Promised to the Swedish Prince

by Sasha Cottman

  “Christian, if you stay with the horses, I shall make sure that my father sends some servants to come back and help you,” said Erika.

  He forced a smile to his lips for her benefit. Countess Erika Jansson—ever the diplomat, ever the peacemaker. Her kind words pulled him from his moment of self-indulgent pity. The last thing he wanted was for Erika’s memories of this day to be of pain and him being petulant. “Thank you, Erika, but my dear brother is right. I shall manage the problem. I was the one who crashed the sleigh.”

  He was more than capable of unhitching the horses and riding them the two miles back to the imperial stables at the royal palace. Two miles through the bitter winds of a cruel Swedish winter. If he was half frozen by the time, he made it out of the freezing cold, it would serve him right.

  When he did get home, he would have to face Count Jansson’s ire. And then his father. The superior look on Gustav’s face told him that news of the accident would be conveyed to Prince Stefan long before his youngest son got within sight of Stockholm Palace.

  He could take his punishment. What he couldn’t stand was knowing that he had hurt Erika. That and the fact he wouldn’t have time to make proper amends. “I am sorry, Erika. I ruined today, and I hurt you,” he said.

  She gave him that shy smile which had always made his chest tighten. Gustav threw a blanket over Erika’s lap and nodded at her. Countess Erika Jansson was exactly where his brother wanted her to be. By his side.

  Gustav gave an unhurried flick of his whip and the sleigh pulled away. Christian stood rooted to the spot long after they had disappeared from view. Anger and frustration coursed through his veins.

  The anger was mostly reserved for himself, and a little for Gustav.

  “One last day and you had to go and ruin it.”

  He turned and surveyed the remains of his sleigh. There was a huge crack down the middle of the brush bow and one of the runners had torn completely away. It would take many hours to repair.

  At least the horses had escaped unscathed. Reaching inside his long woolen cloak, he produced a small, leather knife hold. With the sharp, short hunting blade, he cut the tangled reins away, freeing the cold, frightened animals. He patted both beasts, offering them soothing words of comfort.

  “It’s alright. Don’t be afraid. Come on. Let’s go home.”

  Balancing on the side of the broken sleigh, he hoisted himself onto the bare back of one of the horses before taking a hold of the other set of reins and lashing the animals close together.

  Somewhere up ahead on the road back to the city, Prince Gustav was no doubt working his charms on Erika. Promising that when she and he next saw one another, they would discuss marriage. That she would one day be a princess, not just a countess.

  “I wish she were my princess, not yours,” he muttered.

  He cursed himself. He had been blind to his feelings for Erika for far too long. His refusal to acknowledge his heart’s desire until now would cost him dearly.

  “You are a fool in love for her, and a fool with no time left.”

  He dug his heels in the side of his horse and began the long, cold ride back to Stockholm Palace. He had ruined this last day with the Swedish countess, and all hope was gone.

  Tomorrow, Erika and her father would be on board a ship bound for England.

  He had lost any chance he might have had with her, and he had no one else to blame but himself.

  Chapter Three

  The following morning, Erika stood out the front of her home in Storgatan waiting for the last of the travel trunks to be loaded onto the cart and taken down to the docks. She leaned against the brick wall just to one side of the front door, her swollen and injured knee unable to bear weight for too long.

  “Are you ready to leave?” asked Count Magnus Jansson.

  She turned from her quiet study of the goings-on out in the street and gave him a short nod. It was difficult to find much more than that in her heart, everything was becoming all too real. Within hours, they would be well on their way to Denmark, after which they would sail on to England.

  When will I see the blue skies of Stockholm again?

  “Yes, Pappa. I just have to get my travel bag,” she replied.

  He slipped an arm around her shoulder before dropping a kiss on her forehead. Today was a momentous day for them both. For Magnus, it was the beginning of a long-held ambition to serve the King as a foreign diplomat; for Erika, it was the time to say goodbye to childhood friends and the only home she had ever known.

  “Prince Gustav sent word that he is coming down to the ship to see you off. Isn’t that wonderful news?” said Magnus.

  Erika mustered a second nod for his benefit. “He didn’t have to. I did say goodbye to both him and Prince Christian last night at the farewell dinner.”

  Her father leaned in close and met her gaze. He gave Erika one of his paternal I know what’s best for you, looks.

  “Don’t talk dumheter. You know it is only proper that he does. When we return to Sweden in four years’ time, his father and I are both hoping that you and he will become reacquainted. A royal connection through marriage would open many doors for the both of us,” he said.

  Erika fixed a tight smile to her lips. Now she understood what Magnus and Prince Stefan had been discussing last night. For several hours they had sat at one end of the grand table and conducted a long conversation, much of which had included a great deal of nodding and smiles on the part of both men.

  But Pappa, the only doors Prince Gustav is interested in are the ones which lead to your country estate. He doesn’t care about me—he just wants to inherit property. And now you are trying to play matchmaker and marry me off to him.

  She held his gaze. Pale blue eyes the exact same shade as hers stared back. “I know you would love nothing more than for me to become a princess, but please, Pappa, don’t give Prince Gustav any sort of encouragement.”

  He frowned. “Why ever not?”

  Erika paused for a moment. How was she to put this into words that wouldn’t alarm her father? He was currently in favor with King Charles and also Prince Stefan, so insulting a member of the royal family would not be a wise move. “Because he and I may not make a good match. We do not have much in common, nor have we spoken of shared affection,” she replied.

  Simple. Plain. And hopefully unoffensive.

  Magnus’s gaze fell on one of the household servants carrying his leather document satchel to their carriage. Once the footman had moved out of earshot, he leaned in and spoke clear and low. “Perhaps this time away from Prince Gustav might help you to see things differently. To understand that love is not all that marriage has to involve. When it comes to people like us, we need to think strategically, not with our hearts.”

  Erika understood her father perfectly. He was moving her into place to solidify his own power base. A royal daughter would open many doors for him, and grant Magnus favors beyond his current rank. But she was determined not to accept anything as being a fait accompli, especially not when she had time on her side. “Of course. I shall give Prince Gustav a fond farewell when we leave, but I will not be making any promises. Who knows what the next few years have in store for all of us? In that time, Gustav may find himself a pretty bride and forget all about me.”

  She could only hope so.

  The last thing she wished was to be placed in a position where others would expect her to marry Prince Gustav. Refusing a royal proposal of marriage—now that would surely cause offense. And her father would likely never speak to her again.

  You have four years in which to make your own fate. Try not to waste them.

  “I don’t see the need for you to also come here today. I could have seen them off myself,” snapped Gustav.

  Christian continued watching the sailors on the Northern Lion as they busied themselves about the deck hauling luggage and goods on board. He was not going to take the bait and start yet another argument with his brother. Nor was he about to do as his broth
er wished and leave before saying goodbye to Erika.

  “You said your farewells last night,” Gustav continued.

  Christian nodded. “Yes, and Erika was still in discomfort when I did. It was my fault she had to spend her last night at the palace laid up on a low sofa and not seated at the table. I want to make sure Erika is alright. It will be four years until I see her again—have a heart. She is my friend as well as yours.”

  Gustav and his petty jealousy could go hang.

  A carriage drew up alongside the ship and they both took a step forward. Christian got a sharp elbow in the ribs from Gustav for his troubles. With a sigh, he fell into line behind his older brother.

  Count Magnus Jansson climbed out of the coach. He lifted Erika and set her gently onto the stone of the dockside. Gustav gasped as the count handed her a walking cane.

  He turned and glared at Christian. “You, stupid fool, look what you have done!”

  They reached the Jansson family, and much to Christian’s chagrin, Gustav immediately turned on the charm offensive. He swiped off his hat and bowed low to them both. “It is such a relief that I have been able to catch up with you one last time before you depart,” he said.

  Christian gritted his teeth. His brother was always about I and not we.

  Forget about him for a minute. You must leave a favorable impression with her. Make Erika remember you with fondness, not distress.

  Erika tilted her head and looked past Gustav. She smiled at Christian. He glanced at her walking stick before giving her a pained, regretful look in return. “I am so very sorry, Countess Erika. I will never forgive myself for hurting you,” he said.

  Count Magnus shot Christian a hard glare. Christian had made his apologies the previous afternoon, but it was clear he was far from forgiven.

  He didn’t want to think how uncomfortable things were going to be for her trying to travel on a ship when she had a damaged knee. The constant rocking and rolling motion of the boat would make for an extremely unpleasant journey.

  Gustav moved to stand with Magnus and began to conduct yet another of his long, dry political discussions. Seeing an opportunity to speak to Erika somewhat privately, Christian turned his back slightly to his brother and stepped in close. “I pray that you are healed before you reach England.”

  “Thank you. But let us not part on poor terms, Christian. You can take heart from knowing you have given me the best excuse to sit and read while on board. My father will not be able to press me into making long turns about the deck,” she replied.

  She was being kind for his sake, but it only served to make him feel even worse. Why couldn’t she and the count depart next week? If he had more time, then he would be able to show her how truly sorry he was and how much he regretted her leaving. “I know you might be looking forward to your new life in England, but for me, today is a very unhappy day. I have been thinking a lot about you of late,” he said.

  “Have you?”

  He reached out and took hold of her hand, hoping that his brother was too busy to notice. “I just wish you and I had more time to talk. To perhaps take a different path to the ones that we are both now setting out on. It saddens me that the roads of our lives diverge at this point. That we may never see one another again.”

  His fingers itched to pull her into his embrace and leave a long, lingering kiss on her soft pink lips. If Gustav hadn’t been standing a mere three feet away, he would have thrown caution to the wind and done just that.

  Erika closed her eyes and dropped her head. A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away with her free hand. “The English writer William Shakespeare said, ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’ and I think he was right. I shall yearn for the wild beauty of Sweden, but I will especially miss you, Christian. I will do all I can to come back to my homeland, hopefully sooner rather than later. My only concern will be the possible circumstances of my return.”

  His brother and Count Jansson were shaking hands, making their final farewells. It was now or never. He leaned in and brushed a kiss on Erika’s cheek, then whispered, “Would it be acceptable if I wrote to you in London?”

  Her gaze shifted to Gustav, then back to him. “Yes, but don’t tell your brother. I don’t think he would appreciate it. Your father and mine spoke at length last night. It would appear that Gustav is set on me eventually belonging to him, and they are in agreement.”

  His heart missed a beat. Had he left things too late? “And have you given any sort of approval of that understanding?”

  “No. Not yet anyway.”

  Christian let go of Erika’s hand. He stepped back a mere second before Gustav pushed between the two of them and towered over her.

  “Countess Erika, I wish you a safe journey to England. I know you will make a success of your work in assisting your father. You do your king and your country proud by serving them,” he said.

  “Thank you, Prince Gustav. I hope I shall be up to the task,” she replied.

  Gustav cleared his throat and Christian’s stomach dropped. What the devil would he do if his brother suddenly got down on one knee and proposed to Erika right there on the dockside?

  “I have spoken with your father and he has agreed.”

  Oh no, please no. I couldn’t bear it.

  “That from time to time, I shall be able to send you letters of guidance and instruction. I think you will find my insights into animal husbandry and the running of an estate to be most illuminating. I trust that you will read my correspondence and in time come to a decision as to how best to use those lessons,” said Gustav.

  What?

  A look of dumbfounded shock and surprise appeared on Erika’s face. Gustav wanted to train her to be a wife. This was the best thing he had heard all day. So much for being the grand romantic and wooing a woman—Gustav wasn’t even going to bother with trying to win Erika’s heart.

  “Yes, don’t you think this is a marvelous idea, Erika? I am sure that you will find Prince Gustav’s advice to be of great use. Especially for when we return to Sweden,” said Magnus.

  “Yes. I mean . . . of course . . . Thank you, Prince Gustav,” she stammered.

  Christian kept his face as placid as possible, desperately hiding his glee at his brother’s ham-fisted words. He let out a long slow breath of relief.

  Thank goodness he didn’t propose to her.

  His new affection for Erika had only been a recent thing, but by the time that he’d realized it was more than just a passing fancy, it was too late. Her father had already accepted the position in London and Erika was determined to go with him.

  Gustav had unknowingly just bought him four years. Time in which he could write to her and build on their friendship. Time in which he might be able to win her heart—to steal her away from his brother.

  This is a sign from heaven. If Erika doesn’t leave Sweden officially bound to Gustav, then she is still free.

  Gustav could send all the letters he wished regarding how a wife should manage her husband’s house and estate. Meanwhile, he would be writing to Erika about life in Sweden, of their mutual friends, and over time, deepening their relationship.

  He glanced at his brother. What he was doing went against everything his father had taught him regarding his place in the world. As the seventh son of a seventh son, he was destined to sweep up whatever crumbs were left after everyone else had taken what they wanted.

  But Prince Christian Lind had now come to the conclusion that destiny was what a man made for himself. That he was not bound by fate.

  Gustav might well have made up his mind when it came to Erika, but it was clear that she had not resigned herself to be his wife.

  “Well, we had better be getting on board and making ourselves ready for the journey to Denmark,” said Magnus.

  Christian turned to Erika. He searched her face, trying with all his might to remember every single perfect feature and commit it to memory. Her long fair Scandinavian hair. Her clear pale blue eyes. Those lips.

&
nbsp; And a smile that brought a man to his knees.

  Leaning on her walking stick, Erika made a half-curtsey to Gustav as he bowed his farewells to her. He gave a brief nod to Magnus, who smiled in response.

  “Hopefully when we return, Prince Gustav, you and I shall have a formal discussion about my daughter and our plans for her future,” said Magnus.

  Christian’s teeth clamped tightly together at the obvious exchange. An agreement, a pact had been made between the two men. As soon as the count and his daughter returned to Sweden, a betrothal would be announced.

  But not if I have any say in it.

  Erika turned her back so only Christian could see her face. She mouthed a silent “No,” to him. He blinked slowly in answer.

  “Goodbye, Prince Christian,” said the count, offering his hand.

  “Ha en säker resa,” replied Christian.

  Erika smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, but you have to say, ‘safe travels.’ That is how the English make their farewells.”

  “But I am in Sweden,” he gently protested.

  Her eyes sparkled with mischievous promise. “Who knows? Some day you might visit England. You should brush up on your English, Christian. That way you will be able to impress everyone in London.”

  Brush up. Was that another strange English saying? What an odd language.

  Gustav threw a brotherly arm around Christian and chuckled. “I don’t think Christian will ever be allowed to travel outside of Sweden. Imagine the damage he would do to our international reputation if he did. I promise, my little brother will be staying right here at home and trying his best to keep out of trouble.”

  Christian offered his own tight laugh to Gustav’s words. “Yes, imagine me going all the way to England. I must confess, my English is not very good. I always used to hide when my tutor wanted to teach me languages. Apart from French, I never saw the use for anything other than Swedish.”

  “Perhaps Prince Gustav could make the trip. I am sure we could find suitable accommodations for him if he did,” replied Magnus.