And he had enjoyed holding her. A surprising discovery for someone who had never shared a bed with a woman without having sex with her. Yet the chasteness of their situation had inspired a fierce sense of protectiveness in him. Some primitive instinct had kept him alert and watchful, knowing he needed to keep her safe. He had lain awake for countless minutes, listening to the steady beat of his heart and thinking that here, in this bare, bleak room, life had suddenly acquired a fundamental simplicity. If you discounted the immediate and present danger, it provided a strange kind of comfort to realise that the stresses of the modern world had receded—and one in particular.
The unsettling discovery about his birth had been digging insistently at the back of his mind ever since Corso had turned up in New York last year, and he’d been confronted with the reality that he had a brother, of sorts. Not just any brother, but one who was now a king. It had troubled him on many levels, not least because essentially Xanthos was a loner. A very private man with no desire to endure any of the problems brought about by families.
But in this bleak mountain hideaway he had discovered a curious kind of peace. It was almost as if he had been given a clean slate to start over. With his arm around Bianca’s waist, he had watched the snow clouds clear to reveal an indigo sky, pricked with the diamond glitter of stars. As a cold, pale dawn had illuminated the stone floor and the sheen of her ebony hair, he had wondered what the day had in store for them. And instead of dread he had felt nothing but expectation, and acceptance.
He could hear the sound of running water next door as he got out of bed and busied himself with making a new fire, so that by the time Bianca walked back in, the temperature of the room had lost some of its icy edge. Her face was shiny-clean, her hair a glossy bounce. She’d put on a sweater the colour of a sunrise, blue jeans were hugging her hips and Xanthos couldn’t help acknowledging just how...amazingshe looked. Fresh, yet hot. It was yet another unwanted punch to his jangled senses and, cursing the sudden erotic trajectory of his thoughts, he rose to his feet.
‘I’ll use the bathroom,’ he said abruptly. ‘Just keep the fire going.’
‘Of course.’
At least the icy temperature of the water was enough to restore his equilibrium and he washed and dressed as quickly as possible. By the time he returned, Bianca was staring out of the window and she turned round as he entered.
‘I want to talk to you.’
‘So talk.’
Her green eyes were very clear and unblinking. ‘Do you think—?’
He could hear the sudden fear which had entered her voice and she hesitated, looking around at the bare, bleak walls as if she were seeing them for the first time. Her mask of bravado had slipped to reveal the frightened woman beneath and Xanthos felt his heart go out to her. He walked across the room towards her, resisting the desire to pull her into his arms—framing her cheek with the palm of his hand instead.
‘If you’re about to ask me whether I think anyone’s going to find us, the answer is that I don’t know,’ he said softly. ‘But I do know it’s pointless worrying about things we can’t control.’
‘What, so we just sit here andwait?’
‘Not necessarily. We could go outside and walk.’
‘Yeah.’ Her gaze was darting around the tiny dimensions of the room as if it were a prison. ‘I feel as if I’ll go crazy if we have to spend much longer in here.’
‘Come on, then.’
They pulled on extra clothing and she reached for a bobble hat and gloves, before they stepped out into the freezing morning and a very different world from the one which had greeted them the day before.
For a moment Xanthos just drank it in. Gone were the oppressive grey clouds and icy flakes which had swirled so relentlessly from the sky. In the sunlight, the snow was glistening, turning the high bank into a glitter of whiteness. Behind them the peak of the huge mountain soared up into a cloudless blue sky. Even the crashed plane seemed to have lost its ability to shock or terrify. Total silence engulfed them.
‘It’s...beautiful,’ breathed Bianca, at last.
Yes. Very. Just like her. Xanthos felt the sudden beat of his heart as he met her emerald gaze beneath the brim of her grey bobble hat. The most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and, ironically, the last woman he might ever see. He thought about the restraint he’d employed throughout that long night and the effort it had cost him. There had been yet more restraint this morning, when she had brushed her lips over his jaw, and if she hadn’t been asleep he might have kissed her back. It had been a masterclass in self-discipline from which he had derived a certain amount of masochistic pleasure, but now he wondered whether he should have instigated something else.
If he were to die here in this valley—would that be his one regret? That hehadn’thad sex with Bianca Forrester?
‘Come on. Let’s walk,’ he said abruptly. ‘We need to keep moving.’
He was careful not to let them stray too far from the hut and when he noticed her start to shiver, insisted they go back inside, where he stoked up the fire and made more tea while she doled out squares of dark chocolate, which they ate mechanically. Yet as the minutes ticked by, he could feel the tension mounting in that small room and it wasn’t just the unspoken fear that they might never be rescued. Desire shimmered in the air—so real it was almost tangible.
‘Maybe we should try and read to pass the time,’ she said, her prim words shattering his erotic thoughts. ‘Do you have any novels with you, Xanthos?’
‘You go ahead and read,’ he growled. ‘I’m going to take that desk outside and dismantle it for firewood.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that really necessary?’
‘You think I just like breaking up furniture for the hell of it?’ He stared her down. ‘That I’m channelling my inner caveman?’
‘I have no idea.’ She met his gaze with a look of challenge. ‘Are you?’
But despite his words, the action of smashing the desk to pieces was infinitely satisfying and not just because it was so alien to the way he lived in New York. The physical exertion sublimated some of his sexual hunger and his brief exhilaration was compounded when he heard a sound in the distance. At first he wondered if he had imagined it. It seemed too faint to be real, yet in the overwhelming silence of that stark white world it was as deafening as a bolt of thunder. He stood stock-still as it increased in volume and that was when he yelled at the top of his voice. ‘Bianca!’
Dark hair flying, she came running out—her gaze swiftly taking in the approaching vehicle before looking into his face, as if seeking confirmation. And when he nodded, they both looked upwards—towards the steep road which wound down the side of the mountain, where a sturdy-looking vehicle was making slow but steady progress towards them.