choice.’
‘I make my own choices, Kristine. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, and I’m not going to let you slip through my fingers. Two people can travel light—together.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ she said with deep conviction.
‘Then I’ll have to prove you wrong. What time can I meet you tomorrow?’
‘We’re not going to meet!’
‘Yes, we are. I’ll camp on the doorstep all night if that’s what it takes.’
He was entirely capable of doing so. Feeling besieged and frightened, Kristine repeated, ‘We’re not going to meet and we’re not going to make love—you must leave me alone, Lars.’
Drumming his fingers on the wheel, he changed tactics. ‘My grandmother is a difficult and cantankerous old woman. But despite her money and her beloved Asgard she has had more than her share of tragedy...and I love her. She doesn’t respect Sigrid—as I’m sure she respects you.’
‘It doesn’t matter what she thinks of me,’ Kristine cried. ‘Don’t you understand that?’
‘I’m refusing to,’ Lars said grimly. ‘I’m sure you’ve had more than enough of her right now—but, by one of those coincidences that I could do without, tomorrow is her birthday and I’m taking her out for dinner...I want you to join us.’
Kristine didn’t even hesitate. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow’s Friday and Harald will be back.’
He bit off the words. ‘So Harald has more of a claim on you than I?’
‘He’s my first cousin and the first member of my family that I’m to meet...it’s important to me,’ she said rebelliously.
Knuckles tight around the wheel, Lars said, ‘Then I’ll phone you tomorrow morning.’
She opened her door, said breathlessly, ‘I won’t answer,’ and ran for the front steps of Harald’s building. If she’d only stayed on Karl Johansgate the night before last, she thought sickly, none of this would have happened. And tomorrow morning would she really be capable of letting the phone ring unanswered?
The lift creaked its way upwards, slowly enough for her to decide that what she very much wanted to do was put her head on the pillow and have a good cry. Pulling out her key, she unlocked the door to the flat.
A light was shining in Harald’s bedroom.
CHAPTER THREE
STANDING in the hall, Kristine called uncertainly, ‘Hello...Harald?’
‘Kristine—is that you? I got back early.’
A young man swathed in one of the black bathroom towels came into the foyer. He had a shock of wet brown hair and a cheerful grin, and the hug he gave her was as brotherly as she could have wished. Kissing her on both cheeks Harald said, ‘This calls for champagne, this meeting of cousins after so many years. And how pretty a cousin you are,’ he finished gallantly.
No undercurrents in Harald, Kristine thought. She could travel anywhere with him and be quite safe. To her horror her eyes flooded with tears.
In quick concern he said, ‘You have a bruise on your cheek—has something happened?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she said shakily.
‘I love stories and I love champagne. Let me put on some clothes and then you must tell me everything.’
Under the influence of champagne on top of all the wine she had drunk Kristine told Harald a great deal, although not quite everything. He said decisively, ‘I’ll take you out for dinner and dancing tomorrow night; you don’t need another evening of grandmothers. You’re sure you’re not falling in love with the grandson, though? That would be very romantic.’
Kristine sneezed as the bubbles of champagne tickled her nose. ‘Sex and romance aren’t the same thing at all,’ she announced, just as if she knew what she was talking about.
‘Combined they are irresistible, though,’ said Harald, raising his glass in a toast.
She and her cousin seemed to find quite a lot of things to toast as the night progressed. It was three a.m. when they went to bed, and at nine-thirty Kristine woke up with a hangover. Probably the most expensive hangover she’d ever had, she decided, stepping into the shower and turning on the water full blast, a treatment that did not appear to help.
When she went into the kitchen, Harald took one look at her face and said briskly, ‘A light breakfast at an outdoor café, that will make you feel better.’
It did not seem to be the time to assert her financial independence. ‘All right,’ she said meekly.
They walked out into the sunshine, which was blindingly bright. ‘Ouch,’ said Kristine, staggering a little.
Harald put his arm around her, dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pair of aviator’s dark glasses, and positioned them on her nose. Then he steered her across the street. The man who had been seated on the stone wall watching all this got up and said tightly, ‘Good morning, Kristine.’
The glasses made everything a surreal shade of blue and the man was Lars. Camped on her doorstep as he had threatened. Groping for her manners, Kristine said, ‘My cousin Harald...Lars Bronstad.’
Lars gave Harald a curt nod, then reached out and removed the glasses. ‘What the devil have you been doing with yourself?’
‘Champagne on top of wine,’ she said, blinking into the light and keeping a firm hold on Harald’s arm. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I have to go to Lillehammer on business today. Spend the day with me tomorrow.’
Harald said casually, ‘I’m going to the airport tomorrow morning, Kristine—my girlfriend’s flying in from Milan.’
She gave him a dirty look. Then she said ungraciously to Lars, ‘I suppose you can phone me in the morning. If you want to.’
‘Do you travel so light that you can’t even commit yourself a day ahead of time?’ he exploded.
‘Don’t yell, it hurts,’ she said fractiously. ‘I can’t even decide which side of the street to walk on today, Lars.’
Disregarding Harald as if he didn’t exist, Lars seized her chin in one hand, kissed her full on the mouth, and then put the glasses back on her nose. ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said, and strode away down the street.
Harald said, fascinated, ‘Well...you’ve made a big hit, little cousin.’
‘He’s not used to women who say no. Harald, I’m in urgent need of coffee. Black coffee.’
‘He’s in love with you.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense—we haven’t known each other for three days and all we do is fight.’
‘He’s
