The Lark Taps Twice

Chapter 11: Introductions, Finally

Miriam sighed and shivered when the handsome not-so-strange-anymore stranger withdrew from their kiss, and an invisible ice cube cooled her lips. His arms clenched her tight against his heaving chest before relaxing away, one hand stroking down her bicep, elbow, and wrist to curl around her fingers, unexpectedly fisted into his shirt just above his hip. Her forehead dropped to his collarbone, and she fought herself for composure.

"Come, my lady," his voice rasped above her. "There is much to accomplish before evening arrives." A low chuckle vibrated her upper body as he added, "I have never felt so eager for nightfall, nor looked forward so fervently to retiring to my bedchamber. It must be a good omen for my success." Under his breath, he repeated, "It must be."

He stroked her hair and nudged her gently off his lap and stood beside her, maintaining only his grasp on her hand, which he squeezed twice in quick succession. Miriam shook herself out of her trance and eased her death-hold on his shirt, keeping her head ducked to hide the flush that must stain her cheeks, despite the sharp chill flooding most of her skin. Seeing the sunburst of wrinkles where she'd crushed the fabric in her fist, she made to tug her hand from his, embarrassed by the evidence of her loss of control.

Rather than relinquish his grip, the man rotated his hand until he could interlace his fingers with her. Again, he squeezed twice quickly, and the assuring gesture gave Miriam the courage to meet his gaze. His warm smile told her he wasn't worried about the state of his shirt, and she let him lead her across the hall to the gallery he had directed Jim to a few minutes before.

As they entered, Jim joined them from a narrow door on the opposite wall. He'd had to turn sideways to exit the portal, so slender was the doorframe. He grinned as he approached.

"I don't think the original owner of this place had me in mind when designing that room," he laughed. He sent a pointed look at their joined hands and winked. "I see you two got some talking done while I used the facilities. Is there more talking to do, or would you rather I made myself scarce?"

Another double squeeze of my hand nailed my feet to the floor before I got farther than contemplating if I should run from the room in embarrassment or agree that Jim's best move was to head back to the Jeep to check on the animals. In contrast, my anchor was all business when he responded to Jim's query.

"Actually, there is much we need to discuss together, and much to do if we are to be successful in turning back the tide of evil overwhelming this place and undoubtedly tearing my own world to shreds. First, I think we neglected to introduce ourselves in all the chaos of the moment. My lady, would you grace me with your name?"

Butterflies erupted just behind her sternum at his old-fashioned grammar, and she couldn't hold back a smile as she answered, "My name is Miriam Rogers, but you can call me Mir if you like."

He lifted their clasped hands and kissed the back of hers with a grin. "A unique name for a particularly unique lady." He let their arms straighten but kept his fingers snug around hers as he focused on Jim. "And who is Miriam's formidable companion?"

"I keep the shop on the other side of the Fort. My name is Jim Logain, and my family have lived here for generations, though I am a bit ashamed to admit that I have only rarely ventured to this side of town, and I've never been in here. Nice place you have here, mister...?"

The gallery owner's face tightened as Jim's voice trailed off. "How rude of me. I neglected to properly introduce myself when you arrived." His dark eyes caught Miriam's, an impossible swirl of understanding and reluctance overflowing from their depths. "Of course you were so confused by my actions, more than I expected; you didn't know who I was."

He went quiet, staring into her eyes for several breaths until resolve replaced all other emotions in his fascinating orbs. He squeezed her hand twice, slowly this time, and shook his hand free of hers. Not quite meeting her eyes or Jim's, he took a single step back and inhaled deeply.

"May I present myself, the crown prince of Dyza, Jonatham Anthony Magarious the Third, at your service."

He sketched a formal bow and froze, and Miriam had the strangest feeling he hesitated to rise out of fear of their reaction. For her part, she was stunned to hear he was a prince and a bit off balance at the strange place name, but neither made her think any less of him; in fact she felt honored to be called the soulmate of a royal, regardless of where he said he was from.

She reached forward to touch him, reassure him in some way, but Jim beat her to it. He stepped close and grabbed the prince's hand where he'd pressed it to his side to bow. He proceeded to vigorously shake the limb even after he straightened his back and smiled nonplussed at Jim.

"How-wee! A real live prince, right here in our town! My grandfather talked about royalty visiting here now and again when the fort was operational, but he never mentioned any who'd stuck around and settled down! It's a great pleasure to meet you sir, and if there's any way I can help you, say the word and I'll be there! Such an honor-"

As Jim rambled on, the confusion faded on the prince's face, replaced with pleasure and then realization. He interrupted Jim with, "Excuse me, was your grandfather Francis Logain?"

Jim's jaw fell open. "You knew my grandfather? How -"

"It is of no consequence. He was quite the mechanical genius. Did you inherit his talent in that area?" The prince leaned forward slightly, his expression intensely hopeful.

"Of course it did!" Jim puffed his chest out. "Every first born male in in the past six generations was practically born with a screwdriver in one hand and a wrench in the other. There's nothing I can't build or fix, given the right materials and tools."

"Perfect! Come with me at once! This way!" The prince pulled out of Jim's grip and waved him toward the main hall. When Miriam would have hung back to look around the gallery a little longer while the men talked shop, the prince would have none of it. He strode to her side and pushed her gently after the lumbering shopkeeper, leaning close to whisper, "I don't intend to let you out of my sight any time soon, my lady. Remember, I pledged to be at your side whenever possible, and this is not a circumstance which requires us to be separated. Come."

If I were to stamp my foot and demand to stay here to have some more time alone to think, to process, I know he would let me. I have a gut feeling this man would give me anything in his power to bestow. But what do I want?

The pleasant warmth filling her torso from his firm touch on her lower back tugged her toward him, even as her storming confusion sucked at her like a tornado, demanding she pay attention, alone. With only a moment to choose, she decided to pick the option she found most appealing.

She half-turned toward the handsome otherworldly royal so his hand left her back, and she grabbed it, entwining their fingers before he could speak again.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."