Promised to the Swedish Prince
Page 15
His fingers toyed with her hair. “Tomorrow morning, we will have to go and see a few people.”
Erika lifted her head and met his gaze. Her father would of course be one of them. She wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Christian had got straight out of bed after having made love to her, quickly dressed and gone to speak with the count. She was glad he didn’t. “Apart from Pappa, who else do we need to speak to?”
“The Reverend Ferrner for a start. He will need time to make the wedding arrangements at the church. And then Baron von Rehausen to make sure we have his blessing on behalf of the king,” he replied.
Typical of Christian that he wasn’t going to waste any time in getting matters between them formalized. She loved that he was both impetuous and decisive. The tiger’s eye ring was already back on her finger.
“Once we have a date organized, you will have to attend to all those womanly wedding matters, such as your gown,” he added.
Erika softly chuckled. “And what manly things will you have on your plate?” she asked.
Christian shifted in the bed, pulling the blankets farther over their rapidly cooling bodies. Erika reached up and kissed him tenderly on the lips before laying back down and snuggling against the soft hairs of his chest. She could get easily used to cuddling him.
“I will have plenty to do, including composing a couple of letters. I shall have to write to King Charles and give him a full account of the trade negotiations. But messages will also have to go to my father. And Gustav.”
She didn’t envy Christian that last task. Knowing Gustav, he would not take kindly to the news of his brother marrying the girl he had chosen, and thought was his.
“I shall also write to your brother. Since we came to England, I have sent him only one letter and that was because my father pressed me to do so. I had hoped my silence might give him a clue as to my disinterest in a union with him, but it clearly didn’t. It is only fair that he hears from me, and that I apologize.”
Despite everything that had happened between the three of them, she would soon be part of the Lind family. Erika didn’t want the ongoing tension between the brothers to result in a permanent schism.
“Thank you. Hopefully by the time Gustav and I do see one another again, time may have helped to heal some of the things between us,” he replied.
Erika smiled. “You really have become quite the diplomat.”
“I still have a great deal to learn, but with you by my side I am sure I can be a success. No. We can be a success. I love you, Erika. None of it matters unless you and I are together.”
“I love you, Christian.”
Silence descended between them. Christian’s breathing slowed and became a steady rhythm. Erika glanced up at him, smiling at his peaceful face. Her fiancé was asleep.
Theirs was no longer a fake engagement. He truly was hers. And the promises they had made to one another tonight would soon be solemnized by their wedding vows.
Sleep well, my love, my handsome Swedish prince. You are finally mine.
Epilogue
April 1817
Stockholm
* * *
“Look, George, there is the palace. That is where your farmor och morfar live.”
From where they stood on the deck of the Northern Lion, the sight of Stockholm Palace as it loomed over the landscape was breathtaking. Even the threatening grey snow clouds which hung low overhead could not spoil the view.
Seven-month-old Prince George gave his father a blank look. Christian turned to Erika and scowled. “My son does not understand the Swedish words for grandparents.”
She patted her husband gently on the arm. “Don’t worry. I expect this trip home will have him spending a lot of time with your mother. Rest assured, his first words will be in Swedish.”
It had been over four years since Erika had last set eyes on Stockholm harbor and the palace. A lifetime ago. So much had changed in her world since then.
She glanced over to where Magnus stood on the other side of the deck, his eyes shining bright. He had made the journey home with them but was still unsure as to whether he would remain in Sweden or return to England when she and Christian eventually did.
The arrival of baby George in September of the previous year had meant that her life was continually shifting. The one constant, however, was Christian. Her steadfast love for him and joy in their marriage had brought her happiness that she had once thought impossible.
The chill wind bit through her fine woolen cloak and Erika shivered. One of her first tasks as soon as they stepped ashore would be to purchase a thick Swedish fur coat.
England’s weather was kinder than here. In the garden of their new home, Erika had been able to grow the kind of delicate flowers that would not survive the harsh northern climate. Christian had proven himself a canny investor in the various new projects which the trade agreement with England had created, and his financial skills had allowed them to purchase a larger home for their growing brood.
“Don’t tell me you are cold, my love. The mild winters of London have softened your Viking soul,” he teased.
“I think you broke the last of my Viking soul when you crashed that sleigh,” she replied.
Whenever Christian got a little too cocky for his own good, his wife was always ready to remind him of that day.
“I apologize.” He slipped an arm about her, pulling her gently against him. He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
Erika grinned up at her husband. “Forgiven, but not forgotten.”
She rubbed a hand over the swell of her belly. Another child would arrive in the coming months, likely born here in Sweden.
But her home was now in England, working alongside Christian in his new role as envoy. Baron von Rehausen had given up his commission as Swedish envoy to Great Britain and retired. This journey home was in order for Christian to receive his official commission from the king.
Christian pointed out another landmark to his infant son, who showed as much interest in it as he had done with the palace.
“If you were not with child, I would offer to take you out on another sleigh ride while we were here,” said Christian.
Erika snorted. “And you know what I would say to that.”
The sideways glance he gave her had Erika shaking her head. Christian held George out in front of him and made a silly face. The blond-haired cherub giggled.
“Well it looks like it is just you and I going on a sleigh ride adventure, young Prince George,” he said.
You could take the wild Swedish prince out of his homeland, but you could not fight the fierce Viking blood which flowed in Christian’s veins. England might well be their home now, but this was the land of their forebears, their heritage.
She would just have to trust her husband to keep their son safe.
Erika took in a long deep breath. She was sure she could smell the heady scent of the spruce forests which surrounded the Swedish capital. The icy shores of Lake Mälaren beckoned to her.
“On second thoughts, if you are prepared to drive at a sensible pace, I shall come with you and George for a sleigh ride,” said Erika.
“Ah, so you are finally ready to trust me again in the battle of man against the frost giants. Is that a promise?”
Erika nodded. “As long as you don’t go throwing me through the air, then yes, it is.”
Freya nuzzled against her leg and she bent and gave the dog a friendly pat. George squirmed in his father’s arms and pointed at the Lapphund.
“Fre,” he said.
Christian’s eyes grew wide, while Erika laughed. She had a sneaking suspicion that George’s first words were not going to be pappa or mamma.
The little family huddled close against the wind and freezing chill. Erika caught the glint of excitement in her husband’s eye, and her heart skipped a momentary beat.
Christian was returning home a successful diplomat, a true son of Sweden. To Erika it didn’t matter where they were in the wor
ld as long as they were together. Home to them was not a place, it was where their hearts were bound.
Thank you for reading! I hope you loved Erika and Christian’s story.
* * *
The next book in the London Lords is
AN ITALIAN COUNT FOR CHRISTMAS
* * *
Count Nico de Luca has been blessed with wealth, power, and a seductive Italian body. But he has never been luck y in love. Can Nico break his love curse with the beautiful English widow Isabella Collins?
Turn the page to read the first chapter of An Italian Count for Christmas.
* * *
Rockstar Romance meets Historical Romance
Regency Rockstars
When faced with a dangerous new rival, Regency London’s hottest lead singer is forced to place his singing career in the hands of a sexy widow.
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* * *
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Also by Sasha Cottman
The Duke of Strathmore
Letter from a Rake (ebook and audio)
An Unsuitable Match (ebook and audio)
The Duke’s Daughter (ebook and audio)
A Scottish Duke for Christmas
My Gentleman Spy (ebook and audio)
Lord of Mischief (ebook and audio)
The Ice Queen (ebook and audio)
Two of a Kind (ebook and audio)
Mistletoe and Kisses
Regency Rockstars
Reid
Owen
Callum
Kendal
London Lords
Promised to the Swedish Prince
An Italian Count for Christmas
Devoted to the Spanish Duke
An Italian Count for Christmas
London 1815
Count Nico de Luca leaned over the side of the ship, the letter crumpled in his hand. Fat raindrops soaked his knuckles. It had rained continually from the moment his ship had sailed into the English Channel.
“Nothing changes in this miserable country,” he muttered.
Lifting his head, his gaze took in the dirty, crowded docks of London. He snorted at the sight. As a boy arriving from Italy all those years ago, his first bitter memories of the great English city had been of grey skies and the foul-smelling River Thames.
The stench filled his nostrils and assaulted his mind.
All about him on the deck, the ship’s crew were making ready for the ship to berth. The first mate bellowed out a long series of orders. Nico looked up at the captain standing at the ship’s helm. The captain gave him a nod of respect in return.
As owner of the ship, it would be easy enough for Nico to simply tell the captain to turn the ship around and sail straight back to Italy. After getting his first glimpse of London in seventeen years, he was sorely tempted to do just that. But a promise was a promise. And Nico de Luca did not make promises lightly.
He looked down at the letter in his hand. It was a brief note. There was little need for Alessandra to say much more than was necessary. She didn’t love him, she never had. Her wishes for him to find love and happiness were genuine, Alessandra was not unkind.
“Cheer up Nico. She is not the first woman to have broken your heart. At least she had the decency to break off the betrothal. Be happy for her that she married for love, not just money. Your world has not ended, it just feels like it,” he consoled himself.
While he was blessed with the kind of body that would make the angels weep, Nico had been inexplicably cursed in the game of love. At age thirty- two he knew he should be long married and with a home full of children, yet here he was still sailing the seas with no one to share his cabin.
He screwed the letter up into a tight ball, then taking a step backward he pitched it over the side of the ship. There was no use in reading Alessandra’s note yet again.
He walked away from the ship’s railing but found himself returning to look over the side. He caught sight of the paper as it bobbed on the water one last time before finally disappearing under a dirty brown wave caused by the ship’s wake.
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling at one with the paper that was now on its way to the bottom of the river.
Alessandra was gone, along with her letter. All that remained of their ill- fated love affair were the scars on his heart.
He pushed away from the ship’s railing for a second time but this time managed to keep walking. Opening the door of his cabin, the words his father had spoken to him on the dockside in Italy slipped into his mind.
London is where I found your mother, perhaps the love of your life is also waiting for you in England. Do not give up hope Nico. The mother of my grandchildren is somewhere out there, you just need to go and find her.
Frustrated, he pushed the thought away.
“No Papa, I am done with love. Money shall be my mistress from now on. She is steadfast and not fickle like women.”
When the time came that he felt he could no longer delay the issue of marriage he would find a kind Italian noble woman to bear his children. He would keep her in jewels and fine clothes and be content. Contentment would have to do. Love he was certain had forsaken him.
* * *
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About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Sasha Cottman was born in England, but raised in Australia. Having her heart in two places has created a love for travel, which at last count was to over 55 countries. A travel guide is always on her pile of new books to read.
Sasha’s novels are set around the Regency period in England, Scotland, and Europe. Her books are centred on the themes of love, honour, and family.
Please visit her website at www.sashacottman.com
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