‘I have to stay?’ Travis stared at her.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re freezing and wet. Your dress …’
‘Am I?’
His voice reawakened her senses. Cold, wet satin fabric clung to her legs and she realised she was trembling.
He shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders, transferring the warmth of his body to her chilled flesh. ‘That’s the second one I’ve loaned you today,’ he said, ‘I don’t have another one. Come on, let’s get you inside.’
His arm settled around her shoulders and he guided her towards the doors.
Freya noticed the six-inch tear in her hem and winced. ‘I’ll have to change. I hope Roxanne doesn’t see me like this.’ She stopped suddenly. ‘And you can’t be seen with me either.’
He frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘Because … Look,’ she added desperately. ‘Travis, just do as I say. Let me go inside and then follow me in. Is there another way into the hotel you could use?’
‘What? Like through the kitchens?’ he shot back. ‘I’m not sure they’d approve of me marching in while they’re doing dinner.’
‘I’m being serious!’
‘OK, then, seriously, there are several staff entrances from the grounds. I used them with Roxy and Ravi earlier, but why all the secrecy?’
‘I’ll tell you in my room, but please, don’t go.’
‘Freya,’ he said solemnly. ‘I can promise you I’m not going anywhere.’
The promise in his smile sparked an internal glow that heated her faster than any fire. ‘See you in a minute,’ she said, already on her way.
He caught her arm, gently. ‘Wait. I don’t have your room number.’
‘It’s twenty-three,’ she said. ‘In the tower wing.’
Without a glance back, she left him, returning to the hotel, ditching the wellies and collecting her shoes – praying that no one noticed her rushing through the door to the guest wings in a wet dress and borrowed jacket.
She closed the door, shed his coat and glimpsed the flushed-cheeked woman in the mirror. Her hair was damp, her crystal comb sparkling with melting snow. As for her torn dress – she’d have to have it repaired …
‘The bed!’
Her four-poster had been turned down and rose petals scattered on the sheets, lamplight softly glowing and a warm honeyed scent perfuming in the air. Every nerve ending caught alight and he wasn’t even in the room yet. She wanted him and it had to be now. However crazy it was, however wrong it would seem in the morning, she needed him.
The knock at the door was so soft.
She almost jumped out of her skin. No going back.
Opening it a sliver, she spied Travis, his tousled hair as damp as her own, as jittery as she felt. Was it lust or nerves or a heady cocktail of both?
‘Room service, madam?’ The roguish glint in his eyes almost made her self-combust.
‘No one saw you?’ she said, locking the door behind him.
‘Housekeeping, a couple of teenagers snogging in the corridor.’ He glanced at the room, his gaze lingering on the four-poster bed where his jacket lay. She hadn’t left it there on purpose – had she?
‘Why did you leave without saying goodbye?’ she asked.
His gaze settled on hers. ‘I saw you with Nico. You were dancing.’
‘Nico?’ she echoed.
‘Yeah. The tall, dark, loaded Italian surgeon, unless you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Is he loaded?’ she exclaimed in amazement. ‘He didn’t tell me.’
‘I’m sure he’d have got round to it,’ he said spikily. ‘He mentioned his Ferrari and Tuscan villa twice while I was taking the photos earlier.’
Freya could torment him – and herself – no longer. ‘Actually, I did know,’ she said, closing on him. ‘I was winding you up.’
He shook his head in disbelief, exhaled and closed the space between them. ‘Freya,’ he murmured, reaching up to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘After a day of looking at you in that dress, I don’t think it’s possible for me to be wound up anymore.’
He pulled her gently into his arms, the soft-rough wool of his sweater brushing her cleavage, sending splinters of desire shooting through her. His mouth swooped on hers, suffusing her chilled body with heat. Freya sought him too, exploring his mouth, pressing more tightly against him, wanting his skin on her skin, and him deep inside her.
She tugged his shirt out of his jeans, slipped her hands under the brushed cotton, flattened them against his smooth flesh, feeling his muscles tauten under her fingertips. He drew down the zip and the satin slithered down her body to the floor, leaving her in her bra and knickers: mere lacy scraps of satin that matched the dress.
‘Wow,’ Travis said on a breath, his eyes like saucers. ‘Just wow.’
‘I don’t usually wear … this sort of thing …’
‘I promise I’m not judging.’ His voice was hoarse, tinged with urgency.
In moments, her very expensive bra was lying on the floor, followed by her knickers and Travis’s jeans. They sank into the duvet, naked, Travis kissing his way down her neck, between her breasts and telling her he wanted her so much he might pass out.
Freya opened her eyes and turned her head to one side. It was still dark but there was enough light from under the door to reveal that she wasn’t alone for the first time in over eighteen months.
Travis lay face down, one arm flung across the pillow.
With a contented sigh, he shifted in his sleep and the duvet slipped off the bed, exposing his muscular behind. Freya was unable to take her eyes off it, fascinated and impressed and wondering how she’d done the very thing she’d vowed never to do under any circumstances.
She’d been a bit tipsy when she’d run out into the snow after him but not so that she didn’t know exactly what she was doing when she’d begged him to come back inside. She’d done all the running, she’d issued the orders and was in control. The night’s events – all of them – flooded back and made her squirm with lust all over again.
They’d both had the presence of mind to be sensible for at least ten seconds, judging by the empty foil packets on the bedside table.
Sensible … She’d been sensible far too often and for too long, so she could allow herself her moment of madness, surely?
Who could be sensible when faced with the sight of a naked Travis, his body made strong and muscular by years of hiking up mountains carrying heavy camera gear?
She allowed herself a little while longer to wonder at his gorgeous bottom before he suddenly turned, yanking the duvet off her with a startled expression as if he had no idea how he’d ended up in her bed.
‘Morning,’ she said, looking down on him.
‘Er …’ He pushed his hair out of his eyes. ‘Yeah.’ Then: ‘Oh my God! I’m supposed to be leading a tour.’
He leaped out of bed, got tangled in the duvet and slipped, stubbing his toe on the chair.
‘Argh. I should be halfway up a mountain. Argh. It’s my first tour, I’ve got six people waiting at the shop …’ He glanced at his wrist and found it bare. ‘Oh God, what time is it?’
Freya fished it from her side of the bed. ‘Quarter to eight.’
‘Oh.’ His shoulders dropped and he exhaled. ‘I’m meeting them at nine. There’s still time to make it.’
‘I suggest you get dressed first. You’d definitely cause a stir if you turned up like that.’
He clamped his mouth shut as if he’d only then realised he was naked. Freya wanted to giggle before he stared at her and realised that she was naked too.
‘Oh. I – wow.’ He shook his head in wonder, the right kind of wonder. ‘Maybe I should forget the tour.’
He climbed back onto the bed.
‘Don’t you need time to prepare?’ she said half-heartedly as he lay down beside her.
‘No. I’ve got all my gear in the car and trust me,’ he added, with a cheeky grin, ‘I know what I’m doing by now.’
Afterwards, while Travis dashed into the shower, yelping and cursing because he couldn’t wait for the water to heat up, Freya lay under the sheet, hoping the tempest of emotions rolling over her would pass like a summer storm.
A whirlwind had hit the room over the past ten hours. Items of clothing were abandoned on the desk, on the floor. Were those her knickers on the tea tray?
It had happened, she’d slept with Travis and it had been momentous and wonderful and she wanted to do it again and again. She was an addict, succumbing to her first fix after years of abstinence that she’d thought would last forever.
Towelling down, he thundered back into the bedroom. ‘Where’s my clothes? I won’t have time to go home and change now. I’ll have to go commando.’
That kind of talk really wasn’t helping her.
Uttering a stream of creative curses, Travis hopped around, pulling on his jeans, unearthing his T-shirt from the tangle of bedclothes.
‘I’m starving. OK if I have these?’ He started stuffing the complimentary biscuits, fruit and bottled water into his jacket pockets.
She sat up. ‘You can have anything you like but Travis, we have to talk about what’s happened here.’
He cast a look around the room. ‘Looks like World War Three happened to me.’
‘I mean what happened between us.’
He grinned. ‘That was pretty explosive too.’
The physical intimacy had been mind-blowing but she was also scared of where it might lead: to him getting hurt, to them both getting hurt and messing up their lives again. Life had been so much simpler before Travis had walked back into it – and so much duller and safer …
She swung her legs out of bed. ‘It was, she said. ‘But it absolutely can’t happen again …’
His grin faded instantly. ‘Please don’t say that. Not after last night. And I have to go.’ He crossed the room to the door but she was after him.
‘You haven’t let me finish, it can’t happen again unless …
‘Unless what?’ He grasped the door handle.
‘Unless you agree to my conditions. Strict conditions – but I need time to explain. I don’t want you rushing off and not listening.’
‘I’ll do anything.’ His gaze raked her body. ‘Anything you say to keep on doing what we just did.’ His lips met hers, in a deep and tender kiss that ended way too soon. ‘Now, I have to go. I’ll see you later. Just tell me where and when.’