Pregnant! By the Prince (4 page)

"Ah, my people." Together, we strolled down the street, him speaking up first. "Sunday is market day."

"How do you grow anything up here?"

"People find a way. It is the summer, you know. Some things can grow here - and of course, livestock. We didn't magic those sausage and eggs out of nothing."

"Of course." I watched as kids ran down the street, and various people hawked items. Vegetables, meat. Some fish too, which led me to believe that there was some water near. With that alone they could manage self-sufficiency.

"The people here have simple lives. I guess one could argue there's virtue in that, but they are simple lives that are hard. How old do you think that woman is over there?" He pointed to a woman who had to be a similar age to Nadia. She was selling quilts.

"I don't know. Seventy?"

"Marian there, is fifty. Nonstop hard work ages you, fast. She has known nothing but struggling to survive. The only joy in her life have been her children. No time for music, art, games."

"That sounds pretty awful, but look at me, I'm a spoiled American." I had a part time job when I was sixteen. If I had to do that for the rest of my life, I think I'd cry.

Again, painting is not the best way to prevent that.

"There's so many joys I want to introduce them to. So much I saw in my own travels. Many joys I want to introduce you to." His eyebrows raised suggestively.

I had to laugh. "You're never going to let up, are you?"

"Would you let up if you saw something you really wanted in front of you?"

"There is something I really want in front of me."

"Oh really?"

Again, in a flash I turned my head away.
Don't tell him how you feel, idiot. He only wants you because you're playing hard to get.

"Um, I mean. Look at that!" I pointed at a random food item. It was bright red, and looked sort of like a fruit roll-up.

"So that's what you want? Then I shall get it for you."

He broke from me and pulled out the wallet. He offered some of Dolotovyan currency. I reminded myself to ask questions later about what you'd call it, so I could stop feeling such an idiot.

The merchant was happy, and Leon returned, two in hand. "Here you go, my Beatrice."

I took it. Seems they served it on a stick. It was warm.

"Are you just going to stare at it?"

A dare, I rushed and took a bite. Cherry, strawberry - sugar. Lots of sugar. My mouth was overwhelmed with sweetness that it went to sour, and back to sweetness again.

It melted down my throat. "What the hell is this?" I just glared at the warm treat in front of me.

"Yagor. Your taste buds aren't trained for it, but it's wonderful when you get used to it." He casually took a bit, letting it slide down his throat, no contortions on his face. "Maybe I was stretching when I was talking about no joys. I haven't found anything that touches Dolotovyan
cooks. I might be biased."

The sweetness lingered in my mouth. It was good, just absolutely overpowering. I opted to just carry it until I worked up the courage to take another bite. "God. It's sort of just smashing your tongue into a wall. I mean that in the best way possible."

"Ha! I told you I had joys to show you."

We kept walking.

"Anything you see, you can have. Even if you have no carnal desires for me, I want you to return to America and tell them about us."

"I guess this is the hospitality that the people take so much pride in?"

"You'd think, but no. The tradition of hospitality is to offer a helping hand to those who need it. Bring them medicine. Feed and warm someone on the street. The tradition does not order them to buy things for others."

"Just help them get by in a cold world."

"Exactly. I do this for you, Beatrice, because you are something special."

He stopped our procession. A scarf merchant was near. He looked up and down.

"What is your favorite color?"

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Really, I'm fine."

"I asked you a question, Beatrice. Please honor me with an answer."

Well if he's going to ask me my favorite color that way. "Alright, blue."

He gave over more money, and in a single motion wrapped the scarf around my neck and face. "Your face looked so pale. You aren't used to to these temperatures. I want that wonderful rosy color back in your cheeks."

A chuckle escaped my lips.

"There it is. Now that scarf is worth ten thousand times the price."

My face warmed up - not from the scarf, but instead an extreme case of blushing.

Again, we continued on together. Down the icy roads, in which the scarf really did help.

We left the marketplace, and were now on the outskirts of town. A field, lightly brushed with snow. Snow-capped trees were in the distance. A fox ran across. I broke away from Leon to take in the sights. The serenity of it all was beautiful. You couldn't go anywhere in America without being overwhelmed by noise and lights.

A small farm house was also in the distance. Leon kept walking toward it. I chased to keep up with him.

She was sitting quietly, churning butter. Leon smiled. "Tasha!" It was the end of what I was able to understand.

They conversed a bit, the woman's voice low. She looked in her forties, and there was melancholy on her face. There was also a very dark blue spot surrounding her eye.

I cringed, not being naive to what it meant.

Leon gave her a hug, and took a container from her.

He took my hand again, and led me away. "Tasha makes some of the best butter I've ever had. Given I can get things from anywhere in the country, it's safe to say she's the best, period."

Leon spoke as if he wasn't aware.

"So, she um, had something wrong with her eye."

Leon stopped, his shoulders sinking. "I hoped you wouldn't have noticed that."

"Her husband is beating her, isn't he?"

"Logic dictates yes. She won't confess it to me, though."

"You should go tell her she needs to leave him, for her own safety, and any kids they may
have."

"Divorce is illegal."

"What do you mean?"

"Dolotovya never modernized with the rest of the world. A marriage is forever, no matter what happens. You're on shaky ground even if you wish to remarry after your spouse's death."

"They have to make an exception for that."

"No. If Tasha made it public, they'd somehow tell her it's her fault. She would then likely face fiercer retribution from him."

"It's assault. That has to be illegal, right?"

"Marriage in Dolotovyan law literally makes two one. You cannot assault yourself."

I clenched my teeth, my face red in anger. "Pardon my language, but that's complete bullshit."

Leon sighed, and continued walking. He quietly murmured barely loud enough for me to hear it: "I know."

-Chapter Six-

Leon was right.

The chef really did take gratitude as a challenge to make something even greater.

It was some sort of stroganoff, my language barrier foiling me again. It truly was something unbelievably special, though.  The man was a wizard in the kitchen. I'd ask him for his secrets if I could understand him.

Leon simply watched me scarf down the food, taking his time himself. I suddenly felt like a pig and slowed down. "Sorry. This is really, really good though."

"Glad you enjoy it."

He raised his wine glass to me. I did the same. Drinking age didn't exist as a concept here. He toasted me, and I sipped it lightly.

He seemed so perfect, even if his country wasn't. "So you need a kid to be able to assume power as King?"

"Yes. Tradition is strong, and it cannot be challenged by a mere prince."

"Kind of a bummer. Some people don't get married until their forty in America, and you're like, twenty-five?"

"Twenty-four. However, I can always simply find a willing woman if I grow impatient. Royal marriages are rarely about love, no matter how I want them to be." He sipped his wine, unable to take his eyes off me.

"I guess the not having to be a royal thing is to prevent some loopy kids given the country's isolation."

"The law wasn't always so open about marriages, but when we saw the problems other dynasties had, we managed to change before it wreaked havoc with our own country."

I played with what remained of my food. I was still so torn inside, despite my efforts to play it cool. I hated how much I wanted him, wishing that he was one of those inbred monarchs that they had avoided. It'd just be sheer kindness being the reason I'm here, instead of the complexity of love.

Courage finally found its way to me. "I'm a twenty year old American girl. I wasn't expecting to get married for another decade. Do you really want to make me your bride? Cause I'm totally getting that vibe."

He sipped his drink, seemingly buying time for himself. "I'd wish for that to happen,
perhaps. I understand not wanting to think about such things now, no matter how much I yearn for it."

I took a deep breath. "So I don't have to worry about you whipping out a ring at me and really putting me in a confusing spot. I definitely didn't see myself married to a guy I just - "

My words were interrupted. He was quick, and over to my chair, a kiss on my lips. My mind exploded with fascination. My first kiss. I dreamed about it, but it was nothing like this.

It wasn't a simple peck. Our tongues met and wrapped around one another. Passion, raw passion spilled from him. He was so lovely, so knowledgeable.

His hand ran through my hair and down my neck. My hand locked with his, and he gently led me to stand side by side to better embrace with one another. This time, I ran my fingers over his polo shirt. I felt his firm muscles under my hand. I never thought I'd enjoy touching a man this much.

His touch wrought havoc on me too. It awakened every naughty feeling within. It reminded me what was happening. How the last time I pushed him away.

Fear was still powerful within me, telling me to put a hand on his chest and end this. Desperately afraid of falling in love, desperately afraid of messing up that first time in love.

If it was just a fuck, I don't know if I'd be on so much turmoil.

This time, though, I managed to beat my fears, and let what my body wanted run wild.

I relished his touch. I relished his kiss - and relished the whole cocktail of feelings that was rushing through me. His hands grabbed my thighs, and lifted me onto him. My weight was no match for his strength as he carried me to his room.

I was lost to any sight but him as he placed me on his bed, and the majestic blankets that rubbed against my back. His hands on my sides, he grabbed the sweater and started rolling it up. I threw my arms up and let him relieve me of it, the heat inside me and from him more than enough to make me warm in a cold night.

He wasted little time raining down his kisses on my chest, and grabbing the latch on my bra, tearing it away. He ceased for a moment to admire me. "Beautiful. I only got to touch last night, but now I see my hands didn't lie to me. Your breasts - they are greater than I imagined."

Before I could comment, his head dove and sucked on my tit, sparking up the electricity inside of me, letting it roll over me, with a delightful moan.

My hand ran over his magnificent hair. So soft, I let him have his way with me. Worshiping the tips of my breasts, going down to my abdomen. He didn't seem to be offended that I had the audacity to be a normal human being who didn't have washboard abs - or whatever the female equivalent was. Leon only smiled as he brought a hand toward my pants.

His strong hand pressed on the outside of them, enough pressure for me to feel it all the way through. It was a tease, more so as he caressed my thighs. I shot him back the same smile he just gave me.

A snap away of the the pant button, he started to jerk them down my legs. Fear washed over me once more. My virginity. It just made a complicated situation only worse. I was an American, and should have been around the blocks a few times already, according to him. By now I should have known how to do something that would make him wild.

I didn't. My leg twitched, wanting to kick him and run away once more.

My anxiety, though, didn't go unnoticed.

He placed a hand on my leg, and looked up at my eyes. "What's bothering you, Beatrice?"

I gulped. "Um, I, uh."

He looked me over again, and followed with a hearty laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"It's your first time, isn't it?"

I froze, as if a terrifying secret had just been revealed to him.

"As loose as people seem to think Americans are, lots seem to forget Europe used the continent to offload all of their puritans. It was wrong of me to assume the former, and I definitely don't see you as the latter. You are your own person, beautiful in her own ways."