Promised to the Swedish Prince - Sasha Cottman Page 0,59
was both impetuous and decisive. The tiger’s eye ring was already back on her finger.
“Once we have a date organized, you will have to attend to all those womanly wedding matters, such as your gown,” he added.
Erika softly chuckled. “And what manly things will you have on your plate?” she asked.
Christian shifted in the bed, pulling the blankets farther over their rapidly cooling bodies. Erika reached up and kissed him tenderly on the lips before laying back down and snuggling against the soft hairs of his chest. She could get easily used to cuddling him.
“I will have plenty to do, including composing a couple of letters. I shall have to write to King Charles and give him a full account of the trade negotiations. But messages will also have to go to my father. And Gustav.”
She didn’t envy Christian that last task. Knowing Gustav, he would not take kindly to the news of his brother marrying the girl he had chosen, and thought was his.
“I shall also write to your brother. Since we came to England, I have sent him only one letter and that was because my father pressed me to do so. I had hoped my silence might give him a clue as to my disinterest in a union with him, but it clearly didn’t. It is only fair that he hears from me, and that I apologize.”
Despite everything that had happened between the three of them, she would soon be part of the Lind family. Erika didn’t want the ongoing tension between the brothers to result in a permanent schism.
“Thank you. Hopefully by the time Gustav and I do see one another again, time may have helped to heal some of the things between us,” he replied.
Erika smiled. “You really have become quite the diplomat.”
“I still have a great deal to learn, but with you by my side I am sure I can be a success. No. We can be a success. I love you, Erika. None of it matters unless you and I are together.”
“I love you, Christian.”
Silence descended between them. Christian’s breathing slowed and became a steady rhythm. Erika glanced up at him, smiling at his peaceful face. Her fiancé was asleep.
Theirs was no longer a fake engagement. He truly was hers. And the promises they had made to one another tonight would soon be solemnized by their wedding vows.
Sleep well, my love, my handsome Swedish prince. You are finally mine.
Epilogue
April 1817
Stockholm
* * *
“Look, George, there is the palace. That is where your farmor och morfar live.”
From where they stood on the deck of the Northern Lion, the sight of Stockholm Palace as it loomed over the landscape was breathtaking. Even the threatening grey snow clouds which hung low overhead could not spoil the view.
Seven-month-old Prince George gave his father a blank look. Christian turned to Erika and scowled. “My son does not understand the Swedish words for grandparents.”
She patted her husband gently on the arm. “Don’t worry. I expect this trip home will have him spending a lot of time with your mother. Rest assured, his first words will be in Swedish.”
It had been over four years since Erika had last set eyes on Stockholm harbor and the palace. A lifetime ago. So much had changed in her world since then.
She glanced over to where Magnus stood on the other side of the deck, his eyes shining bright. He had made the journey home with them but was still unsure as to whether he would remain in Sweden or return to England when she and Christian eventually did.
The arrival of baby George in September of the previous year had meant that her life was continually shifting. The one constant, however, was Christian. Her steadfast love for him and joy in their marriage had brought her happiness that she had once thought impossible.
The chill wind bit through her fine woolen cloak and Erika shivered. One of her first tasks as soon as they stepped ashore would be to purchase a thick Swedish fur coat.
England’s weather was kinder than here. In the garden of their new home, Erika had been able to grow the kind of delicate flowers that would not survive the harsh northern climate. Christian had proven himself a canny investor in the various new projects which the trade agreement with England had created, and his financial skills had allowed them to purchase a larger home for their growing brood.
“Don’t tell me you are cold, my love. The mild winters of London have softened