The sound is coming from the glasshouse, my great-grandmother's pride and joy. It’s a nineteenth-century structure filled with exotic plants from across the globe, carefully cultivated by a team of gardeners.
I pause at the entrance, listening. She laughs again, followed by several enthusiastic barks.
She hasdogsin there?
I push the door open to find my future wife sitting cross-legged on the floor, her shoes discarded carelessly, surrounded by every Labrador in the palace kennels, all with their tails wagging hard enough to generate a small wind turbine's worth of energy.
One dog has its head in her lap, gazing up at her, another is attempting to lick her face with obvious enthusiasm. Laughing, she tries to fend it off without success, her blonde hair is coming loose from her hairstyle. Her dress is a pale blue thing with long sleeves that probably looked respectable an hour ago, but is now covered in muddy paw prints and what must be dog drool across her top.
“—and then, my dear friends, the plane hit turbulence just as Bryan Adams’ latest song hit the chorus on my Walkman, which wasnoton the itinerary, let me tell you. I don't care what anyone says, flying is absolutely unnatural, particularly when Bryan is declaring he’d do anything for the womanhe loves. Well, I suppose it’s natural for birds, but not us earth-bound creatures. If humans and dogs were meant to fly, we'd have wings, wouldn't we? Yes, you agree, don't you, gorgeous?”
Scarlett, the brown lab, gives an enthusiastic lick of Astrid’s nose.
“You're very wise,” she says with a giggle. “And look at where you get to live! This palace is absolutely enormous. There should be a map with those dotted lines on the floor like at museums. You know, the ones with ‘you are here’ marked in big red letters? Oh, what am I saying? You don’t know. You’re dogs.”
I stand frozen in the doorway, trying to process this scene. She’s actually talking to the dogs as though they understand her.
Give me strength.
This woman is going to be a total catastrophe!
Mother will have an aneurysm.
Father will take up day drinking.
The press will salivate when they discover that the woman who’s meant to be the solution to the monarchy's image problem talks with dogs as she sits on the floor like a 6-year-old girl.
I should end this whole thing right now. There’s no way this could ever work. She’ll mess everything up, make a total fool of me and our family, and we’ll be humiliated and…
There’s a sudden bark as Rhett, the black lab, notices me before he bounds over to me, his tail wagging.
Princess Astrid looks up. Her gaze lands on mine and she raises her brows in surprise before her face lights up in that famous smile of hers.
Busted.
I’m struck afresh by her attractiveness, I’ll admit asmuch. Bright blonde hair, high cheekbones, full lips, pretty blue eyes.
But she’s also totally lacking in regal decorum, which is an absolute minimum for my future wife.
“Oh! It’s you!” she exclaims, scrambling to her feet with impressive proficiency. “It’s so nice to see you again, Prince Frederic. You live in such a gorgeous palace, and you have such lovely dogs.” She pets Scarlett’s head, and her tail wag morphs from happy to elated.
Before I can respond, she crosses the distance between us and clasps my hands in hers. Hers are warm and soft, and as she looks up at me with earnest eyes, I’m momentarily too stunned to react.
“Isn’t this all rather exciting?” she asks.
I come to my senses and extract my hands as quickly as I can.
I knew she had boundary issues with physical contact. She clasped my hand more than once the last time I was in Elkevik, even placing a hand on my arm at one point. But right now it feels a little too much.
I’m utterly discomfited by her proximity. “Your shoes,” I mutter.
She follows my line of sight to the discarded shoes on the floor. “I took them off,” she says, pointing out the obvious.
“As I can see.”
“I have an absolute love-hate relationship with high heels, you see. They hurt, especially when it’s warm like it is here in Villadorata. Much warmer than it is at home. But they do rather wonderful things for my calves. See?”
She points her toe as though she’s wearing the discarded shoe and gestures at her leg.
