Stitch in Snow

'Feel rested?'

'I can't move. Go away.'

'Is that gratitude for my solicitous guardianship?'

'Oh, have the natives been restless? Are we under attack from palefaces?'

'None,' and laughter rippled in his voice, 'these past four hours or more.'

Lord, I'd never get to sleep tonight. 'What time is it?'

'Exactly…' I could feel him moving as he consulted his watch, 'ten twenty-two, to the sound of the tone.' And he hummed.

'Jaysus.' I moved, but not very far: the blanket was strangling me. 'What did you put on me? A strait jacket?' I punched at the restraint.

He helped me and as he loosened the blanket, looked me full in the face. I averted my head.

'What's the matter?'

'Nothing…' I said it sharply because my vanity was bruised and it was all very stupid of me and I knew it.

'What is the matter. Jenny?' And damn him, he got his hand on my chin and jerked my face around, his eyes searching mine.

And like a stupid fool I wanted to cry. The stupidity being why did it matter how he saw me. But it did. There's that much of the romantic still left in me. Or was I fooling myself about that, too, and all I had left was my precious idiotic vanity?

'Your face is all creased,' he said, 'like a sleepy child's.' There was no distaste in his voice and he rubbed at my left cheek as if to iron it smooth. There was also no flattery in his observation. He couldn't have picked a neater way to devastate me. Which is why, when he bent to brush lips with me, the way one does a sleepy child, the contact was charged.

'My God,' he said, staring down at me with amazement and then he kissed me again, in no way how one kisses a sleepy child. His moustache was soft against my lips but a couple of the bristles pricked my nose so that I squirmed to get in a more comfortable position. His arms clamped down on me as if he thought I was trying to evade him and his kiss became more determined.

I couldn't recall a single kiss so emotionally charged and I cooperated wholeheartedly. Which seemed to encourage his efforts. And he knew how, hands and lips, and the pressure of his body against mine.

I could have cried out in protest when he drew away. He gave me a little shake and my eyes opened involuntarily. His face was so close that I couldn't distinguish his features, only the blur of the moustache, the darkness of his eyes, the silver of his hair outlined against the bedside light.

'Shall we, Jenny?' he asked softly.

I'd been of half a mind to try and laugh off that kiss, a major feat, but 'shall we' defeated my intention.

'Yes, please!'

He laughed, low, and if it was not a smug laugh, it had a very self-satisfied ring to it. He began to kiss and caress me again in the most leisurely, expert fashion.

'I'm trapped in the damned blanket,' I said, getting my mouth free.

He chuckled. 'I know. I'll free you in my own good time.'

Which he did. And freed me of some other things, too. Like my dignity, my vanity, and a few unnecessary inhibitions. By the time he had finished with me - no, by the time we had satisfied each other - because this was, above all else, a mutual effort, we both drifted off to sleep, completely relaxed.

I must have turned so that the bedside light was shining in my eyes for light woke me. I lay there, Dan's head buried on my shoulder, several other appendages draped heavily on my right side. I moved and his hand gripped me possessively as he muttered in his sleep against my shoulder. I was hungry: I needed to go to the bathroom and the light would prevent me from going back to sleep but I couldn't reach the switch with him all over me. I didn't really want to move because it was so incredibly good to be sleeping next to a man - particularly one who did not snore. I tried to reason with my body. My stomach growled and the pressure on my bladder was something I couldn't ignore much longer in comfort.

I eased myself free of his legs, gently removed his arm and by depressing my shoulder into the pillow, managed to winkle out from under his head. I was sliding from the bed when his hand caught my arm.

'Don't go.'

'I'd better or I will.'

'Oh,' was his sleepy groan and he flopped over.

I sped to the bathroom. Then I looked at my face which wasn't sleep-creased but very smug. I washed it in cold water to make it behave, brushed on new brows, rinsed my mouth.

'Hey, don't hog the place,' he called cheerfully.

Hmm. Yes. My robe was on the door and, let's face it, at my age, things begin to sag a bit. I didn't want the magic to go because the frog-princess still looked like a frog when the kissing stopped.

Sometimes when you meet your partner after sex, there's a bit of strain. He passed me on the way to the bathroom with a broad grin on his face and a quick caress.

'Help yourself to the sandwiches but don't eat 'em all,' he said just as I spotted the room service table by the window.

When had that materialised? Well, if there were to be frog princesses, there could also be djinns in the middle of storm-bound Denver.

The covered dishes exposed enough sandwiches for four - roast beef and turkey, a tasteful array of salad greens with dressing on the side, butter and rolls, two generous portions of lemon meringue pie and coffee, still reasonably steamy in its vacuum container.

I was eating with relish and speed when he joined me, dressed in shirt and trousers. Some men look sexier with an open shirt exposing their masculinely hairy chests and he was one of them.

'When did you conjure all this?' I asked with my mouth full.

'When you corked off the first time.'

'Good thinking! And thanks!' I glanced at my watch. 'One thirty? Whee. Very good thinking.'

'Plan ahead!' He was grinning broadly and the sparkle in his eyes was infuriating.

'Plan ahead, huh?' and I waved at the rumpled bed.

'Well,' and he scratched the back of his head,' it did occur to me last night…'

'Ergo, all the brandy?'

'Well?' And his eyes mocked me with laughter. 'Should I have pushed my luck?'

It was a challenge and, because I have always prided myself on a disastrous honesty, I didn't hesitate. 'You could have. But I'm glad you didn't.' His hand, warm and strong, covered mine and his eyes were kinder less wary. 'This…'and I inclined my head towards the bed'… turned out rather…'

'Rather special. Thank you. Jenny.'

We were both a trifle embarrassed by such mutual honesty and began to eat.

'I don't remember when I've been so ravenous,' I said, tossing the napkin to the disarrayed table. We'd cleared it of all edibles.

'It's been a long time since your breakfast steak,' he reminded me with a mildly lecherous arching of his eyebrows.

'That's very true.'

A sudden rattle against the curtained windows drew me to rise and look out. I shivered, staring at the stormy night.

' I said it once too often.'

'Said what?' he asked, standing behind me and parting the curtain farther.

'I said I wanted to see snow while I was in the States.'

Puzzled, he looked down at me. 'Aren't you American?'

'Yes, but I live in Ireland.'

'Why?' He was genuinely surprised.

'Tax exemption.'

'Oh, yes, you did mention you're a writer.' The wind dashed a slurry against the window and instinctively I yielded back. He caught my shoulders because I also stepped on his toes.

'Sorry.'

'Not a fit night for man, beast or machine.'

'Will it blow itself out by tomorrow?' I asked, sort of hoping it couldn't although perhaps it would be better if we were released from the snow thrall.

'I doubt it.' He preferred that it continue. He wrapped both arms around me and pressed me back against him, kissing the side of my neck, just where I happen to be very sensitive. 'This is a real three-day howler.'

'How can you be sure?'

'I grew up in Colorado. I know that note in the wind.'