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The Accidental Heir
Susan Stephens
The last of her clan, Princess Astrid steps up to claim her birth right as ruler of the Arctic lands of Hammersvik. But first she must complete the rigorous training her advisors insist upon.Her unlikely tutor is Karl Thorberg, Prince of the neighbouring lands, intrepid explorer and reckless thrill-seeker. He insists pampered Astrid leave her palace and experience, first hand, the wild Arctic landscape she will rule.As the freezing Artic wind rages round them, passions are heating up between Astrid and Karl. It's not long before Karl is tempted into some very un-princely behaviour! But during their one night of indiscretion, he inadvertently resolves another condition of her reign - that she provides an heir!


The Accidental Heir
USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Susan Stephens


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
USA TODAY bestselling author Susan Stephen’s digital novella reveals just how hard it is to be a modern day Princess in this passionate and powerful story that will stay in your minds, long after the last page!
The last of her clan, Princess Astrid steps up to claim her birth right as ruler of the Arctic lands of Hammersvik. But first she must complete the rigorous training her advisors insist upon.
Her unlikely tutor is Karl Thorberg, Prince of the neighbouring lands, intrepid explorer and reckless thrill-seeker. He insists pampered Astrid leave her palace and experience, first hand, the wild Arctic landscape she will rule.
As the freezing Artic wind rages round them, passions are heating up between Astrid and Karl. It’s not long before Karl is tempted into some very un-princely behaviour! But during their one night of indiscretion, he inadvertently resolves another condition of her reign—that she provides an heir!
Don’t miss the other titles in this fantastic collection that celebrates Royal Babies all over the world!
Dedication
For Carly
Contents
Chapter One (#ud00def38-2221-5ed1-ad57-88ea4e710986)
Chapter Two (#u5740a6a0-e92a-5638-a218-8edae3982509)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
PRINCESS ASTRID OF Hammersvik backed into the palace cinema room balancing her phone, a stack of DVDs, a couple of magazines, a bulging make-up bag, a can of soda, a packet of gum and a giant-sized bag of sweets on top of the coffee-table books that had arrived in the post that morning.
‘Didn’t anyone think to put the light on in here?’ Muttering beneath her breath, she found the switch on the wall and through a series of elaborate manoeuvres managed to flip it on with the back of her head.
‘Turn that light out!’ a voice yelled out, startling her and nearly causing her to spill the precarious pile of items in her arms.
‘What the?’ Creeping forward, she took a closer look at the enormous slumbering form currently stretched out on one of the lavish leather daybeds arranged in front of the screen.
‘I don’t take orders,’ she informed the magnificent intruder. ‘I give them.’
Ha! The truth was the Royal Council had insisted she must instruct, demand, command and generally be what Astrid considered downright rude so people didn’t think she was weak. With so many unscrupulous pretenders to the throne only too eager to unseat her, it was imperative that she maintain a strong facade. She’d play along for now, but as soon as she had dealt with the troublemakers, she intended to win the respect of her people through fair treatment to all. She loved her country and would do everything she could to keep it safe.
But if she was going to test those royal wings on anyone...
‘Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?’ a deep male voice grumbled as she defiantly turned on all the lights.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Astrid could take most things in her stride, even a man who looked like a Viking and who had just proved that he could swear like one too.
She lurched back as the giant sprang up. He towered over her. His shoulders blocked out the light. His impressive torso was clad in a workmanlike jumper in an indeterminate shade of green, and his bottom half was snugly ensconced in a pair of jeans that left little doubt that...
He had very big feet indeed.
In his favour, the well-packed jeans were clean, though extremely worn in certain places. This must be the tutor she had sent for. He was a little unconventional, but academics could be eccentric beasts.
Dragging her gaze up his muscled body, she took in the steel-grey eyes, currently narrowed in a merciless appraisal that made her wish she hadn’t scraped her hair back in an unflattering ponytail and had thought to put on her make-up before coming in to watch the film. The firm mouth was seriously unamused, but it was also seriously sexy, and when he angled his chin to grind his jaw in a fair approximation of a man on the brink of meltdown, she caught sight of the most excellent straight white teeth. His stubble was dense and sharp, and his hair was way too long, thick and wild, but she had always fancied a bit of rough. Gently bred princesses could turn out that way.
‘You must be Princess Astrid.’
‘How did you guess? May I?’ She eased past him, trying not to touch his muscled torso. Having successfully negotiated a man built for action—and who knows what else—she somehow managed to land the photographic reference books safely on the coffee table in front of the sofa with a crash before flopping down and spraying her tutorial survival kit all around her on the cushions at her side.
‘Begin.’ she said, making a waving gesture with her hand.
Mountain Man remained motionless.
‘I’ve brought some films of my own just in case you didn’t think to bring any with you. I’m a very visual person,’ she said, letting her eyes roam slowly over his frame before raising them to his chiselled face and arching an eyebrow to let him know the double meaning was intended.
There had been a lot of lectures since Astrid had agreed to accept the throne. She had so much to learn about her country, especially the icy world in the far-north territories, which hardly anyone visited. This talk, entitled “Beyond the Arctic Circle,” was supposed to give her the insight she craved. After this there was just one more—very important—task on her to-do list, and that was a tricky one. She had a vague notion of sorting it out at the fertility clinic. She’d been shocked when the Royal Council had insisted she must have an heir, and within a year if possible. ‘We can’t be left in this sort of mess again,’ the worried councillors had explained.
And the current situation really was a mess. The late king had left no heirs, which had led to all sorts of people claiming the throne. Astrid had a genuine claim as a distant relative who lived in what was politely termed gentile poverty—which in reality translated into a bedsit, a kettle and the landlady’s cat. Regardless, the Royal Council insisted that she had the best claim.
It was when they had said ‘Illegitimate, legitimate, it really doesn’t matter what kind of heir you give us’ that she had baulked. Didn’t matter? How could they say that something as important as a child didn’t matter? It would damn well matter to her. But that was a problem for another day.
Today her goals were to get through this lecture with the hunky tutor and—hopefully—get her mind off his body and onto his body of work.
He was still standing there staring at her with a somewhat confused look on his face.
‘Visual images?’ she prompted, glancing at the screen. ‘Don’t want to risk falling asleep.’ She was trying to be friendly and hide the alarming response her body was having to his physical presence alone.
Still nothing.
Mountain Man’s silence was beginning to seriously annoy her. ‘I brought a pile of books along.’ She gestured with her naked foot at the photographic essays on the coffee table. ‘You can use them to illustrate your talk, if you like?’
That was it! She’d had enough.
Standing and turning to face him directly, she was confronted by a glacial stare. ‘Don’t they teach you manners at princess school?’ he asked, finally breaking his silence.
His voice was an uncompromising, husky growl. Had he invaded the palace with the sole intention of insulting her?
‘I beg your pardon?’ she trilled in her haughtiest tone.
‘You heard me, Princess Astrid.’
‘How dare you!’ Charging towards him, she raised her hand as if to slap him. ‘I can always get another tutor.’
Snatching hold of her wrist, the man bowed mockingly over her hand. ‘Prince Karl of Thorberg at your service, Princess Astrid.’
As she raised her other hand to push him away, he dragged her closer.
CHAPTER TWO
‘PRINCE KARL THORBERG as in the Karl Thorberg, world-renowned explorer?’ she asked, disbelief ringing in her words. ‘I didn’t recognise you.’
Karl laughed but didn’t let her go. ‘No surprise there, Princess.’
Indeed. The last time she had seen a photograph of the hunk with wanderlust, the prince had been shaved and polished, if a little just-out-of-bed rumpled in an attractive adventurer’s way, picking up some award or other from the Royal Institute. She had almost fallen asleep during a replay of the ceremony on TV, but had woken up fast when Karl came on the screen.
‘You can let this go now,’ he said, unpicking her fingers from the panic button she was clutching. ‘You won’t need it while I’m around.’
Yes, she would! The way Karl was staring into her eyes said he knew the desires of her wayward body better than she knew them herself. There had never been a better time to wear a panic button. The Royal Council had insisted she wear an alarm, arguing that the numerous pretenders to the throne hadn’t given up hope of removing her as an obstacle on their path to power. She had eventually relented as the moonstone pendant etched with runic swirls that encompassed the button looked cool.
‘What are you doing?’ She clasped a hand to her chest a beat too late.
‘What does it look as if I’m doing, Princess?’ Karl swung the pendant in front of her eyes. ‘Like I said, you won’t be needing this while I’m around.’
His fingers had only touched her for an instant and her senses were in free fall. This wasn’t good. ‘So why you?’ she pressed, trying to shake off the dizzying effect his heavily masculine presence was having on her. ‘Are you serious about being my tutor?’
‘Never more so. You want someone to give you a crash course on your lands beyond the Arctic Circle—’
‘And you’re a world authority,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘I am,’ Karl confirmed, stating this without conceit. ‘I don’t think there’s anyone better qualified.’
And not just for that job, Astrid mused as she took in the full splendour of the man for the second time in as many minutes. ‘Modest, too,’ she commented.
‘Forthright,’ Karl argued.
Some humour or warmth in that steely gaze wouldn’t go amiss. ‘Perhaps we should move on?’ she suggested.
‘I’m all for moving things on.’
Wait. Was that humour in his eyes? Before she could make up her mind, Prince Karl was heading for the door. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, glancing at the giant cinema screen. ‘I’ve got loads of films on the Arctic territories, so you don’t need to bother getting yours, if you’ve left them in your car.’
Even a frown looked good on him. She loved the way his weather-beaten face crinkled. But that dip of his head as he glowered at her and the firm line of his mouth weren’t very encouraging. She shrugged. ‘What?’
‘Films?’ he queried.
‘Yeah, moving images. You’ve seen them before, I take it?’
‘What the hell are you talking about, Princess? Your people asked me to wait in here and you’d be along directly. They didn’t tell me I’d have to waste my time indulging you as you watch some heavily edited film.’
‘Well? What, then? I warn you, if you’re just going to drone on, I’ll probably fall asleep—’
‘You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?’
‘And you’re very rude. How dare you invade the royal palace and start laying down the law!’
‘I was invited here, if you remember, Princess. By you.’
‘My aide-de-camp issued the invitation for me. I just told him to get the best—’
‘And here I am, fresh from my latest expedition.’
She huffed, inwardly shuddering at the steel in Karl’s voice. She hadn’t anticipated obstacles like Prince Karl Thorberg when she had accepted the throne. And now he was standing in front of her, blocking out the screen in a direct challenge to her authority. Remembering the Royal Council’s words of wisdom about appearing weak, she launched a counter-attack. ‘Well, if I hired you, I can fire you. I choose who I want. And I don’t want you.’
But she needed him. It was becoming clearer in each passing moment that Astrid was in real trouble.
She just didn’t know it yet. When the previous king had died without heirs and his council chose Astrid to be the next ruler, the wolves had closed in. Seeing a pretty young thing, every loser had imagined they were in with a chance—bed her, then wed her. Or, failing that, push her out of their way. Even pretenders from half a world away had come forward, announcing they had a better claim to the throne than she did.
That was around the time Astrid’s plight had come to his attention. Her lands abutted his own and he couldn’t afford an enemy at the gates. Plus, he wasn’t just an explorer; he was an adventurer who carried his ancestors’ warrior genes in his blood, and though Astrid’s people were farmers now, they were of similar stock.
Instead of running for those hills when she got the call to rule, Astrid had pledged to care for her country and keep it safe. In order to do that, she had set about learning everything she could to help her people. That was where he came in, but who could have prepared him for this nuclear charge between them?
Astrid had a lot to learn. And not just about her country, he suspected as the lady in question tipped up her heart-shaped face to scowl at him.
‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Why are you still here?’
‘Because I’m not leaving until you come with me.’
‘Come with you? Where?’
‘To the Arctic territories that you’re so interested in learning about, of course.’
She laughed. ‘You must be joking.’
‘I’ve never been more serious, Princess. And if you won’t come willingly—’
‘Are you mad?’ she demanded as he bore down on her.
Retreating to the safety of the distant sofa, she settled in with a finality she hoped he understood clearly. ‘Before you go, put a film on. I don’t need you to tell me where the ice ends and the sea begins. I think I can work that out for myself.’
‘Really? Let me explain something in language even you can understand.’ He stood over her, wondering how such a furious force could radiate from such a tiny woman. ‘There’ll be no films, no cosy chats, no lectures. You’re leaving the palace and coming with me. And as we’ll be sleeping under canvas, I suggest you pack something you can carry on your back. And wear something warm, Princess. That is, if you can still remember how to do anything for yourself.’

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