A Lesson in Desire: Season of Desire Part 3 (Seasons Quartet) by Sadie Matthews Read Free Book Online Page B

forests slope away from the road and as we climb higher, I get a strange frisson of sick fear remembering the last time I was in a car on a mountainside, even though today is nothing like that stormy, snowy morning. A short way out of the village, the driver takes a turning and then another and we are suddenly on level ground, following a curving driveway round until we see before us a beautiful chalet. It’s very traditional, the bottom storey in light stone, the top storeys in dark wood with bright red shutters at the windows and a wooden balcony that faces out towards the village that lies prettily below. The sloping roof is laden with at least a foot of pristine snow, and the place is ringed with pine trees at the sides and back.
    The driver gets out and opens the car door for me. I climb out, blinking in the afternoon sun. This is a beautiful place, close to the village and yet completely isolated too. The driver takes out my suitcase.
    ‘Shall I carry it inside, madam?’ he asks.
    ‘No. Don’t worry. I’ll take it myself.’ I press a tip into his hand. He murmurs his thanks and gets back into the car. A moment later, he’s driving away and I’m left here alone in front of the chalet.
    This is the place. Step one complete.
    I pick up my bag and walk up to the front door. I’m jumpy with nerves and the tingling of a pleasant excitement as I ring the bell, but there’s no answer. After a few moments I try the door handle. It turns under my hand and the door opens. I step into a hallway.
    I gaze around the room with its tiled floor, white walls and simple wooden benches. It’s completely empty. A staircase leads away in front of me to the next floor. I wonder if this is Miles’s home. ‘Hello?’
    There’s no reply. Mystified, I head for the staircase and soon I emerge on the first floor to find myself in a large room with spectacular views over the mountains. The wooden floors are covered in rugs, and cosy armchairs and sofas piled with cushions are grouped around a fireplace where flames flicker over logs. Lamps glow on the side tables. Through an archway I can see a dining room and beyond that a kitchen. Another staircase leads upstairs. It’s beautiful but not the kind of place I’d imagined Miles to own.
    ‘Hello?’ I call again, but there is still no reply. I put down my case and walk through the room to the dining area where a carved wooden table is surrounded by chairs upholstered in red-and-white cushions. On the table is a note. I pick it up.
     
    Winter
    Make yourself at home. Prepare for your tutorial. It will start at four o’clock precisely.
     
    I feel a lazy somersault of exhilaration turn in my stomach and wonder what Miles has in mind to teach me today. Four o’clock. I have less than an hour. I return to my bag, pick it up and go upstairs where I find the four bedrooms, each one with a beamed ceiling and furnished with comfortable-looking beds, antique chests and soft armchairs. The main one has a huge bed covered in a beautifully embroidered counterpane. Vast lamps sit on tables either side of it and it faces a fireplace with a stone surround. Before the hearth is a huge white fur rug. I shiver, unable to help imagining all the delicious things that Miles might do to me in this room.
    I’ve been riding high on my excitement ever since yesterday morning when I received his text. It had been agonising saying goodbye to him in the silent corridors of the staff quarters.
    ‘Don’t worry about the security cameras,’ he’d murmured to me when we reached the elevator. He dropped a kiss on my cheek. ‘I’ll deal with them.’
    ‘What are you going to do? How will you get away from here?’
    ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll sort it. Just wait for my message.’
    With a final swift kiss, he’d ushered me into the elevator and I’d watched, racked with longing, as the doors closed on him. I hadn’t expected to sleep that night but I’d reckoned without the accumulated exhaustion