by Gemma Hart
“I don’t droo—”
But before I could finish protesting, he pushed the mug back against my lips, silencing me with the rich creamy goodness.
I rolled my eyes.
“This is stupid—” I tried again to protest.
Xander cut me off with another forced sip before giving me a sardonic look. “Yes, it is stupid,” he agreed. “That a grown girl could go days without realizing she hasn’t eaten a bite. That is stupid.”
I huffed.
Although it was a little embarrassing having Xander feed me like a child, there was also something kind of comforting about it as well. I had almost no memories of my parents and no recollections of ever being hugged or held as a child. My heart felt warm and soft as Xander held me carefully, firmly, protectively, while feeding me.
And instead of anger or abuse, he gently admonished me instead while feeding me. He was annoyed, exasperated, and probably sick of my many escape attempts but he wasn’t brutal or cruel.
I slowly chewed the thick soup, staring up at him in silent curiosity.
Xander swirled the mug a bit to gather all the good bits up before asking in a deceptively casual tone, “So why did you go five days without food?”
I took in a deep breath before saying, “My governess had seen me spill a bit of soup on the dining table during dinner. And she said if I couldn’t learn to eat like a princess, then I might as well not eat at all.” I tried to shrug but trapped in the blanket and Xander’s arms, it came out as more of a wiggle. “That was the longest she had made me go.”
Xander’s dark brows rose suddenly. “You mean, she’s starved you before then?” he asked in surprise.
“Before then, after then, it was a very common disciplinary method of Lady Angstrom’s,” I said. I eyed the mug a little, already missing the taste of the soup.
Xander caught my gaze and obliged, pressing the mug against my lips. Although it was clear that I was enjoying the soup and able to feed myself, he made no motion to put me down and I made no motion to get off. I was feeling quite comfortable and soothed where I was.
It had been a hectic and emotional last few days and for the first time in a long time, I felt all that stress melt away from me, leaving me drained and almost drunk. I felt like a boneless mass that had used up all its energy in trying to keep calm and sane.
“Is that a common thing for governesses to do?” Xander asked. I could tell he was trying to speak casually but I saw the cut in his brow that spoke of his worry and outrage on my behalf. I felt touched.
“Well, I’ve only had Lady Angstrom so I don’t know how any other governess would’ve treated me. But I’ve met girls at school who had governesses as well and not all of them seemed to have had bad experiences. Some of them were quite close with their governesses actually.” I pressed my lips, feeling that sight raise of tension whenever I thought about my former governess. “I was not, of course.”
“Why didn’t you complain? Tell someone about what your governess was doing to you?” Xander demanded, clearly not happy at this injustice.
I gave a mirthless smile. “Who would I have complained to? My parents died when I was three. Even though that meant I was now a Crown Princess and future Queen, I wouldn’t formally be coronated until I was twenty six years old. So until then, I needed a guardian.”
“Your uncle,” Xander guessed.
I shook my head. “Minister Pryto,” I corrected. “My uncle always knew he’d never be King as second son. So he never took part in any of the more formal State functions and didn’t operate within the royal schedules. So parliament decided that Minister Pryto would be the better option since he was familiar with the workings of government and was Royal Liaison.”
“What is that—Royal Liaison?”
“It’s basically like a Prime Minister. He works between the monarchy and the parliament. Next to the King or Queen, he is the highest level of government.”
I saw Xander’s mind turning over my words. I could almost see him drawing up the correct conclusions. “It makes a lot of sense why he’s heading this revolt then,” he said.
I nodded encouragingly. “That’s right. If he overthrows the monarchy, he’d be the logical next bet to take over.”
Xander shook his head, confused. “So he was the one that was responsible for you while you were growing up?”
I gave that odd shrug/wiggle. “Well, he was supposed to be like an advisor. He was supposed to guide me and mentor me so that when I finally ascended to the throne, I would be a knowledgeable leader.” I pressed my lips and blew out some air in a sign of defeat. “But he did more than that. He hired my nannies, my governess, my maids. He dictated what curriculums I would follow, what schools I would attend. And whenever I made complaints, he would always say that he was giving me the absolute best and that I deserved nothing less.”
I remembered the first time I had come to Minister Pryto at nine years old. I had large black and blue bruises the size and shape of plums down the backs of my legs from Lady Angrstrom’s discipline stick. She had beaten me repeatedly as I stumbled through my multiplication tables aloud.
I had told the Minister that I thought Lady Angstrom was being unkind and he had immediately shaken his head, a grave expression weighing down his face.
“Your Highness,” he assured me, “Lady Angstrom comes with the highest recommendations. She is the absolute best in educating a woman of your stature. And I hope Your Highness trusts that I would never provide the princess with anything less than the best.”
In other words, Lady Angstrom was staying.
It didn’t matter how many times he had seen me bruised or starved or crying. He never swayed in keeping Lady Angstrom.
He knew keeping a princess weak and beaten was the key to his ultimate success.
I sighed, suddenly realizing his plan had actually worked. He was leading a successful revolt against me.
“I thought as a princess, you had the power to say and do whatever you want,” Xander said, brow furrowed in confusion.
I smiled reluctantly. “If only,” I said. “I’m afraid that’s only in movies. I couldn’t have had less freedom growing up than if I had been a serf.”
Xander’s sharp eyes suddenly pinned me down. “Is that why you always lived abroad?” he asked suddenly. “So you’d have a chance at more freedom?”
I nearly lost my breath at his sudden and sharp insight. Collecting myself, I gave a small neutral smile and said, “Maybe it was.”
This time, I did wriggle free, undoing the blankets that were wrapped around me. But before I could get off his lap, Xander held me by my waist, keeping me in place as he pressed the mug to my lips, urging me to swallow the last sip. I wrapped my hands around the large mug and felt a sudden warmth as his large hand wrap around mine.
But as I drank from the mug, I could feel Xander’s eyes on me, studying me carefully, trying to figure out just how many secrets a princess held.
Lots, I thought. Lots.
Chapter Six
Xander
Sipping my coffee, I watched her as she ate her toast. I wasn’t going to have her fainting and whacking her head on the ground or anywhere else again.
Since last night, she seemed to have calmed down a bit. Although clearly reluctant about being in Wyoming, she seemed to have accepted it for the time being. And that meant less chasing for me.
Thank god for small mercies.
She looked ridiculously fresh and adorable for the morning. Her soft auburn hair was thrown up into a bun. Her skin had a dewiness to it that made her glow and she looked so goddamn good sitting in one of my old shirts. Even in shirts and sweats, this girl was a looker.
“So, now what?” she asked, taking a sip of coffee. She looked at me questioningly over the rim of her mug.
“Now what, what?” I asked, although I knew what she meant.
She rolled her eyes at me, making me grin. She knew I was playing dumb. “Now that we’re here, what do we do? Do we
just sit on the porch and stare at trees?”
I put down my mug and clapped my hands together, rubbing my palms, itching to get to work on my ranch. I said, “Nope. Not a lot of staring time on ranches, especially ranches that get abandoned for months at a time by a roving owner. First we’re going to town. And then we’ll get to work.”
“Town?” She perked up a little at the word. “What town? I didn’t see any town on our way in.”
“There’s a town ten miles west of here,” I said. “We’ll go there and grab some supplies for the ranch and some clothes for you.”
She still had no clothes to her name except whatever I could rummage for her in the house. But everything was much too big for her to wear on a daily basis, working.
Her eyes lit up a little with guarded hope. “You have stores here,” she said in a voice that sounded like skepticism drenched in wariness.
I nodded and said in a country twang, “And running water and this new fangled thing called ‘lectrickity!”
Sofia rolled her oceanic eyes and I wondered if I’d ever get sick of seeing her reluctantly amused expressions. She seemed so guarded about actually being amused or smiling, as if she had to always hold back and protect herself.
It made me wonder what a genuine smile from her would look like.
“Well, I have to say,” she started slowly, picking up her second piece of toast, “it’ll be nice to get some proper decent clothes finally.”
I grinned. “I know just the place to get them.”
***
“What…What is this?” Sofia asked with very thinly veiled confusion and hesitation.
“A thrift store,” I responded happily.
Sofia stood frozen at the entrance of Jeannie’s Fashion Closet, the town’s thrift store and also the largest clothing store. The town of Simone was a small and close-knit community of only about 2500 people. They never really need anything more than farming and handwork equipment. Fashion was always on the lowest rung so a thrift store more than happily filled their needs.
But it was clear by Sofia’s expression she had never been inside a thrift store. Probably never even seen one. And I enjoyed watching her expression of confusion morph into one of horror then shock then anger as she glared at me for not warning her ahead of time.
I smiled back at her, unrepentantly.
“I thought you said you knew just the place to get me some proper decent clothes,” Sofia said.
“I did,” I insisted, playing dumb and grinning at her. “Here we are! World’s best thrift store, by far!”
“These clothes look used,” Sofia said, eyeing a rack of jeans, not daring to touch them.
“They are,” I answered simply, enjoying her reactions.
She whirled on me in horror. “This store is filled with used clothes?” she asked, her mouth agape. “Used by who?”
I shrugged. “By everyone. Anyone can donate. But in a town small as this, I’m betting everyone’s worn the clothes in here at least once. Jeannie’s not kidding calling this a closet. It really is for a lot of people.”
Sofia shuddered, imagining herself wearing clothes an unknown stranger had worn.
“I want to go to a real store,” she demanded. “With clothes nobody has worn!”
I shrugged. “I’m sorry, babe. This is it for Simone. So try and find something you can walk around in, huh? Some jeans are a good start.”
“Is that you, Xander?” a voice called out from the back of the store.
I looked up and smiled at the older woman. “Yes, Miss Jeannie, it’s me,” I said.
Jeannie, a woman in her early fifties and quite stout, hurried over to envelope me in a large hug. She wore bright plastic earrings and bright eye shadow. Nothing about Jeannie was subtle, including her affections.
“When did you get back into town?” she asked, squeezing my arms as she craned her head to look up at me. Not giving me a chance to answer, she steamrollered on, “Look at your face! You’ve lost weight, haven’t you? I’ll bring over a casserole later this week. And who’s this? Your girlfriend? So pretty! Why don’t you introduce us? I’m Jeannie. You let me know if there’s anything you need help with! When did you meet her, Xander? What a looker! Now, what are you looking for today, dear?”
Sofia stared at Jeannie in stunned silence, clearly not sure what to say or which question to answer. More used to Jeannie’s normal blocks of questions, I wrapped an around Sofia’s shoulders, pulling her in close.
“That’s right, Jeannie,” I said smiling. “This here’s my girl, Sofia.” I ignored Sofia as she whipped her head up at me to glare in offended silence. But before she could protest, I continued. “And she needs some clothes. Unfortunately, all her luggage got lost on the way out here and she needs something she can wear around the ranch.”
Jeannie clapped her hands together. “Oh would you look at the pair that you two make! And I’m so sorry, dear, about your luggage. I swear, airlines these days make it their business to be as incompetent as possible. But don’t you worry. Old Jeannie has you covered here. Now with a little thing like you, we should head over here to find some of the slimmer cut jeans for you. And I bet I can guess your size! Oh but of course I won’t say it out loud in front of a boy!”
Jeannie giggled like a schoolgirl and grabbed Sofia’s hand, firmly pulling her along down the thick racks of clothing. Sofia turned back to me with a desperate look but I just nodded and waved as I heard Jeannie ask, “Is there a particular color you like? I just got in a bunch of green flannel shirts that I think will bring out your eyes beautifully. And in this place, you’ll need some good flannel.”
I probably shouldn’t have said she was my girlfriend. After all, who knew when she’d leave? She could very well leave tomorrow and then it’d be an awkward explanation the next time I was in town, explaining why my girlfriend had suddenly disappeared.
But I couldn’t help it. It had been a gut response. And staring after her, I didn’t regret one word.
As I was walking out, I heard Sofia ask, “Do you have any clothes that aren’t used or worn?”
Jeannie’s peals of laughter ushered me out of the store as she responded, “Oh honey! Xander sure knows how to pick ‘em! What a funny little girl you are! Now, here’s the flannel that I was talking about—”
I couldn’t help grinning as I walked over to the hardware store.
***
After taking about two hours at the hardware store, I strolled back over to Jeannie’s to pick up Sofia.
As I entered the store, I saw Jeannie suddenly scramble towards me, a big grin wreathing her face. There was something different about her face, I noticed, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Somehow, her features looked a little more pulled together and…I dunno…smoother.
I furrowed my brows as I stared down at her as she looked up at me expectantly.
“Now don’t you move from here!” she said, gripping my arms and placing me directly in front of one of the dressing rooms. “Don’t you move! We’ve made quite the wardrobe makeover and we want to make sure you get a good look at your new country girl!”
My lips twitched imagining Sofia as a “country girl.” I remembered the magazines showcasing the evening dresses she had worn to red carpet events or movie premieres. The girl had literally grown up in a palace. I couldn’t think of anyone less “country.”
Until Jeannie pulled back the curtains.
From behind the curtains, stepped out Sofia. She wore fitted jeans that had a soft wear to them. She had on sturdy little black boots and on top, a loose green flannel that not only brought out her eyes but also flattered her hair. Her long, loose copper blonde hair fell in tantalizing waves over her shoulders, somehow looking brighter and softer against the green. Her skin looked like fresh cream and her blue eyes nearly glowed.
No, she didn’t look like the red carpet diva. She didn’t look like a princess. But she didn’t look like a country girl, either. She never seemed to fit exactly one description. There
was so much to her that she seemed to defy descriptions or labels.
She was just…Sofia.
Jeannie grinned, pleased. “Oh would you look at that, Sofia! You made your man’s jaw drop! Now that’s always a good sign!”
Sofia blushed at Jeannie’s words but looked up at me, a little shyly, as if making sure I was indeed pleased with the look.
Not wanting her to doubt it, I said, “You look…amazing.”
Sofia’s cheeks pinkened beautifully.
Jeannie shoved me out of my reverie by pushing two giant shopping bags brimming with clothes at me. “Do your lady a favor and carry those out for her,” she said, winking at me.
Jeannie grabbed Sofia’s arm and led her out to the front door. “Now you come back in the summer, you hear? We get some lovely summer dresses around that time and I also do the hemming around here so if you see anything, you let me know! I’ll make sure to alter it to your size!”
I thought Sofia would cringe back at the familiar touches like she had in entering the shop but I was surprised to see her pat Jeannie’s arm as she said, “And you let me know if you want anymore make up tips. It would be hard to top the natural beauty that you are,” Jeannie giggled madly like a schoolgirl at the compliment, “but I think that you would look amazing in some chocolate brown eye shadow. Really would give your eyes some beautiful depth.”
That was when it hit me. Sofia had retouched Jeannie’s make up. Jeannie was still wearing her loud blue eye shadow but instead of it looking garish, it somehow had become more subtle and cleaner looking. Sofia had somehow managed to soften the older woman’s face so that she looked as gentle and as sweet as she actually was.
And what a difference it made! Holy shit, make up really was magic.
Jeannie waved us off, thanking Sofia for all her tips and help, saying she couldn’t wait to go show her friends all her new make up tricks.
I took Sofia down the street to Petey’s, the local diner. As soon as we entered, we were bombarded with hellos. It was a small town and everyone knew everyone and if they didn’t know you, they would get to know you.
