Royal Weddings: The Reluctant Princess / Princess Dottie / The Royal MacAllister

“Hildy, don’t be a sourpuss. This is Hauk.”

The housekeeper and the warrior exchanged cautious nods.

Elli could see that Hilda already suspected Hauk had not come from Cleveland. So she announced, “Hauk is here from Gullandria.”

Hilda took a step back.

Elli leaned on her door and got out of the car. “We have some things to talk about with Mom.” She kept a smile on her face and her tone light. The whole idea here was to make her mother—and Hilda—believe that the coming trip was completely her choice.

And it was her choice. They didn’t need to know that choosing not to go wasn’t an option.

Hauk took his cue from her and pushed open his own door. Swinging those powerful legs out, he planted his big boots on the concrete and unfolded himself from the passenger seat. Hildy was giving him the evil eye. He stared back, stoic as ever. Neither deigned to speak.

“Can we just go in?” Elli asked wearily.

“Certainly.” Hilda turned sharply on her crepe heel and headed toward the back door. She led them across the big service porch with its terra-cotta floor and profusion of potted plants, and from there, through the wonderful old kitchen where the green marble counters gleamed and the cabinets were fronted in beveled glass and something good was cooking, down the central hall to the family room.

“Your mother will join you shortly,” the housekeeper said as she ushered them into the room.

“Is she still at work?” Elli’s mother owned an antique shop downtown in Old Sac.

“She came in a few minutes ago. She only went up to change. Is there anything I can get you before I go?”

“Oh, Hildy. Will you stop it? Don’t I even get a hug?”

Hildy’s stern face softened slightly. “Come on, then.” She held out those long arms. Elli went into them, pressing herself close to Hildy’s considerable bosom, breathing in the housekeeper’s familiar scent of Ivory soap and lavender, thinking that those smells, for all her life, would remind her of home.

“Everything’s fine, honestly,” Elli whispered to the woman who was like a dear aunt or a grandmother to her.

Hildy said nothing, just gave her an extra squeeze before letting her go. “I’m in the kitchen, if you need me.”

“I think what I need is a drink,” Elli muttered as soon as Hildy had left them. “And don’t give me that look.”

Gold brows drew together over that bladelike nose. “Look?”

“Yes. There. That one.” She turned for the wet bar on the inner wall. “It’s almost like all your other looks, since pretty much your expression doesn’t change. But there are…minute shifts. The one I just saw was the disapproving one.” She found a half-full bottle of pinot grigio in the fridge and held it up. “You?”

“No.”

“Now, why did I sense that was what you would say?”

“You are distressed.”

She turned to look for a wineglass. “Yep. Distressed is the word. This is not my idea of a real fun time, you know? My mother is not going to be happy about our news. And I wish she had told me that my father had called, that he’d asked for my sisters and me. And I…” She let her voice trail off and shook her head. “You’re right. Wine is tempting, but overall, a bad idea.” She put the bottle away and then lingered, bent at the waist, one hand draped over the door to the half fridge, staring down into the contents. “Hmm. Diet 7UP, Mug root beer. Evian. But the question is, where are my—”

“Your Clearly Canadians are in the back, second shelf.” It was her mother’s voice, smooth as silk, cool as a perfectly chilled martini. She was standing in the open doorway to the hall.

“Hi, Mom.” Elli flashed her mother what she hoped was an easy smile. “Hauk? What can I get you?”

“Nothing. Thank you.”

Elli pulled out the tall pink bottle, shut the refrigerator and stood, her smile intact. Her mother, tall, blond as her daughters and stunningly beautiful in a crisp white shirt, a heavy turquoise necklace and black slacks, did not smile back.

“Mom, we were just—”

Ingrid wasn’t listening. “Who is this man?”

What to do? How to handle this? There was just no right approach to take.

Elli gestured with her bottle of fruit-flavored sparkling water. “This is Hauk FitzWyborn.”

Hauk whipped his big fist to his chest and lowered his head. “Your Majesty.”

There was an awful moment of total silence.

Then her mother said, too softly, “Hildy was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. She told me. But I refused to believe it.” Ingrid was looking at Elli again, blue eyes gleaming dangerously. “Let me guess. A warrior, right? One of Osrik’s goons, his… Viking berserkers?”

“Mom.” Elli set the unopened bottle on the bar and went to her mother. “Come on.” She took Ingrid’s elbow. “Let’s not—”

“Don’t.” Ingrid jerked free. “I want to know what’s happening here. I want to know why you’ve brought one of your father’s thugs into my house.”

Chapter Six

So much for the faint hope of giving this explosive subject the delicate introduction it deserved.

Elli made it short and simple. “Hauk is here to escort me to Gullandria. I’m leaving sometime in the next two days. Father has—” What to call it? “—invited me. And I’ve said I will come.”

Ingrid’s mouth had dropped open. “I don’t… You’re not… Surely, you can’t—”

Elli reached for her mother’s arm again. “Oh, Mom. Here. Sit down.” She made a shooing motion at Hauk, who still loomed nearby, hand to chest, head down, blocking the nearest chair.

Hauk got the message. He moved to the other end of the big room and pretended to stare out a window, giving them as much privacy as he could without actually leaving them alone together and going against the orders of his king.

Elli eased her mother down onto the cushions. “Mom. Please.” She knelt, took Ingrid’s trembling hand. “It’s not the end of the world. It’s…something you had to expect might happen someday, that one of us would want to go there, to meet our father face-to-face.”

Ingrid was shaking her head. “No. I never in a thousand years expected that. I’d always believed I made it clear to the three of you. To go back there is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.”

Elli squeezed her mother’s hand. “He is my father.”

Ingrid leaned close. “He gave you up.” She spoke low, with a terrible intensity. “Gave you up as I gave up our sons. And look what happened to them, to my little boys.” It hurt to see it, the way heartache could twist such a beautiful face. She gripped Elli’s hand more tightly. “Isn’t it enough that both of them are dead? He has no right, none, to summon you now.”

“But I want to go.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do. It’s important to me, to know my own father, to find out for myself what he’s like.”

“I can’t believe he’s done this. I told him no. I told him absolutely not, under any circumstances.” Ingrid didn’t seem to realize what she’d just let slip.