His American Princess

by Pamela DuMond

  “Crap, that’s going to bruise.” I rubbed my behind. “My ass is going to look like an heirloom tomato by the time I get back to Bellèno. I held onto the safety bar for dear life with my double insulated mittens.

  Yes, I had a fear of heights. Yes, my fingertips turned blue-ish white when the temps sunk under fifty degrees Fahrenheit. But I would get my signed document from the good Father, or whatever the hell he was, that certified I was unwed. I would get it here and now on this mountain if I had to take up yodeling to do it.

  I glanced at Esmeralda who was in the seat on the lift next to me. Her ears weren’t up to her shoulders. She wasn’t gripping the bar like a desperate woman in ocean waters holding onto the edge of a Titanic lifeboat, screaming for someone to pull her in. As always, Esmeralda appeared calm and collected: the female Winston Churchill figure of our girl posse. It dawned on me that if I clung to the arm of her substantial ski parka, I might make it to the top of this mountain in one piece. I snuck my pink ski glove in her direction…

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said.

  “Why not?’

  “Because it’s past time that you conquered your fear of heights.” She kicked her skis back and forth, causing our carriage to rock even more precariously.

  “Now isn’t a fair time to have that conversation.” I sank back into the chair’s cold metal bones. “It should be perfectly obvious I’m already doing that. One: We’re in the Dolomite mountains. Not the flatlands. Two: We drove for hours up a twisty road with at least one thousand switchbacks, one of which I thought we wouldn’t survive.”

  “You mean the one where the back end of the car slipped off the cliff and Joan screamed, ‘We’re all going to die! We’re all going to die!’?”

  “Yes. Three: I’m on this stupid lift traveling up a steep mountain even though I’m a horrible skier.”

  “But you survived,” she said. “And look at all the tests you’ve passed the last few years. You, Vivian DeRose, are a woman of honor. A woman of substance. A chick who gets shit done. I’ve decided to tell you something I haven’t told any of the ladies. But first I must swear you to secrecy.”

  “Fine.” I glanced down at the tall pine trees that now appeared spindly from our vertically challenged perspective.

  “Hold up your right hand,” she said.

  “No. I’m holding onto the safety bar.”

  “I can’t tell you my secret if you don’t hold up your right hand.”

  “Can’t you just take my word for it?”

  “No. I need you to solemnly swear on something very important, something sacred. You don’t even have to tell me what it is, simply that you won’t share with anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Fine. But let’s do this quick, ‘K?” I held my pink mitten-clad hand in the air.

  “Repeat after me: I, Vivian Marie DeRose.”

  “I, Vivian Marie DeRose,” I said, peering at the exit platform that was quickly approaching. I had no idea how to ski off of one of these lifts. What if I fell in a heap as soon as we landed? What if the seat conked me on my head and I was knocked out, yet again? What if—

  Esmeralda snapped her fingers in front of me. “Earth to Vivian.”

  “Yes, Yes.”

  “Repeat after me. I, Vivian Marie DeRose do solemnly swear that I will never, on pain of death, reveal what Lady Esmeralda Ilona Castile von Hapsburg is about to tell me.”

  “I, Vivian, do solemnly swear that I will never, blah blah reveal with Lady Esmeralda blah blah is about to—oh crap we are landing and I have no idea how to do this.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know how to do this?”

  “I’ve only skied down bunny slopes before,” I said, hyperventilating.

  “Get out.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “Deep breath. It’s not as scary as it looks.” Esmeralda patted my arm. “When the chair lift lowers, there will be several seconds for us to drop our skis onto the landing. We lean forward, push off with our skies—preferably to one side—and clear the way for persons arriving on the chair behind us. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow my lead. Here we go. On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” She eased onto the landing and pushed off onto the sidelines.

  I froze.

  The chair rotated, turned around the bend. Unfortunately I was still on it.

  “This is not the plan, Vivian,” Esmeralda hollered, as Joan and Shay successfully exited the chair behind us and joined her staring up at me.

  “Fuck the plan,” I said.

  “Jump,” Joan said. “Before it’s too late!”

  “I’m scared!”

  “Do you want to be a Duchess of Bellèno?” Esmeralda asked.

  “I couldn’t care less about titles.” The distance between my skis and the snow covered hill increased.

  “Do you want to marry Prince Maximillian?” Shay asked.

  “Marriage is provincial. I could live with him for a while.”

  “You have to jump,” Esmeralda hollered. “Push off, keep your knees slightly bent, tuck in your core. Everything will be fine.”

  I gazed down at the ground. It really wasn’t all that far away. I closed my eyes. I let go. And I jumped.

  I hit with a jolt but to my surprise I landed upright. I gazed over my shoulder at my ladies. “I did it!” I shook one ski pole triumphantly in the air. “I survived the ski lift landing. I can totally do this skiing thing!”

  “Vivian?” Leo said.

  “Yes,” I said, right before I plowed into him, knocking him to the ground. We tumbled, falling like Jack and Jill down the hill, ending up in a pile in a powdery snow bank, our arms and legs entangled.

  Leo lay on top of me, his face planted firmly on my right boob, his legs pinned across mine. I probably could have squirmed out from beneath him, but quite frankly, all the wind was knocked out of me at this point, and it was all I could do to suck in air. “Sorry,” I whispered. “So very sorry. I owe you a drink.”

  Chapter 14

  LEOPOLD

  Thick flakes dropped from the dark, cloudy skies, quickly covering the trail in front of us. Vivian and I led the pack as we trekked along the path in a thickly wooded area, the ladies on the path behind us. “Royal Nana is on my ass to get that affidavit signed,” I said. “She wants us back in St. Luce for the holidays.”

  “I’ve got to get back to work,” Joan said.

  “Everyone wants it signed,” Esmeralda said.

  “Apparently not everyone,” Vivian said. “If you had just let me keep my phone it would have been a done deal. We wouldn’t be hiking over the Alps like the Von Trapp kids escaping the Nazis.”

  We’d left behind the smooth slopes enjoyed by the downhill skiers and ventured across steeper hills with sharp cliffs split by deep ravines, crisscrossed by fallen trees and mountain streams at the bottom encrusted with ice. I checked my phone. “According to Shay’s calculations we’re headed toward The Society’s compound.”

  “Glad they came in useful, Your Highness,” Shay said.

  I nodded at her and pulled in closer to Vivian. “I don’t recall seeing Shay at events or on the circuit. What do you know about her?”

  “She’s an art historian of sorts and friends with Esmeralda. I think she knows Max.”

  “How does she know Max and not me? That’s impossible considering the circles we run in.”

  “You need to ask Max that,” Vivian said. “Are you interested?”

  Was I interested? Sadly, I hadn’t been interested in anyone other than Vivian for over a year. Gorgeous, smart, talented ladies threw themselves at me. My dick frequently rose to the occasion, my heart did not. Dare I hope my heart could beat again than for someone other than my brother’s sweetheart?

  “No time. Look over that ridge” I said. “Do you see that cluster of modern buildings in the near distance?”

  “The ones surrounded by barbed wire fence and a guard hut at the front gate?”
Vivian asked.

  “Yes. Nana’s people have ascertained that it’s been leased by the Society of Royal Alchemists. It’s a retreat, or commune of sorts where Milton Mertz has taken refuge with like-minded cohorts.”

  “That sounds mysterious,” Joan said.

  I took off my ski cap, shook the snow from it, and then shoved it in my pocket. “Not my circus, not my monkeys, but you ladies are under my care. Speaking of which, Vivian—you have two inches of snow on your head. You look like a snow cone.” I leaned forward and brushed the snow off her woolen cap. Her cheeks were red from the frosty air and skiing’s exertion. She was so pretty and I felt a wave of protection, and I doubted my heart would be tempted by another fetching lass any time soon. “After your dive into the Venice canal, you don’t want to come down with a common cold.”

  Vivian pointed. “Hey! Do you see that?”

  A familiar figure stood on a large, open expanse, far behind the barbed wire fence. The man wore a thick parka and snow boots, sported a ruddy face, and waved a green day-glow Frisbee high in the air. A Black Labrador retriever and an enormous tri-colored Bernese Mountain dog barked up at him, wagging their tails.

  “I miss my dog,” Vivian said. “If we weren’t on a mission, I’d be half tempted to throw myself over the fence to be included in the game. At least that one looks like fun.”

  The man threw the Frisbee and we caught a full frontal glimpse of his face.

  Vivian inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her chest. “It’s Milton Mertz. Oh my God, what are the odds?”

  Esmeralda whipped out a pair of binoculars. “It is Mertz. Poser.”

  “He already gave me his signature once,” Vivian said. “I bet if I just walk up to the gate, call out to him super nice, he’ll give it to me again. Who has a copy of the affidavit?”

  “I do. You don’t know if the poser is accessible, let alone friendly,” I said. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “We’re in the middle of a deserted forest, a decent hike away from any popular ski trails,” Joan said. “And they have armed guards.”

  “That compound does not look warm and fuzzy,” Shay said.

  Vivian frowned. “But there are dogs.”

  “They have Uzis,” I said.

  “The Society of Royal Alchemists is very old,” Shay said. “They have secrets and rules that we are not privy to. Milton Mertz might be in seclusion. He might not even be allowed to meet with you face to face, let alone give you another signature.”

  “Let’s not forget I’m a barrister,” Joan said. “If we can’t get his signature on the affidavit, we can pursue other legal action to force him to right his wrong.”

  Vivian shook her head. “Technically it’s not his ‘wrong’ at this point. It’s mine. I’m the one who fell in the water after he signed the document. It’s my fault we’re even here, trekking about in the cold. I’m enormously sorry. You’ve all taken time out of your busy lives to help me with my dilemma and I appreciate it enormously. If I hadn’t fallen in the stupid canal in Venice we’d be back in St. Luce right now, enjoying some Christmas cheer, drinking spiked eggnog, exchanging gifts, and doing last minute shopping.” Her eyes welled and she wiped away a few tears.

  “Stop,” I said, willing my hands to stay still. Not pull her tight to me. Not lift her face toward mine. Not kiss her tears away. “That was an accident. Just one of those crazy things.”

  “I ruined all of your Christmases and I’m so very sorry. From the bottom of my heart I apologize.”

  “I for one am sorry-not sorry,” Esmeralda said. “I got laid by the hot Italian chauffeur. He was exceptional in the sack. Christmas came a little early this year if you know what I mean. Happy Holidays.”

  “Sorry-not sorry,” Joan said. “I scored an excellent ball gown and went from wallflower to blooming flower in Venice of all places. Gareth’s going to visit me in St. Luce for New Year’s Eve. Happy Holidays!”

  “Sorry-not sorry,” Shay said. “I’m having more fun with you all than I’ve had with my head in the history books for the past six months.”

  I smiled. “So, you see, Vivian, our Christmases are turning out just fine in spite of everything. What can we do to cheer you up?”

  “You’ve done everything possible to cheer me up. You’ve supported me by being here. You’ve been kind. Helpful,” Vivian said. “All I want for Christmas is to be officially married. I miss Max. I miss his face. I miss his voice.”

  She stared at Milton Mertz playing Frisbee with the dogs.

  “He holds the key to your happiness,” Joan said.

  “Or does he?” Vivian asked.

  Chapter 15

  VIVIAN

  “What do you mean?” Joan asks.

  “What if I was the one who determined my happiness? Maybe I already held the key to my happiness. It’s in my determination.

  Esmeralda nodded. “Strengthened by perseverance.”

  “What if I had been looking to someone else for permission or the ability to solve my problems when the entire time, I was the person in charge of solving my own problems?”

  “You are your own champion,” Shay said.

  “You are your own knightress in shining fucking armor,” Esmeralda said.

  “I am my own fucking one.”

  The snow fell more heavily around us, obscuring my vision. But I could still see one thing clearly: exercise time with the dogs was over. Milton turned and headed back toward the large compound further into the depths of the property.

  “It’s okay, Vivian,” Esmeralda said. “It’s past time to turn back. Unless you’re a polar bear. The weather’s shitty. You can be your own fucking one back at the lodge.”

  “We’ll sit in front of a toasty fireplace, have a drink, and figure out a legal plan of attack,” Joan said. “Yes, it will be a slower approach. It will probably take a few years, but if we’re lucky, eventually you and Max can wed again.”

  “No.” I unlatched my skis and kicked them to the side. “I am getting this done and I am getting it done now.” I clapped my pink mittens together and raced forward as fast as a woman resembling a pastel pastry could run through snowy mountain terrain. “Father Roberto!”

  He paused mid-stride.

  I skirted around a fallen tree.

  “Hang on, Vivian!” Leo said. “Let me do this.”

  “Milton Mertz! Stop! Don’t go inside!” I kept running, the barbed wire fence growing closer. The snow pounded under my boots. The path narrowed. I was closer to steep drop-offs, but I didn’t care. The heavens opened up and the snow beat down around me with a fury.

  “Vivian, for God’s sakes, stop!” Esmeralda yelled. “I’m connected. If push comes to shove, I can call in favors. I have ways to track this poser down. It’s part of the secret I was trying to tell you on the chairlift.”

  “Father Roberto!” I yelled. “Wait!”

  The dogs raced toward the fence, bounding through the snow, barking excitedly. “Vivian?”

  “Yes.” I paused to catch my breath and waved at him. “Yes. I have one more favor to ask. Could you sign that affidavit again? There was a problem with the last one.”

  “Of course,” He waved at the guards. “Let her in the gate.”

  “Thank you! Thank you so very much!” I looked back at the ladies and Leo. “You see what I mean? That wasn’t all that tough.”

  I moved forward on the narrow path, stepping onto a thick tree trunk covered in snow. I heard a crisp crunch as my foot fell through the rotted wood and I tumbled down the cliff into a ravine.

  Chapter 16

  MAXIMILLIAN

  Someone from the Society of Royal Alchemists lodge called the Air and Rescue Unit where I was serving. A group had been out cross-country skiing in the back hills and a woman had plummeted into a steep gorge, her companions unable to extricate her.

  We’d flown a chopper in over the mountains and circled over the area, the captain determining an air mission would be our best bet to rescue the
fallen woman. A few minutes later the co-captain received another the call that the party included my brother, Leo, and the ladies. I thought I was going to throw up when I learned Vivian had tumbled into the snowy crevasse in the Dolomites Mountains.

  I rappelled down into the gorge and raced to her side. “Vivian, are you okay?”

  “Everything feels okay except for my ankle. And I’m cold. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I’m sorry, my love.” I grabbed a thermal blanket from my backpack and wrapped it around her. “I shouldn’t have taken guard duty. I should have stayed put with you. Jesus Christ, what was I thinking?”

  “That you were doing your job. That you were taking care of business the way you always do.”

  I leaned in and kissed her very cold, but very sweet lips. God, I’d missed them. I’d missed her. It hit my heart like a sack of stones that I could have lost her again. Permanently. My hands shook as I picked her up and placed her on the medical cot. “Shut your eyes and breathe,” I said, and strapped her securely in.

  “You’re coming with, I hope,” she said.

  “You get the first class ride this time. I’ll follow behind you.” I signaled with my walkie-talkie as the rescue team hauled her toward the helicopter. I wiped the sweat off my brow and told myself to get a grip.

  “Max!”

  “What?” I looked up. She was about twenty feet off the ground. What if her straps were coming loose? Was she going to fall again? What if the pain was getting worse? Damn. I had no control. It seemed like I couldn’t keep her safe.

  “Father Roberto signed the document,” she said. “After I fell. They called 911, he signed it and gave it to Leo. It’s a done deal.”

  “Jesus Christ Vivian, I don’t care about the document. I care about you.”

  “You’re supposed to be happy,” she said.