A Lesson in Passion: Season of Desire Part 4 (Seasons Quartet) (2 page)

 
Miles purses his lips and frowns. ‘Let’s keep off the busy slopes as much as possible. In fact, we’ll go off-piste if you can manage it. You’ll be in ski clothes – Dominic’s girlfriend has some here that you can borrow – and goggles, and as long as we don’t hang out at any of the cafes or restaurants, you should be fine.’ He leans over and kisses me. I adore the taste of him on my lips and long for more, but he pulls away. ‘I think we should risk it. No one assumes you’re here, and that means they won’t expect to see you. In my experience, very famous people can walk about quite naturally if no one assumes they’re there.’

 
‘Okay, then. Let’s do it. I love skiing. And didn’t you say something about eggs? I’m starving…’

A few hours later, I’m revelling in the sensation of taking the slope at speed, guiding my skis to move exactly as I want, hitting the snow with a steady hiss and glide as I fly down the mountain. Ahead of me is Miles’s dark form. I thought I was pretty good at skiing – I’ve been doing it since I was three, after all – but I’ve got nothing on Miles. He’s better than any instructor I’ve ever seen as he takes the slope at the kind of speed only an expert can manage. His technique is perfect, even awe-inspiring. It looks deceptively easy as he moves in lazy-looking zigzags, his body almost skimming the ground at every turn, his poles barely touching the snow. Only the wake of white powder from the blade of his skis shows how sharply he’s cutting through it.

If he ever gets tired of being a bodyguard, I think, he could easily get work as a stuntman in the movies – in his black ski gear and sunglasses, he looks like nothing so much as James Bond as he skis effortlessly down the mountain.

 
When I come to a halt beside him, I’m breathless but exhilarated. I love this kind of exercise, out in the open air, enjoying the ice-blue sky, the liquid sunshine and the crisp white snow. It’s also very sexy, perhaps because of our form-fitting ski gear. Miles found me a great outfit: an all-in-one ski pant suit in red with a matching ski jacket. With it, I’m wearing a red hat and a pair of sunglasses. I feel sleek and athletic, and with Miles all in black, we make a striking pair against the white slopes.

 
‘You’re amazing!’ I say, breathless as he smiles at me. ‘I had no idea you could ski so well.’

 
‘Training,’ he says drily. ‘A lot of it. We were made to master the toughest slopes in the world.’ He looks up the mountain, sunlight glinting off his metallic aviator shades. ‘This is kind of child’s play after that.’

 
I laugh. ‘Of course it is.’ I stick my poles in the snow and take off my sunglasses. ‘What are we going to do now? I’m starving.’

 
‘Starving?’ Miles frowns. ‘We only just had breakfast.’

 
‘Four hours ago!’ I exclaim. ‘And skiing always makes me ravenous.’

 
‘I was worried that maybe you didn’t eat enough this morning.’

 
‘Don’t be silly, it was delicious and I ate plenty.’ I grin at him. ‘I’m only glad you’ve turned out to be so good at the stove. I’m utterly useless.’

 
‘Why am I not surprised?’ He laughs, driving his ski poles into the snow. Then he grabs my hands and pulls me so that my skis glide gently between his open ones and my body bumps softly against his. He wraps his arms around me, puts his mouth close to my ear and murmurs, ‘But you’re far from useless, Winter. I happen to know you’re very talented indeed.’

 
My stomach tightens and my heart starts to race. There’s an answering tingle between my legs. His nearness and the timbre of his voice close to my ear are almost unbearable; my skin prickles with the sensation.

 
‘Really?’ I whisper. ‘Am I learning well?’

 
‘Very well. You’re going to pass the course with flying colours.’ His mouth is almost touching mine now, making me dizzy with longing.

 
‘I think I’m ready to start my education again,’ I say, my voice weak with the power of my desire for him.

 
His mouth lands on mine, my lips open and our tongues meet. We start to kiss deeply, oblivious to everyone else around us – not that where we are is busy place. Because we were off-piste, it’s a very quiet part of the mountain and as far as I can see, there’s no one about. I relax into the deliciousness of his kiss, savouring his taste as he possesses my mouth with his.

 
When he pulls away at last, he has a lazy look of promise in those blue eyes. ‘Shall we go back to the chalet, Winter? I think it might be time to resume your lessons.’

 
‘Yes, please,’ I say. ‘Let’s go right now.’

Back at the chalet, the chef Dominic called in for us has been in the kitchen during our absence and a delicious-looking lunch has been left out for us: a cold chicken and ham pie, tempting salads of roasted vegetables and balsamic vinegar, wild rice with charred beetroot and nuggets of feta cheese, and peppery rocket with sweet tomatoes. Freshly baked bread sits in a basket with a dish of Alpine butter, and there’s a board of Swiss cheeses, along with a plate of tiny chocolate-covered choux buns to have afterwards. There’s far too much for just the two of us but the skiing has had its usual effect on my appetite and I eat heartily.

 
‘Oh my goodness,’ I say, leaning back in my chair. ‘I’m stuffed. I’ve been terribly greedy.’

 
Miles pushes his plate away and smiles at me. ‘Too full for lessons?’

 
I groan. ‘You know what? I might be!’ I’m taken unawares by a huge yawn. ‘In fact, yesterday’s activities have made me quite sleepy.’

 
‘Then I think you should have a rest. I don’t want you falling asleep on me later. Come on.’ He gets up and puts out a hand. ‘Lessons can wait. I want you on good form for the next one, it’s going to take all your concentration.’

 
I get to my feet. I wanted Miles so badly only a short time ago. Now I can hardly keep my eyes open. ‘Mountain air,’ I say apologetically.

 
‘You’ve had a very exhausting time lately,’ he says as we head for the stairs, his arm around me. ‘I don’t just mean our lessons. You’re probably still recovering from the trauma of our accident.’

 
‘What about you?’ I ask, yawning again. ‘You went through the same trauma.’

 
‘Not exactly,’ he says gently. ‘I'm trained for crises, and I don't have the kind of childhood baggage you have. Anyway, I’m going to stay awake so I can look after you.’

 
I rest my head on his shoulder, loving the way he makes me feel. I do feel safe. Properly. Not guarded or monitored or filmed – but really safe, deep inside. I don’t remember ever feeling so calm. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

 
‘For what?’

 
‘Oh – everything.’

 
We reach the bedroom and I’m so tired, I’m almost completely floppy. I sit on the bed and let Miles slowly peel off my clothes until I’m in a T-shirt and my knickers.

 
‘This is almost more than human flesh can stand,’ he says, his eyes glittering as he looks at me. He lifts the covers so I can slide underneath. ‘You’re extremely tempting. I hope you realise what a measure of self-control I’m exerting.’

 
I giggle as he pulls the covers over me. The sheets are smooth and cool against my bare legs. ‘You can ravish me if you like,’ I say invitingly. I’m already damp just looking at him. Then I’m ambushed by another enormous yawn.

 
He laughs. ‘I don’t think I can face the possibility you might fall asleep while I do it. I’ll wait until you’re refreshed, I think.’ He drops a kiss on my cheek and smiles. ‘Sleep tight.’

 
I sigh happily as he turns to head for the door. Just then, his mobile rings. I hear him answer it as he goes to leave but before I can make out anything further, I’m fast asleep.

Chapter Fifteen

When I wake it’s dark outside. It’s late afternoon and the sun is dropping behind the mountains. I come to my senses gradually, shaking off the strange feeling that sometimes comes with sleeping in the daytime.

 
I pull on a robe and pad downstairs to find Miles. He’s outside on the balcony with a glass of wine, reading and seemly oblivious to the startling sky above him: it’s a streaked glory of pink, lavender, blue and gold, the mountains dark against it. In the shadows at their feet, just below us, the little town is beginning to glitter as the lights twinkle in the growing gloom.

 
I open the door and put my head out into the cold evening air with a shiver. ‘Brrr. It’s freezing out here.’

 
Miles turns around quickly at the sound of my voice, his handsome face breaking into a smile as he sees me. ‘Well – is that surprising?’ He gestures to the snowy mountains surrounding us.

 
‘I suppose not.’ I laugh. ‘But I’ve just been tucked up warmly in bed. The contrast is pretty noticeable.’

 
He puts his book down and gets up. Coming towards me, he holds out his arms and in a moment he’s engulfed me in a hug. I nuzzle into his jacket, but its surface is chilly. ‘Come inside,’ I coax. ‘Don’t sit out here in the cold any more.’

 
‘How can I resist?’ he says, raising his eyebrow at me.

 
In the sitting room, he’s already lit the fire and it’s crackling away merrily as it burns around a large log. Once the doors are closed and we’re out of the icy air, I relax again. I sit down on the sofa opposite the fire and beckon him to me, then pull him down so we can cuddle up together.

 
‘Take off that jacket!’ I command.

 
He starts to slide it off but says, ‘Watch out now… Don’t forget yourself and start issuing orders.’

 
‘Of course not!’ I say quickly. ‘It’s not an order – more of an invitation.’

 
‘Now, those I like,’ he says, and pulls me into his broad warm chest. ‘Even if you have made me leave my book and my drink outside.’

 
‘Aren’t I more interesting?’ I ask, putting my lips to his cheek. The skin is a tantalising mixture of smooth and rough, with the softness of his cheek tempered by the prickle of stubble.

 
‘Of course you are,’ he murmurs. His arm tightens around me. ‘Listen, it’s lovely being cosy on my own with you up here but I wondered how you felt about going out for dinner. I’m okay with eggs, but not very good with anything else, so it would either be a disappointing supper, or we’ll have to call on the services of the chef again.’

 
I open my mouth to say that of course we’ll go out – then I close it. What if I’m seen and word gets back to my father? I can hardly wear a ski hat and sunglasses through dinner in a restaurant, and I’m well enough known to be recognised, especially here in Klosters. ‘I’m not sure,’ I say, frowning.

 
‘I know what you’re thinking – it’s safer to stay here. But my friend Dominic is in town—’

 
‘Dominic who owns this chalet?’ I say, mildly panicked. Does this mean our delightful sojourn
à deux
is over? Will we be sharing this place with Miles’s friend? The thought is not a pleasant one. I don’t want any intruders but it’s hard to see how we could refuse someone entry into their own chalet.

 
Miles sees my expression and says quickly, ‘Yes, but he’s not staying here. He and Beth are just passing through and he suggested dinner. He knows that we’ve got the chalet, and doesn’t expect to come up here. It’s fine.’

 
‘But still…’ I frown again. ‘A restaurant?’

 
‘Dominic knows a very sweet little place in the mountains – we’ll have a room to ourselves. We won’t see anyone else.’

 
‘I don’t want to see anyone but you,’ I say.

 
‘I know.’ He covers my hand with his large one and squeezes it gently. ‘But you’ll like them, I promise. And you’ll get a much better dinner than you will with me, I can assure you of that!’

 
I smile at him. It suddenly occurs to me that if Miles is going to introduce me to his friend, then surely that means I’m someone important in his life, someone he wants people to meet. Or am I reading too much into it? ‘Okay. It sounds fun.’

 
‘Good. Then we’ll go.’

I’m putting a last slick of gloss on my lips when I hear the jingle of sleigh bells outside. Curious, I put my lip gloss in my purse, pick up my shoes and hurry downstairs. Miles is waiting at the bottom, wearing a black coat with a fur collar, thick leather gloves and a black wool hat.

 
‘There you are,’ he says. ‘Come on, we’re going.’

 
‘Who’s at the door?’ I ask, putting on a pair of fleece-lined boots and a thick sheepskin coat with a deliciously soft, woolly collar that encases my neck in warmth. I slip my shoes into a bag and pull a soft cashmere beret over my hair. ‘Sounds like Father Christmas has just arrived.’

 
‘Not exactly.’ Miles grins. ‘But I don’t want to drive so we’re going the traditional way.’ He opens the chalet door and I catch a glimpse of the dark shapes of horses shaking manes, hear the thud of hooves, soft whinnies and the muted jingle of bells on the harnesses. A driver, well wrapped up and wearing a brimmed hat, sits at the front of the sleigh, a long slender whip in his hand, lit by two glowing lanterns hanging from the curved prow, one on each side.

 
I laugh as I step outside the chalet. I usually get around in four-wheel drive SUVs, leaving the sleigh rides for the tourists, but there’s something very charming about the old-fashioned vehicle. Miles locks up the chalet, then opens the little door in the side of the sleigh and helps me in. The seats are well upholstered and fur-lined rugs are provided; he settles down beside me on the padded seat and tucks the rugs around us.