What was she thinking? It had been nice right, living the Cinderella story? What were you thinking? Someone lends you their dress from their sister's dancehall days, you don some take peals, have your mate put up your hait.and all of a sudden you're a princess? It just doesn't work that way in real life. It can't if you don't feel it all the way, one hundred per cent genuine belief you deserve it. In real life she's just a sales assistant, a nobody who doesn't deserve this. That's what she feels, that's what she thinks now. Sure, there'd been a moment she'd gotten carried away with the dream, the excitement and romance. Who wouldn't when it's all paid for? Live in the moment they'd said, and she had..right up to the point the moment caught up with reality and she'd made the most awful mistake. She'd dared to kiss her prince. She'd made the move, plucked up the courage and determination. Beaten down her shyness and natural restraint and kissed him. Full on snog. No half measures. No thinking too long and hard, just gone with impulse. And his words in the middle of the dancefloor, witnessed by shocked revellers still ring in her ears as she ran.
"Rose, hold up, wait, no, no... I'd love to, you're a nice girl but.. I mean, she didn't even have the nerve to hear him out. As she grabbed layers of pink taffeta, hoisted her skirt and ran, she felt the pain of rejection and public embarrassment eating her up like fire. Heard the words "I'm married." as she was leaving with tears running down her face. She tried to stop them falling, she tried not to burnup with the heat she knew was in her face. But it was useless and she ran, out of the ballroom, down long corridors and into empty desolate castle corridors she knew were off bounds by the lack of soldiers and servants. And she just kept on running.
When she entered the room his eye caught this magnificent creature that reminded him of a wild flamingo. She had on this beautiful full length pink ballgown. She'd wrapped so many pearls round herself he knew they had to be fake even from that distance. But she had a bearing and yet a vulnerability which charmed him. It was like she was eager to come in and enjoy, but at the same time she was skittish, he could tell she wanted to run. So he walked over to her, put her arm in his and led her away before the vultures could gather. "I was wondering when you'd get here my dear, you look charming tonight. Tell me, how is your dance card for the evening, got room tor your first dance?" She looked confused, bewildered, as well she might. But he knew she wouldn't last five minutes in these shark infested waters. These social climbing predators were cruel and heartless. They generally spotted new bait a mile off and went in for the kill pronto. It was up to him to save the day, after all, he was the guest of honour and no request could be turned down without giving serious offence. And the moment he'd been closer he'd seen that pouty mouth and those emerald green eyes and realised she was quite a catch. So he was determined to monopolise her as much of the evening as he could. And that was how little Rose Tattersall from 6 Bilbury Road, Massachusettes, USA met Prince Raiph McDougal (the Third) of Scotland. Beware people! It can happen just like that.
Rose hadn't known what to think as this tall, dark and handsome stranger walked straight over to her and led her off. Away from the throng, away from the pretentious onlookers glaring and judging her. True, she felt there may have been some appraising her finesse and style. But she knew people. She was a good judge of them and the skill came in handy at the busy milliner's in which she worked. Her boss, a strict older lady by the name of Gertrude Hube, always said some people's heads were just too big for any decent hat to ever fit them. She could tell most of these here, as she drifted on the arm of a complete strange, were just such people. They were puffed up with their own self importance. It scared her a little. But tonight she was a fairytale princess in her best garb, so nothing was going to melt her resolve. She'd come to have a good time and that's just what she'd have regardless of their cutting looks and remarks. Tonight she didn't want to be Rose Tattersall, working class girl with few prospects. Instead she yearned to be simply Rose, wealthy looking heiress with likely prospects of a suitably influential marriage.
Little did she know that such aspirations were just what Raiph was avoiding. He was self-assured and made pleasant conversation. She felt confident in his presence but not over powered. He introduced her to guests in small select little groups. She noticed he'd picked the type of people who didn't seem so cold and judgmental. She wasn't sure who he was but they all seemed to know. She didn't like to ask anyone herself as it seemed rude when he was so personable towards her. So friendly. So nice and kind...and handsome. He had deep chocolate eyes that matched his hair. Was she to melt all this night. Melt into those eyes, those arms, that accent. A deep rumbling Scottish voice like a bumblebee that was drunk on fum. A funny, stirring, very masculine tone that you could hear above all conversation. He seemed to listen intently when she ever gave responses, and came to her rescue if she was ever about to flounder. He was excellent at this, his repartee made her head spin. He was cultured and elegant, confident and clever..all the things she was pretending to be she thought. And that was the slow steady path to her inner resolve breaking down. It was the mortar crumbling that held the wall in place that she'd put up for that night. It wasn't until he finally asked her to dance that she regained some of her strength. He led her onto the ballroom during a waltz, and they took to the floor in a blur.
To be continued.
