Royal Weddings. Joan Elliott Pickart
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her palm.
The phone rang, startling her. She’d been avoiding looking at him, but when she heard the shrill, insistent sound, her gaze tracked immediately to his.
“Leave it.”
“But—” Before she could devise some really good reason why he had to let her answer it, it stopped—on the second ring. She wanted to shout at it, at whoever had called and given up too soon, Damn you, can’t you see I need a little help here? What’s holding on for a few more rings going to cost you?
Outside, it was still light. But it wouldn’t be that long until night fell. When that happened, he’d be dragging her out of here by the hair—figuratively speaking.
Was she ready for that? Not. There had to be a better way.
She made herself look at him again—and then she forced her voice to a friendly tone. “Hauk… May I call you Hauk?”
He cleared his throat. “Call me what you will. I am—”
She waved a hand. “At my service. Got that. But Hauk?”
“Your Highness?”
Oh, this was all so way, way weird. “Look. Could you just call me Elli?”
The silver-blue gaze slid away. “That would not be appropriate.”
Elli stared at his profile for a count of ten. Then she sighed. “Please. I think we have to talk.” He turned those eyes on her again—but he didn’t speak. When the silence had stretched out too long, she suggested, “What if I were to go with you willingly?”
His gaze was unblinking, his face a carved mask. “Then you would make the inevitable easier on everyone.”
She added hopefully, “There would be conditions.”
And that brought on another of those never-ending silences. Surprise, surprise, she thought. He’s not interested in my conditions.
Gamely, she prompted, “Let me explain.”
For that, she got one gold eyebrow lifted. “I need no explanations. I have my orders and I will carry them out.”
“But—”
“Your Highness, all your clever words will get you nowhere.”
“Clever?” She had that dangerous feeling again, the one that told her she was about to throw back her head and scream the house down. “You think I’m clever?”
“Don’t,” he said softly, and then again, in a whisper, “Don’t.”
She pressed her lips together hard and folded her hands in her lap, bending her head, as if in prayer.
And in a way, she was praying—praying that she’d figure out how to get through to the Viking in the easy chair before he tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the door.
Elli sat up straight. “Why does my father suddenly just have to see me?”
He frowned. “As I said earlier, he will explain that himself.”
“But what did he tell you—or did he even bother to give you the order himself?”
That eyebrow inched upward again. “Are you trying to goad me, Princess?”
She opened her mouth to deny that—and then shut it before she spoke. She had a sense that to lie to this man was to lose all hope of getting anywhere with him. She said, quietly, “Yes. I was goading you.” She swallowed and then made herself add, “I apologize.”
He gave her an infinitesimal shrug.
She looked up at him from under her lashes, head lowered modestly, “Please. I really do want to know. Did you speak with my father yourself? Did he tell you in person to come here and get me?”
An excruciating parade of seconds went by. Finally, the Viking said, “Yes.”
“And what did he say, when he gave you your orders?”
“I have told you what he said. That he wanted to see you, that he would explain all once you were at his side.”
“But why does he want me there?”
“He didn’t tell me. And there is no reason he should have told me. A king is not obligated to share his motives with those who serve him.”
“But he must have said something.”
Hauk had that look again, that carved-in-stone look. The one that told her she’d gotten all the information she was going to get from him.
Well, too bad. She wanted some answers. And maybe, if she handled this right, she could make him give them to her. “You’ve said more than once that you are at my service.”
“And so I am, Princess Elli.”
“Wonderful—and I want you to know, I do understand that, while you serve me, you serve my father first.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“So that would mean, if something I ask of you doesn’t affect your ability to do what my father wants, you would do my will. You would, as you said, serve me.” She waited. She knew, eventually, he would have to say it.
And eventually, he did. “Yes, Princess Elli.”
A slow warmth was spreading through her. She knew she had him now. “And when my father gave you the order to bring me to Gullandria, did he also instruct you not to tell me what he had told you?”
“No, Princess. He didn’t.”
“Then, since what I ask does not conflict with my father’s wishes, I want you to serve me now and tell me what my father said to you when he ordered you to come for me.”
Oh, she did have him. And yes, he did know it.
He sat ramrod straight in the chair. “His Majesty’s instructions were brief. I was to be…gentle with you. First, I was to ask you to come with me. I was to tell you what I have told you, that your father wished to see you, to speak with you, that he would explain everything once he had you with him.”
She knew the rest. “And if I said no, he told you to kidnap me and bring me to him, anyway.”
Hauk looked offended. “Never once did he use the word kidnap.”
“But that is what he expected—I mean, it’s what you’re doing. Right?” For that she got a one-shoulder shrug. She sat forward. “But why didn’t he at least call me? Why couldn’t he ask me himself?”
“Highness, you ask of one who has no answers. As I told you before, a king doesn’t concern himself with ‘whys’ when giving orders to his warrior. Your father has said that all will be revealed to you in time and His Majesty is a man of his word.”
“But I don’t—”
“Your Highness.” Those frosty blue eyes had a warning gleam in them now.
“Hmm?” She gave him bright, sweet smile.
He looked as if a series of crude Norse oaths was scrolling through his mind. He said softly, “Patience is a quality to be prized in a woman. It would serve you well to exercise a little of it.”
In a pig’s eye. “Think about this, Hauk. Just think about it. My father told you he would prefer that I went willingly. And I am seriously considering doing just that.”
“You’re considering.”
“Yes. I am. I truly am.”
He might be the strong, silent type, but he wasn’t any fool. He knew where this was headed. He said bleakly, “You’re considering, but there is a condition.”
“That’s right. And it’s a