Royal Weddings. Joan Elliott Pickart
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my children go—and still, remember, speaking the-oretically—everything can be different for them.”
“You mean, if you marry, then the sons your wife gives you would be eligible when the kingmaking comes around again.”
“That’s right—given that my wife is jarl herself.” It suddenly occurred to her that he might be married right now. That shocked her, for some reason. Nothing personal, she hurried to reassure herself silently. It wasn’t about being… interested in him, as a man.
No. Of course not.
It was only that he didn’t seem married. Just as she couldn’t picture him as a vulnerable little boy with parents who took care of him, she had trouble seeing him with a wife, with children of his own.
She couldn’t resist asking. “Are you? Married?”
“No. And I have no children, either. I will never have children, unless I first have a wife. That is the lesson a fitz always learns and thus, in Gullandria, bastard children are rare.”
“So then,” she said gently, “you’ll never be king. But your children might.”
“They might. But again, it’s not likely. Families hold tight to ground they have gained. The sons of kings tend to become kings. They are groomed from birth with the throne in mind. Your brother, Prince Valbrand…” Hauk paused, fisted a hand at his heart and briefly bowed his head in what was clearly a gesture of respect for someone greatly valued and tragically lost. “Your brother was born to rule. He was wise beyond his years, a good and fair man. Gullandria would have prospered under him as she has thrived under His Majesty, your father.” Something had happened in Hauk’s cool eyes. For the first time, Elli saw that he did have a heart and that he had admired—even loved—her brother.
Her own heart contracted. “He was…good? My brother?”
“Yes. A fine man. The Gullandrian people felt pride that someday he would rule. Jarl and freeman alike knew a steady confidence in the future he would make for us all.”
“And my other brother, Kylan?”
Hauk shrugged. “He was a child when we lost him. Barely in his fifth year.”
“But…did you ever see him? Do you remember anything about him?”
After a thoughtful pause, he said, “Young Prince Kylan was strong and well made. He had the dark hair and eyes of the Celts—as did Prince Valbrand, as does His Majesty, your father.”
Strong and well made, dark hair and eyes…
It was all so sad. Both of them, her fine, strong, dark-eyed brothers, lost now, one to a fire, one to the sea the Gullandrians loved. Lost to Elli and her shattered family. Lost to the country they might have ruled and ruled well.
Hauk approached her again. She looked up at him. “So sad…”
“Yes. A great double tragedy. For your family. For our land.”
His words had so exactly echoed her thoughts. She gestured at the chair across from her. “Sit down. Please.” He took the chair. “Tell me more. About Gullandria.”
Hauk talked for a while, quietly. He told her that the North Atlantic drift made Gullandria’s seacoasts warm for that latitude. He spoke of the famous Gullandrian horses, with their flowing white manes and long, thick white coats to protect them against the northern winters.
Elli asked, “And with my brothers gone, who do you think will be the next king?”
Hauk spoke then of a man who had been her father’s friend since childhood, the man second in power only to King Osrik himself: the Grand Counselor, Medwyn Greyfell. Medwyn was several years older than Osrik, and unlikely to live to succeed him. But Greyfell had a son, Eric. The younger Greyfell was the most likely choice.
“Still,” he added, shaking that golden head, “none can say with certainty how the jarl will vote when the kingmaking again comes around.”
They left for her mother’s house at a little after six in Elli’s BMW. Hauk filled the seat beside her. His knees were cramped against the dashboard and his head touched the ceiling. They’d reached a sort of understanding in the past few hours. At least they’d found something to talk about: the land where he would soon be taking her, the land that he loved.
But looking at him, sitting there in the passenger seat, she was struck all over again with that feeling of extreme unreality: Elli and her Viking bodyguard, on their way to dinner at her mother’s house…
The house where Elli had grown up was three stories, Tudor in style, on a wide, curving street lined with gorgeous mature oaks and maples. As a child, Elli and her sisters had sometimes lain on the emerald slope of the front lawn and stared up at the thick canopy of leaves overhead, smiling at the blue sky beyond, watching the clouds up there, drifting by.
The driveway was on the west side. Elli drove under an arching porte cochere to a back parking area. She stopped at the farthest door of the four-car garage.
“We’ll go in the back way. I have a key, if we need it.”
Hauk frowned. He looked almost comical, crammed into her sporty little car, hunching those massive shoulders so that he could fit. “It would be wiser, I think, to go to the front door, to knock.”
“Oh, please. I was raised here. I don’t have to knock.”
“But I do.”
She sighed. “Listen. I don’t intend to explain everything. If my mother hears how you broke into my apartment, how you tied me up and planned to kidnap me, how Father has set you on me as a round-the-clock guard, she’ll hit the roof. So we’ll let her think you’re my guest, okay? I can always bring a guest home. My mother would never object to that.”
“I am a stranger here. A wise stranger enters by the front door.”
Elli threw up both hands. “Will you save the platitudes? You hardly entered my house by the front door—and if you were really so damn wise, you would have let me come here on my own, because we both know that explaining you is going to be almost as difficult as convincing my poor mother to accept where I intend to go.”
“I have told you, my orders—”
“I know what your orders are. And I’m telling you, I’m no stranger and you’re with me, so there’s no reason we can’t just—”
He showed her the lightning bolt in the heart of his hand. “Someone comes.”
The door to the back service porch opened and her mother’s housekeeper emerged.
“That’s Hilda Trawlson,” Elli told Hauk. “Hildy’s been with us as long as I can remember. She came back with us from Gullandria.” Elli rolled down the window on Hauk’s side. “Hi, Hildy!”
Hilda came down the steps and up to the car. “Elli.” Her dark gaze flicked once over the Viking in the passenger seat. Then she looked again at Elli. “You’ve brought a guest.” Her voice was flat.
“Hildy, don’t be a sourpuss. This is Hauk.”
The housekeeper and the warrior exchanged cautious nods.
Elli could see that Hilda already suspected Hauk had not come from Cleveland. So she announced, “Hauk is here from Gullandria.”
Hilda took a step back.
Elli leaned on her door and got out of the car. “We have some things to talk about with Mom.” She kept a smile on her face and her tone light. The whole idea here was to make her mother—and Hilda—believe that the coming trip was completely her choice.
And it was her choice. They didn’t need to know that choosing not to go wasn’t an option.
Hauk took his cue from her and pushed open his own door. Swinging those powerful legs out, he planted