His Sword

by Holly Hart

  Maria stands and smooths her skirt.

  “Well, then,” she says. “I’ll arrange for the money to be sent to your father’s bank as soon as possible.”

  “Not before the wedding,” Amanda says hastily. “I have to have time to tell him about it.”

  “Of course.”

  The next step is obvious, and the sooner we get it over with, the better.

  “Are you prepared to speak with the twins right now?” I ask.

  Amanda nods. “No time like the present. Or as Dad would say, git ‘er done.”

  I smile. I think I’m going to like Isaac Sparks. The question, of course, is whether he’ll like me.

  As we reach the door of my chambers, I stop and take Amanda by the arm.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  Her eyes betray nothing. Our passion in the gardens was real – at least it was for me – but the outrageous circumstances that have brought us together would overwhelm anyone. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I forced her into something she didn’t want.

  “I’m sure,” she says. “Like I told you before, it’s the right thing to do.”

  The right thing to do.

  How incredibly romantic. Sigh.

  Chapter Seventeen

  17. AMANDA

  When I was a girl, I couldn’t wait to finish my chores on a hot summer afternoon and then head for the shores of the Marias River that flows past our place. There’s an oxbow about a half-mile directly south of our house that forms a swimming hole where my friends an I would while away as many hours as our parents would let us.

  This is sort of like that, except it’s a lagoon formed by Lake Orta. And it’s about a hundred times the size. And it’s below a royal palace. And it’s the Alps in the distance instead of the Rockies.

  Other than that, it’s identical.

  “Shark!” Oriana cries, paddling furiously. “Look out!”

  Vito, knee-deep and closer to shore, jumps back reflexively before realizing he’s been had.

  “There’s no sharks in the lake,” he says. “Everyone knows that.”

  “There could be sharks in here,” Oriana says. “Right, Amanda?”

  She drops me the most comical wink I’ve ever seen. I work very hard to keep the smile from my face. I shade the blazing sun with my hand and gaze out at the lake.

  “You never know,” I say. “Just because no one has ever seen a shark in the lake doesn’t’ mean there aren’t any.”

  “Sharks only live in salt water,” Vito says in a tone that says everyone with a brain would agree with him.

  “Actually, that’s not true. Bull sharks can live in both salt water and fresh water.”

  Oriana sticks her tongue out at him. “See?”

  Vito looks vexed, so I let him off the hook.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “We’re about 200 kilometers from the nearest ocean. That’s a long way for a bull shark to walk.”

  Vito sneers at his sister. “See?” he mocks.

  “Who cares?” says Oriana, jumping up and then splashing back down.

  “Who cares about what?”

  It’s Dante’s voice coming from behind me. Guess it’s time to get serious about things. I turn in my lounger to face him and almost fall over into the sand.

  The man should come with a warning label: Do Not Look Directly At The Body. Seriously, there doesn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on that body. The shoulders like cannonballs, the chiseled chest, the eight-pack that ends in a vee pointing down to his –

  Snap out of it! There are children here!

  Thank goodness he’s wearing black mid-thigh swim trunks. It’s easier to hide his… gifts from eyes that don’t need to see them.

  “Uh, sharks,” I say, looking quickly away.

  “I’ve never seen a shark in the lake,” he says. “But I saw an octopus once. When I was a boy.”

  He walks past me and wades into the water near the kids. The sun dapples on the surface of the water, sending balls of light dancing across the perfect globes of his butt cheeks…

  I need to get myself under control before my nipples start poking through the fabric of my bikini top. Who’s idea was it to do this on the beach?

  “You did not,” says Vito.

  “Really?” asks Oriana, wide-eyed. “Where was it?”

  Dante turns the twins to face out towards the area where the lagoon meets the lake. He points to an outcropping on the far shore.

  “Do you see that rock there?” he asks.

  “Yes,” they say in unison. For fraternal twins, they’re eerily in synch with each other.

  “Well, one day I was on a boat near there, fishing with your mother, and suddenly I saw movement under the surface. Something long and black. It was moving verrry slowly, back and forth, back and forth.”

  The kids are silent as Dante waves his arm slowly from side to side.

  “Your mom didn’t see the creature, and before I could stop her, she had jumped into he water to swim. Next thing I knew, the creature was right underneath her. I could see it, as clearly as I see you two right now.”

  Even from behind, I can tell the kids are hypnotized by the story, staring into the distance. Meanwhile, Dante positions his rippling arms behind the kids.

  “’Adriana!’ I cried. ‘Watch out!’ But it was too late.”

  “What happened?” Oriana whispers. I can just picture her face.

  Dante bends over so that his mouth is aligned with their ears. His voice is low and menacing.

  “Your mother disappeared into the depths. I called her name, over and over, but all I could see was bubbles rising to the surface. I ran to the side of the boat and climbed down the ladder, so that my nose was right next to the water. I looked down, down, down into the blackness.

  “Suddenly, I saw something move.”

  “And then what?” Vito breathes.

  “And then the octopus got me!”

  He grabs the kids from behind and hoists them effortlessly out of the water, kicking and shrieking. Then he falls backwards with them in tow, dragging them into the briny deep, just like the octopus in the story.

  “That’s not true!” Vito shouts as he breaks the surface and wipes water from his eyes.

  Oriana simply giggles and swims away. She seems to be the better sport of the two. Vito tends to be a little too serious for his own good.

  And I wouldn’t have them any other way.

  I watch the three of them scamper around in the water for a while. Dante really is wonderful with the kids, and it’s obvious they adore him. If only the rest of the world could see what I’m seeing here.

  The question comes around again, the one I’ve been avoiding since I agreed to marry Dante: is what we’re doing fair to them? I have no idea where this marriage will lead. Will we still be together after this year is over and the time limit is up?

  My more pressing worry is whether we’ll be able to pull it off for the cameras. Maria says we’re going to announce the engagement tomorrow. Tell the media that they’ve all been fooled, we’ve been together for awhile right under their noses. Can we convince them it’s true love with less than two weeks until the wedding?

  And just in case that’s not enough stress, let’s not forget I have to plan the fucking thing myself!

  Suddenly I’m covered in droplets of cool water as Vito shakes like a dog right next to me.

  “Your Highness!” I gasp. “If you weren’t a prince, I’d paddle your royal butt!”

  He waggles his royal butt at me and giggles like a loon. So do I.

  Dante arrives carrying Oriana on his shoulders. The water glistens of his body like oil in the midday sun, outlining every curve, every angle, every vein.

  As Dante plops her down on the sand, Oriana says: “Can Amanda come to the beach with us all the time?”

  “Yes, please,” says Vito, sitting next to her. “I like this.”

  Dante glances at me. It’s your show, that look says. I guess
there’s no time like the present. Git ‘er done, as Dad would say. It occurs to me that I haven’t even told him about them yet – what will he think of suddenly being a sort-of grandpa?

  I’ll just add it to the list of thoughts for another time.

  “Actually, your uncle and I were hoping to talk to you about me being at the palace more often,” I say.

  “Really?” Oriana’s eyes light up. “I’d like that very much!”

  Their formal speech takes a bit of getting used to. I doubt I’ll ever hear “awesome!” from either of them.

  “Does that mean you’ll keep working here after Uncle’s birthday?” ask Vito.

  “Actually,” I say, “it means that I’ll be at the palace all the time. All day, every day.”

  They look at each other, then at Dante, then at me.

  “You’ll live here?” asks Oriana.

  Dante slides a hand into mine and smiles. I could almost believe this was real.

  I lean forward in my chair so that my face is close to theirs, more intimate. This is an important moment, and I want them to know that.

  “Your uncle has asked me to marry him,” I say.

  Again they look at each other, then at Dante, then at me. This is the point where it has to be just the three of us.

  “Your Highness, can you go get us some ice cream?” I ask.

  Dante gives me a sidelong glance, but agrees. “Chocolate for everyone?”

  “Yes,” we answer as one.

  We watch him retreat down the beach and up the stone stairs that lead to the palace.

  “Now,” I say. “This has to be just between us, okay?”

  They nod.

  “I know this is very sudden and must come as a shock.”

  “Not to me,” Oriana says triumphantly. “I knew it when I saw you together that first time.”

  I grin. “You’re an exceedingly clever girl, Oriana.”

  “What does it mean for us?” Vito asks. “Will we have to go to boarding school?”

  I reach out and put a hand on his little bare shoulder.

  “Never,” I say. “You’ll stay right where you are. The only thing that will change is that I’ll be here all the time. But only if you two are okay with that.”

  Another of their twin looks passes between them. I sometimes think they can read each other’s minds.

  As they do that, I slide out of the lounger and onto the sand, dropping down to one knee and looking up at their beautiful little faces. I never would have believed how raw my emotions would be at this moment.

  “I guess what I’m saying is: will you marry me, too?”

  My heart is galloping in my chest as I wait for the answer. I’m betting my entire future on a single word. Endless seconds tick past as they look into each other’s eyes. Finally, they nod and turn to face me.

  “Yes,” they say in unison.

  The dam breaks and my tears start to flow. I can see concern in their eyes – they’re probably not used to adults showing emotions, surrounded by nobles their entire lives – so I pull them into my arms and hug them fiercely.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “You’ve made me the happiest girl in the world.”

  “Can I be your flower girl?” Oriana asks as we separate. Her eyes are wide with excitement.

  “Of course!” I say. “Who else in the world could I possibly choose?”

  “What’s my job, then?” Vito asks.

  “You, my fine young prince, will be the ring bearer.”

  He frowns. “I get to be a bear?”

  Sometimes I forget English is their second language; they’re so good at it.

  “A ring bear-er,” I say. “You’ll carry the wedding rings during the ceremony. It’s a very important job.”

  He preens at his sister, who sticks her tongue out at him.

  “Flower girl is more important.”

  At that moment, Dante comes walking up with four waffle cones filled with rapidly melting chocolate ice cream.

  “Well?” he asks, handing us each a cone. “Have you reached a verdict?”

  “We said yes!” Oriana beams.

  Dante closes his eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath. I never really thought of how hard this whole situation must be on him. I don’t have anything to lose but my virginity; he stood to lose everything if this didn’t work out.

  His turns to me and we gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment. Unspoken emotions swirl behind his eyes. Mine too, I’m sure.

  “Oooohhh…” Oriana coos as Vito makes kissing noises.

  “That’s it,” says Dante. “Give me back the ice cream.”

  “No!” they cry, running back into the water to escape him. Soon they’re splashing each other with their feet as they lick their cones.

  Dante takes a seat in the sand next to me, and we sit watching them as the sun reflects off the surface of Lake Orta onto their perfect young skin.

  “You’re truly amazing,” he says. “They already adore you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Then I suppose all the pieces are in place. We can get married.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I snark, tipping his cone up just as he takes a bite. It leaves him with a blob of chocolate on his nose. “I’m the one who has less than two weeks to plan a royal wedding.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  18. AMANDA

  You’d think accepting a proposal of marriage from a devastatingly handsome and charming billionaire prince would be the beginning of a fairytale lifestyle. Glitz and glamor, beautiful people, exquisite parties.

  And maybe it will be. But right now, I’m lying with my feet in the stirrups of a hospital bed, with an old lady’s cold hand rooting around in my cooch.

  “I’m no gynecologist but that looks like an intact hymen to me,” she says, peering at my vagina through comically oversized glasses. “A perfect little half-moon.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Sabine,” Maria says, still holding my hand. “We appreciate your efforts, and, of course, your discretion.”

  She waves a dismissive hand before pulling off her rubber gloves.

  “I was the Trentinis’ doctor for three generations,” she says. Her English is impeccable, but her Swiss accent is very noticeable. “Discretion is my middle name. I’ve been keeping royal secrets for almost fifty years.”

  That means the old bird must be in her eighties. She still seems to have her faculties, though, even though her touch isn’t exactly delicate.

  “I apologize for my cold hands,” she says to me, as if reading my mind. “My circulation isn’t what it used to be.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I bring my legs down and sit up on the table. If someone had to confirm my virginity, I suppose I’m glad it was someone so understanding.

  Maria hands me my clothes and I head behind a screen to change, thus ending one of the most surreal experiences of my life. And that’s saying something, given the past few days.

  “I’m not sure how you would make a record of this,” Maria says to the doctor. “I suppose an affidavit of some sort will suffice.”

  “I’ll come up with something,” she says, shrugging her bony shoulders. “As the Americans say, this isn’t my first rodeo. Things have changed since the ‘70s, but I’m sure a simple certificate with my seal will be enough.”

  As I emerge from behind the screen, I see Maria’s brows knit.

  “I’m not sure I understand your meaning,” she says.

  “I did the same for Lia before she married Nero.”

  Lia and Nero? They were Dante’s parents. What is she talking about?

  “You had to certify that Dante’s mother was a virgin before her wedding?” Maria asks.

  “Of course,” the doctor says. “Just as I’m doing now. What’s confusing you?”

  “What about Adriana? Did you examine her before she married Albert?”

  Dr. Sabine blinks at Maria through those huge glasses.

  “Of course not,” she says. “Th
e decree only applies to the betrothed of the prince. Any daughters of the royal family can apparently screw a whole battalion and still get married, if they choose. But, of course, they don’t inherit the monarchy.”

  Maria looks at me. “So Dante’s parents knew about the decree,” she says. “But they died before they could pass it along to Dante. And there would have been no point telling Adriana, because it didn’t apply to her.”

  I shake my head. This kind of thing is impossible to wrap my head around. Most normal people only have to worry about getting to the church on time.

  Dr. Sabine holds up her hands in surrender.

  “I don’t understand,” she says. “You’re saying Dante didn’t learn about the decree from his father? Then how did he find out?”

  “By sheer good fortune,” says Maria. “A colleague of Amanda’s found it hidden inside the handle of the Trentini sword. How it got there no one seems to know.”

  The doctor’s eyes go wide as a look of horror steals across her withered face.

  “Lieber Gott,” she breathes. “It never occurred to me to tell the boy about the decree when his parents were killed. Oh my heavens, what have I done?”

  I put a hand on hers. The skin is thin and papery.

  “It’s not your fault,” I say. “You’re a doctor, you had more important things to think about.”

  “But if the decree hadn’t turned up…”

  “It did. There’s no reason to worry. The past is the past.”

  “Amanda is right,” says Maria. “If anyone is to blame, it’s Carlo. He was the Trentini’s chief counsel and advisor. He should have known.”

  Dr. Sabine shakes her head.

  “No, no, Carlo is not responsible,” she says. “He was still in private practice when Lia and Nero got married. He didn’t assume his father’s post until the year Adriana was born.”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. My dad always says you never truly fail until you start blaming somebody else.”

  Maria nods, but her face is still pulled into a frown.

  “I agree,” she says. “But we still have the question of how the decree ended up in the sword.”