Page 68 of Royally Drawn

“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 cannottakeher. She’s not an object. Yes. Iwantedher. She’s gorgeous. Everyone did.”

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

“You never let me haveonething 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 wantedthisone? 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 scurriedoff.

“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!”

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