Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

Barbara Havers shivered where she stood outside the old building, the years of culture and great standing starkly apparent.

"Cold?" asked Thomas Lynley with a wide grin on his face as he stepped outside, well warmed in his padded jacket.

She turned to glare at him.

"I didn't know what to pack." Her annoyance was belied by her chattering teeth. "Us poorer plebs did not have the luxury of skiing holidays growing up," she muttered. "Unlike some."

She knew he was grinning as he stepped toward her and drew her into his arms. "Don't be patronising," she warned, even as she readily accepted the warmth on offer.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lynley replied as he wrapped his arms around her, twining his fingers in hers.

Make of it what you will.