She didn’t have long to wait. He and Dak came around the corner of the castle, their steps slowed by fatigue. When Dak saw her standing in the center of the courtyard, he said something to JarDan and stormed off without a backward glance. Drat! Worrying about why Dak hated her was minor compared to the anger that tightened her husband’s features. Features streaked with soot and sweat and clearly visible in the glow of the twin moons at their fullest.
“Was anyone hurt?” She asked softly when he reached her.
Without saying a word, he took her arm in a firm grip and led her into the castle. He didn’t hurt her, but she had no doubt that he didn’t intend to let her go until he was good and ready. Straight through the crowded hall, where exhausted men consumed huge glasses of cool wine, Melodie trailed after JarDan. He didn’t rush her and she knew he had again slowed his pace to fit hers. She wondered if he realized how often he did that without her having to remind him to slow down.
When he pulled her behind him into her bedroom and slammed the door behind them, she felt a small shiver of apprehension skitter down her spine. He won’t hurt me. She didn’t know where that random thought originated, but she didn’t doubt it for a minute. And it took about that minute for her to realize that, maybe, she was mistaken.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m so sorry.” Melodie forced the words past her lips. “I didn’t know …”
JarDan stopped her with a quick flick of his hand. “Not now, Melodie. I’m in no mood to listen to another of your apologies.” With a heavy sigh, he dropped into one of the chairs near the cold fireplace.
“I know you didn’t bring the plants back with any ulterior motive; but you have to understand the danger of your actions. If you had brought the plants back a few days ago they would have developed an interlocking root support system and our efforts tonight would have been useless. As the moonlight fed the first plant, all the others would have fed from it. Tonight, we only had two separate vines. A connected row of vines is unstoppable until the sun rises and suspends its growth.”
“Everyone thinks I did it on purpose, don’t they?” She asked from her position by the window.
“Not everyone.” JarDan answered honestly. “You can’t blame them. You haven’t given them -- or me -- any reason to believe you want only the best for us.”
“I would never do anything to hurt someone else, JarDan.” Melodie wiped at the tears on her face. “All those tapes you played in my sleep chamber didn’t cover everything. How can I know what people here grow up knowing? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do all day. When I do find something I know how to do, someone’s there to tell me I’m doing it wrong -- or that I’m not supposed to be doing it at all.”
“If you’d stop thinking only of yourself, you’d realize that no one, except you, cares if you don’t say the right thing or get a wrinkle in your gown. By the Beard of the Prophet, you’re the Crown Princess of Tor. One day you will be queen. This,” he indicated the room with a sweep of his hand, “is just one room of your home. Not my father’s. Not Tiana’s. They live here as members of the family, but you are mistress of the castle. If you don’t like the way things are done -- change them. Stop sitting around waiting for someone to tell you that you don’t belong here.”
“I don’t belong, don’t you understand?” Melodie’s tears were as much from frustration as the pain that she couldn’t be what he wanted her to be. “I’m a farmer, JarDan. I dig in the dirt and make things grow.”
He raised one dark brow as he leaned against the padded arm of the chair. “Yes, we all got a sample of how well you plant and grow.”
She always got angry when she cried and his mockery broke the fragile hold she had on her temper. “That’s not fair!” She argued, wiping the tears from her face. “I didn’t know the stupid thing would mutate in the middle of the night. It was three inches tall when I planted it. How was I to know it would grow taller than the towers of the castle?”
With her fists balled on her hips, she glared at her husband. He thought she was a wimp, did he? Well, let him get a good dose of her temper for a change. Maybe if she made him mad enough, he’d send her back to Earth.
“Ask someone.” He shot back, his voice harsher than she expected from his relaxed stance.
“Who? You? You’re never around except at dinner. The closest I get to you during the day is to watch you and your warriors playing with your swords in the field.” She waved a hand toward the window. “Or maybe I should ask Tiana. I’m sure she’d be the first one to offer kind advice.” Her sarcastic comments finally triggered a reaction from her husband.
JarDan jerked himself up from the chair. Shoulders back, head tilted in arrogance, chest filled with injured dignity, he was the perfect picture of royal outrage.
“Spend time with you?” He asked softly, grasping her by the shoulders. “I’m only human, Melodie, despite what you may think to the contrary. You’re my wife, but I can’t touch you. I go to sleep at night dreaming about you. I wake up in the morning hard and aching for you. How can I spend time with you and not take you to my bed? You can’t have it both ways. Either you want me or you don’t.” He released her with a gentle shove.
“You think we’re playing? I assure you, love, when the need arises you will be grateful that my warriors played so often with their swords. There’s a maniac trying to kill you along with the rest of my family. Have you forgotten?”
The reminder of her close brush with death took all the fight out of her. What in the world were they arguing about? They were both upset about the destruction of the wall but that wasn’t any reason to strike out at each other.
“No,” she whispered as she dropped into the chair opposite where JarDan stood, “I haven’t forgotten.” He merely stared silently while she searched for a topic that would defuse their tempers -- a topic other than his desire for her. That one she planned to ignore until she had time to think about it more.
“Was anyone hurt tonight?” She desperately wanted to get away from the subject of fighting. JarDan had no idea how she hated to watch them practicing with their weapons. Her heart pounded in fear each time a warrior landed a blow on her husband. Anything could happen when these powerful men attacked each other. They used real weapons, not blunt practice instruments. She lived in constant fear that someone would make a mistake and cause serious injury.
JarDan sighed wearily as he settled in the matching chair beside Melodie. “One of the gardeners, Klyde. A falling stone from the wall broke his leg. There were some minor cuts and a few burns, nothing serious. I’ll have to remember to send someone to Klyde’s home tomorrow. His potatoes are ready to harvest and his wife is heavy with their first child.”
“I’ll arrange that, if you like.” Melodie instantly knew a way to atone for her negligence. She would harvest the crop -- as long as JarDan didn’t find out. Meeting her husband’s cool blue gaze, she never flinched. If he suspected anything she couldn’t tell by his expression.
“As you wish, my lady.” He answered after a long silence. “Now,” he rose stiffly from the chair and headed toward the door, “I think it’s time we retired.”
Melodie gasped and felt the heat of her blush in her cheeks.
Shaking his head, JarDan gave her a sad, weary smile. “Don’t worry, love. I wasn’t inviting myself into your bed, as much as I would like to stay here with you. I’m trying to be patient, Melodie, but it’s getting harder to be around you and not touch you. Make love to you. Be your husband.” He reached for the door handle but turned back to Melodie before he opened the door. “I make my bed in Dak’s room, as I have since we arrived. He and I have a few problems to work out ourselves. Good night.”
The door closed silently behind him and still Melodie sat staring at it. A ripple of unexpected happiness rocked through her. He couldn’t be around her without wanting to make love to her. He was sleeping in Dak’s room. Only now, when she knew the truth, did she admit that she wondered about his sleeping a
rrangements. Too afraid of the truth to voice her concerns, even to herself, she ignored the situation. If she questioned JarDan, he might think she wanted him to sleep with her and she didn’t. Did she? You were jealous. The denial died unspoken.
Suddenly, all the arguments and self-recriminations vanished like the smoke from the fire. She could no longer deny it. She was in love with her husband. He was the most aggravating, arrogant, kind, gentle man she had ever met. Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, he slipped past her defenses and caught her heart unguarded.
Oh, God. Now what am I going to do? The logical answer to that question was unacceptable. If she acknowledged her feelings for JarDan, she would have no chance of getting home. You are home. No! Home is a farm in Missouri. Home is my garden and milking Bessie. Home is … gone … sold to the highest bidder. With a groan of deep, emotional pain, she allowed the grief to consume her. Hard, soul cleansing sobs racked her body as she curled into the comfort of the large chair. Even if she went back to Earth, she had no place to go. JarDan didn’t just save her from a tornado. He saved her from destitution.
Melodie cried until all she had left inside were the troubling thoughts she still had about her husband. So intent was her concentration, trying to sort her jumbled emotions, she didn’t notice when ArDell arrived to help her change. She didn’t even complain when her maid carefully washed the tears, soot and grime from her face and arms before lowering the silky, white gown over her head and tucking her into bed. A bed that was suddenly too big and too cold.
* * * *
“Good morning,” Melodie greeted the kitchen staff with an eager smile. The sun was barely above the horizon and she had something useful to do for the first time since she arrived.
“Princess,” stammered the cook, “we weren’t expecting an inspection this morning. I …”
“No, no.” She rushed to put Phillip’s fears to rest. “I’m not here for that. I’ve got to go out early this morning and wondered if you had a roll or maybe …”
“See, Phillip, I told you it would work.”
Melodie turned to see the beaming face of a young man carrying a huge tray of rolls still hot from the oven. Their yeasty aroma made her stomach growl.
“Oh, those look wonderful.” She exclaimed. “May I have one?”
Instead of answering her, the young man slammed the tray down on the wooden table that served the kitchen staff as a work table and quickly dropped to one knee.
“I beg your pardon, Princess. There is no harm done. It is my free day and I offered to help Phillip with the morning meal.”
Melodie frowned in confusion. This young man, barely more than a boy, was acting like he was doing something he shouldn’t.
“Please stand up. I hate talking to the top of someone’s head.”
She waited until the lad did as she requested before indicating the chairs beside the massive hearth. “Why don’t we sit? Now,” she breathed deeply, her mouth watering at the aroma of fresh bread, “what harm have you not done?” She smiled warmly, hoping to help the lad relax.
“Princess,” interrupted Phillip, “he …”
“He can answer for himself and I’m sure you’re very busy with breakfast preparation.”
With a deep bow the cook turned his back on the pair sitting quietly beside the cold fireplace. Melodie didn’t say anything, just waited until the young man was ready to explain.
“I’m a MedTech.”
After several silent seconds, Melodie realized his harshly whispered statement was all he was going to say. This was getting stranger by the minute. There was something familiar about the young man, but she couldn’t quite remember. Of course, with all the people who constantly moved through the castle there was no wonder that she didn’t know his name.
“Okay. What’s your name?” Maybe that would give her a little hint.
The young man jumped up from the chair and stood at attention, his eyes straight ahead. “I am MedTech Thomas of the Travel Craft Destiny. I will await Prince JarDan’s punishment in my quarters. By your leave, Lady.”
“Wait!” Melodie grabbed the retreating Thomas. He couldn’t make a statement like that and just walk away. Why would JarDan punish him? Thomas? Not the Thomas who escorted her to JarDan’s room her first night on the spaceship? He looked so different from the young man she remembered in his grey flight suit. He looked much younger in the soft white uniform of the kitchen staff.
“Please sit down, Thomas. I also hate looking up at anyone.” She thought for a moment that he was going to argue with her but with a militant expression on his face, he perched on the edge of the chair -- still at attention. “Now, why would JarDan punish you?”
Melodie almost laughed at the expression on his face. He obviously thought she was born stupid and got more ignorant as she got older.
“Because I am a MedTech and not a Cook.”
His tone clearly questioned her ability to understand the spoken word. Well, she obviously didn’t understand but she didn’t say anything. She just continued to stare at Thomas with what she hoped was the same look her grandfather gave her when he knew there was more to the story than she was willing to tell.
Rolling his eyes in a typical gesture of his age, Thomas relaxed against the back of the chair. “Princess, the members of my family have been MedTechs for centuries just as Phillip’s have been cooks. A man’s ancestors decide his occupation. You cannot change tradition.”
“Are you telling me that you’ll get in trouble for helping in the kitchen because your great-great-great-great-great-grandfather wasn’t a cook?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What a ridiculous custom.
When Thomas merely nodded in agreement, Melodie turned her attention to Phillip. “Is this true?” She knew the older man was listening to every word.
“Yes, Princess,” he agreed sadly, “he speaks the truth. It is sad when one such as Thomas, born with a natural instinct for creating masterpieces for the palate, is trapped by tradition in an occupation where he will be merely … average.”
“I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous. If he wants to be a cook, then he should be a cook.”
“It isn’t so simple.” Phillip shrugged with resignation. “Only a royal command can change a vocation. I have never known of one person who has succeeded.”
“I’m the Crown Princess. Can I issue a royal command?” She looked from one man to the other. The older face skeptical, the younger alive with sudden hope.
“I don’t know … it has never been done … yes, a Crown Princess would have that power … maybe we should seek advice …”
Melodie stopped Phillip’s rambling with a wave of her hand. “If you want him in the kitchen, and he wants to be a cook, then consider it a done deal.”
“Thank you, Princess!” Thomas yelled, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her around the kitchen. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your generosity.”
Melodie’s laughter filled the kitchen, winning the hearts and loyalty of at least two of the castle staff. “You can start by putting me down.”
A fresh round of giggles erupted when the young man dropped her like a hot rock, guilt and embarrassment flooding her face with bright color.
“Please forgive my forwardness. I didn’t think . . .”
“Enough.” She whispered softly. “I haven’t had so much fun in a long time.”
When Thomas escorted her to the table with all the elegance of a trained knight, Melodie watched Phillip’s preparations for her breakfast.
If you see something you don’t like, then change it. JarDan probably referred to the drapes or something, but he should be more specific in his instructions. Her first royal decision made her feel great.
A plate of warm rolls and butter and a large glass of fresh milk was a perfect breakfast. Phillip knew she didn’t care for the sweetened wine or strong tea that he normally served with breakfast. Melodie insisted the two men join her and within minutes, no one remembered that s
he was a princess and they were members of her staff. A discussion of the light, fluffy sweet rolls soon turned to a description of a typically American meal.
“What I miss more than anything is a big juicy hamburger with all the trimmings and fries, drowning in ketchup.” Melodie sighed with pleasure at the memories of backyard barbeques with her grandfather.
“I have never heard of this ham-burger. What is it?”
The way Phillip said the word made her think he had something nasty in his mouth. “It’s a grilled patty of ground beef on a roll, topped with lettuce, tomato slices, pickles, onions and spicy mustard. A truly perfect burger patty is still pink in the middle and so moist that juice runs down your chin when you take a bite.” She sighed and closed her eyes, almost tasting the smoky flavor of the grilled meat. “Heavenly when served with huge mounds of French fried potatoes.”
“Humph. Doesn’t sound like something the King would enjoy.”
Phillip’s statement took the wind out of her sails. Pushing the memories back where they belonged, Melodie finished her breakfast. She had a big job to do and the sooner she started the sooner she’d be finished. Brushing the crumbs from her lap, she wished she still had her jeans. Although she wore this gown for all her gardening, she knew it would be so much quicker and comfortable with pants.
Phillip and Thomas stood when she did, their courtesy as natural as breathing to them. That was when she noticed Thomas’ clothes.
“Thomas, how tall are you?” She closed the distance between them until she could look him in the eye.
“Six feet, Princess. Why do you ask?”
His confused expression became almost comic when she giggled and reached up and hugged his neck.
The Men of Anderas I: Jardan, the King Page 13
