7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Nothing feels better than a hot bath after a day out and about.
Soaking my sore tailbone in a lavender-scented bubble bath had not only washed away the grime of the day at the sheep farm, but it helped me sort out a few things mentally. Nothing calmed the soul like a long bath with purple bubbles.
While lounging in the tub, I rolled around several scenarios that might pave the way to opening up a discussion about my past blunders with Rani.
The first step was to get him to speak to me in complete sentences.
Brusque replies of one word did not a conversation make.
To do that, to get him to talk, I’d have to remind him of just how charming I was or at least show him that I was open to discourse.
Did that mean an open apology right out of the gate or a slower approach?
I’d never found myself in this situation before and had no clue how to win back a lover lost. I just knew that when I was with Rani, the world felt right.
My heart felt lighter. And my soul sang.
Pity I couldn’t come to that discovery back when the man was enamored of me. I was, to put it bluntly, a putz.
Still, even putzes could right a wrong. And that was what I would do.
I’d show him that I could be the kind of man he wished to be with again.
That was if he wasn’t already with someone.
Perhaps that was the first thing to do. Yes.
I’d have to dig a bit. Maybe ask Alva offhandedly over breakfast tomorrow if Rani is seeing someone.
Over the scrambled eggs as we buttered our toast. Just light chitchat as we broke our fast.
With that settled in my mind, I let my mind wander off to various little romantic trysts with the man of my dreams as I dried off and pulled on some pajamas and a robe.
We could vacation in the tropics, where his beautiful skin would darken slightly even with liberal applications of sunblock.
Mine would burn sadly, so I’d be under an umbrella with a book and a fruity cocktail as he splashed around in the surf, his glorious curls sodden, his chest wet and bared to my hungry—
The soft rap on my door tugged me from my equatorial fantasies. Cracking it open, I saw Rani in the corridor with a small tray and a sheepish expression. My heart did Simone Biles caliber flips.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” he opened with, to which I huffed.
“Rani, please. We’re not in public. We know each other quite well. Can we drop the royal titles?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Rani, come on.”
He drew in a long breath then let it out.
“Sorry.” I nodded as my sight moved from his lush mouth to a wild curl tickling his brow.
“Princess Alva asked me to check on you.” Oh.
That was disappointing. “She’s feeling much better now and will meet you for breakfast as usual.
She bid me to find something to bring you to ease the discomfort in your…
” His gaze darted to my lower half, which made his cheeks grow slightly darker.
“Bum area. I had the kitchen make you a pot of black tea, decaf, so as not to add to any insomnia you may be battling, with a plate of butter cookies and two paracetamol tablets.”
Well, this was lovely. And a heartening display since he could have simply rang the kitchen to have them deliver it to my room. Also, he remembered my struggles with sleeping and had taken care not to exacerbate them. Surely that was a good sign.
“How kind of you.” He blinked. “I mean, how kind of Alva. Would you like to join me for some tea and biscuits? I’m sure there are too much of both for me to finish up.”
I opened the door wider. The look that overcame him was akin to him viewing the rings of hell. Shit.
“No, no, that’s quite fine. I’m just visiting briefly for the princess.
I have to return to my room. There are posts to make and an agenda for tomorrow to work on still.
She was quite pleased with the sheep farm visit.
Social media feedback has been high and good.
People like to see the royals doing normal workaday things. ”
He pushed the tray into my chest, gave me a short bow, and hightailed it. I leaned out into the hall to peek at his trim backside in his tailored slacks as he sped away.
“Thank you!” I shouted after him as he whipped around a corner. Whether he heard me or not, I had no clue, but I retreated into my suite with tea, cookies, and the knowledge that Rani cared enough to bring me decaf. Things were looking up!
***
Breakfast the next day was proof positive that thinking good thoughts as you went to bed did not mean the happy vibes would make it until morning.
After a swim and a shower, I met with the family at eight sharp to eat. Alva was bright and chipper as we made our way to the buffet to choose our foods. My brothers were already seated, as were my parents. Mama was chatting with Frode about something in the news while Papa read a newspaper.
“You look much better,” I commented to Alva while lifting the lid off a platter of smoked breakfast sausages. The rich scent of sage greeted me, making my stomach rumble with hunger.
“I feel better. Hopefully it was just a sour stomach.”
“As do I. So how is Rani? Is he enjoying his new post? Is he doing a good job? Is he dating anyone?”
She looked up at me with curious blue eyes. “He seems well. I think he likes being in the UK a great deal. He is doing a wonderful job. And why do you ask?”
“Just making conversation,” I replied with cool indifference.
“As one does over the bagels. Well, as far as I know, he’s not seeing anyone seriously.” I mentally fist pumped the air. She gave me a delightful, knowing smile that began to fade as her vision fell to the sausages. “Oh, they seem quite greasy.”
“Mm, yes, they are and freshly brought in from local butchers. Nothing says breakfast like the slip and slide of pork grease seeping into your…are you not well?”
She swallowed twice, loudly, and bolted from the room with her hand over her mouth.
I watched her go and then looked at the others.
Ivar threw me a dark look. “What? I didn’t do anything.
We were just talking about the sausages when she went pale and ran.
” Papa shot to his feet with a red, angry face, the paper gripped tightly in his hands.
“Surely you don’t think to berate me over her reaction to breakfast sausage? ” I returned to dishing up my food.
“Do you know what this is?” the king asked. I peeked over my shoulder to see him waving the paper about.
“It’s called a newspaper. It’s a rather archaic means of disseminating information to the masses. One step above a town crier in today’s world.”
My brothers snickered.
“Why are you always so caustic?” Papa shook the paper at me. “What the hell do you think when saying something this uncouth in front of the press?”
I sighed wearily and spooned some fluffy eggs onto my plate. “You’ll have to be more specific, Papa. I say many things that you deem uncouth.”
“I’ve been rearended before but never with that much force,” he barked, ruffling the paper I assumed had that quote written in it somewhere. “Did you think that was humorous?”
“I did, yes,” I confessed as I eyed the choices of toast. White or rye? Rye.
“Papa, seriously, it was rather funny in the context of the incident,” Frode said from behind me. My chest warmed at the brotherly support. I turned to give the crown prince a nod of thanks.
“I laughed out loud when I saw the snippet on Instagram,” Ivar added as he rose from his seat. “I have to check on Alva.”
“She’s probably sick to her stomach over the knowledge that her brother-in-law makes jokes about allowing another man to…to do such a thing,” Papa snarled before chucking the paper to the table. “You know how women are!”
“No, Magnus, we don’t know how women are.
Why don’t you enlighten us, darling?” Mama said in a tone that dripped with regal displeasure.
She removed her reading glasses to give Papa the full power of her death glare.
I stood rooted to the spot, unwilling to step into that laser beam of female ire lest I be vaporized.
“Linnea, now is not the time. Your son has spouted off in front of the media about his past sexual frolics. Do you have any idea how the bishop is going to react when he sees this?”
“I think now is the perfect time, to be honest,” Mama replied, placing her glasses beside her bowl of oatmeal and muesli. “It was a jest, Magnus. And a clever one at that. If the bishop or anyone else takes offense over a witty pun, then they can just go diddle themselves.”
“Linnea!” Papa gasped, his eyes as round as my plate.
“And as for the comment about knowing how women are, it reeked of misogyny and old-fashioned thinking. Women are quite capable of hearing unpleasant things. Take your overreaction to a tiny joke made after a rather humiliating experience. I, for one, think Harold showed great aplomb, given his chin was coated with sheep dung. Furthermore, if you speak about my sex again with such disregard, I will not only bar you from sitting beside me at breakfast, I will bar you from your monthly visit to my bedchamber.”
My mouth fell open slightly as did Frode’s. Papa gaped. Mama rose from her seat, picked up her glasses, and strode off with her head held high.
“What is taking over this family?” Papa asked of no one before stamping off to sulk.
I glanced over at Frode. “Well, let it never be said that our mother is a pushover.”
“We’ve known that for years,” he replied and started cracking open his coddled egg. “Seems Papa has forgotten again.”
As they say, the king moves one square, but the queen holds the power.