The Princess

by Jude Deveraux

  “Not if I’m eating ice cream all day,” Aria whispered defiantly as she left him. In bed she looked at pictures in the movie magazines and tried to decide how she wanted her hair cut.

  * * *

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Dolly Frazier said, leaning against the headboard of the bed.

  “Dolly, I don’t like my wife using such language.” Bill stayed snuggled under the covers, refusing to sit up.

  “And I don’t like my husband keeping such secrets from me.”

  Bill turned over to face her. “I thought the whole thing was J.T.’s business. Heaven help the married man who thinks he can keep a secret.”

  “A princess. A real princess right here in Key West and I met her. Do you realize that someday she’ll be a queen? And if J.T. stays married to her, maybe he’ll be king. I would know a king and a queen.”

  Bill turned back again. “J.T. doesn’t want to be king. You know his background. He’s got more money than ninety percent of the kings of this world. He married the princess to give her a cover and to teach her to be an American. As soon as everything is set up in Lanconia, he takes her back there and the marriage is annulled.”

  “Teaching her to be an American, ha! Did you see that stack of history books? And the way he made her wait on him! I think the two of them didn’t get along too well on that island and J.T.’s still mad at her.”

  “He says she’s a nuisance, that she’s been waited on all her life and expects everything to be done for her. She’d never even dressed herself and he says she expects him to walk two paces behind her.”

  “I didn’t see anything like that.”

  “She was arrested for shoplifting in D.C. Didn’t know she had to pay for things, and he says she hands out hundred-dollar bills to porters.”

  “So what did he do, make her learn to count money?”

  “Of course,” Bill said, bewildered. “What else was he supposed to do?”

  “Take her shopping. That’s the only way to learn about money.”

  “He took her shopping in Miami. Spent a bundle. Dolly, baby, could we get some sleep now?”

  “Sure. I was just thinking, though. What if J.T. fell in love with her? Then he wouldn’t want to leave her and he’d stay and be king.”

  “I’m not sure an American can be king.”

  “Of course he can. If he’s married to the queen, then he’s king. I wonder if Ethel would open her beauty parlor on Sunday? I think I’ll call right now and ask her.”

  “Dolly, it’s two o’clock in the morning,” Bill said, but Dolly was already out of bed.

  “She won’t mind. We’ll make the princess so beautiful J.T. won’t be able to resist her. By the time they get to Lanconia he’ll face a firing squad before giving her up.”

  Bill groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “What have I done?”

  Chapter Nine

  GET up,” J.T. said. “This morning you’re going to learn to cook my breakfast.”

  Reluctantly, Aria opened her eyes. J.T., fully dressed in his tan uniform, was standing on the far side of the room and yelling at her as if she were in the next state. She stretched. “What time is it?”

  “Breakfast time. Now get up.”

  “Are you always so loud this early?” She lay back against the pillows. “At home my maid brought a pot of tea to me every morning in bed. It was always served in the Lily set of china. Such a peaceful way to start the day.”

  J.T. didn’t say a word, so Aria turned to look at him. He was watching her with a strange expression on his face and she began to blush as her eyes met his.

  “Get up,” he repeated, then turned on his heel and went down the stairs.

  Smiling to herself, Aria took her time dressing in a silk shantung suit, hoping it was all right for an ice cream parlor visit.

  J.T. was sitting in the living room reading a newspaper. “You took long enough.” He stood and went into the kitchen.

  “This is a skillet. These are eggs. This is butter—or it’s what we have instead of butter during a war. Put the butter in the skillet, drop in the eggs. Damn! I forgot the bacon. Get it out of the fridge.”

  “Fridge?”

  He pushed past her and opened the refrigerator. “This is bacon. You’ll have to learn to cook it, and before long you’ll have to learn to go to the grocery and buy it. Get another skillet out of the bottom of the stove and put the bacon in it.”

  Aria opened a door and a drawer before finding a second pan like the egg pan but there was nowhere to set it. The top of the stove was covered with an egg carton, a loaf of bread, a pan from last night, eggshells, and odd-looking shiny metal utensils. She thought she could make room by moving the handle of the egg pan.

  The hot handle seared her palm and she moved away quickly but she didn’t say a word.

  “Have you got that bacon in there yet?”

  She tried using only her left hand to remove the bacon but it was difficult. Pain was shooting through her body.

  “Can’t stand to touch it?” J.T. asked angrily. “Here, use both hands.”

  He grabbed her right hand and Aria gave a slight intake of breath that made J.T. stop and look at her white face. He turned her hand over to look at it. The skin was beginning to blister. He slapped margarine onto her palm.

  “You burned yourself that bad and didn’t say a word?”

  She didn’t answer but was grateful for the cooling relief of the grease.

  “Hell,” he said in exasperation. “Stand over there and watch.” He finished cooking his breakfast while muttering things about Aria being useless. Then, as he put his food on the table, he again cursed because he realized Aria had no breakfast. While his grew cold, he cooked her bacon and eggs.

  At last, they both sat down to eat in absolute silence.

  How unpleasant this place is, Aria thought. How different from breakfast at home with her grandfather and sister. She smiled as she thought of how she would entertain them with stories from last night. Her grandfather would laugh loudly at the absurdity of the Americans.

  “Care to share that with me?” J.T. asked.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “You were smiling and I wondered why. I need something to cheer me up.”

  “Actually, I was thinking of how I’d describe last night to my grandfather.”

  “And?”

  She looked at her breakfast, a bit repulsed by the greasiness of it. “I don’t think you’d like it. They are your friends.”

  J.T.’s eyes narrowed. “I want to know how you’d describe my friends to your royal family.”

  He said the words with such a sneer that Aria didn’t care what he thought. Her grandfather often said that commoners had no sense of humor, that they took themselves very seriously and were always concerned about their dignity.

  Aria’s face immediately changed expression as she opened her mouth a bit, shifted her head to one side, and began to look somewhat dazed. “Bonnie, where’s the ketchup?” she said in a deep voice that conveyed the idea of a little boy lost. “Bonnie, I need some tomato. Bonnie, where’s the mayonnaise? Bonnie, didn’t you bring an apple pie? You know how I like apple pie.”

  J.T.’s eyes widened. “That’s Larry. Dolly said he’d starve to death if Bonnie weren’t around.”

  Aria’s face changed again; this time she made her eyelashes flutter rapidly. “I just loved that red dress. Here you are, honey. Of course red isn’t usually my color. It’s right there, honey. But I did wear red as a child. You don’t think my hair’s grown too dark for red? To your right, honey. But maybe I’m getting too fat for red. Here it is, honey. I have put on some weight since I got married. You want a slice of onion, honey?”

  J.T. began to smile. “Larry’s wife, Bonnie.”

  Aria smiled and resumed eating.

  “What about Patty?” J.T. asked after a moment.

  Aria’s eyes sparkled as she put down her fork. She stood, turned her back to J.T., then perfectly imitated Patty
’s walk, an odd walk with her knees together, her feet flat, not bending, and her arms bent at the elbow, her hands stuck out like chicken wings. “Carl, I do believe I shall have a lamp like this,” Aria said in a high, singsong voice. “It gives out the most wondrous color. So good for one’s skin.”

  Aria stopped and looked back at J.T. He was beginning to laugh, and Aria thought how good it was to have an audience again. She had always been able to mimic people and her grandfather and sister had begged her for her performances after every official engagement. Of course she had only performed for her closest relatives.

  She performed for J.T. with all the gusto she had used at home. She went over each of their visitors of the night before and ended with a full parody of all of them talking at once. According to Aria’s portrayal, the men were lazy, a little dumb, and as helpless as infants. The women handed them food and utensils, catered to them and pacified them as if they were large children, all the while talking a mile a minute about clothes, money, hairdos, money, cooking, money, and money. Yet her portrayals were never spiteful, and somehow made the people seem quite lovable.

  J.T. was laughing hard when she finished.

  Who would have thought, she wondered, that the American male had a sense of humor?

  “We’re that bad?” he asked, smiling at her.

  “Mmm,” was all Aria answered.

  He was still smiling. “Come on and I’ll show you how to wash dishes. You’re going to love this little task.”

  For the first time ever he didn’t snip at her as he showed her how to fill the sink with water and add the liquid soap. “Now you stick your hands inside and start washing.”

  Aria started to obey but he caught her wrists.

  “I forgot about your burned hand.” He held her wrists and looked at her for quite some time before releasing her. “I’ll wash, you dry. Tell me something about your country,” he said as he handed her the first clean dish.

  Aria began to enjoy the task as she told him about her country, about the mountains and the cool night air.

  “A lot different from Key West, isn’t it?”

  “From what I’ve seen, yes,” she said. “But the flowers here are very pretty.”

  “Maybe we can go sightseeing.”

  The word made Aria shudder. Sightseeing was what they had done in Washington, D.C.—that day he had pulled her in and out of a car, the day he had screamed at her for drinking a Coke.

  J.T. saw her shudder and looked back at the sink full of dishes. “Maybe it could be a bit more pleasant this time. Look, I need to go to the base. You have anything to read today?”

  “I have the history books.”

  “Yeah, well…” he stammered.

  “Dolly said she was taking me to an ice cream parlor at eleven.”

  “Good, then you won’t be here alone.” He let the water out and dried his hands. “I better go.” He went upstairs and returned a moment later with a handful of papers. “Have you seen my briefcase?”

  “Here it is, honey,” she said, mocking Bonnie’s answers to Larry.

  J.T. laughed as he walked forward to take it from her. “See you tonight, baby,” he said, then caught himself. He smiled. “I mean, Your Royal Highness.” He left the house.

  Aria leaned against the door and smiled. “I think I like ‘baby’ better,” she said.

  Dolly arrived exactly at eleven. “Is that what you wear to an ice cream parlor? You look like Merle Oberon.”

  “I have nothing else. It isn’t suitable?”

  “If you were meeting a grand duke, it would be great.” Dolly was watching Aria’s eyes. “Come on, we’ll go to Gail’s first and see what we can scare up for you to wear. J.T. already go to the base?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, maybe we can fix that. I have a surprise for you today. The others aren’t meeting us until three.”

  Aria had no idea what Dolly had planned but she followed her out the door.

  * * *

  J.T. looked at the stack of papers on his desk. There were new plans for changing a ship into a water distillation plant, other plans for installing English radar in an American ship, and other plans for something else under those. He rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept well last night, not after Her Royal Highness had sat down on the edge of his bed wearing some exotic scent and two thin layers of silk. And this morning he had watched her awhile before waking her.

  He had a job to do, he told himself. He was to teach her to be an American and then get rid of her. That meant no involvement with her personally—and definitely not physically. But there were times when all he could remember was the time on the island when he had stepped around the path and seen her standing nude in the pool. She wasn’t built bad for a princess. Hell! Who was he kidding, she wasn’t built bad for Miss America.

  But staying away from her had been easy so far. She was so damned haughty, so cold and inhuman. But this morning she had thawed a little. He smiled at the memory of her imitation of Patty’s walk.

  What a strange person she was, he thought. So helpless but at the same time so fearless. Why hadn’t she said a word when she had burned her hand? And the eggs he had cooked! He seemed to remember now that eggs didn’t take as long as bacon to cook but he had put the eggs on, then the bacon, and taken them out at the same time. They were awful but she had eaten them just the same.

  “J.T., you still here?”

  J.T. was on his feet instantly and saluting smartly to Commander Davis. “Yes sir, I’m still here.”

  “I heard you just got married.”

  “Yes sir, three days ago.”

  “Then why are you here now? Why aren’t you home with your new bride?”

  “I wanted to go over the radar plans and the—”

  The commander waved his hand. “I’m glad you’re so conscientious but there are other aspects of life besides work—even in wartime. Now this is an order, Lieutenant: go home and spend the rest of the day with your new wife.”

  J.T. began to smile. “Yes sir, I’ll obey that order immediately.”

  * * *

  Aria looked at her reflection in the mirror as if she were hypnotized. She didn’t know the young woman who looked back at her. She put her hand to her hair, now a shoulder-length bob that felt so light and cool. Instead of a somber silk suit she wore a yellow-and-white-print cotton sundress that exposed her arms and shoulders and neck.

  “Well?” Dolly asked. “You like it?”

  “Very much,” Aria said breathlessly, then held out her skirt and turned about. “It feels so free, so…so…”

  “American?” Dolly prompted.

  “Exactly. Do I look American? As American as Dolley Madison?”

  “Dolley Madison?” Gail laughed. “You look as American as Coca-Cola. You’re one hundred percent red, white, and blue.”

  “Do you think Mitch will think so?” Aria asked, still looking at herself in the mirror.

  “Mitch?” Bonnie gasped. “But J.T.—”

  Aria caught herself. “Of course I meant my husband. It’s just that Mitch laughs. I mean, I’m sure that Lieutenant Montgomery does too. I’ve even seen him laugh. But as a general rule…” She trailed off as the four women watched her with interest.

  Dolly broke the silence. “J.T.’s a barrel of laughs. A regular riot. He’s just had a lot to think about lately what with this new radar and all. He’ll cheer up as soon as he’s sure everything’s gonna work. You’ll see. Hey! It’s quarter after three. We better get going. The guys’ll be waiting.”

  Bonnie, Gail, and Patty left through the front door of Gail’s house while Dolly caught Aria’s arm. “J.T.’s a really great guy. He’s had every single woman and half the married women on the island after him since he arrived.”

  Aria was incredulous. “Really? Perhaps there is a shortage of single men.”

  “In a navy town during a war?” Dolly gave Aria a long look. “J.T. hasn’t been very good to you, has he?”

  “He is m
y husband.” Aria realized that these American women had a way of making her forget herself. “He has been very kind to me.”

  “Bill starts being ‘kind’ to me and I’ll think there’s another woman. Come on, let’s go get some ice cream.”

  The husbands, except for J.T., were there, and Mitch was waiting for them. The way Mitch looked at Aria made her lower her head and blush. Involuntarily, she wished the army had chosen someone like this man for her husband.

  “You are gorgeous,” he said, taking her arm and leading her to a chair.

  It never occurred to Aria to tell this man he wasn’t allowed to touch her. The other couples, all newly married, were wrapped around each other, acting as if they hadn’t seen one another for months. Aria, with her new haircut and her borrowed sundress, felt almost as if she were one of them instead of a foreign princess. It seemed natural when Mitch moved his chair very close to hers and put his arm around the back of her chair.

  “I can’t get over how different you look,” he said softly. “You were beautiful before but now you could stop traffic. Maybe later we could get together for a moonlight drive.”

  Aria looked at her hands. This man was making her feel heavenly, as if she were enormously desirable, so very different from the way she had been feeling since she had arrived in America. “My husband,” she murmured.

  Mitch moved a little closer to her. “It’s obvious that J.T. doesn’t appreciate a dish like you. Princess, I’m serious about you. I like the way you look, the way you move. I’ve never met a girl like you. You and J.T. don’t seem to be exactly in love. There must be some other reason why you married him. A baby on the way?”

  “Certainly not,” Aria said, but gently.

  Mitch’s hand moved to her shoulder, his fingers caressing her skin, and his touch felt delicious. No man had ever touched her skin like this before.

  She looked up into his eyes, their noses almost touching.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Mitch whispered.

  She was on the verge of agreeing when all hell broke loose—the hell being in the form of Lieutenant J. T. Montgomery.

  “Jesus H. Christ!” he bellowed. “What have you done to your goddamned hair?”