Royal Weddings. Joan Elliott Pickart
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in the kitchen. The man certainly took his duties seriously. How did he do it? So much watchfulness had to wear a person out.
She pulled open the refrigerator and stared at the chicken she’d brought home to roast. It would be enough for both of them, but it would also take almost two hours in the oven.
No. She was hungry now.
She considered a quick trip to Mickey D’s or Taco Bell.
But then again, it wasn’t as if she’d be allowed to just jump in her car and go. The king’s warrior would have to be consulted. They’d have to wrangle over whether she could go at all. Then, if he allowed it, he’d insist on going with her. He’d decide who would drive—she was betting on herself. That way he’d have his hands free to deal with her if she broke her word and tried to leap to freedom from the moving vehicle. Then there’d be the question of whether she could actually be trusted to speak to the order taker at the drive-up window….
Uh-uh. Fast food was a no-go.
Elli tried the freezer. Ah. A pair of DiGiornos. Perfect. She glanced at the huge man in her kitchen chair again and decided she’d better cook both the three-meat and the deluxe.
When she set a plate before him, he frowned. “It is not necessary that you cook for me.”
And what was he planning to eat if she didn’t?
Better not even get into it. “It’s nothing fancy—pizza and a salad. Just eat it, okay?”
He dipped his shaggy golden head. “Thank you, Pr—” He stifled the P-word, barely. “Uh. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She had a nice bottle of chardonnay chilling. She’d grabbed it at the supermarket, thinking she’d have a glass with her roast chicken. She decided to open it now. She needed something to help get her through the night.
Elli set out two glasses, but when she tried to pour one for Hauk, he put his great big hand over the mouth of it. Well, fine, she thought. Be that way. More for me. She filled her own glass to the brim and sat opposite him. They ate in silence. Elli indulged in a second glass of wine.
She was feeling pleasantly hazy when she got up to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Hauk rose with her. He helped her clear off, and actually took the sponge and began wiping the counters as she rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher. She turned and looked at him, sponging her table, carefully guiding the pizza crumbs into his massive paw of a hand—and she couldn’t help it. A goofy giggle escaped her.
He straightened—still holding the crumbs cupped in his hand—and turned to her. “You find me humorous?”
“I…uh…” She waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”
He came toward her. Maybe it was the wine, but for the first time, she didn’t feel particularly menaced by the sight of all that muscle moving her way. She stepped back a fraction, so he could brush the crumbs into the sink. Then she took the spray attachment and rinsed them down the drain. He handed her the sponge. She rinsed it, wrung the water from it and set it in the wire basket under the sink.
“Well,” she said. “That’s that.”
He nodded. And then he just stood there—awaiting orders, she supposed.
It was 8:50. A little early for bed under ordinary circumstances. But ordinary had nothing at all to do with tonight. She wanted some time to herself, for Pete’s sake, a few hours without the ever-watchful eyes of the king’s warrior tracking her every move. And the only way to get that was to say good-night and shut her bedroom door.
“Listen.” She tried a smile on him.
He gave her another nod.
She told him, “I’m just going to make up the futon in the spare room for you. You’ll find fresh towels in the cabinet to the right of the sink in the hall bathroom. And if you want to watch a little television, the living room is all yours—oh, and if you get hungry, hey, if I’ve got it, you can eat it.”
He just stood there, looking at her. She knew with absolute certainty he had something to tell her that she wasn’t going to like.
“What?” she demanded.
“Your intention is that I sleep in your extra room and you sleep in your own bedroom.”
“Something wrong with that?”
“It appears you haven’t clearly understood the agreement you made with His Majesty.”
She backed up a step, slapped a hand down on the counter tiles and glared at him sideways. “What are you talking about? I agreed to go visit him. I agreed that you could hang around in my apartment until it’s time to go, keeping an eye on me so I won’t change my mind. I agreed that you would be my escort to Gullandria.”
“Yes, all that is correct.”
“Good. So we know what I agreed to. And I’m going to bed.” She moved forward. He didn’t move aside. “Hauk. If you don’t tell me what is going on here…” She let the threat trail off, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything sufficiently terrible to threaten him with.
“All right,” he growled. He looked especially bleak right then. “His Majesty instructed me to watch over you at all times. That means wherever you sleep, I sleep as well.”
Chapter Four
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard,” the princess announced. “I never agreed to sleep with you. My father never said a word about my sleeping with you.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Why would my father want me to sleep with you?”
Hauk realized she’d drawn an erroneous conclusion. “Of course you would not sleep with me. But whatever room you sleep in—I will be there, also.”
She blinked, and then she said, very slowly, “You think you’re going to sleep in my room.”
“It is of no consequence to me what room I sleep in. I’m merely informing you that it will be the same room as the room in which you sleep.”
“But I don’t… Did he say that to you, did he actually say you had to sleep in the same room with me?”
“He said not to let you out of my sight.”
“Ah.” She slapped the counter again. “But you did, remember? You let me out of your sight when I went to the bathroom and nothing happened. I’m still here.”
By the runes, he hated arguing with this woman. She was too clever by half. “You have a right to your privacy, when it comes to…private matters. But not for hours. There are windows in every room. Given time, you could easily find a way to escape without my knowing it.”
“But I won’t escape. I gave you my word that I wouldn’t.”
“And I am ordered by my king to make certain that you keep your word.”
Those proud slim shoulders slumped. She looked away. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?”
He wanted to say, No, Your Highness. But she had forbidden him the use of her title.
He also wanted to say he regretted this—all of it. But she had ordered him to stop apologizing.
And he might as well admit she was right—not about his addressing her properly. He didn’t like the familiarity she was forcing on him by making him drop the appropriate form of address. But as to his regrets, well, they had no more value than a promise made by Loki, the god of dirty tricks.
It was what a man did that mattered, not what came out of his mouth. And what Hauk would do was continue to follow the orders of his king.
She asked, sounding forlorn, “Will you at least leave me alone while I take a bath?”
Hauk