Season of Desire: Complete Edition (27 page)

Miles looks puzzled. ‘Look, I know you girls are under a constant kidnap threat. All kids of famously rich men are. But even so, your dad takes things to extremes. Right from the start, we were told that you girls had to be protected to a greater degree than I’ve ever experienced. There’s a virtual full-time surveillance operation mounted on you. Why is your dad so paranoid?’

I turn back to my plate, my carefree mood evaporating. ‘I . . . It’s hard to explain. It’s because . . . of something that happened.’

Miles frowns. ‘What? What happened? You can tell me, you know that.’

I rest my elbow on the table and prop up my head with my hand. I feel jittery inside. I’ve never talked about this with anyone outside my immediate family – if you don’t count the shrinks they sent me to. ‘It’s because . . .’ I take a deep breath and start looking with intense interest at the grain in the wood of the table. ‘Years ago, I was kidnapped. My mother and I were taken hostage.’

‘What?’

I look up to see Miles looking genuinely astonished. ‘They didn’t tell you, then?’

‘No, they bloody didn’t! Why didn’t anyone say anything about this? How come I’ve never heard anything about it?’

I feel a strange dragging sensation of fear and loss, the one that always comes when I think about the events of my childhood. It’s why I try not to remember them. ‘It was all hushed up. It wasn’t difficult because no one even knew we were taken. It was in Italy, where my mother and I were staying at some grand villa. My sisters weren’t there, I can’t remember why. It was just Mama and me. One night, when I was sleeping, I was woken up and there was this huge man there, sitting on my bed and watching me. When he realised I’d woken up, he clamped his hand over my mouth, picked me up and rushed me out to a van where my mother was already a prisoner. They tied us up and put tape over our mouths and drove us in our pyjamas to the mountains. They kept us there in a cave.’

Miles is open mouthed. When he can speak, he almost splutters. ‘But this is bloody awful! You were
kidnapped
? What the hell happened?’

I trace the patterns in the wood with my forefinger. My heart is racing at the memory and the nightmare images that play in my mind: my mother in her blue dressing gown, bound, her frightened eyes staring at me above the gag across her mouth; the dark interior of the van; the silhouette of olive trees against a greenish sky as we’re hustled to the cave and dumped deep inside with frightened young men armed with knives as our guards. I try to tell him about it but I can’t summon up the words to convey the terror. When I talk, I begin to stutter and choke.

‘Hey, hey, hey.’ He’s beside me in an instant, his arms around me, hugging and comforting me with the warmth of his body, the touch of his cheek on mine. ‘Hush, hush,’ he soothes. ‘There’s no need to say anything you don’t want to. It sounds like a nightmare, sweetheart. A terrible ordeal. No wonder you were messed up by it.’ He pulls away and fixes me with his concerned blue eyes. ‘But you were okay, right? You and your mother got out okay?’

I nod. ‘Yeah. We were rescued after a while.’

‘How long?’

‘Two weeks.’

‘
Two weeks?
’ He looks horrified. ‘Christ, if I’d known this had happened to you, I would have handled our crash differently. No wonder you were so terrified.’

‘They found us eventually,’ I say in a flat voice. ‘The guards didn’t struggle, they gave us up so easily that I think they were relieved it was all over. I’d already guessed that most of them weren’t happy with the whole thing. It was one leader who made them all go through with it. But the men who looked after us, they were kind mostly. And they could tell that my mother was sick and getting sicker.’

‘Oh no . . .’ Miles’s voice is tender as realisation dawns in his eyes.

I nod. ‘She was on medication to control a condition that I didn’t even know she had. Without it, she began to deteriorate. By the end of the fortnight she had sunk into a coma. When they found us, it was too late for her.’

‘Freya, I’m so sorry.’ Miles pulls me close into his arms and my head rests against the solid security of his chest. I want to cry but my eyes are dry. I’ve not cried about it for years, not since I swore I wouldn’t it let it hurt me. I took the memories of my mother’s last weeks and shut them away. ‘That’s a terrible story.’ He sways with me for a few minutes, comforting me with his body. Then he says softly, ‘But how come it was kept a secret? Why wasn’t it discovered?’

When I speak, my voice is a little muffled by his chest. ‘Because it was an inside job.’

‘What did you say?’ He pulls back to look at me.

‘One of our bodyguards planned the whole thing and carried it out. The kidnappers demanded absolute secrecy and we gave it because my father suspected from the start it was one of the guards. Instead of involving the police, he tried to use local contacts to infiltrate them with bribed informers.’

‘Did it work?’

‘I don’t know. But he found us. Eventually.’

Miles stares into my eyes and then says in a low voice, ‘That guy was evil. The guards you have at home, all around you . . . we’re not like that. You have to believe me.’

‘I believe you’re not,’ I say softly. ‘I can’t imagine you ever doing such a thing.’

He looks fierce. ‘Of course I bloody wouldn’t! I ensure people’s safety and nothing else! For Christ’s sake!’ He hits the table suddenly and violently, making me jump. He’s breathing hard as he looks at me apologetically. ‘Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to frighten you. It’s just . . .’ He looks away, his expression inscrutable. ‘Bastards like that make me fucking furious, that’s all. You’re safe with me, you know that.’

I nod. ‘I do know that.’

‘Good.’ He strokes my hair gently and smiles, evidently calmer. ‘Good. I’m glad to hear it. Now . . . you must be tired.’

‘
You
must be tired.’ I smile back, relieved we’re on happier ground.

‘You know what? I think two lessons are enough for today. We should save something for tomorrow.’

‘Hmm, let me see, what have we got? Oh yes – water and earth.’ I smile again, glad to put the horrible memories I’ve conjured up back in their rightful place, shut away in the depths of my mind. ‘You’ve already surprised me with fire and air. I can’t wait to see what you do tomorrow.’

Miles wraps his hand round mine and squeezes gently. ‘Got to keep you guessing, right? Boring, predictable lessons are never effective, or so I believe. Come on. Let’s turn in.’

‘Can we have some revision before tomorrow?’ I ask meekly, getting up to follow him.

‘Your thirst for knowledge is insatiable,’ he says with a laugh, taking my hand to lead me to the upstairs bedroom. ‘It does you credit.’

‘It’s because I have the best teacher,’ I return. ‘You stimulate my . . . mind.’

Later, after a soft and tender bout of lovemaking, I’m lying in bed, looking up through the skylight in the beams at the gleaming stars so far above us. Miles has his arms around me and I’m gently running my finger up and down the smooth flesh of his arm.

I remember how, according to Miles, Aristotle said that space and the stars were made of aether
.
The stuff of heavenly substance.

I lean towards him. He’s more than half asleep, his eyes closed and his breathing deep and regular. ‘I’ve thought of something else.’

Miles grunts. ‘Uh? What?’

‘Something else to add to the things made of aether. You know, heavenly things.’

‘Uh.’

I can tell he’s almost asleep but I can’t help whispering on. ‘Well, you know, I think that the experience of an orgasm – that’s heavenly. Should we add that?’

‘Mmm. Let’s.’

‘Good. Champagne, stars and orgasms. But there’s something else, even better than orgasms.’

After a deep sigh, he says, ‘Is there?’

‘Yes.’

I wait for a long time. When I’m sure he’s asleep from the pace of his breathing, I say gently, ‘I think it’s love.’

The word hangs there in the warm darkness, filling me with strange excitement. I can hardly believe I’ve dared to say it. I only did it because I was sure he wouldn’t hear me but I wanted the pleasure of hinting to him how my feelings for him are ripening. I breathe a long, happy sigh, contented in my body and heart. Somehow the experience of telling him about my mother and what we endured has lightened my soul a little. Five minutes seems to have achieved what hours of therapy could not. My body luxuriates in the feel of his, and my sex aches a little with the use I’ve put it to today.

More tomorrow, I hope.

I close my eyes.

‘Goodnight, Winter.’

Miles’s voice makes my eyes flick open with surprise. I turn towards him. ‘Are you awake?’

There’s no answer, just another deep, slumbering breath.

Oh God, did he hear me? Did he hear me talk about love?

I can’t know. Not now.

There’s more to learn tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen

I’m lying in darkness, surrounded by cool, fetid blackness. Nearby I can feel the damp chill of a rock wall. I blink, trying to make out what or who is around me. I can feel their presence although I can’t see anything. I’m paralysed by the darkness, and by the fear growing inside me. The presence is close. I can hear its breathing.

I manage to move. I can stretch out a hand and touch something. It’s a rough fabric, like towelling, and underneath it is a firmness. I must be touching someone – a body – but it’s almost too cool for that. Where is the body heat? Why is there no warmth? My fingertips run lightly over the roughness.

‘Mama?’ I whisper.

There is no answer, just the faintest hint of a sigh on the night air. And then, from nowhere, a hand grabs my wrist, seizing it with a hard, iron grip. My eyes fly open in shock against the darkness and I gasp, and then scream in utter terror—

‘Freya, Freya! Wake up, sweetheart, you’re all right. It’s just a bad dream. I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.’

Strong arms are wrapped tightly around me, and at first I struggle, trying to fight off the horrifying grip in my dreams. I’m blinded by fear, gasping and crying.

‘Freya! You’re all right! I’m here . . .’

At last his voice penetrates my consciousness and my terror subsides. I slump into his arms, panting and sobbing as I realise, with a drenching relief, that I’m safe. Of course, I know where I am. I’m in the beautiful master bedroom of a chalet just above Klosters. I’m in Miles’s arms after spending the night with him. I ought to be in a state of bliss but here I am, still gasping after my nightmare, my eyes streaming.

‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ I say between intakes of breath. ‘I’m sorry!’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ he soothes me, ‘it’s fine, it’s okay now. Did you have a nightmare?’

I nod.

‘It’s because of what we talked about last night, isn’t it?’ Miles says softly. His blue eyes gaze into mine, tender but questioning.

‘I guess it must be.’ I take a deep breath and let out a long sigh, trying to get my breathing back on track and restore myself to calmness. ‘Sometimes I get these flashbacks. They’re so powerful. They must be dreams but they feel so real. At first I dream that I’m sleeping and then, in my dream, I wake up. But it feels exactly like what waking up is like, and so when the bad stuff comes I truly believe in it.’

‘That sounds awful, you poor wee thing.’ Miles’s voice is so gentle, his Scottish accent so sweetly comforting in the way it rolls softly, enveloping me like a soft duvet.

‘And I can’t describe the presence – I can never see it. It’s near me and it’s so real, I can hear its breathing and feel its mass – sometimes its weight if I’m on a bed. It’s watching me and I can’t move, and at first I don’t know if it’s good or evil, it just seems curious about me. Then . . . then . . . I realise it wants to harm me.’ A sob in my throat catches me by surprise and I hunch forward. Miles’s arms tighten around me and he hushes me quietly, as I shake off the nauseous feeling that comes with the memory of that awful thing.

‘I don’t have to be Doctor Freud to interpret that dream,’ Miles says in a low voice, rocking me a little. ‘Not now you’ve told me about what happened in your past.’

I nod miserably. ‘I know. So often I’m back there – in that cave. With my mother.’

‘You’re safe with me,’ he says firmly. ‘I’ll always keep you safe.’

‘Well . . .’ I sniff and manage a laugh. ‘You
are
a bodyguard, aren’t you? It’s your job.’

He looks at me solemnly, his blue eyes as serious as I’ve ever seen them. ‘But we both know that you’ve got a good reason to be suspicious of bodyguards. No wonder you always had such an attitude towards me and the others.’

‘I suppose I have found it hard to trust after what happened. The fact that we were betrayed by someone who was supposed to keep us safe was very scarring.’

‘Well, I know that now.’ He shakes his head. ‘Personally I think we should have been told about this event. It would help us all understand your father’s paranoia and over-the-top demands. The security checks he insists on would put a military installation to shame. And it might make relations with you, our charges, a little bit easier if we knew about the history involved.’