I'm an idiot. I do my best to blame him as I stop once again and look about me for any hint of a landmark.

It's difficult to control the growing sense of panic as I stand shivering in the thick fog. I had started my descent from the mountain top with the weather closing in and within minutes I can see no further than five or six feet in front of me. The dampness in the air clings to my skin, my clothes get colder, making me shiver uncontrollably as I pick up the pace, half jogging, half stumbling down, squinting in the gloom to try and see anything I recognise.

I stop dead as I realise I'm hopelessly lost. I try to think. When was the last time I saw something I recognised? It was at least ten minutes ago. I try to head back up the way I came, hoping to find the trail again. Instead I climb for only a minute before I'm descending once again. This isn't right.

There's a shrub to my left, then a pile of stones with the remains of a sheep next to them, a few flecks of wool and a yellowing skeleton. Is that what will happen to me?

Don't panic, I tell myself as I yawn loudly. I feel tired all of a sudden. I want to rest. Just a little rest. Just for a minute.

I sit on a rock and shout, "Help!" at the top of my voice.

The sound is deadened by the fog. There is no response.

I used to know this mountain so well. But then I was with my mother. She led the way, I just followed. And we never went up in thick fog.

I curse Jack. Somehow this is his fault. If he hadn't warned me about the weather, I'd not have been so stubborn as to ignore the warning signs of the clouds rolling in. It's his fault.

Somewhere down in the valley, he was probably still chainsawing. I listen carefully. Nothing but the wind. He'll be somewhere warm and safe, unlike me.

I'm shivering so hard, it hurts my head. I can't keep still as I yawn again.

I grew up around here. Am I going to die here? Don't be silly. You're over reacting. I try to reassure myself but instead I just feel heavier, in mind and in body.

I walk a little further, my legs are made of stone, refusing to shift more than a couple of inches, lead weights in my shoes. Goosebumps coat every inch of exposed skin and I can no longer feel my fingers.

My eyes are heavy. I need to rest again. Just for a minute. I sit, then slump to the ground, no longer feeling the damp through my skirt.

I hug my hands around my knees and then lean against the rock beside me. My eyes close. Everything stops.

I wake up with a jolt, blinking as I try to work out what's going on. I'm inside something. There's someone next to me. They're saying something. I fall asleep again.

I wake up to the feel of a pair of hands tugging at my top. I slap the hands away and sit bolt upright. I can't focus, the image in blurry. I blink and look closer. It's Jack. He reaches for my top once more and I slap his hands away. "Get off me," I cry, my words slurred.

"That's fine," he replied. "You're real smart. I'll just wait until you pass out again and then get your wet things off you, shall I?"

"What?" I mumble, my eyes already closing.

"Stay with me," he says, putting his arms around my shoulders, pulling me towards him. I can feel his heat. It's like a radiator pressed against me and I lean on it like a cat. I want to purr. It feels so good.

"Come on," he says, shaking me slightly. "We need to get those wet things off you."

"You can't," I say, not wanting to move, not wanting to do anything.

"You're dangerously cold," he says and for the first time I hear the whir of heating. I'm in a car. I'm in his car. How did that happen? I feel a coat being pulled from my shoulders and I pout as cold hits me again, the shivering returning.

"Arms out," he says and I obey meekly, too tired to complain any longer. He tugs my top off, tossing it aside before wrapping the coat back around my shoulders. "Skirt too," he says. "Lift your hips a little."

I feel metal against me and look. It's the tip of his chainsaw poking through from the back space behind the seats. I look at it and wonder if he's going to kill me. For some reason the thought makes me giggle. I feel my skirt being tugged off and it takes me a second to realise he's taking my panties with it. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"You're freezing," he replies, pulling me towards him again. "Don't move, let me warm you."

He rubs my legs vigorously and they tingle as they start to come back to life. I look at him but he's busy looking down, a picture of concentration.

"I'm sorry," he says and I frown.

"What for?"

"For letting you go up the mountain in that. I should have stopped you."

"That's not your f...f...fault," I stutter as I start to shiver again. He draws me closer to him. "How did you find me anyway?"

"I got to the summit and you weren't there. I thought you'd maybe got past me in the fog and were already back down but then I heard you shout. You'd wandered off towards the moor. If you hadn't have shouted..." His voice faltered before he continued. "Anyway, by the time I found you, your lips were blue and you were out cold. I got my coat round you and carried you back down here."

"You carried me all the way down?"

"Only to my car. I'd have called the air ambulance for you but they'd never have found you in the fog. How are you feeling?"

"Better," I mutter, snuggling in to him. I look down and realise his hand is still resting on my thigh. It feels warm and comforting. It shouldn't feel like that, not with me naked but for a coat, trapped in a strange car with a strange man.

But he doesn't feel like a stranger. "Are you still cold?" he asks, his other hand on my cheek, feeling my skin. "You feel cold."

"I'm warming up," I reply, looking into his eyes. I hadn't noticed how deep blue his eyes are.

"Here," he says, taking off his coat and putting it on top of me, doubling up my layers. "This'll help."

With his coat off I can see him better. Moving my fingers, I can feel his bicep. It feels big. Very big. He looks down at me and I snuggle closer to him. Even though I'm getting too hot in the pair of coats, I don't say so, I don't want to have to move away from him. It's been a long time since I've felt a man's warmth against me.

"What made you go up there on a day like this?" he asks. "The forecast said it would turn."

"I was calling in on my way somewhere."

"Just thought you'd climb a mountain on the way?"

"It was to remember my mum. We used to climb up here together when I was little."

"Oh, is she not..."

"She died," I finish the sentence for him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

I shrug. "It's all right. I thought I'd remember her by climbing it for one last time. I can't even get that right."

"Where were you headed?"

"Puddleston, do you know it?"

"It's where I live."

"Really, whereabouts?"

"The far end, by the pond."

"Oh wow. I grew up at Rose Cottage, just down from there."

"Small world."

"Small world," I echo back.

"I thought you were just another idiot tourist from the city."

"And now?"

"Well, now you're a local."

"Have I gone up in your estimation?"

"You were already pretty high. Then you got naked."

"Did that send me up or down?" Am I flirting? I think I'm flirting. Do I even remember how?

"Oh, all the way to the top of the mountain."

Flirting won't do me any harm. It's not like he's going to do anything to me. I'm a shivering wreck with my hair glued to my forehead. I bet I look a mess.

I blink slowly, biting my bottom lip and telling myself it's to see if its coming back to life.

"You look cute when you do that," he says.

I keep doing it, blinking up at him, only too aware of his hand still on my thigh. It's a strong hand, it could do so many good things to me.

I want him to. I want to forget about everything and just let him. "I'm still cold," I say, opening the coat a little and pressing my chest to his, my nipples already hardening. I catch him glancing down.

"I can think of a way to warm you up," he says, his hand moving up my thigh.

"Oh, can you?" I say, looking up, his face an inch from mine. "And what might that be?"

"This," he says, his lips pressing against mine.