She stiffened as he slipped his hand around her waist and drew her close.
“See, now? We cannot have you looking uncomfortable with me. There has to be a casual relaxed ambiance about us. The romantics will want to see a happy future bride and an attentive fiancé,” he said.
Erika pulled back, trying to escape Christian’s embrace, but he held tight. She finally took in a deep lungful of air, unable to hold her breath any longer. Her senses reeled at the heady scent of him that was pure desire.
“Perhaps we should spend more time alone, just to become better acquainted,” he murmured.
His offer was tempting, almost irresistible. How easy it would be to allow herself to give into desire. To take this fantasy and plunge with it fully into a world of make believe. A world where Christian and she were lovers. That when he touched her body, she would know only the burning heat of his soul-deep aching need for her.
No. No. This was madness.
She put a hand to his chest and pushed, all the while praying he would finally understand how difficult this was for her. He might well be able to play this role, an actor on the stage who had a part learned by heart, but she could not. Every moment spent with Christian was one of torture.
“I think they will buy the tale of two star-crossed lovers without us having to make much of an effort. I promise to smile at you when required, even laugh at your jests. However, I draw the line at us spending time alone together,” she replied.
“Why?”
She had few weapons at her disposal to keep Christian at bay, and she was determined to use them only if necessary. This moment called for her to wield one of them. “Because when this is all said and done, in all likelihood I will be going back to Sweden to an uncertain future. Your brother may not want me anymore. So, I beg of you, don’t put me in a position where you spoil any chance that I may have in finding happiness with another man.”
Christian released his hold and stepped back. The pained look on his face couldn’t have been worse if she had struck him. “Believe me, Erika, there is not a day that goes by when I am not reminded that you are not destined to be mine.”
Chapter Seventeen
Erika nodded in silent response to Christian’s worried frown. They were both nervous. This was a big night for them. Her father and Baron von Rehausen had been received by the Prince Regent on only the rarest of occasions. Neither had been invited to dine with him at a private party, which made this evening even more important in the ongoing efforts to secure a trade deal.
After alighting from their carriage in the courtyard of Carlton House, they waited to be escorted inside by one of the royal footmen.
Christian offered Erika his arm. His gaze ran up and down her pale pink gown. It was new—a gift from him. As was the pearl and pink silk choker which sat at her throat.
“You look absolutely beautiful tonight, Erika.”
A thrill of heat raced along her spine at his words. There was something about the way he said her name that always gave her goose bumps.
If you had any idea what it does to me when you say Erika, I think you might blush. Get a hold of yourself, Erika. This is the first of many nights where you are going to have to play out this fantasy. Remember none of this is real.
A tall, thin gentleman dressed all in black approached them. He gave a cursory once-over of her, then turned his attention to Christian. The man bowed low and long before him. “Your Royal Highness, I am Sir Richard Sandy the Prince Regent’s private secretary. Would you please follow me?”
Erika and Christian exchanged a hopeful look. The man might well think it suitable to be dismissive of a lesser foreign noble as herself, but he clearly knew enough about Christian to show him all the respect his royal bloodline was due.
Once inside, they were shown through a doorway which led to the most stunning and lavishly decorated room Erika had ever seen. She had grown up around the elegance of the royal palace in Stockholm, but nothing could prepare her for the Gothic-themed dining room of Carlton House.
It took a minute or two for her to take it all in.
Everything, including the ornate columns which stretched to the roof along both walls, was either painted gold or had been rendered in gilt. The windows which faced out onto the gardens were edged with red and gold drapes, tied back with gold sashes. The whole scene was one of expensive opulence. Only the fine cream lace window panels provided any real respite from the almost overbearing color scheme.
While Erika was busy trying not to stare openmouthed at the spectacle, she was relieved that Christian was somehow managing to take it all in his stride.
“Ah, my guests. How wonderful.”
She turned and her gaze settled on a plump male form. The Prince of Wales strode into the room. Several other men dressed all in black followed behind at a respectful distance.
The state of the Prince Regent’s clothes was an interesting contrast to the rich elegance of the décor. He barely fit into his vest, the buttons of which were partly undone. His deep blue jacket was left open, there being a good seven or eight inches between where the two front panels failed to meet.
Christian clapped his heels together and bowed low. The Prince Regent in return gave a mere nod of his head.
Erika studied the exchange. While it was polite, she noted that there was a clear line of distinction as to whom was the more royal of the two princes.
“Your Highness, may I present my fiancée, Countess Erika Jansson,” said Christian.
The slow salacious looking over she got from the Prince Regent made her want to go home and have a long hot bath, but Erika held her nerve. She lowered her gaze to the floor and dipped into a deep curtsey.
“Erika—what a delightful name. And may I offer the heartiest of congratulations on your recent betrothal. I do so enjoy watching a young couple in love being able to look forward to a happy marriage,” said the prince.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied.
More people soon began to arrive in the room, and Erika spent the best part of the next forty minutes making small talk while introducing Christian to the other guests. Remembering all their names and titles was a tiring task, but one which she put her every effort into. From the small smiles and nods she garnered for herself during that time, it was clear Christian appreciated having her assistance.
When she caught the eye of Lady Lynch from across the room, Erika gave a nod. She was wary of the cabinet minister’s wife but had to acknowledge the role she had played in getting them admitted to Prinny’s inner circle. Without Lady Lynch, she doubted Christian would have got this far.
Finally, dinner was called, and everyone took their seats. After the obligatory toast to the king and queen, the Prince Regent rose to his feet and addressed the gathering. “My lords, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome. I also extend a special welcome to my distant cousin Prince Christian of Sweden who is my guest of honor this evening. For those of you who do not know, Prince Christian and I are related through my mother’s side of the family—the German side.” He lifted his champagne glass and saluted Christian, who in turn got to his feet and bowed low before resuming his seat.
Those seated at the table politely applauded.
Course after course of dining delights soon appeared in front of Erika. She sampled a little from each before setting her cutlery down and waiting for the plate to be cleared. Her late mother had instilled in her the need to eat and imbibe little at these sorts of functions. She would take a light supper and a glass of hot milk when she got home.
The Prince Regent, clearly not subscribing to the same school of thought, was busy working his way through a mountain of food and champagne, his speech becoming more garbled with every glass.
He and Christian attempted several conversations in English, with Erika stepping in and assisting as required. At one juncture, they moved to conversing in French, but as the night drew on and the Prince Regent got slowly more drunk, he reverted to his native tongue.
“It’s nice to have a proper representative of Sweden in London. I know there isss an envoy, but this job requires someone with the right amount of royal blooood. Sir Vincent Lynch tellsss meeee you want a trade agreement. Well these things need men with blue blood in order to get them done.” He pounded the table with his fist. “Royals understand thiss,” slurred the prince.
Christian glanced at Erika and she gave the barest nod in his direction. She had a strong grasp of English, but even she was struggling to understand the prince at times.
“Baron von Rehausen has done an excellent job with as much as he has had to work with over the past few years,” replied Erika.
The gentleman opposite her snorted. “Yes, well, he would do better if he stopped tupping his wife. The man has a fast-growing brood of Swedish brats. I swear that house of his will surely explode if he has any more children.”
Several of the guests tittered at this unkind remark.
Arroganta jävlar.
Erika kept her face placid while she silently cursed the man. Much as she would like to have taken the gentleman to task, it was not her place to defend the baron.
Christian picked up his wine glass and said nothing. She was proud of the way he was handling himself tonight. It was the first real opportunity she had been given to see him in diplomatic mode. He was not going to take the bait and start an argument with another guest.
The Prince Regent downed the last of his champagne, and with tears shining in his eyes turned on the impolite gentleman. “I will have you know that I am one of fifteen children. All of them brought into this world with love by my parents. And the three of my siblings whom I have lost, I mourn greatly.”
Oh god, there goes the evening.
The prince dabbed at his face with his napkin, then waved to a nearby footman. “More champagne. I need my glass filled.”
The rest of those seated at the dining table sat utterly dumbstruck. No one said a word, even Christian appeared caught wrong-footed by the prince’s sudden morose turn of mood.
Erika, who had experienced the depths of grief following the death of her mother, stepped in to fill the void. “Prince Christian is one of seven children, and I know his family are very close. I may be an only child, but it is obvious to me that the size of your family does not matter when it comes to sibling affection.”
The prince reached out and gently patted her hand, smiling through his sheen of tears. “Yes, you are so right, Countess Erika. My heart has simply grown over the years as my brothers and sisters were born.”
He glared at the poor unfortunate who had first raised the issue of Baron von Rehausen before leaning back in his chair.
The whole assembly flinched as he suddenly raised his hands and clapped them loudly together. “Enough of this maudlin chatter. I need a happy moment. Prince Christian, I am going to hold an engagement ball for you and the delightful Countess Erika. It shall be here at Carlton House this Friday, and everyone who is anyone will be invited.”
Erika curled up her toes in her evening slippers and let a slow, soft smile come to her lips. Across the table from her, Christian held his hands together in a gentle clasp. “That is a most generous gift, Your Highness. You honor us with your kindness,” he replied.
While he and the Prince Regent had conversed without the use of formal titles during the earlier part of the evening, his quiet change to offering respectful deference was a stroke of diplomatic genius.
The prince wiped more tears away. “It is but a trifle. Only a fool would refuse to celebrate such a perfect love match. Just remember that when you have your own brood of fair-haired children, that you might wish to name one of them George.”
“It would be both an honor and a pleasure,” replied Christian.
A procession of footmen now appeared in the doorway, each carrying a small silver tray. Upon the trays sat several small glasses filled with flavored ices. While the other guests were busy exclaiming their delight at the desserts, across the table from one another Erika and Christian locked eyes. The evening had been an outstanding success. Her father and the baron would be beside themselves with glee when they heard the news that the future king was going to host a special ball just for Christian and Erika.
The Prince Regent waved his dessert spoon in the air and exclaimed, “And someone do something about organizing some trade negotiations with these lovely Swedes. We need to look after family. Lord knows how hard it is going to be once those bloody Russians arrive.”
Erika decided she would name all her future children George.
Chapter Eighteen
Erika was fast asleep at the table when Christian arrived in the dining room on Thursday morning. She raised her head and squinted at him. Sunlight streamed through the window.
“Oh, what time is it?” she asked.
He took his pocket watch out of his forest-green vest and flicked it open.
“A little after eight.”
“I must have drifted off at some point,” she said.
Four days wasn’t long enough for the Swedish contingent to capitalize on their plans and maximize the impact of the engagement ball on the treaty negotiations, but they did what they could. Erika and Baroness von Rehausen had spent hours working through the guest list after it had arrived from the Prince Regent’s private secretary.
The work the two women put in to noting who was who in London society was worthy of a battle strategy. By late Wednesday night, they had given Christian detailed briefings on the most important people he was to meet at the ball, noting those who would be involved in the trade talks.
Erika had bid the baroness good night then returned to the dining room intending to finish writing up some notes, but instead she had fallen asleep.
A crick in her neck had formed while she’d been slumped over the table. Lifting her head and moving it from side to side, she tried to release some of the tension.
“Here, let me help you.” He came and stood behind her chair.
“Hmm?” What did he mean?
His warm, masculine hands gave her all the answers she would ever require. Erika closed her eyes as Christian began to work wonders with his fingers, slowly releasing the knot of tension. If she had been a cat, she would have purred. “That is so good. You have magic hands, Christian.”
He chuckled deeply. Knowingly. Far too wickedly. Heat pooled in her loins at his masterful touch. If only he could do to the rest of her body what he was doing to her neck.
Don’t stop. I could sit here forever.
“You need to take better care of yourself. We cannot have you arriving at the ball tomorrow night with dark circles under your eyes,” he said.
Erika snapped back to the now. This was not the time for her to be lost in a fantasy that would never eventuate. She had a job to do. A serious one that had grave repercussions for her country if she and Christian failed. “I will make sure to take a nap this afternoon after Baroness von Rehausen and I have finished going over the guest list one last time,” she replied.
A mewl of disappointment escaped her lips as Christian released her from his attentions. He dropped into the chair next to hers. “I am serious. Your health is important. And you have to let me shoulder more of the burden of preparation as well. The list you ladies have put together is invaluable. I sat up late last night going through my copy, doing my best to get a mental picture of who is who in my mind. But you must remember, people are coming tomorrow night to see the blushing beauty from the north. We can’t have you looking tired and haggard.”
She batted him on the arm. “Fräcka djävulen!”
He gave her a naughty wink, then wagged his finger at her. “English please. We must practice at every opportunity.”
“Alright then. You are a cheeky devil.”
The grin he gave her in reply set her heart racing at a fast clip. He was such a lovely man. Handsome but also with a kind soul.
There were so many things about Christian she would sadly miss when their time t
ogether was over. But soon enough she would be getting on the boat and traveling back to Sweden, leaving him behind once more.
Only this time it would probably be forever.
Chapter Nineteen
Christian had come to the conclusion that English was probably the most difficult language a non-native speaker could attempt to master. He had been taught quite a number of its rules, but unlike French or Latin there appeared to be an inordinate amount of exceptions to them. Consistently speaking and writing it seemed the only way to make progress.
He learned quickly to quietly and patiently accept Erika’s corrections when he got things wrong. But his English was improving and every day he was feeling more comfortable.
If only he could say the same for his obsession with Erika. He thought of her constantly, found often frivolous reasons to seek her out and then spend time with her.
His frustration grew daily. While she was doing everything to help ready him for the treaty negotiations, it was always at a polite distance.
If only you weren’t so damn good at focusing on the task at hand. Then I might stand a chance to just sit and stare into your blue eyes and perhaps make you think differently about me.
“Are you ready to leave?”
He stirred from his musings as Magnus stepped into the foyer of the house. Christian’s gaze lingered on the count for the briefest of seconds before it settled on the woman standing next to him.
Erika.
She was breathtaking in a silk confection which hugged every single one of her curves. Her gown was a dark silver, matched perfectly by the silver and sapphire tiara which she wore. Not a wisp of her fine blonde hair was out of place. She was every inch the elegant noblewoman.
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