“We’ll discuss our future later. For now, I want to return to town and let the doctor take a look at your wounds.”
When he began to guide her toward the entrance, she didn’t resist. The bodyguard had already disposed of the assassin’s body. She didn’t ask where, didn’t want to know. All she cared about was that Philip was alive and well . . . and somehow, she had to keep him that way.
The bodyguard, a man by the name of Sven, brought Philip’s horse around to the front entrance of the mine. He was quick to serve, respectful, and deferred to Philip in all things. He even bowed toward Philip on occasion. Philip accepted the special treatment, clearly accustomed to it.
Carrying a lantern, Sven led the way during the ride out of the narrow, overgrown gorge, down the mountain, and back into the foothills. Felicity sat in the saddle in front of Philip. With his arms surrounding her and his solid chest pressed against her, she could almost believe everything would be okay.
Since the medical clinic was closed, Philip took her straight to the doctor’s mansion, set on the edge of town. Both doctors, Astrid and Logan, were home, and they tended to her wounds. When finished, Philip drove her wagon while she rode his horse out to the boardinghouse, with Sven leading the way once again.
Even though the chill and darkness of night had settled, Mrs. Keller and Serena rushed outside at the first sight of her, worried because she’d been gone so long without a word.
She started to explain all that had happened but then stopped abruptly and looked at Philip for guidance on how much to reveal. Even though she’d already forgiven him for deceiving her about his identity, she was beginning to understand why he’d done it. After just one day, she’d almost disclosed that he was a prince. How would she have kept his secret for weeks?
She let Philip tell the story about her kidnapping so that he could share as much or as little as he wanted about all that had transpired.
When the hour finally grew late, Philip insisted on staying at the boardinghouse for the night. She didn’t protest. After everything that had happened, somehow the boardinghouse felt safer than town, even though that wasn’t necessarily true.
Philip offered to watch Mr. Keller for the first shift of the night so that Mrs. Keller could sleep on the sofa. And as Philip situated himself beside the older man with a book in hand, Sven pulled up a chair in the kitchen and positioned it outside the bedroom door.
When Felicity finally crawled under her covers, she was too tired to keep her eyes open. She hugged her covers around her, gratitude swelling in her heart. Philip was safe and back at the boardinghouse where he belonged.
But was it where he belonged? And would she have the strength to send him on his way tomorrow as she knew she needed to?
23
Three days. Philip had sent the transatlantic telegram to the prime minister three days ago. And he hadn’t heard back.
He’d been hoping for a return telegram from the prime minister and parliament with their thoughts about his plans. Although he wanted to respect the government and the law, he couldn’t be bound so tightly in the matter of who he chose for his wife.
With or without their approval, he was moving forward. If someday Gustaf was no longer king and parliament rejected him for his decision, he was confident his younger sister Estelle could take the leadership, especially if he stood by her side and assisted her.
He paused in chopping wood to wipe perspiration from his forehead, the morning sunshine as beautiful as always in the high mountain country. Though the November air was crisp, the sky was as blue as a summer day.
He would miss this place with its wide openness and the rugged mountains surrounding it.
But today he was leaving. During a trip into town the previous afternoon with Sven, he’d learned the snow in the passes had finally melted enough for horses and riders to cross over. The way was wet and even slick in places, but the few travelers who’d made it up from Denver proved it was doable.
Yes, he was leaving today. And he was taking Felicity with him. She just didn’t know it yet.
He drew in a breath, his nostrils filling with the scent of damp soil, the ground and grass still soggy from the melted snow. The air was also laden with the smell of freshly cut wood.
Sven had done most of the chopping, but Philip had wanted to do his part, too, in making sure the boardinghouse would be well taken care of over the winter. And now that the pile under the lean-to was double- and triple-stacked, there would be more than plenty.
He and Sven had also rebuilt the stalls in the barn, had stocked the loft with plenty of hay and feed for the livestock, and had even made repairs to the house in places where the storm had taken a toll.
Sven had made it clear that he didn’t want Philip helping, always rushing to do everything for him and treating him like the royalty he was. Which was a big problem when they were still trying to keep his status as a prince undercover.
With how difficult it was for Sven to pretend a prince of Lapland was just an ordinary fellow, Philip better understood why the prime minister had instructed Sven not to interact with Philip at all but to remain anonymous.
As it was, even now Sven was gathering the pieces that Philip was chopping and adding them to the piles under the lean-to. The burly man was a constant presence at his side, and the lack of privacy and freedom had taken getting used to again, especially because it had allowed him no time alone with Felicity.
Strangely, neither the Kellers nor Serena had seemed perturbed by Sven’s presence. They hadn’t asked for an explanation for why the big fellow was there or where he’d come from. And if they thought Sven’s behavior was strange, they didn’t show it.
Sven held out his hand for the ax. “You’re getting hot and sweaty. You can’t have that today, can you?”
“You’re right.” Philip handed Sven the ax and took a step away from the chopping block. He dusted off his finest navy-blue trousers and then grabbed his matching blue coat from where he’d draped it over the lean-to railing.
Sven was at his side in the next instant, helping him don the coat. Philip bit back a sigh and a rebuke. Nothing he said could deter Sven from catering to his every whim.
As Sven lifted the coat and settled it on Philip’s shoulders, Philip pulled the pocket watch from his vest and flipped open the case.
It was half past nine. Time to put into motion his carefully laid plans—the plans he’d spent yesterday afternoon initiating.
As though reading Philip’s thoughts, Sven raised a brow. “Ready?” Sven spoke in English, reserving Danish for the times when he wanted to communicate privately.
Philip patted the inner pocket of his coat and nodded. “I’m ready.” Even so, his pulse rushed forward with a mixture of anticipation and determination.
At the squeak of the front door, Philip started across the yard. Felicity was right on time.
As he neared the front porch, she was already descending in the purple gown she’d worn the afternoon that he’d taken her portrait and that he’d asked her to wear again today. Her hair, in all its fiery glory, was coiled into the chignon that showed off her neck, just the way he liked it.
He bounded the last few steps and offered her his arm gallantly. “My lady.” He bowed with a flourish. “You look as ravishing as always.”