No Ordinary Princess

by Pamela Morsi

  "You're seriously concerned about Muna?"

  Princess nodded. "Yes, I doubt if Maloof has ever kissed her, and I don't think it's good to give him such an idea."

  "They are engaged to be married," Gerald pointed out. "Please don't tell me you disapprove of a couple kissing. It's something we seem to be so good at."

  As if to prove his point, he brushed his lips once more against hers.

  Princess giggled as she felt the blush sweep into her cheeks. "Oh, you silly,” she said. "I just ... I just don't want Muna to marry that fellow."

  "You disapprove of Maloof?"

  "No, no, I don't disapprove of him," she insisted. "It's just that Muna deserves better."

  "You don't like him," Gerald said.

  "No, it's not that either. In fact I do rather like him. He seems very sweet, but he doesn't love Muna," she said.

  "How do you know that?"

  "Her father arranged the marriage," Princess told him. "He wanted Maloof for a business partner, so he just brought him into the family."

  Gerald made a sound that was noncommittal.

  "Muna is going to have to live with a future devoid of love. He's only marrying her to improve himself financially," she explained.

  Beside her she felt Gerald stiffen.

  "You're shocked," she said. "I was, too, when I heard it. I know that it's not uncommon for foreign­ers, but I just find that kind of thing despicable."

  "Perhaps we are too hard on him," Gerald said evenly.

  "Oh, I don't think so," Princess assured him. "Believe me I've seen these greedy fortune-hunter types. A man would have to be lower than dirt to do such a thing. Luring a woman into a marriage devoid of love."

  "Cessy, we have no idea what led him to this pass," Gerald pointed out. "He, also, is choosing to forego love. Maybe there are extenuating circum­stances."

  "You mean an excuse," she said unkindly.

  "I mean that people sometimes do things for reasons they would rather not," he said. "Surely my heroine of social justice believes that."

  Princess considered his words.

  "Well, of course, he is a stranger here and it's a great advantage to immigrants to have established family connections," she said.

  Gerald nodded as Princess continued thoughtfully. "And I understand from Muna that the situation under the Ottoman Empire is very difficult for the Christians of western Syria. With the stagnant eco­nomic conditions and religious prejudice, a younger son with any ambition is almost forced to seek his fortune on foreign soil."

  "He seems to genuinely care for Muna," Gerald said quietly.

  Princess nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is so. And her parents approve of him completely. I don't be­lieve they would ever deliberately do anything to risk her happiness."

  Gerald pulled her into an embrace. "That is one of the things that I truly love about you, Cessy," he said. "You are always fair and empathetic, even when you don't wish to be."

  She looked up into the handsome eyes of the man she loved. "And that is one of the things that I love about you," she said. "That you would take the side of this man as if he were your closest friend, when he can't even remember your name."

  "My name?"

  "Didn't you hear him back there," she said. "He called you Tom."

  "Tom? I ... ah ... I guess I didn't notice," he said.

  "I can only wonder where he got that," she said.

  Gerald shrugged and gave a rather boisterous laugh. "Well, he . . . what is it he says, T speck Inglush no good,'" he mimicked.

  She giggled. "Oh, you sound just like him," she said with delight.

  He pulled her deeply into his arms. "But I am not at all like him," he said. "Because when I am given a chance to be alone with my sweetheart, nobody will have to remind me that it might be a good opportuni­ty to steal a kiss."

  His firm, warm mouth came down upon her own, not with teasing brevity like before, but with serious romantic intent. Princess parted her lips to give him full access to whatever sweetness he sought there. With the delicate touch of his tongue he made a sensitive trace of her lips that brought a soft moan from deep inside her.

  The sound seemed to entice him. He ran his hand along the length of her back, pressing her bosom into the hardness of his chest. She loved the feeling of it. Her breasts were tight, the nipples taut. The bodily contact made that worse, and yet somehow oh-so-much better.

  He broke the contact of their mouths only to press his lips a dozen times against the length of her jaw and the sensitive skin at her throat.

  "I love you, Cessy," he whispered into her ear. "Have I told you yet that I love you?"

  The breathy warmth of the welcome words sent shivers of delight down her flesh.

  "Oh, Gerald, I love you, too," she answered.

  He pulled away slightly to look down at her. "You really do, don't you," he said. "You really do love me."

  "Was there ever any doubt about it?" she asked.

  "Then say you will marry me, Cessy," he said. "Here, in this very special place, today, say that you will marry me."

  She swallowed with difficulty and looked up into his eyes. All her life she knew that she'd waited for this moment.

  Momentarily the dream image was in her mind. She, in the white dress and upon her father's arm, walked down the church aisle toward the man she loved, toward this man. A man to whom her commitment was total. It was the sanctification of an earthly love that symbolized the union of mankind with its creator.

  "If that is what you want, Gerald,” she said. "Then it is what I want, too. Yes, Gerald Crane, I will marry you."

  Chapter 10

  Tom nearly shouted in triumph at Cessy's answer. He had begun to feel almost desperate to win her. If he slipped up and revealed himself as Tom, or if Cal­houn found him out, everything would be for noth­ing. Cessy might love him, but she would surely turn from him if the truth became known. Her obvious distaste for the financial motives of Maloof had made him genuinely uneasy. Tom had had schemes fall through before, but somehow this one had taken on a life of its own. Maloof already knew he was Tom. All the men at the "P" did as well. Topknot and Burford Corners might be two places, but even together they were far too small for a man to maintain separate identities for long.

  He couldn't, wouldn't give it up. Gerald Crane was going to marry Princess Calhoun, and Tom Walker was going to disappear. He was determined. Cessy was exactly perfect, he'd decided. She was kind and caring and he even found her bossy ways rather intriguing. She loved him and believed him to be wonderful. That made the million dollars almost a bonus.

  "I want it to be soon," he said, voicing his plans aloud as he made them. "I can't wait forever, Cessy. And I already feel that this last week has been the longest in my life. I want to marry soon and I want it secret."

  "Secret?" Cessy was startled at the suggestion.

  "I think it would be best, don't you," he told her. "If we notify my family or even tell your father, then most certainly there will be a huge wedding party that might take months to plan."

  "Well, surely it wouldn't be that big," she hedged.

  "Your father's Fourth of July picnic is an extrava­ganza," Tom pointed out. "How much bigger cele­bration is he going to want for his only daughter's wedding."

  "Yes, you are probably right," she admitted.

  "And my family!" Tom rolled his eyes deliberately. "They'd arrive in an entire trainload of private cars. If they allowed us to be wed out here at all."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why, the Cranes are always married in Saint Andrew's, right in the heart of Bedlington. I can almost read those insistent telegrams now."

  "Oh!" Cessy sounded genuinely alarmed. "I would not want to travel back East to wed."

  "Nor I," he assured her. "But if they know in advance, they will almost certainly ask us to do so. And it would not be good to start our marriage disappointing them."

  "No," she agreed. "That really wouldn't be good."

  "
But," Tom went on, "if we could find a nice, private place that suited us and a discreet preacher, we could be husband and wife and completely settled in our ways before anyone has time to come up with any party plans for us."

  Princess was thoughtful for a long moment. He could almost see her mentally giving up any dreams she'd probably had for a big church wedding with all her friends and family there to share it. Tom hated to deny her that, but he couldn't risk it. Too many truths were bound to come out. He couldn't have that happen before they were legally man and wife.

  "I know exactly," she said suddenly. "I know exactly the place and the person to marry us."

  Tom was momentarily surprised at her easy capitu­lation.

  "He is the sweetest man and he is so caring," she said. "He's given his whole life to helping the less fortunate."

  "Can he be trusted?" Tom asked.

  "Absolutely," Cessy assured him and giggled joy­ously. "And he always says that he owes me more favors than he can ever repay. I'll tell him that I am collecting."

  "So how soon can we say T do'?" Tom asked.

  "Anytime that we want, I'd think," she answered. "The place is not far from here. We could stop by on the way home and see when it is convenient."

  "Today would be very convenient for me," Tom said.

  Cessy's eyes widened. "Today?"

  "It would be perfect, Cessy," he coaxed her. "We could marry this afternoon. Maloof and Muna could stand up with us. We'd be man and wife, at last."

  "Today?" She spoke the word almost breathlessly.

  Tom pulled her into his arms once more. "Today, Cessy, we could be married," he said planting a gentle kiss upon her brow. Then he nuzzled her neck and whispered in her ear. "And tonight we could be man and wife."

  "Oh! Oh, yes," she agreed as he began laying a path of kisses from her jaw to her throat.

  Tom heard her sigh with pleasure and pushed his advantage. He brought his mouth to her own once more and laid her back against the surface of the rock. Covering her soft, warm body with his own, he wedged one thigh between her own, opening her legs as easily as he'd opened her heart. She eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck, lovingly sifting her fingers through his hair and caressing his shoulders.

  He was hard now and pressed himself commandingly against the soft juncture of her thighs as he whispered sweet promises.

  "Cessy, I can show you such pleasure," he declared as he lustily rocked his pelvis against her. "Pleasure like you've never dreamed."

  She moaned a low, hot sound in her throat that was infinitely enticing.

  "Knowing that you love me is all the pleasure I can imagine," she replied.

  It was barely an hour later that they gathered up all of their picnic paraphernalia and loaded the surrey.

  Maloof and Muna were both stunned into silence at their impromptu announcement. Neither seemed particularly approving, but Tom was grateful that they said little. And Cessy seemed too starry-eyed to notice.

  It was all going to work out perfectly, he assured himself. He would be a good, loyal, and faithful husband to his plain little bride. She would never, by any word or deed, ever suspect that he did not love her passionately.

  Actually, passion was to be no problem at all. Cessy Calhoun was hotter than a Cuban chili pepper, and the two of them were so physically well-suited that breaking off their impromptu engagement cele­bration on the big river rock had been difficult.

  Clearly, he would be acquiring a worthy bed partner as well as a loving, giving wife and a million-dollar fortune. It was all that a man could ask. Tom didn't truly believe in love, he assured himself. It was just all a mix of romance and passion. His Cessy, he vowed silently to himself, would never be stinted by him on either.

  He helped her into the front seat and then, taking up the reins, seated himself beside her.

  "Where is this wonderful wedding spot that I will hold fondly in my memories forever as the place where all my dreams came true?"

  Cessy giggled beside him and wrapped her arm around his own, laying her head fondly against his shoulder.

  "It's right up this road, only about three miles," she said.

  Tom felt his heart still.

  "That close is it?" he said, deliberately trying to make his voice calm as the blood pounded through his veins in fearful anxiety.

  "It's a lovely place," she said. "I've wanted to take you out there and introduce you. And what a won­derful opportunity to do so."

  "It's some kind of a church?" he asked.

  "There's a little church there," Cessy answered. "That's where we'll be wed. But the place is a school, an orphanage really, where young Indian boys who have no other place to go are given love and care and education and shelter."

  "Oh?"

  "It's the Methodist Indian Home and it's really my favorite charity. There is this wonderful kind old man, Reverend McAfee. He's devoted his whole life to being a father to the fatherless."

  She continued to talk, but Tom didn't hear any­more. His stomach was rolling like he'd eaten some­thing rotten. It was all going to blow up in his face. He was so close, so very close, and it was all going to blow up in his face.

  He wanted to scream and curse the heavens. What uncanny twist of fate would introduce Cessy, his Cessy, to Reverend McAfee?

  Desperately Tom tried to puzzle out what to do. He could call a halt to the horses right now and claim a remembered errand in town. But what possible kind of errand could distract a man on the way to take his wedding vows? Snidery, he thought he was perhaps not the first man to seek such a distraction.

  Perhaps he could simply brazen it out. When the old man pointed an accusing finger at him and declared him an imposter, he could simply deny it. People found ways to believe what they wanted to believe, often in complete contradiction to all evi­dence. Cessy would be the same. She loved him and she would take his part, willing enough to assume that poor old Reverend McAfee had lost his mind.

  Tom relaxed slightly, his natural optimism re­bounding. And Tom had certainly changed a lot in the last eight years. The old man very well might not even recognize him. He was the only father that Tom had ever known. But the good teacher had undoubt­edly raised several dozen young boys from infancy. There was certainly no reason why he would remem­ber one nameless, part-breed orphan.

  He had almost convinced himself when they came to the top of the hill. The only real home he had ever had was in sight. It was changed, irrevocably changed. Large new buildings dotted the grounds and the trees and shrubs were mightily grown. It was all changed and yet the same as it had ever been. It was as familiar to him as the face in his shaving mirror.

  The wide-spreading black walnut had a child's swing hanging from every long limb. The brown rock building stones shone clean and new with the dili­gent labor of a dozen pairs of young strong hands. The outbuildings gleamed with fresh whitewash, the color relieved only by the occasional twisting vine of morning glories or four-o'clocks. It was beautiful, homey, welcoming. It had been, Tom thought, a prison. And he had been grateful that he had finally made his escape.

  He forced himself to remain calm as he drove the team beneath the entrance gate. The arched sign above it read, as it always had , METHODIST INDIAN HOME : Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

  The least of these my brethren. That was Tom, of course. One evening as he was pretending to be Captain Rourke O'Donnell, Union spy, behind Con­federate lines, he'd overheard Reverend McAfee de­scribing him to the visiting bishop.

  "Young Tom is an unfortunate little fellow, illegiti­mate and of mixed race. He was undoubtedly des­tined for a life of dissipation and drunkenness. Because of his sojourn here with us, he is learning an honest trade and we have every hope that he will be a contributing member of the community rather than a blight upon it."

  The words were a revelation. He knew at long last who he actually was. An illegitimate, mixed-race unfortunate who by birth was destined for the
dregs of existence.

  But that was not going to happen to him. Today, he made sure that any chance of that happening would be stifled forever.

  The boys, the young students of the school, were everywhere. To Tom's eyes it appeared there were closer to three dozen than the twenty-some-odd that had lived here when he did. They were spread out among the grounds, each by himself, none speaking to another. It was "quiet time." Tom remembered the Sunday afternoon ritual distinctly. The longest hour in the week. One in which it was expected for a boy to be alone with his own thoughts. Tom's thoughts had, as often as not, driven him to make another run for the world outside.

  Beside him Cessy was still chattering. Her words seemed more intended for Muna and Maloof than for himself. And those two were as silent as he was. She was nervous, Tom assumed. But he was so personally shaken, he was hardly in condition to reassure her.

  It wasn't until he had unerringly driven up to the front of Reverend McAfee's cabin that he reminded himself that Gerald would not know which building to enter. He had to be careful, he reminded himself. He still had to be very careful. It would serve no purpose to fool Reverend McAfee and then give the truth away himself.

  Tom set the brake on the surrey and jumped to the ground to help Muna and Cessy.

  Muna appeared suspicious and concerned, clearly worried about the unexpected outcome of the day. Cessy was falsely bright and overcheerful.

  "I have a friend in the oil business who is really nearing the age to retire," she was saying. "I keep bringing him out here and talking with him. This would be a great place for a couple to spend the later years of their lives. And it would be so wonderful to have a man about who could teach the boys about machinery and modern technology."

  "Yes, I suppose so," Tom agreed.

  "Reverend McAfee is a clergyman and a scholar. Beyond that he knows only a little about farming and tending horses. The young men who show no great aptitude for schooling must either be trained as farm hands or for working in a livery stable."

  Tom nodded, stifling the surge of feeling that swept all around him.

  "There are always jobs for livery hands and cotton pickers," he said.