The concept was difficult to fathom, especially after the many years he’d lived to please his father and country. He’d loved and admired his father, but the king had been a hard and demanding man and had shown little affection. Nevertheless, Philip had tried to be adequate and make his father proud.
Gustaf, on the other hand, had always resented their father and had surrounded himself with friends and advisors who stirred up doubts and arrogance. Gustaf’s rebellious ways had only contributed to Philip’s desire to be all the more compliant. He’d learned to be lighthearted to ease the tension and problems that arose with Gustaf and his parents.
In trying to make everyone else happy and smooth over the problems, had he lost the ability to look out for his own needs? Like the need to have the woman he loved?
He groaned and leaned his head against the door. Yes, he loved Felicity. He’d been trying to deny it all this time, but he’d started falling in love with her the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, when she’d taken the seat across the table from him at Mrs. Bancroft’s and had responded to one of his flirtations with a sassy comment.
A rushing waterfall of need plummeted through his chest, nearly buckling him to his knees. He needed her in his life, couldn’t imagine a future without her in it. In fact, he didn’t want to go another day without seeing or talking to her.
Was there a way to pursue the woman he loved and still maintain duty to his country? He couldn’t ride away from her without trying to find a solution—one in which he still obeyed the laws of his country regarding marriage but also had the option of negotiating with parliament.
Maybe it was time to stop trying to please everyone and once in a while stand up for something that was important to him. And she was important. She was the most important person in his life.
He straightened and pressed a fist against the ache in his chest. He had to go tell her of his feelings, his love, his hope to find a way to be together, everything. He wasn’t sure how anything could ever work out between them, since he couldn’t abandon his country and she wouldn’t abandon the boardinghouse. But even if they couldn’t be together now, he wanted the assurance that someday they could be reunited.
If she’d still have him . . . He didn’t deserve her love for riding away from her yesterday. But he’d do whatever he could to earn it back.
He threw open the door to his hotel room and stalked out, barely remembering to close the door behind him. Hope, anticipation, excitement made his steps light and quick as he raced down the stairway.
He’d ride out to the boardinghouse, fall onto his knees as dramatically as he could, and beg her to forgive him for being such an idiot. He’d do what he should have done yesterday—tell her he loved her and that he had for a long time. And then together, they’d discuss the future. So much was uncertain about what would happen in the days and weeks to come in Lapland, with his brother and the state of the kingship. But he wouldn’t sacrifice having her. He couldn’t.
With new energy and his hunger forgotten, he descended into the wide hallway. The haze of cigar smoke enveloped him in the dim light of the evening. Laughter and conversation and the clinking of dishes echoed from the dining room, filled with the mostly male population staying at the hotel.
Philip passed by without a glance, his focus on the door and the need to find a horse at the livery that he could use for riding out to the boardinghouse.
“Oh, Mr. Berg.” Mr. Fehling’s call came from the dining room.
Philip didn’t slow his footsteps, didn’t want to waste another minute—not even another second—in returning to Felicity and pleading with her. And even though Mr. Fehling was a kind hotel proprietor, he was quite the talker. Usually, Philip didn’t mind and had spent many an evening with Declan and Mr. Fehling, smoking cigars and having lively discussions.
“Wait, Philip.” Mr. Fehling’s voice held a note of concern.
Philip halted in front of the door and turned just as the heavyset man lumbered into the hallway, his shiny forehead and receding hairline perspiring. He held a coffee pot in one hand, was rarely without it.
“I tried to catch your attention when you entered a little bit ago.” Mr. Fehling began to dig in the front pocket of his stained apron. “But you ran up those stairs before I could manage a word.”
“You’ll have to excuse me, sir. I’m in a hurry tonight.”
Mr. Fehling fished in his pocket a moment longer before pulling out a folded paper. “Some fella stopped by and insisted I give this to you. Said it was urgent, that you’d want it tonight.”
Urgent? Philip’s pattering pulse tripped over itself. “What’s the urgency? Has something happened to Felicity?”
“Sorry, Mr. Berg.” Mr. Fehling handed him the slip with a sheepish smile. “I admit, I tried reading it, but the message is written in a foreign language.”
“Probably Danish, my natural tongue.” Philip took the paper with a growing anticipation. What if it was the news he’d been waiting for from the prime minister? So far, all their communication had been private and secretive. But if the prime minister was being open with their exchanges, then that had to mean the rebellion was over and Gustaf was out of power.
He slipped open the half sheet to find a brief, neatly penned note in Danish: I have her. If you want to save her, you must hand yourself over to me at the abandoned Hawthorne Mine. Alone.
“No.” The whisper came out strangled, and his blood turned to ice. He didn’t need an explanation to know the note was referring to Felicity. And he also didn’t need an explanation to know the note was from the assassin who’d been trailing him during his travels.
This was his worst nightmare coming true.
As the horror spread through him, he tried to clear his mind so that he could think. He had to do something to save her. Had to find a way to free her without bringing her more harm.
At the prospect of her suffering in any way, his gut churned with the need to be sick.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Berg?” Mr. Fehling took a step toward him, concern etching his forehead. “Bad news?”
Philip nodded. The note said he had to go alone. But should he at least tell Mr. Fehling about the kidnapping? Maybe the local sheriff? What was unclear was why the assassin hadn’t just taken him prisoner and had instead captured Felicity to use as ransom.
He had no guarantee that, even if he handed himself over, the killer would set Felicity free. What would stop the assassin from doing away with them both?
“I have to go and take care of something.” Philip peered past the dusty window at the front of the hotel. He didn’t know how far Hawthorne Mine was from Fairplay, but he’d heard it was abandoned and guessed it was several miles to the west in the foothills. The evening sky was already turning dark. By the time he reached the mine, night would have settled, making his rescue of Felicity all that much more dangerous.
The fear and desperation inside prodded him to leave. Who knew how much time he’d already let elapse since the assassin had left the note? And who knew what he’d done to Felicity by now?
Yet as much as Philip wanted to rush out and try to rescue her, he suspected the assassin was laying a trap for him and that he had to move cautiously or he wouldn’t be able to help Felicity. Before leaving, he had to find out more about Hawthorne Mine. Then he’d have an easier time navigating once he got there. “Mr. Fehling, you know most of the men in Fairplay and in the surrounding area, don’t you?”