Chapter Ten
Freya clung to the dashboard as the all-terrain vehicle powered up the snowy track, then broke free of the tree line, to reveal a large A-frame structure in the distance—its arched windows facing the icy surface of a lake.
The raised porch had strings of fairy lights dripping from its eaves alongside the icicles, which twinkled in the afternoon twilight giving the luxury two-storey house a festive glow.
It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, but the sun had already sunk beneath the horizon as they’d travelled into the frozen forest.
She let out a careful breath as they approached the house.
This was not a cabin, but a stunning combination of traditional and modern architecture that blended beautifully with the surrounding landscape.
The place looked enchanted, almost as enchanted as the forest blanketed in glittering white that they’d spent over six hours driving through.
Theo flicked a switch on the vehicle’s dashboard, and a metal door opened under the house. He drove into the lodge’s carport, braked, then clicked off the satellite GPS device and let out a heavy breath. Lights blinked on as the garage door lowered behind them, sealing them into the quiet space.
‘Well, it’s certainly remote,’ Theo said, his voice rusty from lack of use.
He had barely said a word to her since they’d landed in Helsinki.
From there they had transferred to a helicopter and flown to the town of Saariselk?—Finnish Lapland’s northern most resort.
On the edge of the Arctic Circle, they had transferred to the all-terrain, which looked like a cross between an SUV and a tank—with caterpillar tracks instead of wheels to handle the wintry trail through the frozen forest.
Freya hadn’t expected them to be travelling solo for the last leg of their journey—she had simply assumed they would be accompanied by his staff.
But it was just the two of them staying at the secluded lodge.
Because, apparently, things weren’t uncomfortable enough after her idiotic decision to sleep with him on the plane.
What on earth had she been thinking? Even if their chemistry was off the charts, her impulsiveness—and lack of foresight—had shocked her, as she’d spent the last day debating all her stupid decisions since choosing to climb aboard the back of his bike.
Wanting to enjoy her new-found freedom, wanting to assert herself, test her boundaries and do all the wild crazy things she had missed out on as a teenager was understandable…
Choosing to jump a man she couldn’t trust and who she was going to be trapped with for the next two weeks at least and who she knew planned to use her to make a land deal with her father, not so much.
The only saving grace of this excruciating situation was that Theo seemed equally uncomfortable. Hence the sulking ever since they’d landed in Finland. Although what he had to sulk about, she had no idea.
She’d chosen not to address the issue during the arduous drive—partly because she was still trying to get her head around the implications of what they’d done, but also because driving in these conditions and handling the heavy vehicle had looked far from easy, the trail invisible under the layers of ice.
The vehicle’s tanklike tracks had slipped on the snow more than once as Theo wrestled to keep it on the road.
They were both tired. And there would be more than enough time to confront the fallout from their hook-up on the plane. Far too much time. Unfortunately.
‘I can’t believe anyone managed to build somewhere this far out into the forest,’ she said, hoping some small talk might relieve the tension that had been bristling between them ever since this morning…
‘I can’t believe anyone would bother. Who would want to live out here?’ Mr Grumpy replied.
She thought of the stunning winter wonderland they’d passed on their journey. The majestic conifers laden with snow, the reindeer herds silently guarding the frozen landscape, even a wolf pack glimpsed racing across a clearing as the setting sun cast a fiery glow over the horizon.
‘I can. It’s so beautiful here,’ she said, simply.
He grunted and shrugged. But when he pushed open the car door and climbed down, she saw him stumble. He had to be exhausted after the punishing drive. Even so, he had reached her door before she could wrestle it open.
He offered a hand, to help her alight. But when she reached for it, because it was a long way down from the tank-like vehicle, instead of taking it, he grasped her round the waist to lower her to the floor.
She stepped away, far too aware of his nearness—the heat pumping off his body, the creases around his eyes, and the bruised shadows under them. And the scent of bergamot and orange that clung to him and reminded her of the feel of him sinking deep.
Her backside bumped the car door, trapping her against him.
‘Don’t worry, Your Highness,’ he murmured, the disdain in his voice almost as wounding as the unwanted heat lodged in her sex like a hot brick. ‘I’m too shattered to deflower you again tonight.’
Deflower you!
She frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
Because it had sounded like an insult. And she could hardly have missed the bitter tone, reminding her of his accusations.
That she’d tricked him somehow—with her innocence.
But before she could ask him to explain himself, he had already started grabbing the luggage from the vehicle’s back seat.
Slinging her small pack over his shoulder, he picked up two heavy kit bags, then shouted something in Greek.
A door slid open on the other side of a row of snowmobiles, revealing a staircase into the lodge’s interior. Her mouth hung open.
‘The house’s controls are all voice activated,’ he said by way of explanation as he marched past her carrying the bags.
‘In Greek?’ she demanded.
‘Yeah, I had the computer reprogrammed. I don’t know any Finnish. Do you?’
‘No, but I also don’t know any Greek!’ Which he surely had to be aware of.
She stomped after him up the internal staircase.
Had he engineered this? To make her helpless?
Was this another way of controlling her, the way her father had always controlled her?
Infantilising her and making her dependent on him for her every move.
Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d kidnapped her?
And delayed all her carefully laid plans to start creating a life for herself—on her own terms—at least until the new year?
Her outrage simmered like a volcano, right under her breastbone. That would be the volcano she had been trying to prevent from erupting ever since their argument on the jet, at least until they both got a decent night’s sleep.
‘Good thing I speak Greek, then,’ he cast over his shoulder, either unaware or unbothered by her active volcano.
She swallowed down the latest lava flow as she followed him into a large open-plan living space. The cathedral-like room was bathed in the shadowy twilight coming through the doomed window at the front of the house, while underlighting illuminated a lavish state-of-the-art kitchen on the far side.
Even in the half-light, the space was breathtaking—minimalist and sleek but also designed with comfort in mind.
Theo issued another order in Greek, and more lights switched on, illuminating vaulted ceilings, oak beams, polished wooden floors and a suite of luxury furniture arranged around a sunken seating area.
Flames leapt to life in the fire pit in the centre.
Then the colourful lights of a Christmas tree placed by the statement window flickered on, too.
The gold and silver baubles and bows on the ten-foot fir tree gleamed, the piney scent filling the air.
Freya dropped her head back and released a reverent breath, noticing the other decorations hung from the rafters in swathes of silver and gold.
And, completely unbidden, a wave of images from that long-ago Christmas came flooding back.
Vivid memories swirled in her head, of the trek into the forest with the bodyguard tugging a sledge with her and her brothers on it, so they could cut down a similarly enormous tree to surprise her mother on Christmas Eve.
Of the day spent dancing to Christmas songs, her mother attempting to bake gingerbread cookies and the bodyguard finding a box of decorations and untangling a string of lights so they could decorate their tree…
Warmth enfolded her, along with those long-lost memories.
‘Danny…’
The name whispered across her consciousness.
The bodyguard’s name had been Daniel Charbonnet.
But her mother had called him Danny, they all had by the end of that week.
She had made herself forget his name—and how she had come to adore him as well, when he’d perched her on his shoulders and insisted she place the angel she’d purchased at the Christmas market on top of that tree.
Equally vivid too was the memory of lying in bed that Christmas Eve, listening to her brothers chatting excitedly about the snowman Danny had promised to build with them the next day, and wishing with every fibre of her being that Danny could be their father—instead of the austere and distant prince who had sired them.
And not just because Daniel Charbonnet had helped make that Christmas so special, but because he had made her mother smile again, and laugh.
A wave of sadness washed over her, even as regret and confusion curdled the memories.
Had she been wrong to believe that Daniel Charbonnet cared about her, that he wasn’t just using her and her brothers to get into his queen’s panties?
Or had she witnessed something that Christmas that made sense of her mother’s desertion?
Theo dropped the bags onto the polished flooring, jerking Freya out of her reverie. He swore. This time in English.
‘I should have specified, no Christmas crap,’ he grumbled.