by Kris Tualla
Nicolas laid his rifle on the table and slid bladed hands under her arms. He lifted her to her feet and guided her to a chair. “Are you certain? You aren’t hit anywhere?”
“I’ve been shot before, and I’d know if I was shot again!” she snapped, her voice much less commanding than completely unnerved. “There’s a hole in your shirt.”
He looked down and stuck his finger through the opening. “In the front and out the back. That was close.” He turned his attention to Edward as Addie appeared in the doorway.
“N-n-nicky?” she warbled. Her face blanched to the color of her ever-present apron.
“We’re fine, Addie.”
He crossed the room and knelt by the imposter. “Do you have any last words?”
Edward’s skin was rapidly losing color. Blood frothed pink and airy from his lips but stained his waistcoat burgundy around the ragged hole.
“Tell… Rodger…”
Rodger?
With a blast of nauseating recognition, Nicolas realized this was the actor from St. Louis. Dark Skinny’s other lover. Skinny—Rodger—must have concocted this whole extortion scheme after Nick banished Kilbourne from the Territory. Retribution, it appeared, for exposing Rodger’s duplicity.
Apparently Macken wasn’t the jealous type. Just the greedy type.
Nicolas turned a stunned gaze to Sydney. By the set of her features, she realized all this as well.
“Tell him what?” Nicolas managed.
He turned back to Edward, but the man was gone.
Chapter Forty One
April 1, 1820
One year had passed since Sydney tumbled onto Nicolas’s land and into his life. In his study after supper, as if in commemoration, he held a parcel between them. She saw that it was rather battered. It must have come a long way.
“What’s that?” she asked. Even the arrest warrant was less official-looking than this.
“I’m not certain. I wanted you with me when I opened it.” Nicolas hefted it in his hand. “If heaviness signifies importance, we have a packet of some magnitude here.”
She gripped her wine glass tightly; the liquid inside rippled. “Are you expecting anything?”
“No.”
Something in his expression made her ask, “Are you afraid of something?”
His brow dipped. “No…” That sounded less certain.
Sydney pulled a bracing breath. “Waiting won’t alter it.”
Nicolas gulped his brandy, and then untied the twine. The soft leather unfolded to reveal a stack of thick parchment scribed in black ink. Some had multiple signatures. And all were in a language unfamiliar to Sydney.
It was the gilded wax seal displaying a castle that caused her gooseflesh. “Can you read it?”
“Ja, jeg kan lese Norse.”
Sydney saw his hands begin to tremble as he read the documents. “What is it?”
“It’s a summons.”
“For whom?”
“Me.”
“You? Who’s summoning you?”
“The royal family in Norway.”
Sydney sat back in her chair, incredulous. Her inflection carried her blatant disbelief. “The royal family of Norway has summoned you.”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
Nicolas shifted in his chair. He shuffled through the papers, then downed his brandy. He stood and jerked his fingers through his hair. He put his hands on his hips and looked at Sydney. He looked away. He looked back again.
“There’s something about my family that I, perhaps, forgot to tell you.”
His words punched her in the chest. Sydney didn’t know if she would laugh or cry. What now?
Nicolas screwed up his face. “It concerns my heritage.”
There were those words again: his ‘heritage.’
Sydney set her glass down and stood. She spoke with more assuredness than she felt. “Nicolas, whatever it is, we’ll face it together. I love you and I’ll stand by you. You’re sensible of that, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
She took his huge, calloused hands in hers. “Tell me.”
He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed the back of one, then the other. His worried blue eyes pinned hers. “Sydney?”
“Yes, Nicolas?”
“It seems—well, I was already aware, of course—I simply never mentioned to you, specifically—that I, uh…”
Sydney held her breath at his heart-pounding pause.
“I’m a prince. ”
Following is an excerpt from:
A Prince
of Norway
by Kris Tualla
Coming in November 2010
Cheltenham, Missouri Territory
April 1, 1820
“You’re a what?” Sydney blurted.
Nicolas Hansen’s wife of fourth months gaped at him and her dark brows plunged dangerously. He stroked a forefinger across his lip, calluses rasping his stubble.
“A prince.”
Nicolas lowered himself onto the leather ottoman in the event his feisty spouse’s shocked response involved impromptu fists. His gaze flickered around his dark, mannish study, and landed back on her.
“It’s on my mother’s side. Her grandfather was King Christian the sixth of Norway.” He cleared his throat. “And of Denmark.”
Sydney’s expansive gray-green eyes did not leave his, though her hand flailed to the side in search of a seat. Nicolas shoved his favorite leather chair toward her with his foot.
She submerged between the worn, over-stuffed arms as if she hoped their bulk could block out the bizarre reality he had just doused her with. “So those portraits in the stairwell…”
“…look royal for a reason,” Nicolas finished the sentence.
Her stunned expression had not altered. “Skitt.”
Nicolas laughed at her imitation of his scatological Norse.
Sydney—decidedly not laughing—pressed palms against her violently flushed cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“To be truthful, I forgot. It’s not as though we live in Norway.” Nicolas scuttled his fingers through his hair and shrugged. If he acted unconcerned, perhaps she would take his next words well.
“Nor am I in any danger of becoming king, I don’t believe.”
“You don’t believe?” she shouted. Her dilated pupils obliterated any trace of color in her eyes. “Nicolas! You’re an American!”
As if he was unaware.
He dragged his gaze away from hers and hefted the package of letters which—after an eighteen month, multi-continental sojourn—arrived at his estate that day. The missives very strongly demanded his immediate appearance at the royal court in Christiania, Norway or he would suffer the penalties of his disobedience.
“Nicolas?” she squeaked. Her cheeks hollowed and lost their bloom. “What is this all about?”
He exhaled, resigned. There was no point in trying to delay the telling. It would only anger her and postpone his preparations for departure. He fixed his gaze on hers and arranged his features in a deliberately calm set.
“Norway has been under the control of Sweden since 1814, after Denmark’s unfortunate decision to side with Napoleon. So the royal family has decided to pull together their various members and test the viability of regaining the country.”
“And choose a king of their own?” It was an accusation more than a question. Sydney looked desperate as a drowning cat in spite of his attempt to downplay the summons. She leaned back—and away from him. “Is there any wine?”
Nicolas pushed up from his perch and poured her a glass. Her hand trembled as she reached for the crystal goblet. He knelt beside her chair while she gulped the burgundy liquid in a very un-ladylike manner. He stroked his fingers through her straight, dark hair; that action usually soothed her mood.
“Don’t worry, min presang.” Nicolas had called her my gift since the day he confessed he loved her. He kissed her temple and inhaled the warm, rosy scent of her. “Other than my trip to
Norway and back, nothing about our lives will change.”
Sydney wagged her head and fixed her gray-green eyes on his. Mossy pewter shards pierced his fantasy and it shattered with irrevocable finality.
“I love you, Nicolas. You are sensible of that. But you are so very, very wrong.”
A Prince
of Norway
The Hansen Series:
Nicolas & Sydney
Book Two
November 2010
A Matter
of Principle
The Hansen Series:
Nicolas & Sydney
Book Three
January 2011
A Primer for Beginning Authors
What you don't know that you don't know.
Available now!
Kris Tualla is pursuing her dream of becoming a multi-published author of historical fiction. She started in 2006 with nothing but a nugget of a character in mind and absolutely no idea where to go from there. She has created a dynasty -
The Hansen Series - with six novels currently
in line for publication.
For more information and release dates visit:
www.GoodnightPublishing.com
For inquiries about publication, contact:
[email protected]
Kris Tualla is an amusing, enthusiastic presenter and
available for workshops and speaking engagements.
Please contact her at any site listed below.
http://www.KrisTualla.com
http://kristualla.wordpress.com
http://www.facebook.com/KrisTualla
http://www.youtube.com/user/ktualla
http://twitter.com/ktualla
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