Page 34 of Royally Drawn (Resplendent Royals #3)

Fisticuffs

KEIR

“ I think Peder wants everyone to go out on the boat tomorrow,” Mamma said, setting a block of gruyere down on the kitchen island. “He did miss everyone.”

I groaned. “Must we all go?”

“Keir, you love to sail. It would mean a lot.”

I didn’t mind sailing with Peder but hoped to see Ingrid tomorrow. I wanted to go out with Cici and Isak and bring her along. She was staying with my aunt and uncle and attached to my girl cousins at the hip with wedding preparations. I was desperate to see her. One week felt like a fucking year.

“I made plans. I was hoping to go out with Cici and Isak.”

“Why not us? What does it matter? Are we not good enough?”

“Nei, Mamma. Just… I was hoping to catch up with them.

I sliced the gruyere, laying it gently on the charcuterie board that covered the kitchen island—enough for everyone coming and many more. Could we have hired a chef for the evening? Yes. Would our mother have allowed it? No. She and Peder liked to keep things “normal.” They lived on the family farm outside of Oslo—a summer home turned escape—and relished hosting everyone low-key on Friday nights like tonight. We were a week from the main event, and the entire family was blowing off steam before it got too wild.

Peder entered, kissing Mamma on the cheek.

In Norsk, he said, “They have arrived—all two dozen of them.”

“I am working on getting this out fast, I promise,” I responded.

“It’s okay. They are early .”

“They are British. Most of them. Remember that,” Mamma reminded him kindly.

Norwegians were on time—not early. To arrive early, as Brits and Americans were prone to do, was to inconvenience your hosts. Where I was inclined to bend over backwards to at least bring out an expensive tin of biscuits I kept in case of an emergency, guests were SOL. They only got fed when they were told they would be. Coming to someone’s house did not expressly guarantee food. It was anathema to Brits.

“Oh my God, I brought so much wine—too much wine per Nat!”

My Aunt Kiersten burst into the kitchen. In a few moments, I spotted Uncle Olav dragging in an entire case of wine.

“I told you even before she did!” Olav said.

The two of them almost always spoke in English with one another. Unless they were arguing, they never spoke the native language despite Aunt Kiersten’s impressive fluency.

“It won’t go to waste,” Mamma said in Norsk.

Peder and my mother defaulted to his mother tongue. I blamed that on my Norwegian grandmother. After Dad died, we moved in with her, and she only spoke her mother tongue. The twins still defaulted to Norsk when they could out of habit—marked by their rearing in Norway. At five, we attended a public engagement where the twins spoke in Norsk to one another. The press tore into our mother over it.

“Keir, my God, you look thin. How are you?” Aunt Kiersten gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I think I weigh the same as last time,” I said.

“And no plus one?”

Peder snickered. “Ask any of the boys that question. It will be a sad result.”

“No,” I said. “I am seeing someone, but she’s already invited. ”

The four of them turned.

“And?” Uncle Olav was a serious gossip. He wanted to know. “Well, who is she? Do we know her?”

I grimaced. “I think you know her, yes.”

“Why?” Aunt Kiersten looked elated.

“We aren’t dating. We’re just… getting to know one another. I was hoping to go out with Cici and Isak tomorrow. I didn’t know you planned to go, Peder.”

“Oh, we’re all going together with them,” Peder said. “It’s quite alright.”

Uncle Olav considered who would be going out on their sailing yacht. I saw the wheels turning. I nervously plated cheese, trying not to think about it.

“It’s got to be a bridesmaid,” he said. “But given you are related to half of them?—”

“Only Betty and Leah,” Kiersten said. “That leaves Cici’s friends and…”

“Oh, it’s Edina. Makes sense,” Olav said.

“Not this time, no,” I answered.

“There was a first time?” Peder asked.

“I’d… rather not get into it. She’s been talking to an Aussie she met in Aruba. It’s not her,” I said.

“Katrine will love that,” my aunt laughed. “She did that to herself by marrying a celebrity. Edina would take after her.”

“It’s the Deschamps girl?” Uncle Olav asked. “Oh, she’s too young for you. No. I don’t much like it.”

I cringed internally and tried not to show my disappointment.

Aunt Kiersten gave her husband an audible slap on the arm. “Darling, you should talk. TEN YEARS. Ten years. And I was twenty-one when it started. We’ve been married for thirty-odd years. What’s the harm?”

“She’s what? Twenty-five?” Mamma asked.

“She’s twenty-one,” Uncle Olav said. “We attended her twenty-first birthday shindig. Is that how you met?”

His wife gave him a look that put fear into my heart. As always, he was digging a hole .

“No,” I said. I was deployed… We met on the yacht trip. She’s clever, brave, and has a sick sense of humour. What’s not to like?”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure that is all,” Uncle Olav razzed. “She’s hard on the eyes, isn’t she.”

Aunt Kiersten shot him another look. Just keep digging .

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know there was anything to say. Moreover, Lars has been upset with me—but mostly her—as he developed a crush she did not return.”

“Yes,” Peder sighed. “He will be upset. I trust you all are grown enough to handle it.”

“I hope so, too. You cannot make a woman like you if she doesn’t,” Kiersten said.

“I don’t know. Your brother certainly tried until I gave in,” Mamma laughed. His persistence paid off.”

I smiled. They had not gotten on. Mamma was the wedding planner, and Dad was the groom's brother. She thought he was an absolute nightmare sent to ruin her life and upend everything in the lakeshore town where my Uncle George was marrying my Uncle Patrick. Mamma eventually fell for my father. They couldn’t have been more different, and he couldn’t have loved her more.

“I will tell Lars first,” I said. “That was the plan. I don’t want to make it so awkward. Betty has already given him a tongue-lashing about talking to her friend like that, and… it’s a mess. I don’t want to put Lars in an awkward spot, but I like Ingrid.”

“I am glad you do. She’s such a nice girl,” Aunt Kiersten said. “And you’re both adrenaline junkies. She’d be bored otherwise.”

“True.”

As I helped the parents with the charcuterie board, I spied Lars helming the barbecue with Win. It was time to take my licks and get this over with. I approached with a plate to suit, hoping food might soften him like a ripe cheese.

“I brought you all some food.”

“Niiiiice,” Win said.

“Can I chat with Lars alone?” I asked.

“Sure, fine,” Win said. “But you gotta help.”

I took the grill spatula from his hand, assuming the task of flipping burgers. Win walked off with half the plate like a wandering toddler.

“No manners to this day,” I sighed.

“Eh, it’s family. What’s on your mind?”

“We sail tomorrow,” I said.

“And?”

“And… I’m… I just wanted to say what I needed before you are left in the dark and feel upset.”

“What?” Lars asked, confused.

I flipped a burger. “I’m seeing Ingrid. And I didn’t want to blindside?—”

“You’re seeing Ingrid? Princess Ingrid? Cici’s friend?”

“Yes,” I answered. “That Ingrid.”

“Since when?”

“Since the trip.”

“And how?”

“We hung out at Badminton and then last weekend.”

“Define hang out.”

I didn’t think he wanted an answer to that. “I played groom for her and Cici. We saw each other. She stayed with Duncan and me in Wales.”

“So, you’re fucking her?” Lars asked. “I fucking knew it!”

Well, this could have gone better.

Lars threw his tongs on the table beside the barbecue and paced, livid about what I said. I had to take my lumps and let him get it out. He was hurt. I’d not ignored that he was interested in Ingrid, even if it was ultimately her choice.

“You saw her, you wanted her, and you took her!”

“Lars, I cannot take her. She’s not an object. Yes. I wanted her. She’s gorgeous. Everyone did.”

Everyone stopped and stared. Things went from bad to worst.

“You never let me have one thing for myself. I want something, and you steal it. Always and forever, this is what you do!”

Staring in confusion, the Brits didn’t understand our words. Meanwhile, our gestures said it all .

“I didn’t steal her. She’s not an ‘it’. She is a woman who likes me. I like her.”

“You’ll discard her as soon as you bore of her, and you know I won’t take your sloppy seconds.”

“Sloppy seconds” had no Norwegian translation. Leah walked closer, face drawn and jaw tight. She got what this was about.

“She would never be sloppy seconds! Good God, Lars! She’s not a used car. She doesn’t lose value because I slept with her. She’s just a woman—like any other woman.”

“Which is why you wanted this one? You could have had any boring, basic, fake girl, and you chose her? Why? Because I wanted her. And now she’s ruined!”

“Lars!” I heard Mamma’s voice sharp behind me. “Women are not objects. I won’t have you talk like that about the girl. She’s a nice girl and a good friend to Betty and Cici.”

Lars ignored her, moving closer to me.

“The burgers are burning. I need to turn them,” I said.

“Fuck the goddamn burgers! You don’t ever give a flying fuck because nothing ever sticks to you. You get whatever you want. You think Duncan is entitled, but you’re worse—far worse!”

“And you’re a fucking crybaby who thinks he has a right to anything he sees first. Given how you speak about women, I’m not surprised she finds you unfuckable.”

Unfuckable was another word you couldn’t translate. The Brits got little context to our argument beyond the litany of swears we uttered.

Lars glowered and backed down. I returned my attention to the burgers. As I turned back to see if he was okay, Lars sucker punched me square on the jaw.

“What the actual fuck?”

I saw red, pushing him so hard he fell back. But before I could beat the ever-loving shit out of his smug face, I was pulled off him by the bull I never fancied tangling with.

“Keir Robert, I expected better from you!” Aunt Natalie roared.

She turned to Lars. “And you. If I were younger, I’d have handed you your ass myself. Get up! Go!”

Lars, frightened, stood and scurried off.

“You two are acting like children. Over what? A girl, Keir? Why?”

“Queen Alexandra’s sister, Ingrid, and I met at Cici’s hen party. We’ve been… seeing one another since she landed in the UK, and… Lars claims to have seen her first. But she doesn’t like him. She likes me. And what does it matter? She’s not an object, and I won’t apologise. I should have beat him to a pulp for talking about her like that!”

“Peder is handling it,” Mamma said, examining the damage. Can someone get me some ice?”

“I can!” Betty called out, ever-helpful.

Aunt Natalie said no more. She didn’t come back or admonish me further. I wish she had. I wish she’d said anything. I sat down for dinner with an aching jaw, quiet. Lars sat on the complete other side of the table, glaring at me. Auntie Nat ignored me. Everyone acted as if it hadn’t happened. I sensed Cici wanted to strangle me, but getting into a verbal row wasn’t her style.

After dinner, I loaded the dishwashers and the butler’s pantry in the kitchen. My aunt found me about to start the final load.

“You are trying to make up for it,” she sighed.

“I didn’t punch him.”

She leaned against the doorframe, assessing me. “You would have maimed him if I hadn’t stopped you.”

It was true. I was stronger than Lars and much better at fighting. I knew better than to throw him around like that.

“I… he called her sloppy seconds. He implied I ‘ruined her’, which meant a lot because…”

I didn’t want to say I suspected he thought she was probably a virgin when the thought never occurred to me. And, if true, he now saw her as less attractive—never mind that he didn’t want to touch her now.

“It doesn’t matter. He… he cannot say things like that about her.”

“You feel very strongly about her?”

I shrugged.

“Enough for fisticuffs?”

“Yes, of course. She’s… I dunno. She gets me. She’s brave, bold, and funny. I adore her. I cannot help it. It’s as if I am drawn to her by this pull. There is something I cannot quite describe. And it frightens me. ”

“Why? It sounds like love, quite frankly.”

I let my guard down, knowing my aunt wouldn’t judge me.

“Of course, we both are keen to keep this casual—not that I do not care for her or want her for me—because I just… you understand this life. She wants something stable, I’m sure.”

“She’s twenty-one. She has no clue what she wants.”

“How do you know? She seems a million years older than all of Betty’s other friends. But you’re right. It’s a mess. I should break it off.”

“That is not what I meant. You and I are too alike, sweetheart. We both push people away. We shut down and focus on work, but what does it get you? Heartache. Because someday, you will want a person to come home to. And why are you fighting it if she’s good for you?”

“You just said she’s too young to know what she wants!”

“I implied that nothing was set in stone and that life is wild. She’s young, but she’s been through a lot. Take it from me. I had a hookup with a man at a party at twenty-one and had no idea what I wanted, Keir. And you know where he is now?”

I shook my head.

“He’s in the living room chatting with everyone. Because when we found each other again, it was instant chemistry. I couldn’t avoid him. He took up all my mental energy, and I love him madly. It’s… if it is meant to be, it will be. You don’t need to rush in to label it, but calling it off is cruel to both of you, Keir.”

“It probably doesn’t matter,” I said.

“What? You don’t like her enough to say all those wonderful things about her? Not enough to play house all weekend in Wales?”

“Wait a minute—” I groaned. “Fucking Duncan!”

“He likes her, so give him a break,” Aunt Natalie said. “He thinks you two are cute together—his words—and she’s a laugh. I find her adorable and incredibly talented. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for some very horse-mad babies in the family! But, alas, we’re not going to discuss that. Duncan says you look at her like she’s a steak. I’d have to agree, having spent an entire weekend with your uncle saying, ‘I think Keir likes Ingrid’. He’s usually right about such things.”

“He is? ”

“He predicted Lucy would end up with Winston. I thought he was mad—we all did, but now they have four kids, so…”

I snickered. “Good point. I am not on board with any discussion of children. Please, God, never speak of it again. However, I do very much like her. I’ve never felt any attraction like I do to her.”

“It’s love. Love is wild. Mark my words.”