Page 51 of The Broken Dawn

"I just..." Jakob swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the reality of this moment. "I never thought..."

"What?" Harald's thumb traced his cheekbone. "That I wanted this as much as you did? That I've been thinking about touching you since I caught you watching me this morning in front of the mirror?" His smile turned playful. "That your prince could be reduced to rutting against you on a rock like a desperate schoolboy?"

The teasing made Jakob laugh, breaking through his awe. He leaned in to steal another kiss, because he could now - could taste Harald's answering smile, could feel the way Harald's body melted against his. The sun was warm on their backs, drying the last of the lake water from their skin.

"We should probably..." Jakob gestured vaguely toward their discarded clothes on the shore, but made no move to get up.

"Probably," Harald agreed, but his mouth found Jakob's throat again, and it was another long while before they cleaned up and managed to make their way back to land.

The late afternoon sun had warmed the sand where they'd left their clothes. Harald caught Jakob's hand as they walked up the beach, tugging him close for another soft kiss that made Jakob's knees weak. Getting dressed was a slow process, interrupted by wandering hands and gentle touches - Harald's fingers tracing the freckles across Jakob's shoulders, Jakob unable to resist pressing his lips to that spot behind Harald's ear that made him shiver.

"Your hair's a mess," Harald murmured, reaching up to smooth Jakob's wild curls. His touch was impossibly tender, and Jakob leaned into it like a cat being petted.

"Whose fault is that?" Jakob meant it to be teasing, but his voice came out too soft, too full of the feelings expanding in his chest. Harald's eyes darkened, and he pulled Jakob in for another kiss that started gentle but quickly turned heated.

"We'll never get dressed at this rate," Jakob gasped when they finally broke apart.

"Would that be so terrible?" Harald's smile was playful, but there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made Jakob's heart twist. Like he wasn't quite sure of his welcome, even now.

Jakob caught Harald's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. "No," he said softly. "But I'd rather not explain to my mother why the Prince of Sweden is wandering around our farm half-naked."

Harald laughed, the sound bright and free in a way Jakob had never heard before. It made him want to gather Harald close and keep him here forever. Instead, he helped Harald with the buttons of his borrowed shirt, letting his fingers linger on warm skin.

They walked slowly back toward the farmhouse, shoulders brushing, stealing glances at each other like schoolboys. Harald's borrowed clothes were slightly damp, his hair curling as it dried in the sun. He looked nothing like a prince - just a beautiful boy with kiss-swollen lips and a smile he couldn't quite contain.

Jakob wasn't doing much better at hiding his own smile. Every few steps, their hands would brush, sending sparks up his arm. Once, Harald caught his fingers, squeezing gently before letting go. The simple touch made Jakob's heart flutter like a bird in his chest.

"Your shirt's buttoned wrong," Harald murmured, reaching out to fix it. His fingers lingered on Jakob's collar, smoothing it down. The tender gesture made Jakob's breath catch.

"Can't imagine why I was distracted while dressing," Jakob said, and was rewarded with another of those bright, free laughs that made his chest ache with joy.

It took another half hour before they finally extricated themselves enough to walk, mostly clothed and mostly calmly toward the gate, where Jakob bid Hal a final and much more modest farewell with a smile and a squeeze of his palm. His body still ached pleasantly from their afternoon on the rock, and he couldn't quite hide his grin as he let Hal out of the farm gate.

Jakob was in no hurry to go back inside, the night cool and crisp with the first bite of winter, leaves falling and fluttering all around Hal as his figure faded into the dark and distance. He leaned against the gate post, replaying every moment, every touch, every kiss. His fingers absently traced the spots where Hal's mouth had been, remembering.

It was only because he stayed out so long, lost in the memory of Hal's hands and lips and whispered words, that he saw Rachel. Her pale day dress stood out against the gathering dark as she emerged from behind the old storage barn, and Jakob's contentment shattered as he watched her part reluctantly from a tall male figure with pale, pale blond hair.

It could be any number of people, Jakob told himself, as the analytical part of his mind desperately cataloged possibilities. Marcus from town? But no, the figure was slim where Marcus was bulky. Old Erick returning Rachel's satchel? But his stomach was tight with certainty, because by far the most likely candidate would be the person Jakob least wanted anywhere near his sister: Christian Haakon Vasa.

Chapter 9

September 28, 1939

Sarah Eliasberg reached the edge of the chicken yard just in time to see a tall, aristocratic boy in a set of her dead husband's work clothes attempting to collect eggs from the nesting boxes while being thoroughly intimidated by her most aggressive hen. Her son stood nearby, clearly trying not to laugh while also attempting to look helpful.

"Yasha." Her voice carried that particular maternal tone that had struck fear into the hearts of Jewish sons for generations.

Jakob's shoulders tensed. "Yes, Mama?"

"Prince Harald." She nodded at the royal egg collector, who had frozen mid-reach. "I see you've been promoted from uniform patches to chicken wrangling."

Harald straightened, offering an awkward bow that made the hen squawk indignantly. "Good morning, Mrs. Eliasberg."

"Oy gevalt." Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yasha, when I said the prince seemed like a nice boy at the laundry, I did not mean that you should invite him home to help on the farm." She switched to Yiddish. "What kind of meshuggeneh brings royalty home to collect eggs? Are you trying to give your mother a heart attack? Next you'll tell me the king is coming to milk the cows!"

"What did she say?" Harald whispered to Jakob, his eyes never leaving Sarah.

Jakob's lips twitched. "She said she's concerned you might invite your father to milk the cows."