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‘I’d rather not. I don’t want to cause trouble between you and your mother.’
Eirik swore. ‘Tell me.’
She sighed. ‘The Princess knew about our affair and disapproved of me, especially when she found out about my father. She...advised me to break off my relationship with you and leave Fjernland and threatened to tell you about my father if I didn’t. She has your best interests at heart,’ Arielle said hurriedly when Eirik’s expression turned thunderous. ‘It is your duty to marry a woman who is suitable to be your Princess Consort. I was only ever a distraction.’
He stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Seeing her for what she was, Arielle thought bleakly. A nobody. There was a knock on the door, and Eirik’s private secretary entered the room.
‘Sir, I have made all the arrangements you asked for, and you are expected at Sejrrig Place for a meeting with His Serene Highness, Prince Otto. The helicopter is ready for you.’
‘Gustav will drive you to the Winter Palace,’ Eirik told her. ‘I want you to stay there until I am free to come to you, and then we will talk about where we go from here. There are things I need to do first,’ he said grimly.
He stepped closer to Arielle, and his eyes blazed into hers. ‘Promise you will wait for me.’
She wanted to touch his face, kiss him one last time. Unable to lie to him, she gave a slight dip of her head. Eirik seemed to want to say something else, but then he exhaled heavily and strode out of the room.
Gustav escorted her out of the building via a back door to avoid the press. ‘I need to collect some things from my flat,’ Arielle told him when he held the car door open for her.
At the marine research institute, she left her resignation letter on Valdemar’s desk. She had packed before going to the National Council’s assembly and when she emerged from the apartment block carrying her suitcase, Gustav frowned.
‘You love Eirik, don’t you?’ Arielle asked him.
Gustav looked startled for a moment before he nodded. ‘I have served the Prince since he was a youth.’
‘I love him,’ she said softly. ‘That’s why I need you to take me to the airport. Eirik will be better off without me.’
‘I am not sure the Prince will agree.’
‘But you know I am right. Eirik must fulfil his destiny for his sake as well as for the people of Fjernland.’
The story had made the international news sites and was the headline on most of Fjernland’s newspapers. Leaning back in his seat in the helicopter that was taking him to the Winter Place, Eirik grimaced when he flicked through some advanced copies of the next day’s publications. Most had reprinted accounts of Gerran Rowse’s trial three years ago. The details of the murder of a young police constable were harrowing. Rowse was a vile individual. In an interview with a neighbour who lived in the Cornish village of Penash, Arielle’s father was described as a cruel and violent man.
Eirik thought of the scar on Arielle’s face and rage swept through him. Nothing would ever hurt her again. It was his personal mission to make sure of it. She’d be upset if she saw the newspapers, but he would insist that no copies were brought into the Winter Palace. Better still he would take her to his cabin in the mountains, and he planned to keep her distracted in his bed until the story about her father had died down.
Anticipation tugged in his loins. When he made love to her it felt as if they were the only two people in the universe. He had stopped wondering when his desire for her would fade and accepted that he would always want her. And she wanted him too. His nostrils flared as he recalled in erotic detail how she had made love to him with sensual abandon the previous night at the penthouse.
Eirik frowned when he remembered that Arielle had said she was just a distraction for him. Maybe at first it had been true, he acknowledged. He had been under pressure to find a wife and Arielle had been a breath of fresh air compared to the refined young women with pedigrees a mile long his mother had thrown at him.
His eyes narrowed as he thought of his recent, tense conversation with Princess Hulda. He had made it clear to his mother that he would not tolerate her interference in his life, and that if and when he married it would not be because of duty. There was only one reason why two people should marry. Eirik understood that now. But for so long he had convinced himself that he did not need or want emotional attachments.
Following the death of his brother—the only person he had loved with all his heart—a loveless marriage had seemed appealing. He’d decided that he did not want to risk the pain of loving someone again. But a life without risk was dull and grey. He pictured Arielle’s vibrant red curls and her sea green eyes. Her smile, and her gentle voice that was a song inside his head. She brought colour and light into his life. The question in his mind was, what was he going to do about her?
The helicopter circled above the Winter Palace and landed on the helipad. When Eirik walked up the steps of the palace a footman opened the door and Maks bounded out to greet him.
Gustav was waiting for him in the entrance hall. ‘The dog is delighted to see you, sir,’ he commented.
‘I’m glad to see him.’ Eirik patted his faithful companion’s head.
‘I fear you will be less glad to see me when I tell you that Miss Tremain...’ Gustav hesitated, and premonition dropped into Eirik’s stomach like a lead weight.
‘What are you going to tell me about her? Where is Arielle?’
‘Gone, sir. She said it was for the best.’ There was sympathy in the older man’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
Arielle pushed open the door of the pub. It was busy inside. The trawlermen had returned after several days at sea, and some of them looked as though they had been drinking all afternoon. No one took any notice of her as she walked up to the bar, carrying a few of her mother’s paintings.
When she had bumped into the landlady of the Sailor’s Rest in the local supermarket a few days ago, Arielle had mentioned that she was moving away from Penash.
‘I don’t blame you, love,’ Julie had told her. ‘It’s no place for a young woman, living in that remote cottage. I hear that the owners who leased it to your father are planning to turn it into a bed and breakfast. I wouldn’t mind a couple of your mum’s paintings. She was a good artist and painted some lovely seascapes.’
