by Kitty French
Lucien pushed a hand through the hair she'd recently been clutching onto.
"For the record, voyeurism doesn’t have to mean being outside. And anyway, I wouldn't recommend too much outdoor sex where we’re headed, Princess. It's inside the Arctic Circle."
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Arctic Circle? As in snow, and glaciers, and polar bears?
Sophie glanced down at her filmy blouse in alarm. This outfit was not going to cut it. She was going to freeze to death.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine, it's not much different to an English winter up there at the moment. You've brought a coat, yes?"
Sophie nodded, unconvinced. Her beautiful wool holly berry red coat kept her cosy enough at home, but it wouldn't be the choice of your average Eskimo.
Lucien crossed to the self-service galley and returned with a platter of croissants, pastries, cheeses and continental meats.
"Breakfast is served, madam."
Sophie looked at the array of foods and realised she was starving. Being with Lucien made her forget the most basic things, eating included. Her husband should probably be added to that list too.
"Is your life always like this?" she asked, after she'd loaded her plate. "Private jets, any woman you want, champagne on tap?"
Lucien studied her over the brim of his steaming coffee cup.
"Pretty much."
He was utterly unapologetic, but then why wouldn’t he be? It was a dream lifestyle, and Google had reliably informed her that at thirty-one, Lucien Knight was the complete self-made man. His business acumen was much documented and lauded, even if his history before Knight Inc. was a blank page.
"Don't you ever want more, though?"
"More? One private jet is enough, even for me," he said dryly.
"No... I didn't mean..." - she waved an arm around the luxurious cabin - "…this. What about family? What about love... kids one day, maybe?"
Lucien blew out a breath and shook his head. "Not my bag, Princess. Ties don't do it for me."
"Everyone needs love, Lucien."
"Yeah, and Santa really exists." Lucien pushed his plate away. "Where's love got you, Sophie?"
Sophie dipped her head, stung by his words. Or stung by the truth behind his words. Love had got her precisely nowhere. Maybe he was right. He'd built a life for himself that was all about fun without heartache. What was so bad about that?
"But don't you get lonely sometimes?"
Lucien shrugged. "I own seven clubs and twenty nine retail shops around the country, and I have a staff of over five hundred, including a terribly distracting PA. I don't have time to be lonely."
Much as Sophie wanted to dig deeper, something in Lucien's face had shut down. His glittering eyes had dulled to a flat blue, and a muscle twitched along the hard set of his jaw. His answers had told her precisely nothing, and she got the distinct feeling that they had been structured to have exactly that effect. The man should be a politician. Who are you, Lucien Knight?
However intimate they had been over the last few days, in any way that counted, the man sitting opposite her was a complete stranger.
Lucien closed the bedroom door quietly, relieved that Sophie had accepted his suggestion that she change into jeans and try to catch up on some sleep for the rest of the flight. Her questions over breakfast had unsettled him. He wasn't lonely, and the last thing on his agenda was being shackled to someone else.
Why did anyone ever think monogamy was going to work? It wasn't natural. People were sexual beings, marriage artificially suppressed nature’s desires. It warped those who tried to conform to the rules, and made villains and victims out of those who failed.
Sophie's marriage was a case in point. Her husband was half way around the world enjoying the carnal pleasures of another woman's body, while his wife lay in bed recovering from her latest orgasm en route to the Arctic Circle. Where was the honesty there? Where was the love, and the much fabled respect?
Lucien glanced towards the bedroom door. He was determined that Sophie would enjoy far more carnal pleasures before she went home and into battle with her cheating husband.
Daniel Black was a worried man. He couldn't get hold of his wife. He could hardly make a scene about it with Maria, but Sophie's silence could only mean one thing. He wasn't a dramatic man, it didn't occur to him that anything untoward might have happened to her. Gut instinct told him that Sophie was choosing to avoid his calls. Cold fear wrapped clammy fingers around his heart at the thought that she knew about his affair.
Never in a million years did he entertain the idea that Sophie herself might be too busy in the arms of another man to listen to his ever more desperate pleas for her to pick up his messages.
Back in suburbia, their ordinary little semi stood neglected, the flashing red of the answering machine the only light in the place.
Red for hazard. Red for danger. Red for trouble ahead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"Are you sure I’m not going to die of hypothermia?"
Sophie cast an anxious glance at Lucien as the jet taxied to a halt on the small runway. Lucien had yet to elaborate on exactly where they were, but by the looks of the dramatic, snow-peaked landscape they'd flown over, they were somewhere extremely cold.
Lucien wound a soft black woollen scarf that smelt deliciously of him around her neck, having reached it down from an overhead locker.
"You'll be fine.” He cast a doubtful look at her feet. “Your shoes wouldn’t be most people’s choice for the Arctic Circle, but you'll be fine."
He pulled his leather jacket on and opened the aircraft doors with the ease of someone who did it often. "Welcome to Norway, Ms. Black. Mind your step."
He paused momentarily at the top of the steps, inhaled deeply, then headed down onto the tarmac with his head bowed. Sophie followed, relieved to feel the cool but by no means freezing wind on her cheeks as she breathed in the fresh crystal air.
Norway. Once again, Lucien had managed to do the last thing she'd expected. Any other playboy might have chosen Paris, or perhaps Venice. Not Lucien. For some unfathomable reason, he'd decided that the Arctic Circle was the appropriate setting for seduction.
He hustled her straight into the warm leather interior of a waiting limousine, and within seconds they were easing out of the small airport and onto the open road.
Sophie watched in wonder out of the window, exhilarated by her first glimpse of Norway. Snow-peaked mountains reared up into pale blue skies, fringed all around with lush early autumn greens and golds. It looked like a scene out of a picture book, too perfect to be real.
"It's breathtaking," she breathed, as much to herself as Lucien.
"Those are the Lyngen Alps.” Lucien gestured out of the window at the majestic mountains. "We're up in the very north of the country, high above the Arctic Circle."
"It's very beautiful." Sophie murmured. "I feel like Maria from The Sound of Music."
"Wrong country – that’s Austria," he corrected her, and slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him in the plush rear seat of the car. "You can dress up as a governess if you like though. Or a nun."
Sophie rolled her eyes. "Do you ever not think about sex?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
Sophie looked back out at the beautiful scenery. He'd been joking, but she envied Lucien his outlook. He worked hard, played hard, and he never had his heart broken. As far as she knew, anyway. Wasn't that a better plan than most people's? Do a job you hate, watch too much TV, and lay yourself open to the devastation of love and loss?
"Do you come here often?" As soon as the words left Sophie's lips, she regretted them. She'd intended to ask a genuine question and managed to make it sound like a come-on. But Lucien didn't pull her up on the innuendo.
"Less often than I'd like." It was his turn to gaze out of the window. Sophie frowned, unsure what she'd said to make him close off. From the way he'd clammed up in the jet earlier and the way his face had hardened just now, she c
ould tell that he didn't appreciate these kind of questions. What did he mean, not as often as he'd like? Did he have personal obligations here?
"Do you have clubs in Norway?"
"No."
Lucien pressed a button and the privacy glass between the driver and the rear of the limo slid into place.
"Stop asking questions and get over here." He pulled her onto his lap and glanced at his watch. "We have approximately fourteen minutes." His hand slid along her thigh. "I bet I can make you come within three."
Exactly fourteen minutes later the limo eased to a stop, and Sophie straightened her blouse before the driver opened her door. She stepped outside and stood beside Lucien, still throbbing from his ministrations.
Wow. They'd pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous, low-slung wooden lodge, the mother of all log cabins. The undulating timber facade and white-washed window frames were in perfect harmony with the surroundings, all the way up to the slopes of its grass-covered roof. It looked organic, as if it had grown from the earth around it rather than been crafted by man.
But however beautiful the building was, it paled in comparison with the scenery that surrounded it. Set on the shores of a glittering fjord, whose waters reflected the pale sunlight, the house stood against a backdrop of soaring granite mountains, their tips blanketed with snow. The whole vista exuded Nordic health and understated wealth, a luxury, boutique getaway for those lucky enough to be able to afford it.
Sophie scanned around for other people. There were none.
"Is it a hotel?" she asked, doubtfully.
"No. It's mine."
"Yours?" It shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it did. Lucien was such an urbanite; it seemed at odds with his lifestyle that he should choose to own a home here amongst these pristine, quiet mountains. Sophie realised she’d had the same kind of thought when she’d first seen his UK home. He refused to conform to easy stereotypes, she reflected, and he was all the more unreadable for it.
The car slunk away as Lucien led her through the main door directly into the living area of an airy, open plan lodge. Sophie slowed to a halt, drinking in the way nature blended with luxury to create a space just as breathtaking as Lucien's other home. It was very different, and yet it had similar nuances of clean style and elegance that made it uniquely, subtly, and totally Lucien Knight.
Soft wood juxtaposed with exposed stone complemented the soft white walls. Uncluttered but never stark, cool but not cold. One side of the sunken lounge area was almost entirely made up of glass; huge picture windows paid appropriate homage to the glorious views beyond. Sophie found herself drawn towards it, struck by the ambient warmth inside compared to the crisp freshness outside, as she laid a palm against the glass.
"You've surprised me," she said, and turned to face him.
Lucien rested his arm on the mantel of the massive stone fireplace. "Why so?"
"This place... the Arctic Circle... it's so, umm..." Sophie paused as she fished around for the right phrase. "So, well, unexpectedly wholesome," she finished eventually.
"I see." Lucien reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. "Wholesome."
He placed the object from his pocket in the centre of the wooden mantel and turned back to watch Sophie suck in a surprised breath. Sunlight glinted off the silver, acorn-shaped butt plug.
"Before nightfall, Ms. Black," Lucien promised. "You're blushing again." He sauntered over and admonished her with a tap on the end of her nose. "Let me show you around."
Notes of pride slid into his tone as he gave her the guided tour, and Sophie could well see why. The whole place had been engineered around the stunning mountain views, and each room flowed organically into the next. Dove-grey flagstones lined the floors underfoot, and soft suede fabrics and fur throws added warm, welcoming touches to sofas that begged to be lounged on. The whole place exuded comfort and warmth, and Sophie found herself utterly enchanted.
"Lunch?"
The normality of Lucien's question caught her unaware. It was disorienting to shift constantly from the plane of near-fantasy - this movie-star lifestyle, the ever-present undercurrents of desire - back to ordinary reality, but on reflection she found she was more than ready to eat.
He led her back through to the dining room, which on previous inspection had been empty. Not any more. An older woman dressed smartly in an understated black trouser suit looked up and smiled warmly at Lucien as she put the finishing touches to the feast she'd laid out on the dining table.
"Everything is ready for you, Mr. Knight." She spoke in lightly accented English and inclined her head towards Sophie to include her in the conversation. "Enjoy."
And they did. Sophie was blown away by the array of fresh seafood, some warm and some cold, all served with dips and bread. It was delicious, and she sampled a little of everything as Lucien explained how he'd had the lodge designed and built five years back.
"Why here?" she asked, as he topped up her wine glass with crisp, chilled Chablis. "Why Norway? It seems such an unusual choice."
"Where would you expect?"
Sophie shrugged. "I don't know. If I could choose anywhere, I’d probably go for somewhere with sunshine."
"We have sunshine in Norway." Lucien gestured towards the window and the undeniable gleam of sunlight off the fjord.
"We?"
Lucien paused momentarily. "We. They. What difference does it make?"
"Nothing, really... you just sounded… territorial."
Lucien swirled his wine around in his glass, and his downward glance felt like the curtain falling on the conversation. It was too late though. Sophie suddenly knew exactly why here, why Norway. This was more than a holiday home for Lucien. This was his homeland.
Lucien glanced at her empty plate and finished his wine. "Come on. I'll show you outside."
Sophie snuggled deeper into her coat, Lucien's black scarf wrapped around her neck as he took her hand and led her around the outside of the cabin. She was utterly smitten with the majesty of the mountains, and breathed in deeply to fill her lungs with invigorating air. Her earlier realisation about Lucien's heritage seemed so obvious in retrospect, he looked every inch a proud Norwegian now she'd made the connection.
He was the most enigmatic man she'd ever met. On the one hand he was a Thor-like sex warrior, perfectly at home slinking around the debaucherous outposts of his commercial empire, and on the other hand he was a man who craved his solitude and privacy and loved this rare and extra-ordinary setting. It was a heady combination, and it left Sophie wanting very much to know the roots of this man who existed between the two extremes.
"And this is the jacuzzi."
Lucien's words broke her reverie, and she refocused on the wrap-around deck that surrounded the cabin. They were at the back of the lodge now, facing directly out over the lake and distant mountains. A large, steaming hot tub squatted square in front of her, and a smile of pure bliss touched her lips at the idea of climbing into the warm bubbles and looking out at that view. Lucien splayed his hands to the side, obviously especially proud of this extra special touch.
"Fancy a dip?" she asked, saucily echoing the question he'd asked her back in the Gateway Club.
"Maybe later."
"Touché."
Sophie trailed her fingers in the warm water.
"I can't anyway. I didn't bring a bikini."
Lucien rolled his eyes. "As if I’d let you wear one." He pressed a button and the jacuzzi stopped bubbling. "Until tonight." The sudden silence on the deck was deafening. "Let's go inside." Lucien took her still damp hand in his own warm one. "There's something we need to do."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Back in the lounge, Sophie was gladdened to see the freshly laid fire crackling in the fireplace. The air outside held a wintry nip, and she kicked off her shoes and moved to stand in front of the flames to warm her bottom. Lucien shrugged out of his jacket and crossed to stand in front of her to unwind her scarf, then unbuttoned her coat and eased it down her arm
s. Despite the loss of a layer, Sophie felt warmer rather than chilled, a combination of the effect of the fire and the heat of desire that always found her when she looked at this man.
"The staff have all gone home." He stroked a fingertip over her collarbone.
The meaning behind his words was clear. We're alone here, we can do whatever we like. The fire that warmed her backside was nothing to the blaze his words sparked in her belly. Lucien's eyes slid over her shoulder, and without turning around she knew what he was looking at. The acorn. His eyes moved back to hers, a glint of amusement in them as he ran a hand behind her and fondled her bottom.
"Now strip off and bend over."
Sophie's eyes widened in alarm, but Lucien shook his head.
"I'm joking, Sophie." His hand still stroked her denim-clad backside. "Haven't you learned yet to trust me?" His other hand moved to play with the top button of her blouse. "By the time we get around to using that acorn, you'll be begging for it."
Sophie's gaze lingered on his mouth. She didn't doubt him for a second. His lips parted a little, and she leaned in close. Nose to nose, breath to breath, until she watched his eyelids drift down a second before his mouth touched hers.
Desire coursed through her as he took his own sweet time with the kiss, his hands stroking her body as his tongue danced a slow tango with hers. Sophie felt her nipples peak as his palms brushed her breasts, and she reached for her buttons to remove the barriers of clothing. She wanted his hands on her skin.
"Too warm, Ms. Black?"
Lucien helped her off with her blouse and shed his shirt too, then paused to run a finger down the strap of her lace bra. "Shall I take this off too?" Sophie got the distinct impression that the question did not require much of an answer, but she played along.
"I am still rather hot," she supplied, and all but batted her eyelids.
Lucien unsnapped it in one assured flick.