The Peculiar Princess

by Christina Graham Parker

  Lexy returned the smile. “I can see why. He’s a fine man.”

  Margaret’s chest swelled. “Yes, my lady. He has been King Torsten’s strongest supporter, even after all this time. And now we are privileged to have the Duke of Culberton’s fortune, especially since you have returned.”

  “Mmm,” Lexy answered.

  Too bad the fortune came attached to his younger son.

  ****

  The light had started to fade when the foursome came upon a small gathering of crude buildings.

  “We are about to be out of Dresdonia, my lady,” Ebbe explained. “This is the holding of Lord Yager. He is a staunch supporter of King Torsten, but has kept this opinion to himself for the most part. We will stay in the main house tonight.”

  “Will we tell him who I am?” Lexy stared at a large house in the distance. She was comfortable with Ebbe, Margaret, and to a certain extent, Lukas. But to announce herself to others scared her.

  “Lord Yager is not home at present. He has been called away to attend to business in England. He has granted us leave to stay at his home.” Ebbe seemed to sense her unease. “We will be undisturbed here. There will be time in the future to make his acquaintance.”

  Lexy nodded. Ebbe appeared to have the situation under control. The group made its way up the drive to the large stone house ahead of them. They left the horses in the care of two young groomsmen.

  A dour housekeeper met them at the door. “Mr. Bixby,” she said, looking down her long nose. “I did not expect to see you so soon.”

  “Good evening, Miss Holden.” Ebbe smiled. “Lord Yager indicated we would be able to take our rest here as we traveled through the country.”

  “Yes. He informed me. Please come in.” She moved to let them pass, but did not return the smile. Her eyes widened when Lukas passed. “Lord Lukas! Sir. I did not expect to see you.”

  His reply was lost on Lexy. She had insulted him earlier. He was ‘Lord Lukas.’ She stifled a groan and decided to ask his forgiveness before the next morning.

  Miss Holden led the group into the house and up the stairs where they were shown to their individual rooms. Margaret carried a large bundle into Lexy’s room and clasped her hands behind her back. “I asked one of the chambermaids to bring in hot water for a bath. I assume this will be to your liking? I noticed you attempted to wash in the stream earlier.”

  Lexy almost squealed in excitement. “Thank you, Margaret! A bath would be wonderful.” After all the walking she’d done the day before and riding a horse for eight hours, a bath sounded one step away from heaven.

  Margaret bubbled with pride and scurried out of the room. A short time later, Lexy sat submerged to her neck in warm water. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling the tension drain from her body. She’d almost dozed off when Margaret entered the room again. It took a few minutes to realize Margaret had no intention of leaving, but planned to stay and help her out of the bath. It took some doing but Margaret left her alone once Lexy promised to call for help after drying off and getting into her undergarments.

  After dressing, she glided down the stairs to dinner, amazed at how much better she felt. Even Lukas’s harsh expression didn’t faze her, and she smiled at the group. Dinner itself was unremarkable, consisting of a poached fish served with overcooked vegetables. And garlic, loads of garlic. Not for the first time, she wished for a toothbrush.

  After dinner, Ebbe asked her and Lukas to join him in the library. She bid Margaret goodnight and found the men standing at a desk covered by a large map. Maybe she would discover where she was once and for all. She walked to the desk. It was a map of Dresdonia.What drew her attention was not the map, but the black numbers in the upper left corner–1575.

  Spots appeared before her eyes, she released her breath little by little.

  Over the course of the day, she’d convinced herself she was in 1580. Of course, thinking it differed a great deal from finding indisputable proof. Fortunately, her discomfort seemed to pass unnoticed by Ebbe and Lukas. She prayed for a few seconds and then focused her attention on the map once more.

  “It’s not an island,” she said, speaking the first thing coming to mind.

  Ebbe looked up. “No, my lady. Dresdonia is not an island. What would have given you that idea?”

  Her face heated. “Just something I heard.”

  She had Ebbe’s complete attention. “You learned about our land in your time?”

  “No, it’s not like I learned about it in history or anything. Not too long ago, a friend told me about the legend surrounding Dresdonia.”

  “Enlighten us.” Lukas spoke for the first time.

  She shook her head. “I almost hate to say anything. She also told me it was an island.”

  “We will discuss it later if you wish,” Ebbe said. “What if I show you the map?”

  At her nod, Ebbe pointed out the borders of her homeland. Tucked between what she knew as Wales and England, Dresdonia was a small country, about the size of Virginia. Maybe a touch larger.

  She wondered just how much of the legend Cara told her was truthful, but decided not to ask her questions right then. The next day would offer plenty of discussion time with Ebbe or Margaret. She glanced at Lukas. Or him.

  Ebbe might have chosen to disregard her island remark, but Lukas stood with arms crossed, an odd expression on his face. She went back to the map, and at once her words to him from the morning came back to her. What had gotten into her? Most of the time, she treated people nicer. His silence throughout the evening had been uncomfortable. Had she angered him? She’d have to talk with him sooner or later.

  As it turned out, it was sooner. Ebbe spent a few minutes pointing out various places of interest on the map, including where they were to meet the Duke of Culberton, before indicating he would turn in for the night. Lukas wasted little time before mumbling something about heading upstairs himself.

  “Lord Lukas?” she called as his foot touched the first step.

  He slowly turned. “Princess Alexia.”

  Alexia.

  She’d been the one to demand he use her full name. It seemed an appropriate putdown that morning. A fitting punishment for insinuating her nickname was ridiculous. But she’d not considered how her name would flow from his lips. Spoken just so in his very smooth, very refined accent.

  It’d been a mistake to insist he call her by her full name when no one else had ever done so. Alexia. With that simple word, he claimed part of her and for an unwelcome second, she reveled in the feeling. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  But why was he just standing there? He’d called her. At least, she thought he had.

  He crossed his arms. “I assumed when you called my name, you had a purpose.” His gaze grew colder by several degrees. “Unless you merely wanted to discover if I would jump when you did so. It is not a game in which I wish to participate. Kindly exercise your royal supremacy on either Bixby or Margaret. They will be more than happy to oblige.”

  Right. She’d called him. Rats.

  What could she say? Sorry about that. I wasn’t wielding my newfound powers, I was standing dumbfounded at the way you said my name. It got me all flustered and I forgot I’d called you first.

  He glared at her. He’d never believe her. Or else he’d laugh at her. That would be much worse.

  “I’m sorry.” It came out in a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for my comments and behavior this morning. I was spiteful and rude. I’m sorry.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, and he uncrossed his arms. “There is no need to apologize.”

  She inhaled. “Of course there is. I insulted your family and your standing. I won’t be able to rest tonight without having your forgiveness.”

  “I would not want to be the cause of another restless night, my lady. Please, think of it no more. I assure you, I will not.”

  “Things are…not as formal in my time,” she said. “The use of first names is common and titles
such as ‘Lord’ are not used. I’m afraid what I meant as a joke this morning came across as conceited and self-serving.”

  He studied her before answering, his expression revealing nothing. “I informed you ‘Lukas’ was acceptable and I meant it. Is there anything further?”

  Yes. Say my name. She shook her head.

  “Then I bid you goodnight.” He bowed just a bit, almost as if to mock her, then headed up the stairs.

  She felt all alone.

  ****

  For the second night in a row, Lexy found herself tossing in an unfamiliar bed. The unease she felt after the conversation with Lukas went beyond his use of her name. She’d wanted absolution for her earlier behavior, and it had not been offered.

  With a sigh, she burrowed deeper into bed. As tired as she felt, it shouldn’t be so hard to drift off. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep but instead found herself thinking of Lukas. What could he have been thinking to respond to her apology the way he had?

  It had been prideful, she decided, to assume all could be forgiven and forgotten with a few words. She’d have to work harder to show her true self to Lukas.

  ****

  According to the map Ebbe had shown her the night before, they were to ride southeast into England before meeting Lukas’s father. From their current location, they had a two-day ride. Lexy regarded the horse Ebbe held by the reins with great apprehension the next morning. Her legs balked at the idea of riding again, and Ebbe had no trouble sensing her hesitation.

  “We shall make it to Hadden House this afternoon, my lady,” he said quietly. “We will be able to rest there a few days before meeting the Duke of Culberton.”

  Such a thoughtful man. “Thank you, Ebbe. I’m quite certain my legs would fall off if I had to ride much longer.”

  “It is an easier time, is it not? This time you were sent to?”

  “You could say that.”

  He nodded before mounting his own horse and leading the way.

  Riding a horse, while being a slower means of transportation, did give one plenty of time to think and play mental games. Ebbe and Margaret rode ahead of her, talking in low tones, and Lexy’s mind spun in crazy circles.

  What kind of car would Ebbe drive? She closed her eyes. A large, white, boxy foreign car. Something safe and secure, much like the man himself. Margaret, she decided, would drive a lime green compact car. Somewhere under that proper exterior lurked a funloving sort, she was certain.

  Now what would Lukas drive? She tried to picture him in a red convertible, but the image wouldn’t come. No, not a sports car. He’d go for something more solid, but daring. An SUV. She giggled. A large, black SUV.

  “Is something humorous, Princess Alexia?” Lukas said from behind her.

  Her heart raced at his use of her name. Since Lukas had kept to himself the day before, she assumed he would always do so. Apparently, she had been wrong. “No, I was thinking of my time. How different it is.”

  Close enough to the truth. She wasn’t in a mood to explain cars, or why she thought an SUV would suit him over a sports car.

  “You will forgive me,” he said. “But this is your time, is it not? The other was just where you were raised and lived for awhile.”

  She rolled his words over in her mind. Her hands trembled at his nearness, but she did her best to ignore them. “That’s an interesting way to look at it. But I don’t know if I can consider this ‘my time.’ I don’t plan on staying here.”

  A look of surprise crossed his face, but he recovered almost at once, his expression falling once more into cold indifference. “What would you do if you went back?”

  The question caught her off-guard. Did he care what she wanted to do? It didn’t fit with the impression she had of him. “I had plans to attend seminary school. I was going to earn an advanced degree in counseling.”

  He looked as if she’d grown a second head. “You were going to school?”

  That was more in line with the impression she had. She glanced at him sideways. “In my time, women often go to schools. It’s a different time.”

  “Doubtless,” he replied dryly, before seeming to remember her other comment. “What does one who studies counseling do?”

  She perked up, always thrilled to talk about her job. “I would help abused women. Work with them to overcome the past, giving them hope for the future. Maybe share the love of Christ.”

  Her second sentence was obviously lost on him, for he never got past the first. “Help abused women? What is there to help? If a man wishes to abuse a woman, what are you to do?”

  She’d been right, after all. The place was filled with highhanded males. “Women are people too, Lukas! Just because someone’s a woman doesn’t mean she’s destined to be under a man’s control.”

  “Of course it does.”

  “Not where I come from. In my time, women can do anything they want and are legally protected from the abuses of men. Husbands included.”

  He appeared to be giving her words some thought. “This is not only your opinion? It is a widely-held concept?”

  She could not believe she was attempting to explain equal rights to a sixteenth-century male. Especially him. “Yes, it is a widely-held concept. Believe it or not, there will come a time when women are not treated as property, but equals!”

  “Equals? How absurd.”

  “No, you’re the absurd thing in this conversation.” She gathered her reins in one hand, the other waving in the air. “Do you honestly believe it acceptable to treat a woman any way you choose, simply because she’s a woman?”

  “No gentleman would answer that question in the affirmative.” His voice was low, but commanding. “It is the law that would disagree with you.”

  “Then I’m thankful I was brought up in a time with more regard for human life.”

  “A time you already agreed was less formal, and from all accounts one that found immodest dress acceptable.”

  Back to that, were they? Unbelievable. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I dressed. It was normal and accepted.”

  He rolled his eyes and spoke with care, as if explaining something difficult. “You yourself stated that just because something is accepted does not make it correct.”

  “You’re wrong about the way I dress.”

  “That would be your opinion.”

  She glared at him one more time before spurring her horse ahead to Ebbe. “Irritating, self-serving, male chauvinist pig!” she mumbled as she caught up with the older man.

  “Sparring with Reynard again?” Ebbe asked, humor sparkling in his expressive eyes.

  She slowed her horse and sighed. “I can’t seem to hold a civil conversation with him to save my life.”

  He laughed. “He does seem to have that effect on people.”

  She bit back her reply and thought about the situation. Dealing with difficult people was something she was used to. One would think she would have been able to handle herself better. What was it about Lukas that caused her to be so defensive about everything? Instead of addressing the problem, though, she changed the subject. “I’d like to tell you what I know of Dresdonia, and you can let me know if I’m way off-base.”

  “Off-base?”

  “It’s just an expression that means I want to tell you what I’ve heard about Dresdonia, and you tell me if I’m wrong or right.”

  “They teach of this place in your time?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

  “It’s a legend in my time. It wasn’t taught as history.”

  “So our land is to be reduced to legend? Nothing more than silly stories?”

  Margaret’s words from the previous night about Ebbe working for over twenty years to restore their country came back to her. “I’m sorry, but I thought it best to tell you the truth.”

  His lips tightened into a thin line and she decided to let him lead the conversation. Best to let him tell her the truth of her homeland instead of her upsetting him with the fantasy she learned from C
ara.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes. It seemed as though even the birds respected the silence, for she heard nothing beyond the steady plodding of the horses’ hooves. She glanced over her shoulder, but Lukas and Margaret were some way behind them. So intent was she on listening to the silence, Ebbe’s voice startled her when he started speaking.

  “King Torsten knew we would not be able to withstand Severon. As I mentioned before, it was the reason you were sent to the future. Severon is known as the rightful ruler of Dresdonia, but only because no one knows you are alive. Once it is known, we can gather forces and overthrow him. He has become lazy the last few years.” It seemed Ebbe grew taller in his saddle. “We will overthrow him, Princess Lexy. We will do it together, and they will teach our history in your time.”

  He seemed so certain. She decided it was not the time to tell him she would be returning to the future as soon as possible.

  ****

  When they stopped for lunch, Ebbe was lost in his own thoughts, much as he’d been since the conversation between them earlier. Margaret took her cue from Ebbe and was even quieter. And Lukas, she thought, well Lukas was Lukas.

  He stood nearby untying the saddlebags. Since much of the morning had passed quietly, she’d had time to go over their earlier conversation. Once again, she felt guilty for the way she’d talked to him. He was from a different time, and his opinions had been formed from the current thoughts of those times. She couldn’t hold it against him.

  Acting bolder than she felt, she approached him. “Lukas?”

  He turned in surprise. “My lady, what an unexpected honor.”

  She ignored his sarcasm and took a deep breath. “I believe I have once again insulted you and need to apologize for my earlier behavior.”

  He dropped the bag he’d been holding and gave a deep sigh. “Do you make it a normal practice to spend every other conversation apologizing for what you spoke in the earlier one?”

  She swallowed the remark dancing on her tongue and told the truth instead. “Only with you.”