The Princess Read online

  “You—” She coughed.

  “Don’t talk, honey, just rest. Get all the water out and I’ll take you home.” He began to rock her.

  “You”—cough, cough—“may”—cough, cough.

  “Yes, love? You can thank me later. Let’s get you into dry clothes for right now. How about some hot fish soup?” His voice was deep and loving.

  The girl seemed to want desperately to say something so J.T. allowed her to move back a few inches so she could look at him.

  He pulled her back into his arms, cradling her as if she were the most precious object on earth. “It’s all right, baby. No one will try to hurt you again.”

  She struggled against him and he let her pull away again as he smiled at her indulgently.

  Again he was struck with the sheer prettiness of her. Not beautiful in a modern sense but in an old-fashioned way. Her small features and perfectly shaped head made her look as if she had stepped out of an old photograph. She reminded him of the ladies in the fairy-tale books his mother read to him as a child. She was a damsel in distress and he was her rescuer. Warmth flooded him.

  He kept his hands lightly at her back in a protective way. “All right, honey, what is it you want to say?” he said caressingly.

  Trying to talk made her cough again but he waited patiently, his eyes filled with tenderness while she made the effort to gain control.

  “You may not”—cough, cough—“touch me”—cough, cough—“I am”—cough, cough—“royalty.”

  By the time she finished, her back was ramrod stiff.

  It took J.T. a moment to comprehend what she had said. He stared at her stupidly.

  “I am a royal princess and you”—she looked down her nose at his bare chest—“may not touch me.”

  “I’ll be damned,” J.T. breathed, and dropped his hands from her back. Never in his life had he felt such betrayal. He was on his feet in seconds, leaving her sitting. “You ungrateful little—” he began, then stopped. His jaw hardened and his eyes glittered like blue fire as he looked at her before turning away and leaving her where she was. “Find your own breakfast, Princess,” he muttered, and stalked away from her.

  Chapter Two

  ARIA sat where she was on the beach. Her head hurt, her lungs hurt, her legs ached, and what she most wanted to do was lie down on the beach and cry. But a royal princess must never cry. A princess must never show anyone what she is feeling. To the outside world she must always smile even when she is in pain. She had been taught these things until they were second nature to her.

  Once when she was a little girl, she had fallen from her pony and broken her arm. Even though she was only eight years old, she didn’t cry, but stood, holding her arm close to her body, and went inside to her mother. Neither her groom nor her governess knew that she was in pain. Later, after her arm had been set—through which ordeal Aria shed not one tear—her mother had congratulated her.

  Now here she sat in a strange country after having had to fight for her life all night and the man who had rescued her was behaving very oddly. She glanced toward the tangle of trees and wondered when he was going to return with that fish stew he had promised. Of course she would have to insist that he clothe himself. Mama had told her never to allow a man to appear before her unclothed, whether he was a servant, a husband, or a native of some strange island.

  There was a single palm tree a few feet down the beach and she slowly rose and started walking toward it. Her head swam with the effort and her legs were weak from exertion, but she pulled herself up as stiff as possible and began to walk—no slouching or staggering for someone of the blood royal. A princess is always a princess, Mama had said, no matter where she is or how people around her are behaving. She must remain a princess and let others know of their status or else they’ll take advantage.

  Take advantage, Aria thought, such as that man did this morning. The names he had called her! She willed her cheeks not to blush in memory. And the way he had touched her! No one, ever, in all her life had touched her like that. Didn’t he understand that he wasn’t supposed to touch a royal princess?

  She sat down under the tree in the shade. She wanted to lean against the trunk and rest but she didn’t dare. She would probably fall asleep and it wouldn’t do for that man to see her sleeping when he returned with her meal.

  Instead, she sat up straight and looked out at the ocean and, without willing them to, the events of the last twenty-four hours came back to her.

  This past night had been the worst of her life, perhaps the worst night of anyone’s life. Three days ago she had left her country of Lanconia for the first time in her life. She was to be the guest of the American government, and while the officials were talking to her ministers, the Americans planned to take Aria on a round of official engagements. Her grandfather the king had explained that their hospitality was merely an effort to persuade him to sell Lanconia’s vanadium but he thought Aria might benefit from the experience.

  There had been a long, tiring journey on trains then an army plane that had hastily been outfitted with antique chairs and brocade that was taped to the walls. Some of the tape came unstuck but Aria did not let the Americans know that she saw. Later she planned to laugh about it with her sister.

  The Americans had treated her well if a bit strangely. One minute someone would bow to her and the next minute some man would take her elbow and say, “Watch your step, honey.”

  They landed in a place called Miami and immediately she was led to a small plane that was to take them to the southernmost tip of America, Key West. Here Aria was to be escorted about the big naval base and see where ships that had been injured in the war were repaired. Unfortunately, her two-week itinerary was full of visits to naval bases and army hospitals and luncheons with dowager societies. She wished that one afternoon could have included a gallop on a good horse but there didn’t seem to be any time. Grandpapa had said the Americans wanted to impress upon her the need their country had for the vanadium and they didn’t think that parties with handsome young men were likely to do that.

  Straight off the plane Aria was greeted with a red carpet, and several overweight ladies wearing dresses of pastel chiffon—dresses that were indecently short—and carrying heavy bouquets of flowers. Aria accepted the flowers, smiling even though her feet were killing her and the heat of Key West made her feel light-headed. Three times she had to stifle a yawn as she handed the flowers to her lady-in-waiting who handed them to an American officer who handed them to an enlisted man who handed them to the chauffeur who put them in the trunk of a long black limousine.

  Aria was escorted to a room in a building on the naval base that made her gasp. It looked as if the Americans had scoured the island for every piece of gilt furniture they could find and had put it all in the room. The hastily built, plain building with its purely functional rooms looked incongruous with the carnivallike carved, gilt furniture.

  Aria gave her lady-in-waiting a quelling look lest the woman offend the Americans, but she was afraid the room would give her nightmares. There was an hour for her two dressers to ready her for a banquet.

  At the banquet, she sat at a long table set on a dais surrounded by generals and town officials wearing suits smelling of mothballs. Every one of them had to give a speech and Aria tried not to show her sleepiness. She was also hungry but could not eat because the Americans had allowed photographers into the room for the entire meal. Royalty could not be photographed while ingesting food. So she sat, her plate taken away barely touched.

  By the time she got back to her room, her long black heavy dress was weighing her down and she knew that even though it was midnight she had to be up at six A.M. for breakfast with a politician, then at seven she was to see something called a gyro compass laboratory.

  Standing in the middle of the room, waiting for her dresser to come and remove her dress, waiting for her maid to draw her bath, in those few minutes when she was alone, someone threw something heavy over her head and carr