He looked her up and down.
‘Who did you say you were?’
IN TROUBLE, THAT was who she was.
‘I asked you a question,’ he repeated.
Yes, he had, and he expected an answer, she interpreted from the way he just stood there, arms folded, on closer inspection less like a bear and more like some angry Norse god.
‘Speak,’ he commanded.
She literally jumped but then her training kicked in. She handled tour groups of small children regularly and knew one had to establish rules and boundaries if chaos wasn’t to ensue.
‘I think you need to calm down,’ she said shakily, aware her heart was beating so fast she should probably take her own advice.
He took out his phone.
‘Wh-what are you doing?’
‘Ringing the police.’
Oh, that wasn’t good.
Sybella didn’t think, she just made a snatch for his phone. It wasn’t the cleverest thing she could have done, but once the area’s constabulary were involved this would be around the village in a flash. Her parents-in-law already thought she wasn’t handling her life to their satisfaction. It would be another reason why she and Fleur should move in with them.
He held the phone just out of her reach, which was easy for him, given he appeared to be a god stepped down from Asgard. Sybella wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d grabbed a stake of lightning while he was at it. Only he was looking down at her as if she were a puppy with muddy paws that had suddenly decided to jump on him.
It was beyond frustrating.
‘Please,’ she tried again, ‘this is just a misunderstanding.’
‘Nyet, this is trespass. I want you off my property.’
Sybella shook her head in disbelief. ‘Are you going to let me explain?’
‘Nyet.’
She stepped up to him and laid her hand on his forearm. ‘Please, you have to listen. I’m not a trespasser.’
He frowned.
‘I’ve never trespassed in my life. Not knowingly.’
Which was when the committee members of the Heritage Trust appeared out of the side entrance of Edbury Hall, humming like a hive of wasps.
Sybella’s heart began to beat so fast she seriously thought she might pass out.
‘Who in the hell are they?’ he demanded, because clearly nothing was getting past this guy.
‘The Heritage Trust committee,’ she croaked. This was a disaster! She had to go and warn them.
Turning quickly, she didn’t notice the bag at her feet until her boot caught on it and Sybella found herself for the second time tonight arms extended, launched head first for the snow.
Strong hands caught her around the waist and literally lifted her, this time bringing her into contact with his big, hard body. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was the wrong move. Sensation zipped through her body like an electrical charge and it dipped right between her legs.
Sybella panicked and tried to pull away but he had her held tight.
‘Stop wriggling,’ he ordered gruffly and she stopped. Mainly because her face was dangerously close to his and a part of her was finding the physical contact thrilling.
‘Can you—just—look, stop holding me!’ She was mumbling this into his bare neck, because apparently he thought hugging her to him was a good idea.
It wasn’t. Even with the layers of fabric between them she’d been a man-free zone for so long it was like landing on planet Mars and discovering there wasn’t enough gravity to hold you down. Worse, he smelt awfully good, manly in a way she had forgotten, and, combined with his warm solidity, she was beginning to enjoy all the contact.
Not interested in sex? She’d clearly sent a message out into the universe and the sneaky gods had sent down one of their own to make a liar of her.
‘Please,’ she begged, turning her face to meet his eyes, which was a mistake because he was looking back at her and they were dangerously close.
She could see how thick his golden eyelashes were, and his eyes had seemingly soaked up the colours around them like the Northern Lights she’d seen on a documentary about the Arctic. She could have sworn a moment ago they were icy grey.
Her panicked breath caught and everything telescoped down to his amazing eyes before his gaze swooped to her mouth. He looked as if he was going to kiss her or was that just her idea?
Panic renewed, Sybella began to thrash about in earnest. ‘Please let me go before this all gets out of hand!’
* * *
On the contrary, Nik was confident he had it all in hand.
He would deal with the small tide of humanity edging towards them, and then he would find out why there appeared to be no security at all in operation at his grandfather’s home.
But first he needed to deal with what he had in his arms, the problem being he wasn’t sure what that was. He’d turned his head to find something other than what he’d first imagined. She had a vivid face, eyes that seemed to be searching his and the kind of sensuous full mouth that gave men creative thoughts. She also smelt of flowers, which was distracting him. He set her down in the snow.
‘Do not move,’ he told her.
He went around to the cab of the SUV and turned on the headlights to high beam, capturing the dozen rugged-up intruders like a spotlight on a stage.
‘I’m Nikolai Aleksandrovich Voronov,’ he said in a deep voice that didn’t need to be raised. On its own it carried across the front façade of the house and possibly beyond. ‘If you’re not off the estate in the next two minutes, I’ll have you all arrested for trespass.’
He didn’t wait to see what they would do. He knew what they would do. Scatter and run.
Nik hoisted his bag over his shoulder and gave his attention to the unhappy girl, standing there encased in what looked like cladding. In the dark she no longer looked like the sensual siren he’d imagined a moment ago and was back to being the abominable snowman.
‘You can go with your friends,’ he said with a curt nod, before turning his back on her.
Sleet was falling more heavily as he approached the house.
He used the side entrance lit by lamp posts that glowed through the snowy gloom like something out of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, a book his Anglophile grandfather had given to him when he was a boy. No wonder the old man loved the place. Nik saw only an investment and right now a heavy oak door he pushed open with his shoulder.
He was aware he’d been followed, alerted by his companion’s crunching footsteps over the stones and her hitching breath, because clearly the woman was out of shape with all that extra weight she was carrying.
He waited for Rapunzel because he wasn’t in the habit of closing doors in women’s faces. Another glance reinforced what he already knew. She was tall, abetted by a pair of what looked like hiking boots, and the parka and trousers gave her a square look not identifiable as female in the dark.
‘What do you want?’
She had planted herself just inside the threshold.
‘To explain.’
‘I’m not