Promised to the Swedish Prince - Sasha Cottman Page 0,7

write to her and build on their friendship. Time in which he might be able to win her heart—to steal her away from his brother.

This is a sign from heaven. If Erika doesn’t leave Sweden officially bound to Gustav, then she is still free.

Gustav could send all the letters he wished regarding how a wife should manage her husband’s house and estate. Meanwhile, he would be writing to Erika about life in Sweden, of their mutual friends, and over time, deepening their relationship.

He glanced at his brother. What he was doing went against everything his father had taught him regarding his place in the world. As the seventh son of a seventh son, he was destined to sweep up whatever crumbs were left after everyone else had taken what they wanted.

But Prince Christian Lind had now come to the conclusion that destiny was what a man made for himself. That he was not bound by fate.

Gustav might well have made up his mind when it came to Erika, but it was clear that she had not resigned herself to be his wife.

“Well, we had better be getting on board and making ourselves ready for the journey to Denmark,” said Magnus.

Christian turned to Erika. He searched her face, trying with all his might to remember every single perfect feature and commit it to memory. Her long fair Scandinavian hair. Her clear pale blue eyes. Those lips.

And a smile that brought a man to his knees.

Leaning on her walking stick, Erika made a half-curtsey to Gustav as he bowed his farewells to her. He gave a brief nod to Magnus, who smiled in response.

“Hopefully when we return, Prince Gustav, you and I shall have a formal discussion about my daughter and our plans for her future,” said Magnus.

Christian’s teeth clamped tightly together at the obvious exchange. An agreement, a pact had been made between the two men. As soon as the count and his daughter returned to Sweden, a betrothal would be announced.

But not if I have any say in it.

Erika turned her back so only Christian could see her face. She mouthed a silent “No,” to him. He blinked slowly in answer.

“Goodbye, Prince Christian,” said the count, offering his hand.

“Ha en säker resa,” replied Christian.

Erika smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, but you have to say, ‘safe travels.’ That is how the English make their farewells.”

“But I am in Sweden,” he gently protested.

Her eyes sparkled with mischievous promise. “Who knows? Some day you might visit England. You should brush up on your English, Christian. That way you will be able to impress everyone in London.”

Brush up. Was that another strange English saying? What an odd language.

Gustav threw a brotherly arm around Christian and chuckled. “I don’t think Christian will ever be allowed to travel outside of Sweden. Imagine the damage he would do to our international reputation if he did. I promise, my little brother will be staying right here at home and trying his best to keep out of trouble.”

Christian offered his own tight laugh to Gustav’s words. “Yes, imagine me going all the way to England. I must confess, my English is not very good. I always used to hide when my tutor wanted to teach me languages. Apart from French, I never saw the use for anything other than Swedish.”

“Perhaps Prince Gustav could make the trip. I am sure we could find suitable accommodations for him if he did,” replied Magnus.

Gustav snorted. “You can keep England. There is nothing of value for me there.”

Erika took her father’s offered arm and they headed toward the gangplank of the Northern Lion. Gustav released his hold on Christian, then stood with his hands behind his back. Christian glanced across at his brother, unable to fathom his cool, almost detained demeanor.

Gustav clearly thought Erika was a sure thing—a done deal. He had turned away and was headed toward his carriage before she and the count had even made it on board.

Here was the woman Gustav intended to marry, leaving on a ship—a woman he wouldn’t be seeing for another four years—and yet he had put as much effort into his goodbyes as if she had been going away for a few days.

Christian, however, remained by the dockside, feeling every inch of guilt and sympathy as Erika struggled up the narrow wooden plank. He let out a sigh of relief when a burly sailor lifted her over the side of the ship and set her carefully on the deck.

Count Jansson disappeared from