When everything’s dead, just like my heart.
My feet carry me to the library. Embers are dying in the fireplace, and the room is starting to cool down. The door to the archives is closed, and I wonder what time Rowan went to bed. Is she sleeping soundly right now? Dreaming of glass houses and turrets and new designs? Maybe even dreaming of me?
Or, is she like me—awake. Troubled. Wondering who to trust.
I step farther into the library, making my way to the comfortable sofas in the deepest part of the room. My eyebrows jump.
Rowan didn’t go to bed at all. She’s curled up in a little ball on the sofa, with books strewn across the floor and a thick blanket piled over her sleeping form.
Her lips are parted, eyes closed, breath steady. She looks innocent and angelic, her pale skin against the dark fabric of the sofa. Long hair like spun copper strands splayed out around her head in a halo.
My heart hasn’t clenched like this in years. Truth be told, I haven’t even felt my heart beating since Abby died. I’ve been living in a dream. But now…something inside me is waking up. Everything is coming into sharp focus—mostly Rowan.
When I take a step toward her, she stirs. Her eyes flutter open and a frown pulls her brows together. Blinking two or three times, she looks at me. “What are you doing here?” Her voice is muffled and sleepy. It tugs at something deep in my chest.
“Came looking for you,” I answer truthfully.
She tucks her legs in closer to her body, and I sit down where her feet used to be. The residual heat of her body still warms the cushions, and I lean back, staring at the black sky outside.
“You have a boyfriend,” I say.
“Had,” she answers, straightening up and combing her delicate fingers through her long hair. “Past tense.”
“You broke up?”
“Why do you care?”
“Humor me.”
Rowan stares at me for a long moment, then lets out a breath. “He told me it was him or the job. The company I’ve spent more than half a decade building.” With a bitter snort, she shakes her head. “And, well, I’m here, aren’t I? But judging by your comments, maybe I shouldn’t have chosen work, after all.”
“You’ve been with him for a while,” I say. “You gave up that relationship for one contract?”
Rowan’s eyes narrow. “You seem to know a lot about me and my relationships.”
“Plural?” My eyebrow arches.
Rowan huffs, and I hide a smile. She pushes her hair over her shoulder and stares out the window. The storm is hitting us hard now, throwing its weight against the palace walls. Snow climbs up the bottom of the windows as the wind pushes it against the building.
Finally, Rowan glances at me. “Yes, I chose the contract. I’m an architect, Your Highness. This is my dream. How could I pass up an opportunity to design a royal residence?” She snorts. “Even if it is in the middle of nowhere.”
“You don’t like it up here.”
“Can you blame me?” Rowan sweeps her hand toward the window. The storm rages in response. “This place is about as hospitable as the bottom of the ocean.”
“How can you think to redesign this castle if you don’t understand the landscape?” There’s an edge to my voice. Why do I care? Why do I want her to see the beauty of this place? Why do I want her to like it here?
Rowan swings her eyes to meet mine. She drops her gaze, letting out a long breath. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I spent the evening reading about Nord and the history of the Summer Palace. I had no idea about any of it before I started working on the design.” She bites her lip. “I should have done more research. Grandma told me stories and I knew the broad strokes of the history, but there’s so much I didn’t realize.”
“My ancestors united dozens of small villages and tribes that lived in this area,” I say. “I think what my sister meant, when she said she wanted to retain the historic details of this castle, is that she wants to honor all the people who have come together to create Nord. There’s been…unrest in Nord lately. My sister needs unity.”
Rowan doesn’t understand that. She doesn’t understand that changing this palace into a destination, as she called it earlier, won’t honor the fractured relationships and century-long resentments that have festered within certain groups. She doesn’t see this palace as a symbol of the kingdom’s harmony.
But as Rowan reaches for a book, flipping to a bookmark, her smile makes me still. She shows me an image of the visitor’s cottage how it was when it was first built. A true palace, where court was held and relationships were formed. Nord was born in that cottage, centuries ago.
“I’d like to restore the visitor’s cottage, too. I was thinking we could commission artwork from every tribe and village that came together there. We could engage local artists. Celebrate the history of each individual community.” Her eyes lift to mine, deep blue hitting me like a lightning bolt to the chest.
Maybe she’s not clueless.
I nod. “You’re learning.”
Rowan gives me a soft smile. “I should have come up here as soon as I got the contract.”
“Yes.” I hold her gaze. “You should have.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. I stifle a groan. She blinks, taking a deep breath. “I understand your comments about my design. I’m starting over from scratch.”
I rest my hand on top of the blanket, feeling her ankle beneath it. Why does it feel so comfortable being here beside her? Why does my heart beat easier when she’s near?
Eyvar says I shouldn’t get too close to her, but here, in the silence of the night, it’s easy to forget his words.
Rowan looks away from me, her cheeks turning pink. “I heard about your fiancée. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
Her gaze finds mine as silence stretches between us. In the darkness of the library, it feels intimate. More intimate than I’ve felt in a long time.
“Is that why you’re here? To get away?”
I stare at the howling storm outside before answering. “The memorials and vigils remind me of everything I lost. October has always been difficult.” As I turn my head to look at Rowan, though, my words feel empty. The sting of my emotions has lessened, and my loss doesn’t seem so painful anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s not a secret.” I shrug. My gaze drifts back to watch the storm, but every other sense is tuned into Rowan’s frequency. She shifts on the couch, letting out a long sigh. When I swing my gaze to meet hers, though, I see no pity in her eyes. Empathy, yes. Understanding.
But no pity.
It’s…refreshing. A lump forms in my throat and I glance away. Pushing myself up to my feet, I glance down at Rowan, who’s still curled on the couch. “You should go to your room. It gets cold in here without a fire burning.”
Then I walk away, feeling Rowan’s wide-eyed stare on my back.
10
Rowan
I drag myself up to my own bed, head reeling from my conversation with the Prince. He’s been doing research about me—he knew I had a boyfriend. Did he seem relieved when I said we broke up, or is that just my twisted imagination?
Distrust and dislike come off him in waves, yet he still ends up seeking me out. He was right about one thing, though. My design was all wrong. After just one day reading through old stories of Nord and seeing the way the storm battered the palace, I know my original ideas don’t work.
Now that I’m here, I understand the importance of this redesign. Not only for my career. Not for the royal family. For the whole kingdom. Updating this palace needs to represent the kingdom as a whole.
So how did I get the job?
I let out a breath, wishing Grandma were here. She’d make me feel at home. She’d remind me I have Nordish blood in my veins, and I belong to this place as much as
anyone else. She’d tell me about my mother’s childhood, and how she came to work at the palace.
But she’s up in a hospital bed, and I’m here, alone. Needing to navigate my complicated relationship with the Prince and figure out where I went wrong with my design.
Tomorrow. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
But I hear the creak of my hinges and sit up in bed to see a big, furry creature padding toward the bed. Letting out a sigh, I smile. “Hey, Chief.”
The dog hops up on the bed and curls up next to me. Finally, I can sleep.
I don’t see the Prince for over a week. The storm rages around us, but I stay warm and fed inside. I spend a lot of time in the archives, inhaling every scrap of information about the palace and the royal family. In the evenings, I return to the library, half-hoping the Prince will be there waiting for me.
He isn’t.
Disappointment tastes bitter, but I try to push it down. Vikki keeps me company, finding me when her day of work is done and telling me about all the gossip about the castle.
One evening, we sit curled in one of the smaller living rooms, watching a big fire burn in the hearth. “I haven’t seen the Prince in days,” I say.
Vikki glances at me, sipping a warm mug of tea. “He keeps to himself.”
“Will he stay here all winter?”
“I doubt it,” Vikki says. “He’ll probably to go back to Stirling before the weather gets really bad.”
“Oh,” I answer, hope flaming in my gut. Why does that excite me? Is it because I’ve been thinking of staying in Stirling with Grandma until she’s healed?
“It makes me sad when he’s here,” Vikki says, glancing at me. “He’s so different now.”
“How so?”
“Colder. Doesn’t laugh anymore.”
“I can’t imagine him being very jolly before.”
Vikki chuckles, throwing me a glance. “You’d be surprised. When”—she drops her voice, glancing over her shoulder—“when his fiancée was alive, he was really happy. Always had a smile on his face. Wouldn’t leave her side.”
My shoulders drop as my chest squeezes. I’ve judged the Prince so harshly. Thought of him as a spoiled, arrogant ass—but what if he’s just hurting?
Pinching my lips together, I push my sympathy down. We’ve all been through shit. We’ve all lost people we loved and had our lives change as a result. I know I have. Just because the Prince has been through something similar doesn’t give him the right to be rude.
But I think of those moments I had alone with him, and I wonder who the Prince really is. Why doesn’t he trust me? Why did he seek me out, then leave me alone for over a week? He’s hot and cold. Trusting and suspicious. Rude and kind. He’s one big contradiction, and I just want to figure him out.
Vikki sits up. “I have an early start tomorrow. They say the storm should clear overnight, so we might get out of this place come morning. Maybe we can go see the visitor’s cottage in the afternoon.”
“Sounds nice.” I smile. “Good night.”
Vikki takes my empty mug as well as her own down to the kitchens, and I stay by the fire until the embers glow red and the night is black outside. Then, I peel myself off the couch and make my way upstairs.
If the storm clears, that means I can leave. I can go see Grandma. I have enough information to put together an updated design.
But do I want to go without seeing the Prince at least one more time?
My new iteration of the palace renovation is coming along nicely, but my eyes are turning square. I’ve been looking at my screen too much. When I glance out the office window at the clear blue sky outside, I save my work and turn off the computer. I need to get out of here. I’ve been at the palace two weeks now, all of which have been spent holed up inside waiting for the storm to clear.
Reading my mind, Vikki pokes her head in the office. “Just finished the lunch service. You ready to go see the visitor’s cottage?”
I smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”
”Come on. I’ll show you.”
“I, uh.” I clear my throat. “I don’t have appropriate clothing for that weather.” I bite my lip, remembering my unfortunate arrival at the palace. I’ve been warm and safe inside, but no matter how blue the sky is, I know it’s freezing out there.
Vikki’s smile beams. “We brought some up to your room earlier. I’ll help you get dressed, and then we’ll head to the kennels to take the dogs.”
“The dogs?”
Vikki laughs, as if my question delights her. “Yeah, the dogs. You’ve never been dog sledding?”
My eyes widen. “No. We can’t take the dogs… Can we?”
“It’s either that or a snowmobile, but Mrs. Reed told me I wasn’t allowed to take the snowmobiles out anymore. I crashed one last winter and almost killed myself.” Vikki laughs again, a melodic sound that lights up her whole face. As if crashing a snowmobile is funny. As if almost dying is something to laugh at.
But that’s Vikki. Completely in her element. At home.
Unlike me. I wish it didn’t bother me that I’m such an outsider. I should just treat this as a working holiday. A chance to see a foreign land…
…but my heart clenches, and I know I feel some sort of connection to this place. Deep down, I know I belong here, but I’m still a foreigner. It’s hard to reconcile those feelings.
I shoot Vikki a sideways glance. “I almost died when I got here and I’m not quite as jolly about it as you are.”
“You’ll learn,” Vikki replies, hooking her arm into mine. She leads me through a back staircase up to my room, opening the door and leading me to the closet. “Coats, pants, boots. Your grandmother made sure we had it all ready for you.” Vikki bites her lip. “I’m sorry about your arrival, Rowan. I don’t know if I ever said it. We all feel really terrible about leaving you at the station. It was just with everything with Mrs. Reed and the Prince arriving…”
“I get it.” I nod. “No hard feelings. At least I got to meet the Prince.” I roll my eyes, and Vikki giggles. She hands me the bright red jacket. It’s big and puffy with a fur trim around the hood, and it looks warm. Much better than my favorite peacoat.
It’s…appropriate. Like it belongs in Nord.
I squeeze the puffy jacket and smile. “My grandmother picked this.”
“How did you know?”
“The color. She knows I love red. I’ve had red jackets since I was a little kid. My first rain jacket was red with matching red boots.” I smile, running my fingers over the fur trim. My grandmother might not be here, but her influence is everywhere. I miss her. She’d know how to handle the Prince, and she’d make sure I felt comfortable in the castle. She’d remind everyone that I’m her granddaughter, and I’m a child of Nord—even though I feel like a stranger here.
Vikki helps me get dressed for the cold, handing me a thick hat and gloves before leading me back downstairs. We stop off at the staff quarters to grab her things, and then make our way to the kennels.
Vikki pushes the door open. “Har-vey!” she calls out in a sing-song voice. “Can we take the dogs out? Rowan wants to see the visitor’s cottage, and I am sick of being inside.” She stops dead in her tracks, dropping into a quick curtsy. I bump into her, causing her to stumble. She catches herself, yelping, her face so red it’s nearly glowing.
At the other end of the kennels, standing tall with Chief at his feet, is the Prince of Nord himself, looking at home among the dogs. Feral and beastly and every bit a monarch in this wild, unforgiving place.
I square my shoulders. “Your Highness.” I give him a quick nod. I’m not sure where we stand. Last I spoke to him, he seemed to be warming up to me. I thought we were making progress.
Then he ignored me for the better part of two weeks.
The Prince smirks, eyes flashing. Ah, so he’s back to being arrogant. Lovely. He combs his fingers through his hair, letting his eyes drift down my body and back up again. “Miss Reed.” He looks at Vikki, then giv
es her a wave of dismissal. “I’m taking the dogs out. I’ll take Miss Reed to the visitor’s cottage.”
“That’s okay,” I say, shaking my head. “We can go later.”
Vikki’s eyes widen as she gives me a loaded stare. I guess people don’t usually talk back to the big bad Wolfe.
The Prince’s lips pinch. “I insist.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Vikki curtsies and shuffles out the door.
“Vikki,” I hiss, staring after her. She arches her brows and shrugs as if to say sorry, but doesn’t slow her exit. Traitor.
I lift my eyes to the Prince’s, who’s still wearing that insolent smirk. He jerks his chin at my new clothing. “I see you’ve learned from past mistakes.”
“Are you disappointed you won’t get to undress me this time?”
“Never say never.” His eyes flash and heat rips through my core. Damn him and his amber eyes. Damn his sexy smirk. Damn his broad body that looks like it would feel a bit too good pressed on top of mine.
And most of all, damn my own body for betraying me. This man is hot and cold. He tortures me with his presence, then teases me with his absence. He’s here to hide away from tough memories and using me as a punching bag for his emotional immaturity.
A coward, and an arrogant one at that. Winning combination.
I definitely shouldn’t be feeling hot and bothered by him. My nipples shouldn’t be tightening to stiff peaks beneath the multitude of layers I’m wearing. My underwear shouldn’t be clinging to the space between my legs, already damp with arousal.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I pinch my lips together, taking a step forward. Chief lifts his head, trotting over to nuzzle against me. I kneel down, scratching the fur behind his ears. “At least you’ll be coming with us, Chief. I like your company.”
The dog huffs, nudging my legs with his snout. I glance up to see the Prince staring at the two of us, half-insulted, half-amused.
I stand, nodding. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
Lone Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 7) Page 7