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She must have dozed off, and stirred when Maks got up and padded over to the door. Arielle heard a noise from outside and was instantly on her guard. There had been many nights at the cliff-top cottage when she’d heard strangers’ voices downstairs, and she had hidden beneath the bed covers. ‘Keep your nose out of my business,’ her father had told her, the only time she’d dared to ask him who the visitors were. Automatically she lifted her hand and traced the small scar beneath her left eye.
The door handle began to turn. Heart thumping with fear, she realised that she might need to defend herself and grabbed the fire tongs. The door opened and Maks gave a delighted bark when Eirik walked into the cabin. He smelled of frosty air and sandalwood cologne, and Arielle melted at the sight of him, looking utterly devastating in black jeans and a thick cream sweater.
She dropped the tongs so that she wasn’t tempted to use them on him. Her pulse pounded with anger and adrenalin as Eirik strolled towards her. His lazy smile was the bitter end, as was his murmured greeting, ‘Hey, baby.’
‘You’ve got a nerve,’ she told him heatedly.
His brows lifted. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘The fact that you have to ask if there’s a problem makes the problem even worse.’ The words tumbled from her lips as her temper exploded.
He held up his hand. ‘If we are going to have a disagreement, can I just say that I will find it impossible to argue with you while you remind me of a fluffy chick?’
‘Damn you, Eirik,’ she choked out, fighting her way out of the cashmere blanket. ‘You had no right to order your servant to dump me in the middle of nowhere.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I asked Gustav to bring you to the cabin—’
‘But you didn’t ask me if I wanted to visit your mountain retreat,’ Arielle cut him off.
He frowned. ‘I wasn’t sure you would agree to come.’
‘So you had me kidnapped and brought here against my will.’
‘Faen!That’s a little dramatic.’ Eirik ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Listen—’
‘No.’ She marched over to him and poked her finger in his chest. Hard. ‘You listen to me.’ She was determined never to be voiceless again, and she refused to be cowed by the angry glitter in Eirik’s eyes.
‘You made an arbitrary decision without consulting me, and without considering the impact on my career. It must look terrible that I failed to show up at the marine research institute today. I tried calling Valdemar to explain why I wasn’t at work, but I couldn’t get a phone signal.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘Valdemar has enough to worry about with Frida’s pregnancy. He needs to know that he can rely on me to do my job.’
‘He would not have expected you at work because today is a national holiday,’ Eirik said calmly.
‘Oh.’ Arielle remembered that Valdemar had said the day after the masquerade ball was a national holiday, and she could enjoy a couple of glasses of champagne at the party as she wouldn’t have to get up early for work.
‘Tomorrow is the weekend, and Monday is also a national holiday. I managed to clear my diary so that we can spend a couple of days together.’ Eirik grimaced. ‘I’d intended to meet you at the cabin much earlier, but my mother had organised a surprise birthday dinner for me, and I couldn’t get away.’
Arielle bit her lip. ‘I’d forgotten about your birthday. But it doesn’t change the fact that you took away my choice of if I wanted to see you again. You think you can do as you please because you are a prince, and I am nobody.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t think you are nobody.’
‘It’s how you make me feel. You had me smuggled out of the palace and brought to your remote mountain hideaway. I guess it’s because you think I am only good enough for a secret romp. Was Ida Lundberg at your birthday dinner?’ Jealousy twisted in Arielle’s stomach.
Eirik strode over to a cabinet and took out a bottle of malt whisky. He half filled two glasses and came back to hand her one. Arielle took a sip of the drink and coughed as the fiery spirit hit the back of her throat.
‘No, Ida wasn’t there,’ he said. ‘My mother’s latest selection of women who could be my wife included an English debutante. As a matter of fact, Lady Laura Hammett comes from your part of the world. Her father has a country house and estate near Truro.’
‘Earl Hammett owns a large chunk of Cornwall,’ Arielle muttered. ‘I’m sure Lady Laura would be a perfect wife and Princess Consort for you.’
Eirik lifted his glass to his lips and gulped down the whisky as if he needed it. ‘I’m not interested in Laura or any other woman.’ His rough voice sent a prickle across Arielle’s skin. Her heart started to pound when he took her glass out of her fingers and set it down next to his on the coffee table. ‘I am only interested in you.’
He slid his hand round to her nape and pulled her towards him. Her sensible self knew she should try to resist his potency, but her body responded to him of its own accord and the tingle in her nipples arced down to the molten place between her thighs.
‘I thought one night with you would be enough, but I was wrong.’ There was frustration in his voice. ‘We are highly sexually compatible. That’s all this is.’ He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. ‘But I can’t look at another woman, let alone choose a wife, while I am hungry for you.’
Eirik’s admission that he desired her more than any of the sophisticated socialites his mother had lined up as his prospective bride made Arielle’s heart flip. He wanted to spend the weekend with her, and she couldn’t deny it was what she wanted too. She could not stop thinking about how he had made love to her with fierce passion coupled with infinite patience that had allowed her to explore her sensuality.
When he lowered his head so that his mouth was centimetres away from hers, she waited in anticipation for his kiss. But he pulled back, and maybe her disappointment showed on her face because he said gruffly, ‘Before we take this any further, I must warn you not to fall in love with me.’
Did he think she was that much of a fool? Arielle took a deep breath and counted to ten. ‘You are going to need a bigger cabin for your ego.’
