hard, aroused skin. “But who, I wonder, will protect you from me ?” “No one. So I sincerely hope, my love.” Ian whispered her name as he kissed a hungry path along her shoulder. Their two bodies met, restless and hungry, matched in ardor and in trust. Fabric rustled. Skin met aching skin, golden in the firelight. Around them the air seemed to still. A single snowflake drifted down over the quiet house. Neither of them noticed the sound of soft laughter. And then the faint, lingering perfume of roses….