Page 4 of Jonathon, After All

“I know,” Leo sighed, allowing her to help him out of his damp coat and shirt. “But I don’t care about my birthday or the Foundation right now. I’ve hurt Jonathon and I don’t know how long he’s been like this.”

“Like this?” Sabine asked, sounding wary. She frowned as she wound a clean bow tie around his neck and swiftly tied it. “What do you mean?”

“Did you see him?” Leo snorted wryly, bitterly. “That was not my Jonathon.”

The only thing Leo recognized was Jonathon’s face but for a moment, he had been transported back to Schönbühel. Manhattan was 6,500 kilometers from Austria but time and distance had been erased.

Schönbühel meant “beautiful hill” in German and was a fitting name for the picturesque medieval castle. Built on a bluff overlooking the Danube, the newly renovated fourteen-bedroom compound had been a gift from Leo’s cousin and soon-to-be predecessor, Maximillian von Hessen. The current Margrave had stated his desire to “retire” after his divorce and Leo—being Max’s oldest male heir—had been sent for. Max had two daughters who could have inherited but both had stated their adamant desire to remain in America as royals-in-name-only.

Leo had absolutely no desire to be a royal, but understood that the title would open numerous doors and had ambitious plans for the land he would acquire as Margrave. He also saw the toll that life as Margrave had taken on Max and his family. As a single man with three brothers to help ensure the future of the von Hessen dynasty, Leo felt it was his duty to step up and that it would be worth the sacrifice in the end.

He couldn’t do anything halfway, though, and Leo was never good at waiting. Leo finished university a year early with a DPhil in geography and environmental science, served briefly in the Armed Forces, and had set up two foundations: one to protect the North Sea’s natural habitats from traffic and pollution, and the other dedicated to educating children and teens about vanishing ecospheres across Europe and their restoration.

Saving what was left of Europe’s wilderness and protecting it for future generations was more than a passion for Leo, it was an obsession, and it had nearly killed him before he had even started. That was why they were at Schönbühel. The ulcers and migraines began shortly after his parents died but a panic attack at a recent conference in London had been a wake-up call.

For Sabine. Leo insisted he was fine and it was nothing but she had notified Max and the Foundation and it was agreed that some time off was in order. “Isn’t it breathtaking, dearest!” she had declared when their limo pulled into the courtyard and they got out to greet the staff.

She was the first friend Leo had made when he arrived at Oxford. The only other Austrian in his year, the two were immediately inseparable and Sabine became Leo’s closest confidant. A business and telecommunications savant from an older, well-respected Austrian family, Sabine Aigner was the perfect pick for Leo’s assistant and spokesperson. She had a natural gift for diplomacy that Leo lacked and the Foundation loved her.

“It’s very nice,” Leo had conceded as he took in the ancient limestone facade, the whimsical, rose and ivy-wrapped tower, and the flag-capped turrets. “Do I have to slay a dragon to escape this fairy tale or am I stuck for the whole month?”

“It’s a holiday, dearest,” she reminded him and batted her eyelashes sweetly. “We assured the Foundation that your little…episode was just a blip and that you’re capable of balance and boundaries when it comes to your responsibilities and your personal life.”

“What am I going to do for a month, Sabine? If the Foundation has reservations now, they definitely will once I’ve started climbing the walls and flinging things,” he predicted, making her snicker.

“I hear the library is impressive and extensive. Start there,” she suggested. Sabine was just about to leave Leo to inspect their sleeping arrangements and oversee the delivery of their luggage when she turned and held up a finger. “You may encounter a dragon, though. I’ve been warned that the other guests have arrived and Ms. Muriel Hormsby has a reputation for being difficult. You might want to avoid her,” she added and Leo grunted dismissively as he climbed the front steps and headed inside.

“I remember. She was a friend of my late uncle’s,” Leo said and waved her off. “I’m certain I can handle an elderly woman from Manhattan.”

Leo was bluffing because his head ached and he was so tired, a toddler from Manhattan could have bested him. He reasoned that he’d be safe from both toddlers and elderly women in the library so he went to hide there until his room was ready.

The library was indeed impressive and extensive with large fireplaces at both ends of the and numerous nooks and alcoves with armchairs and sofas to lounge in. Curious about the estate’s agricultural history, Leo gravitated toward the collection of almanacs and ledgers. He found the oldest ledger and had discovered what looked like the beginning of a blight when a door opened across the library.

Leo had been immediately captivated when an ethereal young man with pale blond hair tiptoed into the room, silently easing the door shut behind him. He hadn’t noticed Leo, reclining in an armchair by the fireplace, the ancient ledger on his lap. But Leo had been too startled—transfixed—to say anything as he watched his unexpected visitor perusing the shelves.

Leo hadn’t forgotten that he had guests from America. The visit had been planned several months before he’d taken possession. It would have been churlish to upend those plans on his behalf, so Leo had insisted they could share the castle. He had assumed that they wouldn’t notice each other’s presence, given the size of the property. And he had also assumed that “an old friend” of his late uncle and her nephew wouldn’t be of any great interest. Or under the age of sixty.

He had imagined an elderly matron and a bland companion, sitting on one of the terraces under lap blankets and enjoying long naps in the conservatory. Instead, a glowing vision had wandered into Leo’s new sanctuary dressed in a simple white T-shirt, tattered, paint-splattered jeans, and white Converse.

Leo remained still so as not to disturb him, enthralled as the young man tapped spines and whispered titles—mostly in German—to himself. He wasn’t as tall as Leo, but he was willowy with a long, elegant neck and moved around the room like he was being carried by the breeze. His hair was neatly trimmed and swept back, revealing an alert, angular face with soft green eyes.

He drifted past a row of windows and turned toward the fireplace, whispering a startled “Fuck!” when he finally noticed Leo.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” Leo asked as he stood and held out his hand. “I’ve been getting acquainted with the collection here and I think I understand the layout,” he said with an encouraging smile. The younger man blushed, his teeth digging into his plump lower lip as he took a few steps closer and accepted Leo’s hand. “Leo von Hessen,” he said, eliciting another gasped “Fuck!” as the other man bent into an awkward bow.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude. The housekeeper said it was cool and I needed a break from my aunt before I pushed her out of a window or over a balcony. There are so many and it’s so tempting,” he admitted in a whisper, catching Leo off-guard again.

He bit down on his lips before he laughed, humming seriously as they shook hands. “You’re welcome to hide wherever you wish. And you are?”

“Right! Sorry! Jonathon Hawthorne. I’m here with my Aunt Muriel,” he said in a rush. “She’s alright, actually, she just doesn’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks. Or wants. She kind of assumes she knows what’s best for everyone and ignores all good sense and logic,” he explained wearily.

“Well.” Leo widened his eyes dramatically. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll do my best to stay out of her way,” he said, making Jonathon laugh.

The sound delighted Leo, so light and warm like sitting in the sun. With three younger brothers, Leo was used to laughter. It was often at his expense after a prank or a punchline he rarely got. He still wondered if his parents had withheld whatever genes it was that decided one’s sense of humor and wit and had given his share to Theo.

Theo was his best and most-trusted friend, but whatever charm and charisma Leo lacked, Theo had in excess. They were like twins, they were so close, but Leo openly begrudged his brother’s effortless swagger and sense of humor.

Leo liked the sound of Jonathon’s laughter, though. “I hope she’s not an avid reader,” he said and was rewarded with another laugh as Jonathon shook his head.

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