by Lyn Horner
The waiter arrived with their food. She tasted her shrimp salad, finding it delicious, while Tristan cut into his steak. By unspoken agreement, they avoided any serious topics of conversation from then on. The short December day had waned by the time they finished eating. Arm in arm, they strolled back to Tristan’s car and headed for Long Island.
“This is going to take a while,” he said as they crawled along through heavy rush hour traffic.” He sat with one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel and the other lying relaxed on his thigh.
“So I see. I told Sally not to expect me back until evening, but maybe I should take a cab. Don’t you need to be at the restaurant soon?”
“Nope, I told Gus I was taking the day off. Sean, my assistant, will cover for me. Have you thought about going on a ski trip as I suggested?”
Taken aback by his abrupt change of subject, she hesitated. “I have but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” She caught his frown out of the corner of her eye and knew he wouldn’t let the matter drop.
“Are you afraid of what might happen between us, Char?”
She turned her head and stared at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she said more sharply than she intended. Regretting it, she dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you. It’s not your fault I’m so afraid of something that other people take for granted.”
“But you don’t need to be afraid. I swear I’d never do anything you don’t want. I hope you believe me.”
Locking her hands together in her lap, she carefully examined his words and her feelings. If they went away for the weekend, she knew he’d want to make love to her. Yes, she believed he wouldn’t force her, and the truth was she wanted to know what it felt like to lie in a man’s arms and let him sweep her away. Not just any man, this man. She knew very well doing so could end up a disaster but … .
She met his earnest gaze. “Alright, I’ll ask Sally if she can stay with Marilee this weekend.” Her voice shook but she managed a wobbly smile.
He reached over to gently clasp her hands. “Thank you, angel. I promise you won’t regret your decision.”
When they arrived at the estate close to ninety minutes later, Char kept her word, asking Sally if she was free to care for Marilee over the coming weekend, beginning Friday afternoon at Tristan’s suggestion. He wanted to arrive at the resort that evening so they’d have all day Saturday to ski and enjoy themselves.
The nurse studied her and Tristan for a moment. Then her cherubic face broke into a wide smile. “I’d be more than happy to stay with her, dear.”
Char released the breath she’d been holding. “I really appreciate it, Sally.” They discussed what time the woman needed to arrived on Friday and a few other details. Then Char saw her off as usual. Since Marilee was already in bed, she was left alone once again with Tristan.
He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her against him. His lips settled on hers and she willingly open her mouth to his exploring tongue. She felt what he was feeling and it definitely wasn’t painful. On the contrary, he set her on fire with a longing she’d only imagined. Her arms slid up to encircle his neck. She pressed even closer to him, wanting more. His lips traveled over her face and along her jaw. When he nuzzled the tender spot beneath her ear, she shivered and cried out softly.
Too soon, he stepped back and held her at bay, breathing as hard as she was. She experienced a new kind of pain. Her body pulsed with need. She yearned for him to pull her against him and smother her with kisses again. Instead, he released her.
“I’ll see you on Friday,” he said hoarsely. Then he turned and walked out, leaving her in state of frustration, wishing for Friday’s quick arrival.
*
Friday afternoon, Lara Flewellen, the High Guardian of Danu, and her bodyguard-lover Connor O’Shea were flying to New York. Seated by a window on the crowded plane, Lara gazed out at fluffy white clouds and a patchwork of brownish green or snow-covered land far below. The struggle ahead occupied her thoughts. First, she had to convince Charlotte Dixon to return with her and Conn to their Arizona stronghold. Then she and the Guardians who had already joined her needed to find a way to contact the others and gather them all together.
They must present a united front in order to defeat their enemies the Hellhounds, she was thinking when a ghostly presence flitted across her mind. She jumped and caught her breath at the eerily familiar touch. Suddenly ice cold, she clutched Conn’s arm. Closing the magazine he’d been reading, he turned to her, concern in his steel-gray eyes.
“What’s wrong, darlin’? You’re white as a sheet.”
She swallowed hard. “I think I felt Sara’s mind touch.”
His dark eyebrows shot up. “Your sister? But you haven’t been able to contact her in months. You believe she’s dead, don’t you?”
“I thought so. She must be. Every time I’ve reached out to her, all I felt was a black, empty void.”
Trapping her cold hands between his warmer ones, Conn said, “I know you mourn for her and you blame yourself for her loss. Is it possible you imagined feeling her touch because you wanted to?”
She bit her lip and looked away. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
He caught her chin and turned her face toward him. “Let it go, sweetheart. Don’t drive yourself crazy.” Bending close, he kissed her lightly.
Lara appreciated his attempt to comfort her, but as he resumed reading, she silently replayed how she’d run away after the Hellhounds abducted her sister. There was nothing she could have done to save Sara, short of handing over the ruling scroll to the evil ones, and she couldn’t do that. Uncle Malcolm’s death had catapulted her into the position of High Guardian. It was her sworn duty to guard the scroll in her keeping and preserve the Comhairle, the Council of Guardians, at all cost. Even so, she still lived with guilt over Sara’s probable death.
She tried to dismiss the momentary sensation that her sister was back and reaching out to her, but the ghostly phenomenon haunted her for the rest of their flight.
CHAPTER SIX
Evening shadows painted the resort in shades of gray as Tristan pulled into a parking space outside the Kaatskill Mountain Club. “Hunter Mountain is the best ski resort in the Catskills, and I prefer this slopeside complex over their base lodge,” he said. “I hope you like the place.”
“I’m sure I will,” Char replied in a small voice. She’d been quiet for most of the drive up here, no doubt nervous about the night to come.
“Wait ʼtil you see the inside.” Hoping she’d feel more at ease when she saw their sleeping arrangements, he opened his door. “I’ll grab our bags.”
“I can carry my own,” she said, climbing out of the car a second after he did.
Quirking his lips at her show of independence, he snatched her small tote bag, presumably filled with cosmetics and other feminine articles, from the back of the car. He handed it to her. “You can carry that. I’ll bring the rest. A guy has to prove he’d macho once in a while.” He winked at her.
She cracked a tentative smile, nodded and accepted the tote. He grabbed their duffle bags and they proceeded into the lodge to check in. Meeting Char’s surprised gaze when she realized he’d booked a two bedroom suite, he smiled reassuringly.
“Each bedroom has its own bathroom,” the young woman at the reception desk helpfully explained, “and both bedrooms lock, uh, from the inside.”
Nodding, Tristan ignored the woman’s curious glance. Retrieving their bags from the floor at his feet, he crossed with Char to an elevator. Once inside, he said, “I know you’re uncomfortable about … things. So I’m leaving what happens or doesn’t happen between us up to you. Although, I might steal a kiss now and then,” he teased with a another wink.
She laughed in obvious relief, brilliant blue eyes twinkling. “I don’t think I’ll mind that too much.”
Glad to see her mood brighten, he walked her to their suite, ushered her inside and carried her duffle bag to the master
bedroom, setting it on a luggage rack. She followed him, placed her tote bag on a chair and glanced around.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take this room?” she asked, eyeing the king-size bed.
“Un-uh. The other one is fine. If you need anything, just call the desk.”
“I will.” She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets, eyes darting here and there, avoiding his gaze, showing she was a tad nervous again.
“Okay, I’ll drop this off in my room.” He indicated his bag. “Then I’ll be in the living room. We should go down and eat soon before the restaurant closes.”
Nodding, she tucked an auburn lock behind her ear and stood waiting for him to leave. Stepping into the hallway, he shut the door behind him and heard her bolt the lock as he crossed to the other bedroom.
Frowning, he wondered if he’d made a mistake when he booked their reservation. His pent up desire for her had urged him to request a one-bedroom suite, but he hadn’t wanted to scare her off. Letting her come to his bed – or inviting him to hers – seemed wiser. But they only had two nights here. Was that enough time for him to overcome her fears? He longed to show her what pleasure he could give her, but first she must trust him fully.
*
As soon as they returned to their suite after eating, Char bid Tristan good night, claiming she wanted to get a good night’s sleep before hitting the slopes. True to his word, he didn’t try to seduce her, merely kissing her cheek and saying he’d see her in the morning. Grateful for his understanding, although secretly longing for him to really kiss her, she locked herself in her room. Perhaps she was behaving like a frightened virgin, but in fact that’s what she was. She needed time to conquer her fears and saw no sense in tempting fate – or Tristan.
She took a shower and turned in, feeling lost in the huge bed. She was tired but sleep eluded her. When she finally dozed off, she jerked awake after a short time, feeling disoriented in her strange surroundings. The process repeated itself until the gray light of dawn filtered through her bedroom window. She thought of getting up but her groggy brain failed to convince her body to move. Then sleep overtook her again.
A knock on the door woke her. “Char, you awake?” Tristan called out.
Her eyes popped open and she sat up abruptly. “I am now,” she croaked. Blinking against bright daylight filtering through the window curtains, she cleared her throat and added, “I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
“Take your time. Coffee’s brewing when you’re ready.”
“Alright. Thank you.” Rising, she padded into the bathroom, used the toilet and washed up. She brushed her hair and dressed in a powder blue, silky long-sleeved tee and matching stretch pants. Later, she’d add a warm fleece layer topped off by her ski pants and jacket, which she’d brought along when moving to New York on the off chance she might need them. When she stepped from her room the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee greeted her.
Walking to the compact kitchen adjacent to the rustically appointed living room, she found Tristan seated at a round table. He set down his coffee mug and rose, smiling in welcome while his gaze touched her from head to toe, taking in her form fitting garments. He was dressed similarly in a black turtleneck and pants.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully. Too cheerfully after the night she’d had.
“Morning.” She forced a halfhearted smile.
Grinning, he pointed to the kitchen counter. “Coffee’s over there. I set out a mug for you,” he said, resuming his seat.
“Thanks.” She filled the mug and sipped the hot liquid. Closing her eyes, she sighed in appreciation. “Mmm, that’s good.”
Tristan chuckled. “Caffeine’s your drug of choice, eh?”
“Definitely.” She swallowed another mouthful and plopped into a chair across from him.
“Sorry for waking you, but I thought I’d better. We need to grab breakfast and gear up if we want to have much time on the mountain.”
She nodded. “You were right to wake me. I meant to get up earlier, but I … I had kind of a restless night.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe some fresh air and exercise will help you sleep better tonight.”
Studying him over her mug, she wondered if skiing was the only kind of exercise he had in mind. Somehow, she doubted it. She chugged down the rest of her coffee and, since there were no breakfast makings on hand, they headed downstairs to eat. Afterward, they donned their ski clothes, purchased lift tickets and rented skis, boots and poles. The sun reflected brightly on the snow-covered mountain when they swung onto the lift.
At Tristan’s insistence, they tried one of the easiest slopes first to give Char a chance to get used to the feel of downhill skiing after several years away from the sport. The “bunny trail” was a snap, so they progressed to an intermediate slope. Everything went fine until they encountered a rather sharp curve Char wasn’t prepared for. Losing her balance, she yelped and tumbled sideways, landing in an ungraceful tangle of arms, legs and skis.
“You okay?” Tristan shouted, skiing to a halt a short distance below her.
“I’m fine, just clumsy,” she said in disgust. As she straightened out her skis, he trudged back up to her. She attempted to push herself up without success.
“Here, grab my hand. I’ll help you up,” he said.
Feeling like a total klutz, she accepted his hand. Once on her feet, she dusted snow from her pant legs. When Tristan swatted her backside, she jumped, nearly falling over again. He grabbed her arm to steady her.
“Easy there,” he said laughingly. “I was only trying to help.”
“Is that what you call it?” Suddenly lighthearted, she joined in his laughter. Positioning her ski poles, she shoved off, calling, “See you at the bottom.”
“I’ll be waiting there for you,” he hollered. Seconds later, he whooshed past her, throwing her an impudent grin.
She admired his smooth, powerful form as he flew down the mountain. He easily beat her to the base. Standing there, nonchalantly leaning on one ski pole, he wore a self-satisfied smirk when she reached him.
“Okay, you’re much better … at this than me,” she conceded breathlessly.
“Hey, after how you showed me up at skating, I had to recover my manly pride.”
“Ha, ha.” She gave a mock-sour frown. “I need a break before we try that again.”
Releasing their ski bindings, they went to get a cup of hot chocolate and rest for a while. Then they rode the lift back to the top of the same run. This time, Char made it all the way down without mishap. Exhilarated by her success, she said, “I want to try a more difficult run.”
Tristan gave her a skeptical look. “Are you sure? I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I’m sure. Come on. I’ve got my ski legs now.” She set off for the ticket office carrying her skis, determined to challenge herself on a steeper route. She wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity to ski.”
“Hold on.” Catching up, he gripped her arm, drawing her to a halt. “We are not risking our necks on a trail designed for expert skiers.”
“Relax,” she retorted with a sassy grin. “I’m not that crazy. I plan to ask advice from one of the pros at the shop.”
He frowned but released her arm. “Alright, fine.”
The ski pro they spoke to pointed them to a moderately difficult course. Taking a lift to the top, they checked their ski bindings to make sure they were secure then waited their turn to begin the run. Tristan looked at Char, mouth set in a worried line.
“Over confidence can get you killed,” he said. “Don’t try any showboating.”
“I won’t, promise.” She swallowed hard, not feeling quite so brave now. Her stomach fluttered when their turn came.
“You go first. I’ll stay behind you in case you, uh, need some help.”
“Right.” In case she fell and broke every bone in her body, he meant. Adjusting her gloves and dark goggles, she bent low and pushed off with her poles. The initial drop w
as steep and fast but smooth. She had no trouble until about a third of the way down when she encountered a series of bumps the pro had warned them to expect. She had all she could do to wind over and around the snow covered obstacles without falling head over tea kettle. Her heart raced and her mouth went dry, but she hung on, determined to prove to herself and Tristan that she could do this.
Somehow, she made it down, skidding to a sideways halt at the bottom of the run. Breathing hard, she grinned at Tristan as he slowed to a stop beside her. She felt like an Olympian who’d just won a gold medal. “See, I told you I could do it,” she boasted, pushing her goggles up over her cap.
He snorted. “Yeah you did, but I saw you wobble on the obstacles. I thought sure you’d go summersaulting down the slope.”
She pursed her lips and poked him in the chest. “Hey, mister, give me credit for recovering and staying on my skis.”
Laughing, he chucked her under the chin. “I was teasing, honey. You did great. So, do you want to have another go at the mountain?”
She glanced at the peak, sighed and shook her head. “I think I’ve had enough for one day. What I’d like now is something to eat.”
“Sounds good to me. It’s been a long time since breakfast.”
They turned in their ski equipment and proceeded to the restaurant. Once they’d ordered a hearty lunch – more like dinner since the sun was well into the west – they sat back to wait for their meal.
“Did your mother teach you to ski as well as skate?” Tristan asked.
“She sure did.” Char smiled tenderly. “It was just the two of us after my father took off. We did everything together.”
“Did you ever go skiing with other kids?”
She studied her loosely folded hands on the table. “I did once, on a senior class trip. I didn’t want to go but Mama thought it would be good for me to do something with other young people.” She shook her head, making a sour face. “The trip was a disaster from beginning to end. None of my classmates wanted anything to do with me, which was nothing new. They all thought I was a weirdo.” She sighed heavily. “So, aside from a couple ski runs, I hid away in my bunk. And cried when nobody was around.”