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“You may call me by my name.”
“But you’re the prince.”’
“I’m third in line to the throne. I’m no one. Please call me Sigurd. Titles are not for me. I prefer it.”
How did that make the prince seem twice as attractive? Ugh.
“So, Sigurd.”
“Yes?”
“I see you have a whole set-up out here. You’re not planning on sleeping outdoors, are you?”
“I am.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I need to be alone. You’re here. You will not be sleeping outside. Ergo, I sleep outside.”
He needs to be alone, but he’s still here?
Oh, so I’m the problem. I get it. I think.
“If you want me to go, I’ll just go,” I say. “There’s no sense in you sleeping outside.”
He doesn’t answer for a full, eternal minute. My heart slams against my breastbone. Is he undecided? Does he want me to stay?
“You have to stay.”
I say, “That’s fair since I’m the renter and you’re the trespasser.”
His rough words almost run over mine before I finish. “You have to stay because I cannot let you leave to tell people my location.”
This gives me pause. Why would a prince hide at a rustic cabin in the woods when he has an entire palace and staff at his disposal? True, he is the most shy of all the royal siblings. Yet, I understand the need to run away sometimes. So I tread lightly because he seems on edge.
“I would not tell a soul I saw you, Your Highness.”
And, if we ever get around to talking about that tip, I’ll gladly hand over what I have left if it will help him hide out a little longer.
Our eyes connect, and my hammering heart may burst out of my chest. I shiver visibly, but not from the cold.
Sigurd gestures with his chin toward the cabin. “You should go inside. Get warm.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. And I’ll find somewhere else to go in the morning.”
“It’ll be cold out here for you, too.”
“Hence the fire,” he says. Do I detect a note of sarcasm from the third prince?
I laugh. “You can’t stay out here all night, Your Hi—Sigurd.”
“I’ve camped out in far worse conditions than this.” I quiver again as I feel his eyes travel over me, from the top of my head to the tips of my damp toes. “Far, far worse,” he adds softly.
I swallow, knowing what I’m about to say might seem forward. “You can stay inside. You don’t have to camp out.”
“I like the outdoors.”
