Читать книгу Frozen - Morgan Q O'Reilly - Страница 6

Chapter 2

Gunnar looked at the woman beside him. She huddled in her parka as if she’d never get warm, though how she could be cold with the red-hot, silk underwear she wore… Just let him touch her and she’d be warm. His fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

No, don’t think about touching this woman. She’s not The One. Couldn’t be. The noise he’d heard at the depot had been the sound of a child dropping a toy. Possibly even luggage trolleys colliding. Thor’s Hammer was just a legend anyway.

Too bad. Bleach her long, braided hair white, give her blue lenses for her eyes, and she’d almost look like the princess. Crown Princess Coreen Ileana Adelaide Elizabeth Audelhuk, Duchess of NyUppland and NyDalarna, first in line to the throne upon which sat an aging king, was the very essence of Nordian womanhood, but she wasn’t The One. As her loyal subject, and even more loyal friend, he’d been unable to deny the special request of the princess to pick up this woman. This woman who could be the twin sister of the princess, if one didn’t pay attention to her coloring. Or her attitude.

Then again, many of the women inhabiting the palace could very well serve as a double for the princess. It didn’t help that all nine of the king’s daughters had similar names, all ending in ‘oreen’. King Bjorn had been a busy man in his prime. Just not busy enough to produce sons. And only one daughter from his official wife, Queen Elke, or so the stories said. Rumor included tales of a twin who’d died at birth, but he’d never been able to find proof. Coreen merely laughed it off as palace intrigue. Daughters from the concubines didn’t count in the line of succession. Coreen was the duly acknowledged heiress-apparent to the throne, followed by a male cousin with a duchy.

Hence the confusing point of the damn Profetia.

If his grandfather’s ability to interpret the ancient document hadn’t already been proven fifty times over as genuine, he would have thought the old man had cooked up this scheme with either the king or Coreen. So here Gunnar was, in the prime of his life, traveling from city to city to attend boring social functions, all in name of searching for a woman who would, according to The Profetia, produce the first male heir in fifty years.

Which made no sense at all. Gunnar was twelfth in the line of succession. How could he father the next king? Especially if the Crown Princess wasn’t The One, destined to be his bride? He would have gladly married Coreen, but it just wasn’t to be. While he was fond of her and admired her, she’d never rocked his soul like the ringing of Thor’s Hammer. Or at least that was the feeling he was supposed to have upon discovering his Promised One, according to his grandfather and the king.

Gunnar shook his head and turned his attention back to Noreen, the mystery woman from beyond the galaxy.

How did she get her skin so brown? Was it naturally that way? Somehow he didn’t think her red hair was a natural color. Even though he didn’t travel off-world, he did read and study the news and had never seen a being with hair such a color. At least not with that skin and eye color combined. Or in humanoid form come to think of it. And what a form. She was of a height and shape to mold perfectly to him. Long legs curved into hips just wide enough and rounded enough to fit his hands. A narrow waist curved up into a lean torso, which presented breasts perfect for holding and suckling. All attributes he knew would make her a fine mother. Motherhood be damned, they were all perfect attributes to take to his bed. He wanted to suckle on the perfectly shaped breasts he’d seen outlined under the red silk just before she’d pulled on the heavy outer gear.

Trying to shift to a more comfortable position, he had to content himself with looking at her large, thick-lashed eyes, pert nose and lush lips. Red cream colored her lips at the moment, as much to protect from the elements as to emphasize their shape. Lips he could imagine wrapped around a certain part of his body which was uncomfortably throbbing at the moment. Lips he longed to taste.

He swallowed a groan at the sex-drenched thoughts overrunning his head and body.

Where were these thoughts coming from? Sure, he appreciated a beautiful female, but he didn’t spend time dreaming of peeling off their clothes to see if their skin color was the same over every inch of their bodies. Granted, with the women of his planet, he already knew the answer to that particular mystery. He’d seen photos of people who lounged in the sunlight with the express purpose of changing their skin color. Often times they covered one part of their body so it remained its natural color. Did Noreen do that? Or was she the same all over?

No, there was no point dreaming about the strange woman beside him. He knew who his mate was. He just hadn’t met her yet. Which was damn perplexing, because he’d traveled to nearly every city on the planet, and attended more tedious court functions than he could count, in an effort to find his Promised One. He was sure he’d met every Nordian woman of the right age. All in the name of finding The One. The Profetia said he’d know her the moment they met. The Profetia also said she’d be one of his people, not an off-world stranger.

So why did this woman, Noreen, intrigue him so?

“You never said where you were born,” he reminded her.

“You’re right. I don’t see how it’s pertinent. I’m here to find out about your world. Why don’t you tell me what makes all this cold and snow special?”

Sharp, this one was. He wasn’t used to women with tongues this fast. Most tended to go tongue-tied in his presence. Between his title and the mystique of The Profetia, it was if the gods had placed an aura around him, elevating him on a pedestal. Though he found her reluctance to talk about herself frustrating, in a way it was refreshing. A challenge. And the bed thing. There was a question there. What concerned her? His word was good. Mostly. Well, usually in that area at least. She might tempt him otherwise. In the close quarters of the cabin her soft scent teased him, pushing away the usual odor of hot metal and fuel.

“What makes snow special?” He repeated her words to refocus and mentally rolled his eyes. Now he sounded like an imbecile who couldn’t string two thoughts together. So much for the fancy education, or the years of running a duchy and the king’s intelligence network.

“Yes. What makes your world so wonderful you’ve never left it?”

“Good question. I’m not sure you’d believe me. You’ll have to see it for yourself.”

“Well then, it seems we don’t have much to discuss, do we?”

“You don’t want to come clean about something as simple as where you come from, why should I share the intimate details of a world I love? You give every appearance of not wanting to like this place. How can you call that objective reporting?”

“Tell me about these herds you mentioned earlier?”

“Know what a caribou is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they aren’t caribou.”

“Really.”

“Reindeer. Domesticated caribou. The first herds were brought with the original colonists from Earth five hundred some-odd years ago.” Just as the gods and people had been imported.

“So I’ve read. What makes them special?”

“You don’t want to talk about reindeer.”

“It seemed like a neutral topic. What else is there? I believe I read something about thermal pools. Tourists would find those interesting. People have been known to spend their whole lives in search of the perfect hot springs and mineral waters.”

“Ah yes, the thermal pools. Very nice places.” Especially since people bathed naked. As a general rule, Nordians were a fit and beautiful race, so it was a pleasant way to pass the time. None of those swimsuits he’d seen in travel articles. There were thermal pools on their route.

“Really? Care to elaborate?” she pressed, as he scanned the weather dials.

“I’d rather talk about what you know of The Profetia and The One.”

“Tell me about your connection to the royal family. Princess Coreen Audelhuk? Where does she fit into all of this?” she countered, with a little wave of her mittened hand.

It wasn’t that cold in the transport, so why did she wear them still?

“Good question,” he shot back at her. “How do you know the princess?”

The woman shrugged and rubbed her forehead. “I got a message one day,” she said wearily.

He wasn’t buying the act. Coreen used the very same gesture and tone on him when she wanted to avoid certain subjects. He’d seen the Queen and all the other palace women do it, as well as women across the planet. Were the more annoying habits of women universal?

“She’s the one who asked you to come here?”

The shrug, as an answer, was growing tiresome. Something didn’t mesh and, with most of his attention centered on driving the transport, he didn’t have time to figure it out. Once they connected with the convoy he’d have two nights and days to untangle the knot. And maybe a few other things. How long was her hair when released from the braid coiled at the back of her head?

“Look, it’s mid-day. There are some food packs in the cabinet under the bed. Do you mind picking out something for us to eat?” he suggested, instead of carrying the verbal hide-and-seek further.

“What kind of food packs?”

“For now, there are some self-heating ones. Easier to ingest while driving. Later, when we’ve connected to the convoy, I’ll put together something more appetizing.”

“Any special requests?” She loosened her restraint and spun her chair sideways.

“Surprise me, Noreen. That is your name, right?”

“Yes.”

Her short tone made him raise a brow. She brushed against his shoulder as she moved into the tiny space behind him. Even through the thick layers of clothing between them, he felt the electric shock. Noreen? She was an off-worlder. She shouldn’t have this effect on him. He shifted in his seat again. Would this arousal not ease?

“Which cabinet?” Her husky voice seemed to reach down into his very soul with her simple question.

He shook himself enough to tell her, then turned on the overhead light for her to see better. It also turned the windshield into a mirror, allowing him to watch her crouch to look through the cabinet. A few minutes later she handed him a foil pack radiating warmth and the scent of meatballs and noodles. She set another pack with hot tea in the holder near the steering wheel.

Though convenient, nourishing, and ultimately satisfying, the foil packs left a void in the dining experience. Sucking mashed meat in sauce through a tube was unnatural. It was just one more reason he looked forward to meeting up with the convoy. They’d have a real dinner tonight. Or, at least, as real as he could manage in these quarters.

“Not bad,” she pronounced after taking the empty packs to the trash. He watched her sit back and sip hot chocolate, her seat once again facing forward. “A dram of Lidarian mint brandy wouldn’t go astray here.” He wondered at the ever so fleeting wince that followed her statement.

“Is that one of the places you’ve traveled?”

“Lidaria? Yes, as a matter of fact. Lovely world. Fabulous beaches. Just left there before coming here.”

“Beaches? As in real sand and warm water?”

“Yes.” He wondered at the far away dreamy look in her eyes. What memory did she relive? He watched a flush warm her skin when her eyes cut back to his.

“Tell me about the beaches.” He wanted to hear her voice and felt nearly desperate for a safe topic to discuss. One where she’d do most of the talking. After the high-pitched simpers he’d had to listen to from hopeful women, her soft throaty tone was a balm to his ears. The mixed accent and slightly foreign cadence of her voice made him think of faraway places he’d only been mildly curious about before.

“Soft, pale gray sand, deep green waters, fruit trees every other step, flowers so bright and sweet-smelling it is difficult to believe they’re real. And the mint, well, it’s just everywhere.”

Another memory that brought a small smile to her face, followed by the hint of a frown quickly smoothed into a neutral expression.

“What did you do there?” he prompted.

“I enjoyed myself.” Her simple statement, made with small, wry smile made him want to grind his teeth. Must every word be pulled from her?

“What does that mean? What did you do to enjoy yourself?”

“I lounged on the beaches, swam in warm seas, and sailed across the waves. I drank sweet juices, ate all the fresh fruit I could stand and I enjoyed. The Lidarians are very friendly people.”

“Men?”

“Beautiful men,” she agreed, with another cryptic smile, and a stab of vicious jealousy slashed through his gut.

“I see.”

She looked at him with those distinctive eyes. “What do you see?”

“Nothing. None of my business anyway.” Purely to see how she’d react, he steered the transport toward a snow drift. Just enough to tilt the vehicle a little and tip her from her seat into his arms.

“Hey!” The moment the transport settled down again, she pushed away from him.

It hadn’t been long, but long enough for him to wrap his arm around her waist. That oh-so-very-slender, curvy waist he’d seen when she’d changed. Unexpected, the nearly paralyzing heat boiling his blood made it hard for him to breathe. Suddenly he had visions of pulling her into the bunk without the heavy outer clothing. The bunk was a cozy nest with a feather mattress and thick alpaca wool blanket. Often he’d wondered what it would feel like to spend a long, dark night there with The One in his arms.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused him safe on her side of the cab.

He merely grinned at her.

“I thought you were holding yourself pure?” Those disturbing dark brown eyes narrowed as she glared at him. He wanted to see the look in her eyes as he conquered her.

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like a warm armful every now and again.”

“Just exactly what do you mean?”

The heat of her glare spiked a feeling through him he’d never felt before. He’d had all the normal urges, and had even indulged in self pleasure while dreaming of his woman, but never had he felt the need so fast, so strong, and so absolutely intense.

“It means I enjoy the company of a beautiful woman as much as the next guy. Probably as much as you enjoy the company of a beautiful man.” He returned her stare, until the transport glanced off the side of a snow drift and nearly tipped him into her arms. Too bad he wore his safety harness.

As if reminded, she fastened her harness again and he felt a sense of loss. He’d been hoping to lay the transport over and give her no excuse to crawl off again.

“Will the ride be this tippy once we join the convoy?” Annoyance was transmitted by her glare and snippy tone. Cute. It made him want to smile more.

“No, it will be nice and smooth.” Except for the uphill and downhill portions. Now that could be fun while sleeping.

Judging by her glare she was beginning to question his definition of pure, and her definition of Hell.