staring at the bath mat beneath her bare feet.
The sound of the door shutting downstairs brought her up straight.
Finn must have left.
She sighed and let her shoulders droop again. In a while, later today, she’d give him a call. Ask him to come back over. They’d talk about it, about…
Well, she wasn’t sure exactly what yet. She was on overwhelm right at the moment.
She got up and went back to the bedroom. She climbed into the bed and pulled the sheet over herself and told herself she’d feel better about everything in a little while.
The ringing of the phone woke her. She almost let her service get it, but then realized it might be Finn.
She fumbled on the nightstand and brought it to her ear. ‘‘Yeah? Hello.’’
‘‘Liv, are you sleeping?’’ It was Ingrid, in a thoroughly accusatory mood. ‘‘You sound like you’re sleeping.’’
Liv scrambled to a sitting position and raked her hair back out of her eyes. ‘‘Mother, what’s the—’’
‘‘Finn has gone back to Gullandria. He simply packed his bags and left.’’
Chapter Twelve
‘‘I don’t understand it,’’ Ingrid cried. ‘‘Did you have a fight, is that it?’’
Liv was having a little trouble absorbing this. ‘‘Mom. Wait. Tell me what happened. What did he say?’’
‘‘I really thought the two of you were getting along so well. I thought—’’
‘‘We were. We are.’’
‘‘Well then, what went wrong?’’
‘‘Look. Will you please just tell me what happened?’’
‘‘Well, he came in. He went upstairs. About twenty minute later, he came through the kitchen loaded down with all his bags. He thanked me for my hospitality. He said it was time he went back where he belonged.’’
Liv just didn’t get it. It all seemed unreal, the way he’d walked out on her earlier. And now this, taking off for Gullandria without even saying goodbye to her.
Ingrid continued. ‘‘I followed him out to his car, under the pretext of seeing him off. I asked if there was a problem, something wrong between the two of you….’’
Liv gulped. ‘‘And?’’
‘‘He told me not to worry. That everything was fine. And then he thanked me again and said he had to leave.’’ Ingrid made a small sound of distress. ‘‘Darling, please. You can tell me. Did you have a fight?’’
‘‘No. We didn’t. Honestly.’’
‘‘But then what could be wrong?’’
Liv didn’t know. And if her mother kept grilling her, she was going to scream. ‘‘Mom. I can’t…talk about it right now. I have to go.’’
‘‘Are you all right?’’
‘‘Fine. Really. I just have to go.’’
After another volley of frantic protests and pleading questions, Ingrid finally gave up and said goodbye.
Liv turned off the phone and yanked the sheet over her head. She’d go to sleep. She’d sleep all day and right through into the next night. As long as she was sleeping, she wouldn’t have to think about what the heck she ought to do next.
But sleep played its usual tricks. Naturally, since she longed for it so much, it refused to come.
After an hour or so of staring at the underside of the sheet, she got up and made breakfast. She sat at the table in the kitchen alone and wished Finn was there. She missed him already. She also wanted a chance to yell at him for walking out on her like this.
And wasn’t that just like a player? The going gets tough and the player gets lost.
Maybe she should have given him a real reason to run. When he asked her to marry him that last time, in the bathroom this morning, she should have looked him square in the eye and said yes.
But of course, she couldn’t.
A marriage between them was never going to work. She had her education to finish here in America, and after that, years and years worth of important goals to accomplish. And he had his castle, his troublesome sister, his long-suffering grandfather and his legions of feminine admirers in Gullandria. And never the twain shall meet, as they say.
He was a gorgeous hunk of man and she would miss him.
But maybe it was for the best that he was gone. She needed to start getting used to the idea that he wouldn’t be around forever, that he wasn’t the kind of man she could count on. And now, with a baby to think of, on top of all the rest of it, a man she could count on was the only kind she had any business getting near. Liv rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher and went upstairs to take a shower.
A few hours later, she called her mother and explained that yes, even she believed she was pregnant now. And she wanted Ingrid to accept the fact that she wasn’t, under any circumstances, going to be marrying Finn. Finn had said it himself: he’d gone back to where he belonged. She wished him well.
And now she planned to get on with her life.
Finn flew to Gullandria in His Majesty’s Gulfstream.
The jet had been right there, waiting, at Executive Airport, during the entire two weeks Finn had spent in America. The king had ordered it to remain on standby in anticipation of the happy moment when Finn would bring his bride back home.
Instead, he boarded alone. Within an hour they were cleared for takeoff.
It was 3:20 a.m. when they touched down in a cool, misty Gullandrian semidarkness.
Finn was getting off the plane when Hauk Wyborn stepped up to him. ‘‘His Majesty would speak with you, Prince Danelaw. This way.’’
It was not a good sign when the king’s warrior appeared to escort a man to the king. But Finn didn’t object. His objections wouldn’t change a thing and a meeting with the king—destined, no doubt, to be unpleasant—was inevitable, in any case.
The black car was waiting. Finn ducked into it and Hauk slid in behind him.
Hauk spoke to the driver and they were off, rolling across the tarmac toward the road. Through the tinted windows, Finn spotted the knot of reporters not far from the gate that led to the terminal. How sad for them. Up so early on the scent of a story, and Hauk had herded him into the car before they got a chance to snap their pictures and shout the usual thoroughly intrusive questions.
Finn turned to the giant warrior beside him. ‘‘You look well, Hauk. I’d say marriage agrees with you.’’
Hauk
