Back in the boot room, back in the present, Kjell clenched his jaw, his heart once again aching for the children that Freya felt she’d never now have. But he couldn’t help but wonder if she was blinkered, as if those around her so focused on bloodlines and lineage had clouded whatcouldbe. And it was a conversation they needed to have before she went too far to take it back.
He pushed into the cabin to find her staring at the stunning view. She was framed by falling snow, snow-covered trees—the natural wildness was stunning, but nothing compared to her innate beauty. And while his pulse picked up and desire flared anew, he forced it back.
‘We need to talk.’
‘I don’t want to,’ she said, her body instantly stiff with a tension that had nothing to do with desire or need.
He couldn’t help but smile at the petulant tone he remembered well from eight years ago. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain, but he knew her well enough to know that she’d probably not thought about her situation beyond the impact it would have on her family. He could have cursed them. Surely at least one of them had reassured her that she was more than just her worth to the throne.
‘When did you find out?’ he asked, coming to stand behind her, reaching out to snare her hips with his hands, delighting in the friction as she spun to face him.
She rose on her tiptoes, seeking his lips, but he leaned back from the reach of her kiss. Before, he’d been a willing distraction to take the edge off the raw pain in her heart. But now she needed something else, whether she wanted it or not. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make it pleasurable. His hands held her in place and she scowled.
She turned her head away, purposely cutting him, but the smooth skin of her neck was exposed and he bent to press open-mouthed kisses, sucking gently, tempted to brand her as his but just managing to resist.
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ he offered. The stillness of her body told him he had her attention. ‘For every answer you give me, I’ll give you something in return.’
‘Something?’
He smiled into the kiss he pressed to her collarbone. ‘You’ll have to answer a question to find out, Princess.’ He waited, withholding his touch to see if she would take the bait. He saw her pulse flicker delicately at her jaw.
‘Confirmation happened a month ago,’ she said and in return he drew his palms up to either side of her chest and swept his thumbs over her nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks. She pressed into the pressure gently and gasped.
‘But you’ve suspected since...’
She flicked her gaze to him and back over his shoulder as if punishing him. ‘I first went to the doctor a year ago.’
‘Should you have gone sooner?’
The aching thought that she’d neglected herself as she had done even back then during university was a low throb in his heart.
She stared at him, an eyebrow raised, reminding him that he owed her and, smiling, he freed a hand to reach for her chin, thumb and forefinger angling her face to perfection. He teased her lips with brushing kisses, his tongue testing the seam of her mouth until she opened for him. His pulse raised to new heights as soft wet heat welcomed his tongue, until she nipped at his lower lip startling his eyes open to see mischief shining back at him.
‘No. I had... Do you really want to hear this?’ she asked, the wound audible beneath the cover of exasperation.
‘Yes.’
She sighed, the sadness in it hurting him deeply. ‘I’ve always had irregular periods. They were frustrating, but manageable, especially as I was on contraception. Two years ago I decided to come off it but the irregularities increased, rather than settling down.’
Freya forced herself to keep going. There was nothing wrong with talking about a natural body function. If more people spoke about it freely, then maybe there wouldn’t be such stigma. Such ignorance. Such awkwardness. Suchshame.
‘There was pain?’
‘Yes.’
When he ran his hands over her body in payment for her answer it took some of the sting out of the conversation. As if he’d known that this was what she needed, known that this was the only way she could speak about it at all. His lips pressed down between her breasts, the heat of his breath warming her skin through the cotton of her long-sleeved top.
‘Tests?’
‘Yes. Invasive ones.’
His hand swept down to cup her backside, lifting her slightly in a way that pressed her against his erection, leaving her in no doubt of his desire for her, distracting her from thoughts of cold, sterile equipment and gloved hands.
She gasped as his hand swept between her legs, as if he were replacing bad memories with new ones, better ones.
‘They revealed that the lining of my uterus was thin. It was the cause of the irregularities and—’ she almost laughed at the cruel irony ‘—I was thankful that it was nothing more troubling. Until they told me that it would be impossible for an embryo to implant there. Impossible for me to carry a child to term. They tried increasing the hormones, but their effect on the lining was negligible.’
The press of his lips slowed and he pulled back to look at her. She read the next question in his eyes.