Читать книгу Royal Weddings - Joan Elliott Pickart, Christine Rimmer - Страница 16

Chapter Ten

The jarring bleat of the phone ruined everything.

Hauk went still as a statue in Elli’s arms.

She gripped his big shoulders and begged him, ‘‘Oh, please, just let it ring.’’

But he was already taking her hands, gently peeling them away, his face flushed and regretful, shaking his head. ‘‘We must stop. You know that.’’

‘‘No, I don’t know that. I don’t know that at all.’’

He stepped back from her. She had that feeling of something tearing again, as in the movie theater the day before. Only worse. A thousand times worse.

He said softly, ‘‘Answer the phone.’’

She wanted to scream, to throw something. ‘‘No.’’

‘‘Don’t behave like a spoiled child.’’

He was right and she knew it.

Not about having to stop—never, ever about that. She had given up fighting this lovely, impossible magic between them. And she was furious with him all over again, to look in his face and see his jaw was set—like his mind—against her, against what might be between them, against all they might share.

But acting out wouldn’t solve anything. She went to the counter and punched the button that answered the call on speakerphone. ‘‘Hello?’’

‘‘Elli. Oh, sweetheart…’’

‘‘Aunt Nanna.’’ Like her daughters, Elli’s mother had been one of fraternal triplets. Elli’s Aunt Kirsten lived in San Francisco. Aunt Nanna lived in Napa. There had been a brother, too, but he had died when Elli and her sisters were babies.

Nanna made a worried noise, low in her throat. ‘‘I was afraid…’’

‘‘Afraid of what?’’

‘‘That you’d already have gone.’’

Elli shut her eyes and tried to collect her scattered wits, to concentrate on what her aunt was saying instead of thinking of what hadn’t quite had a chance to happen between her and Hauk. ‘‘I, uh, take it you’ve been talking to Mom?’’

‘‘Oh, Elli. I just got off the phone with her.’’

Elli opened her eyes and there he was, watching. She turned away, toward the window, so she wouldn’t have to look at him. ‘‘I’ll be leaving in a few hours.’’

‘‘Oh, honey, are you absolutely sure about this?’’

‘‘Yes. I’m positive.’’ And she was. Positive about a lot more than just the trip to meet her father.

‘‘Ingrid’s so worried for you. I am, too. You don’t really understand the way things work in that place. I’m sorry to say it, but your father is not a man anyone should trust. He broke your mother’s heart, you know, he broke—’’

Elli had heard it all before. ‘‘Nanna, what, exactly, did he do that’s made you all hate him so?’’

Nanna took a moment to answer. Elli could just see her, pursing up her mouth. Finally she said, ‘‘You’ll have to speak with your mother about that.’’

‘‘That’s what you always say. And when I ask Mom, I get nothing. So let’s just leave it, okay? Accept the fact that I have to meet him, to decide how I feel about him for myself.’’

Nanna made a small, frustrated sound.

Elli said firmly, ‘‘I want to do this, I sincerely do.’’

Nanna sighed. ‘‘Your mother warned me that there’d be no way to change your mind.’’

‘‘And she was right—how’s Uncle Cam?’’ Her uncle was a total type A. He’d had a quadruple bypass a couple of months ago.

‘‘Elli—’’

‘‘Come on, Aunt Nanna. I’m going and that’s all there is to it. So how’s Uncle Cam?’’

The silence that followed told Elli her aunt was debating with herself—to let it be as Elli asked. Or to press on with her warnings and her worries.

Nanna let it be. ‘‘Your Uncle Cam is doing well. We’ve got him eating low-salt and low-fat. He’s taking his medication….’’

They talked for a few more minutes, about her cousins, Nanna’s son and daughter, who were both in high school, about Elli’s two classes of bright-eyed kindergartners. Elli promised she’d make it over to Napa at least once during her summer break.

‘‘Take care,’’ Nanna said at last. ‘‘Be safe.’’

‘‘I love you. I will.’’

The line went dead and after a second or two, the dial tone buzzed. Hauk was the one who reached out and pressed the button to cut off the sound. Elli turned from the window and met his eyes. Distant eyes now. Once again, he had barricaded his heart behind a shield of watchfulness. Looking at his stern, unforgiving face, she wanted to throw herself against him, to beat on his broad chest, to demand that he show her his real, tender self again.

Her shirt was wet, where he’d put his mouth to her breast. She looked down at it, at the moist circle over her right nipple. Then, proudly, she lifted her head.

‘‘Guess I’d better change my shirt.’’

‘‘Pack,’’ he said. The single word echoed harshly, like a door slamming shut.

What more could she say, except, ‘‘Yes. I guess I’d better do that.’’

For once, he didn’t fall in behind her as she turned for the hall. Great, she thought. She could use a break. A few precious minutes to herself, to get past her shameless disappointment at losing her chance to get lost in his arms.

Elli paused in the doorway to her bedroom. She leaned her forehead against the doorframe and shut her eyes and wished it didn’t have to be like this.

Maybe she should just look on the bright side. At least for a few unforgettable minutes there, she’d had a taste of what it might be like to be Hauk Fitz-Wyborn’s love….

Elli drew herself up. Really, looking on the bright side just wasn’t going to cut it. She unbuttoned the shirt that was still wet from his kiss and went to the bathroom to toss it in the hamper.

Okay, so he’d been saved by the bell. This time.

In her bedroom, she pushed open her closet door.

He still had a commitment to escort her to Gullandria. And after they got there, she might find ways to see him, to be near him.

She took a jewel-blue silk shirt from a hanger, put her arms in the sleeves and buttoned it up.

Why not think positively? She wanted him, she cared for him. And as hard as he kept fighting it, she believed in her heart that he wanted and cared for her, too.

He’d let down his guard once. It could happen again. Maybe she’d get another chance to show him just how strongly she felt for him. And maybe next time, he wouldn’t push her away.

She got her big suitcase and hoisted it to the bed, laying it open. Standing very still, she listened. She heard nothing. Hauk could move so quietly. He might be standing in the doorway right now.

She shot a glance over her shoulder.

Empty.

Good. She listened some more and ended up deciding she felt reasonably certain he’d yet to leave the kitchen. He didn’t want to be near her right now. He needed a little time to marshal his defenses against her.

Suited her just fine.

She went to the tall dresser by the inner wall and pulled open the top drawer—all the way open, so she could get to the very back of it.

Her hand closed on the box that she’d pushed in there a few months ago. She’d been dating someone then, on a regular basis. She’d thought that maybe it might become more than it was.

But the relationship had cooled before it ever really heated up. In the meantime, though, she’d bought the box of condoms, just in case.

Right now, with Hauk, it was much more than a just in case situation. If a miracle happened and he held out his arms to her, she would run to him, eagerly. Better safe than sorry, if her dreams did come true.

At ten-thirty, she was ready to go. She got her passport from the desk in the spare room. She was slipping it into her purse when Hauk appeared in the doorway.

‘‘Are you ready?’’

She thought of the box of condoms and she almost let out a wild little laugh. ‘‘Um-hm.’’

‘‘Your suitcase?’’

‘‘In my bedroom.’’

He turned toward the door to her room.

She followed behind him. ‘‘I packed my overnighter, too. And I can carry both bags myself, honestly. The big one has those rollers and…’’ She let her voice trail off. There was no point in saying more.

He slung the strap of the smaller bag over his shoulder and he grabbed the handle of the big suitcase and headed for the front door.

Fine. Let him haul it all down the stairs by himself if he wanted to. She checked the lock on the patio door and made sure all the lights were out. He waited for her by the front door, laden with her bags and that big black duffel of his, too.

She opened the door and gestured him out ahead of her. At the base of the stairs, she turned for the carports.

‘‘No,’’ he said. ‘‘Follow me.’’ He led her out another way, to a side street and a black van.

‘‘Tinted windows,’’ she remarked. ‘‘An absolute necessity when it comes to kidnapping unwilling princesses.’’

It was a bad joke and it fell flat. He didn’t bother to respond.

She just couldn’t leave it at that. ‘‘I suppose you’ll want me to drive. You’ll need your hands free to keep me under control. Then again, who knows? If I’m behind the wheel, I could go wild, decide to make a break for Bakersfield.’’

He was already turning for the driver’s door himself. ‘‘Just get in.’’

Her father’s Gulfstream jet had a roomy pressurized cabin furnished with six high-backed leather seats, teak tables beside them. There were also a collapsible dividing wall and a full-size bed that could be pulled down to make the divided-off space into a flying bedroom.

‘‘Does Your Highness wish a nap?’’ the attendant inquired. She was a tall blonde in a slim black skirt and a crisp white shirt. She had a blue-and-gold lightning bolt embroidered on her pocket as well as on the crest of her jaunty-looking red garrison cap.

‘‘No, thanks.’’ Elli took one of the high-backed leather chairs as Hauk, shoulders hunched, golden head grazing the ceiling, moved farther down the cabin.

‘‘Refreshment?’’

‘‘Not right now.’’ Elli’s mind wasn’t on food. She resisted the urge to lean out of her seat and look back at Hauk. He’d been depressingly silent on the drive to the airport—not that his silence was anything all that new or different. It only seemed that way, after those beautiful, too-brief moments in his arms.

‘‘Fasten your seatbelt,’’ said the flight attendant. ‘‘We’ll be cleared for takeoff soon.’’

Elli nodded and smiled and the attendant left her alone. She looked out the window as they taxied along the runway. It all seemed so… civilized, the attractive attendant, the beautifully appointed jet. She couldn’t help wondering what the attendant might have said to her had Hauk brought her on board all tied up with a gag in her mouth.

Probably nothing. The woman would have pulled the collapsible divider across the cabin and brought down the bed and Hauk would have dropped Elli on it without anyone asking if she’d care for a nap.

It would be a long flight, but it would be nonstop. Hauk sat in his seat and tried not to stare at her seat in front of him. The sky out the window was clear. Fat white clouds drifted below the wing.

It was over—their time together. In the end, his sense of duty and his understanding of his place in the world had triumphed. He hadn’t succumbed to the desperate hunger that would have caused her nothing but shame and heartache and cost him more than he cared to contemplate. He told himself he was glad it had gone no further between them.

An indiscreet embrace and a few passionate kisses—more than he should have allowed to happen. But not total disaster. Thanks to a ringing phone, he’d stopped it in time.

He was weary. Of everything. Hauk shut his eyes and allowed himself to disappear into the first deep sleep he’d known in days.

He woke, startled, when the plane dropped several hundred feet and then slammed against an air current below.

The attendant, in a chair down near the cockpit door, wore a bright, professional smile. ‘‘A little turbulence. Nothing to worry about.’’

He took her at her word, at first. But the going got rougher, the plane rising and dropping like a toy in the hands of a brutal child. Rain drove against the windows. The sky beyond the insulated panes was black a few feet from the glass—except when Thor threw his hammer and lightning in ragged fingers lit the blackness with a golden-green light, followed not long after by the deafening crack and roll of thunder.

Hauk got up and worked his way forward. He paused by the seat of the princess—after all, it was his duty to check on her. To keep her safe.

She looked up at him. ‘‘Kind of rough, huh?’’

‘‘You’re all right?’’

She gave him a nod. ‘‘I’m good.’’ It was another reason among the thousand reasons that she was a woman any man would covet—she didn’t frighten easily.

Lightning speared through the blackness outside again, its eerie glow suffusing the cabin. Thunder boomed. The plane dropped sharply, then bottomed out hard against the fist of a rising air current.

And through it all, he stared at her and she looked up at him, her face pale and calm and so beautiful it felled him like a deathblow from an enemy’s ax. ‘‘I’ll check our status with the pilot.’’

She nodded, shifted that haunting gaze away. He staggered on toward the cockpit.

The pilot told him what he’d already deduced. There was no fighting through this mess. They no longer had the fuel to make it all the way to Gullandria. They would have to land, refuel and then wait for the storm to blow itself out.

It was, to say the least, a rocky next few hours. Elli was never so grateful as when Hauk told her they’d gotten the go-ahead to land at a private airstrip just outside of Boston.

The landing was one of those lurching, scary, hope-I-never-do-this-again kind of experiences. But they made it and they made it safely. As soon as the plane taxied to a stop, Hauk went forward a second time to speak with the pilot.

He came out looking bleak. ‘‘The storm shows no signs of abating. This will be an overnight stop.’’

‘‘Will we just stay here, on the plane?’’

He shook his head. ‘‘I’ll arrange for suitable lodging.’’

Lodging. A triumphant little thrill shot through her. Hauk wouldn’t be rid of her quite as soon as he’d hoped.

And so very much might happen, in one more night alone together….

Half an hour later, Elli looked out the window and saw a long, black limousine rolling across the tarmac toward the jet.

‘‘Will you have need of both your suitcases?’’ Hauk asked, his tone carefully formal.

Elli had flown enough to be prepared for situations like this. ‘‘Just the smaller one.’’

‘‘Your Highness.’’ The flight attendant presented her with a big black umbrella at the cabin door.

‘‘Thanks.’’ The rain was coming down in sheets, the wind gusting hard.

Halfway down the steps, the umbrella turned inside out. Hauk, right behind her, took it from her hand. He shouted against the gale, his voice hearty with sudden good humor, ‘‘Speed will serve you better than this.’’ He held the ruined umbrella high. Already, that golden hair was plastered to his head. Water ran off his bladelike nose. His eyes gleamed. Apparently, he liked wild weather—enough that he’d even forgotten for a moment to treat her like the princess he didn’t dare to touch. ‘‘Run!’’

She took off down the final steps and sprinted across the streaming pavement to the open door of the limousine. Hauk ducked in right after her, pulling the door shut, tossing the useless umbrella to the floor. They waited a moment or two, while the necessary bags were stowed in the trunk. And then they were off.

Their hotel suite was on the thirty-fifth floor, with a view of the harbor where the storm was tossing all the boats around. There were two big bedrooms, each with its own bath, a living and dining area between. Elli suppressed a knowing smile when she saw there was a second bedroom. Wishful thinking on Hauk’s part. The poor man. Duty bound to sleep wherever she did.

Oh, yes. It could turn out to be a very interesting night.

They ate dinner in the room. Elli hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the bellhop wheeled it in. She’d ordered the pheasant. It was absolutely wonderful.

For dessert, she had amaretto crème brûlée. It was practically sexual, how delicious it tasted. She ate every last creamy bit.

Hauk, on the other hand, seemed to have little appetite. He mostly sat and watched her. He was looking broody again.

She could almost feel sorry for him.

A whole night of temptation ahead. How would he get through it?

Ah, well. She’d do her very best to help him with that.

She sent him a bright smile. ‘‘Does my father know we’re going to be a day late?’’

He nodded. ‘‘The message has been sent.’’

Via the mysterious black beeper thingy, no doubt. ‘‘Well, good. I wouldn’t want him to worry.’’

Hauk narrowed his eyes at her. ‘‘You are much too cheerful.’’

She toasted him with the last of her wine—he, of course, wasn’t having any. ‘‘You’d rather I scowled and brooded like you?’’

‘‘You have some scheme you’re hatching.’’

‘‘You are just so suspicious.’’

‘‘Not without good cause.’’

‘‘What can I tell you? I was born in Gullandria and Osrik Thorson is my father. Scheming comes as naturally to me as… tying people up does to you.’’ She drank and set the empty glass down.

He said, thoughtfully, ‘‘It takes study and practice to master the secrets in a strong length of rope.’’

She looked at him sideways. ‘‘Now, why did that sound like some kind of veiled threat?’’

He drank from his water glass. ‘‘I am your servant. Never would I threaten you.’’ He set the glass down and pushed back his chair. ‘‘I bid you good night.’’

It took her a moment to absorb what he’d just told her. He’d already grabbed that black duffel of his from where he’d left it in the corner and strode to the door of one of the bedrooms before she stopped him.

‘‘Hauk.’’

He turned, put his fist to his chest and dipped his head. ‘‘At your service.’’

‘‘What are you doing?’’

‘‘Going to bed.’’

‘‘But I’m… not ready for bed yet. I want a long bath first.’’

‘‘By all means, have your bath. Watch the television from your bed as you enjoy doing. This is America. There’s a television in every room.’’

She didn’t like what she thought might be happening here. ‘‘Then we are, uh, sleeping in separate rooms tonight?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

She had an awful, sinking feeling. All her glorious and naughty plans to seduce him were destined to come to nothing, after all. Disappointment had her dishing out a mean-spirited taunt. ‘‘You do serve me. I could command you to sleep at the foot of my bed.’’

‘‘Yes. But that would be needlessly cruel and you are not that kind of woman.’’

Her throat felt tight. She swallowed. ‘‘Hauk?’’

‘‘Yes?’’

‘‘You would rather take a chance that I might run away than sleep in the same room with me tonight?’’

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

She felt ashamed. ‘‘I won’t run away—wherever you sleep.’’

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke. Rain beat against the wide window that looked out on the lights of Boston and the harbor beyond. Lightning jumped and flashed across the black sky. Elli felt that something very precious, a onetime chance that would never come again, was slipping away.

‘‘All right,’’ she said at last. ‘‘Good night, then.’’

He turned and went through the door to the bedroom, closing it quietly behind him.

Hauk tossed his duffel on the bed and strode to the bathroom, pulling off his clothes as he went. He turned on the shower and stepped into the stall with the water running cold.

It wasn’t cold enough. It could never be cold enough. The ice-crusted Sherynborn—the river that ran through the Vildelund at home—in dead of winter wouldn’t be cold enough.

He stayed in there for a long time. It didn’t help, not in any measurable way. It didn’t cure him of the yearning that was eating him alive. But the beating of the cool water on his skin provided something of a distraction, at least.

When he got out, he toweled dry and then he spent an hour on the dragon dials, a series of strenuous exercises consisting of slow, controlled movements combined with precise use of the breath. He’d learned the dials at his mother’s knee. There were, after all, some benefits to being born the bastard of a well-trained and highly skilled woman warrior. Fighting women took great pains to develop control and flexibility in order to make up for their lesser physical strength. A woman warrior sometime in the 17th century had created the discipline of the dials.

All his life, the dials had served him well. They brought him physical exhaustion and mental clarity, always.

But not tonight. Nothing seemed to help him tonight.

He showered again—quickly this time—to wash off the sweat. Then he stood in the middle of the bedroom and stared at the shut door to the central living area and tried not to think how easy it would be to pull it open, to stride across the space between his room and hers.

A knock and she would answer. She would open her arms to him. She had made that so very, very clear.

Somehow, he kept his hand from reaching for the door. He climbed naked into the bed with thoughts that were scattered. Wild.

He stared toward the window opposite the foot of the bed. He’d left the blinds open. The rain beat against the single wide pane, streaming down in glittering trails, like veils of liquid jewels. When the lightning speared through the sky, the room would flash as bright as day. He tried to concentrate on that, on the beauty of the storm.

But he was not successful. Images of the woman kept haunting him. He arrived, constantly, at the point of thinking her name.

He’d already deliberately disobeyed his king, left her to her own devices for this entire night. She might turn and run. He’d have to track her down, or it would not go well for him.

But she’d said she wouldn’t run. And in his heart, he believed her.

The chance she might flee was not the true problem here. His climbing from this bed and going to her—that was the problem.

His own mind, usually a model of order and discipline, betrayed him now. It mattered not what orders he gave it, it would continue straying to forbidden thoughts of what it might be like, for just one night, to call her his love.

He lay there and he stared into the darkness. He listened to the storm raging outside and he tried not to see her face, not to think her forbidden name.

And in the end, it was as if all his efforts to deny her had only conjured her to come to him.

There was a soft knock at the door.

It fell to him to call out, Go away.

But he said nothing. He lay there. Waiting.

Slowly, the door opened and there she was in her big pink shirt.

He sat up. And he said the word he’d vowed to himself that he would never say—her name, unadorned.

‘‘Elli.’’