And she liked everything she saw—in spite of his apparent amusement, he was interested enough to pull the reptile book over to his side of the table and study it—except his determination to marry her regardless of whether she liked it.
"Hello, Your Royal Majesty."
Chloe turned in her chair and saw the adorable little red-haired girl, whose arms overflowed with a bright-eyed black spaniel puppy. About halfway down into a curtsy, she lost her balance and the puppy scrambled free.
"You speak English," Chloe said with surprise.
"Little bit, Your Majesty," her mother said from the doorway. She smiled shyly and executed a perfect curtsy.
At least it was perfect by royal standards. By Chloe's, it was the silliest she'd seen yet. It made her wonder which had come first—curtsying or genuflecting? And had it been out of respect or to serve some egomaniac?
Chloe waved the mother forward, and she in turn sent her daughter chasing after the puppy until she caught it. "She wanted...to speak to you, so...I teach her...little bit. You understand?"
Chloe smiled. "Yes, I understand you fine. What's your name?"
"I am Hilda. My daughter is Anna."
"Hey, Anna, let me see your puppy," Chloe said, and when she got it, she let it wriggle on her lap and lick her chin.
Anna giggled by Chloe's knee.
Hilda frowned, wrung her hands and fidgeted from one foot to the other. "You are not afraid, Your Majesty?"
"No, of course not. Why would I be?"
"I know you are afraid of dogs."
I am?
Moira had been afraid of Friday. Now that Chloe thought about it, she'd never seen Moira pet a dog in the entire time she'd known her. "This is just a pup, Hilda. And besides, I like dogs."
"Her Majesty was very attached to her friend's dog in the United States," William related, "and it was quite a nasty thing."
Chloe couldn't believe he'd noticed. "Friday?"
"That disagreeable animal growled at me the entire time it was in my car."
"Oh." Chloe remembered telling Emma she'd hoped Friday didn't bite William's trousers, and prayed she wasn't blushing now at the thought. She hadn't given a fig for his suit. It was what was in the suit that she'd liked then. And still did.
William crooked his index finger, and Anna shyly moved to his side. Her shyness disappeared when he showed her the picture of the lizard and spoke to her in her own language. She leaned on his chair and looked up as he pointed at the tree it had climbed.
Already twenty-eight, Chloe knew she wanted children someday. She'd never gone so far as to picture her future babies, but suddenly she saw raven-haired, lapis-eyed children toddling around on the cobblestone floor, chasing a lizard. William would help them catch it, and she would show them how to identify it, then release it. Might as well put all that education to use somewhere.
If only he could love her, not feel obligated to marry her because he'd promised her father he'd protect her.
"Come, Anna," Hilda said. "I go work now."
"Do you work here, Hilda?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, in the kitchen. Anna is good." Hilda sounded as though she were trying to reassure her queen. "No trouble."
"Does she come with you every day?"
"No! Today only. My sister sick today."
Chloe figured mat meant no babysitter. "Let her stay in the atrium and play awhile. The puppy can't hurt anything in here."
Hilda looked uncertain.
"I'll have Humphrey bring her to you when I finish my breakfast."
Hilda frowned at the unfinished food on Chloe's plate. "You no like?"
With a wave of her hand at the table, Chloe indicated the books lying open there. "I saw a lizard."
"You afraid of lizard?"
Chloe laughed. "No, I wanted to see what kind it is."
Hilda looked quite skeptical that anyone would pass up a good hot breakfast for pictures in a book. Anna spoke, and her mother translated, her eyes beaming now. "Anna wants to know when you get married."
"Oh..."
"Soon," William answered over his coffee cup. "Very soon."
Hilda's nervousness disappeared, and she became quite animated. "The wedding...will be so beautiful. All the womans know it is better when you marry. Our children...will go school. To school. Our husbands...will work to fix roads."
Chloe was confused, and not by Hilda's halting English. "They can do that if I don't marry."
"No, you must marry His Majesty."
"Yes," he agreed with an amused grin, "you must."
Chloe kicked him under the table, but since she'd kicked off her shoes and was in her sock feet, he didn't even acknowledge it.
"His Majesty...will make Ennsway much better place to live. And he...will have more farmland. Ennsway farmland is good. Is good dowry."
Chloe looked at William and got a creepy feeling in the pit of her stomach. "You want to marry me for farmland?" She was glad she hadn't eaten much breakfast. "My father signed me away like...like a bushel of corn?"
Hilda continued as if Chloe's accusation had gone over her head, which it probably had. "Your Majesty, please, I ask question?" she asked William.
"Yes, Hilda." He seemed quite unruffled by Chloe's rising temper.
"Is true, you put man in dungeon to protect Her Majesty?"
Chloe glared at him. "You didn't!"
Hilda, beaming, clasped her hands together over her heart. "So romantic!"
"Yes, I did, Hilda." Through his smile, he muttered, "Thank you very much."
"That's barbaric," Chloe snapped.
He shrugged.
"It's archaic!"
Hilda frowned and fidgeted from one foot to the other, then apparently decided the atrium was not the place to be at the moment. "Anna, come!" She grabbed her daughter and the puppy and left Their Majesties to duke it out.
"Excuse me, but this is the twenty-first century," Chloe pointed out to William. "You can't have me because you signed a piece of paper, and you can't throw men in the dungeon because...because... Why did you?"
"He was responsible for your mare once she was saddled. He left his post."
Chloe slammed a book shut. "I'd hate to think what you'd do with a man if he actually committed a crime."
"I rather like the old way, myself. If a man steals, cut off his hand."
Only the twinkle in his eyes gave him away, or Chloe would have taken off for the United States without waiting for a plane. "I want to see him."
"Why?"
"A dungeon is cold and damp and filled with torture things."
He shrugged. "Maybe not so damp."
* * *
Outside the atrium, Prince Louis intercepted Hilda, Anna, and the puppy. "What the devil is that dog doing in the castle?"
Hilda urged Anna to keep moving toward the kitchen, and she carefully kept herself between the child and Louis.
"Dogs have not been allowed in Ennsway for more than fifteen years, by His Majesty's orders." King Albert's law had not been strictly enforced for quite some time, especially on the smaller breeds. "Certainly not in the castle."
"Her Majesty, she ask to see it."
"Never!"
"Is true, Your Highness. You ask her."
"Stop right there."
Hilda stopped as ordered, but at a quiet word from her mother, Anna disappeared around the nearest corner and hugged her puppy tightly.
"Her Majesty asked to see that puppy?"
Hilda nodded vigorously. "Yes."
"She wasn't afraid of it?"
"No."
"Not even the teensiest bit frightened?"
Hilda shook her head and repeated Chloe's explanation. "Is only a puppy."
Louis smoothed his beard with his fingers. "Hmm, yes, so it was. Very interesting." And without dismissing Hilda, he walked away, deep in thought. "Very interesting, indeed."
* * *
At Baesland Castle, the limo crossed the moat bridge and drew to a stop at the inner gatehou
se. William quickly motioned the driver away and held out his own hand to help Moira out of the car. For a moment, he thought she would refuse his assistance, but then she slipped her fingers into his palm, and he nearly forgot they were there to inspect the dungeon.
He had better places he would like to inspect with her. Like his bedroom. He had been a guest at her castle for a week. He had dined with her, ridden over the hills with her, pretended to read the newspaper in the same room with her. He had held her chair, inhaled hints of the exotic coconut perfume she favored and nearly gone out of his mind wanting her.
Out of respect for the recent loss of her father, he had been a perfect gentleman. Well, he was done with that; he would take a chance.
"You are sure you want to see the dungeon?"
She tilted her head up at him and, with a sly smile, asked, "Is there some reason you don't want me to?"
"You have never visited my apartment." He hoped his grin was not a leer.
"Do you keep prisoners there, too?"
"No, Moira, I do not."
"Women who have refused to marry you, perhaps?"
Momentarily beaten, he sighed and motioned for her to follow him through a low doorway and down the narrow, winding steps to the dungeon. He would have let her precede him, but it was not the best footing for a lady. Even if the lady wore running shoes and jeans.
The dimly lit area smelled musty, he noted with some dismay. Not that that was a bad thing in a dungeon, but she would undoubtedly hold it against him.
What he really wanted her to hold against him was herself. If he could get her in and out of the dungeon, then off somewhere alone, perhaps he could restore the camaraderie they had shared over breakfast in the atrium.
If he had known she liked lizards and such, he would have taken it upon himself to get her outdoors more often. He would have suggested a walk instead of a ride, and he would have been able to hold her hand.
She had spent two hours poring over books on native trees and plants. Perhaps she would like the view from the mountaintop that soared another mile above Baesland Castle. He would have the driver take them there. Her nose wrinkled. "It's filthy."
He glanced around at the rough-cut floors and walls, the low ceiling which made him stoop. "It is a dungeon." And she had only seen the outer chamber.
"Where is he?"
William turned to the man who had been unlucky enough to draw guard duty today. "Her Majesty would like to see the prisoner."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
William followed him through another short, narrow doorway to the torture chamber. The most prominent apparatus in the room was the Roman rack in the center. He dared not turn and see Moira's reaction. He did not want to see the loathing in her eyes.
It was only a few short steps to the row of cells. To himself, William swore that this dungeon used to be larger than it appeared now; he would never admit to Moira that it had been too long since he'd seen it. She lingered a moment by the rack, then followed him, and her critical presence made him aware that centuries of little use had done nothing to eliminate an underlying pervasion of body odors.
"It smells worse than a pig farm in July."
Idly he wondered when she had ever set foot within fifty miles of a pig farm. In any month.
Three poorly lit cells backed up against the outer wall. The prisoner slumped on the floor, his back against the side bars of the middle cell.
"It's wet."
"Most dungeons are damp."
"Damp? I can hear water trickling in."
"It is the moat."
The prisoner jumped to his feet, bumped his head on the ceiling with a solid thunk and ducked, his hand pressed to the top of his head
"Are they treating you well?" Moira asked him.
"Yes, ma'am."
She looked doubtful.
"I think Her Majesty wants to know if we have subjected you to any torture devices," William hinted.
The prisoner looked suitably shocked. "Oh, no, ma'am. Just the low ceiling."
"What is your name?" -
"Patrick, Your Majesty."
Moira pivoted in a slow circle, taking in her surroundings. While she did that, William blessed the low lighting that prevented her seeing all, and cursed the low lighting that equally prevented him enjoying her full circle. She had a delightful body, kept in athletic shape from the riding she did and the exercise routine he suspected she still practiced each day. Though he was beginning to doubt he would ever see her in that cropped sweatshirt again until after they were wed.
She turned up her nose and squared off with William. "When is his trial?"
"I am still looking into the matter of your accident."
"So you do think it was an accident!"
"I was being sarcastic."
Patrick still rubbed his head where he had bumped it. "I admit I left my post, Your Majesty," he said to Moira. "It was only for a minute to help your secretary, but I did it, and it was wrong. But I would never harm you, ma'am, you must believe me."
"Silence!" his guard hissed.
"I have family in Ennsway. Uncles and cousins and such. They want our countries united as much as we do here in Baesland."
The guard tore a club from the wall and rapped on the bars of the cell in warning.
"Stop that," Moira snapped at him.
William was caught in a quandary. Did he side with his man-at-arms and tell Patrick to shut the hell up or did he side with Moira, be compassionate, and earn points?
"William, make him stop."
Well, it would never do if he publicly gave in to that. Even if he wanted to.
Softly, Moira added, "Please."
A nod of his head, and the guard backed off.
"We all want the wedding soon, ma'am, so as to benefit everyone in both countries. New farm equipment, fresh food, new jobs, education—all of my family wants this, and so do I. We've been preparing for the event since we heard His Majesty asked for your hand."
William thought the man sounded like a walking advertisement, which, under other circumstances, would have been an admirable thing.
"Let him go," Moira ordered.
"You cannot believe he meant you no harm."
"He sounds sincere."
"Yes." William turned and addressed Patrick, "Remind me to recommend you to the theater guild when you are released."
In a hundred years.
"Well?" Moira tapped her toe on the stone floor. It made little noise, but William did not miss her meaning.
He faced her again and waited. If this was the only way he was going to get to see any of her passion, he was not about to miss a second of it.
"I could never marry a man who keeps another in such deplorable conditions."
He sighed. "Guard, release the prisoner."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The guard fumbled for the proper key. Moira headed for the exit.
William lingered behind, knowing he could not let this excuse for a man go free. Moira's life might mean nothing to her, but he could riot bear the thought of any harm coming to her.
As an aside, he whispered to the guard, "Lock him in the tower instead."
* * *
William paced his dressing room. "Damn it, Leonard, if I keep on at this rate, the three months are going to be up. I thought Her Majesty would at least like to pick her wedding date."
"Does she know she has a deadline?"
He raked his fingers through his hair, aware that it was becoming a most annoying habit. "You mean, has she read the contract? Probably backward and forward, looking for a loophole." He glanced in the full-length mirror. "Am I so repulsive?"
"If the constant marriage proposals that come in your mail are any indication, I think not."
He turned sideways and checked his reflection to see whether he had developed a gut overnight. "There, see, I keep in shape."
"Of course you do."
"I dress well."
"Most definitely."
"I am
also kind to small children."
Speaking of small children brought the red-haired Anna to mind, the way she had tried to hold on to her puppy while she curtsied to them in the atrium, the musical lilt of her giggles as she'd stood at Moira's knee. Moira had been patient with her, entranced by her, generous in her offer to let her stay and play while her mother worked. A most unusual queen. She would make a wonderful mother to his children.
If he ever got that close.
He wanted children, not just because he needed an heir, but because he liked them and they were the future. He wanted half a dozen, but he could compromise one way or the other, depending on what Moira wanted.
"I do not wish to wait until the deadline, Leonard."
"They have been working day and night on Her Majesty's gown. Everyone in Baesland and Ennsway is ready to pull together at a moment's notice. I daresay you could have the wedding soon."
"Then I shall tell her today that we will wait no longer."
Leonard's face fell in dismay, but he quickly resumed his perpetual unruffled mask. "Might I make a suggestion, Your Majesty?"
His secretary was not a yes-man, and so William nodded for him to proceed, though he thought he was about to get a repeat of Leonard's earlier advice.
"Perhaps if you would...romance Her Majesty?"
William folded his arms across his chest and waited for him to continue.
"Women, sir, if I may say so, do not take kindly to being bulldozed into matters such as these."
"Bulldozed? I have been most patient with her."
"You are a king, used to getting your way, if I might say so, sir. She is a queen, used to getting her way. Women sometimes need a gentle hand. Soft music. Candlelight. Flowers."
William renewed his pacing. "I have never done this before." He had never had to. Women lined up outside his door, both marriageable ones and ones with marriage-minded daughters. Others proposed by mail. Last time he had danced at Buckingham Palace, he had had half a dozen propositions whispered in his ear before ten o'clock. "I would not know how."
"Welcome to the real world," Leonard mumbled.
"What?'?
"I said, women make it a confusing world, Your Majesty."
"I have learned how to please a woman, how to sidestep a woman, but...romance one? How do I do this?"
Princess In Denim Page 13
