Read A Lesson in the Storm: Season of Desire: Part 1 (Seasons Quartet) for Free Online Page B

always been that easy for you, and you’re young. But this… this is really taking the piss.’ He’s on his feet, then in one stride he’s next to me, bending down, his lips set. Then he says in an ominously quiet voice, ‘Listen, honey. You don’t have to take anything from me. You don’t have to drink water, eat food, or sleep in a sleeping bag. You can walk out of here, if that’s what you want. It’ll be suicide, but that’s up to you. I’ve done my best for you but I can’t force you to accept it. I’m going to tend to this fire, make some dinner and then think about what to do when this storm is over. You’re welcome to join me.’
      I stare back at him, furious. ‘If you carry on talking to me like that,’ I say in as menacing a voice as I can muster, ‘I’m going to fire you.’
      He raises his eyebrows and, despite himself, laughs. ‘What?’
      ‘You heard me. I’ll fire you. Right here.’
      ‘Oh, okay.’ He nods as though he’s in agreement with me. ‘Yeah, sure. You fire me, and I’ll just head off into the night, and leave you here. Then you can get on with the important business of being a spoilt little girl in peace.’
      ‘I’m your boss!’ I yell. I feel powerless. I want to exert some control in this situation. ‘If my father isn’t here, then you take orders from me. Do you understand?’
      ‘Right,’ he says, his deep voice half sarcastic, half amused. ‘You’re the captain, are you? All right, then. What are your orders? And please don’t ask for chilled champagne, I’m not sure I can stretch to that right now.’
      I cast about for something I can make him do, something to impose my authority. He needs to know that I’m in charge. My family pays his wages. He’s standing up, and I don’t like the way he’s looming over me like some kind of parent over a crouching child. Then it comes to me. I lift my chin up high and say loftily, ‘Fetch my scarf.’
      He frowns, his blue eyes puzzled. I notice that there’s a dark shadow of stubble over his jaw. ‘What?’
      ‘I’m cold and I want my scarf. I’ll need it as a pillow if nothing else. I can hardly put my head down on bare boards.’ I wave a hand at the plank bed I’m sitting on. ‘I want my cashmere scarf.’
      ‘Well, where the hell is it?’
      ‘I left it in the snow as a signal. You remember where you left me when you found this place? It’s there.’
      He stares at me in silence and then says at last, ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? It’s snowing out there. It’s getting dark. The scarf will be buried by now. And even if it isn’t, it’s a crazy risk to take.’
      ‘I want it,’ I say obstinately. For some reason, it’s become a matter of great importance to me that he does what I say. I’m the boss. He needs to understand that.
      ‘It’s a crazy stupid bloody risk,’ he says softly. ‘I’d be mad to do it. The thing will be sopping wet now anyway.’
      I jump to my feet, and shout, ‘Do as I say, dammit!’ Then I crunch over in agony as my chest feels like it’s being squeezed by a huge and relentless hand.
      He has me by the arm in a moment, holding me so I don’t fall. ‘Are you okay? Where does it hurt?’
      I manage to get the words out despite the pain. ‘My… my chest.’ He puts his arm round me to support me, while I pull my own arms close to my chest, trying to relieve the pain. I look up into his eyes beseechingly. My rage has vanished in a fresh wave of fear. ‘Do you think I’m dying?’
      The fact that he doesn’t answer at once makes me even more afraid. Then he says in a grave voice, ‘It’s possible that you could have a cracked rib.’
      ‘That’s what I thought,’ I say through short, shallow, panting breaths. ‘Do you think I’ve punctured a lung?’
      ‘I don’t know. I’ll need to look at you.’
      ‘What do you mean?’
      ‘You’ll have to let me examine where it hurts. I’ve had some basic