Prince and Future... Dad?

by Christine Rimmer

  Ingrid gave a low laugh. “Not just any man. He is, after all, your husband.”

  “I miss him,” Liv said in a small voice. “I want to be with him. I want to…work things out with him.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “I think he’s angry with me. Oh, Mom. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

  “I’m sure he’s hurt.”

  “Why? What did I do? It’s not as if he didn’t know how I am. It’s not as if I never told him that I had plans for my life and I—”

  “Just go to him. Just work it through.”

  “His sister hates me. She’s sure it’s all my fault that he’s so broody and mean lately, and you know, I think she’s probably right. I think…he really loves me, Mom. And I think I love him.”

  “You’ll work it out.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “Because there’s nothing else to say. Because I know that you will. I knew it the moment I met him. The two of you are perfect for each other. You need a little humor and passion in your life. And I think that Finn needs a little direction.”

  “You’re sure? You don’t think I’m crazy to be doing this?”

  “I absolutely do not.”

  “But what about—”

  “There’ll be other internships.”

  “He wants to live there, in Gullandria. How will I—”

  “One step at a time,” her mother said.

  “One step at a time,” she told herself the next morning. “I’m going to visit him at his castle. We’ll see how it goes….”

  She called his cell phone as soon as she reached Gullandria, but he didn’t answer. She left a brief message, then tried the number at Balmarran. The housekeeper picked up.

  Prince Finn was not taking calls.

  “But is he there?”

  The housekeeper confirmed that, yes, the prince was at Balmarran.

  “Then will you please tell him that his wife would like to speak with him?”

  The housekeeper asked her if she would please hold.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” Liv waited.

  The next voice on the line was one she didn’t especially want to hear. “What do you want?” Eveline demanded.

  Liv suppressed a sigh. “To speak to my husband.”

  “He doesn’t wish to be disturbed.” The line went dead.

  Liv muttered a few rude words beneath her breath. Really, she should have strangled the girl when she had the chance.

  She decided she’d give up on phoning him first. She would go to him, somehow get past the housekeeper and his overbearing brat of a sister, and speak to him face to face.

  But first, she had to find out where Balmarran was. Most likely, her father would know.

  Osrik started in on her the minute she entered the private chamber.

  “Odin’s bones, what is it now? I thought you were deserting your husband and returning to America as fast as public air transport could carry you.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  Her father sent her a wary look. “Should we be heartened? Is it possible you’ve come to your senses and realized your place is at your husband’s side?”

  “Sure, be heartened. Why not? And I think it’s probably better for both of us if I don’t even try to answer that second question. I understand Finn has returned to Balmarran.”

  “Yes, and with a dark look in his eye and a scowl on his too-handsome face. I never thought I’d see the day that Finn Danelaw couldn’t spare a smile and a clever remark. But that day has come, and I’m shamed to say my own daughter has brought it upon us.”

  Liv resisted the urge to defend herself. She knew her father well enough by then to understand that arguing with him would accomplish zip, beyond possibly incurring the royal wrath.

  She didn’t need that. Between Finn and that sister of his, she had enough people mad at her already.

  “Father, I’m hoping to do what I can to…make Finn smile again.”

  “Harumph,” said her father.

  “But I can’t do that unless I can see him. I came to ask you for directions to Balmarran.”

  Osrik called for a car to take her there.

  Balmarran estate lay a short distance beyond the small village of Skolvar, at the foot of a tiny mountain range called the Midlings. The estate was 130 kilometers from Lysgard—in American terms, roughly 80 miles. Liv sat behind the driver and stared out at the rolling countryside dotted here and there with rippling fields of grain and pastures full of fat-tailed sheep and tried to imagine what in the world she was going to say to Finn when she got there.

  Silently she rehearsed a number of elaborate speeches. But in the end, she decided to wing it. She’d be honest and forthright and tell him she’d been thinking long and hard. And she’d decided she wanted to try to make a real marriage with him. She’d let the rest take care of itself.

  The driver was no chatterbox. He stared at the road ahead of him and drove like Finn, faster than he should have. They roared around turns and more than once she had to ask him to please slow down.

  It seemed no time at all before they reached Skolvar, where the houses were small and narrow, with steep-pitched dark roofs, each house painted a stunningly cheerful primary color—red, yellow or blue, with white window frames and shutters. The people stopped on the cobbled streets to smile and wave, as though they knew the black Mercedes must belong to their king, and they recognized Princess Liv in the back seat.

  A mile or two beyond the village, the driver swung too fast around a curve and a castle loomed proud in the distance. She asked the driver and he confirmed that it was, in fact, Balmarran. Silhouetted against a cloudy sky, it was a long, imposing series of linked structures with a domed tower in the middle and more towers at either end.

  “Skolvar granite, Highness,” the driver gave out rather grudgingly when she asked him what kind of stone it was made of. “There’s a quarry northwest of the village. Skolvar granite is famous for its pale, almost white color.”

  It truly was lovely, rising from the wooded grounds below it. It seemed more Georgian than medieval in style, more of a fine manor house, less a fortress. Arched windows ran the length of the two central buildings. They would let in lots of much-needed light during the long Gullandrian winters. It looked…gracious and welcoming. On a little grander scale than Liv preferred, but from here, well, it seemed a place she might be able to live.

  And oh, she might as well face it. With Finn at her side, she could probably learn to live just about anywhere.

  Trees obscured the view of the house as they got closer. And then they turned off the main road. A hundred yards later they arrived at an iron gate inset with medallions: dragons, their long tails twining in and out of some sort of runic symbol she didn’t recognize. The pillars to either side were of that distinctive Skolvar granite.

  The driver honked, but no gatekeeper appeared. With a put-upon sigh that Liv could hear even from the back seat, the driver got out and approached the gate. He fiddled with the latch, then grabbed an iron post on either side and gave it a hard shake. Nothing. He returned to the car.

  “Sorry, Highness. The gate’s locked up tight.”

  Liv got out her phone and dialed the castle. After an endless chain of unanswered rings, a machine finally picked up and invited her to leave a message.

  Feeling ridiculous, she did. “This is Liv—Liv Thor…er, Danelaw. I’m at the front gate. Could someone please come down and let me in?” After that, she tried Finn’s cell number. He didn’t answer, so she left a message similar to the first one.

  “Now what?” said the driver, looking put out, and remembering after a beat or two to add, with grudging respect, “Your Highness?”

  “Now we wait.”

  The driver was not up for waiting. Not five minutes had passed before he announced that he didn’t believe the iron fence could possibly run the entire perimeter of the estate. If she didn’t mind, he’d find a way to get past it. He’d run on up t
o the castle on foot. In no time at all, he’d be back down with someone to open the gate.

  Balmarran estate looked pretty big to her, and she doubted the man could have even passing familiarity with the layout. She sent him a disbelieving glance. “No time at all. Right.”

  “Highness, I don’t mind confessing I’ve got a crack sense of direction and I’m real fast on my feet.” He looked at her as if he’d go mad if he had to sit there and do nothing.

  She accepted the fact that she might go mad if she had to watch him while he sat there and did nothing. She waved a hand at him. “Oh, all right. Leave the keys.”

  “Yes, Highness. Thank you, Highness.” And he was off. He disappeared into the trees to the left of the road just as lightning flashed in the sky. Thunder boomed and fat raindrops began plopping on the windshield. Within seconds, it became a downpour. Liv figured the impatient fool would get smart and come back.

  But he didn’t. He was gone. And right then, as she stared at the gate, another man appeared just on the other side of it.

  He wore a pair of soaked black pants, black boots and a dripping black-hooded slicker. He seemed to have materialized out of the storm itself. Liv was sure she hadn’t seen him coming toward her down the driveway—and he had the hood pulled over his head, so she couldn’t really see his face. He was perhaps six feet tall, and very thin.

  The wonderful thing was, he had a key!

  Liv scrambled over the seat as he unlocked the gate and walked each side wide open. He signaled her through and she started up the car.

  When she got even with him, she rolled down the passenger window and leaned across to speak with him, though the rain gusted in over the seat, wetting the expensive leather and Liv as well. “Thank you so much.”

  He nodded. She could make out his face now, beyond the poor shelter of the hood.

  Handsome in a gaunt, drawn way. And hardly more than a boy. Late teens, at the oldest. He shouldn’t be out in this.

  “You have shelter, close by?”

  He only looked back at her—tongue-tied, perhaps deaf? Who could say?

  She couldn’t just drive off and leave him standing there. She pushed open the door and gestured at the seat. “Come on. Get in.”

  He backed off a step and turned his head sideways, like a wild thing scenting trouble.

  She made her voice even firmer and waved him in. “I’m getting soaked here. Get in the car.”

  He hesitated a moment more and then he slid in beside her and pulled the door shut. Lovely. Water ran off him, pooling on the floor mat beneath his worn black boots, soaking the seat. He smelled like wet rubber from the slicker, and also like damp earth, kind of musky—not dirty, but not overly clean, either.

  “Here.” She reached for the dashboard controls.

  “No need,” he mumbled. “I’m not cold, milady.”

  She turned on the heater anyway. Warm air flowed in around her feet. The windshield was fogging up, so she switched on the defroster. Instantly the glass began to clear and she could see her way. She sent her soggy passenger a smile. “I’m assuming if I just take this driveway, we’ll eventually end up at the castle. Is that right?” He made a grunting sound. She decided to take it for a yes. “And your name is…?”

  “Cauley,” he mumbled in the direction of his dripping shoes.

  Cauley.

  Of course. The wild boy, the groundskeeper’s adopted son, the one whose heart Eveline had broken.

  She felt a surge of pity for him. “I’m Prince Danelaw’s wife.”

  He stiffened, shoved back his hood and stared straight at her then, pale gray eyes haunted looking, thin mouth unsmiling, wild, unkempt hair plastered to his thin cheeks. “Prince Finn’s new bride…” He seemed far from pleased to make her acquaintance.

  “Er, that’s right. But tell you what. Just call me Liv.” She held out her hand to him.

  He didn’t take it. “Eveline hates you.”

  Oh, terrific. “Well, I’m sorry to hear th—”

  Out of nowhere, his bony fist came at her, connecting squarely with her jaw. Liv’s head flew back and hit the passenger window behind her.

  She recovered, or at least, for a split second, she thought that she had. She sat up very straight and stared at the wild-eyed, wet boy in the other seat. “What in the…” She couldn’t think how to continue.

  The world was shifting, doubling up on itself, blurry and spinning. And then everything just faded away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Finn sat in his study, watching the rain as it spattered the long windows. In spite of his dark mood, he couldn’t help but admire the bright, ragged beauty of the lightning each time it forked down from the black rain clouds—Thor at his work, doing what a thunder god does best. The ensuing claps of thunder pleased him, too.

  And yes. He knew he couldn’t sit here staring out a window forever.

  Action would have to be taken. And he knew what it would have to be.

  He was no good without her.

  She hadn’t said she loved him, but she had wanted him to come with her. It would have to be enough for him. Tomorrow or the next day he would swallow his wounded pride and get on a plane bound for California.

  He could live there.

  He could live anywhere as long as she was there with him.

  There was a discreet tap on the door. Without turning, he called, “Go away!” and continued watching the rain.

  A moment later, the knock came again. Evidently, it was something he would have to deal with.

  Wearily he stood. “Enter.”

  Mrs. Balewood, the housekeeper, stuck her head in. “So sorry to break in on you, sir.”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a man at the side door, says he’s Princess Liv’s driver, that she’s waiting, down at the gate. He says she called here to the house but got no answer. The man says she tried your cell phone, too. As to the house phone, I was down in the laundry. I didn’t get to it and I—”

  Finn waved an impatient hand. “Have you checked for a message?”

  “I did. And it’s there, sir. From your wife. She’s down at the gate, just as the man at the door said.”

  He couldn’t believe it. She was here. She had come to him. And this time he could think of only one reason for it: because here, with him, was where she wanted to be.

  He felt the smile burst across his face. “Shouldn’t Dag have let her in by now?” The groundskeeper’s assistant wore a beeper on his belt. It went off whenever a vehicle pulled up to the gate.

  “Yes, sir. Dag should have gotten to it.”

  Balder appeared in the doorway behind Mrs. Balewood. “What’s afoot?”

  “Liv’s at the gate.” He heard the buoyancy in his voice. It sounded good to his own ears.

  “Wonderful.” His grandfather beamed.

  Mrs. Balewood was biting her lip. “Perhaps I should send a man down in a car to—”

  As if he could wait for a servant to fetch her. “Get a car in front immediately. I’ll do it myself.”

  The housekeeper was wringing her hands by then. “Sir. I feel there’s something you must know….”

  He scowled at her, impatient to be off. “Can’t it wait?”

  “Sir, your wife called yesterday. I told her you weren’t to be disturbed. She insisted I fetch you to the phone. I was coming to speak with you, to see if you—”

  He could hardly credit this. “You never said a word to me.”

  “Well, and I am so sorry, sir. You see, it was the young miss. She overheard me talking to the princess. She took the call and told your wife you didn’t wish to speak with her. Then she told me to leave you in peace.”

  “Eveline,” he muttered. “Why doesn’t this surprise me?”

  “The Norns curse the girl,” his grandfather declared. “I’ll have her hide.”

  “Good. And when you’re done with her, I’ll take a few strips off it myself.” He turned to Mrs. Balewood. “That car. Now.”

>   Liv groaned. The back of her head was pounding, her jaw ached and her neck had a terrible kink in it. She was wet, soaked through, and shivering. Also, there was something really wrong with her arms and her legs.

  Carefully she opened her eyes. Nothing. The world remained pitch-black. She smelled earth, moist earth.

  A cave?

  How could she be in a cave? And the problem with her arms and legs…

  They were tied, her hands behind her. She was gagged, as well—duct tape, it felt like. It went all the way around her head, so her hair pulled when she moved.

  It came to her: the boy, the troubled boy. The one called Cauley, who loved Eveline.

  She moved her aching jaw back and forth.

  The boy had one hell of a mean right hook. Liv closed her eyes again—open or shut, she couldn’t see a thing. She wished her poor head would stop pounding. Then maybe she could think clearly.

  But then, maybe not.

  Maybe thinking wouldn’t be such a terrific idea. What was there to think about, really, except why Cauley had brought her here and what, exactly, he planned to do with her now that he had…and where was here, and how would she ever get out of here, out of the dark?

  Finn.

  She thought his name, and the sound of it in her mind was like a light, a bright, warm light going on in the endless dark, pushing back the shadows, making everything clear.

  And her baby.

  One single tear dribbled from the corner of her left eye and back into the hair at her temple, a little of it wetting the damp, mildew-smelling pillow beneath her head.

  Her baby…

  Lying here in this strange, cold cave of a place, trussed up tight, without a light, without a clue what might be about to happen to her, the reality of her baby came stunningly clear. A bone-deep shiver ran through her. She must get out of here, get to Finn. And above all, nothing—nothing—must happen to endanger her baby.

  She tugged at the ropes. They were tight. Secure. But she would work at them. Maybe, with time, she could get them to loosen.

  Was she alone in this place?

  How could she know if Cauley might be sitting nearby, in the dark, just waiting for her to stir?