Season of Desire

Book 1: Seasons trilogy

by Sadie Matthews

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

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 Daunt is ex-SAS and obeys her instructions with barely repressed scorn. 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. Now Freya needs Miles to save her life.

Release date: April 24, 2014

Publisher: Hodder Paperback

Print pages: 400

Sample

Chapter Eight

I sigh with that languorous post-orgasmic satisfaction and nestle into his chest.

Gazing up at him, I say, ‘That was incredible.’

‘Just a beginner’s guide to the mouth. There’s much more to learn, believe me.’ He smiles down at me.

‘I can’t wait for you to teach me everything you know. But . . .’ I brush my hand over the fine wool of his jumper. ‘What about you? Don’t you have needs you want fulfilled? I feel that I’m the one getting all the attention.’

He strokes a finger over my cheek. ‘You’re very generous but at the moment, I’m the tutor, remember? I can hold back my own needs in favour of your education.’

‘But still . . .’ I want to reach out to that hardness at his groin. I want to caress and kiss him, give him back a little of the pleasure he’s given me. But I daren’t do it without permission. ‘Tutor,’ I venture shyly, ‘I don’t know what you have in mind for the next lesson . . .’

‘Eager to begin again already? I salute your desire for knowledge,’ he murmurs.

‘I am,’ I reply quickly. ‘I want to carry on learning as soon as I can.’

‘Very admirable,’ he says, and kisses my lips softly. ‘Perhaps you’re right – there’s a way to continue your education and allow some natural relief on my part. Giving you so much enjoyment has caused some tension. The delightful orgasm you just enjoyed was very stimulating for me. Very stimulating indeed . . .’ He kisses me harder and as his tongue probes my mouth, I can taste a honeyed saltiness on his lips. My juices.

The orgasm has taken some of the fever out of my body but my desire is stirring again, this time without the unbearable drawn-out frenzy of our first encounter. Nevertheless I’m hungry to taste his body properly.

‘May I be allowed to touch you?’ I whisper. ‘You haven’t let me see your body yet.’

‘A good point.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘Perhaps it will be an important part of the syllabus to examine me. Yes, Winter, you’ve hit on an excellent idea. Our next lesson will be a simple biology one.’ He sits up and takes off his jumper, revealing his incredible body. I gasp to see it so close to me: his muscled strength is almost overwhelming. His shoulders are broad and powerful and the curves of his biceps are deceptively gentle but I know that they are iron-hard. His skin is smooth and tanned, sprinkled with dark hair that also curls alluringly in his armpits and is scattered over his well-defined pecs with their small, dark red nipples. His torso narrows into a rippling abdomen and that trail of hair around his belly button leads downwards as if promising a path to pleasure. He’s aware of me drinking in the sight of him. ‘The male body,’ he says with a smile.

‘I don’t think you’re exactly a typical example,’ I breathe, awed by the sight of his physical perfection.

‘I’ll do for study purposes. Note the differences between us, Winter, but also our similarities. The male nipple, for example, is also a pleasure spot like your own. The male scent is trapped in the hair that we allow to grow on our body – unless you’re the chest-waxing type, which I am not – and the female responds to it. It contributes to her own arousal, and the release of her own sexual aromas. Smell is very important . . .’ His voice is low, hypnotic. ‘Try it.’

I move my face towards his naked skin, and when I’m close to him, the heat radiating from him, I inhaled deeply. He’s right – his scent is dark, cedary, with a top note of sweetness. My nostrils flare slightly as I take in the aroma. Arousal is there, and tang of something bitter and yet alluring. I move my face across his chest, inhaling, taking in long breaths that are delicious and darkly exciting, ripe with musk and sharp with a tang of something else. I think of how much has happened – his efforts to save the car from crashing, my rescue from it before it plunged over the edge of the cliff, the walks through the storm where every step was a battle through the fierce wind. The story of everything that’s happened to us is in the smell of his body and it’s exhilarating. Usually I would be repelled by anything less than absolute freshness but circumstances have forced me to accept standards that in normal life would horrify me. The idea of a man who hadn’t just showered would usually be repugnant but there’s nothing offensive about Miles: everything about him is exciting and alluring.

‘You smell amazing,’ I murmur. He’s right, my body is responding to the effect of his scent. I can feel a buzz in my depths that replies to it as it enters my nostrils. I want to lick him and taste him, but I restrain myself. The lesson is not over yet.

‘Now, run your hands over me and feel the difference between us.’

At last, I can touch him. I’ve been dying for this. Having him so close and yet being forbidden to touch him has been torture. I reach out to his tanned skin. It’s smooth and warm and my fingertips tingle as I feel him beneath them. But where my flesh is soft and yielding, his is firm, the muscles that lie beneath worked into a state of iron hardness. He moves slightly and I feel the flexing strength in his chest and arms. I pull in a sharp breath – that movement sends a thrill of desire rushing through me. I move my hand over the undulations of his chest, circling each dark nipple and then running my fingertip down the narrow seam that runs down between his abs to the trail of dark hair. He’s watching me all the time, his eyes hooded slightly so I can’t see the effect I’m having on him, but even though he’s lying still and breathing in a controlled, measured way, I think that my touch is having the desired effect. I can see now that there is a fearsome bulge in the groin of his jeans, a sight that provokes a shiver of intoxicating anticipation.

‘May I kiss you, Tutor?’ I ask breathily. ‘I want to touch your skin.’

‘You may,’ he replies and I press my lips to his firm chest, then run my tongue to his left nipple, circling it carefully for a while before drawing the little nugget into my mouth. I pull on it, grazing it lightly with my teeth while sucking, and it hardens gratifyingly under my ministrations. His chest is rising and falling a little quicker now and I move my face across it, inhaling the scent that clings to the dark hairs there, before tending to his right nipple in the same way, running my hands over him as I suck. When I look at him, his eyes have darkened even further, the lust in them impossible to mistake. Perhaps my tutor might not be as controlled and restrained as he likes to think . . .

There’s only one thing I want now, and that’s to see what lies beneath his jeans. I’m eager to give his cock my attention.

‘Are you ready for the next part of your biology lesson, Winter?’ His voice is lazy but below its insouciance I can hear a throb of passion.

‘Yes,’ I say happily.

‘Excellent. Then you may undo my jeans and release me.’

This is what I’ve been waiting for. Eagerly, I undo the button and slowly slide down the zip. Something twitches and moves beneath the denim. He’s wearing blue boxer shorts and I can see now that he’s bulging against them. The waistband of his jeans has been holding down his monstrous erection but as I open them, the great shaft is free and juts out, making a tent-shape in the boxers. I still can’t see it but I can feel the heat emanating from his stiff rod. I long to touch it and kiss it, set it free to be caressed, but I don’t know yet if I dare. I look up at Miles again. I know my face is flushed and my lips are moist where I’ve been licking my lips with desire to taste him in my mouth.

‘May I?’ I ask humbly.

‘Follow your desires,’ he says.

I slip my hand into the gap in his shorts and take his cock in my hand, pulling it out into the open. It’s smooth and hot and the girth makes me take in a sharp breath and my sex twitches in response to the promise Mile’s shaft holds for me. Like his muscled arms and chest, the velvety smoothness conceals a rock-like hardness and at the top the round head is swollen and flushed, ready for my attentions. This evidence of his desire for me is exciting and rouses my passions further. I’m growing wet and ready again, my bud swelling once more, keen for further pleasure. I dip down and take the hot head of his cock into my mouth, stretching my lips wide to accommodate it, while I play my hand along the shaft, moving the skin beneath my fingertips. At its root I can feel a nest of coarse hair and the tight sack of his balls and I slip a finger down to touch them. As I do, I hear him breathe hard, and when I roll my tongue around the tip of his erection, he moans appreciatively. My stomach tingles with excitement to know that I’m pleasuring him, even if I’m no expert. But this is pleasuring me as much as him: I revel in the feel and taste of his cock in my mouth, and the sense of power in the huge erection I’m toying with. I kiss and suck the head for longer, not able to get much more of it into my mouth in the position I’m in, while rubbing the shaft and tickling his balls.

When he speaks, his voice is thickened by lust. ‘Take off my jeans and shorts,’ he commands.

I leave his cock for long enough to do as he says, pulling his jeans and boxers down over hard muscled thighs and off him, discarding them in a heap while I return to his jutting erection. He is a truly magnificent sight, his cock rising thickly from the curling dark hair at its base, looking almost too large ever to be accommodated by me, but I’m longing to try. First I dip my head to kiss it again, this time running my tongue over the soft veined surface and breathing in the exhilarating scent of his maleness.

‘Play like that for a while,’ he says. ‘See if you can show me what you’ve learned about the mouth.’

I happily obey, sucking on him, rolling my tongue over the top of his cock, probing the tiny slit on the top, taking the smooth surface into my mouth and grazing my teeth across it. I rub at the shaft while I suck on his delicious knob, using more and more pressure as my own passions grow. I don’t know how long I can do this now without demanding that he fuck me properly, but luckily our thoughts are in unison, because when his cock is standing more stiffly than ever and throbbing hard under my hand, he moves suddenly. He takes me in his arms and kisses me, and I open my mouth to him so our tongues can meet. We are more close than ever, taking our pleasure in the long open kisses, our tongues darting in and out, playing on lips, running over teeth. My heart is racing as I feel him press his great hard thing against my belly. He turns me onto my back, presses my legs apart with his thigh and moves between them.

We’re staring deep into each other’s eyes now, reading our fevered lust there, and in our open mouths and panting breaths. I want him so badly, everything in me yearning for the feel of that splendid cock in me. I know this will be unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before but I’m more than ready for it.

We kiss again, our mouths hot, and I open my thighs wider to him, hoping to urge him on. Now I can feel him, that glorious stiffness hard against my mound, my little bud eager to cling to it and feel it rub across it. I moan.

‘Oh, please . . . I want it . . .’

His eyes glitter dangerously. He’s holding his shaft in one hand, getting ready to direct it where I want it so badly. ‘You want it, do you?’

‘Yes, yes,’ I cry, reckless in the desire he’s kindled in me. ‘Please, give it to me.’

His eyes are glassy with want as he pushes the tip of his cock to my slit. I rise to meet him, pushing my hips towards him. I can feel him pressing at my entrance. I’m so wet and slippery that the way is well lubricated but even so, the size of his cock and its girth means that he doesn’t simply slip into me. The great head pushes against my lips and I feel myself stretching deliciously to encompass him.

‘Ohhh,’ I sigh with rapture as he moves a centimetre deeper. He’s advancing slowly, holding back his considerable power to allow his cock to inch inside me in tiny but utterly divine progression. The sensation as he fills me makes me almost dizzy with delight. I open myself as wide as I can to him, eager for him to drive his whole cock home. I put one arm round his broad back, though I can hardly reach to its centre and with the other I grasp the arm that’s supporting him, the muscles bulging out.

‘Winter, you’re exquisite,’ he breathes. ‘Your body is beautiful inside as well as out. You feel amazing.’

I can’t speak, I can only register the intoxicating feelings he’s rousing in me as he pushes his huge shaft deeper and deeper inside me, until it feels as though he’s making his way into my very core. I thrill to the sensation of my belly being filled up as he buries himself inside me. Then he’s in to the hilt, and I sigh joyously as I feel his balls against my bottom.

The pleasure is unbelievable.

‘Are you enjoying your basic biology lesson?’ he asks breathlessly.

‘Very much,’ I manage to say.

‘You’re showing a marked talent for this. I shall have to see how we can progress your studies further.’

‘Please don’t stop teaching me,’ I beg.

‘I won’t, don’t worry about that.’ He begins to move his cock inside me and I groan with delight. It feels as though he could be no deeper within me as he begins to work away, thrusting in and out.

‘Oh . . . my God, that’s unbelievably delicious . . . it’s heaven . . . Oh . . .’ I am carried away by the beautiful feelings he’s stimulating in me with his movements. I never thought I could feel so utterly filled up, but his great shaft stretches me more delectably than I imagined possible. He begins to thrust harder, my hips rising to meet his. I can feel the grinding of his pubic bone on my clitoris, the slap of his balls on my bottom, the power of his thrusts which almost move me off our makeshift bed.

If I never have another lesson with Miles, I’ve learned so much about what pleasures there are to be enjoyed – and I know I’ve barely begun to comprehend what he can teach me. I can feel his cock throbbing and swelling inside me as he pumps it in and out. I clutch at his back and arm as the passion in me begins to become more than I can bear. His jaw is set and his eyes are burning with the force of his passion, and he grunts as he pushes himself home deep within me. We are two animals become one now, moving together, feeling our passions rising as the climax approaches. His strokes become harder, shorter as his cock jerks inside me. My bud thrills to the pressure of his body as he rubs on it just as the head of his erection hits home, creating divine pleasure for me. I sense through my own waves of enjoyment that he’s approaching a peak as well. Just as my orgasm engulfs me, making me dig my nails deep into the flesh of his arm, I feel him swell even more within me and then shoot out his climax inside me. He sinks down on me, groaning with the force of his orgasm as my vagina convulses around him, tightening with the waves of my powerful crescendo.

We don’t speak for a long time as our breathing returns to normal. He lies between my legs, his weight heavy upon me, his cock still sheathed inside me. I stroke a hand across the broad back that’s now dewy with the sweat of our exertions.

‘That was glorious,’ I say softly.

‘You are a delight,’ he replies, his voice tender now. ‘I meant to be much more restrained, but I couldn’t stop myself.’ He nuzzles into my neck. ‘I think that is probably more than enough education for now.’

I make a small noise of agreement. My eyelids flicker and close. I’m worn out by the bouts we’ve just enjoyed and now that the fire has died right down to little more than a red-gold glow, the room is almost completely dark. I’m warm from the love-making. Miles slowly withdraws and I’m too tired to bother with the need to tidy myself up. I curl up into his broad warm chest and fall asleep.

 

I don’t know how long I sleep for but when I wake it feels like the middle of the night. I’m desperate for a pee. Miles is still asleep and it’s almost completely dark in the little hut. It’s so quiet that I feel almost suspicious. What’s wrong? What’s missing? Then I realise: I’ve been used to the sound of the wind buffeting the little hut but that noise is gone. We’re in absolute quiet. I’ve never gone so long without access to my telephone or email or the Internet but it turns out that the world goes on without all the endless chatter and distraction. My life seems so full and busy but maybe real existence is this quiet isolation and my noisy, social flitting is the illusion.

I can make out some shapes in the darkness and I find the bucket in the corner. God, if it weren’t for this, I would be able to put up with this place a lot more easily. I pee as quietly as I can, and then go back to our bed. It’s chillier now, and all the sleeping bags are underneath us. Miles’s body emanates a good heat: he must be a warm-blooded creature, while I’m more prone to cold, always suffering with chilly toes and fingers. I snuggle up against him and fall back to sleep.

 

I wake to feel his mouth at my earlobe, tugging gently. He kisses the skin just below and then buries his face in the place where my neck and shoulder meet. He has wrapped me in his strong arms and I feel tiny in his muscled embrace. Hot against my hip is his hard erection.

‘Winter, are you awake?’ he murmurs.

‘Mmm,’ I say, coming to a little in the darkness, my skin awakening to the touch of him.

‘You’re so beautiful, so enchanting. I can’t resist you . . .’

‘Do I have another lesson?’

‘Think of it as revision,’ he murmurs. ‘Nothing new to learn, just consolidating . . .’ His cock is hard against me. I turn so that I’m facing him, and lift one leg up so that it rests on his thigh. He sighs with pleasure as he understands that I’m open to him now. He manoeuvres the head of his cock so that he’s at my entrance again. Just the feel of that great smooth head pushing at me sends judders of delight twisting through my stomach. I don’t think I could ever get tired of this delicious sensation: the pushing of his giant battering ram against the lips of muscle that guard my entrance, the stretching as I engulf it and he thrusts the thick shaft in as far as it will go, so that I’m impaled on him.

He’s in me suddenly, pushing through and into my vagina, filling it up with his cock. He pushes it home hard and I gasp. He pushes again, fast and fierce, driving the breath out of me with an ‘Oh!’ He’s clasping me fiercely, one hand cupping my buttocks, the other wrapped around my waist so he can move me up and down on his erection. There’s none of the slow savouring of our last encounter. He’s driving me hard – I understand now what riding means – he’s riding me – or I’m riding him as I take him into my very depths and thrust my hips to spur us both on.

‘Oh my God,’ I groan, throwing back my head. He’s consumed with passion now, sinking into me to the root, driving back and doing it again. His mouth finds mine and we begin to devour each other, our tongues twisting together, our saliva mingling as we ride the heat of our desire. He’s going hard and fast, it won’t be long before he comes, I can tell. This is not part of my education so much as him slaking his need.

‘You’re delicious, you’re so sexy,’ he says in my ear. ‘I can’t resist you . . . God, you’re making me come . . .’

The realisation that his orgasm is building floods me with hot excitement but before I can reach my own peak, he groans loudly and says, ‘Yes, oh . . . I’m coming now,’ and his thrusts become shorter and sharper and then he bursts a jetting climax inside me.

‘Oh . . . oh . . .’ I moan, inflamed by his passion.

Swiftly he thrusts again, his cock still huge and swollen inside me, and reaches down with one hand. The balls of his fingers find my throbbing clitoris and he begins to massage it hard, stroking and tickling and rousing it to an unbearable state of excitement. My thighs tighten, my fists clench and I cry out sharply as he strums my bud to beyond what it can bear and a delightfully sharp, electric orgasm shoots through me, stiffening my limbs in convulsive spasms. I’m left panting and replete. Miles pulls his cock slowly out of me.

‘Thank you,’ he says, kissing me lightly. ‘I love it when you come.’

‘I love it when I come too,’ I say, and he laughs.

‘A willing student. I can’t ask for anything more.’

We doze off again in one another’s arms.

 

When I wake, Miles isn’t beside me. The hut is full of a grey light. It’s day now and the storm is evidently over. I shiver, cold without his body to keep me warm. I’ve covered myself with some of the sleeping bag but not enough to be properly cosy.

Where is he? I wonder. Probably he’s gone out to relieve himself. No humiliating bucket for him. Men are so lucky that way. I wish he was with me. I’m engulfed with desire for his body, the warmth of his nearness.

Have I really had three orgasms since last night?

When I was with Jacob, I’d insist that I couldn’t possibly orgasm more than once a night, and when he’d tried to persuade me otherwise, I’d only ended up sore and grouchy. But now I understand that was because I’d never known what real desire – or real fucking – actually was. Now I think I’m probably capable of four orgasms or more, if only it’s Miles who’s fucking me . . .

The memory of our delightful night-time bout excites me.

Oh that cock – that utterly bloody magnificent cock. I sigh and flush at the thought of it and my sex prickles with longing. I laugh at myself. Ready for another go?

You bet I am. Where is he?

I want to sit with him, drink coffee with him, touch him, kiss him, taste him, fuck him. I remember the sight of his dark head buried between my legs. I could never tire of the delicious feelings he roused in me with his magical tongue.

I can hardly stand the way the recollection makes me feel. I shiver and stand up, taking one of the sleeping bags with me, wrapping it round me.

I can hear a strange noise: a thumping, thudding kind of noise, like a flag fluttering hard in a strong wind. I frown, wondering what it can be, and go to the window to look out but I can still see nothing but whiteness. It fades a little and then gets louder again. I’m still scrutinising the sky when the door of the hut opens and Miles comes in in a gust of freezing air. He’s dressed again and is smiling broadly at me.

‘Morning, lovely. How are you? Did you sleep all right?’

I nod, still frowning. ‘Yes, but . . . that noise, can you hear it?’

‘I certainly can. Don’t you know what it is?’ His eyes are bright.

‘No – what?’

‘It’s a helicopter. If I’m not much mistaken, we’ve been found. If they’ve got heat-seeking equipment, the fire that’s been burning in the hearth will be lighting this place up like a Christmas tree on their monitors. If they don’t know where we are yet, they will very soon.’ He walks up to me and throws his arms around me. ‘Don’t you see? We’re going to be rescued! It’s going to be okay.’

‘Oh,’ I say weakly. ‘That’s . . . that’s fantastic.’

But my heart is sinking. All I’ve wanted since the accident is for us to be found. So why do I now feel so utterly depressed?

Chapter Eighteen

The next day we pack up to leave the chalet.

The chef arrives to make us breakfast, as Miles thinks we require a little more than eggs on our last day. He’s a tall, red-faced man with enormous ears, who says little but produces a hearty meal to sustain us on the journey home.

It’s only when our bags are at the door and we’re upstairs waiting for our cars to collect us that I say casually to Miles: ‘So – what happens after this?’

I’m sitting on the sofa while he’s standing by the window looking out over the magnificent view, clouded over today with a hint of bad weather to come. He looks ready to be on his way in a Belstaff black leather aviator jacket and sunglasses. My skin tingles at the sight of him, remembering the delicious early morning sex we shared when we woke up. It was not the long, erotic experience of my lessons, but the kind I love almost as much: straightforward but intense as he kissed me deeply, parted my legs and pushed in the hot hardness of his morning erection. I wrapped my legs around his thighs, and we ran a fast course of deep, satisfying fucking that ended in crackling, electric orgasms that exploded swiftly over us.

I wanted to speak to him then, as we pulled apart in that hot post-sex sweat and dampness, but he was out and striding to the shower almost at once. The time wasn’t right to broach the issue.

He turns to me now, his expression inscrutable and his eyes hidden behind the mirrored shades. ‘After this?’ He smiles suddenly, making happiness course through me. I’d do anything for that smile. ‘Well, Winter, I think you’ve learned just about all I can teach you for now.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I say softly. ‘I think there’s more to learn. And I need to consolidate my knowledge. You don’t ask a girl to take her driving test after just one lesson.’

He laughs. ‘True.’ Pulling off his shades, he walks towards me and sits down beside me on the sofa. ‘But how long can this go on for? We can’t both keep escaping from our lives like this – even though it’s been a beautiful experience.’

‘Has it?’ It comes out almost in a whisper and I realise how badly I want him to have loved this as much as I have.

He takes my hand. ‘Of course it has.’ His other hand reaches out to stroke my hair and he looks at me with tenderness. ‘You’ve trusted me completely. That’s meant so much. You can’t know how much.’

‘I feel so safe with you.’ I gaze up at him, hoping to convey the things I dare not say to him.

The expression in his eyes changes again, and I see a glimpse of that awful sadness, darkening his eyes like a cloud blocking out the sunshine.

‘What is it?’ I beg, feeling as though I’ve blundered somehow. ‘What have I said?’

He looks away. ‘Nothing. Nothing. Really.’ He gazes back and I can see he’s made an effort to put whatever it is out of his mind. ‘Freya, I’ve been a coward. I’ve been putting off talking about this with you because I’ve enjoyed our lost weekend so much.’

Oh no! My heart begins to pound and a sick feeling makes my hands clammy.

‘But . . .’ He stands up. ‘I don’t plan to work for your father any more.’

‘What?’ I jump to my feet. ‘Why not?’

‘Because he’s lost his trust in me. I can see that. He and Pierre suspect me somehow, even though there’s no proof and no reason to. Now that you’ve explained what happened in the past, and the fact you were once betrayed by a guard, I can see where your father’s coming from. But the years have made him paranoid, and Pierre isn’t helping matters. He seems just as crazily suspicious – his job depends on it, I think. Pierre gets paid extremely well for reflecting back your father’s fears and, of course, making sure none of them are ever realised.’ Miles sighs and walks over to the fireplace where the hearth is now cold, scattered with the black ashes that are all that remains of the burning fire of last night. He picks up a poker and stirs them, but they remain cold and dead.

‘This is ridiculous,’ I say urgently. ‘Of course you must come back. They’ll soon realise they’ve been mistaken. I’ll tell my father and he’ll understand. I was there when we crashed, I know how it happened and it’s mad to think you could have somehow staged it. What do they think you hoped to gain out of it?’

He turns and looks at me with a long, penetrating stare and then says, ‘You. You, of course, Freya.’

‘Me?’ I blink at him, stunned.

‘Yes. You were out of his control for a couple of days while we were lost. Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?’

I shake my head, still taking in what he said.

‘It’s when someone is kidnapped, and they end up forming a relationship with their kidnappers, espousing their cause and turning to their side. Sometimes they can even end up falling in love.’

I feel a violent blush explode over my cheeks and I say, ‘That’s ridiculous.’

Miles doesn’t seem to notice my scarlet face but says, ‘They might think that a version of that has happened to you. They may even doubt there was a crash at all. They might think I pushed the car over the cliff and took you to the hut to brainwash you there, so that you’d back up my version of the story.’

‘But why? Why would you brainwash me?’

He smiles and says, ‘I love the way you can’t think of a reason. Why would a man want to brainwash a woman like you?’

My heart sinks as I realise that, of course, it all comes back to the same thing: money. My father’s fortune. The whole reason I lost my mother, why I live in fear of my life, why people blackmail me and ruin my relationships . . .

‘That’s right,’ Miles says softly, seeing the expression on my face. ‘Money. That’s what they think I want.’

‘But . . .’ I sigh hopelessly, looking around the room as though there is an answer hidden there. ‘I know that’s not true! I can tell them!’