Royal Weddings. Joan Elliott Pickart
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her mother, Elli managed to reach her principal at home. She spoke—somewhat vaguely—of a family emergency, said she had to leave within a couple of days. Her boss was far from pleased. Elli was in her first year with her own classes and didn’t have a lot of leave built up.
He said that yes, he would call the district for her and get someone to start tomorrow. Then he asked the logical question, “How long will you be gone?”
Unreality smacked her flat again. She hadn’t even considered how long her trip might last.
But it couldn’t be that long. It was a visit. A visit lasted… “Three weeks,” she said, getting up and going to have a look at her kitchen calendar. “I’ll be back and in my classroom by the twenty-seventh.” At least that way, she’d be there for the final two weeks of school. She reassured him that her lesson plans were all in good order. The substitute should have no troble figuring things out. But should a problem arise, Elli would be in town for a day or two. The sub could give her a call.
Somewhat grouchily, her boss wished her well. She realized, as she hung up the phone, that this trip could possibly cost her her job.
Elli was fortunate, and she knew it. She didn’t need the money. Her mother was, after all, a Freyasdahl. And anyone with any awareness of who was who in California knew that being a Freyasdahl meant you had money—and lots of it. Elli could live quite comfortably on the proceeds from her trust. But she loved teaching and she took pride in her work. It bothered her to think she was letting her school—and especially her two classes of kindergartners—down.
She glanced over, saw Hauk again, huge, bemuscled and implacable.
Well. She’d made a promise and she would keep it. Might as well put a bright face on it.
She flashed the Viking a big, fake smile. Those golden brows drew together and he looked at her sideways, his chiseled face set in suspicious lines.
“Tell you what,” she said, so cheerfully it grated on her own nerves. “You just make yourself right at home.” She dared to get close enough to grab her suitcase from where it waited, upright, beside him. “And if you don’t mind, I think I’d prefer to do my packing for myself.” She turned and marched away from him down the hall.
In her bedroom, she hoisted the suitcase onto the bed. She left it there, unopened, and went into her bathroom, where she took care to engage the privacy lock.
She planned to use the toilet, but somehow she found herself leaning over the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked huge and haunted. Her face was too pale, except for the cartoon-red splotches of hectic color high on her cheeks.
“I want to go and meet my father,” she told her slightly stupefied reflection. “I want to do this.” At the same time, she was still having serious trouble believing any of it was really happening. Not long ago, she’d been carrying her groceries up the stairs, humming a tune that had been playing on the radio in the car, thinking about what she’d fix for dinner.
Now everything was changed. She was going to Gullandria.
She used the toilet, washed her hands, brushed her hair and got another long, cool drink of water from the tap. She put on fresh lip gloss.
And then she went out to face the Viking—which happened sooner than she expected, as she found him standing beside her bed.
She shrieked in outrage. “Get out!”
“Princess, it is not my intention to frighten you.”
It was too much—him here, in her bedroom. She made shooing motions with both hands and shouted, “Out, out, out!”
“Silence!” he boomed back, then reminded her, way too softly, “Remember your promise. No loud noises.”
She lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “That was before, when you were kidnapping me. Now you are merely my… escort. And I want you out of my room.”
Instead of leaving, he came toward her. Those huge, heavily muscled legs were so long, it only took about a step and a half.
She wasn’t afraid of him—she wasn’t. But she couldn’t stop herself from shrinking out of his path when faced with all that size and power coming right at her. He was so tall that the hair at the crown of his head brushed the top of the doorframe as he entered her bathroom.
She moved into the doorway behind him, folding her arms across her middle to keep her fists from punching something. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
He didn’t even bother to answer her, just started checking things out, opening the slatted pebbled-glass window and peering down at the carports, looking in her cabinets at her towels and extra bars of soap, sweeping back the shower curtain to view the tub.
“What, you think I’ve got someone hidden in the tub? You think I’m planning to bust out—just take all the slats out of that window and jump onto the hood of somebody’s Jetta? Oh, puh-lease.”
Apparently, he had finished his invasion of her privacy, because he stood still, facing her. “My orders are to guard you closely, Princess—to stay at your side at all times, to see that you don’t change your mind about your agreement with His Majesty. I’m doing that and only that. You came in here very quickly. I felt it wise to find out if there was some reason for your haste.”
“I came in here quickly because I had to go to the bathroom. Is that a problem for you, if I go to the bathroom?”
“No, Princess.” He stood with that huge chest thrust out, shoulders back, his arms tight to his sides, a soldier at attention.
“And let’s back up here for a minute. Is that really what my father told you, to…guard me closely, to stay at my side all the time?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“I think I’m going to have to talk to my father again.”
The Viking didn’t move.
“Did you hear me? I said, contact my father again. I wish to speak with him.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. Just go get that beeper thingy and—”
“Princess.”
“What?”
“Your father told me he didn’t wish to be disturbed again. He said he was certain you’d think of an endless list of new questions as soon as you hung up the phone. He told me to tell you he would answer them all—”
She knew the rest. “When I see him in Gullandria.”
“That is correct, Prin—”
“Hauk.”
“Yes, your—”
“If you call me princess—or Your Highness—one more time, I think I’m going to forget all about my promise and my honor and start screaming. Then you’ll have to tie me up again and that will make me very, very angry. And you don’t really want me angry, now, do you?”
“No, P—” He caught himself just in time. “No.”
“Well, all right then. Don’t call me Your Highness and don’t call me princess.”
“As you wish.”
“And now, will you please get out of my bedroom?”
“If you’ll come with me.”
She threw up both hands. “All right, all right. Let’s go.”
Elli went straight to the kitchen. It was almost eight by then and her stomach was making insistent growling sounds.
Of course, Hauk followed right behind her. That was okay, she supposed. She’d resigned herself to feeding him, too.
“Sit down,” she told