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‘It doesn’t matter,’ he’d murmured as he’d pictured Ida’s cool, blonde beauty.
‘If you have decided that you do not want Ida Lundberg to be your Princess Consort there are plenty of other suitable candidates on my list.’
‘Seriously, you have a list?’
‘Of course I have a list. You have had over a year to choose a wife, but you have made no effort to do that one simple thing.’ The Princess’s displeasure had been obvious. ‘It would not have been necessary if your brother had lived,’ she had reminded Eirik. ‘Niels would have married Princess Catalina and ascended the throne on your father’s abdication.’
If only you hadn’t suggested the skiing trip.
His mother’s unspoken accusation had evoked a familiar, eviscerating guilt in Eirik’s gut.
The truth was that Ida Lundberg would make him a perfect wife and she had made it clear when they had met at society events in the past year that she was keen to be the Princess Consort. Keener on the title than on having him as her husband, Eirik suspected cynically. Ida was renowned in European high society for her elegance and sophistication. It was impossible to imagine her swimming in a wild sea wearing a mermaid’s tail.
His gaze was drawn by some invisible force to Arielle. Her riotous red curls were constrained in a thick braid. Before leaving the cottage in Cornwall she had changed out of her sexy black dress into jeans and a fine wool jumper that moulded her firm breasts. Her dark green jumper was the same colour as her eyes, which right now were hidden behind her closed eyelids. Her long auburn eyelashes were fanned on her softly flushed cheeks and beneath her left eye was a small, barely noticeable scar.
Eirik wanted to know how she had got the scar. Hell, he wanted to know everything about her. That should have set an alarm bell ringing. He enjoyed women’s company in the bedroom, but he never allowed himself to be pinned down in a relationship. He was perplexed by his desperate need to cover Arielle’s lush red lips with his mouth and lose himself in the unguarded sensuality of her kiss. It was that wordneedthat troubled him.
His mind flew back to when they had discovered that Arielle’s studio had been ransacked. He had tried to persuade her to take the job opportunity in Fjernland, but then he’d received the phone call from his mother.
‘Has something happened?’ Arielle had been sweeping up the broken glass on the floor. She’d leaned the broom against the wall and hurried over to him. ‘You look as if you have received bad news.’
‘My father has collapsed, and I must return to Fjernland tonight.’
‘How awful. I’m so sorry.’ She had put her hand on his arm, and the gentle expression in her sea green eyes had tugged on something inside Eirik. Arielle’s livelihood had been destroyed, but she had been more concerned for him, and her compassion had shaken him.
‘I need you to come with me,’ he’d blurted out. He did not know where the words had come from. For as long as he could remember he had only cared about his brother. Since Niels had gone, the warm place in Eirik’s heart where his brother had resided had frozen over. Arielle had looked as shocked as Eirik had felt.
‘You saved my life and now it is my turn to help you,’ he’d told her. He had assured himself that obviously it was what he had meant. ‘I don’t feel responsible for you,’ he’d insisted when he’d seen the storm brewing in her eyes. ‘I will introduce you to the head of Fjernland’s Marine Research Institute, and it will be for Valdemar to decide whether to offer you a job, and for you to accept or not. The likelihood is that you and I will not meet again when I am busy with royal duties.’
It was the truth, Eirik brooded as his mind returned to the present. The minute the plane landed in Fjernland his life would no longer be his own. He would go straight to the hospital to visit his father and then to the palace, where he might manage to snatch a couple of hours’ sleep before a day of meetings with royal advisors and government ministers in his capacity as the Reigning Sovereign’s deputy. He certainly would not have time to be distracted by a flame-haired siren.
Beside him Gustav cleared his throat. ‘I was wondering what plans you have made for Miss Tremain when we arrive in Fjernland. Might I suggest that it would not be a good idea for you to be seen with her in public? No doubt there will be news reporters outside the hospital and at Sejrrig Palace.’
The private secretary was right. The information that Prince Otto was in hospital had been leaked to the press and it was likely that there would also be paparazzi photographers outside the building where Eirik owned a penthouse apartment. Not that he had considered taking Arielle there. Tempting though she was, he must put duty before his personal pleasure from now on. But she would have to stay somewhere until he could arrange for her to have an interview at the marine research institute. He could send her to a hotel, but his conscience pricked that it would be unfair to abandon her in a strange country.
He needed to take Arielle somewhere where she would not attract the attention of the press or cause gossip among the palace staff. A place that was out of the way, and with someone whose discretion he could rely on.
Catalina was the obvious solution. She understood him better than anyone and they had forged a strong bond through their shared grief for Niels. Eirik sent a text message on his phone. When he glanced at his private secretary, he saw that Gustav’s head had drooped and his chin was resting on his chest.
He had been a surly sixteen-year-old when Gustav had been appointed as his equerry. Over the years the older man had become a loyal and trusted friend, and in many ways he had been a better father than Eirik’s own father. He stood up and pressed the control panel to recline Gustav’s chair before covering him with a blanket.
He looked over at Arielle and his heart banged against his ribs as his eyes met her sea green gaze. She stretched her arms above her head, and he felt a certain part of his anatomy jerk to attention when her jumper rose up to reveal a strip of bare stomach above the waistband of her jeans.
Faen!Eirik cursed beneath his breath. He could not remember ever being so fiercely attracted to a woman. After Niels had died, he had felt bereft, and he’d lost interest in everything, including sex. Arielle had reignited his urges, but, for a man who had always been in control of himself, it was disconcerting to find that his body had a will of its own.
‘We will arrive in Fjernland in just over an hour,’ he informed her in a cool voice that he hoped disguised the fire raging inside him.
She gave a tiny yawn. ‘I don’t think Gustav approves of me.’
‘Possibly he doesn’t. He thinks you could be trouble.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Gustav knows that I find you desirable.’ Eirik decided that if he acknowledged the problem he would be able to deal with his inconvenient attraction and dismiss it.
Colour ran along Arielle’s high cheekbones. ‘You do?’
‘Don’t pretend you are unaware of what you do to me. We both feel an awareness, chemistry, whatever you want to call it.’
