A Lesson of Intensity: Season of Desire Part 2 (Seasons Quartet) Read Online Free Page B

between us. All the intimacy we shared yesterday, the relationship we built up, is all gone. And that’s my fault. I wish so much I didn’t sabotage everything that matters to me. But I have a chance to put it right. In this situation, no one can jump on a plane and fly across the world because they’re offended. There’s no huge mansion to keep the warring factions apart. We’re together with nowhere else to go. We can’t hide from what’s gone wrong and we have to put it right, or coexist in miserable enmity.
      ‘Miles, I want…’ There’s that nervous fluttering in my stomach. I’ve said sorry before but this is a little different. ‘I want to apologise for the way I spoke to you earlier. It was awful and you must despise me for it. I know I shouldn’t throw my weight around and give orders, and behave so childishly, most of all to you when I owe you for saving my life. So… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Can you forgive me?’
      He takes all this in impassively.
      I watch him, anxious. Is he going to accept my apology or not? He probably doesn’t realise how rare it is for me to humble myself in front of someone else – especially not an employee.        
      ‘Of course I forgive you,’ he says at last, his voice gruff. ‘Thank you, Freya. I appreciate it.’
      ‘Are we okay again then?’ I say, venturing a smile at him.
      He lets the corners of his mouth turn upwards a little, and something in the set line of his shoulders relaxes a little. ‘Yeah. Sure. Of course we are. Now – will it be stew again or do you fancy minestrone instead?’
     
    Despite my apology, the atmosphere is still a little awkward and we busy ourselves with activity to get over it. Miles brings in the logs he left near the door and sets them to dry, and we heat up an unidentifiable casserole for our midday meal, following it with a cup of instant black coffee. Miles talks a lot, telling me what he discovered on his recce earlier and what conclusions he’s drawn about how our rescue might be effected.
      I listen, taking comfort from the soft burr of his voice and the pleasure of having him near to me. His solid masculinity is reassuring, and the way my body constantly responds to his presence, my skin prickling and tingling whenever he gets close, is something I can’t help enjoying. I won’t be so stupid as to command him to give me pleasure again, but I can still take it even if he’s unaware that he’s giving it.
      When Miles speculates about the rescue attempts, I wonder what’s happening back at home. It’s a full day since I walked into that garage with Miles, and the car purred out to head down the mountain. The two of us have disappeared without trace as far as the outside world is concerned. Has anyone noticed? Does anyone care? I imagine Summer sending me a message and wondering why she hasn’t heard back. She’ll be looking at my networking feeds, to see what I’m saying about LA, and there’ll be nothing. Maybe Flora has sent emails and is surprised I haven’t replied.
      I imagine everyone going about their daily lives without worrying about me, oblivious to my plight. Then I catch myself up. It’s just self-pity talking. I know very well that my father will have been told within a very short time that I didn’t make the plane. The fact that Miles didn’t return will have alerted the house to something out of the ordinary, if nothing else. I can picture my father now, in a fury of panicked activity as he tries to find out where I am. The thought is comforting. I want him to care about me.
     
    I look over at Miles, who is drinking his coffee and leafing through the visitors’ book, trying to read in the glow from the fire.
    I wonder if someone is frantic with worry about him. He’s lost too, after all.
    I picture a beautiful woman with two young children. She’s walking around a kitchen, a phone clutched to one ear as she tries to feed a baby in a highchair and a toddler.