The Wild Heir(65)

I close my eyes and let my head tilt back against the couch, reliving that moment. The way his mouth moved with hunger, the feel of his erection pressing against my hip, hard as a rock. “It was good,” I say softly.

“Then why the hell are you ignoring him? You should be snogging every chance you get! And then some.”

I look at her with a sigh. “Because. I don’t want that to cloud my judgement.”

“Ella!” she exclaims. “It should cloud your judgement! And it’s not bloody clouding it, it’s illuminating it. Ella, if you want him, then marry him.”

“I still don’t love him. I would be marrying for all the wrong reasons. What if all we have is a marriage full of sex and nothing else?”

Jeez, does she ever look disgruntled. “Do you know how many women, myself included, would kill for a marriage full of sex? Good lord. You’ve gone batty.”

“I want love,” I tell her. “What if I never feel that way for him. What if…” And, I know this is the bigger fear, “what if I do feel that way for him and he never does for me?”

Jane tilts her head sympathetically. “No one has the answers. Even those who fall in love and marry for the right reasons. People fall out of love, grow apart. There are no guarantees, no matter how you go into it.”

“But at least they’re doing it for the right reasons. Starting off on the right foot.”

“Are you marrying for the right reasons? No. Maybe not. But you do have your reasons, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now, reading on the couch of what could be your potential home.”

I hadn’t even thought about making this place my home, but since I would write that into the list of demands, I guess it’s possible.

She goes on, her voice quiet now. “If you say yes, you have your reasons and you know what they are already.”

Originally, my biggest reasons have fallen to the wayside.

Having power and a voice.

Having the ability to make a huge difference in the world.

Having respect of people.

The admiration of my father.

The biggest reason for me to say yes is the simplest one: hope.

I don’t know what lies ahead in my future, but I do know which future gives me the greatest shot at hope.

And that’s being with Magnus.

There’s a world of hope hidden in my heart for him.

My phone rings, jolting me out of my thoughts.

I quickly reach over to the coffee table and pick it up, glancing at the screen.

“Your father?” Jane asks.

My heart sinks. My father hasn’t called once while I’ve been here.

Instead, I think this might be the Queen. A private number out of Oslo.

I shake my head and answer it. “Hello?”

“Ella, dear.” Yup. Magnus’s mother.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Please, you know it’s Else.”

“Did you want to talk to Magnus?” I ask, not knowing how she got this number and not wanting to talk to her on the phone.

“That’s quite all right,” she says. “I just wanted a word with you.”

Oh god.

“I wanted to see how things were progressing.”

Oh god.

“You know we’ll be coming by tomorrow with the lawyers and the contracts to go over your final decision.”

Oh god.

“Oh, yes. I thought for some reason we would be going to the palace,” I tell her.

“It’s too risky for that. Someone might see you. The press hasn’t been able to locate Magnus lately and it’s put them on edge.”

I cringe thinking about the fact that I went to the bar and the cabin and she has no idea.

“Tell Magnus that we’ll be by before noon tomorrow. If the cooks can put something together for the King and I, it would be much appreciated. We’ll probably be famished after all the celebrating.”

Oh. God.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Goodbye.”

I hang up, not caring if that’s the proper way to end the phone call with the Queen or not. My god did she ever sound confident about my answer.

“That bad, huh?” Jane asks.

I give her a miserable look. “She thinks I’m going to say yes.”

“And are you?”

I sigh, getting to my feet. “I’m going to go have a nap. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“You better learn to deal with it, then,” Jane says. “Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

I head to my room, close the door, and promptly flop down on the bed. I just want a few moments of clarity. Time to breathe. I don’t even want to think because my brain feels so overloaded.

And apparently, it’s so overloaded that within seconds, the room goes black and I drift away into a blissful sleep.

Only to awake again when I hear “Ella” being whispered from someplace above me.

I open my eyes. The room is dark, except for the lights outside which stream in faintly through the far windows. It has to be at least dinnertime. And then I notice the figure hovering over me, the glint of the lights shining in his eyes.

I take in a sharp breath, but I’m not afraid.