Royal Baby_His Unplanned Heir

by Layla Valentine

  Ransacking every drawer and corner of the old fridge was done in vain. All I found were some onion skins and one little triangle of Laughing Cow cheese that had expired months ago. The freezer wasn’t as dismal. I found a package of hot dogs—just enough for a hungry kidnapper and a sleeping princess. Holding the package, I checked Gerald’s tank. He looked about as miserable as I felt, and as hungry.

  “I’ll feed you after I’ve fed me,” I promised him, turning away.

  I paused, glancing at the door.

  Seeing Gerald reminded me of the others, of the shed, but I didn’t have time for that now. Later, maybe, I could slip away. Who knew what Alice would say once she woke up.

  Cooking the hot dogs was calming, easy. I knew what to do, what pot to get out, the water line already etched on the pot’s old interior. And then, standing there, I got to wait. I didn’t have to worry about what was coming or going, about the beautiful girl in my bed who I might have lost already. All I had to do was stand there and wait and wish it would never end.

  But it did. Too soon, the lid started clattering up and down—signaling it was time to turn down the temperature and take off the lid. Then, after only a few more minutes, filled with a test with a fork and a plop on an artistic-looking cracked plate, our meal was good to go.

  But I wasn’t. I took another useless look at Gerald, paced around the cabin, and then, finally, took a deep breath, grabbed the plate of hot dogs, and made my way up the stairs.

  In my bed, Alice looked completely at ease enveloped in the sheets, like she was a part of them, only a flopped-over foot and a blissful face visible among the expanse of ivory cotton.

  When I sat beside her, she only shifted her position and switched the side of her mouth that was smiling. When I poked at her lips with a hot dog, the pink-lipped side smile grew to cover her whole face. One eye fluttered open, then the other.

  “Jake?” she murmured.

  I lay beside her and slipped the hot dog between her lips.

  “Lunch.”

  She grinned, bit down, chewed, and then, sitting up, sighed.

  “Mmm…”

  We sat there, me feeding her, her smiling and chewing and smiling some more. I couldn’t take not kissing her any longer. My lips met hers, our tongues twirled together, and her hands gripped my face like she couldn’t bear me stopping. My hand slipped under the covers, and the hot dogs tumbled off the plate.

  “Shit,” I said as she giggled.

  Turning on her side to face me, Alice asked, “What now?”

  I lifted another hot dog, slipping it between her lips.

  “Now, we eat.”

  Alice took another bite. Then her expression became grave.

  “And then?”

  There was something in her face that indicated this wasn’t an innocent question; there was an answer I was supposed to give. And yet, while I had no idea what answer she expected or wanted from me, looking into those clear blue, hopeful eyes, I knew what I had to do.

  “Then I have something I want to show you outside.”

  She grabbed a hot dog and slipped it between my lips, nodding.

  “Okay.”

  Finishing the hot dogs took longer than I would’ve thought. Although Alice was ravenous, taking two huge bites at a time, it was the kissing that did us in. Every few bites, I’d glance over, see those intent, expectant eyes doing the same, and I couldn’t resist. I had to kiss her.

  And so I did, our kisses delicious and warm, my hands delighting in her body once more.

  God, I wanted her. And yet, I stopped my hands at her waist, stopped them from going farther toward their true desire. If I got started at that again, I’d never stop, and we’d never get anything done.

  When the hot dogs were gone and we’d had one last long kiss, I broke away. I walked over to my closet, picked out the biggest and longest shirt I had, and tossed it at her.

  “Some new fashion for you to rock.”

  She grinned and, cocking her head at me, asked, “Pants?”

  I shook my head and she pouted, so I threw her a clean pair of boxers. Hurrying downstairs stopped me from kissing her again as she got dressed. She followed me shortly after.

  “C’mon,” I said. “We’ve got to get some food for Gerald, but first I have to show you something.”

  “Okay,” she replied.

  And so we walked out of the cabin.

  Pip somehow knew already. She was grinning at the two of us as she danced at our feet, barking her congratulations for what we had done and what we were about to do. It wasn’t far to the shed, and Alice didn’t say much. She understood that now wasn’t a time for speaking but for seeing and understanding.

  The shed was quiet. It was tucked beside some trees, and even just putting my hand on the door calmed me. I swung it open, stepped in, and, grasping her hand, brought her in with me. Now the shed wasn’t quiet, but Alice was. Taking in what she saw, she took a moment before she spoke.

  “Jake… These…they’re all yours?”

  I nodded.

  She took another look at the cages. There was Bernie the owl with his bandaged-up broken wing; Oswald the baby marmot, still suckling its little bottle; and Helen the once half-starved pika, rolling gleefully around her pile of food.

  I regarded my little family, the collection I’d acquired over the past few months of wandering through the Rocky Mountain forests, and the words came forth to explain.

  “I’ve always had this love for animals, like they were beyond all the cruelty people had shown me. Like I could trust them. I found Bernie a few weeks ago, half-paralyzed at the bottom of a tree, abandoned by his family. Oswald I stumbled on a month or so ago, crying out of an empty nest for a mother who never came. Helen was trapped underneath a fallen tree, half-starved and too weak to move. The Internet told me what to do, and experience taught me the rest. These little guys, it’s silly, but they and Pip are the most family I’ve ever known.”

  Bending over, Alice peered into Oswald’s cage, the smile on her face growing.

  “Jake, you know what this means, don’t you?”

  Without waiting for my answer, she continued. “You could do this, Jake. You don’t need to be a criminal forever; you could really do this. You could help animals. You could get a regular job.”

  At my own thoughts voiced by her sweet, eager voice, I threw my arms around her. I held her, my most precious find of all, and she turned around and kissed me, while my animal friends chattered their approval.

  A few minutes later, when we’d finally separated, I asked, “So, you’re okay with going for a food run for the little guys then?”

  Alice grinned and nodded.

  “Of course. What do we have to find?”

  I rhymed off the list I’d memorized by now. “Helen eats sedges, alpine avens, and clover. Oswald will go for most grasses and flowers and any crickets or worms we get for Gerald. Bernie would like to eat Helen or Gerald if I’m being perfectly honest, but he’ll settle for some worms and insects too.”

  I held up the container I’d stashed in my pocket.

  “We can use this to collect everything.”

  “Sounds good,” Alice said. “Let’s go.”

  So we did, Pip bounding ahead eagerly while we walked behind. I hardly noticed we were walking; all I noticed was her warm hand in mine. We walked and we felt. We smiled.

  Maybe this was what love was, being able to walk with someone forever. Not really doing much and saying less, and it being all right. It being more than all right—good, great even.

  When I looked over at Alice, she was already looking over at me, smiling like she was thinking the same thoughts. Always ahead, always barking with glee, Pip danced as happily as our thoughts. Even when worry started to creep in about what tomorrow would bring, how in the world this could work, Alice would squeeze my hand just in time and I’d know. With this extraordinary woman by my side, everything was going to be all right.

  As we walked, gradually we sp
otted what was needed. It was just part of embracing our walking, really, the soft grass under our feet, the cricket smiling up at us. All of it presented itself to us, and we plopped supplies into the container and continued on. The rest of what we needed presented itself to us similarly—some worms by a rock, a bunch of flowers farther on, tucked amid some clover. Grass was everywhere; we just had to stop, pick it up, and drop it in the container.

  I didn’t realize Pip had been taking us back to the pond until we got there. It looked even more beautiful than usual. The willows had flourished in only a day, and it seemed like there was a long strand of leaves over every part of the pond. Sunlight was trickling through them just so, illuminating the strands the wind was playing with.

  Alice was illuminated, her smile soft, her closed eyes haloed as she inhaled the clear air. Then she opened her eyes, fixed her gaze on the pond, and a shadow passed over her face.

  And I realized I had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alice

  What was I doing here? Back at the pond I hadn’t swum in last time and wouldn’t swim in this time. It didn’t matter that my hand was in the clasp of the most incredible man I’d ever met in my life; I couldn’t do this. But as I turned to him with the “no” on my lips, he was already nodding. He already understood.

  “Hey, babe, it’s okay. It’s all right. You don’t have to go in,” Jake said, tracing my jawline with his pointer finger.

  I nodded, but as I gazed into his mossy green eyes, the thought came to me.

  “What if I did?”

  Jake cocked his head at me, but already I was stepping away from him, my hand slipping out of his. In this dreamlike state, I took off Jake’s shirt and his boxers. Then I was stepping into the water. Everything was quiet and cool. The pond was so clear I could see my pink-polished toes sinking into the dirt below.

  Seeing me join her, Pip did half leaps of jubilation, while, behind me, Jake didn’t move. He knew. I had to do this by myself. And, one foot after the other, one deep breath after the next, I did. Step by step, I walked toward the middle of the pond and kept walking until the ground was out of reach, the water too deep. Until I was swimming.

  As the forest burst into sudden celebration, the birds tweeting, the wind whooshing, the trees swaying, I did it. I swam, floated, and smiled.

  Next thing I knew, Jake was bounding in after me, scooping me up in his arms and twirling me around.

  “I knew you could,” he said, and I could only laugh in response.

  Because I had never known, still couldn’t believe, that I had been capable of it. My fear dribbled off me in watery beads, and he and I laughed, this man who had been my greatest fear and was proving to be my greatest salvation. My past, present, and maybe even future all wrapped up into one extraordinary package.

  Jake dunked me and I splashed him. Pip barked her approval before darting off into the forest after some ducks. And it was funny: Here we were in the same place, the same people with the same dog—hell, with the same ducks—and yet nothing at all was the same. Everything was different.

  I didn’t know how long we spent there, swimming and kissing and swimming some more. I didn’t know how many times Jake paused to peer into my eyes or kissed my smile. All I knew was that when the sun started to set, Jake scooped me up out of the water.

  “Dinnertime,” he murmured in my ear as he carried me out.

  “Didn’t know my tummy had been that loud,” I commented with a grin.

  He stopped to pat it, and then we were off. While the walk the first time had been long, and the second time nice but still long, this time it seemed to last only a second. After an instant of glancing up at the stubbly, still-smiling, handsome face of the man carrying me and our clothes, we were back at the cabin.

  He put me down and said, “Don’t move. I’ll just be getting dinner now.”

  I didn’t. No, I slumped on my back and watched him walk outside. Through the side window, I saw him take out his phone. I sat up. Something told me he wasn’t just getting dinner ready. As he spoke into the small black thing, I made my way to the door. As I creaked it open, Jake walked in.

  Patting my cheek, he smiled affectionately.

  “You’re really not one for following orders, are you?”

  I drew back. Scrutinizing his face, I said, “So, you were getting dinner ready, huh?”

  His face fell.

  “Yeah, I was, actually.”

  I scoffed.

  “On the phone.”

  Jake only smiled.

  “Wait thirty minutes, and then you’ll see.”

  For my second search of his face, he still wore the same calm, open expression, so I stalked over to the couch and flopped down. Pip ran up to me, and I absently ran my hands through her fur. Coming over to me, Jake lifted the container of our recent finds.

  “Almost forgot. Want to help feed the little guys?”

  I shook my head, and he shrugged.

  “Suit yourself. See you in five.”

  My anxiety only increased once the door shut behind him.

  How could Jake have been getting food on the phone? It wasn’t like there was a Pizza Palace just around the corner. He had to be lying, had to have been talking to someone he didn’t want me knowing about—his employer, “Sunshine,” maybe.

  Pip put her paw on my leg, and I sighed. Together, we walked out of the door and toward the shed. Through a hole in the shed door, I watched the blue-shirted man bend over the cages, smile at the baby marmot, and coax the pika into eating some flowers. When he turned to go, I stepped away from the door and hurried back to the cabin.

  I wasn’t fast enough, however. His gently mocking voice followed me to the door.

  “Spying on me, huh?”

  I paused. Then I felt his hand on my back.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  I stiffened and didn’t, couldn’t, let myself relax under the familiar, welcome touch. How could I trust a man who had kidnapped me, tied me up, acted like he cared about me, and yet still wouldn’t tell me who he was working for? Breaking away, I hurried to the door.

  “Just leave me alone.”

  “Hey! Alice, what’s wrong?”

  Slamming the door didn’t stop him. It just prolonged him from coming over to me on the couch and leaning in. There was a nervous tension in his voice and a quiet pleading in his eyes.

  “Babe, please, please—I don’t understand. What’s the matter?”

  I lifted my gaze and looked him in the eye straight on. My handsome savior, my dangerous captor, my biggest surprise and worst mistake.

  “Who are you working for, Jake?”

  The question slapped him across the face. He jerked back; his eyes fell; he turned away.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said.

  He shook his head and walked to the stairs.

  “You don’t understand…”

  I stood up.

  “Then make me understand.”

  He only shook his head again.

  “Alice, please, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  I walked to the door and opened it.

  “This coming from the man who tied me up and kidnapped me. Please, no more lies, Jake. I can’t take it.”

  Then I was outside, going somewhere—anywhere. I didn’t care as long as it was away.

  As I walked away, my hand was grabbed.

  “Paul. It’s Paul.”

  I froze, and Jake said, “Alice, I am so sorry.”

  I didn’t look at him as I said one word: “No.”

  His voice came out low and jerky, as if he had to force each statement out of himself.

  “We’ve worked together for a while. Mostly beating guys up, a few robberies, but this was the first big job.”

  I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. He had been working with Paul, my fiancé. And yet, it couldn’t be true. Not Paul. Not the sweet Paul who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not the P
aul who had pursued me day and night, who had cared for me like no one had before. Not the man I had been going to marry less than a week ago.

  “Alice, I’m so sorry. But I wasn’t going to go through with it. Not since that first night. I couldn’t. Alice, please, you have to believe me.”

  His hand clasped around my wrist. I ripped my arm away.

  “Liar.”

  “Alice—”

  I turned to him, wiping away the tears that were already streaming down my face.

  “Don’t you understand, Jake? How can I ever trust you after this? The whole reason we met was because you kidnapped me, for God’s sake—a kidnapping that was commissioned by my fiancé of all people. How can I even trust myself after almost marrying a con artist?”

  Jake stepped forward.

  “Please, Alice. You said yourself that it didn’t feel right with Paul. Now tell me.” He clasped both my hands. “Does this feel right?”

  I didn’t tell him my answer. My whole body was trembling with it, from my clasped fingers all the way up to my lips, to the smile and kiss fighting their way up.

  My gaze flicked to the still-visible rope sores on my wrists, and I ripped myself free.

  “I can’t, Jake.”

  Even as I walked off, he followed me, his words coming out in harried bursts.

  “Please, Alice—please. Let me prove it to you. Anything—I’ll do anything. Please.”

  I paused and then whirled around to spit my answer in his face, the one he wouldn’t take me up on.

  “Call him then. Papa. Mr. Heston Pryce. Right now. Call him and tell him that it’s off, that I’m safe and he doesn’t owe you a penny. Then turn yourself in to the police, take ownership of what you’ve done—the bank robbery, the kidnapping, everything. For once in your life, Jake, take responsibility for what you’ve done.”

  I stared into his face, at the clenched jaw, the eyes intent on something in the distance, something that couldn’t be seen by me or anybody else but him. It was some sort of mash of the past, present, and future, of yelling voices, balled-up fists, and dead eyes. Something that had already decided what he was going to do, what I had known he was going to do as soon as I had asked him to do the right thing.