Page 71 of The Unlikely Pair

“Hey, do I need to remind you who is in government right now?” he asks.

“Need I remind you of the impending election?”

“Do you think that’s why Kade and his friends did this? To interfere with our election?” Toby’s voice is suddenly serious.

“I confess, I’m at a loss,” I admit honestly. “I’ve spent the last few days running through all the permutations of why this happened, but I haven’t reached any conclusions.”

What is the motive behind our current predicament? Was the plane crash part of the plan or an unexpected development?Before we crashed, where was Kade taking us? Did the terrorists target me directly? Is it because we’re leading in the polls and they want to change that?

But what foreign nation would benefit from trying to prevent the Conservatives from coming to power or me from becoming the prime minister?

“I can’t figure it out either,” Toby says. “Oliver always asks me for my analysis of any situation, and I pride myself on being able to give a good answer, but I’m at a loss on this.”

“Well, if you were advising Oliver Hartwell on strategy, I’m not sure that is something you should be bragging about.”

“Hey, Oliver’s ended up the Prince Consort, hasn’t he? He’s deliriously happy.”

“And is that what you think the aim of life is? To be happy?” I ask skeptically.

Toby is silent for a long time.

“For some people,” he says finally.

This conversation is unsettling. Whispered conversations with Toby in the dark feel dangerous at the moment.

“You better get some sleep,” I say stiffly. “I’ll be waking you up in four hours, so make the most of it.”

Toby rolls over, nestling back in my arms.

I close my eyes for a second, willing myself not to react to the feel of him pressed against me. It’s easier now that he’s given me something else to ponder.

But while I manage to stave off any sexual thoughts, I can’t help noticing how pleasant it is to hold someone as they relax and drift off into slumber.

Funny how I now know the intimate signs of Toby Webley falling asleep. His body will relax, and then just as he’s drifting off, he’ll suddenly tense again, his body twitching like he’s been electrocuted before he drifts off into sleep.

I’ve never had this. I’ve never held someone as they’ve lost consciousness. And it strikes me what a sign of trust this is. Toby Webley, who I’m sure a few days ago wouldn’t have trusted me in any other situation, trusts me now in this. Though I know it’s only because heat is necessary to keep him alive, and I’m his most reliable source out here.

He’s such a complex man. Genial and outgoing, but with Toby, I’ve always sensed more percolating beneath the surface than he lets most people see. He uses that charm and biting wit of his as a defense mechanism to keep people away.

I lie there pondering Toby’s words about Oliver Hartwell.

I couldn’t fathom Oliver Hartwell’s decision to stand down as prime minister. I’d naturally rejoiced in it because he was popular with the public and the newly selected Labour leader, Rosalia Norsman, doesn’t have Oliver’s charisma and charm.

On a logistic level, I understand why he was compelled to make the decision. It was not feasible for the British prime minister and the Prince of Wales to be in a relationship, given the differing and conflicting roles of government and the royal family in the British constitutional monarchy.

But it still didn’t mean I understood the decision. To relinquish his place in history as the British prime minister, his ability to shape the future of our nation, for a mere ceremonial role? Why had he done it? And yes, he’d gone on to marry Prince Callum, and Toby was right. Every time I saw Oliver in any capacity, he did seem deliriously content and far more relaxed than he’d ever been in politics.

But I’d been raised to believe that nothing was more important than fulfilling my destiny to have the name Matheson carved on the annuals of Westminster. My own individual wants and desires were immaterial. What mattered was completing the mission started by my grandfather renouncing his title after the Peerage Act.

I’m tantalizingly close. I’m the leader of the Conservative Party. We’re leading in the polls with an election on the horizon. The state of the global economy, the challenges faced by our nation, have definitely rendered the electorate in the mood for change.

All I have to do is survive the Scandinavian wilderness and return to civilization to fulfill my destiny.

Toby stirs, and I instinctively tighten my arms around him. I’m going to make it back to civilization, and Toby Webley will too. I shall make sure of it.

There’s a noise in the distance, a small, rustling sound.

I strain to listen.