Page 11 of Much Ado About Mistletoe
“No. Eva’s quite the accomplished thief, and when she found the little boy and he clung to her, that handled the situation before I was forced to take action.” He turned and lookedbetween me and Maria.“Rush. Run. Sprint!Do you dare claim caution?”
Clearly he was referring to me. “Some state of affairs require immediate action,” I said loftily.
He caressed my chin. “So they do.”
He wanted to kiss me, I thought. In that department, he had proved his accomplishments…although no one in my family would believe such a thing about the stodgy prince.
But damn the man, he kept talking. “The priests say it’s a sin to listen to a fortune-teller, or anyone who claims to know the future. You and I, we’ll have to confess on Sunday, and for what, really? Your Maria knows no more than we do ourselves.”
“What if she does know…?”
“We have our whole lives ahead of us. She says yours is a long life, and I have faith in that prediction, for I’ll accept nothing less for you.” His eyes gleamed as if he looked forward to a life with me. “Believe me, for as you know, I’m skilled at getting my way.”
“Obnoxious man!” Yes, he had gotten his way with me. Well, not hisway, exactly, but he’d assured himself that eventually he would have all of me. Yet I grinned, for he pointed out his triumph with such understatement I couldn’t help it.
“There. You smile. We’ll be blessed with children, as the Lord wills it, and if our family is slow to arrive, we’ll have more time to learn each other.” He looked up from his scrutiny of my face and glanced to the side. “I’m sure Maria would agree—predictions are difficult, especially about the future.”
“Nicely put, my prince.” The children were gone, so Maria had pulled the shawl from her face and approached us. To me, she said, “My true name is Ruxandra. I trust you with that, for you have honor and show compassion. Someday we’ll meet again, far away in one of the wild places. In the meantime”—takingmy hand, she bent low and kissed my knuckles—“I’m forever at your service.”
And she was gone, hurrying toward the city gates and another journey to another far land.
Cal offered his arm. “Shall we return to the Christmas market?”
Again I rested my whole hand on it, and wondered if he was a shape-shifter, for from one moment to another, I never knew what to think of him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Back at the Piazza dei Signori, we did a little more admiring of the goods, a lot more greeting of the citizens, and absolutely no buying, which at first confused me. Then I came to realize it made sense; the prince of Verona could not show favor, so he either had to buy something from everyone or from no one. But we did seriously and privately discuss which gifts were most appropriate for the orphans according to their ages, and Marcellus, Holofernes and Dion added their two coins, or was that six coins? I was glad I was there to veto their idea that the adolescent girls should each receive a broom; I reminded them the gift was supposed to invoke pleasure, not a dour future. Being men, they seemed surprised to know young women did not look forward to a lifetime of cleaning, and being men, they pointed out that a colorful ribbon to braid in their hair and a well-made coif to cover the head would cost as much as the tools they planned to give the youths.
I stood on my little flat feet and made myself clear. We would buy each girl a ribbon, a well-made coif, and each would be different to set them apart of the ugly orphan uniform. “Even poor girls deserve a little joy in their lives.”
It was at that point that Holofernes, eternally gleeful, began his imitation of a female donning a coif with coos of delight, and while we were laughing, I made eye contact with Lazaro.
He first glared balefully as he would have to Lady Rosaline, then the memory of my new status gripped him and he bobbed his head and got very busy doing nothing.
With our gift lists created and a palace servant dispatched to quietly put in the orders, we returned to Casa Montague to find Mamma and Susanna were awake and Nurse glaring balefully at the prince for taking her baby without an escort.
The family was gathered around the firepit in the atrium and—surprise, surprise!—my papà, Lord Romeo, had just now returned without a deer, but with a giant log for the yule fire.
I was relieved to see the scattered walnut shells had been swept into a pile to be used for kindling and the nut meats had been carried to the kitchen to be made into candy, rather than left as a betrayal of our activities and Papà’s gift.
Papà also brought Lysander of the House of Marcketti who, to my surprise, had gone with him on his hunting trip and stood now with a cleaned, skinned buck flung over his rugged shoulders. Indeed, Princess Isabella and Katherina gazed at him, star-struck, as if he were Apollo: Archer, Hunter and Provider of Meat. For the merest moment, I felt as shocked and breathless as if I’d been grabbed by the teeth of a river monster and dragged beneath the surface.
Of course, Lysander of the House of Most Handsome was allowed to have his admirers. I might still hold him close to my heart as my One True (and now secret) Love, but I’d freely given him up to wed Prince Escalus. Not in a longing for a title or money or power,grazie mille, dear reader, for your wicked suspicions. No, it was because Cal had been cruelly injured saving me from a madman and, believing (justly) that because the role of princess of Verona made me a target, he offered me my freedom.
At that moment, what was I supposed to do? Grab Lysander with both hands and make a run for it while Prince Escalus of Verona suffered the disgrace of a runaway bride? Every person in Verona and, Ruxandra said, far beyond knew the circumstances of our betrothal. In the moments between myreturn to safety and his noble sacrifice, he’d made it clear he had emotions for me.
I’d been raised by Romeo and Juliet, good people of sound morals and generous emotions and I knew choosing Cal was the right thing to do, and indeed I made that clear to the populace and Lysander that I gave myself willingly into royal wedlock.
I didn’t regret it, but I had this dizzy reaction to seeing those silly girls cooing at Lysander, as if I’d taken an unwary step off the edge of the earth.
Before I could tumble further, Cal put his arm around my waist and drew me to his side. “Lord Romeo, welcome home and what a magnificent downed tree you found to cut into a log. It should burn for many nights. Lysander, congratulations on a glorious kill to add to the Montague Christmas larder.” His genial tone did not match the firm grip he kept on me, making his claim clear to the observant Lysander.
Lysander, whose beauty had been battered by the sun, the hunt and, it appeared, too much drink, stared at me miserably as Tommaso directed the servants to take the cleaned deer to the kitchen to be dismembered.
Papà swooped in to save the day. “We’ll roast a haunch, of course, and send a haunch to the Marcketti household. A haunch will go to the good friars to feed the poor and the last haunch will go to the butcher to be made into sausage. As I told Sander, such venison is a rare treat in our household!” He clapped Lysander on the shoulder, who jumped as if newly awakened to the fraught situation, which now included an affectionate nickname, my papà’s admiration for his hunting skills and Cal’s irritation at both.
Emilia sidled toward Cal and me, and to my surprise she poked Cal with her finger, and when he looked down, she rolled her eyes toward Lysander.
