The Royal Elite: Mattias (22 page)

Annoyed and perturbed, he poured himself another drink.

It wouldn't be Australia that he departed for in the coming hours, but the familiar landscape of Latvala.

Three weeks later.

Mattias took the steps to Sander's private upstairs office in pairs. Kallaster castle, located on an island not far off the coast of Latvala, was home to his brother the King. Sporting a more medieval design than some of the other castles in the country, with stone steps, stone walls and heavy beams across many of the ceilings, it was nevertheless in good condition and well cared for now that Sander and his wife, Chey, had moved back here to live.

Entering after a quick knock on the door, Mattias stepped in and paused at the sight that greeted him. Sander, blonde where Mattias was dark, stood near the window with his newborn swaddled in his arms. A tiny boy, wrapped in a baby blue blanket. Rocking one foot to the other, Sander had been crooning quietly, only stopping at the interruption from Mattias.

“Thanks for coming so quick,” Sander said.

“Of course.” Mattias closed the door behind him. Although he'd spent a lot of time with his nephew, this was the first Mattias had seen Sander alone with his son, looking more content than Mattias could remember. The size disparity between the two was striking: a broad, muscular man in linen and leather, and a newborn whose face was the only thing peeking from the flaps of the blanket.

“Listen, I appreciate all you've been doing behind the scenes here since you came back. It's been a huge help,” Sander said, resuming a slight sway.

Mattias frowned, leaning a hip against the edge of Sander's large desk. He was still somewhat distracted by the sight of Sander with a baby. Or maybe it was the serenity he detected, something Sander lost when he stepped back into the role of King to deal with the lasting effects of the crisis their other brother, Paavo, had wrought while Mattias was away.

“I wouldn't be anywhere else when you need me.” Even if he had been, by an ill-timed stroke of fate. In the last weeks, Mattias had traveled to the back country, working with the Generals in their army to restore peace.

“I know. But I need you somewhere else right now. There's an event in London I'd like you to attend in my place. Typical gala at a country estate for three days. Think you can cover it for me?” Sander asked.

The last thing Mattias wanted to do was mix and mingle and pretend that he was in the mood to be there. He wasn't. Talking politics and business while his mind was a million miles away would be testing the limits of his ability to be cordial, a trait he was known for among the elite. Still. This was a necessary part of being in a ruling family, a sacrifice they all made. Sander had been through a lot in the last year, especially the last few months, and Mattias couldn't say no.

“Sure, don't worry about it,” Mattias said, hoping he sounded convincing.

“Thanks. You want to hold him?” Sander asked, walking closer with the baby.

“I—yes, I'll hold him.” Mattias extended his hands, one to support Elias's head, the other to support his body. He was so little. Bringing the newborn closer after a careful transfer from Sander, Mattias tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and made a loose circuit of the office. He bent his head to press a gentle kiss to his nephew's temple, marveling in the baby scent that the women always coo'd over.

“So, Leander told me about Alannah,” Sander said, perching on the edge of his desk.

Mattias decided Leander needed to have his face rearranged just a little. “Really.”

“Really. What's going on? You haven't talked about it since you've been back.”

“There's nothing to talk about.”

“That's not what your surly demeanor suggests,” Sander pointed out.

“I'm not surly,” Mattias said with a scoff.

“Yes, you are. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. She's the Astbury heiress, a little quirky, sharp tongued.”

“Mattias.”

He glanced across Sander's office and used the nickname favored by Sander's siblings. “Dare.”

“I know there's more to it than that.”

“I refused to confirm details about the Royal Elite. Refused to give up the names of my brethren. She witnessed enough to know that
something
is going on, and that I'm probably a part of it. I think she blames me for us going nowhere because I chose my secrets over her—and she's not wrong. I made a conscious choice that night, decided then and there that I wouldn't sacrifice the group for a woman. Although she made a choice, too. She chose to walk away instead of turning the other cheek. If anything, she probably wants to punch me in the mouth or something equally damaging.” Mattias hadn't heard from Alannah since their separation, and didn't expect to.

“I knew about that part,” Sander admitted. “It doesn't explain the change in you since you've returned, though.”

Mattias rocked Elias in his arms, a gentle motion meant to keep the baby asleep. “I might have been interested if there had been more time. There wasn't, and as I mentioned, she's probably feeling volatile where I'm concerned right now.”

“Hey, you never know. I tackled Chey off a horse, 'forgot' to tell her I was really the heir to the throne, and made her so mad she slapped me. Yet here we are, blissfully married.”

Laughing quietly, Mattias arched his brows. “Well, now that you mention it, you two
did
have a rocky start.”

“To say the least,” Sander admitted. Then he added, “Anyway, I was just curious. You'll need to leave later this evening for London. The gala starts tomorrow night.”

“Thanks for the short notice,” Mattias retorted, giving Sander a dry look. Walking the baby back to his brother, Mattias laid Elias with gentle care into Sander's arms and bent to give the baby one more kiss.

“You're always welcome. Don't be a grump the whole time.” Sander smiled a tired smile and straightened from his lean.

“I'll try not to.” Mattias, amused, departed Sander's office. Once he was in the hall alone, he exhaled and raked a hand through his hair.

Time to scare up his game face and prepare to suffer through a party he didn't want to attend.

Battersby Hall, home to real estate baron Mister Edmund Battersby, was a vision of white. From the facade, to the eight columns lining the front, to the eight white lion statues in marble perched along the broad porch. Manicured green hedges provided a spot of color, along with bursts of flowers planted just so in rows on either side of the steps. Even Battersby's security were dressed in white: suits, ties, and white polished shoes.

Mattias exited his limousine when it pulled to a stop before the entrance, not content to wait on the driver to get his door. Leaving his luggage to the staff, he ascended to the porch and, after a cordial greeting from two guards, entered through the double doors they opened. He paused in the foyer under an arching dome, barely noticing the marble floors, vases of flowers and the intricate chandelier hanging overhead. He'd been in a hundred mansions like this, with affluent décor as far as the eye could see.

Voices from an immense archway to his right drew Mattias there. The gala didn't officially begin until tomorrow evening, but he knew he would be expected to mingle beforehand. Running a hand down his suit coat, he straightened the already straight garment, checked the buttons with his fingers, and left his personal bodyguards behind. The men would loiter in the foyer, checking on him periodically with discreet glances past the doors.

The great hall, much like the rest of the mansion, wore white as its main color. Walls, ceiling, floors. More flower arrangements added spots of bright color in corners, near a side bar and at two double french doors leading to a terrace. Mattias immersed himself in the small crowd, obtaining a drink from waitstaff along the way. He greeted his host, Mister Battersby, and engaged in conversation with several prominent business men who had been after him and Sander for some time to negotiate import-export options with their country.

Several times, one or the other had to bring him back to the subject at hand when his mind wandered and they caught him staring into the distance. Mattias assured them that he would bring up their new proposals when he sat down with Sander next, which seemed to appease them. Breaking away after a time, he turned down four offers to dance from women who approached while he circled the room, too restless to stand still for long. He knew he shouldn't say no, that it was polite to give them the dance they wanted. Usually, he did. Tonight, he was in no mood to fend off coy glances and dodge subtle invitations to visit their rooms.

An hour later, unable to focus and keep up with the drone of business talk, Mattias excused himself. A staff member showed him up to his suite, a corner set of apartments suitable for a Prince. Battersby, rather old school, appointed rooms by 'class'. Royalty got the best of the best, then down the line, according to who was the most affluent. Mattias thought he could have slept in the barn tonight and cared little either way.

Noting his luggage had been delivered, he unpacked a few articles of clothing needed for tomorrow evening's ball. A suit of black, like the one he wore now, with a champagne colored vest and tie. Even these mundane tasks, often seen to by his security or house staff, couldn't distract him from thoughts of Alannah. It annoyed him that he couldn't get her off his mind. At every turn he remembered her porcelain skin, inquisitive gaze and blunt candor. He also wondered what she'd been doing with her life the past few weeks, and whether she'd thought about him at all.

Probably not without cursing him repeatedly.

The next morning, Mattias took advantage of Battersby's stables. Skipping breakfast where he would be required to continue discussions from the night before, he chose instead to ride the paths winding through the back of the property. Trees lined each side of the hard packed road, with a few fountains placed here or there for those who wanted to dismount and spend some time in the sun. Squirrels scampered over the grass and into the trees while birds trilled from the boughs. Mattias found this much more peaceful than the endless dialogue going on indoors. The constant motion and activity suited the restlessness that plagued him.

Ahead on the path, another horse and rider came into view around a bend. A woman, judging by the jaunty set of a small hat atop her head.

Great. Maybe she wouldn't know who he was, and he could ride right by with just a polite nod.

Giving his gelding a pat on his sleek black neck, Mattias guided him to the far side of the path so the oncoming rider had more than enough room to pass without incident. Chiding himself for being so unsociable of late, Mattias held his mount in check as they drew within twenty yards of each other. Something about the woman triggered his sense of familiarity, however, and his gaze lingered. When she raised a hand and swept off her hat, hair tumbling around her shoulders, Mattias sucked in a surprised breath. While her features had been indistinguishable from this distance, coupled with the shade of the hat, Mattias could never be confused about who owned that head of hair. The sun shined off the glossy strands, turning some more golden than others.

As she drew nearer, Mattias pulled his steed to a stop. Alannah, wearing a riding outfit in brown and green, also brought her mare to a halt, staring across the distance with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a frown. Her mare turned an agitated circle while Alannah fumbled with her riding hat.

Far from being the greeting he'd hoped for from her, Mattias inclined his head. What had he expected, some joyous reunion? Maybe that she would have hopped off her mare and run to him like the cliché ending in a fictional tale? He snorted at himself.

“Avoiding breakfast and yet more business conversation. You're looking well, Alannah,” he said by way of greeting. He wondered if he sounded as let-down as he felt.

Coming even with him, Alannah set her hat in front of her and gathered her hair back with her hands. Re-wrapping the band, she stared at him while she twisted the mane into a knot and secured it. Then she set the hat back on her head.

“Thank you. Had I known you were attending this obscure little ball, I would have--”

“You would have what? Not attended? Simply because I'm here?” Annoyed, Mattias finished her sentiment for her. The prickly Miss never failed to stir his ire and get under his skin.

“Well, you have to admit, it will make things awkward.” The sharp edge of her accent cut through the air. Alannah gathered the reins, never taking her eyes off Mattias.

He had half a mind to snatch her off her horse and make things
really
awkward. All her bluster and offended pride couldn't mask the glint of desire in her gaze. It resided there alongside petulant accusation, as if he was the only one to blame for their circumstance.

“Not as awkward as your inability to
just get over it.
” When was the last time he'd been so short and rude to a woman? The iron control he executed over his emotions was a source of strength and pride, and in less than three minutes, Miss Alannah Astbury managed to strip it away. His gaze dropped to the way her lips parted over a surprised gasp. Ignoring the urge to soothe the hurt, he doffed a non-existent hat and turned his gelding back to the path. By hearing alone, he tracked her mare's progress from a walk, to a trot, to a canter, heading the opposite way.

It was what she wanted, wasn't it? To be rid of his presence? Why drag the torture out for them both. Clearly, she still could not put his secrets behind them, and he was not willing to bend.

Shoulders tight with tension, Mattias guided his mount along the trail toward the stables. With the tranquility of the ride at an end, the only thing left to do was head back to his apartments and wait for the gala.

Descending the staircase later that evening, Alannah reminded herself for the hundredth time not to get distracted with Mattias. She needed to pretend he wasn't even here, and that bumping into him earlier on the trail hadn't left her breathless and unsettled. The way his black riding slacks fit snug across his thighs and how his shoulders filled out the gray button down continued to haunt her, however, and she exhaled in exasperation.