§ § § -- January 26, 2001
Anna-Kristina waited till she saw Leslie close the bedroom door; then she stripped off her soaked clothing and pulled her uncle's T-shirt over her head. He had a good eight inches on her, so his shirt was almost a dress on her, and it made her grin. She was really going to miss her uncle when she had to go back to Lilla Jordsö, and she knew she'd miss her new aunt as well. While she was closer to her mother than her father, she had never felt totally at ease around them. From the time she had been a little girl, she'd gravitated toward her Uncle Christian, who had been only fourteen years old when she was born and had somehow been dragooned to babysit her on many occasions through the first five or six years of her life, till she had started school. Thinking back on it, she had to grin to herself again. She had always been a very feminine little girl, and Christian must undoubtedly have wished time and time again that he could go off and do his own thing; but she had many fond memories of his patiently playing waiter at the tea parties she'd hosted for her dolls and stuffed animals, watching her model new dresses, even braiding her hair once her mother had shown him how. And he'd endured her endless chatter about anything and everything, seeming truly interested and even responding with all apparent seriousness. As she'd begun moving through her school years, he had helped her with endless homework assignments, especially English; his easy fluency in the language had had a tremendous effect on her, so that she too spoke it well.
She curled up on the sofa, huddled under the two blankets, and wondered how she was going to broach the subject she needed to discuss. She wanted both Christian and Leslie to be present, because they both could be expected to have some valuable input. Faintly she heard Christian's laughter from the bedroom, and a surge of envy twisted her insides. How she longed to have what her uncle and aunt did.
She didn't begrudge Christian his happiness with Leslie; he deserved it after all these years. She could remember his overblown wedding to Johanna a couple of years before she started school; it had been such a huge event that even though she'd been only five at the time, the memories were still vivid. She had been their flower girl, in fact. But Johanna had been chilly and aloof, had treated Anna-Kristina like a nuisance; and Christian and Johanna, while they both lived in the castle, had managed to spend most of their time apart. She remembered that Christian had kept his old bedroom and Johanna had taken an unused room in a different part of the castle. At the time it hadn't seemed unusual to her; in fact she liked the arrangement, for it allowed Christian to go on sitting for her. She had been eight at the time of Johanna's death, and could still remember Christian's reaction when her late grandfather, King Arnulf I, had broken the news…
"Christian, what are you doing in here?" he had asked.
"Watching Anna-Kristina, of course," Christian had replied. At twenty-two he was considered quite the heartthrob; somehow, in this already attractive family, he'd been blessed with standout good looks. "Why?"
"You'd better get dressed," his father had said. "There's a funeral to go to. We just got word from Norway. Johanna is dead."
Anna-Kristina clearly remembered Christian's reaction, or perhaps more correctly, his non-reaction: his eyebrows had gone up and his face had registered surprise, but there had been no sorrow there. "I see," was all he had said.
"Do we have to go to her funeral?" Anna-Kristina had demanded. "She didn't like Uncle Christian, farfar, and she really didn't like me. She always gave me nasty looks when she saw me."
Arnulf I, far more indulgent towards his grandchildren than his children, had smiled at her and moved into her room to chuck her under the chin. "It's not necessary that you go, little one," he had said, "but your Uncle Christian was married to her, and he must be there. It's only right."
Christian had asked, "How did it happen?"
"It was the train derailment we heard about last night," his father had said. "They finally found Johanna's body in the wreckage early this morning. A shame really; she was a lovely girl."
"She was not," Anna-Kristina had said hotly, as much in defense of her favorite uncle as in her desire to make her grandfather see the truth of things. "She was pretty, but she was nasty. I don't want Uncle Christian to get married again, farfar. He helps me with all my homework, and he always knows the answers to all my questions."
Christian had laughed and tousled her hair. "Even if I find someone else to marry, I'll still be here to help you with your homework and answer your questions, so don't worry about that. But farfar is right…I do have to attend the funeral, even if only for the sake of appearances." Anna-Kristina remembered watching him with some alarm as his face had shuttered and he'd regarded his father with a carefully expressionless stare. "I'll do my duty, as I've always done."
Anna-Kristina sighed softly. Christian had never really been rebellious, at least not in the sense most people thought of it; but it had been obvious that he'd often chafed under the constraints of being born into royalty. After her grandfather had died in the fall of 1995 and her father had been crowned king, it had become all the worse. Not right away, though—now that she thought of it, it had happened just about the time he'd met Leslie and then come back to find himself married off to Marina. It was Christian's free-spiritedness and genuine warmth that had enabled him to connect with the public, and in addition to his looks, that had won him quite a few female admirers. Between Johanna's death and his marriage to Marina, Anna-Kristina could remember him dating only three or four women, and none of them had been serious in any way. For all his warmth and spontaneity, he was still royalty, and had been raised to be unreachable, in the manner of a celebrity. She wished she knew what it was about Leslie that had finally made him fall in love; she knew he hadn't loved Johanna or Marina, and certainly none of his few casual girlfriends in between. There were some things Christian kept private: she wondered if he had told, or ever would tell, Leslie about them. If anyone deserves to know, she does, the princess thought.
Her thoughts put her to sleep; and when she slowly returned to awareness, she heard voices, low but distinct. "You're making what?" she heard Leslie ask.
"Huevos rancheros," Christian said. "There must be some cayenne pepper around here…have you found the spices yet, my Rose?"
"No…let me try up here." There were sounds of feet moving around the kitchen and the muted clangs of pans on the stove. "Aha, here they are. Cayenne, huh? Are you planning to invite Father over for breakfast? He was raised on this kind of thing."
"Hadn't thought of that. Don't we have enough houseguests?"
"Shush, my love…you'll wake up Anna-Kristina. Be nice." Leslie giggled at something, and then came an odd little squashing noise and Christian's low, laughing, resigned curse. "You're an egg murderer, Christian Enstad!"
"It's your fault, you distracted me." This through more laughter. "I hope we're not running out of eggs…"
"Wouldn't surprise me, that's the third one you've managed to ruin. For all your cooking skills, I see you can't crack eggs. You did the same thing our first morning here, and don't think I didn't notice it."
"You just decided to be generous and overlook it, is that it?" Still more laughter, from both of them. "Here, give me that. Don't hide the cookbook on me, I've never done this before and I need help." There was the slapping sound of a book on a counter. Anna-Kristina, now wide awake, grinned to herself; their banter was fun to listen to. She was thrilled that her uncle was finally so happy.
"Are you sure you've got that? Maybe I'd better do something around here other than watching you shatter eggshells. Were you planning on making something to go with this?"
"Well, if you can't tolerate spices, then you might be interested in whipping up some more of those Belgian waffles. Anna-Kristina might like those, and I think they're delicious. Why isn't this damn thing written in metrics? Do recipes actually work with these peculiar imperial measurements?"
"Sure they do. I grew up on them. If you need help, just yell."
"I'll figure this out if it kills me. Please, my darling, will you make the waffles?"
Another laugh. "In case the eggs are a disaster, you mean?" There was a low masculine growl and a squeal of feminine laughter, more footsteps across the floor, then silence, except at one point for a soft moan. Anna-Kristina smirked. They must be kissing again; she had never seen any two people who were less capable of keeping their hands off each other. Mischievously she tossed aside the blankets, got to her feet and stretched, then turned to observe her uncle and aunt deeply involved, hands roaming freely.
"Good morning," she singsonged loudly.
Christian and Leslie broke apart, looking slightly confused; Leslie blinked and Christian narrowed his eyes at her, strictly for show. "Now you decide to get up," he said.
She snickered and came into the kitchen. "What are you doing in here? Destroying eggs again, are you, Uncle Christian? Oh my. I've never seen you use a cookbook before."
Christian stared at her and then at Leslie, asking his wife plaintively, "Did I do or say something to deserve this kind of abuse? If you want breakfast, Anna-Kristina Maria Linda Karina Enstad, then watch your mouth and treat me nicely."
"Oh dear," Anna-Kristina said and grinned at Leslie. "When Uncle Christian calls me by all my names, I know I'm in deep trouble. I'll try to be good, I promise." She sobered. "I do still need to talk to you both, really."
"Well, we're both in the middle of cooking," said Leslie, "so why don't you sit up here at the counter and keep an eye on the egg murderer here while you talk." Anna-Kristina let out a squall of laughter while Christian shook his head with reluctant amusement.
"Do you want to do this, then?" he asked with fake ferocity.
"Nope, you said you'd figure it out if it kills you, my love," Leslie told him with a grin. "Let's just get to work over here and let your niece have her say."
"She's your niece too, my darling," Christian reminded her gently, kissing her softly before turning her loose. "Don't forget, my family is yours now." He smiled, then returned to his breakfast project. "All right, then, so go ahead, Anna-Kristina, we're listening."
She drew in a deep breath and said, "I wish I could have the same thing you two do. You're so wonderful together, so right for each other. It makes me so envious, and now that there are two possibilities, I don't know what will be right."
"Two possibilities for what?" Christian asked, confused again.
Leslie looked up from assembling waffle batter. "Are you saying there're two guys you're interested in?"
Anna-Kristina nodded. "In a way, I guess. I mean…let me start at the beginning—"
"That would be helpful," Christian put in with a wry look at his niece.
"Don't interrupt me," she said, piqued. "It's hard to think when you tease me."
"It's only that you're not making much sense," Christian returned logically. "You started out by telling Leslie and me that we're so right for each other—which I did find entirely sensible of you to say, perhaps even brilliant—" He paused long enough to grin at Leslie, who laughed and nodded. "—but then you said something about possibilities, and it was hard to see how that connected with the rest of your sentence. Now, where does all this begin, so that we have a chance to give you that advice you're looking for?"
"It started at the reception for your wedding," Anna-Kristina said. "I know you didn't stay very long, so you would have missed it. Prince Carlono likes me, I think. He asked me to dance, and he dances very nicely. He has lovely manners, and treated me with respect and warmth, and was just a very nice man. But…"
"You're not attracted to him," Leslie guessed.
"Maybe a little," Anna-Kristina said, hunching one shoulder and directing a wistful look at her. "I suppose I might have been more so, but then I was getting something to eat and that's when I saw him. He sat at a table with three other men. I think he's a native of this island, Aunt Leslie. I wanted to meet him, and I saw no reason not to talk to him, so I went there and said hello. The other men said hello back, but the one I was watching only nodded once and didn't speak. He watched me a little, but he didn't seem to be willing to respond to me." She bit her lip. "I don't even know his name."
"What did he look like?" Christian asked.
"Black hair and dark skin and brown eyes," said Anna-Kristina, shrugging. "He seemed to have nice muscles on his arms and shoulders, at least what I saw under his shirt, but I thought his legs looked a little thin. He held them oddly…I mean, when he sat, one leg was stretched out almost straight."
Christian and Leslie both went still and stared at her, then at each other in recognition. "That's Mateo," they said in perfect unison.
"What? Tell me his name again!" Anna-Kristina pleaded.
"Mateo Apana," Leslie supplied. "We both know him. He used to be one of Father's regular drivers, and now he's the manager for Christian's office here."
"He's a very good man," Christian said, "but I can't say I know him well…I think Leslie would be able to tell you more than I can. He works hard and is dedicated to his job, but he never strays from business matters when we speak."
"He's an unusually private person," Leslie said slowly, thinking back. "He was always polite and friendly, but never really talked much—he's quite reserved. Father respected that and never tried to draw him out, but I can remember a couple of occasions when he thought Mateo might have some sort of…I don't know, issues…for lack of a better word. I think he just sensed that not everything was right in Mateo's world. But he never once pushed him; he said Mateo had a right to his privacy, and that it was no one else's place to pry. We know almost nothing about him. I don't know if he even has any friends. You said he was sitting with some other men?"
Anna-Kristina nodded. "I watched him for a few minutes, just looking at him, before I went to say hello. I just liked what I saw. The other men were speaking, and sometimes he would smile, but he himself didn't say anything. But he has such a nice face…" She turned red and admitted, "It's the sort of face I used to picture on a man I would fall in love with. I just know that I'd like to get to know him, but now that you tell me about him, I'm afraid I won't be able to do it." She studied her folded hands on the countertop. "It would be easier and more sensible to let Prince Carlono court me, wouldn't it? He really seems to like me, but I don't think Mateo has any interest."
"That all depends on your feelings, honey," Leslie said gently. "If it's Mateo you're really attracted to, I think you'd regret it if you didn't at least try."
"Leslie's right," Christian said, coming up behind his wife and resting his arm around her waist. "Look, if you like, I can facilitate introductions. After that, what happens is up to you and Mateo. But you surprise me; Mateo's personality, at least on the surface, is very different from yours. He speaks little beyond what's required, whereas you're a relentless chatterbox." He grinned at Anna-Kristina's dirty look. "You are, and you know it perfectly well. I'd think you'd be attracted to someone as talkative as you are."
"You know the saying, my love," Leslie said, "opposites attract."
Christian shrugged comfortably. "True. I just didn't think these particular opposites would attract. Anyhow, I do need to start shopping for a computer system I can use at home, and it wouldn't hurt to drop by the office. I can introduce you to Mateo then, and after that you're on your own, because Leslie and I are going to Coral Island where there's supposed to be a very good electronics store. If you need advice after that, then I suggest you go to Mr. Roarke. You're a guest here, and I see no reason he wouldn't be willing to help you. You seem to forget that Leslie and I have several days of honeymoon remaining to us, and we'd be grateful to be left alone to make the most of them before it's time to rejoin the outside world. So is that arrangement good enough for you?"
Anna-Kristina eyed him, then looked at Leslie and remarked, "I think Uncle Christian just told me I'm being kicked out."
Christian grumbled something in jordiska and Leslie laughed softly, planting a kiss on his lips. "Not to be so indiscreet about it, but yes, that's it in a nutshell. Once we've had breakfast, we'll all head back to our end of the island. Oh, and while we're eating, give me your clothes, Anna-Kristina, and I'll throw them in the dryer for you so you don't have to wear Christian's old T-shirt back to your bungalow."
Christian finished his egg project while Leslie went off with Anna-Kristina's still-wet clothing. When she came back to mix the batter ingredients, Anna-Kristina was standing next to Christian at the stove, peering dubiously at the contents of the pan he was tending. "What's that supposed to be? I think I heard you call it something in another language."
"It's called huevos rancheros, and the cookbook says that huevos is Spanish for eggs," Christian told her. "Do you want to try some?"
"Okay," said Anna-Kristina, shrugging. Leslie grinned.
"At your own risk," she said in cheerful warning, making their niece laugh aloud.
Christian rolled his eyes. "Now I understand how Rodney Dangerfield feels. Not even my own wife will give me a break. I followed the recipe exactly. Don't you trust me?"
"No," said Anna-Kristina, and Leslie giggled.
"I'll reserve judgment, my love," she promised her husband, who shook his head with exaggerated disgust and started scraping the concoction out of the pan. Putting the cover on the dish he was using, he started a new batch while Leslie began turning out waffles; by the time that was ready, she had made enough waffles for each of them to have two. While Anna-Kristina watched, Christian and Leslie began splitting their fare among three plates, working in nicely choreographed tandem. Again she wondered if she would ever find with someone else the easy harmony they shared.
Christian handed a plate across the counter to Anna-Kristina and scraped a last spoonful out of the pan before setting it in the sink and running water into it; then he turned to Leslie and offered the spoon to her. "Try it?"
She affected a highly doubtful look, but her eyes twinkled. "Oh, all right," she said and opened her mouth while he fed her. Christian dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose and let the spoon fall into the pan, adding soap.
"I think we'd better go to the grocery store," he mused, coaxing the last of the dish detergent out of the bottle.
"Hmm, we could…" Then Leslie's eyes went huge with shock and she gulped audibly before grabbing the counter and gasping. "Yoooowwwwwwww!!"
Anna-Kristina sat up in alarm and Christian flew into action, frantically grasping her shoulders. "Leslie, my Rose! What's wrong? Tell me what to do, please!"
She gaped at him, her eyes enormous, her breath coming in shallow pants. "Juice," she gasped out. "Bread. Anything. Quick, please…"
Looking terrified, Christian seized the loaf of bread from the top of the refrigerator where it sat, blindly fished out the heel and handed it to Leslie, who grabbed it from his hand and took a huge, desperate bite. Anna-Kristina stared in amazement. "What on earth is wrong?" she exclaimed.
"I don't know," Christian cried. "Leslie, my darling, please, what's the matter?"
She shook her head hard, her eyes squeezed shut, working on the mouthful of bread; when she finally swallowed and looked up at him, her eyes were wet. "Good God, Christian, what did you put in those eggs?" she demanded, still panting a little. "I thought my throat had caught fire!"
The panic faded from Christian's look, replaced by confusion. "I just followed the recipe," he said, bewildered. "Why?"
"Let me see that cookbook," she said, and he pulled it off the counter where it still lay open to the recipe he'd chosen. She peered at the ingredient list, absently fanning her hand in front of her mouth for a moment. "Are you sure you followed it exactly?"
"Of course I did," Christian insisted. "For heaven's sake, why?"
"Well, something went wrong," Leslie said and moved closer to him, holding the book so he could see it as well. "Read me the ingredient list."
"Four eggs," Christian read, "three tablespoons of hot sauce, three tablespoons of cayenne pepper—"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Leslie interrupted, gawking at him again. "Tablespoons!? Christian, my darling, this abbreviation is for teaspoons!"
Both Christian and Anna-Kristina looked totally blank. "So?" Christian prompted.
"So you put far too much hot sauce and cayenne pepper into those eggs," Leslie informed him. "Teaspoons are considerably smaller than tablespoons."
"Really?" said Anna-Kristina curiously and popped a bite into her mouth before Leslie could stop her. Christian eyed her sidelong, with a skittish look that said he was waiting for another over-the-top reaction; he and Leslie were rewarded seconds later when Anna-Kristina exploded into a coughing fit. Sighing with resignation, Christian gave her a piece of bread and looked at his wife.
"Why didn't you tell me about that?" he asked.
"I told you to yell if you needed help," Leslie reminded him. "But you insisted you were going to figure it out all on your own."
Christian cursed, without much force. "You're right," he admitted and let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. "I was afraid I'd poisoned you or something. I'm sorry, my Rose, I should have asked you."
She grinned. "Well, no permanent damage was done," she said, hugging him. "Maybe you're right about the metric cookbooks. There should be some in the bookshop here—I know the mall on Coral Island won't have them, since it serves primarily the military base there, and that's American. We'll just have to stop and get you some." She patted his chest. "It really is too bad Father wasn't here—I think he'd have loved this."
"What did they feed Mr. Roarke when he was growing up, flaming swords?" Anna-Kristina finally managed to choke out, her eyes streaming reflexively. "There should be a strong warning with that recipe. Aj herregud, I can't believe I haven't died."
"I told you she had a bent for dramatics," Christian remarked in a stage-whispery aside to Leslie, who burst out laughing.