Outside the windows of the cab, the scenery was very different compared with what she’d seen on her autumn visit to Norway. The bright, crisp days she'd experienced back then had given way to long polar winter nights. It was barely midday, yet it seemed like twilight. Purple-pink skies hung low over buildings prickled with brightly lit windows; offices and industrial buildings that gave way to prettily illuminated shops and cafes as they drove into the heart of the city.

Sophie couldn't help but be swept away by the Christmas card perfection of the place. It looked like a scene straight out of a romantic movie, akin to being captured inside the world’s prettiest snow globe. If a reindeer-pulled sleigh had drawn up alongside them she wouldn't have been surprised; it was that magical. Hope seeped into her bones. This amazing place was Lucien's homeland.

He was here. Just knowing that he was close by made her heart beat faster inside her ribcage, and the idea of him being here alone and grieving almost broke it in two.

Hold on, my beautiful man. I'm coming.

Lucien left Olaf Karlsen's office, his head bent against the freshly falling snow as he crossed the road behind an oncoming taxi. The girl in the back had her face turned away from the window, but he glimpsed a cherry red coat and a swish of blonde hair, so that for the briefest of moments she stole his breath because she reminded him so acutely of Sophie.

And then she was gone, and he was left kicking himself into touch for the millionth time since he'd walked away from Sophie Black.

It had become his daily battle; fighting the almost violent need to call her, imagining that he saw her on every street corner, not letting himself get lost in the memory of how she felt in his arms. She came to him every night as he slept, enveloping him with her lush curves and her easy laughter, bathing him in her warmth and her light. The crushing, bittersweet moments between sleep and wakefulness were the worst of all: clammy, grey seconds when she melted away and he realised he was alone.

Lucien Knight was a man on the edge. On the edge of becoming an orphan, and on the edge of falling in love.

Sophie dropped onto the neatly made bed of her small, functional hotel room overlooking the harbour. She'd nodded along with the travel agent as he'd extolled the virtues of the hotel a couple of days before. She'd have booked into a shack if it meant she could fly to Tromso, but all the same she appreciated the fact that he'd found her somewhere central and comfortable. Much as she hoped that Lucien would welcome her arrival here in Norway, it had felt necessary to ensure she had somewhere concrete to travel to.

Up to that point she'd given little consideration to the fact that she was travelling overseas alone for the first time in her life, and she allowed herself a small glow of satisfaction at the fact that she'd arrived safely without any hitches. It had been undeniably strange being alone on the aeroplane surrounded by families heading to Norway to spend Christmas in the snow. She'd closed her eyes and thought only of Lucien, every passing minute bringing her closer to him. She still hadn't contacted him. Her fingers had itched to call him as soon as she'd spoken with Kate at Knight Inc., but she'd held off. If he was going to reject her, he'd have to do it face to face here in Norway.

And if he did, then she would accept it.

She hadn't come here to beg for his love. She'd come to be with him because he was going through something that no man should go through alone.

All the rest could wait until later.

She settled back on the bed and glanced at her watch. She could rest for an hour or so and then she had a bus to catch.

Lucien shed his winter gear as he entered the lodge later that day, feeling for his father’s unopened letter as he hung up his coat. It lay heavy and hot in his palm as he made his way through the quiet rooms towards the master suite. He was beyond relieved to be home, to close the door on the craziness of the world for a while. He tossed the letter onto his bedside table. There would be time for that later. Or maybe never.

A glance inside confirmed that the saunarium had been prepared as he'd requested. "Thank you," he murmured into the silence, shucking off the rest of his clothes and opening the door. The welcoming heat hit him as he dropped down onto the planked bench, and he laid his head back and huffed the air out of his chest.

Even for him, the load felt heavy today. He was fortunate that his business was staffed by good people who could manage things without him for a little while, but he was accustomed to his working life being his be all and end all. He'd lived and breathed his career for as long as he could remember, yet over the last few months he knew he'd taken his eye off the ball. He'd had no choice, because his eyes had been on Sophie Black.

A small smile touched his lips as he lay back and let himself remember the last time they'd used the saunarium together. He'd never forget the way Sophie had looked when he'd opened the door. Relaxed. Naked. Touching herself, her legs parted and her eyes closed. His hand moved instinctively to his cock, already hard at the thought of Sophie, despite his exhaustion. He flung his other arm across his eyes as he stroked himself, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip and his head full of images of the only woman who could make him forget about the unopened letter on his bedside table, and the dying man in the city hospital.

In the shower a little while later he reached behind his expensive toiletries for the bottle of apple shampoo Sophie had left behind on her last visit. He flipped the lid and inhaled the fresh scent, his eyes screwed shut as the all too familiar smell filled the shower enclosure. Sophie. Jesus, he missed her, and he hated himself for not being able to stop the almost physical pain that came with thinking about her. He scrubbed his hair unnecessarily roughly and cut his shower short to crawl straight into bed, even though it was barely six in the evening.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sophie pulled on her mittens as she sat in the back of yet another warm taxi, sickly nervous now that she was on the last leg of her journey. She couldn't quite believe that she had successfully negotiated Tromso's public transport system and then managed to find a taxi to bring her out to the lodge, but she had, and the driver had just let her know that their destination lay just up ahead. What if he wasn't there? She swallowed hard and put the thought out of her head. He would be there. He had to be.

Presently the familiar long, low outline of Lucien's home swung into view, welcoming lights aglow at the windows confirming that it was indeed inhabited. Sophie didn't know whether she felt relieved or even more nervous, but she was here at last.

Out of the warm confines of the car it was incredibly cold and incredibly beautiful, a still, crystalline winter wonderland. The skies overhead held no trace of the aurora tonight, there was only inky velvet studded with diamonds. She raised her hand to tap on the door, but it started to open before her hand even made contact with the wood.