by Sandra Brown
She slipped her arms around his neck."Pinkie, please listen to what Mr.
Pat says. Don't perpetuate this feud with Basile. It would be pointless.
He only wanted to shake you up, and now that he has that's the last
we'll see or hear of him. If Basile can walk away from it, we should be
able to. Hmm? Let it go."
He stopped her pleas for her lover's life with a hard kiss, which he
ended abruptly. He could tell she was surprised that he ended it.
Did the bitch actually expect him to take her to bed? He felt like
laughing out loud, in her face, but it wasn't yet time to spring the
surpnses she had in store.
"Get some sleep," he told her, patting her cheek."I want you to look
your best tonight."
"Tonight?"
"At our party."
"Party?"
"Remy, is that echoing speech pattern something you acquired from
Basile?"
"I'm sorry. What party?"
"A Mardi Gras party. Have you forgotten that today is Fat Tuesday?
Tomorrow we must atone for our sins, but tonight we can be
self-indulgent. I certainly intend to satisfy "
"I can't attend a party tonight."
"That's another tiresome habit you've picked up," he said, frowning.
"Interrupting me while I'm speaking." She bit back another interruption.
After a moment, she said with that soft tremor in her voice, "It's just
that I'm flabbergasted that you expect me to host a party on my first
night back."
"What better time to celebrate your safe return?"
"I'd rather we celebrate alone."
"That's sweet, my dear, but I'm afraid I can't call off the festivities
now. Too many people would be disappointed." He tweaked her cheek.
"Including Flarra. I've invited her to participate."
Her face drained of color. She swallowed convulsively, as though to hold
back nausea."Really?" she said with transparently faked excitement."What
made you decide to include her? You never have before."
"I've reconsidered the points you made during our last discussion about
her. I think they're valid. It's time we cut her some slack. She is,
after all, no longer a child, but a young woman."
"Actually, I was wrong, Pinkie. You were right. You're always right
about these things."
He frowned."Your turnabout comes too late, Remy. I can't disappoint
Flarra now that she's already been invited. You wouldn't want me to do
that. That would be cruel. Now, you take a nap," he said, coming to his
feet."Maybe it'll put some color back into your cheeks. Forgive me for
saying so, but you look a little worse for wear."
"I realize how frightful I must look. My hair and nails are a wreck.
I'll arrange to have them done before tonight."
"You can take care of the beauty treatments yourself after your rest."
He moved toward the door."Oh, by the way, I removed the telephone so you
wouldn't be disturbed."
She glanced toward the nightstand, and he delighted in the frantic
expression that appeared on her face."I'd like to call Flarra.
It's been over a week since I spoke to her, and I'm sure she's wondering
why."
"Not to worry. I told her a little white lie about your having strep
throat. By now she's been told that you've recovered and that you're
looking forward to seeing her this evening."
"But I need to speak with her."
"Tonight will be soon enough. I've instructed the staff to leave you in
absolute privacy. I alone will be checking on you throughout the day."
He blew her a kiss, then made certain that she saw him locking the door
from the outside before he pulled it closed.
Remy rushed to the door and gripped the knob with both hands. She tried
moving it up and down, and from side to side, but it didn't budge.
With a sob of frustration, she slumped against the door.
She had trusted in the paradox that she must return to Pinkie before she
could successfully escape him. She had known it would take all her
acting skills to convince him that she was devastated by her capture,
and anxious to put the unpleasant episode behind her and resume her life
as it had been. She was willing to continue the charade for as long as
it took to get Flarra safely out of Pinkie's grasp, even going so far
God help her as to share his bed, although she hadn't told Basile that.
But Pinkie hadn't immediately hustled her up to bed, which was
uncustomary, and because it was, it was also alarming. There was only
one reason he would abstain: if he suspected her of being intimate with
Basile. And if he suspected that, then her life, as well as Basile's and
Flarra's, was in peril.
Pinkie must have guessed as soon as he kissed her, or even before, that
she was coming home to him different than when she left. It must have
been instantly obvious to him that she was radically changed. If he
could spot a minute imperfection on a blossom of one of his orchids, or
detect that the wine was served a degree too warm or too cool, he could
sense something as profound as the change she had undergone in the
swamp, where she had come to love Burke Basile, in addition to coming to
love herself again.
If she lived to be a hundred, or died today, she would be grateful for
those days of isolation in that exotic and primal place. She'd been
forced to take a good hard look at herself and acknowledge that she had
become just what Basile had called her a whore. She had prostituted
herself for the best of reasons, and that was to protect her sister.
But everything had been sacrificed to that end her pride, her
self-esteem, her soul. Having wholly given up herself, what good was she
to Flarra or to anyone?
She now despised Mrs. Pinkie Duvall, who was passive and afraid, whose
only means of survival was through feminine wiles and manipulation.
But she had developed a growing respect for Remy Lambeth, whose opinions
had merit, who was strong and courageous, who was a survivor, who
warranted the love of a man with humanity and integrity.
Basile! He must be alerted that their strategy had backfired. But before
she could even place a telephone call, she must get out of this room.
She pitched herself into finding a way.
Her mother's john had taught her how to pick most standard locks.
But technology in door locks had advanced along with everything else,
and Pinkie insisted on having state-of-the-art everything. When the
house was renovated a few years earlier, the master bedroom had been
made into a safe room, a place to take refuge should intruders penetrate
the other security system. On the outside doorjamb was a numerical
keypad. One had to know the sequence of numbers in order to unlock it. A
key would dismantle it from the inside, but Remy's exhaustive search of
the suite, including Pinkie's dressing room, didn't produce it. In
desperation she tried manicure scissors, a nail file, a hairpin, but, as
she suspected, the lock was too sophisticated for an amateur with
makeshift tools.
She considered the windows next. Drawing open the drapes and shutters,
she was dismayed to see that the
exterior shutters had been closed.
Only once before, when there had been warnings of an approaching
tropical storm, had they been closed. But now they'd been battened down.
Daylight was struggling to leak through.
Not that it mattered. The locks on the windows were ordinary, but the
alarm system wasn't. Lven if she unlocked a window and opened it, the
security alarm would beep intermittently to alert the staff of an
interruption in the circuit. Someone would report it to Pinkie.
Dismissing the windows as a means of escape, she paced the rooms,
racking her brain for another possible outlet.
Through the air-conditioning ducts? She removed the grill over an
air-intake vent. Too small.
Up through the fireplace chimney? Hardly.
She couldn't walk through walls or seep beneath doorways like smoke.
Smoke!
The house was equipped not only with an anti-intrusion security system,
but also with smoke and heat sensors, which were linked to the alarm
company's monitoring service as well as to the local fire department.
Once an alarm went off, fire trucks were dispatched. It was an
irrevocable signal, none were considered false alarms. Under no
circumstances could the fire trucks be recalled until every sensor in
the house was checked by an official.
There was a smoke detector above the door leading into her dressing
area. She removed the drawers from the night table, set the lamp on the
floor, and dragged the piece of furniture into position.
She lit a scented candle, kicked off her shoes, and scrambled onto the
nightstand. Stretching her arm up, she managed to bring the flame to
within inches of the detector.
"It won't work, Remy."
Startled, she dropped the lighted candle, which immediately singed a
hole in the carpet. Pinkie crossed the floor and stamped out the candle,
then looked up at her with censure and amusement.
"You look rather silly, Remy, but I must say I'm impressed by your
ingenuity. You've exhibited more sagacity in the last half hour than in
all the years I've known you."
In a courtly manner, he extended her his hand to help her down.
When she disdainfully ignored it and climbed down from the nightstand on
her own, he chuckled."I wouldn't have overlooked something as elementary
as the smoke and fire alarms, my dear, although I confess to being
pleasantly surprised that you were clever enough to think of them
yourself."
"I've always been smarter than you gave me credit for, Pinkie."
"You were smart enough to conceal a pregnancy and miscarriage from me,
I'll concede that. Surprised, Remy? Dr. Caruth was more than willing to
confide everything when I presented her with some rather compromising
snapshots of her and her lover, who, coincidentally, is her nurse.
Her female nurse.
"While I'm tolerant of the sexual preferences of others," he continued
mildly, "I think it's safe to assume that the society mavens who smugly
tout Dr. Caruth over any of her male colleagues would be aghast to learn
about her private life. Even if they suspect such they would rather
their suspicions not be confirmed, which would, of course, necessitate
their boycotting her.
"Now, what were we talking about? Oh, yes, your IQ. Intelligence is
wasted on women like you, Remy. I'd venture to say that even Basile
agrees. I seriously doubt that he engaged you in stimulating
conversation before he fucked you. And he did fuck you, didn't he?"
"He made love to me," she said defiantly."For the first time in my life,
I made love with a man."
He backhanded her across the face, her cheekbone catching most of the
thrust. She reeled from the impact and the blinding pain. Her knees
buckled. She went down.
"You're a cunt, Remy. That's all you ever were, and that's all you'll
ever be because that's what spawned you. You may have romanticized the
time you spent alone with Basile, cozy in your little cabin, just the
two of you in the wilderness. But don't delude yourself. Basile is a
man, and all men recognize you exactly for what you are. He fucked you,
but only to insult me. Now, where is he?"
"I don't know." He kicked her in the kidney. She almost fainted from the
pain, but she clung to consciousness and staved off the waves of nausea
"Where is he?"
"He dropped me off at Dredd's. Then he left."
"By boat or car?"
"Boat." Her tears were genuine as she recalled those last few moments
they'd been together, both wishing there were another way out of their
dilemma."I didn't want to be left behind, but " Pinkie's snicker
interrupted her."Just as I told you, Remy.
Basile had got what he wanted from you, while you, poor dear, wound up
with a broken heart."
She glared up at him."You can't keep me locked in this room
indefinitely, Pinkie. Sooner or later, some way or another, I'll get
out."
"Remy, by the time this night is over, you won't care whether or not you
leave this room. You'll be totally indifferent to what happens to you."
"What do you intend to do, keep hitting me until I'd just as soon die as
go on living?" She raised her head to a proud angle."You can try,
Pinkie. But you'll be surprised by how resilient I've become. You no
longer have the power to hurt me. I'm not what you say I am. I know that
now. Your insults are wasted on me. I'm immune to them."
"Love has made you strong?" he taunted.
"That's right."
"Really? Brave talk, Remy. But let's see how courageous you are after
something that you value is tainted by someone whom you detest."
Remy's chest seemed to crack around the sob that rose out of it.
"Don't touch her."
"Ah, so you've guessed. Sweet Flarra." He kissed his fingertips.
"So ripe, so eager to experience life."
Remy gripped the edge of the nightstand and pulled herself to her feet,
then she lunged at him, her fingers going for his eyes. He knocked her
away, slinging her down onto the bed.
"The girl is practically bursting with vitality, isn't she?" he said
pleasantly, as though they were discussing the merits of a race horse.
"She blatantly declares her sexuality. It crackles around her like
electricity. She's got more potential for pleasing a man than even you,
Remy. How exciting it'll be for the man who takes her for the first
time."
Remy slid off the bed. On her knees, she walked toward him and threw her
arms around his thighs, begging him hoarsely, "Please, Pinkie, don't
hurt her. I beg you. I'll do anything you say. Anything."
She clutched him tighter, using his clothing for handholds as she
climbed him, pulling herself to her feet. Then she kissed him and
caressed him through his trousers."Do anything with me, but don't harm
her."
He avoided her kisses and pushed her hands away."Stop it Remy."
"Please, Pinkie," she sobbed."Please, don't touch her."
"I don't intend to, darling. Are you under the misconception that I'll
replace you in my bed with Flarra? Not at all." He reached out and
/> stroked her cheek."I've given her as a present. To Bardo."
For several seconds after he left, relocking the door from the outside,
Remy stood as though nailed to the floor, swaying slightly from his last
verbal blow. Bardo. With Flarra.
She crossed her arms over her stomach, and bent forward She stifled a
keening sound by biting her lower lip. Then she whispered an earnest
prayer of thanksgiving to God for giving her one last chance to save the
situation.
Uncurling her fingers, she stared at the key lying in her palm the key
she'd picked from Pinkie's pocket while pretending to beg his mercy.
"I don't get it. Why aren't I going straight to Remy's house?"
The girl's naivete was as much a turn-on as mental visions of her out of
the school uniform. Seductive, sweet-smelling Flarra was going to be the
best time he'd had in a long while. It was all he could do to keep from
licking his chops in anticipation of things to come.
"The house is in an uproar," Bardo said by way of explanation.
"They're decorating for the party. Workers so thick you can't stir them