Page 8 of The Harvest Homecoming

“How kind of you.” He blinked. “I mean, how kind of Alva. Would you like to join me for some tea and biscuits? I’m sure there are too much of both for me to finish up.”

I opened the door wider. The look that overcame him was akin to him viewing the rings of hell. Shit.

“No, no, that’s quite fine. I’m just visiting briefly for the princess. I have to return to my room. There are posts to make and an agenda for tomorrow to work on still. She was quite pleased with the sheep farm visit. Social media feedback has been high and good. People like to see the royals doing normal workaday things.”

He pushed the tray into my chest, gave me a short bow, and hightailed it. I leaned out into the hall to peek at his trim backside in his tailored slacks as he sped away.

“Thank you!” I shouted after him as he whipped around a corner. Whether he heard me or not, I had no clue, but I retreated into my suite with tea, cookies, and the knowledge that Rani cared enough to bring me decaf. Things were looking up!

***

Breakfast the next day was proof positive that thinking good thoughts as you went to bed did not mean the happy vibes would make it until morning.

After a swim and a shower, I met with the family at eight sharp to eat. Alva was bright and chipper as we made our way to the buffet to choose our foods. My brothers were already seated, as were my parents. Mama was chatting with Frode about something in the news while Papa read a newspaper.

“You look much better,” I commented to Alva while lifting the lid off a platter of smoked breakfast sausages. The rich scent of sage greeted me, making my stomach rumble with hunger.

“I feel better. Hopefully it was just a sour stomach.”

“As do I. So how is Rani? Is he enjoying his new post? Is he doing a good job? Is he dating anyone?”

She looked up at me with curious blue eyes. “He seems well. I think he likes being in the UK a great deal. He is doing a wonderful job. And why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation,” I replied with cool indifference.

“As one does over the bagels. Well, as far as I know, he’s not seeing anyone seriously.” I mentally fist pumped the air. She gave me a delightful, knowing smile that began to fade as her vision fell to the sausages. “Oh, they seem quite greasy.”

“Mm, yes, they are and freshly brought in from local butchers. Nothing says breakfast like the slip and slide of pork grease seeping into your…are you not well?”

She swallowed twice, loudly, and bolted from the room with her hand over her mouth. I watched her go and then looked at the others. Ivar threw me a dark look. “What? I didn’t do anything. We were just talking about the sausages when she went pale and ran.” Papa shot to his feet with a red, angry face, the paper gripped tightly in his hands. “Surely you don’t think to berate me over her reaction to breakfast sausage?” I returned to dishing up my food.

“Do you know what this is?” the king asked. I peeked over my shoulder to see him waving the paper about.

“It’s called a newspaper. It’s a rather archaic means of disseminating information to the masses. One step above a town crier in today’s world.”

My brothers snickered.

“Why are you always so caustic?” Papa shook the paper at me. “What the hell do you think when saying something this uncouth in front of the press?”

I sighed wearily and spooned some fluffy eggs onto my plate. “You’ll have to be more specific, Papa. I say many things that you deem uncouth.”

“I’ve been rearended before but never with that much force,” he barked, ruffling the paper I assumed had that quote written in it somewhere. “Did you think that was humorous?”

“I did, yes,” I confessed as I eyed the choices of toast. White or rye? Rye.

“Papa, seriously, it was rather funny in the context of the incident,” Frode said from behind me. My chest warmed at the brotherly support. I turned to give the crown prince a nod of thanks.

“I laughed out loud when I saw the snippet on Instagram,” Ivar added as he rose from his seat. “I have to check on Alva.”

“She’s probably sick to her stomach over the knowledge that her brother-in-law makes jokes about allowing another man to…to do such a thing,” Papa snarled before chucking the paper to the table. “You know how women are!”

“No, Magnus, we don’t know how women are. Why don’t you enlighten us, darling?” Mama said in a tone that dripped with regal displeasure. She removed her reading glasses to give Papa the full power of her death glare. I stood rooted to the spot, unwilling to step into that laser beam of female ire lest I be vaporized.

“Linnea, now is not the time. Your son has spouted off in front of the media about his past sexual frolics. Do you have any idea how the bishop is going to react when he sees this?”

“I think now is the perfect time, to be honest,” Mama replied, placing her glasses beside her bowl of oatmeal and muesli. “It was a jest, Magnus. And a clever one at that. If the bishop or anyone else takes offense over a witty pun, then they can just go diddle themselves.”

“Linnea!” Papa gasped, his eyes as round as my plate.