The pilot put them down much closer to the edge of the forest than Freya had thought possible. Yet it was still a good distance from the two dwellings she could barely make out, buried beneath what looked, worryingly, like several feet of snow.
She waited while green jump-suited men flipped buttons and muttered into their headsets, controlling her breathing by timing her pulse to the slowing blades above her.
‘Okay, Your Highness. We’re ready.’
She nodded to Gunnar and reached up to the handle just above the open door. The young member of the royal guard, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with excitement, held his hand out to her from the ground. This was probably his first assignment. Had she been Kjell’s first assignment too?
‘Your Highness?’
She turned back to look at Gunnar.
‘We don’t have much time. Conditions have worsened unexpectedly. There’s a storm coming in from the East and it’s set to be a bad one.’
Freya didn’t waste any more time. There was absolutely no way that she would risk getting stuck out here. None. She had one goal. Get in, have Kjell accept the medal and leave. He owed her that much at least.
She landed a little ungracefully, despite the support from the guard, the blanket of snow about three inches deeper than she had imagined. The action jarred, sending a hard jolt up through her body. She shook her head a little, righting herself and her sense of self at the same time.
This was what she wanted, she told herself firmly. This was what was needed.
Freya looked up at the large cabin closest to them, the red painted wooden boards barely visible through flakes of snow that were now falling thick and fast. But something drew her gaze to the cabin set further back, nearer the woods, and a sense of déjà vu struck her, even though she’d never set foot in this part of southern Sweden before.
She shivered as a snowflake snuck past the upturned collar of her coat and slid down her spine. The icy tendril clashed with the fast burn of ire, flaring to life at the mere thought of what could have been and what would never be, the past with Kjell and the future with children she’d never have all swirling out of her reach and making her heart ache.
Her head snapped up as she felt his eyes on her, burning her skin. She searched back and forth across the front of the properties and only on her second pass did she see him leaning lazily against the corner of the furthest building, watching them approach as if he had all the time in the world.
Pinpricks broke out across the back of her neck and a shocking longing hit her hard and fast. It stuck in her throat and filled her lungs. Until the memory of his betrayal cut through the haze of need like a shard of ice.
Clearing her mind, Freya knew without a doubt that the only reason she had spotted him was because he’d allowed it. And now that shehadseen him she refused to look away, half afraid that if she blinked he would disappear and all of this would have been for nothing. Her only chance at freedom gone, just like that.
The snow made it much harder to close the distance and consequently gave her more time to take him in. How was he standing there in the middle of a blizzard with a minus windchill factor in nothing but a dark long-sleeved top that clung to his torso like a second skin? The matching trousers looked military grade and even had she not overheard his army rank she still would have thoughtdangerous. He was twisting something in gloveless hands—a rag or piece of cloth? Her fingers stung at just the thought of how cold his hands must be.
Finer details began to emerge as she drew closer. His hair, still the colour of spun gold, had grown a little long at the top, was swept back by the wind but the close crop at the sides highlighted the fierce slash of his cheekbones. The dark material of his T-shirt pulled tightly over a chest that was bigger and broader and so much more defined than she remembered it made her palms itch. The narrow circumference of his hips was marked by a thick black canvas belt that looked utilitarian rather than affectation. And his height... She could have hurt herself looking up at the forbidding expression on his features.
Maybe it was the snow, maybe it was the isolated cabins, but she’d expected a beard. Full, thick, something a Norse god could be proud of. But his jaw was clean, all hard angles and smooth skin, and still she wanted to—
Freya jerked her eyes up to his and bit her lip. The storm in his gaze was far worse than anything the elements could throw at her. He narrowed his eyes as if sensing her wayward thoughts, before he refocused on something behind her.
‘Take her home, Gunnar,’ he growled, his voice somehow carrying through the raging snowstorm, and without even a second glance at her he disappeared through the door with a slam that dislodged an unhealthy amount of snow from the sloped roof.
Panic shot through her. It had taken two months for Sander to even consider agreeing to her request to step down from her royal position. If Kjell didn’t accept the medal, would her brother force her to endure the world’s press poring over her failure as a royal? As a woman?
The thought of it gave her the fuel she needed. She clenched her jaw, turning back to the head of her security, sending her arm out to stop him. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she warned, barely seeing him raise his hands in surrender before she marched towards the cabin and the closed door.
‘Fifteen minutes, Your Highness. Twenty at most,’ she heard Gunnar call to her as she reached the cabin.
CHAPTER TWO
WHATWASSHEdoing here?
Kjell stood in the boot room, his hands on his hips and his eyes on the middle distance. It was only when his teeth started to hurt that he realised he’d been clenching his jaw. He tilted his head to one side; the wind was picking up even more speed outside and when it hit, the storm was going to hit hard, but it was the crunch of snow he was listening for.
He’d heard the helo above thethunkof his axe cleaving through the last pieces of firewood he was stockpiling ahead of the storm. The sweat he’d worked up instantly cooling on his skin, making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
He’d watched as the pilot navigated a decent proximity to the forest with the resigned determination of a military man who knew something grim was coming. But he hadn’t expectedher.
For a moment, his mind had blanked with a shock he didn’t think he’d felt since he’d last seen her. His response to her twisting and morphing back to the present through layers of anger, shame, guilt and heat. Always heat.
He clenched his jaw. He couldn’t afford to think like that. Her Royal Highness Princess Freya of Svardia was outside his cabin and, no matter what had happened, he was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Svardia Armén. She was his superior, as a citizen and as a serving member of the armed forces.