A Lesson in the Storm

by Sadie Matthews

Genres: Women's Fiction; Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

Part One of SEASON OF DESIRE, a fiercely passionate five-part serial novel by Sadie Matthews which will excite all fans of FIRE AFTER DARK, BECAUSE YOU ARE MINE and FIFTY SHADES OF GREY. Freya Hammond is used to people fulfilling her every whim. Wealthy and spoiled, she lives a butterfly existence of fashion and parties and is accustomed to getting her own way. Which is why the new bodyguard is riling her. Miles Murray is ex-SAS and obeys her instructions with barely repressed scorn. She can sense that he doesn't think much of her. The Hammonds have been staying at their luxurious retreat high in the Alps. Now Miles is driving Freya to the airport but the rapidly worsening weather and a near-miss with a dangerously driven jeep causes him to lose control, and sends the car plummeting off the side of the mountain. When Freya comes to, she is lying on the freezing ground, Miles beside her. The car is a mangled mess far below them. Now Freya needs Miles to save her life. Using all his survival skills, Miles manages to locate an old shepherd's hut and get them both there despite Freya's twisted ankle. Rescue will surely come before too long... but until then Freya is no longer in control. The tension between them is soon at fever pitch as she tries to dominate a man who no longer obeys her orders. And when rescue does come, how will they return to their old life of mistress and bodyguard after what has happened between them?

Release date: October 3, 2013

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 70

Sample

Chapter Four

I wake in the night, not knowing where I am. I’m in pitch blackness, my body is stiff on the hard wooden planks, and I’m freezing despite my jacket and the pungent sleeping bag tightly wrapped around me. I’m moaning with the pain in my chest, a throbbing ache that feels as though someone is continually squeezing me tight, homing in on the tender area with unerring aim.

 Panic sweeps over me with the confusion. What’s happening? Where am I?

 I’m accustomed to different beds, moving the way I do across the world from hotel to apartment, to villa and mansion. But no matter where the beds are, they are always the same: luxurious with soft mattresses and crisp clean sheets, cool in summer and warm in winter. This experience is entirely different – the unforgiving boards, the cold and the dark. In fact, I’ve only known this once before in my life and the memory of that rears up in my head like a black ogre.

 I’m there, I think, agonised with fear. I’m back there. I cry out, ‘Mama! Are you there? Mama?’ I sit up suddenly, wild with panic and slump under the pain that washes over me.

 The next instant, Miles is beside me, hushing me, wrapping strong arms around me and rocking me gently. His cheek is against my head, and I let myself fall into his embrace, sobbing a little as the terror subsides.

 ‘Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s fine,’ he says. ‘You’re all right. I’m here.’

 ‘I thought—’ I choke on the words. I can’t begin to explain what I felt.

 ‘I know. You’re afraid. But you’re safe, I promise.’

 It’s not just that. I want to tell him that I’m not simply frightened of our situation, to explain about the fear, but I can’t begin to find the words. For one thing, I’ve never talked about it with anyone, not even the shrinks they sent me to.

 I can’t see him but that somehow makes it easier to accept the comfort of his body in a way that might not be possible if I could. I press up against the warm strength of his chest, inhale a comfortingly masculine scent, and feel the roughness of his stubble against the side of my head. He murmurs in his soft Scottish accent, ‘You called for your mother. She died when you were young, didn’t she?’

 I can’t speak. My throat feels as though it’s closed up and there’s a pressure in my skull that will be released as tears if I try to talk, so I nod, feeling the soft wool of his jumper on my face.

 ‘You poor wee girl. I’m sorry. That’s tough for anyone.’

 I take a deep breath and manage to say, ‘Please don’t be nice to me.’

 He laughs and I feel the rumble in his chest. ‘Freya, you’re a one. Don’t be nice to you?’

 ‘It will make me… lose it,’ I say, my voice coming out thickly. I really don’t want to cry.

 ‘I understand. You’re strong. But it’s all right to be scared. This isn’t a great situation, I’m not pretending it is. But our chances are good, I promise.’

 ‘How long do you think it will be before they find us?’

 He’s quiet for a moment and I sense him turn his head towards the window although there’s only blackness outside. ‘It depends on the storm. It’s quietened down for now. Maybe that means they can start looking for us. There’s no point otherwise, they’ll never see a thing with the visibility at almost zero. Hey now…’ I feel him turn back to me ‘… you’re cold.’

 I realise I’m shaking lightly. The fire has died and the bitter cold is returning as the heat fades away.

 ‘Come on,’ he says, ‘we can’t have that. I’m going to sleep here with you so we can share body warmth. I’ll get the other sleeping bag.’ He gets up, moves cautiously in the direction of the fireplace and finds his sleeping bag.

 I feel comforted. A body close to me is what I want most right now. I move to make room for him on the narrow planks and gasp.

 ‘What is it?’ Miles asks, returning with his bag.

 ‘My chest. It’s still hurting.’

 ‘Okay.’ His voice is serious again. ‘I’m going to take a look now.’

 ‘But—’

 ‘No buts. Come on, it won’t take a minute.’

 Maybe it will be easier in the dark. He won’t be able to see my face.

 He goes back to the fireplace where he’s obviously left the torch in easy reach, and comes back. He helps me sit up straight and I don’t bother to protest any more. I’m worried about this pain and I want to know what’s wrong with me. He switches on the torch and the cold white beam lasers through the darkness. It blinds me momentarily, then the light swings away from my eyes and onto my body. He sits down next to me and puts the torch on the bench so that its beam illuminates me.

 ‘That’s right, let’s get this coat off you. Not for long…’ He’s unzipping my puffy jacket and gently pushing it off my shoulders. My sweater is underneath. ‘Do you want to lift this up for me?’

 I nod and roll the soft cashmere upwards, exposing first my stomach and then my chest. I’m wearing a plain white cotton bra, the straps embellished with small cotton daisies. My skin prickles into goosebumps as the cold air hits it. Miles lifts the torch and focuses the beam on my breasts. I look down and see the icy light playing over my flesh; it looks white in the cold beam, the soft mounds of my breasts rising from the bra cups, but there’s something else.

 ‘I thought so,’ Miles says. He’s focused the torchlight on a livid purple mark that crosses my chest from the top of my left breast and straight down the centre of my chest in a long diagonal line. . .