Collection 1

by Therese A. Kramer

  Albert noticed her sour expression and apparently he mistook it for fear because he told her not to fret, that he would be careful. “Touché,” he said, taking his stance.

  She did likewise. The first blow almost knocked the weapon out of her hand and she felt pain from her wrist up to her shoulder. She tried to recall what she had seen in the Zorro movies, as she was too young to have seen Errol Flynn. She was not given any more time to think when swords clashed again, this time numbing her fingers and nearly spraining her wrist. Only two strikes and the weapon was becoming heavy. Strike three made her rapier fly through the air. Rubbing her aching arm, she sighed; this was not for her either.

  She gave him a sad and defeated look which caused the prince to take pity on her, sweeping her into his embrace. Momentarily stunned, Zoë simply went limp in his arms. She remembered the last time they kissed and although she wanted to remain aloof to his touch, she instantly melted in his arms and her body cleaved to his like gum against the sole of a shoe.

  Albert wanted to keep his distance from the maiden until he was certain that she had been cured, but he was hopefully in love with her, and he’d be damned if he waited any longer to possess her body. So she was an enigma, so be it. He realized that her being different was what attracted her to him in the first place. The woman was no ordinary damsel, and life with her would not be boring, to be sure. Zoë wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his kiss. They became breathless and he ran hot kisses down her neck

  “Possessed or not,” he mumbled, I want ye.”

  “Oh, I’m obsessed all right.” She ran her hand up his hard chest and he groaned. “I want you,” she whispered hotly into his ear.

  “Ahem!”

  Albert stiffened and the princess cursed when he pulled away from her. A guard stood by looking quite contrite and announced, “Sorry, my prince but yer uncle whishes to speak with ye.”

  Like her his shoulders slumped with a heavy frustrated sigh and he snapped, “Tell him I will be there shortly!” He then apologized for his rudeness. One dose nae shoot the messenger, he thought. “Sorry, princess, I will see ye later and maybe we can come up with an idea for ye to spend yer time before the wedding.”

  What would he suggest this time? Zoë was afraid to ask and thought, kitchen duties most likely.

  Nay, ye are betrothed, nae a scullery maid.

  I know I was just having a little pity party for myself. By the way, did you enjoy the kiss?

  I am in yer thoughts only. I can neither feel or taste, or have any kind of emotions.

  “Oh, goody for me,” quipped Zoë aloud.

  “Huh?” the prince gave her a confused glance.

  “Oh, nothing, go see Garfield, I’ll be in my chambers.” Then an idea stuck her. “Can I go riding with you in the morning? Pleeease,” she gave him her most disarming smile.

  “Can ye ride?”

  “Why certainly,” she lied through her teeth. How hard could it be?

  She watched him walk away and admired his tight ass. Ah, as much as she was attracted to the man, she knew in her heart that this wouldn’t work. She didn’t belong here and to save her sanity she would have to escape. But where? Anywhere; she didn’t care anymore.

  Garfield relayed to Albert that there had been some poaching on their land, and he wanted the culprit found. He took some of his men and scoured the countryside, but the thief was not found. He came back to the castle later than he would’ve liked and decided not to bother his lady-love. He slipped a note under her door with his apologies and his declaration of his love.

  Chapter Twelve

  “So,” cackled the queen waking the mirror.

  He yawned, and asked, “Where have ye been?”

  “Are ye spying on me?” she groused. “Did I call ye?”

  He should have known better than to stick his glossy nose where it did nae belong, but he was half awake when he heard her cackling.

  “Sorry, ye majesty, but---”

  “Quiet!” She picked up Curses making the feline meow and show her claws. The queen hissed back and the cat purred. “If ye must know everything, I had disguised myself as a scullery maid and had been spying on the lovers. We must nae let things run smoothly,” she smiled wickedly.

  “We” he said.

  “Nae, me, ye buffoon! I found a note the prince left the girl and tossed it the brazier in the longroom before leaving to return here.”

  “Oh,” he gulped. “Sorry, ye highness. Well, I’ll leave ye to yer mischief.” He yawned. “If ye need me, ye know where to find me,” he quickly disappeared wishing he could drown out the queen cursing. He shutter to think what she had planned.

  If he could only have been made into just a simple piece of window glass like his cousin.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the morning, Zoë wasn’t sure if she felt relief or angered that the prince never came to her room last night. But it matter not, she was looking forward to her ride with him, so she put that thought in the back of her mind.

  Prince Albert escorted her to the stalls. She had planned to wear her boy’s clothes but someone put the kibosh on that and took them away. Dressed in a simple gown, she stared up at the horse. It was not as big as King, and he told her that her animal was a palfrey, a lady’s mount.

  She smiled sweetly, although underneath she was seething. He never made any explanations on why he had not come to her chambers last night, and she’d be damned if she’d let him know she cared one way or another. She had gone to bed convincing herself that it was better this way. If they had made love, she knew she could have never gone through with her plans. No, this was the way it should be, but when he showed up at her door looking quite charming, she knew she had been lying to herself.

  Zoë wanted him more than ever, but he never said a word and it made her wonder if he had visited a serving wench instead. And if he did, he would be a fool to admit it to her. The prince might be arrogant, chauvinistic and more, but he was not an idiot. Well, it was his loss, not hers; and for sure, she believed it. And for sure she believed in Santa Claus and his flying reindeer.

  Albert was anxious to go riding with his lady-love that morning. “Ye look lovely, my sweet,” he said when she had answered the door. Her brows rose in appreciative speculation and she nodded giving him a smile, but he was sure that it did not reach her eyes. Was she disappointed in him because he never came to her room last evening-tide?

  That thought made his heart skip a beat making his hopes run high. Well, surely he could make it up to Zoë with the present. What lady didn’t like a gift?

  “Her name is White Willow,” he declared.

  The princess patted the horse’s nose. “You are a pretty one, White Willow. And I’m sure we will be friends.” She turned and said out the side of her mouth, “She is gentle, isn’t she?” her voice sounded hopeful.

  Albert chuckled. “Aye, she is; ‘tis the reason I am giving her to ye as a wedding gift.” Earlier, he had instructed his guards to ride a distance behind them, wanting some privacy. He trusted his men to be discreet.

  Her mouth dropped and Zoë appeared speechless, something that never happened before. She nodded and Albert placed his finger under her mouth and smiled. “Ye’re pleased.” It was a statement. He then helped his princess up and handed her the reins. He quickly mounted King and kicked the horse’s side and trotted forward.

  Zoë felt awful. Here she was planning to run away and he had given her an expensive gift. No one had ever given her anything so wonderful before. Gulping, she told herself that she had to steady her emotions and not get all gooey over this. It was only a horse, oh, but what a beautiful creature. She had always wanted a horse, as did any kid. Well, he was centuries to late and she was no longer a kid!

  “Giddy-up,” she clicked her tongue.

  Nothing.

  Clearing her throat she tried again. “Git!” she snapped the reins.

  How hard can it be?

  Her words came back to b
ite her on the ass making her frown. A shrill of a whistle put her horse into motion but she was so startled she dropped the reins. White Willow galloped full speed ahead. Luckily, she had the mind to grab onto its full mane and held on for dear life. Her scream rent the air and her eyes squeezed tight.

  How hard can it be?

  Zoë feared that she was going to die again. How ironic but then, maybe this would

  be the end of her predicament! Without warning an arm snaked around her middle and she was lifted off the mount. Her eyes remained closed and she clung to a hard body. With his arm secured tightly around her waist, she relished his closeness and wondered if it was her heart or his banging against her chest. Perhaps both.

  “Sorry,” apologized Albert. “Ye said that ye can ride.”

  Stiffening her spine and looking him in the eye, she snapped, “Well, I fibbed, so sue me!” She was much angrier at herself for being caught in a falsehood. And how in heaven would she escape now when she couldn’t even handle a horse. Oh, well, it was a stupid idea, anyway.

  Err, sour grapes? she rebuked inwardly.

  “Ye could have broken that lovely neck,” he scolded, breaking into her self-pity moment.

  “Humph! Well, maybe you shouldn‘t have whistled so unexpectedly!” She tried to stay mad but his mouth was too close. The kiss was expected and accepted. Zoë would never get used to the thrill of it.

  It deepened, and her pulse quickened.

  His hand traveled to her breasts and the heat between her legs grew making her head swim.

  It was wonderful.

  This is wrong, warned the voice.

  Not now, go away!

  Albert’s fingers kneaded a nipple through the fabric of her gown and a heartfelt moan escaped by both. Zoë wanted more, and the hell with the consequences!

  Stop this, ’tis indecent.

  Bah, you may be a prude, but not I, she argued back. She was going to enjoy his touch but her inner voice was not going to relent.

  ’Tis my body and I will nae let ye do what ye please with it!

  Oh, bugger it! Zoë groaned but not from pleasure.

  The prince mistook her moaning as intent to go further and pulled the ribbon on her bodice to open the gown.

  He sucked in a breath declaring, “Ye’re so beautiful.”

  She gasped and cried, “Nooo!” There was no mistaking the hurt and confusion in his light eyes.

  “Nay? I thought ye enjoyed the kiss as much as I. I do nae like to be teased, my lady!” He warned sternly, keeping his voice even.

  Her blood drained from her in a rush and she felt her neck heat with mortification as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh, I did enjoy it, but---.”

  “But what?” Ire flashed in Albert’s eyes.

  Zoë sighed, how could she make him understand something she had no concept about herself. This was ludicrous! She craved for his touch, his love, but where could it lead? She’d wake up and it would all be but a memory, a painful one. Besides, that nagging voice was not about to let her enjoy his loving. Just her luck she had to be possessed by a woman with scruples.

  “Sorry,” she said remorseful when she jumped off the horse. Albert squirmed uncomfortably in the saddle. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one miserable.

  “Nay, it is I who should apologize to ye princess, I had forgotten my place. ’Tis just that I love you so much and I find it difficult keeping my hands off yer lovely body.” He cleared his throat roughly before saying grimly, “Wait here I shall retrieve White Willow. Hell’s fire,” he hissed turning his mount.

  She could cause a saint to lose its patience and he had no idea what she was talking about, accusing him a making the mare run off before, but let it pass; he had more important things on his mind at that moment. Like he wanted to kiss her senseless but then in another moment he wanted to strangle that pretty neck. Lust substituted his last emotion very quickly and he kissed her. God’s breath, of all the damsels in this country, he had to fall in love with her. He better marry her soon because he was losing control of his emotions.

  And old Bertha had told him that she tried her strongest spells on the girl, but to no end, she was still unlike any female he had ever known.

  As the prince rode off, Zoë was deep in her own thoughts.

  Sheesh, that little speech certainly made her feel awful. The prince proclaimed his dying loved for her and found her body beautiful. Crap, no man had ever said such sweet things to her and it had to be a man in her dreams.

  “Damn you!” She shook her head violently wishing she could expel Snowy from her thoughts. “Wake up!” she ordered herself, and then sat on a boulder feeling so forlorn. Sighing dramatically, Zoë had the oddest feeling as if someone was watching her. She looked about rubbing her arms suddenly feeling quite chilly.

  Boy, this certainly sucks!

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the….”

  Oh, oh, gasped the looking glass. “Sorry yer highness but….”

  Suddenly a beautiful girl’s face appeared in the mirror.

  “Nooo! She is still alive! But how?” the queen clutched her throat.

  “Well, the prince saved her again,” answered the mirror sheepishly.

  “Augghhh!” The queen ranted and raved, waving her hands wildly in the air. “What will it take to rid myself of that chit?”

  “Um, I d-do nae know,” stammered the glass.

  “Oh, ye dimwit! I was nae asking for yer advice! When I want your advice, I’ll give it to you!”

  “Whew, good,” he mumbled. Wicked is as wicked does, he thought. And he made the reflection of the girl vanished. The looking glass knew better than to hang around. He knew for certain that there was the risk of being smashed, since he had been threatened many times in the past. He then snorted at his foolish thoughts because he had no other choice but to hang around, so he simply vaporized in that dark void. But he could still hear and vaguely see the evil queen paced telling herself that the next time she would do it right.

  She picked up Curses and scratched behind its ear. The cat purred, snuggling into the queen’s bosom. “Aye,” she smiled wickedly, “this time I shant fail!”

  The wicked queen turned not hearing the mirror sigh.

  I’m not being paid enough. Hell, I’m not being paid at all!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zoë sat by the oval window over looking the valley. She sighed, thinking about the wedding that was fast approaching. She was certain that Snowy was thinking about it also and every time she looked at the prince with longing, that nagging voice read her the riot act! What a bummer! You are what’s known as, “a goody two shoes,” she’d continued to inform that pesky voice, but alas, her answer was always the same, it wasn’t her body. So maybe it was time for her to give into her conscience and conform into thinking like a woman with virtues, especially since she wasn’t given much of a choice.

  One afternoon, the prince offered to take her along as he went hunting. She hopped at the chance to be outdoors again. Besides, it was too lovely of a day too mull about inside stone walls watching the servants do their chores. Especially this one old crone who seemed to pop up every place she was, except thankfully, for her champers. After awhile she figured that it was probably Albert’s idea to have her watched.

  They traveled into the woods with six of his men. This time he insisted that she ride with him, and she had no objections. He stopped by a stream and told to her sit and enjoy the day; he would return soon. Albert informed her that he would bring back venison and asked if she liked deer meat. She in turn merely frowned, but of course she couldn’t resist in teasing the prince.

  “Do not kill Bambi, please.”

  Albert blinked. “Who?”

  She smiled. “Never mind, he’s not real anyway.”

  He shrugged knowing by now not to question her on her strange comments. Taking his bow and a quiver of arrows from his mount, he told her that he’d be back shortly. Zoë sighed and
wondered if maybe Bambi might be real after all. She gave herself a snort at the ridiculous notion, but then anything was feasible wasn’t it? So far her existence had proved that to be the case. Deciding on not taking any chance, she followed Albert into the woods. A few short steps and a painful cry reached her ears. Pushing back foliage she discovered an injured dog; when black eyes looked up at her, she saw pain there.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, and cautiously stepped closer. It whimpered and licked blood that covered its right paw. “If I help, do you promise not to bite?” she asked more bravely than she felt. It growled deep in its throat, showing sharp fangs, but remained where it lay.

  Zoë gulped. “Now look here, doggie,” she scolded lightly. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying,” she made quotation marks in the air, “don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” He gave her a strange look and she shrugged. “Oh, well, in this case, the hand that helps you.” It whimpered again. “That’s better,” she smiled nervously. “Easy boy,” she whispered thinking that she must be crazy. That canine could easily rip her to shreds in a heart beat.

  Ye’re very brave, Snowy sounded pleased.

  Year right, tell me that when he is chomping on my leg, and that will be his appetizer.

  “Nice doggie,” Zoë inhaled a deep breath and swallowed her fear. She had come this far she might as well finish the task, so she put her fist under his nose as she was instructed once by a friend. God, she prayed he didn’t notice how it shook, but thankfully the dog merely sniffed it. Somewhat relaxed now, she tore a piece of her gown and tied the paw all the time she spoke softly to the animal. In gratitude he licked her hand making her breath rush out in relief and she knew at that moment that they had become good friends.

  “What in hell are ye doing?”

  Zoë winced and didn’t have to turn to know that stern voice anywhere. She stiffened defensively and turned, ready to do battle. She was getting mighty tired of that condescending tone. How could he object to helping one of God’s poor creatures? She turned and there it was again, that scowl.