Prince and...Future Dad

by Christine Rimmer

  "I was wrong. I know that now. What more can I say except please? Will you marry me? Will you give our child his father's name?"

  He stared at her for a long time. "You're certain? It's what you want?"

  "I am. It is."

  "To marry me."

  She nodded.

  He asked, "And then?" She glanced away. He knew her answer and said it for her. "You'll go back to America."

  "You could … come with me."

  His gaze caught hers, held it. "You could stay here, for a while—come with me, see Balmarran…"

  She shook her head. In the end, he had his life and she had hers. It wasn't going to be a marriage in the usual sense of the word. "Finn, I'm sorry. I have my internship to finish. I can't afford much more time away, or I'll have to sacrifice the units. And then there's the fall semester coming up…"

  For the first time, his eyes softened. "It's all right. I understand. You have your ambitions. And I want you to have them."

  Her heart broke a little then, because she believed him. He didn't want to take her dreams away. She bit back the tears and whispered, "Thank you."

  He reached across then, at last. "When?"

  She put her hand in his, glorying at the warmth as his fingers closed around hers. "Friday," she said. Gullandrians, if possible, always married on Friday, as Friday was Frigg's day and Frigg was the goddess of hearth and home.

  Finn nodded. "It is fitting. On Friday, then."

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  « ^ »

  The wedding was a simple affair. The guest list for the exchange of vows could be counted on two hands: the bride's sisters and their father, the king; Hauk and Medwyn; Eveline and Balder Danelaw.

  In the Viking way, the short ceremony took place outside, in the parkland below the palace. Liv wore a simple long pale blue dress and a traditional bridal crown woven of straw and wheat and garlanded with flowers. She and Finn exchanged swords as Viking custom decreed and then, on the ends of those swords, they traded rings. Following the Viking ceremony, a Lutheran minister presided over a swift exchange of Christian vows.

  With both sets of vows behind them, the small wedding party retired to the palace where a feast had been set out and more guests—princes and ladies currently in residence—joined the celebration. There were the rituals of strength and of fertility and a shared first loving cup of ale. There was dancing and a series of poetic recitations by two of Gullandria's most prominent skalds.

  Liv made a special point, as the evening progressed, to steal a few private moments with Finn's grandfather and then with his sister. The conversation with Balder went quite well, she thought. He was a large, gentle man with a surprisingly full head of white hair and a trim gray beard. He enfolded her in a bear hug and whispered in a gruff voice, "Welcome to our family."

  Eveline was another story. A beauty with long black hair and flashing blue eyes, her full mouth was set in a rebellious scowl.

  "Grandfather's a softhearted fool," Finn's sister announced when Liv came and stood by her and tried to share a few civil sentences. "But not me. I know His Majesty threw Finn into Tarngalla and I know it was your fault. And as soon as you marry him, you're leaving him, going back, to America. What kind of a marriage is that, anyway, if you live there and he lives here?"

  Liv hardly knew where to begin. "Eveline, I'm sorry you're upset, but really, what Finn and I will do with our lives is between the two of us."

  "You're sorry?" The girl made a small, disgusted noise in her throat. "I don't believe that. You're going and he's staying and that makes no sense at all. He tries to pretend it's all perfectly fine with him, but I know my own brother. It's not fine. He's not happy, and he always used to be happy. What did you do to him?"

  That one caught Liv completely off guard. "Nothing. I didn't—"

  "Oh, you needn't lie to me. I see right through you. And I don't like what I see. Soon I'll be off to train with the kvina soldars. Maybe I'll come looking for you in America someday."

  Liv had collected herself by then. She asked coolly, "Now, why does that sound like a warning?"

  "Because when I find you, I'll cut your heart out and eat it raw."

  Nothing would be gained, Liv reminded herself, if she grabbed this little witch around her pretty neck and squeezed until her manners improved. And Finn was coming toward them from across the room. "Here comes your brother now. Maybe you'd like to tell him about your grisly plans for me."

  Eveline stuck out her chin and yanked her shoulders back. "Tell him yourself."

  Liv leaned toward the girl and spoke for her ears alone. "I think not. I think this is his wedding day and a loving sister wouldn't ruin it by making an ugly scene."

  Eveline pursed up her pretty mouth all the tighter. "I'm not saying a word." She turned and waited for her brother.

  Finn closed in on them, grinning. "My two favorite women in all the world." He put his arm around his sister. "Having a good time, Evie?"

  "Wonderful." She slid him a sullen look.

  He shot a rueful glance Liv's way. "Isn't she a charmer?"

  "Oh, absolutely."

  He gave his sister's shoulder an affectionate squeeze and reached for his bride. "Come. Dance with me."

  Liv went into his arms, thinking with a stab of mingled joy and regret how very good it felt to be there. Too soon, she'd be thousands of miles away from him. He whirled her off across the floor and Eveline slipped from her line of sight. When again she had a clear view of the place where she'd stood with his sister, the black-haired beauty was gone.

  * * *

  At midnight, Elli and Brit and several of the younger ladies in attendance led Liv upstairs. They took her to the large, beautifully appointed suite where she'd been installed earlier that day.

  The four-poster bed in the master bedroom was wide and deep, covered in shimmering layers of white silk, the mahogany posts turned to look like coiling dragon tails, with intricately carved dragonhead finials crowning each one.

  The women helped her to change to a white silk nightgown and then put her in the bed. The men brought Finn up soon after.

  Liv remembered the laughter and bawdy exchanges when Elli and Hauk were bedded only three weeks before. This was a much more subdued proceeding, everything quieter, more sedate. Maybe it was the hasty nature of the wedding, maybe everyone knew that this union was one of necessity rather than one of true choice and thus they behaved more seriously, not that it really mattered to Liv. She liked it this way, minus the suggestive remarks and silly sexual banter. Within minutes, the men and the ladies were bowing from the room, leaving Finn fully dressed and standing near the door.

  In the quiet, bride and groom regarded each other. Liv's heart was racing and her skin felt too warm. She put her hands against her cheeks.

  Finn frowned. "Are you ill?"

  She shook her head. "It's crazy, but I'm so nervous. You'd think we'd never done this before."

  Finn smiled—a slow, very sexy smile. It was almost the same smile he used to bestow so easily. The only difference was the distinct note of sadness in it.

  She thought of his sister's words. He's not happy. He always used to be happy. What did you do to him?

  "Oh, Finn. Are you all right?"

  He winked. "Exceedingly so."

  Beside him stood a shield-backed chair. He dropped to the damask seat and removed his soft black boots. Then he stood and shrugged out of his velvet wedding coat. The fine ruffled shirt came next. He tossed both on the chair.

  Liv's breath got stuck in her chest. He was truly a beautiful man, so lean and strong, the muscles of his arms and shoulders sharply defined, his chest broad and deep, tapering to a tight, hard waist. And then there was that wonderful silky trail of hair that ran down the center of his torso, pointing the way to the delights below.

  "Why do you smile?" he asked.

  "Because you are so very gorgeous."

  He looked at her sideways. "As are you—though the bla
nkets obscure the view."

  Liv lifted the covers and tossed them aside. Then she dropped back to the pile of soft pillows and wiggled her toes. "Better?"

  "You have the most attractive toes."

  "Why, thank you, sir."

  His gaze caressed her, from those wriggling toes all the way up to her blushing face. "The gown is lovely. It clings in a most provocative manner." There was such heat in those amber eyes. Heat and knowing and humor … and tenderness.

  The truth she already knew came suddenly poignantly clear: Tonight was their first night as man and wife and also, essentially, their last.

  She would leave for America tomorrow. Perhaps, in the future, there would be passionate reunions. After all, she couldn't get enough of his touch and he seemed to feel the same about her. Such heat would not fade swiftly. It could burn on for years, this fire between them, rekindled whenever they met again, which, given the baby she carried, would be bound to happen now and then.

  She stared into his gleaming eyes. Yes. Such heat…

  But it couldn't last.

  And it would never grow deeper.

  For a true bond to develop, they would need time. They would need a daily striving together toward shared goals.

  With a continent and an ocean between them, what might have been would never have a chance to happen, let alone to grow.

  And eventually, untended, the fire between them would fade.

  Strange that she would think of this now, that she'd find herself missing what she hadn't even really considered before—a life with Finn, as his wife.

  He asked quietly, "What has happened to your smile?"

  Liv ordered the sadness away. They did have tonight. And she would make the most of it. "Why don't you … come closer?"

  He didn't move, only murmured, "From sadness to siren, in the blink of an eye."

  "Oh, Finn. Please." She held out her arms. "Won't you come here?"

  Still he held his ground, but the gleam in his eyes said much. In a low voice, he suggested, "Take off the gown."

  From her nest of pillows, she looked down the length of her body at the gown in question, then up at him, one eyebrow lifted.

  He chuckled. "Yes. That one."

  She slid her hands to her hips and took the fabric in either fist. Slowly she began to gather it up. He watched her.

  And she watched him.

  She felt the silky slide of the cloth whispering upward, over her shins, her knees, the length of her thighs.

  "Stop," he whispered, when the gown lay across her hipbones and the soft curls between her legs were revealed to him. He started for her.

  She let go of the gown and reached for him.

  * * *

  It was very late, nearly morning. The heavy curtains were drawn across the jewel-paned windows, letting in only a sliver of twilit glow from outside.

  Liv woke with a sigh and for a moment wondered where she was. Then she remembered. She slid her hand over to Finn's side of the bed. Nothing.

  She sat up. "Finn?"

  He appeared from the shadows, a denser darkness within the gloom.

  "Where were you?"

  "Right here. Sitting. Watching."

  "Watching me?" He made a low noise. She knew it for a yes. "Is something wrong?"

  "Not a thing."

  She didn't believe him, but he gave her no chance to argue the point. He caught the edge of the blanket and tore it back. His gaze swept over her, burning where it touched.

  His eyes had that predatory, feral look in them, the look she'd first seen in his gray prison cell. She stared back at him, unafraid. Slowly she held out her arms.

  With a low, hungry sound, he came down to her, clutching for her.

  She enfolded him, wrapping her legs around him, accepting eagerly his first hard, deep thrust, crying out again as the thrusts continued, a glorious volley of them. She met each one.

  Seated within her, he stilled. His head was tucked into the curve of her shoulder, his arms banded tight around her, stealing her breath, crushing her ribs. He thrust hard again with a guttural moan.

  She was moaning, too, at the feel of him so deep inside her. His arms loosened just enough that she could breathe again. She sighed in relief.

  He rose up on his elbows. She met his eyes.

  Below, he began to move once more. She moved with him—a liquid dance of heat and need. The pleasure was so exquisite, so intense, she could only just bear it.

  And then it became too much. She let her eyelids droop shut and tossed her head on the pillow.

  "No." The command seemed dragged up from far down inside him. He captured her face between his hands and held it still until she looked at him again.

  "What?" she cried. "Yes. Anything…"

  But he said nothing, only continued to look at her as he moved within her, until she thought she might go mad with the sheer erotic agony of it.

  She was…

  Sea grass on the ocean floor. The sun would never reach her. Blind and swaying in the velvet darkness, only the deepest and most powerful currents moved her, caressed her…

  She was a white bird flying into a summer storm. The warm, hard rain was in her eyes, slicking along her feathers. Lightning flashed too close, brightness flaring all around her. Thunder rolled away through the dark sky.

  She was a waterfall—a waterfall in a secret rain forest, tumbling hard and joyfully over mossy rocks, white spume glistening, falling.

  Falling…

  He thrust in so hard. She surged up, closing tight around him. All of her—arms, legs, everything, holding him, claiming him, as the pulsing of their mutual release began.

  * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  « ^ »

  Her flight left at quarter past noon. Finn, freshly showered and dressed in a casual shirt and dark slacks, sat in the shield-backed chair and watched her gather her things.

  "You don't need to rush. And you don't need to put up with the inconvenience of commercial flights. Your father would gladly give you the use of one of his jets."

  She finished folding the shirt she had in her hands and tucked it carefully into the open suitcase. She didn't want to cancel her flight, to ask her father to provide transportation for her. She didn't feel up to dealing with him and she was afraid to linger. Every moment she stayed only made her want to stay longer.

  "I've got my flights all arranged. I'd just as soon go ahead with what I've planned."

  What she planned was to leave immediately. She should have been ready hours ago, really. But Finn was too tempting. They'd stayed in bed too long. She had no time now—not to see her father, not to kiss her sisters goodbye. Phone calls later, from stateside, would have to do.

  Finn seemed to have no more to say. The big room seemed far too quiet as she finished her packing—quiet and somehow shadowed, though the bright light of a clear day shone in the windows.

  It didn't take long. She zipped both suitcases shut and engaged the combination locks. "There."

  He stood. "All right, then."

  "You don't have to—"

  He put up a hand. "Don't say it." He took the larger of the two bags. "Let's go."

  * * *

  At the airport, Finn had the driver take the car right out onto the tarmac. Airport security saw who they were and waved them ahead to where the small commuter plane was waiting with the boarding stairs down and the passengers filing on.

  Finn caught her arm when she reached for the door handle. "We have a moment. The driver will see to your luggage."

  The man behind the wheel got out and went around to the trunk.

  Finn pulled her to him. His mouth hovered above hers, his breath sweet and hot on her face. "Viking tradition calls for a morning gift—a man gives his wife the keys to all his houses and holdings. A Viking's wife will need the keys—Viking men, after all, are prone to row off in their dragon-prowed ships and not return for months at a time."

  She ached all over at the reality of leaving him
. "Just kiss me. Please…"

  He obliged her, his mouth hard at first and demanding, and then softening, turning gentle, his tongue delving in.

  He ended it too soon. "I suppose there's no point in giving you the keys to a castle you will never see."

  She looked at his eyes and his mouth, at the fine, strong line of his jaw. Not to touch him could not be borne. She laid a hand against his cheek. "Oh, Finn."

  "Stay." His breath came ragged, as if he'd run a hard race.

  "I can't. Come with me."

  He pulled back. "Why?"

  "Because I can't bear for you not to."

  He looked at her for a long time. And then he shook his head. "Here." He held out a white box, perhaps four inches square. The box was tied with a midnight-blue satin ribbon. "I never did find the moment to give you this." He put the box in her hand. "Open it later, when you're safely home. And now, kiss me once more."

  She lifted her mouth and for one last, shining, too-brief span of time felt herself melting into him.

  And then he reached behind her and pushed open her door. "Go. Now."

  She turned quickly and slid out onto the pavement, standing tall on shaky legs, a cool, sea-scented wind blowing against her face. She whirled for the plane and didn't look back in spite of the small knot of reporters shouting her name behind her. She couldn't look back.

  If she did, she knew she would throw over everything she'd ever dreamed of to stay in Gullandria with the beautiful playboy prince who had somehow managed to steal away her heart.

  * * *

  There was a delay at Heathrow. Mechanical difficulties. A scheduling snafu. The excuse changed every time a longer wait was announced. The afternoon wore on into evening.

  Finally Liv learned that the flight was canceled altogether. She shuffled from airline to airline, but she couldn't get a guaranteed flight until the next day.

  She went on standby. A couple of intrepid reporters had appeared by then. They hovered several yards away, waiting, no doubt, for her to do something newsworthy. She got rid of them by granting a quick impromptu interview.

  Yes, she and Finn had married. And she was utterly thrilled to be his bride. But her darling husband understood she had a summer job commitment; he himself had his duties at his estate in Gullandria. They were parting for a time, but they'd be together again soon.