‘You’d better get used to it.’
Samuel grinned and shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t mind. His mother was happy, Dimitri was cool, and, by the number of brightly packaged gifts beneath the tree, Santa had rewarded him well.
What more could anyone want?
A Prince for Christmas
By Rebecca Winters
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
“ERIC? Will you forgive me for calling you this late?”
“Maren?”
Thirty-year-old Eric Thorvaldsen, fifth in line to the Frijian crown, a fact that pleased him no end because he was almost a hundred percent certain he’d never have to rule, jackknifed into a sitting position on the bed. The black Lab Thor lying at his feet lifted his head before putting it down again.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was four in the morning. “Have you made me an uncle?” This would be his sister’s first child.
“Not quite yet, brother dear. I had contractions and Stein took me to the hospital, but they finally stopped. Our baby’s going to be born prematurely no matter what. But the doctor is hoping I can last one more week, so he has ordered me to bed.”
“Four more days and it’s Christmas!”
“Wouldn’t it be something if my little baby were to have a birthday on the most wonderful day of the year?”
If that were the case, Eric already felt sorry for the baby who would be his nephew. He’d be cheated out of his own special birthday, one he shouldn’t have to share with a holiday, but Eric kept that thought to himself.
“It’ll be wonderful anytime.”
“I know. I can’t wait. Anyway, because I’ve been put on bed rest, I have a favor to ask of you. Please don’t say no before you hear what it is. This is really important!”
Everything was important to his compassionate sister who championed a dozen causes in the name of the homeless, the sick and aged, orphans, abused animals…. The list went on and on.
“I would have asked Knute or mom, but he’s out of the country attending that economic meeting in Hamburg and won’t be back for a few more days. Mother went with him to do some shopping. That leaves you.”
Since their father’s death from a fatal heart attack last year, their older brother Knute was now king. By Maren mentioning his name, it meant this favor had something official about it. “Official” was a word Eric shied away from—whenever it was possible.
“Eric? I can tell you’re cringing.”
He chuckled. “Am I that bad?”
“You’re worse! Seriously, this is so important I’ll have to risk the baby coming early and take care of it myself if you can’t.”
He blinked. “Well—you’ve put me in a position where I can hardly refuse now, can I,” he drawled.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
They were like twins, only a year apart with her being the elder. They were their parents’ second family.
Knute was seven years older. Thank heaven he didn’t know any better than to do his duty. With two sons who were being raised to succeed him if anything happened, followed by Maren and her soon-to-be-born-son who’d be third and fourth in line to the throne, Eric had been left free to pursue his work as an oceanographer.
“Do I have to come to the palace?” Thorsvik was only a half hour away from where he lived.
“No. You can stay right there in Brobak.”
“That’s a plus.”
When he wasn’t working in the city or attending oceanographic seminars around the world, he preferred to spend what little free time he had at his home in the little village south of the capitol. On a steep slope far away from other people, he could look down on the Oslo fjord and feel rejuvenated.
“I’ll ask someone from the palace to bring your ceremonial suit to you in the morning.”
Eric’s brows met in a frown. He hadn’t had to look official since a family photograph had been taken at the time Knute became king.
“This is something I have to do tomorrow?”
“Yes, but let me explain. A year ago the Chocolate Barn in the market square decided to expand their Christmas exports to include a hot chocolate mix.
“Instead of putting the traditional gnome on the packaging, they ran a contest to find the right little Frijian girl to display on the labeling around the can. They’re hoping she’ll become a recognizable icon throughout the world.
“A child in America, of Frijian descent won the contest. Her prize was a trip to Frijia before the Holidays with her family and—”
“And the highlight would be a special audience with Princess Maren, at the Chocolate Barn, where she’ll be given a year’s worth of chocolate treats to take home,” Eric broke in.
“Something like that,” she murmured. “They asked me to do this a year ago, and I agreed. She’ll be there at two o’clock to meet you.”
“Have you ever turned anyone down for anything?”
“I try not to if it’s for a worthy cause. The Chocolate Barn is going to donate part of the proceeds of this new product to my animal rescue charity.”
“Surely the owners and the girl’s family will understand when they find out you’re about to have a baby?”
“Of course they will. But we’re talking about a little girl here. A darling little five-or six-year-old who still believes in fairy princesses and castles and magic. No doubt she’s been waiting and waiting for tomorrow to come.”
He let out an exasperated sound between a laugh and a groan. “I’m hardly going to fill the bill, Maren.”
“You’re the genuine royal article, and you look like Prince Charming when you’re dressed as if you’re ready to attend a coronation. Her child’s heart will fall in love with you on the spot. She’ll forget all about wanting to meet me.
“The palace photographer will be there to take a picture of the two of you for a souvenir to be sent to her, then you can go enjoy your Holiday.”
“That’s good. I’m through with work until January and planned to fly to Kvitfjell tomorrow with Bea for a day of skiing before Christmas.”
“I’m glad. A certain source has told me she’s in love with you.”
“The press will say anything, Maren. We’ve had some good times together, but don’t read too much into it.”
“I’ve seen pictures of the two of you in the paper. She’s beautiful and I hear she’s very smart. You couldn’t go wrong with a woman like her.”
“You’re right.”
“Maybe when you get back, you’ll bring her to the palace to meet all of us?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Eric—” she cried in exasperation.
“If I’m in love with her by then, I’ll introduce you.”
His sister moaned in defeat.
“I don’t want to make a mistake, Maren.”
For several years now the paparazzi had labeled him Europe’s biggest playboy. It was a lie they continued to perpetuate in order to sell papers, but he refused to let it bother him.
There was a pause before she said, “I wouldn’t want you to do that. Make a mistake I mean.”
Eric could always count on his sister’s love.
Unlike Knute and Maren who’d married spouses of royal lineage in case either of them or their children had to rule, Eric could marry
a woman of his own choosing, even if she was a commoner. That was the agreement he’d worked out with his father before he’d passed away.
Oddly enough, being allowed to find his beloved in the same way any nonroyal could, had made Eric reluctant to jump into marriage. He preferred to get it right the first time and not end up divorced.
The other day his best friend Olav, who’d recently married, reminded him that marriage was for an awfully long time so he’d better be sure before he took the fatal step.
For once Eric hadn’t been able to tell if his oldest childhood buddy was teasing or not. Since that comment, Eric had the distinct impression Olav’s marriage was already in trouble.
It put the fear in Eric.
“Don’t worry about tomorrow. I’ll do my best to represent you. What you need to do is take care of yourself and that baby.”
“Thank you, Eric. You’re the greatest.”
No he wasn’t. Knute would have agreed to fill in for her without hesitation. Anything for the good of Frijia. Their brother was a noble soul. Eric admired and loved him.
In an attempt to assuage his guilt over his distaste for duty Eric said, “I’ll let you know how the day went before I leave on my ski trip.”
“I’d appreciate it. Promise me you won’t break a leg so the rest of the Holidays are ruined for you.”
“I’m hardly going to do that.”
“Even an expert skier like you can have an accident, Eric. Just be careful. You know how mother is looking forward to all of us being together on this particular Christmas.”
Eric was very much aware their mother was still grieving and needed her family around. Knute had been inspired to take her to Germany with him. Hopefully she hadn’t had time to brood. Thank goodness their sister would soon be giving her another grandson to dote on.
“Don’t worry. I’ll only be gone a couple of days. Make sure you do as the doctor tells you, Maren. Goodnight.”
“Hold still for a minute, sweetheart.”
A couple of bobby pins to secure the embroidered red cap in Sonia’s mass of shiny brown curls did the trick.
“There.” Kristin, born Kristin Remmen, gave her niece a kiss. She’d looked after her since the death of her beloved sister. “Now you’re ready.”
“Do you think the Princess is here yet, Aunty Kristin?” Sonia shifted from one leg to the other in excited anticipation of what was about to happen.
Kristin eyed her five-and-a-half-year-old niece whose sightless brown eyes shone like stars. She’d been so good, but the thought of meeting Princess Maren of the Frijian royal family had been all she could think about for the last month. It couldn’t come soon enough for Kristin.
“I don’t know. We’re supposed to wait in here until the owners send for us.”
The Severeids had given them the use of the employee’s lounge at the rear of the world famous Chocolate Barn to do any last minute preparations.
She and Sonia had gotten ready at the small, quaint hotel a block away from the barn. For the occasion Kristin had bought a cherry red wool coatdress with gold buttons that ran from hem to neck. The tailored look played down her curvaceous five foot five figure.
The appearance of Princess Maren meant one inevitable throng of photographers and television journalists. So, Kristin wanted to look her best and had swept back her honey blond hair in a French twist to reveal tiny gold earrings in the shape of jeweled Christmas ball ornaments.
The whole promotion had been tied in with Christmas and was to be the top human interest story for the evening news not only in Europe but all over the world.
“If your great-great-grandmother were alive to see you in the same clothes she brought over from Frijia for her little girl, she’d be so proud.”
According to Kristin’s family history, Anton Remmen, who’d worked on the family farm on the Varland Fjord, came to America in 1900 with his wife and their son and daughter Sonja, after whom little Sonia was named.
The red vest and black skirt reflected that region of the country they originated from, with the famous Varland lace on the white linen blouse and apron. In red stockings and black burnad shoes with silver buckles, Sonia looked the epitome of a traditional Frijian child.
Now Sonia’s picture adorned the label on the cans and packets of hot chocolate manufactured at the Chocolate Barn in Brobak.
Blessed with an engaging wide smile and dimples, many older people who remembered the famous Olympic ice skating champion Sonja Henie, remarked how much Sonia looked like her.
Kristin could see a superficial resemblance. Certainly there was a vivaciousness about her niece that captivated people.
The fact that she was so photogenic and adorable in her grandmother Sonja’s authentic outfit had prompted Mr. and Mrs. Severeid to pick Sonia’s picture from the hundreds that had been sent in from Frijia, Europe and America for the contest.
“Do you think Grandpa Elling will see me on TV?”
“He wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Kristin lowered her head. She felt a pang in her heart at the thought of her grieving father who’d been too sick with a bad flu bug to come on their three day trip to Brobak and the surrounding towns in Frijia.
If Sonia’s parents were still alive, they would have brought her here instead of Kristin. They would have been able to see everything and feel the thrill of being back in the beautiful country of their ancestors.
“Ms. Remmen?” At the sound of Mrs. Severeid’s voice, Kristin turned around. “Could I speak to you for a minute?” she asked in Frijian, a language Kristin spoke fluently and taught for the American-Frijian Cultural Exchange Institute in Chicago.
“Is the Princess here now?” Sonia said excitedly.
“Just a minute, sweetheart, and I’ll find out. Sit on this chair.”
Kristin left her squirming niece long enough to go to the door. “Yes?”
“There’s been a change in plans,” the older woman whispered. “We’ve just been told by someone from the royal palace that Princess Maren’s first child is due any day now and she’s been put on bed rest. Therefore her brother Prince Eric has come in her place.
“This is terribly exciting because he rarely makes public appearances. We’re very honored by his visit. I thought you should know about it to prepare your niece. I’ll signal you when it’s time to walk to the front of the store with her.”
“Thank you,” Kristin murmured, but her heart had dropped to her feet. Her anxious gaze darted to her niece who’d been counting on meeting the Princess ever since she’d heard she’d won the contest.
In truth, it was the only reason Kristin had brought her to Frijia. The precarious situation had to be handled with extreme delicacy.
She walked back and knelt down next to Sonia. “Sweetheart? Guess what I’ve just found out?”
“What?” Sonia asked breathlessly, almost falling off the chair she was so excited.
“Princess Maren is ready to have a baby.”
“A baby—” Sonia’s eyes widened. “You mean right here?”
“No, sweetheart. She’ll have it at the hospital, but for the moment she’s home in bed.”
“Is she sick?”
“No. But the doctor wants her to rest until the baby comes.”
“Are we going to the palace to see her then?”
Kristin hugged her, praying for some inspiration. “I’m afraid not, but she has sent someone else to meet you.”
Sonia’s lower lip started to tremble. Not a good sign.
“I don’t want to meet anybody else!”
“Not even her brother?”
“He’s not a princess—” she blurted in a tear-filled voice that could probably be heard beyond the confines of the back room.
Kristin moaned inwardly. “I know, sweetheart, but her brother is a prince and a very special person. His name is Prince Eric. He’s as famous as his sister.”
Except that infamous was probably more like it.
Over the years
Kristin had seen pictures of the handsome royal family on television and in magazines, as well as in the Cultural Exchange’s own newspaper. It was in one of their editions that the Chocolate Barn’s contest had been advertised with the promise of the winner being able to meet Princess Maren.
Her brother, Prince Eric, was even better looking than his elder brother who was now king. The eligible playboy prince appeared more often in the news than the rest of his family. He’d been linked with the great beauties of Europe, and was reputed to have broken many hearts.
“But I want to meet the Princess!” Sonia cried loud enough for everyone in the entire store to hear her.
“I know you do, but this can’t be helped. Remember how Grandpa Elling couldn’t come with us because he’s been sick? Well it’s the same thing with the Princess.”
“But she’s not sick. She just has to rest,” Sonia reasoned in her child’s mind before she broke down sobbing and clung to Kristin. “Please can’t we call the Princess on the phone?” she begged, totally out of control.
“If you tell her how much I want to meet her, she’ll let me come. I know she will.”
Tears streamed down her blotchy cheeks, panicking Kristin who hadn’t seen her niece like this since she’d awakened in the hospital to learn that her parents had gone to heaven.
“I p-promise not to make any n-noise or do a-anything wrong, Aunty Kristin. I’ll be s-so good. T-tell her I’ll be g-good.”
Sonia’s hysteria stemmed from a lot more than disappointment that she wouldn’t be meeting a real live princess. She was still too fragile after losing her mother and father.
Kristin was frantic because a member of the royal family along with television crews and photographers were waiting in the store for the appearance of the lucky little girl who’d won the Chocolate Barn’s contest.
12 Stocking Stuffers Page 94