Season of Desire: Complete Edition (46 page)

I feel as though I deserve the stab of pain that comment provokes in me. He’s right. One Emma Trent is worth ten of me. I’m possessed by a deep yearning to be more worthy of his love and to earn his admiration.

‘But,’ he goes on, ‘I didn’t realise that you’d need me just as much as she did. To survive and to get through. I didn’t understand that rich girls can be unhappy, and that your challenges may be different, but they matter too. Everyone suffers in life, I suppose, and who’s to judge what the degrees of suffering are?’

‘You’ve saved my life,’ I say sincerely. ‘Not just that day on the mountain, or in Jacob’s flat. You’ve given me hope and love.’

Miles turns to me so that we lie facing each other, our cheeks almost touching, our lips close, as we stare into each other’s eyes. ‘You’ve given the same to me,’ he murmurs. ‘Hope and love. Love and hope.’

‘I think that means we have to be together,’ I say softly, my heart welling up with love for him.

‘You know what?’ He kisses the tip of my nose. ‘So do I. I think we’re going to have to make it happen, Winter . . .’

I sigh happily. ‘Looks like I haven’t graduated yet!’

‘Are you kidding? You’re still a junior. We’ve got plenty to learn together yet.’

‘As long as we’re together, I’m happy to be taught by you forever.’ I kiss him on the lips and we begin to touch the tips of our tongues together, opening our mouths into a deep kiss.

Suddenly I pull away and sit up, saying loudly, ‘Rhino!’

‘What?’ Miles sits up too, laughing. ‘What do you mean, rhino?’

‘And Mandy!’ I say, almost stuttering in my excitement. ‘Of course, Mandy!’

‘What are you talking about?’ He looks at me bewildered.

I clutch at him and say hotly, ‘It’s not Jane-Elizabeth. She didn’t do it. She didn’t tell the press anything. It was Estella.’

Miles stares at me. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because she told me herself! I expect she thought she was being very clever.’ I laugh at the memory of it. ‘She was talking about me finding something to do with myself and we were talking about charity work, and she said something about me helping Mandys and other fallen women – or
saving the rhino
!’ I gaze at Miles, my eyes bright.

He shakes his head, still puzzled. ‘It’s no clearer, I’m afraid.’

‘Estella must have just watched that tape of Jacob. She got her hands on it somehow. He was filmed having sex with call girls and one of them was called Mandy! She’s mentioned on the tape. That’s where Estella got the name from. And Jacob has a tattoo of a rhino, and the camera was on it for ages. She was letting me know that she’d seen the tape but enjoying the joke, thinking I wouldn’t guess.’ I blink as thoughts flood into my mind. ‘I bet Jane-Elizabeth doesn’t know that Estella has hacked her email and is rifling through my father’s office. I’ve got to warn her.’ I make to get out of bed, but Miles pulls me back, embracing me in his strong arms again.

‘Hey,’ he says, ‘calm down. For one thing, it’s late. And for another, we need to think this through. If you’re right, then any message you send to Jane-Elizabeth will be intercepted by Estella. You’ll need to take your time and think of a strategy.’

‘You’re right,’ I say, relaxing. ‘I got carried away.’ I nuzzle into his shoulder. ‘No one knows we’re here. We’re safe. We’ll come up with a plan together, won’t we?’

‘Yes. And something tells me that we’re going to be a formidable team.’ He kisses me gently.

I sigh. ‘I’m so happy though! So happy that it’s not Jane-Elizabeth after all. I don’t know how I could have suspected her.’ I rub my cheek against him. Fatigue envelopes me in a kind of blissful torpor. I yawn.

‘You’re tired, Freya. Time to go to sleep. I’ll be with you in the morning and we can make our plans.’

My eyes start to close. ‘But we’ll be together, won’t we? You won’t leave me?’

‘We’ll be together, Freya, I promise. I’m not going to leave you.’

Wrapped tight in his arms, I fall asleep, knowing that the nightmares won’t come any more. I’m safe again, sheltered from the storm in Miles’s arms.

Acknowledgements

My thanks to everyone involved in the creation of this book, particularly to Francesca, my very patient editor, to Justine for her wonderful copyediting and to Clare for proofreading the script. I thank the Hodder team for all their splendid support and hard work, especially Carolyn and Emilie. I also want to mention my agent Lizzy and her assistant Harriet, for their unfailing support and work on my behalf.

Thanks to all my readers and the many lovely messages I get over Twitter – I value your enthusiasm and encouragement very much!

You’ll be captivated by the second novel in Sadie Matthews’s exhilarating, intoxicating Seasons Quartet series, coming soon . . .

Season of Passion

Flora Hammond is trying to make her dream of being an actress come true by studying her craft in Paris. But she cannot escape her privileged background and the paranoia of her wealthy father who is obsessive about his daughters’ safety. The situation is not helped by the fact that Flora’s older sister, Freya, has just run off with her bodyguard.

Drawn into the family scandal, Flora tries to make peace between the warring factions. In the meantime, her path crosses with that of a mysterious businessman, Andrei Dubrovski, and there is an instant attraction between them. Even though Flora is warned off getting involved with him, she doesn’t think she can resist. Is Freya right when she claims that their father’s girlfriend Estella is engaged in a campaign against the sisters? And where has Freya disappeared to? Does Estella have the power to split the family apart, even to the point of breaking the bond between Flora and her twin sister, Summer?

As Flora’s obsession with Andrei grows, it’s clear that where passion is concerned, the heart has its reasons . . .

Have you read the
After Dark
series by Sadie Matthews? Deeply intense and romantic, provocative and sensual, it will take you to a place where love and sex are liberated from their limits.

FIRE AFTER DARK

It started with a spark . . .

Everything changed when I met Dominic. My heart had just been broken, split into jagged fragments that can jigsaw together to make me look enough like a normal, happy person.

Dominic has shown me a kind of abandonment I’ve never known before. He takes me down a path of pure pleasure, but of pain, too – his love offers me both lightness and dark. And where he leads me, I have no choice but to follow.

Out now in ebook, paperback and audio

Read on for a taste of the first book in the series . . .

Chapter One

The city takes my breath away as it stretches beyond the taxi windows, rolling past like giant scenery being unfurled by an invisible stagehand. Inside the cab, I’m cool, quiet and untouchable. Just an observer. But out there, in the hot stickiness of a July afternoon, London is moving hard and fast: traffic surges along the lanes and people throng the streets, herds of them crossing roads whenever the lights change. Bodies are everywhere, of every type, age, size and race. Millions of lives are unfolding on this one day in this one place. The scale of it all is overwhelming.

What have I done?

As we skirt a huge green space colonised by hundreds of sunbathers, I wonder if this is Hyde Park. My father told me that Hyde Park is bigger than Monaco. Imagine that. Monaco might be small, but even so. The thought makes me shiver and I realise I’m frightened. That’s odd because I don’t consider myself a cowardly person.

Anyone would be nervous
, I tell myself firmly. But it’s no surprise my confidence has been shot after everything that’s happened lately. The familiar sick feeling churns in my stomach and I damp it down.

Not today. I’ve got too much else to think about. Besides, I’ve done enough thinking and crying. That’s the whole reason I’m here.

‘Nearly there, love,’ says a voice suddenly, and I realise it’s the taxi driver, his voice distorted by the intercom. I see him watching me in the rear-view mirror. ‘I know a good short cut from here,’ he says, ‘no need to worry about all this traffic.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, though I expected nothing less from a London cabbie; after all, they’re famous for their knowledge of the city’s streets, which is why I decided to splurge on one instead of wrestling with the Underground system. My luggage isn’t enormous but I didn’t relish the idea of heaving it on and off trains and up escalators in the heat. I wonder if the driver is assessing me, trying to guess what on earth I’m doing going to such a prestigious address when I look so young and ordinary; just a girl in a flowery dress, red cardigan and flip-flops, with sunglasses perched in hair that’s tied in a messy ponytail, strands escaping everywhere.

‘First time in London, is it?’ he asks, smiling at me via the mirror.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ I say. That isn’t strictly true. I came as a girl at Christmas once with my parents and I remember a noisy blur of enormous shops, brightly lit windows, and a Santa whose nylon trousers crackled as I sat on his knee, and whose polyester white beard scratched me softly on the cheek. But I don’t feel like getting into a big discussion with the driver, and anyway the city is as good as foreign to me. It’s my first time alone here, after all.

‘On your own, are you?’ he asks and I feel a little uncomfortable, even though he’s only being friendly.

‘No, I’m staying with my aunt,’ I reply, lying again.

He nods, satisfied. We’re pulling away from the park now, darting with practised agility between buses and cars, swooping past cyclists, taking corners quickly and flying through amber traffic lights. Then we’re off the busy main roads and in narrow streets lined by high brick-and-stone mansions with tall windows, glossy front doors, shining black iron railings, and window boxes spilling with bright blooms. I can sense money everywhere, not just in the expensive cars parked at the roadsides, but in the perfectly kept buildings, the clean pavements, the half-glimpsed maids closing curtains against the sunshine.

‘She’s doing all right, your aunt,’ jokes the driver as we turn into a small street, and then again into one even smaller. ‘It costs a penny or two to live around here.’

I laugh but don’t reply, not knowing what to say. On one side of the street is a mews converted into minute but no doubt eye-wateringly pricy houses, and on the other a large mansion of flats, filling up most of the block and going up six storeys at least. I can tell from its Art Deco look that it was built in the 1930s; the outside is grey, dominated by a large glass-and-walnut door. The driver pulls up in front of it and says, ‘Here we are then. Randolph Gardens.’

I look out at all the stone and asphalt. ‘Where are the gardens?’ I say wonderingly. The only greenery visible is the hanging baskets of red and purple geraniums on either side of the front door.