A Night in the Prince's Bed

by Chantelle Shaw - A Night in the Prince's Bed

  ‘I didn’t become an actress to be famous,’ she told Aksel. ‘I hate show business and the celebrity culture. When I made that film in America, and the media falsely accused me of having that affair, I saw a side to acting that I don’t want to be a part of.

  ‘The photos in the newspapers of me going into a hotel with you and leaving the next morning looking like I’d spent a wild night in your bed are the worst thing that could have happened as far as I’m concerned. The lies written about my relationship with Dexter Price have been reprinted and my reputation is in tatters.’ She grimaced. ‘You should have been honest when we met, and told me who you are. You might be a prince, but you’re not my Prince Charming.’

  Aksel’s expression was thunderous, but he did not reply. Instead he grabbed the bottle of akevitt and walked out of the room, leaving Mina trembling inside and silently calling herself every kind of a fool, because while he had been leaning over her she had ached for him to cover her mouth with his and kiss her until the world went away.

  * * *

  By mid-afternoon the weak sun had slipped below the horizon once more and the snow clouds had been blown away to leave a clear, indigo-coloured sky. Aksel lit the oil lamps, and Mina was curled up in an armchair by the fire, reading. She had been surprised to find that many of the books in the book case were English.

  ‘English is the second official language of Storvhal,’ Aksel explained. ‘When I became Prince I made it a law that schools must also teach children English. It is important for the population to retain a strong link to their culture, but Storvhal is a small country and we must be able to compete on world markets and communicate using a globally recognised language.’

  He lowered his sketch pad where he had been idly drawing, and looked over at Mina. ‘Why did your parents send you to a mainstream school?’

  ‘I was eight when I lost my hearing and by that age I had learned speech and language. Mum and Dad were concerned that if I went to a specialist school for deaf children I might lose my verbal skills. But the hearing aids I wore then were not as good as the ones I have now, and I struggled—not so much with my school work, but I found it hard to be accepted by the other children.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Luckily I learned to act, and I was good at pretending that I didn’t care about being teased. Most people didn’t realise that I could lip-read when they called me dumb or stupid.’

  ‘You certainly proved your tormentors wrong by becoming a gifted actress.’ Aksel frowned as he imagined the difficulties Mina had faced as a child—and perhaps still sometimes faced as an adult, he mused. She seemed to have no problem understanding him by reading his lips, but he wondered if she felt vulnerable without her hearing aids.

  ‘I’d like to learn more about drama therapy,’ he said. ‘That type of specialised psychotherapy is not available in Storvhal, but I think it could help a group of children from a fishing village, whose fathers were all drowned when their boats sank during a storm at sea. Twenty families were affected, and the tragedy has touched everyone in the small village of Revika. The local school teachers and community leaders are doing what they can, but the children are devastated.’

  ‘Such a terrible disaster is bound to have left the children deeply traumatised,’ Mina murmured. ‘Drama therapy could provide a way for the children to explore and express their feelings.’

  She gave up trying to concentrate on her book. In truth she had spent more time secretly watching Aksel than reading. In the flickering firelight, his sculpted face was all angles and planes, and she longed to run her fingers through his golden hair.

  She glanced at the sketch pad. ‘What are you drawing?’

  ‘You.’ His answer surprised her.

  ‘Can I see?’

  He hesitated, and then shrugged and handed her the pad. Mina’s eyes widened as she studied the skilful charcoal sketch of herself. ‘You’re very good at drawing. Did you study art?’

  ‘Not formally. Drawing is a hobby I began as a child and I’m self-taught.’

  Mina handed him back the sketch pad. ‘You’ve made me prettier than I really am.’

  ‘I disagree. I haven’t been able to capture your beauty as accurately as I wish I could.’

  Her heart leapt, but she firmly told herself she must have made a mistake when she’d read his lips, just as she must have mistaken the reflection of the firelight in his eyes for desire. The atmosphere between them pricked with an undercurrent of tension, and in an attempt to ignore it she turned her attention to a second sketch pad lying on the table.

  ‘Do you mind if I have a look at your work?’

  ‘Be my guest.’

  The drawings were mainly done in charcoal or pencil and were predominantly of wildlife that she guessed Aksel had spotted in the mountains. There were several sketches of reindeer, as well as a lynx, an Arctic fox and some stunningly detailed drawings of wolves. The sketches were skilfully executed, but they were more than simply accurate representations of a subject; they had been drawn with real appreciation for wildlife and revealed a depth of emotion in Aksel that he kept hidden in all other aspects of his life.

  He was an enigma, Mina thought with a sigh as she closed the sketch pad. She stood up and carried the pad over to Aksel to put back on the shelf, but as she handed it to him a loose page fell out onto the floor. She leaned down to pick it up, but he moved quickly and snatched up the drawing. However he had not been quick enough to prevent Mina from seeing the drawing of a baby. She guessed the infant was very young, perhaps only a few weeks old, she mused, thinking of her sister’s twin boys when they had been newborns.

  Her eyes flew to Aksel’s face. She wanted to ask him about the drawing—a baby seemed an unusual subject for him to have sketched. But something in his expression made her hesitate. His granite-hard features showed no emotion but he seemed strangely tense, and for a second she glimpsed a look of utter bleakness in his eyes that caused her to take a sharp breath.

  ‘Aksel...?’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘Leave it, Mina.’

  She could not hear him but she sensed his tone had been curt. He deliberately turned away from her as he slipped the drawing inside the cover of the sketch pad and placed the book on the shelf.

  Her confusion grew when he turned off the oil lamps so that the room was dark, apart from the orange embers of the fire flickering in the hearth. Unable to see Aksel’s face clearly to read his lips, Mina stiffened when he put a hand on her shoulder and steered her over to the window. But the sight that met her eyes was so spectacular that everything else flew from her mind.

  She had heard about the natural phenomenon known as the aurora borealis but nothing had prepared her for the awe-inspiring light show that filled the sky. Swirling clouds of greens and pinks performed a magical dance. Mystical spirits, shimmering and ethereal, cast an eerie glow that illuminated the sky and reflected rainbow colours on the blanket of white snow beneath.

  Mina vaguely recalled, from a geography lesson at school, that the aurora—sometimes called the Northern Lights—were caused by gas particles in the earth’s atmosphere colliding, and the most stunning displays could only be seen at the north and south poles. But the reason why the aurora took place did not seem important. She was transfixed by the beauty of nature’s incredible display and felt humbled and deeply moved that she was lucky enough to witness something so magnificent. As she stared up at the heavens the tension seeped from her body and she unconsciously leaned back against Aksel’s chest.

  Aksel drew a ragged breath as he struggled to impose his usual icy control over his emotions. Seeing the picture of Finn had been a shock and he’d felt winded, as though he had been punched in his gut. He hadn’t known the drawing was tucked in the sketch pad. He must have put it there years ago, but he remembered sketching his son while the baby had been asleep in his crib.

  His little boy had been so beautiful. Aksel took another harsh breath and felt an ache in the back of his throat as he watched the glorious light spectac
le outside the window. He had seen the aurora many times but he never failed to be awed by its other-worldly beauty. It gave him some comfort to know that Finn was up here on the mountain. If there was a heaven, then this remote spot, with the aurora lighting up the sky, was surely the closest place to paradise.

  He recalled the puzzled expression in Mina’s eyes when she had seen the sketch. It had been obvious that she was curious about the identity of the baby. What shocked him was that for a crazy moment he had actually contemplated telling her about Finn.

  He frowned. Why would he reveal his deepest secret to her when he was not certain that he could trust her? Why, after so many years of carrying his secret alone, did he long to unburden his soul to this woman? Perhaps it was because he recognised her compassion, he brooded. How many people would choose to give up a successful acting career to become a psychotherapist working with traumatised children?

  But he doubted Mina would be sympathetic if he revealed the terrible thing he had done. For eight years he had hidden his son’s birth from the Storvhalian people, his friends, and even from his grandmother. He had believed he was doing the best thing for the monarchy, but his guilt ate away at him. He did not deserve Mina’s compassion, and he had not deserved her mind-blowing sensuality when they had made love.

  His mind flew back to two nights ago, and the memory of her generosity and eagerness to please him caused subtle warmth to flow through his veins, melting the ice inside him. He became aware of her bottom pressing against his thighs and an image came into his mind of the peachy perfection of her bare buttocks. The warmth in his veins turned to searing heat and the throb of desire provided a temporary respite from the dull ache of grief in his heart.

  In the darkened room he could see the profile of her lovely face and the slender column of her throat. Last night it had taken all his will power to walk away from her, but right now, when his emotions felt raw, it was becoming harder to remember why he must resist her.

  He wanted to press his lips to her white neck, wanted it so badly that his fingers clenched and bit into her shoulder, causing her to make a startled protest. She turned her head towards him and her mouth was mere centimetres from his, offering an unbearable temptation. Surely there was no harm in kissing her? He felt a tremor run through her and knew she was waiting for him to claim her lips. He dipped his head lower so that his mouth almost grazed hers. One kiss was all he would take, he told himself.

  One kiss would not be enough, a voice inside his head taunted. If he kissed her he would be bewitched by her sensual magic. But the reason he had fought his desire for her last night had not changed. He could not have unprotected sex with her and risk her conceiving his child. Nor would it be fair to allow her to think that he wanted a relationship with her. The brutal truth was that he wanted to lose himself in her softness and forget temporarily the past that haunted him.

  Mina stumbled as Aksel snatched his hand from her shoulder. She did not know what had happened to make him move abruptly away from her when seconds earlier he had been about to kiss her. Feeling dazed by the sudden change in him, she watched him light an oil lamp. In the bright gleam it emitted his face was expressionless, his blue eyes as cold as the Arctic winter. He took a step closer to her—reluctantly, she sensed—so that she could read his lips.

  ‘Go and put your snowsuit on,’ he instructed. ‘The sky is clear, which means we shouldn’t get any more snow for a few hours, and I’m going to risk making a dash down the mountain.’

  Aksel could not make it plainer that he did not want to spend any more time with her than was necessary. She could not cope with him blowing hot one minute and cold the next, Mina thought angrily. Coming to Storvhal had been an impulsive mistake, and the sooner she could fly home and forget she had ever met a prince, the better.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE JOURNEY DOWN the mountain was thankfully uneventful. The snow that had fallen earlier in the day had frozen into an ice sheet, which reflected the brilliant gleam of the moon and the countless stars suspended in the dark-as-ink sky.

  Halfway down, they swapped the snowmobile for the four-by-four. As Aksel had predicted, the snow was deep in the valley, but snow ploughs had cleared the roads and eventually they reached Storvhal’s capital city Jonja and saw the tall white turrets of the royal palace rising out of the dense fog that blanketed the city.

  Mina turned to him. ‘Why have you brought me here? I thought you were taking me straight to the airport.’

  Aksel was forced to stop the car in front of the ornate palace gates while they slowly swung open. He turned his head towards her so that she could watch his lips move. ‘All flights are grounded due to freezing fog. You’ll have to stay at the palace tonight.’

  A bright light flared outside the window. ‘What the hell...?’ Aksel’s jaw tightened when another flashbulb exploded and briefly filled the car with stark white light. ‘I hadn’t expected press photographers to be here,’ he growled. The gates finally parted and he put his foot down on the accelerator and gunned into the palace grounds.

  ‘You’d better prepare yourself for the reception committee,’ he told her tersely as he parked by the front steps and the palace doors were opened from within.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  As Aksel escorted Mina into the palace she understood his curious comment. Despite it being late at night, a dizzying number of people were waiting in the vast entrance hall to greet the prince. Courtiers, palace guards and household staff dressed in their respective uniforms bowed as Aksel walked past. There were also several official-looking men wearing suits, and Mina recognised the young man with round glasses as Aksel’s personal assistant, Benedict Lindburg. She knew there must be a buzz of conversation because she could see people’s lips moving, but it was impossible for her to lip-read and keep track of what anyone was saying.

  The crippling self-consciousness that Mina had felt as a child gripped her now. She hoped no one had spoken to her and thought she was being rude for ignoring them. Instinctively she kept close to Aksel and breathed a sigh of relief when he escorted her into a room that she guessed was his office and closed the door behind him so that they were alone.

  Aksel’s eyes narrowed on Mina’s tense face. ‘I did warn you,’ he said, stepping closer to ensure that she could see his mouth moving. ‘It must be difficult to lip-read when you are in a crowd. At least you can charge up your hearing-aid batteries while you are at the palace.’

  ‘What do all those people want?’

  He shrugged. ‘There is always some matter or other that my government ministers believe requires my urgent attention.’ His life was bound by duty, but for a few moments Aksel imagined what it would be like if he were not a prince and were free to live his life as he chose, free to make love to the woman whom he desired more than any other.

  Daydreams were pointless, he reminded himself. ‘The fog is forecast to clear by tomorrow afternoon and a member of my staff will drive you to the airport and book you onto a flight,’ he told her abruptly. ‘Whereabouts in London do you live?’

  ‘Notting Hill—but I won’t go back home until the paparazzi have grown bored of stalking my flat.’

  Aksel frowned. ‘Do you mean you were hounded by journalists?’

  ‘My friend Kat saw a group of them outside my front door. She won’t mind if I stay with her for a few days—and hopefully the furore about my alleged affair with a prince will die down soon.’ She gave him a wry look. ‘Anyway, it’s not your problem, is it? You are protected from press intrusion in your grand palace.’

  Although that was not absolutely true, Mina acknowledged as she remembered the press photographers who had been waiting at the palace gates. She wondered if Aksel resented living his life in the public eye, subjected to constant media scrutiny. In some ways this beautiful palace was his prison, she realised.

  Aksel appeared tense. ‘I’m sorry your life has been disrupted. I should have told you who I am w
hen we first met.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  He hesitated. ‘You might have thought I was lying to impress you and refused to have dinner with me.’

  Mina stared at his mouth, feeling frustrated that she could not hear him. ‘Would you have cared if I had refused?’

  His tugged his hand through his hair until it stood up in blond spikes. ‘Yes.’

  Her frustration boiled over. ‘Then why did you leave me alone at the cabin? You let me think you didn’t want me.’ She bit her lip. The memory of Aksel’s rejection felt like a knife wound in her heart. It had hurt far more than when she had discovered that Dexter had lied to her, she realised with a jolt of shock. How was that possible? She had been in love with Dex, but she certainly could not have fallen in love with Aksel after two days.

  The glimmer of tears in Mina’s eyes made Aksel’s gut twist. ‘My role as prince comes with expectations that would make it impossible for us to have a relationship,’ he said roughly.

  ‘That’s another thing you forgot to mention when you took me to bed.’

  ‘Damn it, Mina.’ He caught hold of her as she turned away, and spun her round to face him. ‘Damn it,’ he growled as he pulled her into his arms and crushed her mouth beneath his. He couldn’t fight the madness inside him, couldn’t control his hunger, his intolerable need to possess her beautiful body and make her his as she had been two nights ago.

  A knock on the door dragged Aksel back to reality. Reluctantly he lifted his mouth from Mina’s and felt guilty when he stared into her stunned eyes. He couldn’t blame her for looking confused, when he did not understand his own behaviour. His carefully organised life was spinning out of control and cracks were appearing in the ice wall he had built around his emotions.

  He knew she could not have heard the knock on the door, but the interruption had reminded him that he had no right to kiss her. He dropped his arms to his sides. ‘I’m needed,’ he told her, before he strode across the room and yanked open the door. His mood was not improved by the sight of his chief advisor. ‘Can’t it wait, Harald?’ he demanded curtly.