Collection 1 Page 5

  Ha, poor eyesight indeed! snarled that inner voice.

  This time I agree with you, answered Zoë before she realized that she had replied to that imaginary voice. Stay out of my thoughts; she again warned her intrusive conscience.

  Albert noticed that the princess was not paying attention and the servant repeated herself. “Come child.”

  “Zoë!” he groused.

  “Huh?” She snapped out of her thoughts and he saw her face heat. “Oh, sorry,” she murmured.

  “Go with the woman, I shall call for ye later,” he intoned.

  When Zoë was escorted out of the longroom, Garfield asked, “Pray tell, why she is dressed in boy’s clothes?”

  Albert shrugged. “’Tis a long story, uncle, one I shall tell ye after a goblet of ale.

  He needed a drink or two. Traveling with that maiden was torture. She had been vulnerable on their journey without a chaperone. Zoë had conversed with him and he knew if he had let down his guard, it would’ve been a mistake. He had feigned indifference only so that he would not ravish her like an uncouth field hand. He loved her and wanted her respect. Beside, he had promised himself to give her time to get to know him better and for the spell to wear off.

  He swallowed his first drink in one gulp. Satan’s teeth! When had he become such a saint? He had conducted himself like a gentleman and how did she thank him. Ha! She smiled sweetly for his uncle, a smile that should have been meant for him. The second goblet of ale quickly followed the first. Women! He’d never understand the lot!

  Zoë was led up stone stairs to a second floor landing. The room was cold with crude furniture. Frayed tapestries hung on the walls. Egad, she thought.

  What did you expect the TajMahal? nagged the pesky voice. I lived in a small cottage that was not as great as this place. I cleaned and cooked and---

  Sheesh! Stop bugging me, Snowy. Yeah, I know who you are. Don’t play coy with me or play the martyr. Living with seven men in my day makes you a---

  Look! You took my body so you better get used to my opinions. And I know what you are insinuating. I am as pure as the driven snow, hence, the name!

  Zoë rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Oh, gimme a break!”

  “Sorry, mistress,” murmured the servant. “’Tis a little chilly, I shall put more wood onto the fire and soon the place shall be warm enough to bathe. Ye can relax until the young wench comes to dress ye.”

  “What? Oh, no I wasn’t talking to… Never mind,” Zoë interrupted herself realizing that the woman had assumed she was talking to her about the room‘s condition. She quickly changed the subject and inquired, “What’s your name?”

  “’Tis Trudy, mistress.” She turned and left.

  Needless to say, Zoë felt like a fish out of water. Shrugging, she went to the window and looked out. She could see as far as an eye could see, taking in the beautiful green rolling hills as they stretched before her and she immediately felt homesick. I spy with my little eye…She recalled the game she had played with her niece. This was crazy. Why couldn’t she wake up from this?

  “My lady,” a voice snapped her from her troublesome musings. Turning, a young girl and two lads pulled in a large wooden barrel. Ohmahgaud! The need to protest bubbled up from within her and she quickly opened her mouth to speak, “Sheesh, you expect me to bathe in that?” but she managed to swallow the words in time.

  The girl curtsied and informed Zoë that she was her personal maid and said that her name was Elaina. She in turn informed the girl that she could manage dressing herself. But upon seeing the maid’s crestfallen look, she decided to go with the silly custom. Again she thought, when in Rome… She apologized and Elaina smiled prettily.

  Buckets of water were then brought into the room and poured into the tub. Soon the bath was ready and when the boy’s left the door was closed. It was then that Elaina helped Zoë undress. Now feeling exhausted, she sank into the warm water and sighed in delight. As the maid washed her hair she asked the servant her age. The girl’s hand stilled for a moment before she answered. “Seventeen seasons, my lady.”

  “Well, Elaina I can use a friend. Where I come from, we call each other by our Christian name, no formality, like; my lady, or mistress. Call me Zoë.”

  Elaina gasped. “Oh, nay, my lady, I can lose my head if---”

  “Pshew, nonsense,” she snapped, and then apologized seeing the frightened expression on the servant’s countenance. She was pretty with big, light blue eyes and hair the color of honey blonde. “I’ll tell you what. When we’re alone I give you permission to call me Zoë.” She put a finger to her lips and whispered, “It will by our secret. What do you say?”

  Elaina looked about as if to make sure no one was around. She smiled nervously and declared truthfully, “I like ye, my la… err, Zoë and I would like us to be friends,” she said companionably. “Twould be nice to have someone my age to talk with. Ileana is the only other female here who is a few years my senior, but she is too high ‘n’ mighty to be considered a friend. Besides, she is of royal blood and one does nae befriend one’s servants, even if one has the mind too.”

  “Has her nose a bit up in the air,” declared Zoë, her voice laced with laughter. “Good. We are now buddies.” She stuck out her hand. “We’ll shake on that.”

  Elaina stared speculatively and handed her a towel thinking that’s what the she wanted. Just then the elder servant appeared with a handful of rainbow gowns draped over her arms. “Ileana is visiting a friend and his majesty Garfield ordered me to let ye pick out any one of her gowns,” she informed Zoë.

  “Oh,” Zoë gasped. “I don’t know. She’s not here to give permission. Maybe she…”

  Trudy snorted. “That child is spoiled. Ileana can spare a few measly gowns,” she mumbled. Zoë noticed Elaina try to smother a giggle and received a stern look from Trudy for her effort. She knew better and kept quiet. When Trudy left Elaina laughed and picked out a soft pink gown for her to wear.

  “’Tis perfect with yer dark hair, my.., um, Zoë. Methinks ’twill look better on ye than that spoiled Ileana,” Elaina declared honestly.

  “I’m all agog,” Zoë said with a wide smile. They both erupted in a fit of laughter and Zoë felt ten times better than she had in days.

  Elaina couldn’t compliment her enough on how beautiful she looked in yards of flowing silk. Soft material clung to every curve making Zoë feel sensual and a bit naughty. A gold rope, which was tied around her small waist hung to her knees. Tiny gold bells tinkled when she moved, and she wondered if they were there as a detection device on her whereabouts. Gold bracelets clasped her upper arms and jeweled earrings dangled from her earlobes. Slightly small satin slippers adorned her feet, so soft that her crushed toes went unnoticed. Now, she really felt like a true princess!

  Her transformation didn’t stop there. Elaina combed Zoë’s hair and braided it into a long plait, then wound it around her head like a crown. Tiny flowers were intertwined, adding to the majestic look. When she gazed into the highly polished silver plate she blinked back at the reflection and swore that she definitely was dreaming. The face staring back was not hers.

  “Pinch me,” she exclaimed.

  Elaina hugged the brush to her small breasts. “The prince and all the men will nae stop ogling ye. Ye’re the most breathtaking creature.”

  The compliment made Zoë blush and she was unable to believe her eyes. “Oh my, this is not a magical mirror, is it?”

  “Nay, ye are a beauty,” Elaina insisted. The knock on the door made her jump and she quickly opened it and made a deep curtsy. “Yer highness, my lady is ready. By yer leave, my prince.” Without further ado, she backed out of the chamber with a smile seeing the astonished look on the prince’s face.

  Albert was speechless for many seconds and Zoë almost laughed aloud at the expression on the man’s countenance. She composed herself and cloaked in dignity she glided forward. Because she was dressed the part, she might as well play the part to the hilt and held her
head high. With a deep curtsy, mimicking Elaina, she said, “My lord,” and smiled solely for his benefit.

  Their eyes locked, time stood still and she could feel electricity pass through them. She suspected that he would kiss her, and if he didn’t then she would surely take the initiative and put a wet lip lock on his sensuous mouth, to be sure. All she wanted to do was suck face with the handsome prince and she did without hesitation.

  He broke the kiss abruptly and Zoë was perplexed and hurt.

  “What’s wrong?” her voice cracked.

  Eyes still glazed with desire, she knew he lied when he rasped, “There is naught wrong, my uncle awaits. Come,” he took her arm a little more forceful than he intended.

  Her head swimming from the kiss, she felt his reaction, and he was as hot for her as she was for him. So what cooled his desire so quickly? This was not a normal man, she thought.

  Ye’re too forward, advised the pesky voice.

  Nonsense, a girl must do what a girl must do to show her interest. In my era you kiss a man like I just did and….

  I’m tired of that excuse. Ye’re in my time and ye must act accordingly.

  Zoë wanted to snort but answered her inner thoughts instead. Look missy conscience. As long as I’m in this body I’ll do as I please!

  Tis my body ye’re in remember.

  “Oh, bite me!” she snapped at the nagging voice. Sheesh! This was like that old movie, The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and she was the body snatcher.

  “Beg ye pardon,” said Albert a bit startled at her outburst.

  “Sorry, just thinking aloud.” Her neck felt scorched with combined anger and mortification.

  Albert figured that the maiden was annoyed at him, but let the matter drop. When Zoë’s lips had touched his, he suddenly snapped out of his trance. He wrapped his arms around her slim waist, feeling how soft she was. Her mouth opened to his like a flower to the morning sun and just as warm. Her fragrance assailed his senses and the evidence of his lust was on the rise. Zoë rubbed herself against his arousal and he had groaned deep in his throat. This was no shy damsel he thought and it thrilled him and disappointed him in one heart beat.

  Was it possible that she was not virginal? That idea sobered him quickly. Now, he only wanted to sup in peace and he hoped that Zoë would conduct herself as a lady should. If that was his wish, he should have really kept his mouth shut but he foolishly said, “Pray tell, do ye think ye can be civil at the table, my lady.” The words were uttered more as a statement than a question. “My uncle does nae have the patience that I have with females who can nae control their tongue.”

  Was he kidding? He has as much patience as a moose in heat, thought Zoë. If steam could’ve come out of her ears it would have. Between the little prudish girl in her head and Albert’s condescending lectures, she was about to blow her top. Instead, she smiled and said, “Very well,” with feigned courtesy. She’d try and behave for Garfield’s sake. Something that smelled delicious greeted her at the landing. The serving wenches were scurrying about when they entered the longroom. Garfield was sitting at the head of the trestle table and smiled at Zoë. He licked his lips and winked, she believed the lout was coveting Albert’s intended in his mind.

  Garfield rose and bowed when she sat. “Ye’re like a summer’s warm breeze to this cold stone castle, my dear,” he intoned in a low voice.

  Although, Zoë could see the muscles in Albert’s jaw twitch and she knew that the prince was not too pleased by his uncle’s flirting. Though she didn’t like the man she interned smiled. Good, let him stew for awhile; how dare the prince talk to her like she was a child.

  “Thank you,” she replied sweetly, battering her eye lashes.

  Albert cleared his throat noisily and snapped, “Ye’re a vision my dear. I should have told ye sooner, but I had nae the chance to do so.”

  He was subtly either scolding her or teasing her. She deemed it wasn’t the latter, for the prince has yet show her that he has a funny bone.

  Her smile still plastered on her face, she spoke though her teeth, “Yes, I guess I had acted hastily before. I won’t do that again, my prince,” she said catty.”

  Silence stretched.

  Garfield frowned at her. He probably suspected that there was there trouble in paradise? “Ahem.” he snapped his fingers and a servant poured wine into his goblet. “Tell Martha that the dinner may be served now.” He must have thought by distracting the couple, their little spat would be forgotten for now.

  Boy was he wrong. But he didn’t give up and asked, “So, Zoë, how do ye like yer chambers? I hope everything is to yer approval.”

  “Oh, the room is just fine.” She made her voice honey-sweet, though her thoughts were bitter. “I’m grateful for your hospitality,” she added and gave Albert a hard glare hoping that he’d get her message. By the veins popping in his temple, she believed that he had received it loud and clear!

  Not only do ye plunge the knife, ye twisted it also.

  She held back a groan, growing tiresome with that buttinski.

  If Garfield was mystified by her coolness, he didn’t show it and stepped in again. “Ah, and my daughter’s wardrobe, suites ye fine? I say, that dress of hers looks lovely on ye. I hope that ye do not mind wearing her garments?”

  “Oh, no, sir, I have worn many second hand clothes before. Some of my best buys are at the thrift shops in town.” It was an honest reply but of course it made little sense to the two men. Albert and Garfield looked at each other but the prince merely shrugged.

  “It appears that where my lady comes from, things are a little different than our customs,” Albert managed to say through a clench jaw. He should have known better than try and reason with her. She may look like a princess, but under that gown, she was still a woman possessed. He discovered that fine clothes do not make a princess, over night.

  It was time to take matters into his hands.

  And a good spanking on her cute bottom was worth some consideration also!

  Chapter Eleven

  In one week Zoë was bored. At first it was fun. The novelty of being pampered waited on hand and foot was a pleasure, but now, no more. Even that strange little old lady, with the wart on her pointed chin, who had come to visit her a few times, gave Zoë some enjoyment. And, there was no doubt in her mind that wart face was trying to put a spell on her with some gibberish she spoke. She supposed she should have tossed the witch out on her heels, (or pointed chin,) but the woman entertained her for a spell. Besides, she knew that whatever old wart face did, she was not a believer in witchcraft. She suspected that it was the prince who ordered the witch to see if she could turn her into a demure damsel. Well, he was wasting his coins because she was who she was, and that was that.

  Humph! How often had she told him that he had to take her as she is? In fact, she had cornered him in the hall and asked him just that question. She should have known she’d be wasting her breath. But there was always the chance that it would sink into his thick skull one time.

  Yeah, right! And there was the chance that snakes could tap dance too!

  But, again, Zoë ignored her smart-self and said, “How many times have I told you that I cannot be changed?” The spell that she was under could never be broken, it was love.

  Albert had scratched his chin, waited a second than asked, “Am I to answer that, or was it a rhetorical question?”

  Sheesh, she had wanted to knock him on the head! Instead she began walking away, silently counting.

  One alligator, two alligator, three... oh, what’s the use? Maybe she should tell him the truth that she was from the future and imprisoned in a story book character’s body. Get it over with once and for all!

  Sure, that will go over well, warned that annoying voice. Albert will definitely think ye’re possessed. Besides, when ye leave my body, hopefully, I want the prince and he will nae love me if he believes ye crazy, I mean, I am crazy.

  She has a point, thought Zoë. Sheesh, she hated it
when her conscience was right, in this case, the voice was right.

  Fine, I’ll not tell him, not yet that is.

  Now she paced her room bored out of her skull. The prince had his fencing games, archery matches, and hunting with his falcon, leaving her with plenty of time on her hands. He had suggested that she try her hand in archery, which she poo-pooed at first knowing he was patronizing her but in the end she gave in.

  “Fine!” she had relented.

  So it was set. This morning, she waited patiently until he knocked on her chamber door. Her prince greeted her with a warm smile and she returned the gesture. He then escorted her to the yard and handed her the bow and arrow. Zoë fumbled with the arrow until Albert helped but when she went to let it fly, she found that she couldn’t draw the string more than an inch or so.

  Crap, it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

  “Here, let me help ye,” offered Albert and stood behind her. He drew back the bow with ease. “Now, let go.” She did and the arrow hit the bull’s eye. So much for archery, she sadly thought. Even with his help, she felt the strained muscle in her upper arm.

  “Maybe fencing would be more to yer liking,” Albert suggested, not even hiding the grin on his face.

  Zoë held her chin high, searing him with a fiery look.

  So it was that that afternoon she was fitted in fencing garb. But apparently, he meant business. Where’s my mask?” she asked.

  “Mask?”

  “To protect my face,” she hissed.

  “Do nae worry, my princess, for I shall nae make a mark on yer beautiful face,” he winked.

  Now what is that suppose to mean?

  Zoë examined the rapier and to her dismay there was no ball on the tip. She gulped and rasped, “You play with real swords?”

  Albert’s brows drew together. “Of course, how else can one practice?”

  With an inner groan she believed that she would be cut to ribbons.

  Ye better protect this body as if it was ye own, she was clearly warned.

  This is no time to lecture me! And don’t worry because I have a low tolerance to pain.