The Unknown Royal Heir

by Kimber Swan

  “Next time, I’m stapling it on.” I mutter to myself.

  “Better?” He questions me with an arched brow as I turn back around.

  “You think.” My sarcastic remark drips like thick molasses, but then I realize I’m being ungrateful and change my tone. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Shall we go back or do you want to swim for a while?” He says in control of his emotions.

  “I can’t go back there just yet. People saw what happened.” I say aghast.

  “No, they didn’t.”

  I look at him disbelievingly. He grabs my waist turning me towards the shoreline, pointing towards the beach goers.

  “Do you see anyone watching us?” He whispers, his lips gently brushing my ear.

  I shiver.

  “No, but let’s stay here a bit longer, just in case.”

  He chuckles near my ear. His nearness warms me thoroughly despite the cool water.

  “So, you were going to tell me how you and Dante met?”

  We tread water near each other. And just like that the bikini incident is almost forgotten. We spend the next few minutes talking and getting to know each other better. I truly like what I hear. I explained how I visited many foster homes until I finally met Dante in the last home. I went into detail how Dante and I narrowly escaped Mrs. Johnson’s house. I told him all about Scott and Richard tormenting.

  I smile fondly at the memory of our escape. Although at the time we didn’t know when our next meal was coming or if we would have a roof over our head, it was fun for the most part. Daniel looks inquisitively at me when I don’t explain further.

  “Sorry, I was just remembering. Looking back, those were some scary but fun times. Dante has rescued me more times than I can count. But if you ask him, he’ll tell you I saved him. I don’t see that way. We saved each other. He is the most important thing in my life.”

  His countenance changes subtly, like a black cloud hovering overhead darkening his features.

  At some time during our conversation, we started to wade towards the shore unconsciously. He clutches my hand when we reach the beach. The zing halting the conversation. He leads me to the blanket. I wrap myself in one of the two towels waiting for us, glorifying in its sunbaked warmth on my cool skin. He comes over when I shiver and rubs my arms, not only warming my skin but stoking an internal fire at his thoughtfulness. When we settle on the blanket, our conversation continues.

  “So, where was I? Oh, that’s right, foster care.” I say as I lay on my back to absorb the warm rays.

  “Go back. What happened to your parents?” He asks, his voice a little deeper then I’m used to.

  “My mom died of an overdose when I was six and my dad,” I shrug, shielding my eyes from the sun to better see him, “I never knew him. He isn’t listed on my birth certificate.”

  “Didn’t you ever try to find him?” He asks inquisitively.

  “No, but maybe for a short period at some point, I may have wanted to. I have long since forgotten about him. If my mom wanted me to know him, she would have said something, right?”

  We are so engrossed in our conversation that the waiter surprises us when comes over with two plastic plates. I sit up and accept the plate gratefully from him. As I lower the plate to my lap, the delicious aroma infiltrates my sense of smell. The first bite bursts full of spices sending my taste buds to a happy grave.

  “Mmmm, this is good. What is it?” I ask, licking my lips savoring the taste.

  I look to the waiter for an answer, but he ignores me and walks away.

  Daniel answers. “It’s poached salmon with potatoes straight from Scotland. Do you like?”

  I shovel fork full after fork full in my mouth not the least afraid that I probably resemble a pig. He is clearly amused with my hearty appetite as I pause to take a breath and see his smiling face. I smile back, my face flushing with embarrassment.

  “It’s delicious. I’ve never had salmon before or anything this good.” I justify.

  “Wait until you taste dessert.” He says with a twinkle in his eye.

  The rest of our meal is quiet except the occasional moans slipping from me. I usually talk nonstop during meals, but this meal deserved savoring. Daniel must agree because he is as quiet as I am or he’s disgusted by me. When I glance up at him through my lashes, I realize he is smiling, watching me. No hint of disgust anywhere on his face.

  When the waiter comes to take the plates away, Daniel asks. “So, what happened next?”

  “Huh?” I ask slightly confused then I remember what we were talking about.

  I roll onto my stomach, moving my hair off my shoulder to let the sun warm my back and close my eyes. I think back to where our conversation ended before lunch.

  “I never bothered looking for my father. Sometimes I wonder if my mother even knew who he was. Her drug problem started right after I was born from what I have been told by the social workers and her so called friends.”

  I jump slightly at the touch on my back as he leisurely rubs lotion on my back without being asked.

  “Thank you.” I sigh as it feels more like a massage. “If it weren’t for the sweet, old woman living next door, Mrs. Grand, I probably would have starved as an infant. She took me in and raised me like her granddaughter. But when she died, I had to fend for myself. By that time my mother was used to someone else watching me so she was rarely home.”

  His hands stop near my shoulders.

  “What happened here? How did you get burned in such an odd place?” He moves my hair to the side and after a short time he resumes his task. He sits back on his haunches.

  “It’s the birthmark I supposedly inherited from my father. It’s ugly. My mother always made me cover it up because it was so ugly.”

  I sit up wrapping my hands around my legs suddenly feeling self-conscious. I guess after a couple of years of being told there is something ugly about you, you tend to believe it.

  “I always assumed she didn’t know him, that he was a one-night stand. But now that I think about it, how would she know about a birthmark from him if she didn’t know him. Right?”

  I glance at him questioningly.

  He shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “I didn’t know what to believe back then. That’s why I never searched for him. I mean, why bother when there was no one around who could tell me anything. It took me a long time to finally come to terms that if he wanted me, he would have found me.”

  “Did you ever think that maybe he never knew about you? From what you’ve described of your mother it sounds like she may never have told him.”

  His different perspective gives me room for doubt.

  “I did at first. But why not tell him? She could have forced him to give her money or something. I mean she always needed money.”

  “True.” He says thoughtfully. “How did she die?”

  “I found her body blocking the door one day coming back from the park. I wasn’t strong enough to open the door. I had to ask the front desk for help. When the manager opened the door, he told me stay outside. I knew something was wrong because what I could see of her wasn’t moving. He must have called 911 from inside because the police came.”

  “I’m sorry. No six-year-old should go through that.”

  I shrug.

  “You had no other family?”

  “No. My mother ran away from home when she was fourteen. When she wasn’t high, she would tell me snippets about her childhood and how we needed to stick together because we were all the other had.”

  I steal a sideways glance at him and the sympathy in his expression is almost my undoing. I dealt with these emotions a long time ago. Why is he forcing me to relive them now?

  “I don’t need your sympathy. It was a long time ago.”

  He jerks back as if burned.

  “Good thing, I’m not offering it.” He says hurtfully.

  “No, but I can see it in your eyes. I hate that look. For years people gave it to me, until I finall
y stopped telling the story.”

  He cocks his head to the side.

  “I get it. But what you’re seeing is compassion. Compassion for the loss a small child had to endure.” He responds.

  Daniel tries to lighten the mood by smacking my thigh playfully. My body has a different reaction than what he intended. He must recognize it because he inhales sharply. I feel my skin tingle as his gaze roams over my body.

  “Okay, so now that I ruined our picnic with my sob story, tell me about you.” I change the subject, slightly short of breath.

  “There is nothing to tell.”

  I quirk my eyebrow at him. He chuckles.

  “Fine, I can trace my ancestry back to 1100 A.D. There are many skeletons in my closet, most of which happened long before I was born. My mother and father had an arranged marriage, who eventually fell in love. I have two sisters and three brothers. I assumed the title,” he air quotes, “at the age of twenty-two, when my parents were killed. I had to raise my two youngest sisters.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents. How did they die?”

  In a flash, his facial expression changes, but returns to normal just as quickly. The only evidence of his mood change is his cold voice when he finally answers.

  “They were killed in a car accident that was ruled an accident because it couldn’t be proven otherwise. I know they were murdered because the same day they were killed, there was an attempted coup in the palace.”

  “Oh.” Wow, murder and take overs.

  “They were unsuccessful in their attempt, but not before half of the ranking nobles who supported the king were killed. If anything happened to the king, my family inherits the crown.” He pauses as he thinks. “The whole family was supposed to be in the car that day with my parents. If my father had not made last minute changes, our line would have been wiped out.”

  “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t the king’s children or siblings inherit? I mean, I don’t know anything about royalty but it makes sense.” I inquire.

  “Normally that would happen, but the king is the last of his line. He never married and his mother was never able to carry another child to term. The king is not like me.”

  I look at him questioningly again. He stares back as if I should know his meaning.

  “Well…., umm…., you see…, he uh….”

  The stammering and blushing are quite cute. Since I have met him he takes control in all situations, always knowing what to say and how to act. This makes him more human and less God-like.

  “Just spit it out.” I tell him giggling.

  “Well, you see, he doesn’t really like women.” He quietly answers.

  Doesn’t like women? What does that mean? What’s not to like? Then it dawns on me.

  “Oh, you mean he’s gay? Like Dante?” I say bluntly.

  “Shh.” He looks around like someone is watching, then whispers, “No one knows for sure except a few, but many suspect. I’ve had to rescue him some nights from some seedy places, when he does in fact actually venture out. Something happened earlier in his rule. Since then he’s been different. He is almost twenty years my senior. My father used to take care of these problems, but when he died it became my responsibility.”

  “I see. But why is it a secret. I mean being gay is such an accepted thing nowadays.”

  “It doesn’t bother most of the nobility, but there are a few fanatics who truly hold to the old ways despite this being what century it is. It was these fanatics, whom we believe, tried the attempted coupe. They have some archaic notions on how the king should run the country.”

  “That’s silly. It happens in most countries. There is always a group who thinks they can do it better.” I counter.

  “I know, but that’s the way they think. Like I said- fanatics. They feel if the king was removed forcefully or killed and no one was there to back his peers, then the crown would fall to one of them. We have never been able to prove any of this which is why these fanatics still hold such power.”

  The way he speaks about this country makes it sound like it is stuck in the Middle Ages.

  “Tell me more about this country of yours. It sounds fascinating.”

  “You would have to see it to believe it. Maybe one day I’ll take you.”

  “That would be a bit out of my price range, but thank you.”

  “Then how did you and Dante pay for those benefit tickets? They were five thousand a seat.”

  My heart skips a beat at the price tag and the lie I perpetrated. But he knows where we live. You would have to be blind to not realize Dante and I don’t have any money. Then why is he asking? Time to come clean. There’s no harm as Dante told me. It didn’t matter how we got the tickets, we had them.

  “Honestly, I found the tickets at work. Someone dropped them and never realized it. We held them until the day before the event. When no one claimed them, Dante and I decided to use them.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did use them otherwise we may never have met.” I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he finished talking. “I wasn’t supposed to attend either. The king was supposed to but he’s become a bit of a recluse since the recent attempts on his life.”

  “Dante said you were there with someone.” I inquire politely.

  He stiffens slightly at the mention of another and says, “I was.”

  That’s it? That’s all he has to say.

  “Who is she?” I ask, trying to control my rising anger.

  “Not someone I care to speak of.”

  “You can’t tell me who your date was?”

  He doesn’t respond. Playfully, I push his arm but he looks down at where my hand rests.

  “Daphne, just leave it be.” He replies coldly.

  Okay, I touched a nerve. Who was the woman? Is he married? I promised myself I would never be the other woman. Dammit! Why isn’t he explaining who she is? However, much fun this date was it’s over. I don’t date married men. I must get out before I’m in too emotionally involved.

  Who am I kidding?

  I already am. He is perfect.

  While I hastily cover myself with the discarded clothing and search for my sandals, he asks, “What are you doing?”

  He tries stopping me by placing a hand on my forearm. I look at his hand then at him with fire shooting from my eyes. He removes it quickly as if it caught by the fire.

  “Was that your wife?” I enunciate each word slowly, looking him straight in the eye.

  The muscle in his jaw twitches ever so slightly.

  “Shit!”

  I walk around in a circle, pissed that I allowed myself to fall for a married man.

  “I told myself no matter the circumstances I would never be the other woman to any man. Dammit, how could you place me in that position? I have to go.”

  I grab my sandals and run towards the boardwalk not looking back.

  “Daphne, wait.”

  He grabs my arm, turning me towards him after he catching me on the boardwalk, halting any escape.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  Breathing heavy, I look at him with disbelief.

  “Then what is it?” I shout at him.

  He remains quiet. I wiggle my arm out of his grasp and take a couple of steps away before he stops me again. This time when he grabs my forearm he turns me, slamming me into his body as his lips descend.

  The hand not holding my arm snakes up the back of my neck and fists my hair, leaving no room for escape. I fight the kiss at first; the bitter taste of blood seeping in my mouth. The kiss turns urgent quickly. I feel myself melting into him. The hand holding my forearm drops away to find its place at my lower back. The pressure he applies molds me against his hard manhood. My arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer.

  His tongue swipes across the seam of my lips, asking entry. I open for him, wanting more. The kiss feels like home, but then I remember he already has a home with someone else. I push him away. He looks stunned for a moment then the hurt shows
.

  Fleeing now is not an option. It is a necessity, a matter of survival. My feet are too wobbly to move but I try anyway and nearly fall, leaving him to catch me.

  “I don’t need your help.” I push away. “Leave me alone. Go back to your wife or whatever she is.”

  “Daphne, don’t.” His tone is angry.

  “Don’t what, Daniel? Don’t make a scene? Don’t leave? Don’t what? You don’t get to order me around.” I say, feeling my face flush with anger.

  “Don’t walk away. I know you felt it. Please trust me. She is not my wife.” He pleads, his voice cracking at the end.

  “Then who is she?”

  He remains quiet despite everything I’ve just said.

  “I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I thought we may have had something here, but I was wrong. Very wrong! Do me a favor? Lose my number.”

  I walk away with my head held high and my back ramrod straight.

  “NO!” He roars. “Don’t walk away from me.”

  My step falters at his tone. Excuse me, but who does he think he is? Just because he is considered royalty in his country, doesn’t mean he is anything here. He is no one here in America. I continue on my way. My gait steadier with each step I take. I expect him to stop me at any moment, but he doesn’t.

  At the end of the boardwalk, I turn around but he is no longer there. Feeling disappointed, I find the nearest bench and drop down on it, burying my head in my hands, rocking back and forth. What am I going to do? I could explain what happened to a cab driver or conductor on the railroad then have Dante meet us with money. However, there is no telling what Dante will do and this may set him off.

  Shit, how do I get home? Pretending there is nothing wrong and getting behind Daniel again on his bike is more than I can handle. Daniel is right though, I felt it. The kiss was too much for me. I’m afraid of what I may do on the ride home if I have to wrap my arms around his waist.

  The close roar of a motorcycle startles me. I look up sharply to see it coming towards me. It stops in front of me on the boardwalk. The people around us jump back, afraid to be run over by the crazy guy on the bike. A couple not far away take out their phones to take pictures.

  “You need a ride home. Get on.” Daniel says emotionless.