Sheesh! Don’t tell me that I have to rub two sticks together? she foolishly asked herself, but of course, she got no smart answer. So she retrieved two pieces of wood, sat with a grunt and a curse and proceeded to do just that, rub two sticks together.
I guess my temporary existence isn’t going to be a story book romance, at least not right away, she grumbled to herself.
Zoë heard laughter and looked up to see the prince holding a bloody rabbit. Her stomach revolted immediately no matter how hungry she felt; no way was she going to eat the cute little furry creature. How could he? And why was he laughing at her? She nearly broke a fingernail and her palms were becoming sore. Crap! She could’ve at least have wakened in a more modern time. Oh, grand…just grand! Well, she was in no mood to be made sport of, so tossing the sticks aside, she stood.
“Look here, Bert!” she demurred, “I know nothing about starting fires without a match or lighter!” Eyeing the dead thing she had a sneaking suspicion that she was about to ask to cook it also. “And I will not skin that poor little creature, even if I knew how. Where I come from my meat is all prepared and frozen until I can pop it into a micro-wave.” The look in his eyes would have frozen fire. Oh, oh!
Albert eyed her dubiously, and then added a scowl. “Hell’s bells! The name is
Prince Albert!” he said with just the right touch of condescension. “I do nae know what ye a jawing about but I will let yer insolence past this time for I fear ye have been put under a spell. Sit, I will skin the animal and start the fire.”
After an appropriate silence, she amended, “Very well, whatever. I um… mean, suit yourself.” But with difficulty, she bit back a scalding reply and watched him retrieve a bag from his belt, strike a small rock against a piece of flint a few times before the dry leaves caught fire. Damn, he could have given her that before he left. Well, so much for her Prince Charming. Maybe men haven’t changed so much!
“All you men are the same,” she grumbled. Dammit, even in her own fantasies she cannot conjure up a perfect hero. Well, the thrill was nice while it lasted but she’s a modern gal and this ancient male chauvinist was not going to talk down to her. Humph! But she decided that she’d be better off to stay put and out of his way, so she sat on a rock and bit her tongue.
She watched Prince Albert wiped the bloody knife in the dirt and start at the fire. Try as she might, Zoë couldn’t figure out all that happened to her. She must have sat for awhile before the smell of something cooking snapped her out of her confused musings. Her stomach rumbled and that furry little creature no longer looked uneatable. She was not one to cut off her nose for spite, so she swallowed her pride and sat next to the prince.
“Mmmm, it does smell good,” she exclaimed in a neutral voice, trying to sound as if she didn’t appreciate him cooking a meal. And drat, if he didn’t smile making his eyes twinkle in the firelight. He was so handsome and his eyes were so blue they reminded her of robin’s eggs. Long black lashes that any girl would envy him, as she did, fanned his high cheekbone.
And, to make matters worse, he dimpled in both cheeks. A strong jaw, told her that he wouldn’t give up easily on anything he set his mind to, and right now he was set on taking her somewhere. His hair was the color of sand and it was shoulder length. Her palms itched to run her fingers though his locks and to her dismay her hunger had tuned to another direction.
Gratefully, Zoë’s thoughts were interrupted by a deep grunt and a stern command. “Here, eat!” Prince Albert handed her a leg. She looked at it for many minutes fearing to swallow anything but it smelled delicious. Taking a deep breath she nibbled then swallowed. It slid down easily and she regained her confidence in herself but continued to take little bites not chancing another bout of choking. Thankfully, she finished the meat without any difficulty.
Sincerely, she said, “Thank you.”
“Ye are welcome, Snowy.”
“Sheesh!” To that she snorted. “Look let’s get one think straight!” she stiffened defensively. “The name is Zoë! Z-O-Ë! Forget what those little men called me, my name is Zoë White. No connection to the real Snow White, follow, Bert. Err… I mean Albert?”
“Ye will address me as Prince Albert, Yer Highness, or Milord and I shall call ye whatever makes ye happy.”
Her brow rose and she answered in a patronizing tone, “Okay, milord,” and she curtsied.
“Sarcasm is nae becoming, Mistress White,” he bit back, his eyes gleamed with intent as his arms crossed his massive chest. Arrogance was in every line on his body; a body that she wanted to touch. God, she couldn’t have thoughts like that, especially if he was only a figment of her imagination. Well, if she were in coma and had to conjure up a male, she had to be pleased with herself, for her imagination was working overtime. But be that as it may, he was still a jerk.
“Look here, Albert, I’ll not be talk to as if I’m a child.” She began walking away calling him every name she learned by the age of six. He may be handsome but she’d not put up with his chauvinistic ways, no siree bob!
When Albert had gone into the woods his aim was swift and on the mark and his dagger landed in the rabbit’s furry hide. He was happy with his catch and hurried back to his princess not wanting to spend much time away from her. He knew he had fallen in love with the maiden at first sight and he wanted to be with her every moment for the rest of his life.
Upon entering the camp, he had stopped short in his tracks upon seeing her sitting on the hard ground struggling with two sticks. She wore a pout on her lips and he wasn’t too sure but had she muttered a few unladylike blasphemies? Shocked momentarily, he had to chuckle for she looked so charming even though she was surely losing her temper. She was like no other female he had ever encountered and he could just hear his manservant now. God’s blood, Prince Albert what were ye thinking? At that moment he was thinking that there was nay denying her beauty. Her large brown eyes, porcelain skin, lips like cherry juice and just as sweet. Hair black as midnight and it smelled like a bouquet of fresh flowers. When she had sat before him he ached to make love to her. Oh, she was a mystery all right for she didn’t act like a princess. Perhaps, she was a mere servant; but it mattered not, he loved her and he would be patient with her.
He was not comfortable with her lack of regard for his title, but he had to let it slide, for now. There would be plenty of time later for him to demand the proper respect he deserved. Now, he had to gain her love and he felt that that was not going to be easy; besides, he saw no harm in his future lady-wife calling him by his Christian name.
Albert let out a frustrated sigh before he went after her. Swinging Zoë around, their eyes locked and an electric tension filled the air. He wanted to say what was on his mind but stifled all that was pent up inside. He was experiencing a painful condition that could only be relieved by making love to the stubborn woman. Although, he had taken many maidens in the fields, this female was no ordinary woman, and if he wanted her respect, he had better show her a little also. He dropped his hand, missing the warm contact of her flesh immediately.
He inhaled deeply and said, “I am sorry, Sno… err… Zoë. “Please forgive my bad manners. I’m not use to a young lady with so much spirit. Nor disrespect. He was wise enough to keep that thought to himself. “The young women of my kingdom are somewhat docile. And then he added, “Ye may call me Albert, if ye wish.”
What he left unsaid was that he liked her spunk and he also like the way her eyes sparkled with flecks of gold whenever she got angry. The way her sensuous lips pouted and her bosom puffed up with indignation. Now he had to wonder who was under a spell, because she had certainly weaved some magic over him.
Zoë knew women were docile, of that she was sure and although tempted to comment, she said nothing being that he had apologized. Besides, his hand on her arm had caused her flesh to erupt with goose bumps. Zoë felt ashamed for losing her temper and owed the prince an apology also. She had always prided herself on not having a short fuse but this man seemed t
o bring out the worse in her, pushed all the right buttons.
Don’t be so hard on yourself girl, it’s not every day you wake up in another body,
back in another time. Be cool, you owe him nothing. Remember…You are woman! Let him hear you roar!
Was her conscience right? It didn’t matter because he walked away before she could utter a word. Shrugging, she watched the prince unsaddle the horse and place the blanket on the ground. He must have seen the confusion etched on her face because he informed her that they were spending the night here.
“Sorry, Mistress White but this is the best accommodations I can offer.”
Her shrug was his answer. She would show him that she was not some fragile maiden. In fact, her parents had taken her camping many times and although she slept on a cot, she was no stranger to sleeping in the woods.
She smiled. “Thank you, this will do fine,” but fine was not something she’d admit to the next morning. Her back and sides were bruised by the tiny rock she was forced to sleep on. And sitting on a saddle all day was no help either, her ass was sore, and her back was stiff from trying not to lean against the prince. She was undecided what ached the most, her bottom or her heart, for there was some kind of an attraction to the man. He may be a pain in her butt, literally, but she could fall for him, hook, line, and sinker. But what purpose could it serve? He was only a figment of her imagination.
By God, he smelled and felt so real!
Chapter Six
Her lids fluttered open. Disoriented, Zoë had forgotten her whereabouts. A smiling face was a hair breath from her face and it smelled like the out doors. A hand lovingly brushed back a strand of hair from her cheek and she wasn’t coherent enough to appreciate the tenderness of the action. Suddenly, the bright sun and fresh air brought back the memory of her situation. There was no denying that she had been sitting on a horse, her sore butt was proof enough of that! She groaned, feeling as if she had been thrown in a blender and put back together all wrong.
“Morning tide, Mistress White,” came the cheerful greeting. She groaned and sat up giving the prince a look that could melt the ice off a witch’s tit. “Are we back to that!” she snapped. She would’ve loved to stay with her belief that she was in a coma but a new day brought a new realization…things are sometimes what they seem.
If the prince looked offended or confused he didn’t show it.
“Please stop calling me that! Where I come from we’re not so formal. Call me Zoë.” Sheesh, why did her Prince Charming have to be so pigheaded? She let out her breath in along drawn-out hiss. It annoyed her when once again Albert opted to ignore her sour disposition and asked, “Are ye hungry?”
“No,” she said, but her lie was detected when her stomach growled to betray her.
He chuckled. “Ye are hungry,” he smirked.
His laughter only galled her more but she wasn’t even given the time to respond because the prince grabbed her hand and pulled her off the hard ground. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved to be up or not, for her body seemed to creak from the movement. But hell, she’d be the last one to admit to the fact that she was sore all over.
But that might be a mistake, her inner voice needled; you might be giving up on the chance for a nice back rub. Zoë merely rolled her eyes at her own silly notions.
She let herself be pulled behind the prince for a shot time before she tugged at him and told him that she was capable of walking without being dragged. Even though she hadn’t had a cup of coffee to jump start her heart and her eyes were still crusted with sleep, she could manage to walk without his help. Besides, the sight of his nice tight ass was very disturbing to her. And to make matters worse, she had to pee something awful.
“We will pick berries over yonder,” he pointed after releasing her hand. She had a moment of complete emptiness for a heartbeat before she nodded. Get a grip girl, she scolded herself. When her emotions returned, somewhat to her normal state, it finally struck her that the air was filled with the aroma of fragrant flowers, sweet honeysuckle and scents she had never smelled before. Even the sky was bluer and the birds chirped as insects buzzed lackadaisically in the warm breeze. It was a picture perfect day, too beautiful to be true, but then, nothing seemed true to life, and real. Well, when in Rome… She might as well be content and stay in her dreamland.
“I’ll go over by that big tree,” she informed not making eye contact, knowing it would make a perfect place to empty her bladder. He nodded, and went in the opposite direction. Surely, he had to have the same notion in mind.
Zoë ate blueberries until her hunger had been satisfied and she licked her ink blue fingers assuming that her mouth was the same color.
“There’re delicious,” she admitted, noticing that the prince’s grin matched her fingers; his lips were just as blue. She suppressed a smile and asked, “How long before we reach your kingdom?”
Albert studied his hands for a moment, then stood and stretched. “Two more days, if we are lucky,” he informed her.
She frowned wondering what he meant by that, especially being in a fantasy land, anything was possible. Her mind conjured up dragons and griffins, who knew what else. But instead of appeasing her curiosity, she asked, “Are we to sleep under the stars again?”
“Nay, there is an Inn that we will stay in this evening tide.”
Thank goodness the day was uneventful and the prince found a cool brook to wash up in and spend a short time to eat the little creature he had killed. She knew this time it wasn’t a rabbit, but like she had read, everything tasted like chicken and so did this, so she didn’t dare ask, or cared.
Before dawn they gazed down from a hill and she saw a cozy Inn snuggled between oak trees in the valley, which didn’t surprise her in the least; everything here was quaint. The cottage was made of spotless white stones and gingham curtains fluttered out the open windows. Colorful flowers grew in abundance along the pebbled pathway. For all she knew it could’ve been the cute little house that Hansel and Gretel thought would be a safe haven. Now you’re making you imagination run amok, scolded that little voice in her head.
The prince led his horse down the hill and she was looking forward to a nice bath and comfortable bed, not to mention lotion for her inner thighs. They were as chafed as when she wore those damn jeans that were too tight on a cold day in the middle of January ice skating for hours. How pathetic was she? Sheesh, she just had to show off in front of those college boys, hadn’t she!
Albert dismounted and helped her down. Luckily he held onto her because her legs were liquefied and she stumbled into his arms. His hands around her waist branded her and she sucked in a breath never feeling such a magical attraction. Their bodies were so close that her heart beat erotically in her chest. Zoë stared at his sensual mouth wondering, no, hoping he’d kiss her.
Sheesh, gimme a break, she grumbled to herself, and he only smiled and led her up the stone walk. This time, she let him hold her hands because she was finding it quite difficult walking on her two left feet. Before he opened the door, she knew that the innkeepers would be a sweet little old couple and she was right.
You have to congratulate yourself girl, your imagination is flawless.
The couple introduced themselves as Clive and Olive; the man was thin and the wife was fat reminding Zoë of the nursery rhyme, Jack Sprat.
“We need two rooms for the night,” declared Albert laying a silver coin on the bar.
Clive frowned and said, “Sorry, but we have only one available room to rent.”
“No, problemo!” piped up Zoë seeing the prince ponder over the dilemma. “One room will be fine,” she smiled and loped her hand around his arm feeling his muscle tighten. She had to restrain her facial muscles to keep from laughing at his bemused expression. Any male from her era would jump at the chance to stay in the same room but the prince’s complexion seemed to wan quite a bit. She was being a mite forward she knew but hell, she was a modern girl, not a shy maiden and besides, this was her f
antasy. He can’t be a prude; he was a man wasn’t he? And no matter what century, men were men.
“Will the lady be needing a bath sent up to the room?” inquired Olive.
“Oh, that would be swell,” she declared, reframing from clapping and jumping up and down like a two year old. She knew she smelled from lack of a deodorant, and horse, and dirt. It then dawned on her that the prince didn’t smell offensive at all. To her he smelled like the forest, fresh air, and himself. She had to admit, to his credit, he still held her close as they rode on his steed. Maybe there was hope for her knight because he was a gentleman in some ways.
Zoë soaked in the crude tub but someone had the presence of mind to put rose water in for her. What a delight after traveling without the luxury of modern convinces. She lay back and had to laugh at her thoughts, her mind’s eye saw the papa bear lecturing the baby bear about using too much toilet paper in the woods. If these people only new what was in store for the future. But since they had no idea of what they were missing it didn’t matter to them, but it did to her. Then she muddled over her predicament and it still made no sense, no rational explanation was possible except that she was in some sort of suspended state. What ever this was, she decided that it was better than her former life, her boring former life. And her existence as she had known it no longer interested her.
Albert was stunned and speechless at Zoë’s suggestion before but he wasn’t going to argue the point, not in front of the innkeepers. He would have to have a talk with the young woman once they were in the room. As much as he wanted to sleep with her, and the opportunity was handed to him on a silver platter, she had to act like a respected lady around decent folks. But seeing that Clive and Olive did not raise an eyebrow, he figured that they were not naïve when it came to couples renting a room. He had asked Zoë not to mention that he was a prince so he took his leave and explained that he needed to tend to his horse. He wanted give her time to relax and take her bath in privacy.
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