Then, Freyja curse her, she could have divorced him. What would it have mattered? His child would have his name; the goal would be won.
Yes, Liv would have hated him, but he wouldn't have cared. Not in any deep way. He would hardly know her, after all. She wouldn't have let him know her, had she been his captive. Not a woman like Liv. She'd have fought him every step of the way.
But no. He couldn't simply take her and be done with it. He'd had to do it his way. He'd thought himself the smooth one, the one who understood the twenty-first century woman so well.
And now what? Now that her eyes told him so clearly, so regretfully, that she would never marry him. How in the name of all the nine worlds would he bring himself to carry her off and imprison her at Balmarran? Now that he loved her. Now that her happiness and high regard meant everything to him, more, even, than the right of his child to be born legitimate.
"By Odin's one eye, just say it," he demanded low. "Just tell me. Once and for all. Will you marry me?"
"Oh, Finn. You know I can't. I … I have things I … what I mean is, I just don't think…"
Before she could finish stuttering out her refusal, he turned and left her there.
"Finn!" Liv jumped up to follow as he disappeared into the other room. She took one step and faltered. The wand that proved she was pregnant was still in her hand. She looked down at it, shook her head and dropped to the edge of the tub once more.
Finn had been right. She had never really believed.
Until now.
In the other room, she could hear him moving around. She didn't understand his strange, abrupt reaction. It was so unlike him. Of the two of them, he was always the reasonable, levelheaded one. He took everything in stride, with a wink and smile and a clever remark.
She ought to get in there and talk to him, find out what was going on with him, but right at that moment, she was in no condition to find out anything. Right at that moment, she was, quite simply, reeling.
A baby…
It didn't seem possible. It wasn't … in the plan.
Liv wasn't the one who was going to have the babies. Not for years and years yet. Elli was the one who'd have all the kids. In any case, Elli was supposed to have three or four of them before Liv got around to deciding if, just maybe, she dared to add a baby to all the other heavy responsibilities that would come with her powerhouse career.
A baby came under the heading: Hope so. Eventually.
After I'm established…
If I find the right husband, a nice, settled-down type of guy, a guy willing to change diapers and get up close and personal with the downside of parenthood: things like colic and late-night feedings, ferrying them around as they got older, taking them to the pediatrician and the orthodontist, checking into the best schools, monitoring their homework, making sure they ate right…
God. The list went on and on.
True, she'd been telling herself for two weeks that she might be pregnant. That maybe it was something she'd have to come to grips with soon.
But might and maybe were worlds away from the two solid blue lines in the little white wand.
It was real. It was going to happen. She was having a baby.
She tossed the wand into the trash and then sat there some more, hunched on the tub's edge, staring at the bath mat beneath her bare feet.
The sound of the door shutting downstairs brought her up straight.
Finn must have left.
She sighed and let her shoulders droop again. In a while, later today, she'd give him a call. Ask him to come back over. They'd talk about it, about…
Well, she wasn't sure exactly what yet. She was on overwhelm right at the moment.
She got up and went back to the bedroom. She climbed into the bed and pulled the sheet over herself and told herself she'd feel better about everything in a little while.
* * *
The ringing of the phone woke her. She almost let her service get it, but then realized it might be Finn.
She fumbled on the nightstand and brought it to her ear. "Yeah? Hello."
"Liv, are you sleeping?" It was Ingrid, in a thoroughly accusatory mood. "You sound like you're sleeping."
Liv scrambled to a sitting position and raked her hair back out of her eyes. "Mother, what's the—"
"Finn has gone back to Gullandria. He simply packed his bags and left."
* * *
Chapter Twelve
« ^ »
"I don't understand it," Ingrid cried. "Did you have a fight, is that it?"
Liv was having a little trouble absorbing this. "Mom. Wait. Tell me what happened. What did he say?"
"I really thought the two of you were getting along so well. I thought—"
"We were. We are."
"Well then, what went wrong?"
"Look. Will you please just tell me what happened?"
"Well, he came in. He went upstairs. About twenty minute later, he came through the kitchen loaded down with all his bags. He thanked me for my hospitality. He said it was time he went back where he belonged."
Liv just didn't get it. It all seemed unreal, the way he'd walked out on her earlier. And now this, taking off for Gullandria without even saying goodbye to her.
Ingrid continued. "I followed him out to his car, under the pretext of seeing him off. I asked if there was a problem, something wrong between the two of you…"
Liv gulped. "And?"
"He told me not to worry. That everything was fine. And then he thanked me again and said he had to leave." Ingrid made a small sound of distress. "Darling, please. You can tell me. Did you have a fight?"
"No. We didn't. Honestly."
"But then what could be wrong?"
Liv didn't know. And if her mother kept grilling her, she was going to scream. "Mom. I can't … talk about it right now. I have to go."
"Are you all right?"
"Fine. Really. I just have to go."
After another volley of frantic protests and pleading questions, Ingrid finally gave up and said goodbye.
Liv turned off the phone and yanked the sheet over her head. She'd go to sleep. She'd sleep all day and right through into the next night. As long as she was sleeping, she wouldn't have to think about what the heck she ought to do next.
But sleep played its usual tricks. Naturally, since she longed for it so much, it refused to come.
After an hour or so of staring at the underside of the sheet, she got up and made breakfast. She sat at the table in the kitchen alone and wished Finn was there. She missed him already. She also wanted a chance to yell at him for walking out on her like this.
And wasn't that just like a player? The going gets tough and the player gets lost.
Maybe she should have given him a real reason to run. When he asked her to marry him that last time, in the bathroom this morning, she should have looked him square in the eye and said yes.
But of course, she couldn't.
A marriage between them was never going to work. She had her education to finish here in America, and after that, years and years worth of important goals to accomplish. And he had his castle, his troublesome sister, his long-suffering grandfather and his legions of feminine admirers in Gullandria. And never the twain shall meet, as they say.
He was a gorgeous hunk of man and she would miss him.
But maybe it was for the best that he was gone. She needed to start getting used to the idea that he wouldn't be around forever, that he wasn't the kind of man she could count on. And now, with a baby to think of, on top of all the rest of it, a man she could count on was the only kind she had any business getting near. Liv rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher and went upstairs to take a shower.
A few hours later, she called her mother and explained that yes, even she believed she was pregnant now. And she wanted Ingrid to accept the fact that she wasn't, under any circumstances, going to be marrying Finn. Finn had said it himself: he'd gone back to where he belonged. She wished him well. A
nd now she planned to get on with her life.
* * *
Finn flew to Gullandria in His Majesty's Gulf-stream.
The jet had been right there, waiting, at Executive Airport, during the entire two weeks Finn had spent in America. The king had ordered it to remain on standby in anticipation of the happy moment when Finn would bring his bride back home.
Instead, he boarded alone. Within an hour they were cleared for takeoff.
It was 3:20 a.m. when they touched down in a cool, misty Gullandrian semidarkness.
Finn was getting off the plane when Hauk Wyborn stepped up to him. "His Majesty would speak with you, Prince Danelaw. This way."
It was not a good sign when the king's warrior appeared to escort a man to the king. But Finn didn't object. His objections wouldn't change a thing and a meeting with the king—destined, no doubt, to be unpleasant—was inevitable, in any case.
The black car was waiting. Finn ducked into it and Hauk slid in behind him.
Hauk spoke to the driver and they were off, rolling across the tarmac toward the road. Through the tinted windows, Finn spotted the knot of reporters not far from the gate that led to the terminal. How sad for them. Up so early on the scent of a story, and Hauk had herded him into the car before they got a chance to snap their pictures and shout the usual thoroughly intrusive questions.
Finn turned to the giant warrior beside him. "You look well, Hauk. I'd say marriage agrees with you."
Hauk allowed one dip of his big golden head. "Yes. I am indeed a fortunate man."
Finn let his mouth twist into a wry grin. "Let me take this, er, rare opportunity to congratulate you."
"Thank you."
The warrior stared forward. Finn did the same. The car cut through the windless misty night.
* * *
At the palace, Hauk made himself scarce once he'd escorted Finn to the king's private audience room.
Osrik was waiting for him, resplendent, even at four in the morning, in a fine gray pinstripe designer suit with a red tie. Medwyn stood nearby.
"Prince Danelaw," said the king. "Welcome." His stern expression belied the word of greeting.
"Your Majesty." Finn saluted.
"You surprise us," said the king. "Back so abruptly. Without forewarning. And without my daughter."
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Finn, because he felt some sort of response was called for, though, in fact, he had nothing at all to say.
"What news do you have for us?"
"Sire, none at all. It was time I came home, that's all. Once full daylight comes, I'll go on to Balmarran. I want to check on my sister, assure myself that she hasn't yet managed to drive my poor grandfather mad."
The king, wearing an expression that was far from benign, studied Finn for several endless seconds. At last he said, "My daughter. Has she agreed to marry you, then?"
"No, my lord. She hasn't. She's said no repeatedly. I've become quite certain that no is what she means."
"She won't agree to marry you—ever?"
"That's right, sire."
"You're sure of this?"
"I am."
The king frowned. "Are you telling me, then, that the Freyasdahl signs have been proven wrong in her case?"
"No, Your Majesty. Your daughter carries my child."
"And she won't marry you. She refuses. You're certain of this?"
"I am."
The king heaved a deep sigh. "Then it's as I told you from the first. You will have to take her." The king paused, waiting for Finn to agree with him. Finn didn't. The king looked at him darkly and went on. "It will be more difficult now that she's back in America. You should have listened to me, Finn. She'd be at Balmarran now."
"It doesn't matter."
The king's frowned deepened. "Doesn't matter? What's this? Of course it matters."
"I don't intend to take her."
The king stood very still. "What did you say?" His deep voice vibrated with barely leashed fury.
"I said, sire, that she's chosen not to marry me. She wants to stay in America and raise the child on her own. I think she'll make a fine mother. Your wife, the queen, will make certain she has everything she needs. Liv—and my child—will thrive."
A rumble of rage rose from the king's throat. "You would make of your own child a fitz."
Finn kept his face resolutely expressionless. "It's America. The child will suffer little stigma there. And I refuse to claim a wife against her will."
There was a moment of echoing silence. The king looked at him as if he had lost his mind. And maybe he had.
Then the king commanded, "You will go for her. You will take her. You will keep her until she's wed you and the child is born."
"I am sorry, Your Majesty. But no. I will not."
* * *
Liv's phone rang in the deepest part of the night.
She bolted upright in bed and cried out, "Finn!" before she came fully awake and remembered he was gone and she was getting over him.
She grabbed the receiver on the third ring and barked into it, "What?"
A crackle of static, then Brit's voice. "Don't tell me I woke you."
"It's two in the morning here, did you know that?"
"Well, yes. I admit, I did. But I've been … developing my sources around here."
Liv wasn't getting it. "Your sources?"
"All right, I'll be crass. My spies. I have spies of my own now. Believe me, around here I need them—and Elli's here."
"With you?"
"Uh-huh. I'll put her on in a minute."
"Okay. Good—spies? You have spies?"
"You got it."
"So, you have news for me, is that it? From these spies of yours?"
"Yes. And Elli confirms it."
"Confirms what?"
"That father's had Finn Danelaw thrown into Tarngalla."
Tarngalla. Liv couldn't believe it. "You're not serious."
"Oh, but I am."
Liv recalled her first sight of the stone fortress about ten miles north of Lysgard, on a treeless stretch of land. The edifice itself had looked impenetrable, its forbidding aspect made more so by the high electrified fence surrounding it, coils of cruel barbed wire on top.
Finn had been with her that day. "Watch your step," he'd warned. "Do murder and get caught, perpetrate a dastardly crime against the state—and Tarngalla awaits. Parents of naughty children have invoked its specter for centuries now. 'Keep up like that, young man, and it's Tarngalla for you…'"
Liv was suddenly wide-awake. "Father threw Finn in prison?"
"Isn't that what I just said?"
"But why?"
"We don't know yet."
"We?"
"Me. Elli—we're trying to find out."
"Did you ask Father?"
"It was only early this morning that it happened, from what we've been able to piece together. Dad has been unavailable since then."
"I'll bet," Liv muttered.
Brit said, "Elli and I got together on it. We decided we ought to let you in on the situation."
"I can't believe it. Finn in prison. Are you sure?"
"I heard it from more than one source before I tried to get in to see Dad. Elli heard about it from Hauk—she'll explain that in a minute. Anyway, she and I have been talking. We figured you'd be interested—given the reports that you two are in love, engaged and getting married any minute."
"Don't believe everything you read in The World Tattler."
"But he was there, right? Staying with Mom, hanging around with you on a daily basis?"
"Yes."
"And I—" Brit cut herself off. "Okay, okay…" Her voice had grown slightly fainter, as if she'd stopped speaking into the mouthpiece. She must be talking to Elli. Then she spoke into the receiver again. "Hold on."
"Liv?" Suddenly it was Elli's voice in her ear. "Are you okay? Brit says … there's a baby."
Liv's throat felt tight. Maybe it was the pregnancy. She'd be a walking waterworks if she didn't wat
ch herself. "I'm fine. And yes, I'm pregnant. Barely."
"Oh, Livvy…" It was all there in Elli's voice. Joy. Anxiousness. Just a hint of envy—after all, Elli was supposed to be the first one to get pregnant.
"Ell?"
"Um?
"How are you?"
"Wonderful. Truly. The happiest woman alive." Even over the phone, her joy in her new life with Hauk came across.
"I'm glad for you."
"Thank you—and about Finn." Elli's voice was all business again. "Let me tell you what I know. Hauk was sent to meet him at the airport with orders to escort him to Father's private chambers. Evidently it didn't go well. Hauk was summoned again, along with two guards that time, to take Finn to Tarngalla."
"But why?"
"Livvy, we don't know. Not for certain."
"What do you know?"
"That Finn displeased the king. Greatly. And I think…" The sentence trailed off in the middle.
Liv prompted, "What? Tell me."
"Well, it has to be about you. Hauk met Finn at the plane. Why would father summon him like that, at three in the morning, if not to grill him about you and the baby and you two getting married? Which reminds me…" Elli hesitated, delicately.
Liv made a growling sound. "Oh, go ahead. Ask me."
"Are you marrying him?"
"No."
"But why not?"
"Ell, you are such a complete romantic. He lives there. I live here. Until he found out I was pregnant, we both knew we'd never see each other again. He's not ready for marriage. I'm not ready for marriage. We did a stupid thing and now there's a baby on the way and a baby on the way is not reason enough for two people with nothing in common who would otherwise have just walked away from each other to decide they have to spend their lives together. Enough said?"
"Do you love him?"
Liv cast her gaze ceilingward. "I knew you'd ask that."
"Love changes everything."
"I'm sure, for you, it has."
"You haven't answered my question. Do you love him?"
Did she? And did love even matter in this case? She shook her head. "It's not the issue."
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