She removed her dress then stood and looked down at her layers of underwear. She removed her petticoat first, which she had had to roll up at the waist to keep from showing below her abruptly shortened skirt. The silk camisole came off next and that left her with a pink satin corset laced in tightly over a girdle, underpants, and hose.
She could not reach the laces of the corset, twist and turn as she might. She put her dress back on, picked up her slip and camisole, and left the trees.
He took one quick look at her and said, “Not enough off.”
“I will not—”
He turned her around, opened her dress at the back and cut away the fasteners on her corset. He pointed toward the trees.
Aria removed the rest of her undergarments and felt heavenly. The tight, restricting girdle, which left marks on her skin, came off, and the removal of her hosiery allowed her skin to breathe. When she put her dres
s and low-heeled slippers back on, she felt absolutely decadent. The silk of the dress against her bare skin felt marvelous.
Of course now the dress was a little snug in places. Without the heavy elastic confining her, she seemed to be larger in places—both top and bottom. She had never appeared in public without her foundation garments before. At fourteen, at the first sign of growing breasts, her mother had ordered foundation garments made for her. “A princess does not move about under her clothes” was what she had told her daughters. Except at night, in bed, Aria had worn them ever since.
She hesitated before leaving the cover of the trees, but then she put her head up, her back straight—and her eyes widened. More of her protruded than before. Well, if she ignored this fact, she was sure that dreadful man would also.
She was mistaken. He glanced at her as she entered the clearing, turned away, then looked back for a long, hard look. Aria ignored him. She turned toward the path to the beach.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the beach to watch for boats.”
“No you’re not. You’re staying here.”
“Lieutenant Montgomery, I do not take orders from anyone lower than a king.”
“Well, baby, I’m king here. I figure that if you have something the American government wants, then it’s my duty as a sailor to protect it. You stay here where I can see you and you don’t get out of my sight.”
Aria just looked at him then turned toward the path again.
He grabbed her arm. “Maybe your hearing doesn’t work too well. There aren’t just Americans out there. German submarines have been spotted in this area.”
She jerked away from him. “My cousins are Germans. Perhaps they will take me home to my grandfather. I don’t think I care for America anymore.”
The man stepped back from her and looked as if she were a monster. “We are at war with Germany,” he whispered.
“Your country is at war with Germany, mine is not.” She took a few steps down the path before he caught her.
“Look, you little traitor, you’re staying here with me whether you like it or not. And tomorrow when my friend comes, I’m delivering you to the government—to the United States government.” He took her arm and pulled her back into the clearing, then proceeded to ignore her as if there was nothing more to be discussed after his order was given.
She sat on the ground against a tree and waited. She wasn’t going to try to explain to this man who saw only his side of a problem, but every minute she delayed was taking months off her grandfather’s life. He would know by now of her disappearance and he would be very worried. He had trained his only son, Aria’s father, to take his place as king but he had had to survive the tragedy of the young man’s death when Aria was five. From then on, his hopes had centered on his young granddaughter. Aria had been trained to be queen. She had been immersed in history and politics and economics.
This man who now lay in his hammock reading thought he understood patriotism, but here he was enjoying himself while his country fought a war. No king or queen ever rested while his or her country was at war. The people looked to their royal family to set examples.
Her grandfather had been able to keep his country out of this awful war that waged through most of the world and he dreaded what the Germans were going to do if he sold the vanadium to the Americans, but Lanconia so needed the money. When Lanconia declared itself neutral in this war, it had cut itself off from the imports of the outside world.
This Montgomery had said Lanconia was mountains, goats, and grapes—and now the grapes were dying. Knowing how valuable she was, how likely a kidnap attempt was, her grandfather had still sent her to America—selling the vanadium was that important.
Yet here she sat, a virtual prisoner of this stupid man who was much too provincial to understand, and she could not get off the island.
She hoped the Americans would delay telling her grandfather that she was missing—but the American papers seemed to love telling everything.
She glanced up at the man and saw that he was sleeping. As quietly as she could, she left the clearing and went down the path.
She made it to the beach but the sun was going down and she couldn’t see very far.
Suddenly, she heard what was distinctly the sound of a motor. She took off running as fast as her feet would move. Around the curve of the island was a motorboat just docking, three men hauling it onto the sand. She raised her hand and opened her mouth to hail them but the next minute she was flat in the sand, a weight on her that could only be the lieutenant’s body.