung untidily around his face as he examined her arm. “How can zat be? Ladies in this country do not fence, and certainly not ze princess.”
Lawrence said, “We were only practicing, and the protective tip of my foil fell off.”
“Stay on ze bed.” Shaking his head, the doctor opened his black bag and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. He sponged her wound. It stung, and she winced. He glanced down. “Nice hips always good for making babies.”
Tricia glared at him. He was getting too personal.
“At least with royals,” the doctor said, “the women do marry first. I see too many late in life babies.” He pointed a finger in the air. “Hypocrites, I say. I wish ze king would bring ze country into ze twenty-first century. He should allow the mothers to keep the babies and force the fathers of ze wrong side of ze blanket babies to marry or support ze children.”
“Amen to that.” Tricia moved her arm away from the doctor.
Prince Lawrence frowned. “You had better not say that to the king.” He faced the doctor. Thanks for your services. Now you can be dismissed.”
“Nein, nein. I am not finished, Your Highness,” said the doctor. He tapped his head. “Let’s see. It’s been less than five years
since ze last tetanus shot. You vill not need to have that this time.” He busied himself putting a dressing on her arm, then gave her two aspirins.
She swallowed them and sat on the bed. The doctor bowed and left the room.
“Do you need anything else, Your Highness?” Serena asked.
“No. You may be excused.”
After Serena left, Lawrence perched on the edge of the chaise lounge. “Would you like me to stay awhile to see if you feel any worse?”
Tricia frowned. “Of course not. Surely, I can make it to the bell rope by myself if I need anyone.” Feeling tired, she lay back down on the bed.
He patted her shoulder. “Ask Serena to have the chef send you up some supper, and I will see you in the morning. I am sorry to have caused you all this trouble.”
“That’s okay. I know it was an accident.”
“If you are up to it, we can go horseback riding in the morning.”
After he shut the door, Serena came and ran a bath for her. When hot water touched Tricia’s arm, it smarted, but the pain soon dulled. Serena brought her a sandwich and some hot tea.
After climbing in bed, she thought about Lawrence. She enjoyed his flattery and hearing his thoughts on things, but he was getting under her skin. She needed to back off. The king and queen would never accept him being involved with someone like her.
Even if Lawrence were to ignore all the obstacles to marrying a commoner, she couldn’t see herself as his princess—or shackled with restrictions like Cordilleran women.
She fell asleep, remembering how she’d felt snuggled up against his chest. Too bad he was a prince and off limits in Cordillera. Besides, she had a doctorate to finish.
Chapter Six
Morning dawned bright and clear. Surprised to find herself in a high bed with a soft mattress, Tricia blinked. Then she remembered. She was a pretend princess.
She could even stay in bed and have breakfast brought to her. But she needed to go to the bathroom. That large pink marble tub looked inviting. Fencing made her use muscles she didn’t know she had. She filled the tub and hoped hot water would ease her aches.
