‘My God, it’s beautiful.’ I walked over to him and put my arms around his neck. ‘You are so talented.’

He searched my face, his body rigid against mine. I pressed my lips against his, hoping to kiss away the tension from the argument he’d had with his brother. He hesitated at first, then he kissed me back, hard and urgent, squeezing me against him. I swept my hand over the outline of his chest, standing on tiptoes to kiss his neck. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he looked at me. Then he pressed his lips against mine again. I responded, hungry for the feel of him inside me again and for some reassurance that it wasn’t me who’d caused his strange mood.

We quickly undressed each other and burrowed beneath the fur throws for warmth as we explored each other’s bodies. As we made love, Dylan looked into my eyes. But they didn’t sparkle with a mixture of mischief and desire like they had the night before. Instead, he looked troubled as he explored my face. When he came, he closed his eyes, looking almost pained. I wanted to ask him again what was wrong but didn’t want to appear needy. So instead I wrapped my arms around him and rested my cheek against his large back. I wasn’t used to the details of relationships, the intricate dance that I heard other people went through. I wasn’t quite sure how to play it when someone was quite obviously brooding. Everything so far for me had been so casual. I simply hadn’t cared enough.

But I did care for Dylan.

He turned towards me, eyes exploring my face. ‘So what’s next for you?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. What’s next for you?’ I countered, my eyes teasing.

But he didn’t smile back. ‘Seriously. Do you have another shoot lined up?’

‘There are always shoots. But I’ve been thinking I wouldn’t mind a break from it all. Maybe even a year.’ I peered out of a window towards the icy landscape of the farm and the snow-fringed trees in the distance. ‘In fact, I’ve taken a bit of a liking to Iceland.’

‘A year out? Won’t that harm your career?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s time for a change.’

He sat up, staring into the distance, face sombre. ‘That’s crazy, Gwyneth. You know you love making documentaries.’

‘I do. I just want to slow down a bit, you know? I’ve been doing it for so many years now.’ I kissed his back. ‘And I’m hoping I have an incentive to slow it down a bit.’

He looked down at me. ‘Is that incentive me?’

‘Partly.’

‘Because if it is about me, about us,’ he said, his eyes unreadable, ‘then that’s just silly.’