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Chapter Four

Liv stared at her father. Surely he hadn’t said what she’d thought he’d said.

She heard herself croak in sheer disbelief, ‘‘You can’t be serious.’’

‘‘Ah,’’ said her father in a gentle, kindly tone that made her want to grab a heavy, blunt object and break it over his head. ‘‘But I am serious. A marriage has become imperative. And I think you know why.’’

Liv kept her shoulders back and her hands at her sides. Of course, it didn’t matter what he knew or what he commanded her to do—at least, not aside from how utterly mortified she felt at the thought that somehow her father had found out about Friday night. She was her own woman and would run her own life.

And never in a million years would she marry Finn Danelaw.

Still, she did want to know what information he actually had and where he might have gotten it. She sent Finn a hot glare. He looked back at her, one bronze eyebrow slightly lifted—cool, collected. Giving her nothing.

Her father continued, ‘‘I know that you and Finn spent Midsummer’s Eve out in my parkland, indulging in…amorous adventures, shall we say?’’

‘‘Who told you that?’’

Osrik didn’t even blink. ‘‘You deny it?’’

She did not. She wasn’t proud of the truth, but she had more respect for herself than to tell lies about it. ‘‘I only asked who told you.’’

Her father waved a hand. ‘‘Suffice to say, there is nothing you do in Isenhalla or on the grounds surrounding it that I won’t learn about.’’ He paused, then swept his arm out toward the windows—and the world beyond. ‘‘There’s nothing you do in the whole of my kingdom that I won’t hear of, eventually.’’

‘‘Spies?’’ she demanded. ‘‘That’s what you’re talking about. You’ve got spies on me—and on Brit, too, right?’’ Suddenly, the annoying behavior of the chambermaid was starting to make sense. And if he had the chambermaid reporting to him, spying on his daughters for him, then he probably did know everything. It was altogether possible that the maid could have been there, lurking, listening to everything Liv had told Brit both last night, and the night before.

Osrik went on, ‘‘I was prepared to overlook your misadventures the other night. After all, it was Midsummer’s Eve and you were raised an American. You have no real sense of your true place and responsibilities in the world. But a pregnancy cannot be overlooked.’’

Liv stared at her father unflinching. ‘‘With all due respect, Father, I’m not even going to dignify that bit about me and my ‘place’ in the world with a response. As for the rest of it—ridiculous. Prince Danelaw and I were…together for one night. It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours since then. The likelihood that I’m pregnant isn’t all that high—and there’s no way to prove it right now, even if I am.’’

Osrik granted her an infuriatingly patronizing shrug of his proud, well-tailored shoulders. ‘‘I had, I confess, high hopes for you, Liv. I won’t go into detail about my plans. There’s no point. Now that there’s a child coming, my hopes must be put aside.’’

The man was impossible. Assumption piled upon assumption. Liv didn’t know how to answer them all. So she picked one of the major ones. ‘‘How many ways can I say it? You don’t know that I’m pregnant. I don’t know that I’m pregnant. There is no way for anyone to know at this point whether I might be pregnant or not.’’

‘‘Of course there’s a way. There’s what happened to you last night.’’

‘‘Who told you what happened to me last night?’’

He didn’t answer, only went on as if she hadn’t asked the question. ‘‘Your mother had my children. I know the Freyasdahl symptoms and I know those symptoms have never been wrong. You’re pregnant, Liv. I’ve spoken with Finn and he has agreed to marry you as soon as we can reasonably make the arrangements.’’

Liv could not find words blistering enough to express her unqualified contempt for virtually everything her father had said since she’d entered that room. While she cast about for them, Osrik let out a long sigh. He and Prince Greyfell exchanged knowing looks.

Osrik said ruefully, ‘‘As I mentioned, this marriage is not what I intended for you. But after what happened with Elli—which was not at all what I at first wanted for her—I find I’m learning to be more flexible.’’ He gestured grandly at Finn, as if drawing her attention to some fine piece of horseflesh or a prime breeding bull. ‘‘Finn Danelaw is the scion of an ancient and important family. His holdings are extensive. You will not be disappointed in the wealth and influence he brings you. It’s not a bad match by any means.’’

Liv was still seeking the right final, scathing words. They had to be just right. After all, her father was a king. And even a daughter had to use some care when giving a dressing-down to a king. She slid one more hard, burning glance at Finn. He met her look coolly, as if none of this ridiculousness really involved him, as if he were a mildly interested spectator at a melodramatic play.

Liv almost hated him at that moment. How dare he stand there, looking faintly amused as her father informed her that she had to bind her life to his?

She faced her father proudly. ‘‘Listen. Listen carefully. It is not going to happen. I am not marrying Prince Danelaw. I am…appalled at this, at all of this. I don’t know which of your outrages to answer first. If you will remember, you gave up my sisters and me when we were only babies. We never knew you. We still don’t know you.’’ And I don’t want to know you, she added silently. ‘‘The mere fact that you would dare to have ‘plans’ for me is insulting enough. But the rest is so much worse. You’ve spied on me. You’ve invaded my privacy and found out things you have absolutely no right to know. You’ve taken the information gleaned by your spies and used it to pressure a man who doesn’t love me—a man I don’t love—into marrying me. Evidently, all the awful things my mother ever hinted at about you are true. You’re an impossible chauvinistic manipulator of other people’s lives.’’

There was a rather grisly silence. Liv knew she had gone too far, but she couldn’t make herself feel sorry that she’d done it.

At last, her father said, too quietly, ‘‘You would do well to guard that tongue of yours, daughter. No matter what you may think of me, I am king here.’’

‘‘Yes, you are,’’ Liv readily agreed. ‘‘And that’s why I’m going back to my country. Today. I am not—’’

‘‘Stop!’’ Osrik cut her off with a booming shout and then instantly lowered his voice to an ominous growl. ‘‘You will go nowhere. No daughter of mine will bear a bastard. It’s a crime against humanity and I won’t have it.’’

‘‘You?’’ Liv went nose to nose with him. ‘‘You won’t have it? You don’t have a thing to say about. No horse in this race. No dog in this show. If, by chance—and believe me, I don’t think it’s so—I do turn out to be pregnant, I’ll be the one deciding what to do about it. And one thing I can tell you right now, I won’t be marrying Finn Danelaw and I’m going home today—and all right, that’s two things, and I’m doing both of them.’’

‘‘You will stay!’’ Her father shouted. ‘‘You will marry!’’

‘‘No, I won’t!’’

‘‘Don’t you dare to disobey me!’’

‘‘Disobey you? How could I possibly disobey you? I am not one of your subjects, nor am I a—’’ Liv broke off with a cry of surprise. Finn had stepped up and snared her hand. She rounded on him. ‘‘Let me go, you—’’ Something in his eyes stopped her, just cut her off cold.

She glared at him, fuming, as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. It was smoothly done— lightly, with what seemed like no effort at all.

His grip, however, wasn’t light in the least. It was warm steel.

He leaned too close and whispered silkily, ‘‘Come with me, my darling. We’ll talk.’’

A shiver went through her, purely sexual, at the sound of that whisper, at the feel of his breath against her cheek. Her own response stunned her. How could she even think about sex at this moment, let alone shiver over it?

She opened her mouth to announce that she was not, by any stretch of a wild imagination, his darling, and he’d better let go of her or she’d break his damned arm—but then she noticed that her father had stepped back.

Apparently, Osrik was willing to let Finn handle this.

Ha. Finn Danelaw was not the one who’d be doing the handling here. The man was a player, after all. Not the marrying kind, as they say. If she got him alone, it should be easy to make him admit he was only doing this because he felt he had to. Once she made it clear to him that he didn’t have to, they could come to an understanding—one in which he could go his way and she would go hers.

‘‘All right,’’ she said loftily. ‘‘We’ll go to my rooms.’’

Her head high, she allowed Finn to lead her out.