“There is no boat. We’re stuck here together for three more days.”
“But I can’t stay here. People will be looking for me.”
“Could we discuss this another time? Much as I dislike the idea, you have to come back to my camp. Get up and follow me.”
She stood, using the tree for support. “You must walk behind me.”
“Lady, I don’t know how you’ve lived so long without somebody murdering you. Go ahead, then, lead.”
Immediately, she realized she had no idea which way to go. “You may go first,” she said graciously.
“How kind you are,” he replied, the first decent thing he had said to her.
He turned away and she waited until he was several feet ahead then followed. It would not do to get too close to him. He didn’t seem to be a trustworthy man. She followed him a few yards behind then the rain obscured him and she lost sight of him. She stood absolutely still and waited, willing even her eyes not to blink against the driving rain.
He returned after several long minutes. “Stay close to me,” he shouted over the rain. Shouted unnecessarily loudly, she thought. He turned away then looked back and grabbed her hand.
Aria was horrified. He had touched her after she had told him he could not. She tried to pull away from him but he held fast.
“You may not have any sense but I do,” he yelled, and began to pull on her arm.
Really, she thought, the man was too insolent for words. He plunged ahead, hanging on to Aria’s hand as a dog holds on to a bone. Once in a while he shouted orders at her, telling her to duck, and one time he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the ground. He expected her to crawl through the underbrush! She tried to tell him he had to cut the growth away but the man didn’t listen to her. She was faced with being dragged, on her stomach, through the swampy land or crawling. Disgusting sort of non-choice.
When they at last reached the clearing, it took a moment to get her bearings. She was completely disoriented after her treatment by this man. She stood in the rain and rubbed her wrist where he had held her. Was this where this man lived? There was no house, nothing but a few crates and a piece of black fabric forming a little tent. No one in Lanconia lived this poorly.
“In there,” he shouted, pointing to the piece of fabric draped over tree branches.
It was the most humble type of shelter, but it was dry. She knelt and crawled inside. As she was wiping water from her face, to her utter disbelief, the man crawled in beside her. This was too ridiculous even for an American.
“Out,” she said, and there was an edge to her voice. “You will not be allowed—”
He put his face nose to nose with hers. “Listen to me, lady,” he said as quietly as he could over the rain. “I’ve had more than enough from you. I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m hungry, I got a bullet wound in my arm, I got cuts on top of burns, and you’ve ruined the first vacation I’ve had in this war. You got a choice: you can stay in here with me or you can sit out there in the rain on your royal ass. That’s it. And so help me, if you say one more word about what I’m allowed or not allowed to do, I will take great pleasure in throwing you out.”
Aria blinked at him. So far, America was not what she had imagined. Perhaps she had better try a different tack because this man seemed to have an extraordinarily violent nature. Perhaps he would begin shooting at her as the other men had done. “May I have some dry clothes?” she asked, and gave him the smile she gave to one of her subjects who had just pleased her.
The man groaned, twisted toward a corner of the tarp, and opened a metal chest. “I got navy whites and that’s it.” He tossed them into her lap, then turned away, lay down on the rubber floor, stretched out, pulled a blanket over himself, and closed his eyes.
Aria had difficulty hiding her shock. Was all of America like this? Full of men who abducted one, then shot at one, other men who called one honey and tossed knives at one’s hand? She would not cry, under no circumstance would she cry.
She knew it was no use trying to unbutton her dress. She had never undressed herself and had no idea how to do it. She clutched the dry clothes to her and lay down, as far away from the man as possible, but she could not control the shivering.
“Now what?” he muttered, and sat up. “If you’re afraid I’ll attack you, don’t be. I’ve never found a woman less interesting than you.”
Aria kept shivering.
“If I go outside in the rain, will you get out of that piece of sail you’re wearing and into dry clothes?”
“I don’t know how,” she said, clenching her teeth to still the chattering.
“Don’t know how to what?”
“Would you mind not shouting at me?” she said, sitting up. “I have never undressed myself. The buttons…I don’t know how…” The man’s mouth fell open. Really, what did he expect? What did he think royal princesses did anyway? Did he think they polished silver and darned stockings? She sat up straighter. “I have never needed to dress myself. I’m sure I could learn. Perhaps if you told me the rudiments I—”
“Turn around,” he said, then shoved her shoulder until her back was turned to him. He began unbuttoning her dress.
“I think that your touching of me is more than I can allow—what was your name again?”
“J. T. Montgomery.”
“Yes, Montgomery, I believe—”
He turned her around to face him. “Lieutenant Montgomery of the United States Navy, not just Montgomery like your damned butler, but lieutenant. Got that, Princess?”
Did this man shout every word he spoke? “Yes, of course. I understand that you wish to use your title. Is it hereditary?”
“Better than that, it’s earned. I got it for…for buttoning my own shirt. Now, get out of that dress—or do you want me to undress you?”
“I can manage.”
“Good.” With that, he turned away from her and lay back down.
Aria kept watching him as she removed her dress. She didn’t dare remove her several layers of wet underwear, so she was still uncomfortable as she pulled his white uniform on over her head—and that took some concentrated effort to figure out. All in all, it took quite some time before she was able to lie down.
The rubber ground cover was damp, her underwear was soggy against her skin, and her hair was wet. In minutes she was shivering again.
“Damn,” Lieutenant Montgomery said, then rolled over, flung the blanket over her, and pulled her to him, her back against his front.
“I cannot possibly—” she began.
“Shut up,” he said. “Shut up and go to sleep.”
His big body felt so warm that she didn’t offer any more protests. Her last thoughts before she fell asleep were a prayer of hope that her mother in heaven would not see her like this.
Chapter Three
WHEN Aria woke in the morning, she was alone. For a few moments she lay still and went over the events of the previous hideous day. She had to get back to the naval base and let the world, and especially her grandfather, know that she was safe. She crawled out of the little shelter and stood. There was a small fire made, but no sign of the man. His uniform, which she wore, hung past her hands, the top reaching to her knees and the cuffs under her feet. Tripping on the thing, she turned back to pull her damp dress from the ground.
It had stopped raining and it was a clear morning that was already beginning to grow hot. The clearing was really very small and hemmed in by the shiny-leaved trees. There was no sign of the man.
Cautiously, after listening for him, she removed the naval uniform.
“It’s too hot for all that underwear,” said the man from behind her.
Aria gasped and clutched her dress to her.
J.T. picked up his white uniform from the ground at her feet, frowning at the stains. “You sure don’t respect other people’s property, lady.”
“Not ‘lady.’ I am a—”
“Yeah, I know. You’re my royal burden, that’s what. Why couldn’t
you have waited until Sunday morning to get yourself shot at? Are you going to put that rig on or stand there and hold it?”
“You must leave here. I cannot dress in front of a man.”
“Princess, you overestimate your charms by a long way. You could parade stark naked in front of me and I wouldn’t be interested. Hurry up and get dressed. You can peel the shrimp.”
It took Aria a moment to recover. “You cannot be allowed to talk to me like that.”
He stopped in front of her then grabbed the heavy black dress she was clutching. As she watched, horrified, he took his knife and slashed away the long sleeves then tore off about a foot of the skirt. He handed it back to her. “That should help. And you ought to throw away about half of that underwear. You pass out from the heat, don’t expect me to rescue you. I learned my lesson the first time.”
He took a fishing net from the ground, walked away, and stood at the end of the little stream.
Aria could not believe what had just happened. Her aunt had told her that Americans were barbarians, that they had no manners, and that the men were not to be trusted, but surely this man was worse than the rest. Surely the whole country was not populated by men like him—men who had no respect for authority.
Ten minutes later Aria was still standing there when he turned back with a net full of wriggling shrimp.
“You waiting for your maid? Here, let me help.” He tossed the shrimp down then grabbed the dress from her and roughly pulled it down over her head, scraping her nose on the buckram in the waist. He jerked it into place, shoved her arms through the now-short sleeves, then buttoned the back with as much gentleness as a shark attacking its prey.
Throughout this, Aria kept her back rigid. This man was insane. This man’s mind was not functioning properly. She moved away from him and sat down on a wooden crate. Her dress was quite short now, to the middle of her calves, and her arms were bare. “You may serve me breakfast now,” she said as politely as possible.
He didn’t look at her but threw the net of squirming shrimp into her lap.
Aria did not scream, did not jump up, did not show the revulsion she felt. “May I borrow your knife?” she whispered.
He turned toward her, a look of interest on his face, and handed her the knife.
A princess ate whatever was put before her, she chanted. One must never offend one’s subjects by refusing to eat their food. She carefully opened the net, her stomach backing up at the sight of the bug-eyed creatures with their many legs. Taking a deep breath to still her churning stomach, she speared a shrimp with the knife point then brought it slowly, ever so slowly to her mouth. A leg touched her lip and she closed her eyes, her stomach rebelling.
The man’s hand clamped down on hers just as she was about to put the shrimp into her mouth. She opened her eyes to look at him.
“Are you that hungry?” he asked softly.
“I’m sure your food is delicious. It’s just that I’ve never eaten it before. I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it just as much as you do.”
He looked at her oddly then took the skewered shrimp and the netful from her. “First they have to be cleaned then cooked.”
She watched as he dumped the load of shrimp into a pot of boiling water.
“Have you never seen a shrimp before?”
“Of course, but they have been served to me on a plate and they bore no resemblance to those pink wiggling things. I did not recognize them.”
“Yet you were going to eat it raw. Where do you come from?”
“Lanconia.”
“Ah yes, I’ve heard of it. Mountains and goats and grapes, right? What are you doing in America?”
“Your government invited me. I’m sure they are frantic since I have disappeared. You must—”
“Don’t start that again. If there was any way to get you off this island, I would. Believe me, sister.”
“I am not your sister, I am—”
“A royal pain in the neck. Here, cut the heads off these and shell them while I make a sauce.”
“I beg your pardon. I am not a scullery maid, nor am I your personal maid.”
He was standing over her, blocking the sunlight. Once again he had on shorts and an unbuttoned shirt. His legs were in front of her face and they were too large, too brown, too hairy.
“You’re in America now, Princess, and we’re all equal here. You eat; you work. I’m not serving you meals on a gold plate.” He tossed the knife and a flat piece of driftwood at her feet. “Cut and shell.”
“I don’t think your government will like the way you’re treating me, Lieutenant Montgomery. They very much want the vanadium my country has and I’m not sure I’ll sell it to America if I’m not treated well.”
“Treated well!” he sputtered. “I saved your skinny ass and look what it cost me.” He pulled his shirt from his left shoulder and she saw a deep, puffy, ugly furrow across his skin and around that were half-healed scars that ran down his upper arm, his ribs, and into his shorts. His leg was also scarred and the wounds there looked deeper and not as well healed.
She turned away from the sight. “You should not show me such things. Please keep yourself dressed in my presence.”
“You expect people to risk their lives for you, don’t you?”
“My subjects—”
“Subjects, hell! Here, get busy on these shrimp. If I have to do them, you don’t eat them.”
“I cannot believe you’d refuse me food.”
“Baby, you just try me.”
“Lieutenant Montgomery, you cannot call me—”
“Cut!” he yelled at her.
She picked up a boiled shrimp with the knife, put it on the piece of wood, then tried to slice downward with the knife. The shrimp moved but did not cut.
“Don’t you know how to do anything?” He took the knife, grabbed a shrimp in his left hand, and deftly cut off the head then broke the tail off and slipped the shrimp from its shell. “See? Easy.”
Aria was looking at him with all the horror she felt. “You touched it.”
“The shrimp? Of course I touched it.”
“I cannot do that. One does not touch food with one’s hands.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “How do you eat corn on the cob? Hot dogs? Hamburgers?”
“I have never eaten any of those things, and if one must touch them I do not plan to eat them.”
“Apples?”
“With a knife and fork, of course.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment but looked at her as if she were an alien from outer space. He took her hand in his, turned it palm up, and dumped a fat shrimp in it. He kept holding even when she tried to jerk away from him. He forced her to hold the shrimp in one hand, the knife in the other, and guided her through the motions of cleaning the shrimp.
Aria willed herself not to gag. She tried to close her eyes but the horrid man waited until she opened them before proceeding.
“Got it, Princess? When I get back, I expect the lot of them to be done.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone but the mound of shrimp looked enormous. She felt like the princess who had to spin straw into gold or be beheaded in the morning. Tentatively, she picked up another shrimp. It took her a full five minutes to get the thing cleaned and then there wasn’t much of it left.
“The American government will not like this,” she said under her breath. “When they hear of this, they will no doubt use their trial system to condemn this man to a long prison term. He will wear chains about his ankles and live in a rat-infested dungeon. Or better yet, they’ll send him to Lanconia. Grandpapa will know how to deal with him.”
The man’s snort from directly overhead made her jump.
“You must announce yourself. You cannot enter my chamber without my permission.”
“This is my chamber. You haven’t done ten shrimp. At this rate we’ll starve.”
She expected him to take the knife and finish them but he didn’t. Instead, he had an
other string of fish. He used a big knife to remove the heads then tied a string to the heads and secured them so they dangled in the water.
“We’ll have blue crab for lunch—that is, if we ever have breakfast.”
He made her so nervous that she cut her thumb. In shock, she sat there staring at the blood welling from the cut.
He grabbed her hand and looked at it. “What do you know? It’s red like the rest of us peons. Go stick your hand in the water.”
When she didn’t move, he pulled her upright and dragged her toward the stream and pushed her down until her hand was in the water. “Lady, you are the most useless human I ever met. You’re not good for much but living in an ivory tower. What do you people do, just marry each other and produce more useless brats?”
Aria’s hand was beginning to throb. “I am engaged to marry Count Julian of Borgan-Hessia.”
“Oh?” J.T. lifted her hand and inspected the cut. “Ever met him?”
“Of course. I’ve met him three times and danced with him four times.”
“Four times! It’s a wonder you didn’t get pregnant. Don’t look so shocked, get over there and finish the shrimp.”
Crude, vulgar man. The dungeon would be too good for him. She’d have to come up with a better punishment, something humiliating and disgusting. “My hand is injured. I cannot…Where are your…your…private facilities.”
“See all these trees? They are one big toilet.”
Trying to keep her composure, she walked away toward the narrow path. Once she started, she didn’t stop. The man was hideous. No one had ever spoken to her as he had. She had never realized anyone ever spoke to anyone else as this man did. But she would not stoop to his level of crudity. She was hungry, thirsty, tired, and hot but at least she was away from him.
It wasn’t easy for her to find her way to the beach but she finally made it. Perhaps there would be a boat to come by the island and she could hail it. She walked along the beach, stepping into ankle-deep mounds of rotting seaweed and straining her eyes to see across the ocean’s horizon.
There were few shells on the beach but she did see what looked to be long, narrow blue balloons. She stopped to pick one up.