“But I hear that you were quite a hit with Donatien last night.”
Hayden stifled a groan, thinking that Karla was going to turn around and hit Eloise. Instead, she said simply: “We were engaged in a wager, that’s all. You’re not jealous, are you?”
At this Eloise laughed, although Hayden thought he caught the slightest hint of bitterness in her frivolity. “Jealousy is such a wasted emotion, don’t you think?”
He studiously tried to avoid looking at her while she slunk back into her seat beside him, her hand not at all accidentally brushing along his thigh and her fingers stroking where a telltale lump was forming in his trousers. He crossed one knee over the other and again she laughed, this time with unfeigned delight.
“I would never have thought, Jeanne, that your Sebastian was such a shy man. You really must show me some time how you rouse him.”
“If you don’t know that,” Karla retorted acidly, “then I guess all those professional talents are not as proficient as you’ve led us to believe.”
From the corner of his eye Hayden saw Eloise lick her lips like a predator. “Oh, I like a challenge, especially when the catch is as big as this one.”
For the rest of the journey Hayden said virtually nothing, feeling increasingly morose and occasionally moving to try and catch Eloise’s groping hands as they casually slid across his lap. Karla chatted lightly to Valmont, clearly ignoring everything that was going on in the back seat and instead listening intently as the Marquis pointed out various features of the Provençal landscape. From time to time they saw rows of luscious purple lavender stretching along the hills, or fields of ripening wheat beyond the rich green trees.
The trip seemed to take an age, though in fact it probably lasted not much more than an hour and a half. Had it been only himself and Karla, Hayden would have enjoyed driving along in the smooth, elegant Bentley, but as they turned away before signs pointing to Aix-en-Provence to climb one of the many, rugged hills, he simply hoped that he would be able to get out of the car before too long.
They passed a sign saying Lacoste, which made Hayden frown. Why on earth would Valmont bring them out to a place associated with clothes more commonly worn by chavs? He even wondered if that crude connotation would even make sense to the Frenchman.
The village of Lacoste itself was small and more rural than Hayden would have expected, but the Marquis continued through, heading along the rough road towards a ruined castle that lay atop a hill. At last, beneath the tumbled walls of grey stone built atop gigantic boulders, he drew the Bentley to a stop and quickly stepped from the car, moving around to the passenger’s side to hold the door for Karla.
“If you were a gentleman,” Eloise whispered, leaning into Hayden’s ear, “you’d come and open my door for me.”
“If I were a gentleman,” he replied sourly, “I wouldn’t be sitting here.”
She gave his leg a playful squeeze. “Then it’s good that I prefer not to spend my time around gentlemen.” With that she slid from the car, her smooth, shining buttocks swelling provocatively from the corset binding her waist. She’d told him last night that he preferred vanilla sex, but at the sight of her kinky ass in its shiny PVC, his loins insisted that he didn’t mind the alternatives after all.
The sunlight was bright as he climbed from the car and Hayden squinted. The village lay in the valley and up here the rough mountains were stony and bare in patches, while the skull-like castle dominated the hillside around them. Turning to look around, he could see that it wasn’t quite as derelict as it first appeared, signs of renovation being evident on the far side.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“Chateau de Lacoste,” was Valmont’s answer. Obvious, really, thought Hayden—obvious and not really very helpful.
“It has a certain charm,” Karla said, one hand shielding her eyes from the unforgiving sun. “Abandoned and poetic.”
Ominous and bloody sinister, was Hayden’s retort, though he said nothing. Eloise had wandered a little way towards the walls and looked up at them, transfixed by some private thought. At least at this distance she couldn’t grope him.
“It was built in the eleventh century and, rather like Chateau de Tour, rebuilt many times until the time of the Revolution. The locals, illiterate peasants the lot of them, took many of the stones for their petty farms and hovels, not realising that it belonged to an ancestor of mine.”
“Who was that?” Hayden asked, suddenly alert. There was a reason why the Marquis had driven them out into this countryside, and it wasn’t to admire some broken architecture. Valmont ignored him, however.
“The current occupant is slowly renovating it, though I can’t say that I entirely admire his taste.”
“And who is the current owner?” Karla asked casually.
“Pierre Cardin.” Valmont almost spat out the words. “Little parvenu tailor! He holds music festivals here, you know, as though that will give him the culture he failed to cultivate when he was a pathetic seamstress in Vichy.” His mood seemed to suddenly darken and he stared up at the walls balefully. Without an explanation, he turned on his heels and stormed towards the Bentley, snapping his fingers. The effect on Eloise was electric: her spine stiffened as though expecting a blow and she turned immediately around, walking back to the car surprisingly submissively.
For a few seconds Karla and Hayden stared at each other, their eyes locked in mutual incomprehension. “He’s a touchy one,” Hayden murmured. With a barely perceptible nod she slowly made her way back to the car.
Valmont drove down the hillside almost savagely, swinging the car around rapidly and almost hitting an innocuous Renault at one point. After half an hour of such manoeuvres, however, during which everyone—Eloise included—sat in white-knuckled silence, he seemed to calm somewhat. At least the rapacious groping had stopped.
“Forgive me,” he said at last, his shoulders becoming less tense. “I always become angry when I think of that slimy upstart living there, with all his affectations and delusions.”
Hayden decided to take a chance, wondering whether it was a good idea to provoke the Marquis when he was evidently eager to drive so recklessly, but also considering this too good a chance to miss to needle his antagonist. “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused mildly. “I’ve always thought his designs were rather good.”
He saw Valmont’s eyes flash in the rear-view mirror and knew that, for a second, he had succeeded in landing a lucky blow. Then, however, he laughed.
“I suspect that you don’t give a fuck for Pierre Cardin,” he replied. “And if you do, then more fool you. Simply buying a castle doesn’t stop you being a bourgeois, not even one with as august a lineage as Lacoste. Sometimes I go there to remind myself of what I am, where I come from.”
“Your ancestor,” Karla suggested, slightly hesitantly. “You implied that the chateau once belonged to someone in your family.”
“So it did, so it did,” Valmont agreed genially. “On my mother’s side. A slightly distant relative now, but famous—or infamous—nonetheless. I presume you have heard of the Marquis de Sade.”
It was Hayden’s turn to laugh now, and he fell back into his seat, shaking his head.
“Does something amuse you, Monsieur Rider?” Valmont asked, his tone icy and serious.
“No, no. I should have guessed, that’s all.”
“I doubt you could guess,” was the imperious response. “Eloise is quite a fan of the divine Marquis, aren’t you?”
“As you say, Donatien,” she replied meekly. Hayden glanced across at her. He couldn’t be sure but… was that a hint of fear in her voice? Karla said nothing and Hayden was unable to read the back of her head for any clues as to what she was thinking. When his eyes looked up, however, he was aware of Valmont staring at him.
“We still have a wager, Monsieur Rider,” he said, his own dark eyes hard and ruthless. “Let’s not forget why you’re here, after all.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” murmure
d Hayden, turning to stare glumly out of the window as the bright, relentlessly sunny landscape rolled by.
Chapter Eleven: Hayden
When Hayden descended into the great hallway of Chateau de Tour the next morning, his heart froze for a second as he saw Karla already before him, talking with Valmont as Latour stood beside the front door, his hulking form as ominous as ever. Paranoia momentarily consumed him: were they planning to do something without him? Was his hold on Karla that tenuous?
That paranoia only increased, burning with a fierce intensity now, as the Marquis raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, his eyes shining with barely concealed desire. For her part, she seemed to enjoy the attention and stroked his cheek, smiling broadly as he gave a gentlemanly bow. What was confusing, however, was the fact that she was wearing jodhpurs and riding boots whereas Valmont was dressed in a suit. Had they been out riding together already? Were they planning to go now? No, that was stupid: there was no way that the Marquis was dressed for such activities.
“Ah, Monsieur Rider,” said Valmont as he lifted his head. “You join us at last. I was just wishing your lovely companion a pleasant morning.”
Karla looked up at Hayden coolly. “Unfortunately, Donatien has to leave us this morning, but I believe that he has something planned for his return this evening.”
“You have to go out?” Hayden asked as he reached the bottom of the wide staircase. “Oh, that’s a shame. A terrible shame.”
Valmont laughed but his eyes contained a hint of iron as he looked at the other man. “Yes,” he replied. “I am expecting something important. Normally I would leave my agent to take care of it, but this requires my own personal attention. It can’t be helped but I shall return this evening.”
“I’m sure we’ll find some way to pass the time. No need to hurry back.”
Valmont smirked at this. “Oh, but I shall hurry. I think it’s time to address the reason why you’re here, don’t you think?”
The sardonic quip that Hayden had been prepared to deliver died on his lips. “Ah, that,” he said quietly.
“Yes, that. Jeanne has indicated her own interest in resolving this matter, and while I admit our original wager was in many ways an ignoble one, I would never pursue it without this beautiful woman’s consent.” So saying he bowed slightly and Karla responded with an incline of her head.
“I decided to take the opportunity this morning to go out for a ride and view Donatien’s estates.” She turned her eyes from Hayden to Valmont and smiled. “They interest me enormously,” she remarked with a smile.
Valmont’s raised one eyebrow a little at this and held her hand once more. “And so they should, Madame Duval. I hope that you will have the opportunity to explore them many more times in the future.”
At this, Hayden thought he would explode. “What the—” he began to cry, but Karla raised a hand and stopped him with a piercing stare from her bright, green eyes.
“And of course you’ll like to take this opportunity as well to come out with me, won’t you.”
That threw him. “What? Me?”
“Of course you would, Monsieur Rider—or did your name come from an ancestor who preferred his exercise between a woman’s thighs?” Valmont laughed at his own witticism.
“I don’t… I don’t have anything suitable to wear.”
That made Valmont scoff. “Come, Monsieur Rider. You don’t think that my stables are used only by me, do you? I’ll have one of my servants sort you out appropriate attire. You can take Ajax—a bit temperamental, but I’m sure you’ll be able to handle him.” He returned his attention to Karla and bowed once more. Any more fucking bowing, thought Hayden bitterly, and he’ll be scraping the floor with that bastard nose of his. The Marquis murmured something in French to Karla and she responded with a giggle and a kiss on his brow.
“What the hell was that all about?” Hayden almost shouted after he and Latour had left.
“Go and get changed and come riding with me and I’ll tell you.”
“I’m not going bloody riding!” he snarled. “I’ll stay here.”
“You think I’m going to let you stay in this house alone with that bitch roaming around? Come on, get changed.”
“What did he say to you?” he asked.
“Just? Oh… let me see. ‘I shall miss every moment until I return to you.’”
“What?” Hayden could feel a vein beginning to throb in his temple. He really wanted to hit something now—very hard.
“Yes. A bit over the top, but very gallant, don’t you think? It would be nice if you could speak to me that way once in a while.”
“You don’t give me a chance.”
She glared at him. “You’ve had every chance in the world. Anyway, we don’t have time for this. Go and get changed.” She stopped and her expression changed. “You do know how to ride, don’t you?”
“Of course,” he sneered. “Oh, hell and bloody damnation! I’ll meet you at the stables in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes became half an hour, but as Hayden strode towards the stable, the tight-fitting pants clinging to his muscular thighs, a pair of stout boots reaching up his calves and a short-sleeved shirt letting the warm air caress his strong arms, the appreciative look in Karla’s eyes showed that she would forgive him for making her wait.
“My, my, Sebastian,” she said, her voice thrilling with a tone that hadn’t been directed at him for days. “Don’t you look fine.”
He was going to respond in a similar fashion, for in a pair of jodhpurs that accentuated her curves and a flowing blouse teasing her torso, her hair folded up beneath her riding hat, she also looked immensely desirable. He was stopped, however, by the sight of a stable hand leading two horses towards them. One, the smaller of the two, was a gentle grey mare that nickered slightly as she was led forward. She was dwarfed, however, by the ruddy-brown beast beside her, with taut muscles rippling beneath the sheen of its coat as it pawed the ground and snorted. One look between the creature’s legs and even Hayden could see that this was no gelding. The stable boy said something in French to Karla who laughed and responded, glancing across at her companion.
“What was that?” he asked nervously.
“He said that Marie will be fine with me, but that you’ll need to show Ajax who’s master.”
“Great,” he murmured. “That’s just fucking great.”
“You’ll be fine,” she responded, evidently enjoying his discomfort. “I thought you said you knew how to ride.”
“In theory, yes. I mean, you just point the head thing in one direction and hold on, don’t you.” Hayden sighed. “Do we really have to do this?”
“Get on you big baby! You’ll be fine.”
It was not the first time that Hayden had sat astride a horse, but his previous experience had been with creatures much more placid than Ajax. For her part, Karla mounted Marie as though born to the saddle and led the way from the stable yard, leaving Hayden to follow more cautiously.
For several minutes, she cantered ahead of him. As unfamiliar muscles and half-forgotten memories settled into place, at last Hayden found the courage to give Ajax his head a little. It could almost have been enjoyable, had he not been gripping onto the sides of the bay so tightly.
When he caught up with her, Karla pointed towards a copse of trees some way off. “We’ll head over there,” she said. To his surprise, she had dropped her French accent for the first time in days.
“What’s going on?” he asked. She looked at him coolly.
“We need to talk, and I don’t want to be bugged in that bloody house.” So saying, she spurred on the grey mare, galloping onwards at a speed that Hayden dared not match.
As he finally approached the trees, gasping slightly at the effort required to keep Ajax under control, he panted: “You ride well.”
“Runs in the family,” she replied. “Grandpa was a horse trader.” She leaned over and patted Marie beneath the neck, causing the mare to shake her head with pleasur
e. “He’d have liked you, girly. You’re not like the nags he had to deal in.” She looked up at Hayden, an ironic smile on her lips. “You know the best way to sell a nag?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” he replied, utterly confused at what was going on. Looking around he could see the chateau in the distance, while on one side a fence marked a boundary between the trees and a field of lavender, beside which ran a stream.
“Chew up a big lump of gum,” Karla replied, “then stick it up the horse’s arse. It’ll throw its head around and prance around as proud as punch, so you can get a good price for it. A few days later, it’ll pass the chewing gum and return to the same poor old beast it ever was.”
“Fascinating,” he replied flatly. “So, what you’re telling me is that your entire family consists of liars, cheats and grifters.”
This riled her. “Oh, and yours are so high and bloody mighty, are they? Are they all as bad as you?”
“Worse. I think I’m the most honest out the lot of them. All the others tend to work in finance. Anyway, I thought you said your grandfather was friends with the Irish prime minister, or whatever.”
She scowled. “That was great-grandpa. And yes, they were fine drinking buddies.”
He could feel an argument building, but he wanted to avoid it. What was at stake was too important. “Karla, what’s going on?”
She didn’t reprimand him for using her name—as he knew she wouldn’t. Out here, away from de Tour, it was finally time for them both to be honest with each other.
“You know how for the past couple of days I haven’t been able to get a signal?”
He nodded. “I could have sorted that for you, if you’d have asked.”
Knaves Page 11