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Their gazes were locked, mesmerised. Steam curled around them, enclosing them in a hazy, enchanted place that was quite separate from the rest of the alpine landscape with its sharp, clear air. Quite separate from anywhere Cristiano had ever known. His hands held her bottom as her hips moved and her softness enclosed him—hot and tight, her body as wet on the inside as it was on the outside.
Her blue gaze closed around him, as warm and silky as the water, sucking him in.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her lips parted as he felt the first spasms of her orgasm. It almost undid him, rocking the control that was the foundation of everything he did to its very core. Her eyes slid out of focus and he held her tighter, gathering her closer to him as her head tipped backwards and she gave a shivering gasp.
The convulsive spasms of her orgasm ricocheted through him, pushing him to the edge of a vortex, and the next moment he felt as if he was plummeting downwards, blackness enfolding him, as he spilled into her with a low, fierce moan.
The surface of the water grew gradually flat and glassy again, and the fire in the mountains died and they receded into the night—shadowy icebergs against a starry sky. Cradling her in his arms, Cristiano felt a curious peace. As if he never had to prove anything again. As if he had come home and was the man he‘d always wanted to be.
Chapter Seven
SOMEWHERE a phone was ringing.
Kate‘s eyes flew open and she sat up, disentangling herself from Cristiano‘s embrace as she looked around dazedly. It was early—the dirty yellowish light of a sunless dawn filled the room like fog, and beyond the window the mountains were barely distinguishable against the colourless sky.
The phone rang again—a synthesised burst of electronic noise that was made to sound like the ring of an old fashioned telephone. Adrenaline burst through Kate‘s bloodstream, and her heart was battering against her ribs as she got out of bed, picking up a towel from the floor and wrapping it around her. It was cold and damp.
What‘s the matter?‘
From the bed, Cristiano‘s voice was gravelly with sleep.
My phone,‘ Kate muttered, rummaging through the clothes in her bag, her trembling fingers tangling in cool blue satin as she searched for it. I can‘t find it.‘
The ringing continued, exasperatingly distant.
Getting out of bed in one lithe, liquid movement, Cristiano loped to the doors onto the balcony and pulled them open, letting in a blast of snow and bitter air. For a split second some abstract part of Kate‘s brain registered the aesthetic perfection of the snapshot image—his warm butterscotch coloured skin standing out against the stark monochrome of the landscape, his sculpted frame every bit as powerful and magnificent as the mountains. And as distant.
He picked up her jeans from the floor, where she had stepped out of them last night. Immediately the electronic noise got louder. Slipping the phone from the pocket, he glanced at the screen before holding it out to her. His eyes were hooded and opaque.
Someone called Dominic.‘
Oh, God.‘
The blood drained downwards, leaving her feel hollowed-out and dizzy with dread. Her hand was shaking so much that it took three attempts to hit the button to accept the call. Muttering vague pleas under her breath, she pressed it to her ear, vaguely aware of Cristiano pulling on jeans and walking past her to the door, but too dazed with alarm to register the careful blankness of his expression.
Dominic! Is everything—‘ Her throat was full of sand, and she had to swallow awkwardly before continuing. Is everything all right?‘
Kate, sweetheart—now, please don‘t panic.‘
The words were reassuring enough, but the tone in which he spoke them was anything but. There was no trace of its usual ironic, bantering note, and in its place was a gentle gravity that made the ground tilt beneath her feet.
What is it?‘ she whispered hoarsely. It‘s Alexander, isn‘t it? Is he ill?‘
It‘s probably nothing,‘ Dominic replied quickly. But he‘s a bit off-colour.
He had a bit of a temperature yesterday, and was complaining of a headache, and then he was sick in the night.‘
Oh…‘ It was an exhalation of relief. She felt like the damsel tied to the railway tracks in the old black-and-white movies, when the train driver had put the brakes on just in time. He‘ll probably be lots better this morning. Sometimes these stomach bugs are really horrible, but they only last a few—‘
Very gently, Dominic cut her off. Kate, honey, it doesn‘t look like it‘s a stomach bug. We‘ve brought him into hospital just in case.‘
Hospital?‘ She bit her lip against a whimper of distress. Oh, God, Dominic, what for? Please—just tell me what‘s happening.‘
They‘re doing some tests…just to be on the safe side…to rule out anything serious.‘
Serious?‘ Kate echoed numbly. The train was gathering speed again, bearing down on her. What kind of serious?‘
There was a pause. Wrapped in the damp towel, Kate suddenly realised she was shaking violently.
Meningitis.‘
The room went black. A whooshing sound filled her head. The train hit. She swayed, groping blindly behind her for the edge of the bed.
Oh, God,‘ she breathed hoarsely. Oh, God.‘
Sweetheart, please—don‘t panic,‘ Dominic begged. He‘s completely stable at the moment, and he‘s in absolutely the right place. Honestly—the doctors are totally in control. It‘s just a question of finding out exactly what it is so they can start him on the right antibiotics.‘
Kate stood up again, staggering forward and starting to stuff the clothes that were spilling out of her bag back in. I should be there,‘ she whispered. I have to be with him.‘
Of course. I knew you‘d want to be. I‘ve managed to book you on a flight from Nice this morning at nine. That means you‘re going to have to get a move on, darling. Can you do that?‘
Yes.‘ The jeans that had been left out on the balcony all night were soaking wet. She bundled them up and shoved them into the bag anyway. Nice. Nine a.m.
I just have to…‘ She straightened up, pressing her hand to her head as she remembered the long drive northwards the other night. Oh, God, I don‘t know…‘
Kate, it‘s going to be fine,‘ Dominic said firmly, as if he was talking to a child. You are absolutely not to do your usual ¯worst-case scenario? on this—do you hear me? Telling you on the phone makes it all sound much worse than it is—you‘ll see when you get here. Alexander‘s feeling a bit rough, and he wants his mummy, but he‘s going to be all right so please, please don‘t worry.‘
No. Right.‘ Going into the bathroom for her toothbrush, Kate caught sight of her face in the mirror above the sink. Her eyes were two dark pools in a face that was waxen with horror.
G-give him my love, won‘t you?‘ She watched her bloodless lips form the words. Tell him I—‘
She stalled as the panic closed up her throat and tears suddenly spilled from her eyes.
You can tell him yourself in a few hours,‘ Dominic said gently. I‘ll see you at the airport.‘
Nodding mutely, Kate let the phone fall from her ear and closed her eyes as the tears ran down her cheeks. Alexander‘s face swam in the darkness in her head: his smile, and the way it made dimples show in cheeks that were as smooth and brown as caramel, his dark, dark, expressive eyes…
Here.‘
She jerked her head up and found herself looking straight into another pair of bitter-chocolate-coloured eyes. Cristiano was standing in front of her, holding out a mug of steaming coffee.
Thank you.‘ She took it quickly and ducked past him, out of the confined space of the bathroom, and back into the bedroom where she started to pull things out of her bag again, looking for something to wear.
I have to get home.‘
So I gathered.‘ He was leaning against the doorframe, his voice cool and neutral.
Kate‘s teeth were chattering. I need to get to Nice airport. My flight is at nine, so I need to check in at eight, which means…‘ She went to look at her watch, blinking stupidly at her wrist for a moment before she realised she wasn‘t wearing it.
Picking it up from the bedside table, Cristiano handed it to her. His face was shadowed with stubble, which gave a sexy, dishevelled edge to his beauty—or would have done if it wasn‘t for the mask-like blankness of his expression.
Impossible, I‘m afraid. We‘re at least five hours from Nice.‘
But I have to get there,‘ she gasped, feeling as if she was hanging by the slenderest thread over a vast, dark, churning abyss. My son is in hospital!‘
Her anguished outburst was interrupted by the sound of Cristiano‘s mobile phone. Answering it, he turned away, talking in husky, rapid Italian that at any other time would have made Kate‘s blood quicken. Now she could feel nothing but agony at his indifference. Vaguely she wondered if he was talking to a woman—making arrangements for a replacement as soon as she was gone.
