A Lesson in Passion: Season of Desire Part 4 (Seasons Quartet) Read Free Page A

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.
      ‘ Wir sind fertig ,’ he tells the driver. ‘ Schloss Marika , bitte. ’
      ‘You speak German,’ I say admiringly.
      ‘A little.’ He smiles back. The