The Outlaw Prince's Captive - Holly Rayner Page 0,58

down some glasses and passed them to Camilla, who set them out on the table. “Viggo, this is my mother’s brother, Santino,” she said. “Uncle Santino, this is Viggo.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Viggo said.

“Likewise,” Francesca’s uncle said. “Swedish, are you?”

“Very close,” Viggo said, smiling. “I am from the Kingdom of Konäs.”

“He’s the Prince of Konäs, Uncle Santino,” Camilla said, raising her eyebrows.

“Wine’s ready,” Gio announced. “White for everyone, since we’re having chicken.”

“And the chicken’s ready too,” Viggo called from the kitchen. “Sit down, please! No, I don’t need any help. You’re our guests. I insist.”

Everyone took their places around the table except for Viggo and Francesca, who began ferrying dishes from the kitchen to the dining nook.

“So you two met through work, is that it?” Francesca’s mother asked.

“Something like that,” Francesca said, taking her seat.

She helped herself to some salad and passed the dish on, hoping that her family wouldn’t ask any follow-up questions about the way she and Viggo had met. She didn’t want to have to worry about explaining the story of the hit-and-run to them. Not on their first time meeting him.

They would have accepted it, she thought. But having to relive the tale would have been uncomfortable for Viggo. She wanted the evening to be as easy as possible for him.

Fortunately, nobody said anything about the accident or the investigation. Francesca thought she caught Camilla shooting her a glance—if anyone in the family was likely to have read the story in the tabloids, it was Camilla—but her sister seemed to sense that Francesca was trying to avoid the topic, and she said nothing.

“And how long have you been seeing each other now?” Francesca’s mother asked.

“About two months,” Francesca said.

“It feels longer, though,” Viggo added, smiling and taking her hand.

Gio raised his eyebrows at Francesca, who blushed and looked away.

“Two months is a long time for Francesca,” Camilla spoke up. “I don’t know if she’s ever had a relationship last that long.”

“Camilla,” Francesca hissed.

But Viggo laughed. “I wouldn’t think so!” he said. “She has such an important job, after all, and she is so devoted to doing it well. I feel incredibly lucky that she has made time in her busy life for me. I feel as though I must be special for her to judge me as worth the effort.”

“You are special,” Francesca said, squeezing his hand.

“Looks like a perfect match if you ask me,” her uncle said, taking a bite of his chicken. “And I see that you can cook, too. Francesca’s never been any great hand in the kitchen. Her mother’s the same way. It’s the men who are the cooks in our family.”

“I can cook,” Camilla protested.

Gio laughed. “Heating up pasta and putting sauce from a jar on it isn’t cooking.”

“Do you cook, Gio?” Viggo asked.

“Not as well as this,” Gio said, indicating the food on the table before him. “I have a few dishes I can make pretty well, things I’ve done over and over.”

“Selling himself short, as usual,” Francesca’s grandmother said. “He’s a magnificent cook.”

“Nonna plays favorites with us,” Gio said, laughing.

“I do no such thing,” their grandmother said indignantly. “You are a magnificent cook, Gio, even if it is only a few dishes you make. You’ve been hired to cook for events, haven’t you?”

“Nothing dramatic,” Gio said. “Friends have given me a bit of money to do their weddings and golden anniversary parties. Things like that.”

“Maybe you’ll be the cook at Francesca’s wedding,” their grandmother said meaningfully.

“You’re jumping the gun, Nonna,” Francesca laughed. “We’ve only been dating for two months.”

“Well, what difference does that make?” her grandmother asked. “Your grandfather and I had only known each other for six weeks when he asked me to marry him. When you know you’re ready, you know it!”

“I’m sorry,” Francesca said to Viggo.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he assured her. To her grandmother, he said, “I think that’s very romantic.”

“You see?” her grandmother said.

“I don’t have a ring to offer today,” Viggo said. “But I do have something else. A gift for Francesca. And I’d like to give it to her while everyone is here.”

“A gift?” her mother said, sounding pleased and surprised. “Isn’t that lovely!”

“What’s the occasion?” Camilla asked. “Some kind of anniversary?”

“As a matter of fact,” Viggo said, “I think this gift is occasioned by something you yourself will appreciate, Camilla.”

He stood and reached into his pocket, fishing out a silver keychain in the shape of the island of Konäs. Two keys hung from the ring.

“These are the keys to my