He did as she asked but refused to turn around.
‘Kjell, that kiss—’
‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ He threw the words over his shoulder, reluctant even then to look at her.
Her heart curled in on itself. ‘Why not? Did younot—?’ She broke off, hating the need in her voice. ‘Did you not like it?’
‘Freya...’
He turned and she could finally see the conflict in his gaze. Seeing the struggle in his eyes gave her courage.
‘Kjell, I’ve done everything right. I’ve been the perfect Princess. I’ve done everything that was ever asked of me. I’ve never been in a tabloid, never been a headline. I’ve never put a foot out of line and I’ve never ever asked for something I’ve wanted for myself. Until now. Until you.’
‘Trouble. Freya. I’m nothing but trouble.’
‘I don’t care, Kjell,’ she cried.
‘But I do, Freya! I care so damn much. I care that I can’t be with you. I care that I can’t like that kiss, or look at you the way I want to. I care that I can’t touch you, or hold you, or do the things you beg me to do every time you look at me. So yes, Freya, I do care. You’re a princess and even I know that you can’t be with me. Your parents would never allow it.’
His eyes shone in the dark, the conviction, the hurt, the need.
‘I know it’s selfish to want this,’ she said, closing the distance between them, ‘to want you. And yes, I know it can’t last,’ she said, feeling the sob in her chest like a physical ache. ‘I know that this is all I’ll ever have of you. But I’m asking you to give me this, knowing that it’s selfish, that it’s unbearably cruel to both of us, but knowing that I’d rather live the rest of my life with the memory of you than the regret of never having loved you.’
Shehadbeen selfish. It had been her. Her need that had driven it, driven them together. For two blissful months before it all came crashing down, she’d hoarded him like the most precious crown jewel. But she realised now that Kjell would never have laid a finger on her if she hadn’t pushed at every turn. She’d been the one who had brought them together and he’d been the one who had paid the price.
An exile that had kept him from his family, his home, his country.
She rubbed at the chill that wrapped around her, arms rippling with goosebumps, her unseeing gaze slowly focusing on the snow falling beyond the window. He must have felt so alone. She frowned, the cold around her a little stronger now.
She looked at the wood burner and realised that it was running low. But scanning the room—she couldn’t see any wood to fuel it. There was a box of kindling, but no logs. Frowning, she looked again, shaking her head and hating that she was missing something painfully obvious. It made her feel...inept, not being able to do something as simple as adding wood to a fire to keep herself—and this room—warm.
After another five minutes she was beginning to get angry with herself for not finding the secret stash of wood and frustrated that she’d have to go and ask him. But she’d rather that than risk the fire going out.
She hurried to the boot room and found her boots. There were plenty of coats and jumpers, scarves and hats, but she looked at her clothes up on the drying rack near the ceiling and remembered. Stifling her embarrassment, she quickly washed her underwear in the sink and hung them up to dry.
Zipped up, tied up, wrapped up five minutes later, she pulled open the door and nearly shut it again. The blast of sub-zero air slapped her hard and fast and she had to lean into the wind just to stay upright.
Where was Kjell and what was he doing out here?
With one hand, she shaded her eyes from the furious frigid little flakes peppering her with icy accuracy, not even able to see the other cabin in the distance. Even knowing it was the height of madness, she was about to step out into the maelstrom when she noticed—with great relief—a pile of wood just on the inside of the porch. Pulling armfuls of the wood inside the boot room, she left a pile by the connecting door and took the rest straight into the cabin and nearly dropped them when she saw the fire had gone out.
‘No, no, no!’
She fell to her knees by the burner and went to pull the door handle, yanking it back when her palm burned. Finding a set of gloves, she thrust them on, ignoring the burn, and yanked open the door, terrified by the hiss of smoke and barely glowing embers. In a panic, she grabbed a fistful of the kindling, threw it onto the bottom of the stove and thrust one of the big logs on top. Seeing some tiny little pellet things that must be firelighters, she grabbed two, then two more—just in case. There was a box of long-stemmed matches and as she struck one her fingers shook.
‘Please let this work...please,’ she prayed.
She placed the match beneath the first firelighter and then the second, before she threw the match into the belly of the wood burner. But her sigh of relief choked in the moment that the wood started to hiss and flare. Tiny little sparks like furious fireflies exploded into being and, panicking, she hastily shut the door to the burner. The spitting white specks zoomed for a little longer but then went out. Smoke began to fill the chamber behind the glass door. Freya didn’t know what to do.
Gingerly she opened the door and thick dark smoke billowed into the room. Terrified, she shoved another load of firelighters into the burner and, waving the smoke out of her eyes, tried to light the fire. But the smoke wouldn’t stop coming and the wood was making a terrible hissing noise.
A thick black fog was seeping into the cabin and Freya began to choke. Her heart in her mouth, she scrabbled back towards the door to the boot room. She ran for her boots, not even bothering to tie them up, shoved her arms into the nearest coat and ran out into the snow.
‘Kjell!’ she cried, not even sure what direction he was. If he was even nearby. She screamed his name again and suddenly firm hands grabbed her by the arm.
‘Are you hurt?’ he demanded, pink slashes on his skin, no hat on his head and his jacket as open as hers.
She shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry!’