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He stares, his eyes dropping to my bare shoulders. I try not to squirm. When his eyes drift up my neck, pausing on my lips, a new kind of heat curls lazily through my core. I drop my chin, reaching for the mug of tea on the side table.
“Why were you outside in a peacoat this close to the Arctic Circle?”
“It’s all I have,” I admit. “I thought…” I frown, stealing a glance at him over my mug of tea.
Big mistake.
His eyes drill holes through me. They make fire burn hotter in my core and steal the words right out of my mouth. As he lounges back in the chair, his long limbs extending toward me, I have the urge to crawl to him. To curl up on his lap and purr against his chest, just to feel the power that lies within.
Blinking, I look down again. “My grandmother was supposed to pick me up. There was no one else. I had no cell phone reception. All the taxis were gone. I had no choice.”
When the Prince doesn’t answer, I look up. His lips are pinched, but it doesn’t take away from their fullness. They’d feel good to kiss. I just know they would. A shadow of hair covers the bottom half of his face, as if he’s the kind of man who never quite looks clean-shaven. Stubble grows within an hour of a razor touching his skin.
The Prince parts his lips. “Mrs. Reed is your grandmother.”
It doesn’t sound like a question, but I nod anyway. His eyes are still on me, tracing the lines of my face and dropping down to my body again. He watches me take a sip of tea, catching every movement I make. I hate the way he stares, but I don’t want him to stop. He scares me, like a deep, primal trill in my brain telling me to run away.
“Are you here to replace her?” he asks, his words slow. He blinks slowly, then arches a brow. As if the idea of me being here is laughable.
I frown. “No. Why would I be replacing her? Where is she?”
Suddenly, her absence sends panic shooting down my spine. I glance around the lodge, seeing only the Prince, the doctor, and a huge, bearded beast of a man standing by the door.
No Grandma. No smell of cinnamon and cherries.
No safety.
Three strange men. And me, mostly naked. Weak. Exposed. I suck in a breath, gripping the mug to stop my hands from trembling.
“You haven’t heard?” For the first time, the Prince’s voice holds a hint of surprise. I meet his eye, seeing a twitch in his eyebrow. His eyes flash, golden-brown gemstones looking predatory and warm all at once.
“Heard what?” I reply. “Your Highness,” I add as an afterthought. Am I supposed to curtsy? I’m not wearing any clothes.
He tilts his head, interest sparking across his face. “Your grandmother had a slip on the ice. She’s been transferred to the hospital in Stirling.”
“What? When? I spoke to her this morning.” I sit up, the blanket slipping. I catch it, but not before the Prince’s eyes flick down. I blush, warmth creeping up my neck as I claw the blanket back up my chest. I want clothing. I need dignity. Some scrap of power in this deeply unbalanced situation.
The Prince glances at the clock on the wall. “About six hours ago.”
“I was on the train. Flew into Stirling then took a train right away. I didn’t check my phone because reception was spotty and I was working…”
“You’re here to visit her, then? Where are your papers? I wasn’t able to find any security clearances or authorizations in your things.”
“You went through my things?” Heat spears my chest. My cheeks flush.
The Prince looks amused. “Among other things.” His eyes drift down the blankets covering my body, and my blush deepens.
He didn’t. He’s not… Did the Prince of Nord undress me?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to stop my heart from racing right out of my chest. No. No, no, no. No way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t reality. It’s a dream. A nightmare. I’m dead. This is what death feels like. I pinch the inside of my arm, trying to wake myself up. I fell asleep on the train, and this is all some sort of hallucination.
I did not walk to the Summer Palace, get so cold I became severely hypothermic, and then have to be undressed by the Prince of freaking Nord. No way. Nun-uh. And Grandma isn’t in the hospital, and I’m not here all on my own. This isn’t happening.
My eyes snap open again, and I do my best to square my shoulders. “I’m here to work, Your Highness. I was engaged by the royal family to redesign the Summer Palace. This is my first site visit, where I intend to take photos of important features that will be retained, and go through the palace archives for original building drawings and survey information. I need them to finalize my design before approval by the Crown. Construction starts next summer.”
By some miracle, my voice doesn’t tremble. My heart, on the other hand, is thumping so hard I think my ribs might crack.
The Prince arches a brow. I hate that I amuse him. I hate that he looks at me like I’m some little plaything sent for his entertainment. I hate that I’m not wearing any clothes and that my body still feels cold, despite the warmth of the fire and the heat in my core.
