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Standard disclaimer.
Gwen finished her sandwich and toiled over what to wear, which was something she never did, with her students back in the States.
She scowled, then pretended it was Parents' Night and dressed in a burgundy v-neck sheath wrapped dress and sandals.
Francis led her to the prince's schoolroom, where the boy sat on a sofa, watching 102 Dalmatians.
"Your Highness, I present Mademoiselle Guinevere," Francis said.
The boy stood, reluctantly tearing his gaze from the movie and Gwen noticed, he was tall for his age...then again, his father was very tall.
He was dressed in a suit, but his starched shirt was rumpled, and a shirttail hung out of his slacks.
His hair was slicked down, but a cowlick on his crown rebelled, reminding her of Dennis the Menace.
Gwen's heart softened.
Since she'd stood in the shadow of her perfect brother, her entire life, she had a deep, abiding compassion for imperfection.
When Francis turned off the movie, she watched the little prince frown, then glance at her with wariness.
"Welcome to Wales, Mademoiselle Guinevere," Prince Andrew said, in a neutral tone.
"Thank you very much, Your Highness. It's a pleasure to meet you. Do you prefer Drew or Andrew?"
The little prince hesitated, and Gwen quickly shot Francis a quelling glance.
"Drew," the boy finally said.
"Good," she said. "You may either call me Gwen or Miss Gwen." Max nodded. "I'm here to help you learn to read and write."
She saw his face immediately shut down.
Funny, she thought, prince or pauper, that expression was universal among kids, who'd experienced too much failure.
"I don't like to read and write."
"I'm not surprised," Gwen said, and wandered around the room, eyeing shelves and shelves of unread books.
Andrew crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her with suspicion.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you've had a rotten experience trying to read and write and you've tried and tried. Trying has made you feel stupid, even though you're quite smart."
"How do you know I'm not stupid?" he asked, and her heart broke a little, at the doubt in his voice.
The glint of defiance in his eyes held a world of pain.
She remembered the years in her childhood, when she'd felt stupid, because she couldn't read.
"Because, there are tests, that measure learning and intelligence and you score high on the intelligence tests. You've had a problem reading, but I'm here to help you."
Andrew slid his gaze back to the television.
"I would rather watch movies." Gwen smiled and bent down.
"Watching movies can be fun for a while, but you're very smart and you will want to do other things." He looked at her with a mixture of doubt and curiosity.
"Are you American?"
"Yes," Gwen said.
"My father says, American women often don't appreciate, the importance of royal duty." Gwen would bet there was a story behind that belief.
"That may be true, because we don't have princes and princesses in America."
"My adopted uncle, married an American woman."
"What did you think of her?"
"She was nice. She let me play on her computer and gave me a piece of chocolate." Gwen took mental notes. 'Computers and chocolate'.
"What's your favorite animal?"
"Dog," Andrew said, without missing a beat. "But I like lions a lot, too."
"Okay," she said, and catalogued the information. "We'll start tomorrow. Good night."
"Good night," Andrew said, then added, "Mademoiselle Gwen."
Gwen left the room, and Francis guided her down another hall.
"Now, you will officially meet with the prince," he told her.
Prince Arthur had set aside thirty minutes, to meet with the American tutor, then planned to retire to his quarters, with a glass of vintage Burgundy wine and sit in complete and utter silence.
It had been one hell of a long day.
A knock sounded at the door. "Enter," he called.
"Your Highness, Prince Arthur, may I present Mademoiselle Guinevere James." Arthur nodded.
"Thank you Francis. You may leave. Please join me, Mademoiselle Guinevere," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
"Thank you, Your Highness," she said and stepped from behind Francis.
Arthur blinked at the transformation, of the woman he'd met this morning.
Although her hair was wild as ever, her brown eyes sparked, with curiosity and intelligence.
Her dress revealed feminine curves and a distracting pair of legs.
She moved with a combination of purposefulness and sensuality.
She reminded him of a firecracker, a palace guard had quickly removed from his hands, when he'd been a teenager, hell-bent on having fun.
Arthur could barely remember the last time, he'd genuinely had fun.
Between his father's death and the responsibility of the throne that had been his since birth, his life had been unrelentingly serious.
Fun was for other people, he'd told himself.
He had too many other important matters to manage.
"You have met my son," Arthur said. Gwen nodded.
"Yes, and I've read the folder on his education and test scores. He's very intelligent, but discouraged. Not unusual for children with learning disabilities."
Arthur glanced away.
He didn't like the term 'learning disability' connected with his son.
He still didn't like the idea, that there was anything wrong with his son.
"Andrew is not typical. As you've observed...he is quite intelligent and he will someday rule Wales." Gwen smiled, and her expression warmed him.
"Many parents go through a little grieving stage, when they learn their child has a learning difficulty. It's the death of the dream, of the perfect child, and it can be painful. That's part of it. But there's another part. I believe kids with learning disabilities are underrated. They view the world differently, and this can be an advantage. I'm sure I don't have to tell you, that Einstein had learning problems."
Arthur blinked. He hadn't known.
"Einstein?"
"Oh, yes. His early childhood teachers, told his mother, he would never amount to anything. Viewing the world differently, may be a good thing. It's my challenge to help Andrew develop and learn and grow in confidence. I'll tell him that he needs to learn to read a little differently..."
"No!" Arthur began.
"Yes," she interrupted, surprising the daylights out of him. No one, except his mother, the queen, interrupted him. "Prince or ghetto child, I try to be honest and positive with every child," she said firmly. And then, "I'll tell him he can succeed because it's the truth."
"Mademoiselle Guinevere," he began.
"Please call me Gwen," she interrupted again. "The formality is unnecessary with me."
Unaccustomed to such a request, Arthur paused, then chose to ignore it.
He noticed her hands, because, she laced her fingers and slowly rubbed them back and forth.
They were small, yet capable looking, her nails were unpainted, but something about the flow of her movements, struck him as sensual.
If it wasn't moving her hands, then she was expressing herself, with a slight shrug, that made her breasts sway, or she was touching her moist, full lips.
The word to describe her eluded him.
He caught himself and, reining in his wandering mind, he returned to the subject at hand.
"Andrew has developed an aversion to books. He has lost all of his confidence." She nodded.
"I can see the aversion to books. He's lost a lot of confidence, but not all. Children are incredibly resilient. A little hope goes a long way." She grew serious.
"There is something else I need to discuss with you. I wasn't informed, that I would be working in a palace, and I don't know anything about royal protocol. I didn't take any electives, on how to curtsy, and...I'll be frank...as far as I'm concerned, it's clutter. I was informed that I would have a lot of latitude with this position, to accomplish my goals. If I'm not going to have that latitude, then I'm probably not the woman for this job," she said, and slowly stroked her throat.
The way she leaned toward him and kept her gaze on his, suggested she was confiding in him, and created an odd sense of intimacy.
Andrew glanced at her slow-moving finger and his mind's eye traveled down the caramel skin, of her neck to her chest.
The sheath and whatever she wore beneath dissolved, and he imagined the sight of bronze breasts and tight brown nipples.
Lower still, he visualized her rib cage and belly button and a downy thatch of hair covering her femininity between her brown thighs.
He had just mentally undressed his son's tutor, Arthur realized and swallowed an oath. He clearly needed a glass of wine and his hour of solitude.
He had dealt with everything today, from foreign affairs, to legislation, but this woman was giving him a headache...and if he wasn't careful something else.
"What do you have planned for Andrew?" he asked.
"I'm going to help him rediscover his passion for learning."
Her mention of the word passion, brushed over his nerve endings, reminding him of passions he'd long denied.
"We're going to do something very important," she said.
"And what is that, Mademoiselle Guinevere?" he asked.
"Gwen," she corrected with a sensual tilt of her lips. "Andrew and I are going to have fun."
A few sparse fun-filled memories, from Arthur's childhood, flashed through his mind.
He wanted the fun for his son, but he also understood the responsibility, Andrew would one day face.
"My son will one day rule. Preparing him, require years of training, and there's no way to escape the fact, that it's serious business. As an American, you may not appreciate..."
"Oh, Andrew mentioned, you didn't think much of American women." Arthur digested her words and felt a flicker of temper.
"Miss Gwen, you've stated that you do not have an appreciation for royal protocol. Is it not considered rude in your country, to interrupt when another is speaking?"
He watched her blink, then a look of chagrin crossed her face. She bit her lip.
"I apologize. It's hard for me to restrain myself, when I feel so passionately about something. You're right."
Arthur was accustomed to deference, from nearly everyone he met, but her apology and sincere acknowledgment of his point, was a breath of fresh air.
He nodded.
"You'll have a great deal of latitude, to accomplish what all of us want for Andrew, however, there are security and protocol factors. It's a fact of life. Francis is an excellent resource for any questions you may have. I'll want a weekly update on Andrew's progress."
Gwen nodded thoughtfully.
"Okay. Just one question, please?"
"Yes."
"One of the things I ask the parents of the kids I work with, is, do you read with your child?" Arthur was taken aback. He felt a haunting sense of loss.
"My late wife, Andrew's mother, sometimes read to him. His nanny has read to him, on occasion since then." Gwen cocked her head to the side.
"I'm sorry about your loss. I'm sure you're very busy, but it would help, if you can squeeze in some reading, every now and then."
"I spend time with my son, but I must delegate some responsibilities to others. That's part of the reason I hired you."
"But, I'm a woman, and you're a man."
Silence followed.
Her gaze held his, and a basic sensual awareness, flashed between them.
Surprise and chagrin crossed her face, before she glanced away. She cleared her throat.
"This is a modeling issue." She paused when he didn't immediately respond. "Dr. Seuss is highly recommended for children, with reading problems."
Arthur had a vague recollection of reading a Dr. Seuss book, when he was a child.
"You want me to read The Cat in the Hat," he said, fighting a twinge of impatience. "Miss, I must teach my son to be a protector, a warrior. I teach him to fence."
Gwen paused a moment, and chose her words wisely.
"Your Highness, in your lifetime...how many times have you used a sword, to settle your differences, or solve a problem?"
"Never," he admitted. "But the sport builds confidence." He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to speak.
"I understand what you're saying. Andrew will use words, as a weapon and a bridge far more often, than he'll use a sword."
Gwen nodded slowly, and he felt an odd understanding passed between them.
He saw a faint glimmer of respect in her eyes, at the same time, he felt a kick of challenge in his gut.
The tutor from America was turning out to be more than he had bargained for.
Hope you liked it. Stay safe and stay blessed.