Belle smiled to herself as she watched Cassie chase the sheep into their little fenced pasture by the barn. The sun was just dipping under the hills and the stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky. She could see Dorian, Miles, and her father going into the house for supper. The hearty smell of beef stew wafted to her on the gentle wind, and she found herself impatient for Cassie to finish her work.
Once the small dog finally did finish, Belle raced her to the house. She hurriedly took her seat at the table between her two brothers. "Oh, Dorian, tell us now that Belle's here! You promised you would when she came in." Her mother cried upon her arrival.
"Alright," Her older brother said smugly, winking at Belle. He hadn't wanted to leave the his only sister out, she was his favorite over Miles. "I asked Gwendolyn to marry me today, when I had to go to the village to get the pitchfork mended."
Cries of delight abounded, and Belle threw her arms around Dorian's neck while her father slapped him on the back with a grin. She was stunned for words, she could hardly believe that her wish had worked! Belle kissed him soundly on the cheek and said cheerfully, "I'm so happy, Dorian! Will you have a barn raising?"
"Yes, of course," Dorian assured her, "How else would we build it?"
"May I help with the raising, Father?" Miles asked eagerly.
Reuben smiled at his young son and said, falsely looking him over with a critical eye, "I suppose you can, Miles. You are fifteen years old now."
Miles shot Belle a superior look, to which she replied, "May I be flower girl at the wedding, Dorian?"
"No, you're too old for that, silly! But don't despair, Gwendolyn wishes you to be her maid of honor." Dorian said, ruffling Belle's hair in the same gesture her father often did, and affected the same fond look as he did it. "And a pretty one you'll make, too, Belle. After the wedding you'll have all the boys in the village running after you, I'd wager."
Her parents smiled knowingly, and Miles scoffed, but Belle blushed bright enough to obscure her freckles. Soon she occupied herself with eating her food and listening to the talk.
During the following week the O'Leary family saw much of Gwendolyn and her father, Victor. The barn for Dorian and Gwen's home had already been raised and the house was steadily rising. It would be a small, two story affair, much like the O'Leary family home: a family room and kitchen area on the ground floor, along with a bedroom for the couple, and three rooms upstairs, for any children or perhaps a sewing room for Gwen, who was quite the little seamstress.
The bride herself and Clara O'Leary had worked hard on the dresses for Gwen and Belle. The men's Sunday best would do for the wedding, it was fitting enough. Gwen's dress was simple, light blue in color with white ribbons and lace trim. Belle's dress was yellow with white ribbons and lace trim, and both of their necklines were modest, their sleeves short for the weather, and the dresses were made of fine wool. The wedding would be held at the local church, of course, and everyone in the village would be there.
Belle sighed as she lounged on her favorite rock in the light breeze. She was wearing her usual attire: a dark blue dress with a long, flowing skirt, short sleeves and a square cut neckline. Her plain white apron was tied at her waist, and her shepherdess's crook was laid beside her. Belle rolled over on her back and watched the clouds as she thought about her brother's fast approaching wedding and how things would change without him around as much.
Miles would just have to work a little bit harder, and her father had begun talking about buying another horse they could give Dorian as a wedding gift. A few of Belle's sheep and a baby calf (once it was weaned from its mother) would be going to a new home. As would Dorian and Gwendolyn both…Belle sighed, partially with joy at her brother's good fortune, but mostly with a sense of bittersweet longing. Her brother would be gone now, and she would still be tending her sheep. Why couldn't things just stay the same?
Belle was suddenly aware of the sound of hooves on the grass of the meadow. From the pace she could tell it was a horse, so she sat up eagerly. No one in the village would be riding a horse in the meadow at this time of day; it had to be a lost traveler of some sort.
The horse and his rider were still a fair distance away, but Belle could already admire the handsome animal. He was a large beast; huge in fact, and black in color and a mane of the same shade. Now, as he drew closer, his rider came into focus. The man was about the same age as her brother Dorian, and gorgeous. He had dark hair that curled around his ears, and a fine figure.
The man stopped his horse in front of her. The horse pranced and tossed its head, whinnying. The man on the horse was wearing very nice, expensive clothes, and his eyes were as dark as his hair. He smiled at her, and Belle couldn't help but smile back.
"Hello," He said, his voice melodious. "Could I perhaps trouble you with some company? I've been on the road since dawn and could use a rest."
"Of course, milord," Belle said, hastily hopping up to offer him her rock to sit on. She gave a little curtsy while she was at it: although she didn't know his precise rank, it was certainly a lot higher then hers was.
He gave a quirk of a smile as he got down off of his horse. As soon as his foot touched the ground, Cassie ran over, barking. Belle hurried to shush her, cuddling the small dog to her chest until she was contented.
"You can come and sit by me, shepherdess," he said with a smile. "I don't bite."
"I have a name," Belle said boldly, sitting beside him. "I'm not just a shepherdess."
"So what is your name?" He asked, stretching out on the rock.
Belle idly picked some wildflowers and began fashioning them into a crown. Now, with the handsome man asking her name, she didn't know if she should offer it up so freely. Belle didn't know this man or what he was doing here. But how could he harm her just with her name?
"My name is Belle," she said reluctantly, not even giving him her full Christian name, as she had with the mythical figure she had met not so long ago.
He smiled at her as he watched her nimble fingers work the stems of the flowers into a chain. "You may call me Demitrius," he told her.
"Demitrius?" Belle said, her light eyes meeting his dark ones. "But that's the same of the Prince of Connaught. He'd be about the same age as yourself, you know, and about to marry soon…
"To an Italian," The comment was passed in a sardonic manner, without the barest trace of the smile that had graced his full lips only a moment before.
Belle cocked her head to the side and finished her crown of flowers, which she promptly bestowed on her companion's head. "So," she said lightly, "You are the prince."
Demitrius grinned roguishly. "I suppose my comment about the Italian tipped you off?" He took the crown off of his head and began plucking the petals off. "I really don't want to marry her. My mother wants me to marry an Italian, like herself. Father just wants me to marry, and soon. Really, the girl's little better then you as far as noble blood goes, she's just the daughter of an earl."
"Really, your highness? I'm far from anything resembling noble blood. I'm sure the…what ever her title is will be an attentive and beautiful wife."
Demetrius smirked at her, saying, "Passing judgment on someone that you've never seen, eh? Even if it is polite and admiring, still not a good habit."
Belle blushed furiously at his comment. He must think her some silly little country girl, but really, was that estimate so far off the mark? Belle had never been far from her little village and the protection of her family.
As he was looking at her, Demetrius continued smirking and said, "Lady Caprice. That's the name of the daughter of the earl."
Not wanting to say something that would come out wrong in the presence of this beautiful man, Belle just murmured "Oh," very quietly and took a seat beside Demetrius. Silence prevailed for a few glorious moments, marred only by the lovely sounds of the spring birds, Cassie, and plaintive bleats from the sheep.
"So what are you doing here?" Belle asked, longing to break the silence.
"I just needed to get away from the castle," Demetrius said. He waved his hand in the air, as if to elaborate. "It's so busy, and Father kept bothering me about when I was to write to Caprice's father to formally ask for her hand. I avoided him for as long as I could, but the servants always tell him where I am."
"Will you be away from your home for long?" Belle ventured. If the prince needed it, it was only her duty to offer her own home. She found that she was captivated with this exotic man, and wanted to at least spend an hour or more with him.
"No, not long at all, I'm afraid," Demetrius said, glancing up at the sun. "In fact, I should be going now." He stood and regarded her silently.
Belle looked back at him, wishing that he wouldn't be leaving quite so soon. She found that she quite enjoyed Prince Demetrious' company and wanted to get to know him better. "Will you…do you often find the need to leave your castle?" Belle asked quietly.
Demetrius looked at her for a long, silent moment, and then he nodded, slowly. Suddenly, before Belle could stop him, Demetrius kissed her on the lips. The kiss was slow, soft, and very chaste.
"Perhaps I shall see you again, fair maiden," He leapt on his horse and it pawed the ground, eager to gallop. Demetrius raised a hand in farewell and the steed dashed off.
Belle raised her own hand in a similar gesture. Her finger touched her lips, where the warmth of her first real kiss still lingered.
A/N: As for the title Prince of Connaught, I don't think it has ever been a real title. Connaught is the province in Ireland where Belle lives, so I made up the title. I didn't want him to be prince of all of Ireland, it won't sit right with the plot.