‘Yes, I am a bit.’
He stepped down into the back yard and scooped a handful of snow into his gloved hand.
‘Well, I’m sorry, love, but you’re about to get a whole lot colder.’
I gauged his intention just as he packed the snow into a perfect sphere.
‘No way!’ I cried, and tried to get out of his line of fire, but I stood no chance. The snowball hit me square on my shoulder, and chunks of it splintered off and flew through the air.
‘Right,’ I said under my breath, bending to retaliate.
We ducked and dodged around the kitchen garden and beyond, fully engaged in battle. Jasper hit me more than I managed to hit him, but I landed one on the side of his head and another good one on his chest. Before too long, my coat and gloves were freezing wet and heavy, and ice was trickling down the back of my neck.
I wanted to call truce, but it was a matter of pride. And besides, he was getting closer and closer. In no time at all he would be able to take hold of me and claim ultimate victory.
I backed out of the kitchen garden in a panic, but he had me now and I surrendered to the inevitable when he pounced and got my wrist in a tight hold.
‘Ha,’ he cried with a triumphant laugh. ‘Now you’re for it. Think you can pelt snowballs at me and get away with it?’
‘I never thought anything of the kind,’ I said, putting up a fake fight, happy in the knowledge that I would fail. ‘You never let me get away with anything.’
‘No, and nor should I,’ he said. He got me in a tighter hold and spent a few moments in quiet thought, as if calculating his next move. ‘And this is no different. Right. That tree. March.’
I stumbled in front of him over to a trusty old oak with a tangle of low-hanging branches.
He halted me beneath one of the stoutest of these.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Coat off. Hands in the air.’
‘It’s too cold,’ I grumbled, but I shrugged off my long wool coat all the same and lifted my arms.
He was removing a length of rope from one of the pockets of his ski jacket.
‘You came equipped then.’
‘Always.’
He wound the rope around my wrists and tied it fast to the tree branch, holding me in my upright position with arms pulled up taut. My sweater rode up over my navel, baring the lower portion of my stomach. It really was far too cold for this!
‘What are you going to do?’ I whined. ‘I can’t stay like this for long.’
‘I know,’ he said curtly.
He lifted my sweater up over my breasts and left it bunched at my neck.
‘Oh, God,’ I said, realising that he was taking a leaf from Dimitri’s book when he bent again to take a handful of snow.
‘You deserve this,’ he whispered, packing the cups of my bra with the icy slush.
I flailed wildly in my bonds, my teeth chattering. My nipples flared and throbbed then went numb.
‘I can’t feel anything,’ I said.
‘You will, soon enough,’ he promised. ‘Once it’s melted, your nipples will wake up, nice and slowly. Like taking off a clamp, but more extended.’
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. I always dreaded the clamps.
‘In the meantime …’ he said, and he finished the sentence by unbuttoning and pulling my jeans roughly down to the tops of my boots.