Page 9 of Engaged to the Mountain Man

When Rafael has finished with his instructions, I reach out and touch the shell. It’s hard and cold beneath my fingertips, reminding me of a stone.

Herbert blinks up at me, seemingly unaffected by my presence.

“He’s lovely. What happened to his shell?” There’s a jagged line bisecting it.

“Not sure. Probably a bird picked him up and dropped him. I found the little guy on the side of the road and managed to get him back into good health. But he’s no longer strong enough to be on his own.”

“You found him on the side of the road,” I say softly, my attention snagged on that detail.

“He was alone like me,” Rafe says and immediately ducks his head as if he didn’t mean to reveal that detail about himself.

My heart hurts for this mountain man. While he snored last night, I searched through the cabin for clues about him. I couldn’t find family pictures or photo albums. Nothing to tell me who Rafael is or where he comes from. It made me sad for him.

I’ve grown up in a kingdom where my ancestors’ portraits hang on the walls. I’ve spent my life being taught about my history, my lineage, where I come from. I know who I am. I know who those were before me. I feel their presence and carry them with me.

“Time for lunch,” he says right as my stomach growls.

We start the walk back to his place, and I follow him. I’m dirty, sweaty, and completely invigorated by today’s work. I’m not sure how much land he owns on this mountain, but it seems like a lot. My fingers itch to spend a day painting the breath-taking landscape onto a canvas. “This is beautiful. I get why you love living here.”

“It’s my first real home. As a boy, I grew up in the foster system. Bounced around from place to place. I never knew how long I’d get to stay or where I was going next.”

He grew up in the foster system. It makes sense why he has no personal photos, but if he’s really who Violet claims he is, why did he end up here? Why didn’t the Republic of Portia claim him? I doubt he knows the answers to those questions any more than I do.

“So, what made you pick Courage?” I called Violet last night after I went through Rafael’s things. I reassured her that I was fine and that Rafael was being a wonderful host. I didn’t want her to worry or think I can’t do this.

“Just drove in here one day, and it felt right. Someone told me that Courage is the place where every outcast finds home.” His phone rings, and he pauses so abruptly that I bump into his sweaty, t-shirt clad back. He’s so solid, so warm against my cheek.

Quickly, I straighten as he murmurs a curse under his breath. He answers his call but doesn’t move away from me. I can hear another deep voice on the other end. “Everything checks out. Aurora is a princess, and she snuck away to the States to find her prince.”

My heart pounds. He had someone checking into me. Does that mean that everyone knows I’m gone? How did his contact get this information?

“Do you want me to keep looking into your background?”

Rafael sighs deeply, and I wonder if he’s disappointed. “You won’t find anything but yeah, go for it.”

He ends the call without another word while I hold my breath. I don’t know what to say, and we stand for long moments. The silence is broken by the love songs from happy birds and the low drone of bees buzzing nearby.

Finally, he lets out a chuckle. “You’re royalty.”

Does this mean he’s going to treat me differently now? Will he become somber and stiff around me, like everyone else except for Violet?

“Yeah.” It’s the most undignified word I’ve ever said in my life. A princess doesn’t use casual slang, but I don’t care as I kick at the dirt with the toe of the too-big boot that Rafael loaned me.

He turns to me. Sadness flickers across his features. “I’m not who you think I am.”

I don’t bother arguing with him. If his contact was able to discover that I’m the princess, then he’ll soon have confirmation that he’s the prince. Will he shirk his duty once he knows? No, I can’t let him. I have to convince him that we’re meant to be before then.

“So, what am I supposed to do with you, princess?” He glances away from me, and it almost sounds like he’s asking himself the question.

Still, I answer. “You could start by feeding me.”

He nods. “Come on then. I’ll school you in the culinary art of peanut butter and jelly.”

* * *

“And this isa delicacy in your country?” I ask as I watch Rafael move around his kitchen, placing various items on the island.

“The best,” he insists, adding a jar of peanut butter to the counter.

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