Promised to the Swedish Prince - Sasha Cottman Page 0,14

others. You know the process of negotiations, and they know the English.

If only his father and brothers could see him now. Prince Stefan would scowl and command him to succeed for the sake of his family and his country. Gustav, no doubt, would sneer and say that his self-doubt was evidence enough that he was a silly little boy who should have stayed at home.

And miss this opportunity? Not a chance.

He slyly smiled, recalling the look of pure envy on his brother’s face when Christian had announced he was to leave for England. It had almost made up for all the years of enmity between them.

“Though I think she might like you better than whatever it is Gustav has sent in that heavy box in my cabin.” He bent and gave the black and white Swedish Lapphund he had brought with him a friendly scratch behind the ear.

“Look, Freya. We are in England—our new home.”

Freya nuzzled against the side of Christian’s coat. He chuckled. She knew exactly where he kept the spare pieces of dried deer meat. After pulling one out, he laid it flat in the palm of his hand. The dog lapped it up with one lick of her tongue. She chewed it with undisguised relish.

He picked Freya up in his arms and proceeded to point out some of the tall buildings which ran along the riverside to her. “Look at all those warehouses. According to my father, this is the busiest port in all of Europe. A very important place.”

A place where a young ambitious prince could make his mark.

What he had seen so far of London reinforced what he had read about it. It was a much bigger city than Stockholm. His hometown could fit inside it many times over. It would take some getting used to being in such an enormous and crowded place.

“Stockholm has a population of seventy-five thousand people, but London has almost one and a half million. Can you imagine it, Freya? I’m not sure if I can.”

The Lapphund stared out over the water. She appeared to be far more interested in the goings-on along the river than anything Christian had to say. He smiled knowingly as he stroked her fine, shiny fur coat.

In his cramped cabin was the solid wooden box which Gustav had entrusted to him to deliver to the countess. Christian had no idea what was inside the cleverly sealed gift, but he would bet the royal crown jewels that it wouldn’t be anything special. Or at least nothing that would win Erika’s love.

He had picked it up several times and noted its heavy weight. If Gustav was true to his usual self, there would be books inside. Heavy works which covered such riveting subjects as crop rotation and the management of estate tenants. His own gift had been strategically chosen.

Freya was his secret weapon in the fight for Erika’s heart.

Chapter Seven

Erika stepped down from the carriage as the Northern Lion drew alongside the huge dock at Wapping, East London. A wide grin sat on her lips. She loved to watch the ship arrive, to hear the laughter and chatter of the Swedish sailors as they threw out the ropes.

On the deck, the captain signaled a friendly wave to her.

“Välkommen!” she cried.

Another fair-haired figure standing next to him, turned and waved. Erika’s mouth opened on a small ‘O’ at the sight. She leaned forward, squinting to get a better look.

“No. It couldn’t be. Could it?” she muttered.

A familiar “Erika!” came over the din of the dockside workers and sailors.

It was Christian. And he was in England.

Oh Lord, he is here!

She hurried to the side of the ship, staring up in happy wonderment at him while waiting impatiently for the gangplank to be put into place. The captain bowed to him, and Christian offered the man his hand. Once they had shaken hands, he quickly made his way along the plank and down to her.

The moment his feet touched land; he threw out his arms. “Oh! How wonderful it is to be standing on dry ground again. My stomach may finally forgive me.”

Erika dipped into a low regal curtsey, which was interrupted by Christian as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into his embrace. She squealed with delight as he swung her around, laughing and crying, “Hurra!”

“Christian Lind release me this instant,” she said.

“Never,” he replied.

When he finally did set her back on her feet, Erika winced only slightly as the familiar pain shot through her knee.

“Are