The Princess Read online

  “Don’t touch that!”

  Her hand came away and she turned to glare up at him. He was on the rise of land above the beach. “Are you following me?”

  He had his military rifle with him and he dropped it, butt down on the ground. “You say your country has vanadium?”

  “A great deal of it.” She bent again to touch the balloon.

  “That’s a man of war,” he said quickly, “and on the bottom are tentacles that can sting. The pain often kills people.”

  “Oh,” she said, straightening and starting back down the beach. “You may leave me now.”

  He followed her. “Leave you to get yourself killed? You have a propensity for getting into trouble. I don’t want you on the beach. Those two jokers who tried to kill you before might come back.”

  “Perhaps your navy will send ships looking for me.”

  They were at the palm tree now and he sat down, leaning his rifle against the tree. “I’ve just thought about it and I figure it’s my duty to protect you—or at least to protect the vanadium you own. You’ll have to come back to the clearing.”

  The edge of the beach disappeared into water. “No thank you, Lieutenant Montgomery. I would rather sit here and watch for ships.” She sat down on the edge of the beach, her back straight, her hands in her lap.

  J.T. leaned against the palm tree. “Suits me, just don’t get out of my sight. We have three more long days here and I plan to deliver you to the U.S. government safe and sound. When you get tired of eating your pride, let me know. I got blue crabs at the camp.”

  Aria ignored him as he lay down and appeared to be dozing. The sun was hot and her stomach was growling with hunger. She imagined spring lamb and green beans with thyme. The sun flashed off the water but there was no sign of any sailing vessel.

  Before her, swimming lazily in the water, was a large fish. She remembered how the man had speared a fish and cooked it over an open fire. It was the last meal she had had, so very many hours ago. She thought maybe she could make a fire, but how did one catch a fish?

  She looked back at the man and saw he was sleeping. A foot from him rested his rifle. Rifles were something she understood since she had hunted game since she was a child.

  Quietly, so as not to wake him, she climbed up the bank and had her hand on the rifle before he grabbed her wrist.

  “What are you planning to do with that? Get rid of me?”

  “I was going to catch a fish.”

  He blinked a couple of times before he grinned. “What? Use a rifle as a fishing pole? Bullets for bait?”

  “I have never met a man more absurd than you. I am planning to shoot a fish.”

  He grinned broader. “Shoot a fish. With an M-1 rifle? Lady, you couldn’t even fire the thing, much less hit anything with it. The recoil would knock you flat.”

  “Oh?” she said, and raised the rifle, drew back the bolt to check if it were loaded, and before he could speak, she had tossed it to her shoulder, aimed, and fired. “Another bullet,” she said, stretching out her hand to him.

  Speechless, J.T. put one of the long M-1 cartridges in her hand.

  She loaded again, but this time she swung the rifle overhead, aiming at a flock of ducks. She fired and a duck fell a few feet out into the ocean. She put the rifle down and turned to look at him.

  J.T. walked past her, down the bank, and stepped into the water. He picked up a large red snapper, the tip of its head blown cleanly off. Turning, he walked a few more feet out and retrieved a duck, its head missing.

  “Princesses can do some things,” Aria said, turning on her heel and starting down the path toward camp. “You may serve them to me for luncheon.”

  He caught up with her, the rifle slung at his back. He pulled her arms up and dumped the duck and fish into them. “You eat what you kill and you clean it. You’re going to learn that I’m not your servant if I have to beat it into you.”

  She smiled at him. “Men are always angry when I outshoot them. Tell me, Lieutenant Montgomery, can you ride a horse?”

  “I can dress myself and I’m not starving. Now go to the camp and start plucking feathers. And this time you finish the job.”

  * * *

  “I hate him now,” Aria said as she pulled out a duck feather. “I hate him tomorrow.” She plucked another feather. “I hate him yesterday.”

  “You haven’t finished that yet?”

  Aria jumped. “You must announce your presence.”

  “I did.” He looked at her bare arms. “Do you realize that you’re sitting in the sun again?”

  “I will sit where I please.”

  J.T. shrugged, bent over the crabs, and began to clean them.

  “I hate him for always,” Aria said under her breath. “I think this is complete,” she said, standing; then, to her consternation, the land began to twirl about her.

  When she woke, she was lying in the hammock, Lieutenant Montgomery looming over her with a frown on his face.

  “Damned dame,” he muttered, then louder, he said as he glowered at her, “you’re too hot in that damned dress, you’re sunburned, and you’re hungry.” He turned away, muttering to himself, “I ought to get a Silver Star after this.”

  Aria did feel awful, and as she looked at her arms, she saw the pinkening flesh. In minutes he returned with a metal plate full of fish and crab. She had some difficulty trying to sit up in the hammock, so after a few more mumbled curses, Lieutenant Montgomery set the plate of food down, bent, and picked her up in his arms.

  “You cannot be allowed to do this,” she gasped, sitting rigid in his arms.

  He set her down on the wooden crate and shoved the food into her lap. “I could have brought three kids with me and they would have been less trouble than you.” When she didn’t start eating, he groaned and handed her his knife. “Aren’t the words ‘thank you’ in your vocabulary?”

  Aria ignored him but began to eat. It was difficult to remember her manners and not eat with the gusto she felt. She sat absolutely rigid, daintily picking up the knife, eating one bite, and putting the knife down. The man huddled over the fire, doing things to the spitted duck.

  Before she had finished the crab, he dumped a quarter of the roasted duck on her plate. It took her a few moments to figure out how to do it, but by using the knife and the tip of one finger to hold the meat, she managed to eat all of it.

  The man seemed surprised when he saw her empty plate but she gave him a look that dared him to say anything.

  “Now we get you out of those clothes.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “You fainted, remember? Florida is too hot to wear that many clothes. I’ll unbutton you then you go into the trees and remove your underwear. Don’t look at me like that; if I wanted a woman it would be one with a little meat on her and one with a sweeter temper.” He turned her around and unfastened the back of her dress then pointed her toward the trees.

  As Aria went into the trees she kept her head high. She knew he was right, she couldn’t continue fainting, but right had nothing to do with his ordering her about.

  She removed her dress then stood and looked down at her layers of underwear. She removed her petticoat first, which she had had to roll up at the waist to keep from showing below her abruptly shortened skirt. The silk camisole came off next and that left her with a pink satin corset laced in tightly over a girdle, underpants, and hose.

  She could not reach the laces of the corset, twist and turn as she might. She put her dress back on, picked up her slip and camisole, and left the trees.

  He took one quick look at her and said, “Not enough off.”

  “I will not—”

  He turned her around, opened her dress at the back and cut away the fasteners on her corset. He pointed toward the trees.

  Aria removed the rest of her undergarments and felt heavenly. The tight, restricting girdle, which left marks on her skin, came off, and the removal of her hosiery allowed her skin to breathe. When she put her dres