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  But I didn’t have time to dwell on that. Madame Odette was twisting me this way and that, making me stand on a footstool for better access, wrapping an ancient looking ribbon with markings on it that could only be a measuring tape around my waist, my arms, my chest. Whew, was it getting hot in here? I had my arms held straight out to the sides while Madame had her measuring tape wrapped tightly around my, well, breasts, when the chattering in the room suddenly stopped. All the ladies stood up to curtsy and I remained standing like a scarecrow in the middle of a cornfield in Kansas, face turning a nice shade of beet red as I realized the prince had entered the room. I glanced at Genevieve whose face changed dramatically at his entrance. She started toward him. Good, maybe they’d both go away.

  “Ahem,” he cleared his throat, coughing into his hand, obviously trying to stifle a laugh at the peculiar scene he’d just walked right into. “My apologies, ladies,” he continued after he’d regained control, “but I was looking for M’moiselle Blanchet.” He looked at me then and I thought it kind of funny that he was still struggling for composure. He bowed my way, “Monsieur da Vinci is seeking your company today, m’moiselle.”

  “Ah, yes, well…,” I hedged, trying to wriggle out of the measuring tape still frozen in place on my bosom. The movement snapped Madame to attention and she realized she still had me in her grasp. She whipped the ribbon from around my form and turned with a flourish toward the prince, narrowly missing him with the measuring tape that cracked like a whip inches from where he stood, causing him to take a step back in caution.

  “Why of course, Prince Charles! Forgive me, for we were just finishing up with m’moiselle. Such a beauty! Ees she not?”

  “Er, yes, quite, Madam,” Prince Charles answered.

  Oh man. Was there a hole I could crawl into? Chalk this one down to one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. She turned back to me, still talking, like a freight train that couldn’t be stopped.

  “Just you wait, ma petite! Every eligible noble from here to England will beg for your attentions!”

  “Um, OK,” I stammered. “That’s uh, great.” Stepping down from the stool, I straightened my skirts and slipped my shoes back on, trying very hard not to look at the prince. I glanced at Nicole whose eyes were nearly bubbling over with tears of mirth. She held her middle like she was trying to hold in her laughter. Shaking my head, I threw an exasperated look her way. Chantal was chewing on her knuckles, clearly also trying not to laugh, while poor Fleur stood fanning her face that was probably as red as mine felt. However, Genevieve did not look amused one bit. I cleared my throat, trying to overcome my discomfort.

  “And where shall I find M’sieur da Vinci?” I asked, walking forward to exit the room as soon as possible.

  “I was sent to escort you, m’moiselle,” Charles replied, with a nod of his head.

  “But Charles,” Genevieve moved forward grabbing hold of his arm, at the same time all the ladies in the room gasped at the familiar way she addressed him, using his first name, “you promised we’d go riding today.” She made a very convincing pout, with big sad puppy dog eyes.

  “Yes, M’moiselle Touraine.” No one missed the way he addressed her in return, as he patiently extracted his arm from her viselike grip. “I shall return for you directly.” She stepped back from him with a smile of triumph, seemingly satisfied that he would at least be coming back for her. Then he held out his arm for me to take a hold of, turned, and escorted me from the room.

  * * *

  “Don’t you have servants, or something, to do such a menial job as escorting someone about the castle?” I had to wonder why he was always the one taking me from point A to point B. But also, I was trying to get the image of the scene he’d just stepped into out of my head. And the embarrassing shade of red to fade from my face.

  “Yes, m’moiselle, of course,” his answer sounded clipped, “but if you’ll remember, I don’t quite trust you as yet.” I had to roll my eyes at that. Seriously?

  “Right,” I replied, trying not to sound as irritated as I was by this statement. Geez, he needed to lighten up a little. What was I going to have to do to earn this guy’s trust? At least he wasn’t gripping my arm like before. That was something. Maybe.

  A heavy silence hung between us and we walked farther away from the queen’s rooms. I was struggling to find a topic of conversation to break the uncomfortable silence.

  “So, uh, nice weather we’re having today,” I ventured. Stick to the weather, always a safe topic.

  The prince didn’t answer right away. Instead, I felt him beginning to shake next to me. We turned the corner and he headed straight to some doors leading outside. He pushed them open and suddenly he could hold it in no longer. He burst into full-out laughter, doubling over at the waist, putting his hands on his knees for support. The action was so out of character for him, I folded my arms amused at his outburst.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I asked him haughtily, doing my best to imitate my mom’s most effective down-the-nose look, “but are you laughing at me?” He straightened and walked farther into the garden, trying to regain his breath.

  “Yes,” he said simply, still chuckling. “Yes I am. Oh, but that was…” He looked at me, shaking his head. He couldn’t finish his sentence as another bout of laughter overtook him. I stalked off on the pathway ahead. Fine, he could have his fun on my account.

  “Wait,” he said, following me. “You must admit, the scene with Madame Odette, it was rather humorous.” I turned to look at him and caught my breath. The sun seemed to make his eyes sparkle, the smile transforming his face altogether. My traitorous hands itched to touch the dark stubble that outlined his square jaw. I clenched my hands into fists to stop myself. Get a grip, Izzy. I gave myself a mental slap and then returned the smile.

  “OK fine. It was funny. Hilarious in fact.” I shook my head remembering, not able to keep the smile from my face. “But isn’t it a law of etiquette or something that you’re not supposed to laugh at a woman in obvious distress?”

  “Hmm, I suppose it might be. You’ll be wanting an apology I’m guessing?” he asked, his solemnity beginning to return, which was really too bad. It was kind of nice to see him let go.

  We continued walking down the path. In the distance I could see a bend of what must be the Loire River, sparkling in the late morning light. It was beautiful. A long grassy hill was the only thing between us and it. Suddenly, I had the urge to see it close up. Maybe, just maybe, I could lighten up his mood and gain more trust at the same time. Stepping on the grass, I bent down to take off my shoes and feel the soft grass between my toes. I hadn’t put my silk stockings back on and I was glad of it at this moment.

  “Yes, you most definitely owe me an apology,” I finally answered. “Or...” I looked at him, throwing him a mischievous grin.

  “Or what?” he asked, skeptically, folding his arms across his chest and raising a quizzical brow.

  “Or…,”–shoving my shoes under my arm, I grabbed hold of my skirts–“you’ll have to race me to the river!” I yelled over my shoulder as I started running across the damp grass toward the river, taking him by surprise, which had been my intention. I looked back to see if he took the bait, and sure enough, he was following, a smile of determination on his face. Then he started to gain on me. So not fair. He didn’t have to run with all this fabric on!

  Even more determined, I picked up speed and ran faster. After years of early morning daily runs with my dad, I was a fair runner, Nikes or no. I loved the feel of the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the air pumping into my lungs, the adrenaline pushing me faster, further. Just as I crested the hill and could imagine myself flinging my arms wide, twirling and singing about hills being alive, the prince caught up and grabbed me by the waist. We fell to the ground together on impact and rolled down the hill in each other’s arms, the prince tucking my head into his shoulder for protection. As we neared the bottom, the hill leveled out and we slowed to a stop. The prince landed on
his back trying to catch his breath, his arms still around me. I looked at his face from my perch on his chest and laughed.

  “We really must stop meeting this way,” I joked, looking into his face, remembering that first night I fell from a chair into his arms. Before I knew it, he grabbed me and rolled so his face was now above mine as he leaned on his elbow.

  “I cannot believe,” he started to say.

  “Believe what?”

  “You, m’moiselle…” he said, between breaths and shaking his head in bewilderment.

  “Me, what?” I questioned, starting to wonder if he ever actually answered questions.

  “...are unlike any woman I have ever met,” he finally answered, as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. I could feel it had come undone and lay spread out all around my head. I’m sure I looked a right mess. But his eyes became serious as he looked at my face.

  “Well,” I swallowed, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, “I’ve always thought that being the same as everyone else was overrated.” I was mesmerized by the feel of his touch as he traced a finger from my forehead down my cheek to my jawline, rubbing my chin lightly with his thumb. The butterflies decided to kick it up again, entranced as I was by his eyes following his fingers and looking right at my lips. Which I’m sorry to say, were open and tingling with wanting to be kissed. Oh man, which was just wrong, so wrong! I shouldn’t be wanting a kiss from someone who wasn’t Zeke. Should I? So I bit my lower lip and struggled to a sitting position to break the spell. He sat back himself, looking at me curiously. I made a big show of brushing the grass and dirt from my skirts and shaking out my hair, brushing through it with my fingers.

  “This seems a hopeless mess,” I broke the silence, as I shook my long auburn waves over my shoulder.

  “Hopeless?” he countered, “Perhaps. But a mess? Now that, would be a matter of opinion.”

  “Is that so? Do I dare ask for an explanation?”

  “Well I’m sure your lady’s maid would scold you and grumble about the mess you’ve made of her careful arrangement for the day. But, ask any man, and he would tell you to leave it just as it is.”

  “Any man, hmmm?” I questioned. “Even, would you say, a prince who doesn’t give away compliments freely?”

  “I’d have to say especially a prince who doesn’t give away compliments freely,” he replied with that serious look back on his face. Darn those dancing butterflies, making me jittery. Would they quit it already?

  “In that case,” I shook my hair once more, twisted it and brought it over one shoulder, “should such a prince come along, I’ll keep it in mind.” I winked at him. He reached out, grasped my arm in his, and pulled us to our feet in one smooth motion, my skirts swishing and settling around me. Before letting go, he leaned toward my ear.

  “You may have noticed, I didn’t disagree with Madam. You are, indeed, very beautiful,” he whispered. And then he touched the vein in my neck that had clearly jumped at his words, letting me know that he knew I’d been affected by his words, try as I might to hide it.

  “Well I shall take your word for it,” I countered, trying not to be flustered. Oh, be still my stupidly beating heart. I looked around to see if I could locate the shoes I must have flung somewhere. I found one near a tree, picked it up, and continued my search for the other. The prince began looking around as well.

  “Do you take beauty for granted, then?” he inquired, scouring the area for the lost shoe.

  “No. I just don’t put much merit in it. After all, it’s not who I am. It’s not what defines me. I don’t want to be a painting or a statue to be looked at and admired for the paleness of my skin, or the color of my hair. It’s what we make of our lives that counts, not the way we look, or, sorry to say, the nobility of our birthright. Ah! There it is!” I pointed at the shoe a quarter of the way up the hill.

  He stared at me, with a baffled look on his face. “Stay here,” he said, “I’ll fetch it.” I got a nice view of his backside as he hiked a bit back up the hill.

  “Your way of thinking intrigues me,” he continued the conversation on the way back down, a shoe in his hand. “Please, do go on.”

  “Well,” I continued in my thoughts, leaning back against a tall tree trunk, dappled sunshine filtering through the leaves, “you may see a woman of beauty beyond comparison, whom all the world admires, but on the inside, she is a mean, calculating witch.” I’ll admit, Genevieve’s face flashed through my mind. “On the other hand, you may find an ugly man, covered in warts and boils like a toad, whom people shy away from because of the way he looks. But slowly they learn to love him because he listens when someone needs to talk, or is the first one to help when someone is in need. He uplifts those around him, and in doing so, in their eyes becomes the most handsome of princes. A very wise woman once said, ‘true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul.’” Or she will say it in the future that is...The wise woman was Audrey Hepburn, one of my idols.

  He continued to look at me incredulously. Was this forward thinking in the 16th century? I had no idea. But he bent over and lifted one of my feet off the ground, slowly brushing off the dirt and slipping my shoe back on. Doing the same to the other, then standing again. Shocked by the gesture, I was feeling very much like Cinderella.

  “So,” he said, as he took my arm and we continued to stroll to the bank of the river, “are you warning me to stay away from beautiful women for fear of being caught in the clutches of a witch?”

  “Well,” I said, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s a fair warning. You never know. On the other hand, my mother used to tell me a story of a princess who had to kiss many a toad before she found her true prince.” We stopped at the edge of the river, mesmerized by the sparkle of the sun on the water as it rolled lazily by. He turned to me.

  “Will you do the same then, in search of your prince?”

  I smiled, picked up a rock near the river, turned it over in my hand to find it flat enough. I flicked my wrist and skipped it across the river, bouncing it one, two, three, four, five times before it sank to the bottom. I looked at him then. Goodness, why did he always look at me with that surprised look? Has he never skipped rocks before?

  “Actually, I never said I was looking for a prince,” I replied. “What? Why do you always look at me like I’m an alien from outer space?”

  He bent down and found a flat rock for himself, then flicked it across the river to follow mine. It bounced six times and he looked at me with a smug smile. I raised an eyebrow. Oh it’s on! I thought, finding a handful of rocks. We stood side by side, companionably skipping rocks, each trying to beat the other in skips. I finally got to seven, and then he upped his to eight. We each depleted our handfuls, and laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. He glanced down at me then, still smiling.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “For what?” I asked, surprised.

  “For a few moments of laughter, and honesty. Where I forgot that I was a prince of the realm, the dauphin, next in line for the throne, under the constant watchful eye of a father looking for signs of leadership. Or failure.”

  “Ah,” I replied. “Then, you’re welcome. Any time.” I held my hand out to him for a shake. “Friend’s then?” I asked. He hesitated slightly, but grasped my hand in his and shook it once.

  “Friends,” he replied.

  “Now that we’ve got all that worked out,” came a startling voice from behind us. We hadn’t even heard him approach.

  “Leonardo!” Prince Charles exclaimed. “I’m so sorry for the delay!” he apologized, dropping my hand.

  “Yes,” da Vinci replied sarcastically. “A man my age could have died waiting for such a simple request.” But he smiled at the prince in jest. Then turned to me. “Hello again, my dear.”

  “And hello to you!” I curtsied in return, still not believing I was speaking to the real Leonardo da Vinci.

  “Come!” he gestured back toward the hill. “I believe my contraption is ready to fly.” He amble
d toward the hill. I looked at the prince and shrugged. Looking back at da Vinci’s retreating form, I noticed tucked under his arm what looked like delicate wings, and in his hand a ball of string. Immediately, I knew what they were.

  Alrighty then. Let’s go fly a kite, I thought. And followed Leonardo da Vinci up the hill, Prince Charles following behind me.

  Chapter 10

  Sitting before the fire, safely settled in a new room located in a different wing, I stared into the flames enjoying the warmth. I never knew how cold castles became at night. Makes sense, being made of stone and all. Still, not something you think about in the 21st century. I sat with my feet pulled up underneath me on the chair, wrapped in a nightgown and robe for warmth. I had sneaked a smaller lute, one that reminded me of a ukulele, into my room. Absent-mindedly strumming it, I thought about the events of the day and smiled. Strangely, it had been a good day, starting with the ridiculous dress fitting in the queen’s rooms, the race to the river with the prince, skipping rocks and flying a kite...

  It had felt wonderful to run back and forth on the hill, actually instructing Leonardo da Vinci how to fly his own kite. The kite had been beautifully constructed to look like bird wings. I’d had the impression it was an experiment for something far greater, like a hang glider maybe. The string was tied intricately on either side down the center of the kite, so that you could tug one way or the other and make it turn this way or that. The first few tries to get it airborne were humorous trials in error. We got it up just high enough for it to take a nosedive and nearly decapitate the prince.

  “It’s all about the timing!” I tried explaining. I showed Prince Charles how to let out the string a little at a time while we ran, me holding the kite behind him, and then how to tug and continue running when I let go. Da Vinci stood to the side, cheering us on.

  “OK, ready?” the prince asked.

  “I have every confidence you will make it fly this time!” Leonardo said, clasping his hands together.