Top 5 Destinations for a Romantic Winter Getaway

Some destinations seem purpose-built for this kind of intimacy, where snow drifts against ancient stone walls, fires snap in centuries-old hearths, and the night sky feels close enough to touch. Others flip the script entirely, trading frost for warm, glittering seas, but preserving that same cocooning sense of being just the two of you, far from everyday life. The following five getaways, from the Arctic forests of Finnish Lapland to the glassy lagoons of the Maldives, are invitations to step out of time and into your own shared winter tale.

Snuggle Up in a Finnish Lapland Igloo

In the far north of Finland, where the forests thicken and the sky opens into an enormous dome of polar night, romance takes on a luminous, otherworldly quality. Here, a glass igloo is more than just a clever piece of architecture; it is a front-row seat to the slow, mesmerizing dance of the aurora borealis. As temperatures sink well below freezing and snow absorbs every distant sound, the silence becomes its own kind of luxury, punctuated only by the whisper of wind over the pines and the soft clink of ice in your evening drink.

This is the atmosphere that surrounds a stay at Octola, a secluded, ultra-luxury retreat hidden amid the snowy wilderness of Finnish Lapland. Reached via a private drive that winds through dark, snow-laden spruces, the property feels like a modern-day lodge from a Nordic fairy tale. The house itself is crafted from timber and stone, warmed by flickering fireplaces and candlelight, its interior scented with pine, juniper, and the faint smokiness of logs catching in the hearth. Outside your window, snowflakes drift in slow motion and reindeer tracks stitch patterns across the pure white drifts.

What makes Octola particularly romantic is the sense that everything has been tailored to the two of you. A private chef crafts meals that reflect both Arctic traditions and your personal preferences: think cloudberry-glazed salmon, slow-braised reindeer with juniper berries, and molten chocolate desserts that arrive just as the first ribbons of green start to shimmer across the sky. Dinner might be served at a candlelit table by the window, or out on a terrace warmed by braziers, where you wrap yourselves in thick wool blankets between courses, watching the heavens come alive.

Then there is the outdoor hot tub, perhaps the most indulgent detail of all. Steam rises into the subzero air while the water wraps your skin in enveloping heat. Snow piles high on the surrounding rocks and the tree branches overhead, and the stars appear impossibly sharp. When the aurora does appear, color spills across the sky, shifting from jade to amethyst in slow, sweeping waves. Lean back against the tub’s edge, your partner’s hand in yours, and the entire world seems to contract to this pool of warmth, this wilderness, this shared moment of awe.

By day, winter here is anything but idle. Snowshoeing trails wind off into the forest, each step a soft crunch that echoes in the crystalline air. Follow a guide through the trees, where shafts of light filter through the branches and snow crystals sparkle like scattered diamonds. Cross-country skiing offers another way to explore; the skis skim over carefully set tracks, and soon your breath falls into rhythm with the gliding motion as you move past frozen streams and cabins smoked with frost. There is a childlike joy to the movement, the exhilaration of pink cheeks and numb noses, of returning to the lodge flushed and laughing.

A stay in Finnish Lapland also draws you into Saami and Finnish cultural traditions that have adapted gracefully to this extreme environment. One afternoon might see you bundled under reindeer skins in a sleigh, the soft-nosed animals trotting through the snow as sleigh bells chime faintly. The driver, in traditional dress, guides you through a landscape of open fells and silent forests, occasionally pausing so you can listen to the absolute quiet, broken only by the fidgeting of the reindeer and your own muffled steps in the snow.

Back at the retreat, the sauna ritual becomes a kind of shared meditation. In true Finnish fashion, the wooden sauna is heated until the air shimmers, infused with the clean, resinous scent of birch. You sit side by side on warm wooden benches, feeling the dry heat seep into tired muscles, encouraging even the most stubborn worries to melt away. A ladleful of water onto the hot stones releases a sudden hiss and a wave of steam that prickles the skin. When you can bear the warmth no longer, you step outside into the freezing air or, if you are brave, roll together in a pile of powdery snow, laughing as your skin tingles with the shock. Then it is back into the sauna, and the cycle repeats — heat and cold, intensity and relief — until you emerge renewed, your bodies pleasantly heavy and your minds as clear as the Arctic sky.

Night falls early at this latitude, but the darkness never feels oppressive. Instead, it deepens the glow of lanterns lining a path down to a frozen lake, where a hole might be kept open for the boldest winter tradition of all: ice bathing. Even if you choose to skip the plunge, simply standing together at the edge of the ice, breath curling silver in the moonlight, is unforgettable. In the distance, the faint outline of the forest presses against the sky, and somewhere a dog barks, reminding you that you are still in the wild.

For couples who want to feel simultaneously cocooned and connected to nature, Finnish Lapland offers a romance that is quiet, elemental, and indescribably powerful. It is the kind of place where love speaks less through grand gestures and more through the small kindnesses of shared warmth — a hand extended as you step out of your skis, a second cup of hot chocolate passed across the fire, a silent gasp together as the sky turns green.

Quebec City’s Old-World Charm

On the frozen banks of the St. Lawrence River, Quebec City wears winter like a velvet cloak. Snow frosts the steep-pitched rooftops of stone houses, icicles glitter along centuries-old walls, and warm light spills from mullioned windows onto narrow, cobbled lanes. For couples seeking European charm without crossing the Atlantic, this fortified city offers an irresistible blend of history, romance, and just the right amount of winter whimsy.

At the heart of the city, the Upper Town crowning Old Quebec feels like a storybook come to life. Walk hand in hand along the Dufferin Terrace, the boardwalk that hugs the cliff edge beneath the grand silhouette of Fairmont Le Château Frontenac. From this vantage point, the river below lies half-frozen and still, its surface patched with ice floes that drift lazily past. The air smells of wood smoke, roasted chestnuts, and the occasional waft of maple taffy being pulled on snow at a nearby stall. Sleigh bells jingle as horse-drawn carriages glide over the packed snow, their passengers bundled in thick blankets and scarves.

Time your visit to coincide with the city’s famed winter celebration, the Quebec Winter Carnival, which in 2026 fills the city with revelry from January 22 to February 1. During these days, snow sculptures rise in the squares like temporary cathedrals, illuminated from within by colored lights. The Carnival’s jovial snowman mascot presides over parades, night-time festivities, and outdoor concerts. You and your partner can sip steaming cups of caribou — a sweet, fortified red wine punch — as you wander between ice palaces and skating rinks, your boots crunching on packed snow, laughter drifting on the cold night air.

For a truly immersive winter experience, consider a night at an ice hotel just outside the city. Constructed anew each year from massive blocks of crystal-clear river ice and compacted snow, this ephemeral structure changes with each season’s design. Step inside its sculpted archways and you find corridors that glow with blue-white light, ice chandeliers dripping sparkles overhead, and suites adorned with frozen carvings of animals, forests, or mythical scenes. Your bed is a platform of ice topped with insulating wood, mattresses, and thick furs; you sleep bundled in expedition-grade sleeping bags, your breath clouding faintly in the air, your partner’s presence a steady warmth at your side. By morning, hot chocolate or coffee in a nearby heated pavilion feels like the ultimate luxury.

Back in town, romance often unfolds over lingering meals in cozy bistros tucked along streets like Rue Saint-Louis or Rue Saint-Jean. Slip into a restaurant where stone walls bear centuries of stories, candles flicker on tightly packed tables, and the scent of butter and onions sizzling in a pan hangs invitingly in the air. Traditional French-Canadian dishes — tourtière with its spiced meat filling, rich pea soup, or poutine elevated with local cheeses and braised meats — are made for sharing. Finish with maple sugar pie or a crème brûlée whose caramelized top cracks under the back of your spoon, releasing a plume of vanilla-scented steam.

When you need to walk off dinner, the Plains of Abraham, now part of Battlefields Park, transform in winter into a playground for snow lovers. During the day, the wide-open fields are laced with snowshoe and cross-country ski trails, giving you space to glide or tramp across the snow at your own pace. In the hush that follows a fresh snowfall, the only sounds might be the whisper of skis, the muffled squeak of snow under your boots, and the rhythmic swish of coats brushing together as you walk. From certain points, views open back towards the old city, where the Château Frontenac rises above the ramparts like a turreted sentinel.

One of the city’s sweetest secrets is the experience of exploring Old Quebec by horse-drawn carriage on a snowy evening. As twilight deepens and streetlamps halo the falling snow in soft golden light, climb into a carriage lined with thick blankets and furs. The driver guides you slowly through narrow streets where stone houses press close, their windows glowing with amber light. Without the roar of modern traffic, you can hear the horse’s hooves striking the cobblestones, the sleigh bells chiming gently, and the occasional peal of laughter from a nearby café. Curled up beside your partner beneath the blankets, you feel cradled not just by the carriage, but by the city itself, as it reveals its quiet, nocturnal side.

End the evening in a small wine bar or café, where glass-fronted cabinets display flaky pastries and the clink of glasses punctuates low, murmured conversations. Order a shared fondue or a plate of local cheeses, perhaps with a late-harvest ice cider made from apples left to freeze on the tree. Sipping slowly, warmed by the glow of candlelight and the close-knit intimacy of the room, you might find that outside the window, snow has begun to fall again, erasing footprints and softening edges, readying the city for yet another romantic morning.

St. Moritz: A Fairytale Winter Escape

Nestled high in the Engadin Valley of the Swiss Alps, St. Moritz has long been synonymous with a certain polished brand of winter glamour. The town is wrapped around a half-frozen lake, its surface gleaming under a crystalline sky, with serried peaks rising like an amphitheater of stone and snow around it. Yet beyond its reputation for jet-set sparkle, St. Moritz is also deeply, disarmingly romantic — the kind of place where you might step out for an afternoon stroll and find yourself walking across a sunlit, frozen lake, fingers entwined with your partner’s, surrounded by snow as fine as powdered sugar.

The town’s main street is lined with designer boutiques and gleaming jewelry stores, their windows dressed for winter in displays of diamonds, cashmere, and snowy white decor. Couples drift from one to the next, pausing for espressos in sleek cafés where the scent of deep, dark coffee mingles with that of freshly baked brioche. Around you, languages mingle — Italian, German, English, Swiss-German — and fur-collared coats sweep by on a rustle of luxury. Yet step a few blocks away, and the mood softens into something quieter, with small chapels, cobbled alleys, and wooden chalets that still carry the scent of pine resin and old snow.

For an unforgettable stay, it is hard to outshine the legendary Badrutt’s Palace Hotel, whose towers and slate roofs have watched over Lake St. Moritz since the 19th century. Inside, crystal chandeliers glitter over polished marble floors, and richly upholstered lounges invite couples to sink into deep sofas beside roaring fireplaces. Check into a lake-view room and you wake to sunlight pouring over the ice, catching in every drift and carving depth into the surrounding peaks. Breakfast arrives on a silver trolley: crisp pastries, creamy yogurts, jewel-bright jams, and eggs cooked exactly as you requested, all to be savored in your bathrobe as the mountains unfurl before you.

Outdoors, winter sports are elevated to an art form in St. Moritz. Skiers can choose between multiple nearby ski areas, their pistes groomed with surgical precision, winding through high Alpine scenery that feels almost absurdly scenic. Chairlifts rise above forests dripping with snow, while sun terraces beckon you to pause for a shared glühwein and a plate of rösti crisped to perfection. There is a peculiar kind of romance in the rhythm of skiing together — waiting for each other at the bottom of a run, sharing a private smile after a particularly exhilarating descent, leaning in close on a chairlift to shield each other from the wind.

Back down in the valley, one of the simplest yet most magical experiences is to skate hand in hand on the frozen lake itself when conditions allow. The ice, meticulously maintained, stretches out beneath a sky so clear it feels limitless. The air is thin and cold, sharp in your lungs, and every exhale drifts away like a small white cloud. Around you, other couples carve gentle arcs into the ice, and the distant ring of blades creates a winter symphony. When your cheeks sting from the cold, you can retreat to a nearby kiosk for hot chocolate topped with thick whipped cream, warming your fingers on the cup before lacing your skates again.

For a taste of old-world romance, arrange a horse-drawn sleigh ride through the snowy woods that fringe the valley. Wrapped in wool blankets, you sit close together as the horses’ hooves compress the snow with soft, rhythmic thuds. The sleigh glides smoothly along, bells chiming gently, while the world around you shrinks to a tunnel of white-laden branches and sparkling powder. Occasionally, the driver pauses, letting the silence wrap around you completely; the only sounds are your breathing and the muffled snort of the horses, small clouds of steam rising from their nostrils.

St. Moritz’s spirit of daring is perhaps best encapsulated by the historic Cresta Run, a natural ice skeleton toboggan track that has been thrilling — and intimidating — participants since the late 19th century. Even if you do not brave the run yourselves, watching riders hurtle headfirst down its twisting ice channels is an experience in itself. Standing side by side at a vantage point, you feel the thrum of adrenaline by proxy, the whoosh of speed cutting through the cold air as competitors race past. Afterwards, retreat to a snug bar, where dark wood paneling and vintage photographs tell the story of this storied track, and raise a glass together to all the ways people have chosen to embrace winter in this valley.

Evenings in St. Moritz invite lingering. Choose from world-renowned restaurants that pair haute cuisine with Alpine comfort: delicate veal in a Marsala reduction, risottos rich with local cheese, or platters of cured meats and pickles that celebrate the region’s rustic traditions. Candlelight softens polished interiors, while large windows offer glimpses of the snow continuing to fall outside, flakes spiraling gently down past floodlit peaks.

Later, perhaps after a final nightcap in a piano bar where live music wraps itself around murmured conversations, you return to your hotel. In your room, the lake is a silvered oval of ice framed by the dark silhouettes of mountains, and the sky above is freckled with stars. You might throw open the window for a moment, letting the sharp cold rush in, then close it again and slide beneath luxuriously heavy duvets. Outside, St. Moritz continues to glitter and hum; inside, there is only the steady heartbeat of the person you came here with, and the sense that the two of you are suspended in your own Alpine fairytale.

A Romantic Cabin Getaway in the Scottish Highlands

There is a particular kind of romance that belongs to the Scottish Highlands, woven from mist and stone, heather and history. In winter, this landscape trades its summer greens for a palette of russet moor, snow-dusted peaks, and deep, ink-dark lochs. The air carries the clean scents of peat smoke and wet earth, and the sky often feels close enough to touch, heavy with clouds that break apart to reveal sudden shards of pale, silver light. It is a place that invites you to slow down, to tuck yourselves away in a cabin with a roaring fire and a good bottle of whisky, and to let the outside world shrink to the view through your window.

Within Cairngorms National Park, the village of Braemar makes an ideal base for this kind of retreat. Surrounded by rolling hills and ancient Caledonian pine forests, Braemar is compact and walkable, its stone cottages and historic buildings gathered close against the winter chill. The nearby River Dee moves steadily through the valley, sometimes edged with ice, sometimes carrying the reflections of a low winter sun. Local shops display tartan blankets, hand-knit sweaters, and jars of marmalade infused with whisky, each one a small, tangible piece of Highland life.

Check into the art-filled Fife Arms, a hotel that feels like the love child of a traditional hunting lodge and an avant-garde gallery. In winter, its interiors become especially inviting: taxidermy stags gaze down from paneled walls, artworks in gilded frames glow in the lamplight, and polished wood floors creak softly underfoot. Many rooms feature fireplaces or wood-burning stoves, and there is nothing quite like returning from a bracing hike to find a fire already crackling, casting a golden wash over wool throws, antique trunks, and tweed-covered armchairs. The scent of smoke mixes with that of beeswax and old books, and somewhere a record plays softly, its slightly crackling notes lending a nostalgic warmth.

Days here can be as active or as unhurried as you like. For couples who love the outdoors, the surrounding hills offer countless trails that thread through forests and over open moorland. Even a short walk can feel cinematic in winter: your boots sink into spongy moss or crunch over frost, your breath rises in white clouds, and distant mountains shift in and out of view as the weather changes. You might follow a path to a frozen waterfall, its usual roar replaced by a brittle silence, or climb to a viewpoint where the landscape unfolds in layers — dark green pines, tawny bracken, and snow-capped peaks marching towards the horizon.

On other days, historic sites provide a different kind of journey. Castles — some restored, some in romantic ruination — dot the region, their stone walls bearing centuries of stories. Wander hand in hand through draughty halls, listen to a guide recount tales of clans and battles beside a smoking peat fire, and then step out into courtyards where your footsteps echo against curtain walls dusted with snow. The contrast between the past’s turbulence and the stillness of the present is striking, and it is hard not to feel a quiet sense of gratitude for the peaceful moment you are inhabiting together.

Back in Braemar, food and drink become central characters in your Highland romance. Local inns and hotel restaurants plate up dishes that are hearty yet surprisingly refined: venison slow-cooked until it almost falls apart, served with root vegetables that taste of the earth they were grown in; Cullen skink, a smoked haddock soup that arrives at the table steaming and fragrant; or a flaky, golden-crusted fish pie that reveals clouds of fish and cream beneath your fork. The star of the evenings, however, is often whisky. Behind bar counters, rows of bottles line up in hues from pale straw to deepest amber, each one holding within it the character of a particular distillery, a specific Highland valley, a stretch of coastline or moor.

Ask the bartender to guide you through a tasting tailored for two. They might begin with something soft and honeyed, move on to a dram with notes of dried fruit and spice, and end with a peatier, smokier whisky that evokes a distant bonfire on a cold night. Sharing a flight becomes a sensory experience in itself: comparing aromas, lingering over flavors, letting the warmth spread from your throat to your chest as the wind rattles at the windows outside.

The Highlands’ most enchanting secret, though, might be its music. In certain local pubs — the kind where wood tables are worn smooth by generations of elbows and the fire seems to burn perpetually — impromptu traditional music sessions blossom on winter evenings. Musicians gather in a corner with fiddles, accordions, guitars, and perhaps a bodhrán drum, and soon reels and airs begin to weave through the room. There is a hush as a slow, haunting ballad fills the space, the singer’s voice carrying centuries of love, loss, and landscape. Sharing a corner table, you and your partner can lean close over your pints, letting the music settle into your bones, feeling that you have been welcomed into something intimate and authentic.

Later, stepping out into the night, the village streets are quiet, often dusted with a thin layer of snow that crackles softly underfoot. Overhead, the sky is ink-black and scattered with bright, icy stars. The smoke from chimneys rises in faint, ghostly plumes, and in the distance, a single dog might bark, the sound carrying clearly through the stillness. Walking back to your room, your breath clouding in the air and your arms linked tightly, you are acutely aware of the simple luxury of a warm bed awaiting you, of the way winter strips life back to essentials: warmth, shelter, landscape, and the person with whom you have chosen to share them.

Maldives: An Island Paradise for Two

Far from the snow and ice of the northern hemisphere, the Maldives offers a very different kind of winter romance — one where the only white in sight is the powder-soft sand, and the only chill you feel is the condensation on the side of your cocktail glass. Scattered like a necklace of emeralds and sapphires across the Indian Ocean, these islands offer privacy on a scale that can feel almost surreal. Come here in mid-winter and you step from a gray, bundled world into a realm of warm sea breezes, turquoise lagoons, and nights so clear that the Milky Way seems to spill directly into the water.

The quintessential Maldivian love nest is the overwater bungalow, perched on stilts above shimmering shallows that shift from pale aquamarine to electric blue as the sun moves across the sky. Inside, polished wood floors, billowing white linens, and open-plan bathrooms create a sense of air and light, often with floor-to-ceiling windows framing nothing but sea and sky. Some villas feature glass panels set into the floor, turning the living room into a private aquarium where you can watch reef fish flit past colorful corals while you sip your morning coffee.

Slide open your deck doors and you step into your own private world. Here there may be a plunge pool, a hammock strung inches above the water, and wide steps leading directly into the lagoon. The sea laps gently against the stilts, a soft, steady sound that quickly becomes the background music of your stay. In the early morning, the light shimmers off the calm surface like scattered coins; by late afternoon, the water deepens to rich sapphire, catching the first blush of sunset.

Days in the Maldives unfold at a pace that seems designed for couples. After a slow breakfast — perhaps fresh tropical fruit, coconut pancakes, and eggs prepared to order — you might wander down to the water’s edge for a snorkel. Even just off the shore, coral gardens teem with life: parrotfish in hues of lime and fuchsia, graceful angelfish, and the occasional, unhurried turtle gliding past as though in a world entirely its own. The muffled sound of your own breathing through the snorkel accompanies this underwater ballet, and when you surface, salt on your lips and sunlight dappling your skin, your partner’s grin in the water beside you feels like the purest expression of shared joy.

For those who crave deeper exploration, diving excursions reveal an even more dramatic world. Drop beneath the surface alongside your guide and you enter a blue realm of coral walls, sandy channels, and cleaning stations where reef sharks and manta rays cruise with unhurried grace. Descending hand in hand along a mooring line, you watch as schools of fish part around you like liquid confetti. Back on the boat, towels and hot tea await, and as the atoll’s low green islands slide by on the horizon, you might feel that the rest of the world is very far away indeed.

Back at your resort, spa rituals become an integral part of the romance. Many Maldivian spas are built over the reef or nestled in jungle-like gardens, their treatment rooms open to the sound of waves and birdsong. Book a couple’s massage timed to coincide with sunset, and you will lie side by side as therapists work warmed oils scented with frangipani or ylang-ylang into your skin. Outside, the sky gradually flares from gold to rose to violet; inside, the quiet is punctuated only by the rhythmic motion of the massage and the occasional sigh as tension dissolves. Emerging afterwards, limbs pleasantly heavy, you step out into twilight, where lanterns now glow along sandy paths and the sea becomes a vast, dark mirror.

As night settles, the Maldivian sky often performs its own kind of alchemy at the water’s edge. On certain shores and at certain times, bioluminescent plankton gather in the shallows, transforming the foamy edges of each wave into a galaxy of blue-white sparks. Walk barefoot along the wet sand with your partner and each step sets off a small explosion of light, as though the stars have descended to earth to dance at your feet. Pausing to watch the waves roll in — black water, bright edges — you feel suspended between two constellations, one above and one below.

Dinner in the Maldives is rarely just about the food, though that is usually excellent: grilled reef fish marinated in lime and chili, curries fragrant with coconut and cinnamon, glossy tropical fruits arranged like edible jewels. Many resorts specialize in creating private, one-of-a-kind settings for couples. You might find yourselves at a table set directly on the sand, its linen cloth gently lifting in the breeze, a circle of lanterns casting a soft glow around you while the rest of the beach recedes into darkness. A personal butler appears and disappears like a courteous ghost, delivering each course, topping up glasses of chilled white wine, and then melting away to let the conversation ebb and flow in peace.

For the ultimate seclusion, consider staying at or arranging a day on a private island within your resort’s atoll. Here your only neighbors might be a handful of seabirds and the occasional curious hermit crab dragging its borrowed shell along the tideline. Beach picnics materialize seemingly from nowhere — linen cloths spread under palm trees, cushions scattered in the shade, and coolers filled with salads, chilled champagne, and just-baked breads. Hours pass in a dreamy blur of swimming, sunbathing, and reading side by side, interrupted only by shared dips into the warm sea when the sun climbs too high.

By the time your stay draws to a close, the rhythms of the islands — sunrise walks, mid-morning swims, languid lunches, and starlit strolls along luminous shores — will have rewired your sense of time. Winter, in the world you left behind, will seem like a distant story. In its place remains the memory of your partner silhouetted against an endless ocean, of evenings when stars and plankton conspired to surround you with light, and of a quiet, steady happiness born of being truly, luxuriously away together.

Whether you choose to chase the aurora in Finnish Lapland, wander the cobbled lanes of Quebec City, bask in the glamour of St. Moritz, retreat to a firelit inn in the Scottish Highlands, or trade snow for the warm seas of the Maldives, a romantic winter getaway is ultimately about more than the destination. It is about granting yourselves time — to talk, to be silent, to share new experiences, and to rediscover the small, daily acts of tenderness that sustain love. In the stillness and beauty of winter, wherever you find it, those moments have a way of shining brighter, like lanterns in the snow or stars over the sea.