Nico didn’t seem to hear, so she tugged his gloved hand. His fingers curled around hers as he answered. ‘Near Kungsan.’

‘Kungsan’ was the pet name for Kungsträdgården or ‘King’s Garden’, a popular spot in Stockholm and one Hannah knew well from her daily walks between Gamla Stan and Östermalm. It was hard to think of that though as she absorbed the seamless way they’d ended up holding hands. It felt warm and promising and … well, nice.

They tried to talk as they passed beneath dangling Christmas lights, gold against the night sky, but the driving snow stole their breath and the wind made their words swirl around them. Nico laughed, blinking snow from his eyes. ‘To think we could have stayed safely indoors.’

The streets were half-empty in the deluge and they soon reached the restaurant, falling in through the door, gasping at the warm air replacing the cold in their lungs. Cutlery gleamed on royal blue cloths and a cream and gold tiled wood stove stood in the corner of the room. They were able to get a table by the window with a view over the water to Stockholm Palace and the bridges to Gamla Stan.

‘Beautiful,’ Hannah breathed, admiring the lights of the city playing over the glassy night-time sea, enjoying the lazy hum of conversation and clink of cutlery from the other diners.

‘How about fizz?’ Nico suggested, reading the wine menu. He took her hand, switching her attention from the view to him.

‘Fizz sounds fantastic,’ she murmured, feeling as if several glasses were already dancing through her veins when his leg came to rest against hers. It was hard to concentrate on the leather-bound food menu so she chose the local speciality. ‘Meatballs. I can’t come back to Sweden without eating meatballs.’

‘Fizz and meatballs, a meal fit for the king.’ Nico ordered and the smiling woman who served them brought a silver ice bucket containing a bottle with Hatt et Söner grande cuvée on the crest-like label. Actual champagne, not just a bottle of cava. Hannah’s skin prickled with the feeling that something special was happening.

Nico’s gaze was warm when it rested upon her. ‘I telephoned Dad before we came out.’ He still held her hand.

Hannah was distracted by the feel of his skin, warm and soft yet slightly rough, like a cat’s tongue. She had to force herself to concentrate on his words. ‘How is he?’

‘Much more his old self,’ Nico answered drily, the flickering flame from the candle on their table reflecting in his eyes. ‘He told me how lucky I was to be out this evening with a beautiful, warm, kind, intelligent woman.’ A smile made his eyes bluer. ‘As if I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Oh,’ she breathed, her heart launching into a gallop.