Chapter 6
She
softly wandered further into the shed, nearing the horses, the shuffling of
their hoofs getting louder and louder.
She
never saw it happen.
The
hand was firmly clasped to her mouth, preventing the A of Alex, that had
already formed itself on her lips, to escape her throat, and another arm
pressed her into a muscular body.
She
closed her eyes in distress as her aggressor swiveled her around, not only
because she didn't want to see his face, but also with the thought that if she
just wished hard enough, her attacker would be gone and it would appear to be
only a dark, twisted game the darkness was playing with her, a trick it was
playing on her.
Warm
puffs of her assessor's breath were perceptible on her face, stroking her,
caressing her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, even tighter than
before. His face was close, very close now, and she was sure that when she'd
lean back, it would touch hers.
"BOO!"
a rather familiar voice exclaimed loudly in her ear. Her eyes flew open, and
she blindly started hitting her brother, very much annoyed by his stupidity and
the fright he had given her. "You jerk!!! Argh… you… you… moron!" she yelled at
Alex, and hit him again and again. He didn't seem to care, though, or pretended
that he didn't feel it. He was laughing out loud, and his neighing and Liza's
loud, high-pitched screams allured Amelia and Maria to the barn, finding there
a very pissed off Liza and an Alex who still was nowhere near regretting
his revenge…
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Max
slowly closed his eyes and softly sighed as the girl nestled her head on his
shoulder, her blonde, curly hair gently touching the crook of his neck. His
arms lay on her shoulders, and her arms were possessively wrapped around his
waist. He was aware of the envious looks the girl was receiving from the rest
of the female population in the room, but he decided that he didn't care what
they thought. He sighed again and they danced on and on, the dance seemingly
taking an eternity.
His
sigh wasn't one of bliss, though, and he didn't close his eyes because he
wanted to relish in the feelings this girl was evoking in him. His sigh was one
of annoyance, and his eyes only fluttered close in sheer irritation and
boredom.
He
liked to imagine that She was dancing with him, that he was holding Her
hand, that it was Her beautiful, pretty head that rested upon his
shoulder. The itchy touch of the girl's curls reminded him over and over again,
though, that he wasn't.
Before
the music had completely stopped, he let the girl go and gently pushed her away
from him. The fiddlers played on, and decades of young girls obtruding
themselves upon him. He arbitrary, high-handed picked one of them, not even
bothering to ask her like he had before, just taking her to the dancing-floor. Hissing
softly, inaudible to everyone but Michael, he said, "I swear, on the Goddess Of
The Moon, this is the last girl I'll dance with tonight." Michael just gave him
a sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder, an act of support and pity.
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"Don't
forget, children, le-" "Leave before Midnight, leave before the clock strikes
twelve, yeah, yeah, we know, we know," Maria cut her mother short, making a
reassuring gesture with her hand, "you only told us, like, a thousand times. Don't
worry mom, we'll be fine."
After
a quick kiss on the cheek, she stepped into the carriage, waiting for Liza and
Alex to join her.
"Thank
you, Amelia," Liza said, and, following Maria's lead, she gave Amelia a soft
peck on the cheek.
"You're
welcome, sweetheart," Amelia kindly replied, and she gently pushed Liza into
the coach. Ruffling Alex's hair, she told him, "Have fun, son, and take care of
my two girls, okay?"
Alex
smiled, nodded, and then quickly looked around him, checking the surroundings,
looking if someone could see him. When he didn't see anyone, he swiftly leaped
forward, giving Amelia a warm hug. "Thank you, Amelia, this really means a lot
to Liza."
"I
know," Amelia responded, and she tightly hugged him back, "that's why I'm doing
this."
Amelia
waved and watched until they were out of range of vision, and wished
whole-heartily that the children, nearly grown-ups, but still her three
children, would be okay.
----------------------------------
The
place was crowded, servants and guests swarming everywhere, the ballroom filled
with hundreds of young and pretty girls. The room was gorgeous, and Liza's eyes
lit up, amazed by the beautiful light and the plentitude of colors and decorations. She
looked around, studying the guests and the food, her eyes raking over rows of
tables with the most delicious and exotic meals.
And
then she saw him.
The
Prince, the one she'd been dreaming of her whole life, the one she'd been
thinking of the whole evening. He looked… absolutely wonderful… breathtaking…
there weren't any words to describe the way he looked, to describe the way he
made her feel…
Her
stomach flipped and turned, over and over again. It felt as if a hand was
gently closing itself around her heart, as if her heart became imbedded in it,
immersed in a sea, an ocean, of warmth and love.
Somehow
sensing her presence, he opened his eyes, and they met hers, a flicker of
recognition visible. Their eyes locked, making Liza feel beautiful and special,
but at the same time she was worrying that he might have recognized her. He couldn't
recognize her, he mustn't. If he did see who she was, then Bertha and
Tess would surely find out that she was here, and she'd be in deep, deep
trouble.
The
sound of the music subdued, and the last notes of the song slowly drifted out
of the ballroom, into a dark night. People were muttering, speculating and
guessing who she was, what she meant to the Prince, somewhat taken back by
their demeanor. She felt their burning, inquisitive stares on her neck, and
felt rather ill at ease. They stood there for seemingly an eternity until he
finally moved. He crossed the dancing-floor walked towards her, and with every
step he took, with every second in which he neared her, her heart couldn't help
but beat a little faster, and flutter in excitement.
He
was walking to her. Was he going to ask her to dance? Was he?
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Max
paused, just one step away from her, still not pleased with the current
distance between them, but aware of the stares people were giving them. She
looked so much like Her, so incredibly much… He reached out to touch her
cheek, to relish in the softness of it, to caress those long, beautiful
cheekbones, but stopped in mid-air when he realized what he was doing. She
couldn't be Her. She had been a normal girl, not a Princess… Her
eyes seemed exactly the same, though… The rich chocolate color of them, the
light swirls in them… The way they pulled him in, showed him her soul… And her
hair… Her hair resembled the hair of Her so much… It seemed just as
silky, just as soft, and, even though it was pinned upon her head, he knew that
it was just as long… The feeling she gave him was just the same he had had in
his countless dreams and fantasies about Her. His hand hovered in the
air, her face, her hair, her body beckoning him, softly calling his name. Feeling
the warmth emitted by her rosy cheeks, he suddenly was hit with reality: who he
was, what he was doing and where they were. He reluctantly pulled his hand back
and saw something flashing in her eyes. Disappointment. He immediately
regretted his decision and, determined to make it up to her, he raised his hand
again, holding it out to her.
"Can
I have this dance, Milady?" he asked, and he could barely wait for her answer,
the need to touch her and hear her voice becoming too much. A happy smile
formed itself on her lips and it lit up her face and eyes.
Loving
it, he decided to make her laugh more often, and his heart beat even faster
when she happily nodded a 'yes' and placed her tiny, soft hand in his. Unconsciously,
he tightened his grip when other men closed in on them, intending to ask her to
dance.
She
was his, he was claiming her, for the first time in his life selfishly
using his privileges as Prince, and nobody else would get to dance with her. "I'd…
I'd love to dance with you…" she softly, almost shyly, confessed, and her voice
sent shivers down his spine. Her gaze crossed his, provoking the most wonderful
feeling, the most wonderful dreams, imaginations and fantasies – everything he
had conjured up during the years he'd dreamt of Her – to well up inside
of him, and for the first time in his life – no, for the second time of his
life – he felt perfect, whole again, complete. Leading her behind him, he
walked to the dancing-floor, but was stopped by Michael, who was broadly,
knowingly grinning at him. "I thought you'd sworn on the Goddess Of The Moon
you wouldn't dance anymore?" he sarcastically asked. Max just smiled at him,
breezed past him and softly answered him, "She's more beautiful than the
Goddess Of The Moon," and silently he added, "and certainly more dear to me…"
