A/N: Sequel already! It's in progress and the computer problem hasn't gone away yet, which is making me unbelievably impatient. My continued thanks for your feedback and the patience I don't have anymore. : )
§ § § - January 3, 2000 – Lilla Jordsö
The bumpy landing at Sundborg's airport woke Christian from an uneasy doze, and he gave his head several hard shakes to clear it. Memory came back in an instant avalanche and his stomach, which had settled a bit during his slumber, grew queasy again. He knew he had done the only thing he could possibly do; but his freeing of Leslie left a void in his heart that was making him physically ill.
Anna-Kristina arose and swept past him. She was very angry with him, and hadn't spoken to him at all since their last exchange on the Fantasy Island charter plane. Christian had given up trying to draw her out; he let her go on ahead while he slowly collected his carry-on bag. He would deliver Anna-Kristina to the castle, then return home.
The limo ride there was as silent as the assorted flights had been. Christian turned inward, making busywork of removing his passport and a few other items from his carry-on and slipping them into pockets in his heavy overcoat, keeping his eyes downcast. It was a gray day on Lilla Jordsö and spitting snow flurries; the weather perfectly suited his mood. He tried to focus on his upcoming confrontation with his brother, for it hurt too much to think of Leslie.
He got out with his niece under the moss-covered stone portico and said to the driver, "Wait here, I'll return as soon as I can." The driver nodded and bowed.
Anna-Kristina glared at him and spoke to him for the first time. "I don't need any help from you."
"Well, you're going to get it nevertheless," Christian said tiredly. "I have something to say to Arnulf anyhow." She scowled but fell silent, and he led the way into the massive entry hall, while she trailed behind him, glaring knives at him.
Arnulf had a massive office from which he handled most of the daily work of running the castle and his kingdom; it was here that Christian brought Anna-Kristina. Arnulf looked astonished, then relieved, then angry. "So you've come home at last, then," he said, addressing both his brother and his daughter.
"I didn't want to," shot back Anna-Kristina. "But since Uncle Christian forced me to, I have two things I want done. I won't take no for an answer, even if you are the king."
Arnulf frowned, a not-unfamiliar expression of disapproval on his face. "Just what do you want, then?"
"Don't marry me to that beast Asgar," she said promptly. "He'll destroy me one way or another. He believes I'm his ticket to the throne and is likely to take over my position, with me as just a front so that he can get away with actual rule of the country. He belittles and criticizes me, and if he himself doesn't someday do away with me in his lust for power, then I'll kill myself to escape him."
Even her last sentence didn't seem to get through to Arnulf; he only narrowed his eyes at her and said, "You overreact, as always."
"No, I don't! Asgar doesn't want me, only the power I represent!" She shook her head in frustration. "But if you persist in marrying me to him—for that matter, even if you don't—I want Gabriella to take the throne. I no longer have any interest in becoming queen of Lilla Jordsö. I don't have the talent or the temperament for it."
Arnulf stood up. "You go too far, Anna-Kristina, and I won't allow it," he warned her ominously.
Christian exploded at that point; his sharp curse surprised both Arnulf and Anna-Kristina. "I think I've heard all I can stand, and now it's my turn to put in a word, even if it means less than a tin öre to either one of you! Arnulf, you truly live to control everyone around you, don't you? I thought it was only me, but apparently it's more than that. You aren't happy unless you're calling all the shots. You've already destroyed my life—haven't you had enough of ruining people's hopes and dreams? The very least you can do is listen to your own daughter and really pay attention to what she's trying to tell you—not to mention believing her and standing up for her, and just being on her side, as a good father should!" He stalked out in a black rage, no longer able to trust himself not to do somebody some serious bodily harm.
Outside he barked at the driver, "Take me home now. Åtta Kronorsgränd 20, the penthouse, in the capital."
"Immediately, Your Highness," was the prompt reply, and fifteen minutes later Christian let himself into his airy, light-filled apartment on the top floor of a pricey building in downtown Sundborg, on a quiet alleyway whose name translated as Eight Crowns Lane. He had the beginnings of what promised to be a massive headache, and his stomach was making serious attempts to eject what little he'd eaten on the journey back from Fantasy Island.
Marina emerged from the kitchen, looking as if she herself had returned not very long ago from somewhere—probably Italy, he mused. "So you're back. How was the trip, then?"
"I brought Anna-Kristina home safely," he said tersely, dropping his bags where he stood and beginning to shrug out of his overcoat. "I don't feel well and I think I'll go to bed."
Marina assessed him critically. "What happened to you? Christian, you can't fool me and you know it. Something has gone horribly wrong."
He eyed her wearily, dropping the coat over the back of a chair. "Give me a chance to recover, will you? Then I think we need to have a talk about a few things."
"No," Marina contradicted, "you'll tell me now. You should look rested and refreshed, if a little sad at leaving Leslie behind." Her mention of Leslie's name evoked an automatic involuntary wince from him, and she pounced. "Tell me now—what happened?"
His defeated sigh filled the quiet room. "I had to do it, Marina. I set Leslie free. There's no escape for either you or me from this marriage, and we both know it. We may as well make the best of it, you and I."
"You set Leslie free?" Marina hissed in disbelief. "Are you completely mad, Christian Enstad?"
"I told you, we have no choice. We're trapped," Christian reminded her impatiently.
"Oh no…no, no, no," Marina barked, pacing the room, throwing him frequent black glares. "Perhaps you think you have no choice, but I refuse to admit defeat to my father or your brother. They will not manipulate our lives for all time! You think there's no choice, do you? Well, I won't accept it! Our marriage remains platonic, Christian, do you understand? I give myself to no one! Even my man in Italy has waited for me."
Christian stared at her. "You little deceiver! You mean you've never…?"
"No! I want our separation to be processed as quickly as possible when the time finally arrives," Marina said heatedly, "and if I remain untouched by any man, then it's unassailable proof that this marriage was never consummated and we can obtain a simple annulment. Much quicker and more expedient than going through a time-consuming divorce. I have faith—why don't you?"
"Do you know of a way out of this impossible dilemma?" Christian demanded. She blinked and shook her head, and he spat out a string of frustrated oaths. "Just as I thought! I have no solutions, you have none…not even Mr. Roarke has a way out! It wasn't fair of me to keep Leslie hanging when I can never be with her, so I broke things off…" His voice cracked badly and he bowed his head, battling for calm.
"Then you're a fool, because you've thrown away your love for a wonderful woman who truly loves you," Marina said coldly. "I hope you'll suffer greatly for it. You deserve it for losing all faith in the end of this madness." She left him standing there trying fruitlessly to stanch the tears that had begun to fall. The worst of it, Christian reflected bleakly, was that she was right. She might be an impossible romantic: after all, she was just a child, almost eighteen years younger than he was, and she should probably be expected to cling to her useless optimism. He himself had to face reality—but that didn't change the fact that he agreed with her: he deserved to suffer for the hell he knew he had put Leslie through, and there was no question in his mind that he would.