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They left the hotel through the back door. Arielle held her breath when they passed the kitchens, but Danny Bray did not appear. She was surprised when Eirik led her across the staff car park to an old truck that looked the same as every other farm vehicle, with mud-spattered wheels and dents in the bodywork.
‘The paparazzi who are camped outside the hotel do not take any notice of me when I drive past them in this,’ he explained as he opened the passenger door and offered his hand to help her step up into the truck. He walked round to the driver’s side, and Arielle’s heart lurched when she realised that he intended to drive her home himself. She gave him directions to her cottage, and once they had left the main road, they were both silent while he concentrated on driving along the narrow lanes that wound up to the top of the cliffs.
‘It’s certainly remote,’ he said when the truck rattled across the cattlegrid next to an old sign that said Rowse Farm. Arielle had been meaning to take the sign down, but few people visited her cottage. She tensed, wondering if Eirik had recognised the name of Cornwall’s most notorious criminal. ‘Do you keep livestock?’ he asked.
‘Not any more.’
The moon had disappeared behind clouds and the darkness was impenetrable. Eirik pulled up in the courtyard and switched off the engine. ‘Do you ever feel spooked living out here on your own?’
‘I’m not afraid of ghosts, if that’s what you mean.’ Arielle was sure she’d switched the porch light on before she’d left, but the wiring in the cottage was old and the light bulbs had a habit of blowing.
Eirik got out of the truck and came round to open the passenger door. Once again, his nearness made her pulse quicken. Feeling flustered, she ignored his hand and jumped down. Her heel caught on a cobblestone, and she would have unbalanced if he hadn’t caught her.
‘Let me help you. Your shoes are not ideal for the terrain.’
It would be churlish to refuse. His old-fashioned chivalry was something she’d never experienced before, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach when he slipped his arm around her waist to support her over the uneven cobbles. In the dark porch Eirik used the torch on his phone so that Arielle was able to fit her key in the lock. She opened the front door that led directly into the living room and took a deep breath. ‘Thank you for bringing me home.’
‘It was my pleasure.’ His face was all angles and planes in the shadows cast by the lamp just inside the door that she’d switched on. He did not move, and she could hardly close the door while he was standing there.
‘Well, goodnight,’ she murmured.
‘You could invite me in for coffee.’
‘I don’t have coffee. I only buy tea because it’s cheaper. Do you drink tea?’
‘All the time.’
There was a gleam of mischief in his eyes as well as something else that caused her heart to miss a beat. With a faint sigh, Arielle admitted to herself that she did not want the evening to end yet. ‘In that case would you like to come in?’
‘Thank you.’ His smile made her think of a wolf, and she wondered if he viewed her as prey.
‘Mind your head on the beams,’ she warned as she ushered him into the living room.
He looked round the room. ‘How old is this place?’
‘It was built about two hundred years ago.’ She had no idea if he thought the cottage was quaint or pokey. Since her father had been sent to prison, she’d covered the ancient sofa with brightly coloured throws and hung some of her mother’s paintings on the walls to make the house feel more homely. ‘The kitchen used to be a piggery and the bedrooms are in the attic where hay was once stored. You had better sit down,’ she said, noticing that Eirik’s head brushed against the low ceiling.
He dominated the small room, but it wasn’t just his height and athletic build. He possessed a magnetism that would make him stand out in a crowd. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said a little breathlessly. But she did not move. Her heart was thudding painfully hard. ‘You’re not a tea drinker, are you?’
‘No.’ He crossed the room in two strides and stared down at her. His mouth lifted at the corners, but his gaze was watchful and intense.
She gave a helpless shrug that turned into a shiver of excitement. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘You kissed me,’ he drawled. ‘I can’t get the memory of your lips pressed against mine out of my mind.’ His husky accent made the tiny hairs on Arielle’s skin stand on end.
She felt herself blush. ‘It wasn’t a kiss as such. You had almost drowned, and it was necessary for me to use mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on you.’
He laughed softly as he slid his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up. ‘Explain it to yourself that way if you want, but you kissed me,skatta, and I liked it, a lot. So much in fact that I think we should kiss properly. What do you say?’
Arielle tried to think of a flippant response, something that would ease the screaming sexual tension, but her mind was blank. The musk of male pheromones evoked a purely feminine reaction. Her breasts felt heavy and there was a dull ache between her legs. Shockingly, she imagined pressing her pelvis up against his and opening his zip while he shoved her dress out of the way and slipped his hand between her thighs. What was happening to her? She had never thrown herself at a man, but she had never met a man like Eirik.
His eyes glittered as he lowered his face towards hers, and she was powerless to stop him. His mouth was tantalisingly close. When his arms came around her, she allowed him to draw her against the solid wall of his chest. Her senses went wild as she was enveloped in his heat and his tantalising, male scent.
‘You brought me back to life three nights ago,’ he murmured. His breath whispered across her cheek. He grazed his lips over hers, once, twice, tasting her with leisurely sips that sent a quiver of anticipation through Arielle. Instinctively she knew that his light, almost playful kisses were a prelude to the passion building inexorably between them.
She moaned softly when he pushed his tongue between her lips, and he answered with a low groan, angling his mouth over hers and deepening the kiss until it was flagrantly erotic. Arielle melted against him, and reality faded.
‘Du er smukke,’he murmured against her lips. He smiled at her puzzled expression. ‘It’s Fjernlandic for you are very beautiful.’
