At least his PA knew when to keep his opinion to himself, Aksel thought darkly as he hit a button to activate the privacy screen that separated him from the occupants in the front of the car. It was unlikely that his chief advisor would show the same diplomacy. He grimaced as his phone rang and Harald Petersen’s name flashed on the caller display.
‘It’s a personal matter,’ Aksel explained curtly, in answer to his advisor’s query about why the royal flight from London to Storvhal had been delayed.
There was a tiny hesitation before Harald said smoothly, ‘I understand that you have cancelled all your meetings for this afternoon. If you have a problem, sir, I hope that I can be of assistance.’
The problem—as Harald damn well knew—was the photograph and the headline ‘The Prince and the Showgirl’ that had made the front page of the newspapers in England and Storvhal, and no doubt the rest of the world. But the real problem was him, Aksel thought grimly. He cursed the crazy impulse that had caused him to instruct his driver to turn the car around when they had been on the way to the airport, and take him to the Globe Theatre. But his conscience had been nagging. He had remembered the charity function that had been held at the Erskine hotel last night, and the members of the press who had been gathered outside to take pictures of the celebrity guests. It was possible that the paparazzi had been covering other entrances to the hotel, and Aksel had realised that he might have been wrong when he had accused Mina of tipping off a journalist that they would enter via a back door.
The article in the newspaper about her affair with a married film director in LA was damning, but when he’d read the sordid details Aksel had struggled to equate the heartless bimbo described in the paper with the woman who had responded with such sweet eagerness when he had made love to her. There had been a curious innocence to Mina that had touched something inside him. But now he knew it had been an act. Overhearing her at the theatre had ripped the blinkers from his eyes, and the realisation that she was as calculating and mercenary as his mother and Karena filled him with icy rage.
‘The photograph in the newspapers of you and the English actress could have repercussions in Storvhal,’ Harald Petersen murmured. ‘I fear that people will be reminded of your father’s playboy image, and it is imperative we think of a damage-limitation strategy. Perhaps you could issue a statement to deny that you are involved with Miss Hart—although that will be less believable now that there is a second photograph of you leaving the hotel with her.’ Harald gave a pained sigh. ‘I assume you will not be seeing her again. I’m afraid the Storvhalian people will not approve of you having an affair with her, and I am sure I do not need to remind you that your duty to your country must come before any other consideration.’
Aksel’s jaw clenched and he tightened his grip on his phone until his knuckles whitened. ‘You’re right—you don’t need to remind me of my duty,’ he said harshly. ‘Helvete! You, above all people, Harald, know the sacrifice I made to ensure the stability of the country when Storvhal was on the brink of civil unrest. Only you, amongst my staff, know that Karena gave me an illegitimate child. My son is dead, and for eight years I have kept Finn’s brief existence a secret because I understood that I must focus on ruling Storvhal and try to repair the damage my father caused to the monarchy.’
His tone became steely as he fought to disguise the rawness of his emotions. ‘Do not throw duty in my face, Harald. I swore when I was crowned that I would fulfil the expectations that the people of Storvhal have of their prince, but I have paid a personal price that will haunt me for ever.’
Aksel ended the call and his head fell back against the leather car seat. He could feel his heart jerking painfully beneath his ribs as he replayed his conversation with his chief advisor in his mind. How could Harald have implied that he needed to be reminded of his duty to his country? He had given Storvhal everything. He had spent more than a decade paying for his father’s sins, and had striven to be a perfect prince, even though it meant that he’d had to bury his grief for his son deep inside him.
The baby had been born in Russia and tragically had only lived for a few weeks. Losing Finn had ripped Aksel’s heart out. Every time his grandmother spoke of the need for him to have an heir Aksel pictured his baby boy and felt a familiar ache in his chest. But his grandmother had no idea how he felt. No one in his life, apart from his chief advisor, knew about Finn.
His thoughts turned again to Mina and for some inexplicable reason the ache inside him intensified. His mouth twisted cynically. He’d had sex with her, but of course she had not touched him on an emotional level, he assured himself. Aksel had buried his heart with his baby son, and the Ice Prince—the name that he knew his staff called him behind his back—was incapable of feeling anything.
CHAPTER FIVE
NOTHING HAD PREPARED Mina for the bone-biting cold as she walked through the doors of Storvhal’s international airport into a land of snow and ice.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Kat had asked when she had dropped Mina off at Heathrow. ‘Where on earth is Storvhal, anyway?’
‘It’s an island that stretches across the northern border of Norway and Russia.’
Kat had eyed Mina’s thin cotton skirt and jacket doubtfully. ‘Well, in that case you’d better borrow my coat.’
Mina had baulked at the idea of wearing her friend’s purple leopard-print coat with a hood trimmed with pink marabou feathers but she hadn’t had the heart to refuse. Now she was less concerned about Kat’s eccentric taste in fashion, and was simply grateful that the eye-catching coat provided some protection against the freezing temperature, as did the fur-lined boots and gloves she had bought in the airport shop along with a few other essentials. But the coat and boots would not keep her warm for long when a sign on the airport wall displayed a temperature of minus six degrees.
The fact that it was dark at three o’clock in the afternoon was another shock. But she was in the Arctic Circle, Mina reminded herself. According to the tourist guide she had picked up, Storvhal would soon be in polar night—meaning that there would be no daylight at all from the end of October until February.
She did not plan to be in Storvhal for long—although admittedly her exact plans were sketchy. She had been furious with Aksel when she had flown from England, and determined to defend herself against his accusation that she had tipped off the journalist and was therefore responsible for the photograph of them in the papers. But now that she had arrived in his icy, alien country she was starting to question her sanity.
Her sister often teased her for being impulsive. Mina felt a sudden pang of longing to be in Sicily, at the castle Torre d’Aquila with Darcey and Salvatore. Her brother-in-law had made her feel so welcome when she had visited in the summer. It was wonderful that Darcey was so happy and in love. Mina could not help but feel a little envious that her sister was adored by her handsome husband. If she ever got married she hoped she would share a love as strong as theirs.
A blast of icy wind prompted Mina to walk towards a taxi parked outside the airport terminal. To her relief the driver spoke good English and he nodded when she asked him to take her to the royal palace, which was mentioned in the tourist guide.
‘The palace is open to the public during the week. You should be in time for the last tour of the day,’ he told her. ‘It’s very spectacular. It was built in the twelfth century by a Viking warrior who was the first prince of Storvhal. If you look at the newspaper,’ the driver continued, ‘you will see that our current prince has made the headlines today.’
Mina glanced at the newspaper on the seat beside her and her heart sank. The paper must be a later edition than the one she had seen earlier, and the photo on the front page was of her and Aksel emerging from the hotel that morning. The wind had whipped her skirt up to her thighs, and her tangled hair looked as if she had just got out of bed. Aksel had his arm around her and wore the satisfied expression of a man who had enjoyed a night of hot sex.
Oh, God! Mina
cringed. The taxi driver glanced at her in his rear-view mirror and she was thankful that her face was hidden by the hood of her coat.
‘According to the press reports, the prince is having an affair with an English actress. I feel sorry for him,’ the driver continued. ‘The people of Storvhal take great interest in Prince Aksel’s private life. I guess they are afraid that he will turn out like his late father.’
‘What was wrong with his father?’ Mina was curious to learn any information about Aksel.
‘Prince Geir was not a good monarch. People called him the playboy prince because he was more interested in partying with beautiful women on his yacht in Monaco than ruling the country.’ The driver shrugged. ‘It did not help his popularity when he married a Russian woman. Historically, Storvhalians have mistrusted Russia. Prince Geir was accused of making secret business deals with Russian companies and increasing his personal wealth by selling off Storvhal’s natural resources.
‘Since Prince Aksel has ruled Storvhal he has avoided any hint of scandal and has restored support for the monarchy,’ the driver explained. ‘He won’t be pleased to have his personal life made public—and I’m sure the princess will be upset.’
Mina’s heart lurched sickeningly. ‘The princess...do you mean Prince Aksel is married?’
The memory of learning that Dexter had a wife and was not divorced as he had told her was still raw in Mina’s mind. Aksel had insisted that he was not married, but he could have lied. She shuddered to think that she might have been a gullible fool for a second time.
The driver did not appear to notice the sudden sharpness in her voice. ‘Oh, no, I meant Princess Eldrun—Prince Aksel’s grandmother. She ruled Storvhal with her husband, Prince Fredrik, for many years. When he died and Prince Geir inherited the throne the princess did not hide her disappointment that her son was a poor monarch. Geir was killed in a helicopter crash on his way to visit one of his many mistresses. It is common knowledge that Princess Eldrun hopes her grandson will choose a Storvhalian bride and provide an heir to the throne.’
They had been travelling along a main road, but now the taxi driver turned the car onto a gravel driveway that wound through a vast area of parkland. The frozen snow on the ground glittered in the bright glare of the street lamps, and the branches of the trees were spread like white lacy fingers against the night-dark sky. It was hard to believe that it was afternoon, Mina mused.
Her thoughts scattered as the royal palace came into view. With its white walls, tall turrets and arched windows, it looked like a fairy-tale castle, and the layer of powdery, glistening snow clinging to the roofs and spires reminded her of icing on top of a cake. The sight of guards in navy blue and gold uniforms standing in front of the palace gave her a jolt. For the first time it dawned on her that the man she had spent last night with, and who had made love to her with breathtaking passion, was actually a member of a royal dynasty.
The taxi driver dropped her at the public entrance to the palace and Mina joined the queue of people waiting to take a guided tour. An information leaflet explained that the public were allowed into the library and several reception rooms, which had been turned into a museum. The beautiful wood-panelled rooms filled with ancient tapestries and oil paintings were fascinating, but she was not in the mood for sightseeing.
She turned to the tour guide. ‘Where can I see the prince?’
‘You cannot see him—of course not.’ The female guide looked shocked, but her expression lifted as she clearly thought that she had misunderstood. ‘Do you mean you wish to buy a photograph of Prince Aksel? We sell souvenirs in the gift shop. The palace is about to close but you can visit the shop on your way out.’
The guide walked away, leaving Mina feeling a fool. Why had she thought that she would be able to stroll into the palace and bump into Storvhal’s monarch? It was as likely as expecting to meet the Queen of England when Buckingham Palace was opened to the public in the summer. But the truth was she hadn’t thought of anything past her urgency to find Aksel and convince him that she had not betrayed him to the press.
After learning from the taxi driver about Storvhal’s royal family, and the unpopularity of Aksel’s father, who had been known as the playboy prince, she could understand better why Aksel had reacted so angrily to the press allegations that they were having an affair.
The adrenaline that had been pumping through Mina’s veins since she had arrived in Storvhal and mentally prepared herself for a showdown with Aksel drained away, and she felt exhausted—which was not surprising when she’d had very little sleep the previous night, she thought, flushing as erotic memories resurfaced. The knowledge that Aksel was somewhere in the vast palace but she could not meet him was bitterly frustrating.
She glanced out of the window and realised that she must be overlooking the grounds at the rear of the palace. A four-by-four was parked on the driveway and someone was about to climb into the driver’s seat. The man was wearing a ski jacket; his hood slipped back, and Mina’s heart missed a beat when she recognised the distinctive tiger stripes in his blond hair.
Aksel!
She tapped frantically on the window to gain his attention. He was going to drive away and there was nothing she could do to stop him! He did not look up, and she watched him take a mobile phone out of his jacket and walk back inside the palace.
Mina looked along the corridor and saw the guide shepherding the other people from the tour party into the gift shop. Walking as rapidly as she dared, she hurried past the shop and out of the palace before racing through the grounds. With every step she expected to be challenged by the palace guards, but no one seemed to have noticed her. When she reached the four-by-four she found the engine had been left running, but there was no sign of Aksel.
The freezing air made Mina’s eyes sting, and she peered through the swirling snowflakes that had started to fall. She was likely to get frostbite if she stayed outside for much longer but she refused to give up her only opportunity to talk to Aksel. A few more minutes passed, and her toes and fingers became numb. There was nothing for it but to wait inside the vehicle, she decided as she opened the rear door and climbed inside.
The warmth of the interior of the four-by-four enveloped her. Gradually she stopped shivering, and as tiredness overwhelmed her she lay down on the seat and closed her eyes, promising herself that she would only rest them for a minute.
* * *
The snow was falling so thickly that the windscreen wipers could barely cope. Aksel knew that driving into the mountains in mid-October was a risk, but the weather reports had been clear, and he’d decided to visit the cabin for one last weekend before winter set in.
He guessed the blizzard had taken the forecasters by surprise. The road down in the valley was likely to be impassable already and there was no point turning round. Aksel was used to the harsh, fast-changing conditions of the Arctic landscape and wasn’t worried that he would make it to the cabin, but he knew there was a chance he could be stranded there if the weather did not improve.
He probably should have listened to his chief advisor’s plea to remain at the palace, he thought ruefully. But he had been in no mood to put up with Harald Petersen’s pained expression as the chief advisor read the latest press revelations that Storvhal’s ruling monarch was having a love affair with an English actress and apparently good-time girl, Mina Hart.
Love affair! Aksel gave a cynical laugh. Emotions had played no part in the night he had spent with Mina. If the press had accused him of having casual, meaningless sex with her it would have been closer to the truth. But he was meant to be above such behaviour, because, as Harald frequently reminded him, the population of Storvhal would not tolerate another playboy prince as his father had been.
Thank God he had managed to keep the story from his grandmother so far. Princess Eldrun’s heart was weak and a rumour that her grandson might be following his father’s reprobate lifestyle would be a devastating shock for her. Aksel’s knuckles whitened on the
steering wheel. Mina’s publicity stunt could have dire consequences for his grandmother’s health.
A memory flashed into his mind of Mina’s stricken face as he had walked away from her at the Globe Theatre earlier in the day. Damn it, he had overheard her admit that the rumours she was having an affair with him had earned her father’s production of Romeo and Juliet extensive media coverage. So why did he still have a lingering doubt that he might have misjudged her?
Because he was a fool, that was why, he told himself angrily. He should despise Mina, but he could not stop thinking about her and remembering how she had felt in his arms, the softness of her skin when he had lowered his body onto hers. Damn her, he thought savagely, shifting position to try to ease the throb of his arousal.
A sudden movement in his rear-view mirror caught his attention. Something—a faceless figure—loomed up on the back seat of the four-by-four. Aksel’s heart collided with his ribcage, and he swore, as shock and—hell, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it—fear surged through him. His chief advisor’s warnings that he should take more care of his personal safety jerked into his mind. But he refused to carry a weapon that had the potential to take a life. He had witnessed the utter finality of death when he had cradled his baby son’s lifeless body in his arms. The experience had had a profound effect on him and made him appreciate the immeasurable value of life.
He only hoped that whoever had stowed away in his car valued his life. Most of the population of Storvhal supported his rule. However he could not ignore the fact that no leader or public figurehead was completely safe from the threat of assassination. Was he going to feel a bullet in the back of his neck?
The hell he was! His survival instinct kicked in and he hit the brakes hard, causing the faceless figure to fall forwards. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he leapt out of the truck and pulled open the rear door. The interior light automatically flicked on and Aksel stared in disbelief at the incongruous sight of a figure wearing a purple leopard-print coat with a hood trimmed with pink feathers.
A Night in the Prince's Bed Page 7