Ryan then stepped around the officiator of the ceremony and mounted the marble steps, walking steadily toward the throne that all the Kings in the past had sat upon. With no hesitation, he spun around and faced his honored guests. Megan was pleased when his eyes rested on her and that boyish grin still played behind his eyes – almost as a secret signal. While holding her stare, he backed onto the throne and sat. King Ryannaus lifted the Sovereign’s Orb, which consisted of gold, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, and pearls for his subjects to see.
The congregation roared their approval “Long live the King.”
The entire day she observed with joy her King Charming conducting himself in his new role as leader of the country. Outside, every slope and hillside all the way to the village and for miles beyond, stood masses of supporters cheering. Goosebumps covered Megan’s body as she watched him walk onto the upper balcony wearing his ceremonial kingly cape and crown. He waved at the people and melodious chants filled the air demonstrating their heartwarming acceptance and love for King Ryannaus. All appeared well in the Kingdom of Edstrom.
But all was not well in Megan’s heart. It swelled with respect for the Prince who was now King but waned as she compared her lowly status in the presence of a room full of stately figures. Could she ever feel part of this entourage, even as his wife and Queen? And could she continue to work as a psychiatrist? Her career was important and she wondered if royalty had the power to snuff out her rescuer’s heart.
“What is that far-away look I see in your eyes, Miss Fairchild?” asked Lady Winslow. “Are you missing home?”
She gazed sideways at the woman, arrogant and beautiful, and although Francis Winslow had opened a conversation with Megan, her eyes remained pasted to the balcony where her new King, and what she’d always hoped, husband, stood addressing the crowds. This woman fit in – even a casual onlooker could see it immediately, and she wondered if Ryan could learn to love her.
Megan chose to ignore the question that hung in the air like lead concerning her feelings of homesickness. Lady Winslow’s only interest in that subject would be that Megan go home and never return to Edstrom.
“You must be proud of your new King. He is ready to take his place as leader and will do a splendid job,” Megan said instead.
“The Monarchy is not a job. It is a way of life, traditions and expectations as old as time itself.” She twisted and bored her eyes into Megan’s, diminishing her high-spirits with one easy sweep. “It really shows how ill-prepared you are to take your place beside him. Any woman in her right mind would flee when realizing the enormity of the role.”
“Except you, of course. I understand you’ve trained for the position your entire life,” said Megan attempting to keep her voice steady.
“I have, and am ready to take your place when your heart fails and you run to America with your tail between your legs – isn’t that a fitting description of how you feel right now?”
Megan felt violated and angry. She lifted her chin and spoke. “In the perfect world, love reins and that’s what marriages are built on – that’s Ryan’s choice to make.”
Francis Winslow glanced around and smiled at the eavesdroppers who’d heard Megan’s reference to Ryan. “King Ryannaus Julius Alexander Edstrom is his title in public. You’d do well to remember it.”
When the drinks passed by, Megan accepted one, not caring if it was non-alcoholic. The first sip told her it wasn’t, and she cringed from the bitter taste and her impulsiveness. Drunk had sounded good as she watched Lady Winslow make the rounds of debutantes and aristocrats. Suzanne and James had taken to the dance floor but Ryan appeared monopolized by duty. She stood alone, harboring a tragic heaviness of heart. She felt someone move in behind her and place a hand on her bare back. She turned to see the Queen mother smiling.
“I feel your awkwardness, my dear, and blame myself for it. We should have spent the time preparing you for this occasion and not ignoring the fact that my son loves you – for better or worse.” She emphasized the worse and it finally sunk into Megan’s thick skull that she’d not come close to winning his mother’s approval.
“Was there ever a moment you thought it might work between Ryan and me?” Megan asked.
“Never, my dear. But I don’t blame you. My son is easy to love and I can see why he is attracted to you. You are quite delightful; just not a good choice for Queen. Edstrom deserves the best that royalty can give them. Ryannaus will join the kings of the past and make the necessary sacrifice. Despite what you think, arranged marriages have served the monarchy well.”
The Queen mother looked toward the dance floor and Megan followed her gaze. Somehow Francis Winslow had stolen Ryan from his so-called-obligations and flirted openly with him on the dance floor. He appeared beguiled with her topic of discussion, and when he noticed his mother with Megan, offered a brief smile before returning his attention to his partner.
Megan felt like a second-rate citizen, then chuckled inwardly at the ridiculousness of that rating - she wasn’t even a citizen of this country and Ryan expected her to be Queen. How absurd! Besides Megan’s supposed escort had not asked her once for a dance and there he was on the floor twirling the woman everyone in the room suspected he’d choose as his wife. The wake-up call came loud and clear.
She focused on Ryan’s mother who beamed at the couple on the dance floor. “Could you have someone come for my bags in about thirty minutes and if its not too much trouble a car to the ferry?”
“No trouble at all. Safe travels. I’ll extend your regrets to the King at your unexpected departure before the New Year.”
Megan bit her lip and skirted around the woman who remained poised and haughty. She’d won – Ryan would be her puppet forever, until he transferred the power of the strings to the new puppeteer.
“Lady Winslow!” She spit the name into the air. “Good luck with her, King Ryannaus! May your life be filled with peace and joy.”
Megan hated herself for the cloud of bitterness that hung over her like impenetrable fog. Tears replaced the outbreak. Sliding off her high-heals she flung them in the corner and raced barefoot toward her room.
Up the winding staircase she stomped, her loud thumps echoing off the walls. Her mind ridiculed the foolish notions she’d entertained in imagining this insane union could possibly become reality. On the carpeted hallway leading to her room, Megan held her arms out front, and danced with her imaginary escort the steps she’d spent two evenings learning so as not to embarrass the new king when the couple went on display for his world to see. It was time to head home before she became the patient on her counseling couch instead of the therapist in charge.
Grabbing her suitcases, she flung clothes, makeup, jewelry, and her purchases in a heap and zipped up the mess. She glanced at the Tiara on the little tree but opted not to bring home any of that false hope. After stripping the borrowed garments from her body, she dressed in the traveling outfit she’d set apart and carefully laid the gown on the bed. Taking the string of pearls from her neck, she laid it across the top. She’d enjoyed dressing like a princess and vowed to take away every pleasant memory of this important historic event and the fact that she’d been privileged to witness it first-hand. Taking a piece of perfumed notepaper from the desk, she wrote a note to Suzanne to wish her well and one to Ryan with her apologies for running away. She licked the envelopes and leaned them against her vanity mirror.
When the knock came, Megan hurried to answer before she lost her nerve. A bellboy bowed slightly – she guessed he was ill informed of her drop in status – and came inside to get her bags. She followed him to the front entrance where the limo waited. Glancing back, she felt her heart rip in two. Ryan deserved a proper goodbye and guilt riddled her as she escaped.
Rejection! Megan saw the words as if they’d been posted on the doorpost and slapped her in the face on the way by. She settled in the backseat of the car and looked straight ahead. Megan was a mess; a prime candidate for the therapist’s
sofa. This vacation had offered no peace and Megan lashed out blaming the matchmaker Ms. Claus for lousing this one up. Yet she knew it went deeper, back to her mother’s death and father’s escape with his enterprising young woman. Two years and she still harbored love’s ultimate brushoff between father and daughter. Now add the rejection of a whole country, or at least the nobles. Would she find the long sought-after peace back in America or would the hurt fester till the day she died? She knew one thing for certain; the pain would not be swept under the rug again and one way or another, she’d create harmony with her father. At least he was reachable – Ryan was not. She straightened and looked toward the driver who seemed at a loss to gain her attention.
“To the ferry, Miss?” he said with a louder voice.
“Yes, please.”
“You’re in luck. The last one sails at eight o’clock and I can get you there in time.”
“Thank you.”
In her haste, Megan hadn’t thought about that. The sun was sinking on the western horizon and she realized she had no plane ticket when she reached land. She debated staying at the Belfry Hotel until she could make arrangements but decided against it. She needed to leave before her courage failed and she begged Ryan to take her back. It was a long ferry ride and she’d search online while they traversed the evening waters. If she had to sleep at the airport, so be it.
The transition between land and sea went smoothly. Megan’s cases were labeled and packed in the storage area while she retreated to the cafeteria. With a warm cup of hot chocolate in hand, she sat at a table beside a full-paned window facing the water. The waves lapped at the sides of the Edstrom Queen – the vessel’s name the final slap in the face – as they pulled away from shore. As they turned about face and plowed into the open sea, she allowed her mind to drift, mesmerized by the continuous lull of the engine. It felt good not to think about the chaos she’d left behind, or reason if she’d been right or wrong to pass judgement on the lousy cards the dealer had played her during this Christmas adventure. Her head began to nod, and she laid it to rest in the hollow of her arms on the table. The warm drink did its job, and soon Megan found peace in sleep.
Megan awoke with a start. People crowded against the window all around her and were gazing into the sky. The bright lights of a helicopter beamed onto the deck of the ship and a voice from above ordered the vessel to halt.
Great. The police must be after some passenger attempting to skip the country with unclaimed goods or worse, someone might have gone berserk, tossing the Queen Mother’s theory of total sanity reigning throughout her kingdom out the window – although it could be a visitor like herself. Edstrom appeared to have that effect on unguarded individuals. She shook her head free of the strange conclusions a half-groggy mind could conjure up.
She stood and threw her purse around her shoulder. The view from the deck would be better to watch the commotion unfold. As she stepped onto the top-deck, she heard what she assumed was the pilot’s voice. “Clear the deck below. His Majesty, Ryannaus Edstrom is on his way down.”
No way! Ryan? Megan peered into the blinding light as the ship staff pushed the gawkers to the inside wall where they’d be safe. From out of the brightness, she watched a man appear and continue his descent while tied securely to a cable. When his feet landed on the wooden planks, he unhooked and it retracked to the helicopter. The pilot killed the blaring light that caused those looking on to squint and Ryan scanned the passengers, stopping when his eyes met Megan’s. His stern intentions bored into her being as he walked toward her. The crowd parted in awe of this surprise visit of the new King of Edstrom still dressed in his evening finery.
Ryan reached for Megan’s hand. “I believe we have unfinished business, Miss Fairchild.” She placed a timid hand in his and caught the familiar twinkle in his eye. He tore his gaze from Megan and addressed the captain. “Do you have a place where I can speak with the lady privately?”
The man sped into action. “Certainly, follow me, Your Majesty.” He led the couple to his private quarters and office combined. “Will this do, sir?”
“Yes, thank you. This shouldn’t take long and you can be on your way.”
“No rush. This is the last ferry of the night. The folks can wait some.” No doubt they’d have lots to talk about, Meg mused.
“Please, give your passengers free drinks. The crown will cover the cost.” Ryan turned to Megan. “Now if you’ll leave us alone, we’ll get this conversation over with, once and for all.”
When the door closed, Megan chimed in. “I’m sorry for leaving without an explanation or saying a proper goodbye. I let my anger rule the day and it was childish of me.”
“We’re off to a splendid start. I agree with you. Why didn’t you just take a bath and save us the fiasco the local papers are sure to print tomorrow?”
“I wasn’t thinking…”
“And neither was mother when she sacked Francis on me and then went to hoard it over you. Why didn’t you tell me those two were bullying you? The King has made his choice for queen, and you are it, Megan. Without you, this crown will be like a noose around my neck. We can work out the problems if you’d only stop running and talk openly.”
“That whole party scene left me feeling like the outsider I truly am. Love isn’t enough Ryan to bridge the differences between us.”
“You’re wrong. Love is what will bring us into the New Year with a clear direction in both personal and national matters. My mother will not interfere, for I made it abundantly clear to both women that it’s you or no one. I can live a solitary existence if that’s the only choice you give me or we can reign together publicly and laugh and love our private lives into old age. I want my sisters to see that they have choices the monarchy has never afforded in the past. Edstrom Isle will rise out the darkness that binds it, if it’s the last thing I do as King.” Ryan gripped her arms that lay limp at her sides. “Can you read my heart and understand, Megan?”
“Do you understand my fear that I will embarrass your homeland in some bizarre way that will seem quite normal to me?”
“My mother is willing to train you in proper etiquette – as long as you promise never get lost in it. I want the real you to shine for I know my countrymen will fall in love with you as I have.”
“I’ve certainly no room in my life for multiple men, sir. You appear to be monopolizing my time with your social and private expectations.”
“If you wish to continue with your career, we will find a place to vent your passion. You can have whatever life you choose, as long as it’s with me.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Your Majesty. Your mother was quick to point out that islanders had their heads together and that my professional services were totally unnecessary. We both know that’s not true because grief is what drew me initially to you. Broken hearts and confused mind are universal.”.
“Agreed.” Ryan fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a small box. Dropping to one knee, he took her left hand in his and looked into her misty eyes.
“Miss Megan Fairchild. I kneel as any man would to pronounce my undying devotion and lay claim to your heart. Our relationship is young in the sands of time, but true love leaves no room to consider the counterfeit. I could never hope to find another match and beg you to reconsider becoming my wife?” He flipped open the box and stood to his feet. “Please, Megan, make me the happiest man in the world and say yes.”
Megan gazed at the center stone, surrounded by smaller diamonds, and somehow shaped in a miniature version of their country’s logo. “If you’ll help me to adjust, and not abandon me to the wolves that have the power to tear us apart, there is nowhere I’d rather be but in your arms as your wife first and your Queen-in-training as second.”
A wide grin spread across his face as he exhaled. “Thank goodness the groveling is over. How do my subjects keep self esteem when they so openly admire the royal family?”
“I believe it’s called respect and adoration, both of which I will gla
dly extend to you for the rest of my life,” said Megan.
Ryan pulled her into his arms. “We have so much to learn from one another. I can’t wait to begin.” His kiss started slow and curious but soon moved into an urgency that made her head spin. To think she’d nearly thrown this love aside. They parted reluctantly and he grinned. “Ready to face your public, my dear?”
“With you by my side – I got this.”
Megan awoke late the next morning and stretched in the queen-sized bed. Had she dreamed it all – the nightmare and redeeming miracle? She rolled over and pushed to the side the heavy drapes surrounding her bed. The sun immediately streamed its brilliant light into her face forcing her sleepy lids to squint and slowly open. It was well past midnight when she’d crawled between the sheets and by the looks of it, she’d missed the breakfast hour with the family. A knock sounded at the door and she pulled the blankets to her chin just as two maids barged through the door dragging a cart behind.
“Good morning,” she called out politely at the women who busied themselves preparing to serve Megan the morning meal in bed. It was too late to apologize for her tardiness so she sat up and allowed the bed tray to straddle her legs.
“Tea or coffee, Miss?”
“Coffee please, with milk.”
“I can make you a specialty blend, if you like?”
“No, the regular is fine. Don’t go to any trouble.”
“No trouble, Miss. But we can’t read your mind so don’t be afraid to speak your preferences.”
A Crown for Christmas Page 8