the winning touchdown for the home team. And then later, he sits out on the front porch in the swing with his girl—a front porch very much like this one, a swing no different than the one we’re sitting in now. And he prepares to score in another deeper, more intimate way.’’
‘‘Which movie, specifically, are we talking about here?’’
‘‘Wait.’’ He put up his right hand. ‘‘Look over there.’’ He pointed toward the rosebush twining over the thick stone porch rail. She strained to see, and his other arm settled across her shoulder.
She turned to him again. ‘‘Smooth.’’
He pulled her closer. ‘‘I’ll wager you know what comes next.’’
She breathed in the scent of him. So tempting.
Oh, what could be the harm in a kiss?
Or two.
She whispered, ‘‘Show me.’’ The swing moved gently back and forth, back and forth. Liv tipped her head up, offering her mouth.
He wasted no time in taking it.
They sat on that swing for over an hour, swaying and kissing, whispering together. He said he’d never gone to a school until he was a young man and attended University at Oslo. ‘‘I lived at Balmarran. There were tutors, excellent ones.’’
‘‘How old were you, when your mother died?’’
‘‘Twelve.’’
‘‘And thirteen, when you lost your father?’’
He made a noise in the affirmative.
‘‘Tough times, huh?’’
‘‘Don’t forget. I had my baby sister to keep me company. Wretched child. She cried for two years without stopping, or at least, it seemed that way to me.’’
‘‘You adore her.’’
‘‘I never said that.’’
‘‘You didn’t have to. I can tell by your voice when you talk about her.’’
‘‘My grandfather is still strong and healthy at seventy-eight. But Eveline will drive him to his grave. Of late, since her attraction to the groundskeeper’s boy began to pall, she speaks of running off to the wilds beyond the Black Mountains, to become a kvina soldar.’’
‘‘Kvina soldar? Woman warrior, right?’’
‘‘Very good. I’ll make a Gullandrian of you yet.’’
‘‘Never. I’m American to the core.’’
‘‘We’ll see about that.’’
‘‘I can hardly be governor of California if I’m living in Gullandria.’’
‘‘Ah. You’re willing to discuss where we’re going to live.’’
‘‘What’s to discuss? I’ll live here. You’ll live there.’’
‘‘Hardly my idea of a marriage.’’
‘‘But Finn, I’m not going to—’’
‘‘Shh.’’ He laid a finger against her mouth. And then that finger lightly brushed over her cheek and into her hair. He cupped the back of her head, brought his lips so close to hers…
How could she resist? She gave him her mouth and he gave her another of those lovely, deep, wet, lingering kisses. The swing softly swayed. The crickets sang in the grass.
Sometime later, she rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, ‘‘When my sisters and I were little, on nights like this, we’d take our sleeping bags out to the backyard, roll them out on the grass and spend the night under the stars. We’d pick out the constellations and tell each other scary stories. Even at the age of seven or eight, Brit could tell a scary story with the best of them. More than once, she had me so terrified I would have given just about anything to wiggle out of my sleeping bag and run for the safety of the house.’’
He nuzzled a kiss into her hair. ‘‘But of course, you couldn’t.’’
She pulled back a fraction so she could look at him. ‘‘How did you know that?’’
‘‘You would want no one—not even your sisters—to see your fear. They might think you weak. You despise weakness in yourself, though I’d guess you would be willing to tolerate it, to an extent anyway, in those that you love.’’
He had it exactly right. She smiled at him through the darkness. Then, with a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder once more.
‘‘I have to go in,’’ she said a long time later.
He caught her chin, guided it up and brushed another kiss across her mouth. ‘‘I’ll come in with you….’’
‘‘It’s tempting. Very tempting.’’
‘‘So why resist?’’
A few hours ago, she would have had an instant answer to that one. Now she was finding herself perilously close to agreeing with him.
They were both adults, both—since she had said goodbye to poor Simon—unencumbered by other commitments. And they wouldn’t be doing anything they hadn’t done before.
But she whispered, ‘‘No,’’ anyway. Tenderly. With regret.
* * *
The next day, as Finn sat in the office room at Ingrid’s house, checking his stocks and speaking with a London broker he often used, the other line blinked red.
He looked at the display and recognized the number. ‘‘I’ll ring you back,’’ he said to the broker. He punched the second line. ‘‘Your Majesty. I am honored.’’
‘‘How goes it?’’
Finn sat back in his chair and stared, unseeing, at the columns of figures on his computer screen. He thought of the night before, of all the lingering, maddening kisses. Of how, in the end, Liv had sent him away. ‘‘She’s an amazing woman, your daughter.’’
The king grunted. ‘‘She has yet to say yes.’’
‘‘That’s correct.’’
‘‘The World Tattler says otherwise.’’
Finn chuckled. ‘‘Sadly, the Tattler’s sources are often untrustworthy.’’
‘‘My sources tell me my daughter is…softening.’’
‘‘Softening.’’ Finn pondered the word. ‘‘Yes, sire. I think I can safely claim that to be so.’’
‘‘We
