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Dieter’s family owned a chalet there.
Dieter Schwarz had said so many times that he was just a Swiss soldier and mercenary that she had believed him.
But he’d always had an upper-crust accent to his Alemannic and French-accentedSwiss German, though she could hear the army barracks in there, too.
He was a study in contradictions, but that one word,Klosters,spoke volumes.
Flicka resolved to listen more closely to every word Dieter said.
His fingers were wrapped around her hand, and somehow, his arm had wedged itself around her shoulders.
Her body molded against his under the blankets.
She’d been so distracted thatshe hadn’t noticed his incursions, and she wasn’t shaking.
Dieter kissed her forehead. “Sleep now.”
