Prince and...Future Dad Read online

  "Please, Finn. Tell me. Why has my father sent you here?"

  He tipped his head, looked at her sideways. "You haven't talked to him?"

  "I saw him for a minute or two, just long enough to ask that he take me to you."

  Finn stepped closer and her heart seemed to swell with longing, to outgrow the space inside her chest. But he didn't reach for her. He grabbed one of the crude straight chairs, pulled it out and dropped into it. "Go back home. Forget about me. Your father is a good man, a reasonable man at heart. In time, he'll see the futility of keeping me here. I'll be released—a little ragged, somewhat unclean, but not appreciably the worse for wear."

  She took a step closer. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you here?"

  "Go home."

  "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

  He rested one fine hand on the table, idly flipped open the cover of a book, then sharply flicked it closed again. "Go home."

  She took the second step that brought her to the table and then she pulled out the other chair and sat opposite him. "There's no sense in refusing to tell me. You'll only force me to ask him. I have a feeling he's going to be all too willing to explain to me exactly why he's put you here."

  Finn grabbed the book and hurled it across the room. It landed against the stone with a hard smack, then slid, pages ruffling, to the floor.

  Liv looked at him for a long, cool moment. Then she rose, picked up the book and carried it back to the table, where she placed it on top of the stack. "Talk to me. Please."

  A stare-down ensued, a strange echo of their earlier times together—only reversed. Now he was the one scowling and angry, and she returned his glare with a calm, pleasant smile.

  "Please," she said at last, softly. Tenderly.

  "Go home." He stood. And then he turned and walked away from her, disappearing again into the darkness beyond the archway.

  * * *

  Her father rose from the chair behind his big inlaid desk when Liv returned to his private audience chamber. Prince Medwyn, his Grand Counselor, stood behind him, to his right.

  "Well," said Osrik. "Have you enjoyed a warm and tender reunion with the father of my grandchild?"

  Liv resisted the urge to say something a woman should never say to a king, even if that king happened to be her father. "He won't tell me why you sent him there."

  Osrik shook his head. "So stubborn. And so surprising. Prince Finn has, until very recently, ever been a reasonable man."

  "So I'm guessing you'll tell me. Why did you send him there?"

  Her father sank to his chair again. He laid both hands on the desktop and looked down at them. He appeared to be studying the big ruby on his right hand. He lifted his proud gray head and looked at Liv once more. "He tells me you refuse to marry him."

  Liv resisted the urge to explain herself. Instead, she proudly drew her shoulders back and answered, "That's correct."

  A slow smile took form on Osrik's still-handsome face. "Well, then. You have it in your power to secure his immediate release."

  She sucked in a slow breath. "By marrying him."

  "Ah. Good girl. Bright girl."

  Liv felt her temper rise. She made an effort to speak in an even tone. "I don't believe this. You threw a man prison because he couldn't convince me to marry him."

  Her father gestured broadly. "Ahem. Well. More or less."

  Clearly there was more going on here than she knew, more than she wanted to know. "What more?" she asked bleakly.

  "It matters not."

  "Not to you, maybe."

  "The plain fact is, you refused to marry him, in spite of all his efforts to seduce and cajole you. His charms are legendary, yet they failed against your stubborn determination to bear your child in shame. I was … disappointed in him. Extremely so. I sent him to Tarngalla in order that he might have the leisure to ponder my displeasure."

  "This is not the whole story, Father. I know there's more to it."

  Osrik sighed. "You are here, now, aren't you? You've left the summer employment you value so highly and come all this way to aid him. From this I deduce that the father of your child must mean something to you."

  "Of course he does." More than she had understood until she'd seen him in the darkness, brought so low. More than she wanted her father to know.

  More, she realized, than she quite knew how to handle.

  A rueful gleam lit the king's dark eyes. "Medwyn and I have been talking," he said. "At length. I see no harm in revealing to you now that at one time, we hoped that Elli, or you, or perhaps even Brit might marry Medwyn's son, Eric. Eric is a fine man, much beloved by the people, a good candidate for king when the time for the Kingmaking is on us again. Since your brothers are gone, I have dared to dream that someday my grandson, at least, will claim the throne.

  "However, things are not working out quite as I had planned. Elli has married my warrior. Eric has disappeared into the Vildelund and refuses, at least up to this point, to return. You are with child by Finn. Much discussion has led us to understand that we must be more … open to other ways of viewing this situation."

  None of this information was particularly surprising to Liv. Now that his sons were gone, it was only logical that her father would want one of his daughters to marry the future king.

  Osrik continued. "As a Danelaw, Finn is very much eligible for kingship. He could be groomed toward that end. Were you to marry him, you would be queen. And he seems an open-minded sort of man at heart, a man who would be quite amenable to the suggestions of a brilliant, politically minded wife. You could be, in the truest sense, the power behind the throne."

  Liv gaped at her father.

  "Close your mouth, daughter," said Osrik. "And tell us what you think of our idea."

  Liv shook her head. "Oh, Father. You just don't get it."

  Osrik looked weary suddenly. "What is it I don't 'get'?"

  "I don't want to be queen. I could never be satisfied with being the power behind anything."

  Her father almost smiled. "Ah. Such ambition."

  "That's right. I'm ambitious, and proud of it."

  "But do you have any hope of ever realizing your ambition?"

  "Yes. I believe I do. I'll be a senator, or maybe governor."

  Osrik grunted. "I know they're … progressive in America. But isn't it still the norm for a woman to marry first and then have children?"

  Liv stood tall. "Times change."

  Father and daughter regarded each other across the expanse of his desk. Osrik said, "Marry Finn. Set him free. And give your child a name."

  "And if I don't?"

  "You can consider yourself responsible for his extended imprisonment."

  * * *

  The three princesses met in the private sitting room of the suite assigned to Liv and Brit. Brit assured them they could speak freely. She'd made an ally of one of the agents at the National Investigative Bureau—the Gullandrian version of the FBI. The agent had dropped in for a visit just yesterday and swept the rooms for bugs. And Brit had sent the cook and the maid out on a few errands, a series of odd jobs that should take them several hours.

  Brit said, "This is how I see it. Dad wanted Finn to get you to marry him—any way he had to. Finn drew the line at force. And it's off to Tarngalla for him."

  Elli was nodding. "I buy that. After all, when Father decided he wanted me here in Gullandria, he sent Hauk to kidnap me."

  Liv gave her middle sister a look of pure disbelief. "You never told me that."

  Elli waved a hand. "It all worked out, didn't it? And the kidnapping part only lasted for a few hours. Then I realized I wanted to come. We reached an agreement. From then on, Hauk was merely my escort."

  "I don't know if I like the way you say 'escort.'"

  Elli sighed. "Livvy, it's in the past. Let it go."

  "But—" Liv cut herself off as she saw the impatient expressions on the faces of both of her sisters. "Okay, okay. So you're saying Father wanted Finn to … ab
duct me? To somehow force me to marry him?" Both of her sisters were nodding. "Oh, come on. People don't do things like that anymore. It's barbaric."

  "By our standards, maybe," Elli said. "But to a Gullandrian, your refusal to marry the father of your child is heartless in the extreme, a barbarism far beyond mere kidnapping."

  Liv stared at Elli. "You almost sound as if you feel the same way."

  Elli's blue eyes were so sad. "If you only knew what Hauk lived through as a child—what it was like for him, the ugly names they called him, the ostracism he suffered, simply because his mother refused to marry his father."

  Liv swallowed. "Really bad, huh?"

  "Terrible. There was plenty of physical abuse, of course. Many of the other children felt it was one-hundred-percent okay to do everything from throwing rocks at him, to ganging up on him and beating him bloody. But he says getting beat up was by no means the worst of it—and neither was the frequent name-calling. The worst was the constant awareness that he was not and never would be the equal of any other person born of married parents, no matter how low, mean or stupid those legitimate kids might be. He was a fitz and as a fitz, he was a rung or two down the ladder from a true human being."

  "That's hideous," said Liv.

  "Yes," said Elli, "it is."

  Both of her sisters were watching her expectantly. Liv looked from one to the other. "You both think I should do it, that I should marry Finn."

  Brit didn't even hesitate. "Under the circumstances, absolutely." Elli showed her support with a quick, firm nod. Brit went on, "Look. Even if you don't think the marriage will last, you're nuts for the guy. I can see it in your eyes every time you say his name. It's not as if there's anyone else you're in love with or anything. And if it doesn't work out, well, you stay married at least until the baby is born and then you go your separate ways. Divorce is never a great option for anyone. But in your situation, I'd say the possibility of it isn't near as awful as leaving Finn to rot in Tarngalla."

  Elli was sitting forward, eager to make a point or two of her own. "And you are of Gullandrian descent. Your father is king here."

  Brit chimed in, indicating Elli, "Your sister lives here."

  Elli continued. "You might want to visit again, now and then. If you don't marry Finn, I guarantee you'll never want to bring your child here. From what Hauk has told me, things are changing. Being a fitz isn't as bad as it used be. But it's bad enough. Even today, it would be an act of callous cruelty to bring your illegitimate child here, to put a little one through the intolerance he'd have to endure if you did."

  The scary thing was, Liv found she agreed with them. "You two make it seem as if there's no other choice."

  Brit said, "Hey. If you see some other option we haven't thought of—please. Share."

  Liv had nothing to share. Her father had done what he'd set out to do. She was boxed in tight. The only way out was to become Finn's wife.

  * * *

  Liv spoke with her father first thing the next morning. An hour later, she went to see Finn.

  He was sitting at the table in the front room of his cell when the guard ushered her in. He closed the book in front of him and leaned back in his chair, head tipped to the side, regarding her with an expression both distant and assessing.

  Her heart raced and her palms felt damp with nervousness. And also with longing. She'd been pondering, through the sleepless night just past, how very much she'd missed him in the days since he'd left her in California. Somehow, seeing him again yesterday had brought it sharply home to her. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted him back the way he'd always been before, charming and brilliant, flirting relentlessly and making the teasing fun of male-female interaction seem like high art. She wanted to see the gleam in those amber eyes again, the old gleam of humor and heat.

  Now, as she looked close, she saw that his eyes did gleam. But it wasn't the same. Now it was … dangerous. Feral. Those eyes warned her away even as her own longing pulled her on.

  Behind her, the key turned in the lock. The guard's trudging footsteps moved away from the thick door. "Well," she said, her voice so bright it verged on brittle, "you look much better."

  "Yes." He sketched an elegant shrug. "Not an hour ago, they led me to the showers and presented me with a change of clothes. And now, here I am, all cleaned up, at Her Royal Highness's pleasure." Somehow he made getting cleaned up for her sound reprehensible.

  "Oh, Finn. Why are you so … angry with me? I did come all this way. I'm here. I'll do whatever I can for you."

  He remained unmoved. "What you can do for me is to go home. I thought I made that clear when we spoke yesterday."

  She dared to step closer, to reach for the other chair. "Do you mind? May I sit down?"

  His gaze moved over her, burning where it touched. "Is there some way I can stop you?"

  "I'll take that as rhetorical." She forced a smile, pulled out the chair and sat.

  Finn watched her. She hadn't a clue what he was thinking. He seemed to be seething as he slouched in his chair and looked her up and down. At the same time, there was something frankly sexual in the way he stared at her. As if he wanted her desperately and despised himself for it. As if he couldn't decide whether to order her out again or grab her and carry her into the darkness beyond the arch on the side wall.

  A hot shiver ran through her. She wished he would do it—grab her, make love to her. She missed his touch so very much. And if he was cruel, so what? She could take it.

  She could take anything, if only she could somehow break through this awful, angry wall of silence between them.

  He spoke, too softly. "You have something to say to me?"

  She gulped. "Yes. I've talked with my father."

  "Ah."

  "He won't back down. Marry me, and you're a free man. Otherwise, you might never get out of here."

  He waved a hand lazily, the movement in direct contradiction to the focused intent in his eyes. "He'll change his mind. Once you go back to America, he'll have to admit that it accomplishes nothing to keep me here."

  "I think you're wrong."

  "It doesn't matter what you think."

  "It does if I'm right. I'd bet you ten years' income from my trust fund that if I don't marry you, you'll be here for a very long time."

  One side of his beautiful mouth lifted in a joyless approximation of a smile and he indicated the stack of books and the tablet and pens on the table in front of him. "I'll catch up on my reading. Work on my memoirs. And besides, it's not as if I have anything all that important to do, anyway."

  "Oh, please. What about your investments? Don't you have to manage them?"

  "Don't concern yourself."

  "But I do concern myself." For that, she got another shrug. She tried again. "And what about your sister and your grandfather? They must be worried sick about you."

  "They'll manage. They always have."

  Oh, she would never make him see reason on this. She said it straight out. "Please. Won't you marry me?"

  "No."

  Liv shut her eyes and counted to ten.

  Then she tried again. "Finn. I've thought it over. I've decided I was wrong before. And you were right. Marriage is the best way, for us. For our baby. I regret that I told you no so many times. I hope you can forgive me for that. But I want to marry you now. I truly do."

  He chuckled, the sound without humor. "Very touching. And also a lie."

  She sat forward and let her urgency show. "No. It's not a lie. It's the only way. Please. Won't you do it? Won't you be my husband?"

  He neither moved nor spoke. The bleak room seemed to echo with emptiness.

  She rushed to fill it. "I've talked it over at length with my infuriating father and with my sisters. I've … reevaluated the whole situation."

  "Have you?" He spoke coolly, distantly.

  "Oh, Finn. Why won't you admit it? Whatever you say to the contrary, you and I both know that you're not getting out of here any time soon—not unles
s you marry me."

  "So be it."

  She glared at him for several seconds. It had zero effect. He gazed back at her steadily, his face a blank.

  It wasn't easy, but somehow she managed not to start shouting at him. She asked with measured care, "How am I going to get through to you?"

  "You're not. Go home."

  It was too much. She threw her head back and let out a shriek of pure frustration at his pointless pig-headedness. "Oh, this is ridiculous." She jumped to her feet and rounded on him. "Even if you've decided for some reason to play it disgustingly noble and rot away in here for years, the least you can do is think of the baby. You know it's not fair to the baby. He—or she—will be Gullandrian every bit as much as he'll be an American. If we aren't married when he's born, he'll be an outcast in his father's land. I can't do that, to my baby, to our baby. It just isn't right."

  For a moment, she was certain he was going to rise and walk away, to disappear into the dim alcove beyond the arch again and leave her standing there wondering what to do now. But then he spoke. "I thought you said it didn't matter, that he would be American and in America, children are raised all the time by—"

  She didn't let him finish. "I know what I said. And I realize now I was wrong."

  "No." He shook his head slowly, his gaze on the cold gray stone floor. "You were right. I'm sure the baby will do well whether his parents are married or not—in America."

  She sat and leaned forward, straining toward him, wishing he would lift his head, meet her eyes. "But not here. Here, he'd be an outcast."

  "That didn't seem to matter much to you before."

  "At the time we spoke of it, I didn't really even believe I was pregnant. Now that I've had a few days to think about it, now I've accepted in my heart that I really am having a baby, I see things in a different light. Oh, Finn, if we don't marry, it's not going to be … viable to let the baby come here. Do you want that, really? Do you want your child never to know that precious Balmarran of yours? Never to see the land of his father's birth?"

  He lifted his head at last. His gaze probed hers. "I never wanted that. But you've been so … unyielding. So determined that the baby would be born American, that his status here would never matter, as he was never coming here."