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.

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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…"