Royal Weddings

He dropped the gag on the couch arm and went to the kitchen, returning quickly with a full glass. He set the glass on the coffee table and helped her to sit. Her skirt was halfway up her thighs. He smoothed it down so it covered her tied-together knees. She had a powerful urge to snap at him to get his big, rude hands off her, but she pressed her lips together over the self-defeating words. She did want her skirt pulled down and since her own hands were tied, his would have to do.

Once she was upright, with her skirt where it was supposed to be, he held the glass to her lips. Oh, it was heaven, that lovely, wet water sliding down her dry throat. She drank the whole thing.

“More?” he asked. She shook her head. He was very close, his bulging hard shoulder brushing against her. She realized she could smell him. His skin gave off a scent both spicy and fresh. Like cloves and green, newly cut cedar boughs. Every Christmas, her mother decked the mantels and stair rails with cedar boughs. Elli had always loved the smell of them….

And what was the matter with her? Had she lost her mind?

He had drugged her and tied her up and as soon as dark came, he was dragging her out of here, hauling her off to God knew where. The last thing she should be thinking about was how good he smelled.

She scooted as far away from him as she could, given her hobbled state, and hugged the couch arm.

Without another word, he set the empty glass on the coffee table, stood and crossed the room to sit again in the easy chair—as if he found it uncomfortable or distasteful to be anywhere near her. Fine. She felt the same way. On both counts.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. The Viking was still. Elli fidgeted a little, pulling at the ropes that bound her, unable to resist a need to test them. Unlike the rope he had cut, the ones that were left pulled no tighter when she tugged on them. They didn’t loosen, either.

It occurred to her that the only weapon she had at her disposal right then was her voice. Shouting for help was out. She’d sworn she wouldn’t do that, and for some insane reason she felt bound to stick by her word. However, she’d never promised she wouldn’t speak. And words, if used right, could serve as weapons.

She straightened her shoulders and let out a long breath. “This is kidnapping, do you realize that? In America, what you’re doing is a capital crime.”

He looked away, toward the kitchen, where both of her cats—Doodles and Diablo—sat side by side, waiting for the dinner that was so long in coming. Elli began to wonder if the Viking would reply to her.

And then that gray-blue gaze swung her way again. “You will not be harmed. I will take you to your father. He will explain all.”

A shriek of rage and frustration rose in her throat. She had to swallow to banish it. She spoke with measured care. “None of that is the point. The point is—”

He raised that tattooed palm. “Enough. I have told you what will happen. Make your peace with it.”

Not in a hundred million years. “Untie me. I have to feed my cats.”

He just looked at her, reproach in those watchful eyes.

Though it galled like burning acid to do it, she gave him the oath he required. “I will not try to escape—not while we’re here, in my apartment. You have my word of honor on that.”

He studied her some more in that probing, intense way he had, as if he knew how to look through her skull, to see into her real thoughts and know for certain if she told the truth or if she lied. Finally, he bent to his boot and removed the black knife. Snick. The blade appeared, gleaming.

He rose and came toward her again. She wriggled sideways, twisting from the waist, presenting her bound wrists.

He slid the knife between them. She felt the cool flat of the blade. A quick, annoying brush of his skin against hers—and the rope fell away. She brought her hands to the front and rubbed her chafed wrists.

The Viking knelt before her, golden hair flowing thick and shaggy to his huge shoulders. He slipped the knife beneath the rope that bound her ankles. His fingers whispered against the upper arch of her foot—and her ankles were free. He raised the knife, the steel glinting, and slid it between her knees, slicing the rope there, his knuckles making brief and burning contact with the inside of her leg. When he pulled the knife away, he gave it a flick. The blade disappeared. Swiftly he gathered the bits of rope and the soggy gag.

The knife went into his boot and he stood. He backed away without once looking up, got a black bag from behind the easy chair and stowed the cut ropes and the gag in it. Then he sat in the chair once more.

Only then did he look at her, his eyelids low, his gaze brooding. “Go, Princess. Feed your animals.”

She stood slowly, expecting a little dizziness from the drug he’d used on her—and some stiffness from being tied up so tightly. But it wasn’t bad. Her head swam at first, and her stomach lurched, but both sensations passed quickly.

Her cats jumped up and followed her as she went past, Doodles meowing at her to hurry it up, Diablo a silent shadow, taking up the rear. She dished up the food, covered the half-used can and put it back in the refrigerator. Then she rinsed the spoon and stuck it in the dishwasher.

Her apartment, in a four-building complex, was at one end of her building. She had a window over her kitchen sink. She lingered for a moment, looking across at the next building over, and down at the slopes of grass and the concrete walkway below. She saw no one right then, but she couldn’t help wondering…

If she were to signal a passing neighbor, would that count as trying to escape?

“Princess.”

She let out a cry—actually a guilty-sounding squeak—and jumped back from the window. The Viking was standing about eight feet away, by her table with her bags of groceries still waiting on it. Damn him. How did he do it, appear out of nowhere like that without making a sound?

Slowly, he shook that gold head at her. As if he knew exactly the question she’d been asking herself and had materialized in her kitchen to let her know that he still had a few lengths of rope handy for any naughty princess who insisted on breaking her word.

“Look,” she snarled. “Do you mind if I at least put my groceries away?”

“As you wish.”

Hah, she thought. None of this—none—was as she wished.

But she’d already made that point painfully clear to him. And he was still here and still planning to take her to Gullandria with him as soon as it got dark.

With a sigh, she went to the table and began unloading the bags. He stepped out of the way, but he didn’t go back to his chair in the living room. Instead, he stood a few feet from the table, arms crossed over his chest, watching her put the lettuce and the Clearly Canadians in the refrigerator, the Grey Poupon in the cupboard.

Once she had everything put away, they returned to their respective seats in the living room.

The silence descended once more. He watched, she waited—or maybe it was the other way around. Doodles and Diablo jumped up beside her and settled in, purring. She petted them—the thick white coat, the velvety black one. There was some comfort in touching them, in feeling the soft roar of their purrs vibrating against 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 perfectly reasonable one. I want you to call my father and let me talk to him.”

Chapter Three

She wanted to talk to her father.

Hauk couldn’t believe it. The woman was too wily by half. She’d led him in circles until she had him right where she wanted him—with his head spinning. And then she’d made the one demand he wasn’t sure he could refuse.

It was removing the gag that had done it. He never should have made such a fool’s move. But his lord had tied his hands—as surely as Hauk had tied hers.

Bring her, but do it gently. Coax her, but use force if you must.

The instructions were a tangle of foggy contradictions. And that put Hauk in the position of abducting her—and also having to listen to whatever she had to say.

The cursed woman was still talking. “Hauk, come on. I know you have to have a way to get in touch with him—a beeper? A phone number? A hotline to Isenhalla? It’s so simple, don’t you see? I want you to call the number, or whatever it is, and let me speak with my father.”

Hauk didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. He sat still in the chair and said not a word.

Silence and stillness didn’t save him. Princess Elli rattled on. “My father wants me to come to him, period. But first and foremost, he hopes I’ll come to him voluntarily. And that’s perfectly understandable that he would want that—any father would, after all. And if a phone call will do that, will make me agree to go, then wouldn’t it be my father’s will that you call him and let me speak with him?”

Why wouldn’t the infernal woman shut up? Though Hauk had never before questioned the actions of his king, how, by the ravens of Odin, could he help but question them now?

The king’s orders echoed in his head. First ask the woman to come—and then force her if she refuses. And don’t forget—be gentle about it.

The king must have believed that she would refuse, or else why send his warrior to get her? Perhaps if she’d had need of a bodyguard…

But there had been no mention of an outside threat. Therefore, if His Majesty had truly believed the girl might come willingly, he would have chosen someone other than a fighting man to fetch her, someone with a honeyed tongue, someone who knew how to coax and cajole, someone who could outtalk the woman sitting opposite him now.

“First and foremost,” the irritating princess repeated for at least the tenth time, “he wanted me to want to come. So what could it cost you to call? Nothing. But if you don’t call, and later my father learns that all I wanted to come voluntarily was a chance to—”

“All right.”

Elli couldn’t believe her ears. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Had she actually gotten through to him? She gaped at him. “Uh. You mean, you will? You’ll call him?”

He had that black bag right beside him. He reached into it and pulled out a small electronic device—it looked like some kind of beeper. He punched some buttons on the face of the thing, stared at it for maybe fifteen seconds and tucked it back in the bag.

And then he straightened in the chair and stared straight ahead.

Elli couldn’t stand it. “What did you just do? What is happening?”

He waited a nerve-shattering count of five before he answered, “I have contacted your father. Unless something unexpected keeps him from it, he will be calling here within the hour.”

Forty-three minutes later, the phone rang. Elli leaped to her feet at the sound, jostling the cats, who shot from the couch and streaked off down the hall.

“Wait,” the Viking commanded.

“But I—”

“Stay where you are.”

Every nerve in her body thrumming with excruciating anticipation, Elli stayed put. The Viking went to the phone. He checked the call waiting display and then picked it up. “FitzWyborn here…yes, my lord. She is here. She has agreed to come with me, on the condition that she might speak to you first. Yes, my lord. As you will.” Hauk held out the phone to her. “Your father will speak with you, Princess Elli.”

Elli could not move.

That bizarre feeling of unreality had returned, freezing her where she stood. Surely this was all a dream. The father she had never known couldn’t actually be on the other end of that line. And, now that she thought about it, how could she possibly be certain that the man waiting to speak with her wasn’t an imposter? Hauk said the caller was her father, but his saying it didn’t necessarily make it so.

The Viking strode toward her. When he reached her, he opened his hand. On top of the blue-and-gold lightning bolt lay her phone. She took it, put it to her ear.

“Hello?” It came out sounding awful, whispery and weak.

“Elli.” The voice on the other end was gentle and deep. “Little Old Giant,” the voice said, so tenderly.

Little Old Giant. Nobody called her that. Nobody.

Except her mother, when she was a child…

“You’re my Little Old Giant, Elli, that’s what you are.”

“No, Mommy. I’m not a giant. I’m way too small.”

“But your name is a myth name. A name from the old, old stories that are told in the land where you were born.”

“In Gullandria, Mommy?”

“That’s right. In Gullandria. And in Gullandria, they tell the story of Elli, the giantess. Elli was a very old giantess—so old, she was old age itself. The Thunder god, Thor, was tricked into fighting her, though everyone knows…”

“You can’t fight old age,” Elli said softly into the phone.

Her father—and she knew it was her father now—laughed. He had a good, strong laugh. A kind laugh, warm and sure. He said, “Ah. Your mother has taught you something, at least, of who you are.”

Elli felt the tears. They burned behind her eyes, pushed at the back of her throat. Hauk had returned to his chair, but his ice-blue gaze was on her.

She looked away, dashed at her damp eyes and asked her father, “If you wanted to see me, why did you have to do it this way?”

“I need you to come, Elli. Please. Come with Hauk. Trust Hauk. He will never harm you and he will keep you safe. Let him bring you to me.”

“Father.” So strange. To be speaking to him, at last, after all these years. “You haven’t answered my question.”

There was a silence from the other end of the line. Elli heard static, in the background, thought of the thousands of miles of distance between her life, here, at home in Sacramento and her father, on the island of her birth in the Norwegian Sea. What time was it there? Late at night, she thought. Was he in bed as he talked to her, or fully dressed in some high-ceilinged study or huge palace drawing room?

He spoke again. “I have lost two sons. Is it so very strange that I would yearn to meet at last a daughter of my blood?”

“But why didn’t you just call me, ask me?”

“Would you have said yes?”

It was a question she couldn’t have answered five minutes ago—but that was before she heard his sad, kind voice calling her by the special name only he and her mother knew.

“I would have,” she said firmly. “In a heartbeat, I would have said yes.”

Hearing his voice did not, by any means, make everything all right. There remained great hurt in her heart, and bitterness, too. He had, after all, treated her and her sisters as disposable children. She knew something terrible had happened, all those years ago, between him and her mother, to make them carve their family in two, to send her mother fleeing back home to America with her three baby princesses, leaving her sons behind. Elli and her sisters had tried, over and over, to find out what had caused the awful rift. But their mother would not say.

Elli turned again toward the Viking sitting in her easy chair. She gave him her most defiant stare. Really, what was this crazy kidnapping plot of her father’s, if not his misguided way of fighting for a chance to make things right in their family at last? She wanted to go now, to meet her father face-to-face, to see the land of her birth. As it stood now, Hauk would have had to lock her up and throw away the key to keep her from going.

Her father said dryly, “Perhaps I was in error, not to call first.”

“You certainly were,” she chided him. “And what about Liv and Brit? Are you having them kidnapped, too?”

“No, Elli.” She could hear the humor in his voice. “Only you.”

“Why only me?”

He chuckled. “As a baby, you had curious eyes. I see some things haven’t changed.”

“So far, you’re just like this refugee from the WWE you sent here to strong-arm me.” She glared all the harder at Hauk and then accused into the phone, “You keep evading all my questions.”

“Come to me. You will know all.”

“That’s what he keeps saying.” He didn’t so much as blink. He was doing what he always did, sitting utterly still, staring steadily back at her.

Her father coaxed in her ear, “Elli, I do long to see your face, to talk with you at length, to get to know you, at least a little….”

Her throat closed up again. She swallowed. “I said I would come. I meant it.”

“Good then.”

“But first—”

Even through the static, she heard her father sigh. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Father, be reasonable. I can’t just…disappear. I have a life and my life deserves consideration. I have to get someone to feed my cats and water my plants. I have to call my principal at school, arrange for some family leave. And I have to see Mom and tell her—”

“Not your mother.” Her father’s voice was suddenly cold as the steel blade of Hauk’s knife. “Absolutely no.” It was a command.

Too bad. “There is no way I’m disappearing without explaining to her what I’m doing. She would be frantic, terrified for me. I could never put her through something like that.”