The Pleasures of Autumn

by Evie Hunter

  She tilted her head to one side and flashed him her best Lottie smile. ‘Would you like me to?’

  The first titter of laughter turned into a roar that echoed around the courtroom. Even the usually sedate Arnheim smiled. The judge banged his gavel on the polished wooden desk and called for order.

  Two red patches flared on the prosecutor’s cheeks.

  Sinead sat back, waiting for more questions along the same line.

  Instead, he strode to the prosecutor’s desk and held a whispered conversation with his associate. From the side of the courtroom, a man wheeled a trolley bearing electronic equipment. ‘At this time we intend to proceed with CCTV footage from the museum.’

  The next thirty minutes were damning. She almost felt like convicting herself. By the time the clerk announced a recess, a pool of sweat had collected in the small of her back.

  Sinead risked a sideways glance at the judge. He was barely listening, his decision was already made.

  ‘Stop.’ The shout from the courtroom guard dragged her attention back to the entrance.

  The woman’s eyes were covered by large sunglasses. The dark-blue suit was identical to the one she wore. Titian hair fell loosely about her shoulders. Her mouth bore the same slash of lipstick in exactly the same shade as her own. Sinead’s eyes filled with tears as she watched her sashay to the front of the court. Her sister’s voice carried clearly around the room.

  ‘I’m Roisin O’Sullivan and I didn’t steal the jewel either.’

  For the second time that day, the reporters fled the courtroom in a pack. Some didn’t even wait until they reached the exit to switch on their phones, much to the consternation of the clerk. The spectators at the rear of the court stood up, craning their necks to see the latest arrival. The judge banged his gavel uselessly, as he called for order.

  Sinead permitted herself a laugh when she saw the prosecutor slump into his chair and mop his brow with a handkerchief.

  Roisin took off her sunglasses and gave her sister a wink. Sinead had no idea what she was up to, but she had certainly blown a hole in the prosecution case.

  Arnheim seized his chance. ‘If I might be permitted to speak. I would like to recall one of the witnesses for the prosecution.’

  Museum security guard, Jean-Baptiste Moutier, was clearly nervous. He fiddled with the collar of his white shirt as if someone had sprinkled it with itching powder. Sinead gave him an encouraging smile.

  He frowned at her, glanced at Roisin and frowned again.

  As Arnheim stood up and strolled to the front of the court, the rotund prosecutor sat forwards in his chair. The courtroom fell silent.

  ‘Monsieur Moutier, perhaps you would be so good as to relate the events of the evening of the theft for us again.’

  Moutier nodded, pleased to be on familiar ground. ‘I had done my usual rounds and I was back at my desk when Mlle O’Sullivan arrived. She often worked late.’

  ‘Are you sure it was her?’ Arnheim asked, darting a pointed glance at the front row of the court where the sisters sat side by side.

  He cleared his throat nervously. ‘I saw Mlle O’Sullivan every day. She often stopped to ask about my daughter. She’s studying ballet.’

  ‘I see. So there was nothing unusual about that evening,’ Arnheim asked. ‘How long did you chat for?’

  ‘We didn’t talk at all that night. She just signed in.’

  ‘I see,’ Arnheim said. ‘But you did see her and there is no doubt in your mind whatsoever that it was Mlle O’Sullivan.’

  ‘None,’ Moutier agreed.

  Arnheim smiled. ‘Thank you Monsieur. That will be all.’

  The relief on the security guard’s face was palpable. He stood up and exited the witness box. As he prepared to return to his seat, Arnheim turned. ‘One last thing. Perhaps you would be so good as to place your hand on the shoulder of Mlle O’Sullivan please.’

  ‘I object,’ the prosecutor rose to his feet.

  Arnheim threw out his hands in a gesture of bewilderment. ‘I fail to see the problem. The witness has stated that he knows Mlle O’Sullivan. He has spoken to her frequently and has no doubt that she was at the museum that night. It’s a simple question of identity.’

  ‘This is preposterous. I must object.’

  Sinead held her breath. Beside her, Roisin reached for her hand and she clutched it gratefully.

  Sensing the closing of a trap, the judge shook his head. ‘Mr Arnheim?’

  ‘Your honour, this whole case rests on the question of identity. You have seen the footage. You have heard from Monsieur Moutier. I am simply asking that he formally identifies the accused. Nothing more.’

  ‘Very well, if you will oblige us, Monsieur Moutier.’

  Her heart pounded as the security guard approached, but she schooled her face into a mask of indifference. Jean-Baptiste was a good man and a proud father. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into the middle of this, but then neither did she.

  When this was over, she and Roisin were going to have a reckoning.

  The guard stopped less than two feet from where they sat. Beads of sweat had popped up across his brow. He looked intently at her face and back to her sister, then back to her again, before glancing back at the judge.

  The prosecutor tried again. ‘I object to this … this –’

  ‘Sit down,’ the judge said in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘Monsieur Moutier, please continue.’

  As the guard stepped forwards, Sinead closed her eyes. Her heartbeat thundered like a runaway horse, she dug her nails into her sister’s sweating palm. Roisin clutched her hand tightly.

  Nothing happened. Sinead’s eyes flew open. Roisin released her hand and stood up, facing her accuser for the first time.

  ‘Thank you, Monsieur Moutier,’ the judge said. ‘You may resume your seat.’

  He inclined his head. ‘Mademoiselle, please approach the bench.’

  Cool as an iceberg, her sister stepped forwards. The clicking of her heels on the wooden floor was the only sound in the otherwise silent courtroom.

  ‘My name is Roisin O’Sullivan,’ she announced.

  ‘I see. And were you in Geneva on the night that the Fire of Autumn was stolen?’

  ‘I was,’ she replied.

  ‘And did you steal the Fire of Autumn?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Do I look like an idiot?’

  A ripple of laughter ebbed around the courtroom and even the staid Arnheim was forced to smile at her audacity.

  ‘The court will rise for a short recess.’

  When the judge left the bench, the courtroom erupted. Sinead scanned the crowd seeking the one person she wanted to see more than anyone else in the world. She thought he had abandoned her, but he hadn’t. How could she have doubted him for a second?

  He stood inside the door of the court, big and solid and so gorgeous that he took her breath away. How had she survived without him?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she mouthed the words to him. ‘I do love you.’

  Ignoring the guards, Niall forced his way to the front of the room and took her in his arms. His mouth found hers in a rough kiss. He was unshaven. His hair had escaped its bindings and he smelled of rain and leather. She held on tightly, ignoring the voices around them, focusing only on his kiss and the strength of his arms around her. She didn’t need words to tell him that she had missed him and that she never wanted to be parted from him again.

  A cough interrupted their reunion. Andy. Sinead extricated herself from Niall’s arms and hugged him.

  ‘Thank you so much for everything you’ve done and for finding my sister.’

  Andy scowled over at Roisin who was sitting, still wearing her sunglasses, looking every inch the diva.

  ‘She’s quite a handful. If I had my way she’d –’

  ‘Just keep an eye on her,’ Niall said. ‘Don’t let her out of your sight for a second. Cuff her if necessary.’

  Andy smiled. ‘Now that would be my pleasure.’
>
  ‘All rise,’ the clerk barked out the order and silence was restored as the judge took his place on the bench.

  Niall moved into the row of seats behind her while Andy pushed Roisin ahead of him into a row of seats in the opposite aisle.

  ‘On the basis of the evidence presented today, it appears that I must dismiss the charges against Mlle Sinead O’Sullivan.’

  Niall rested his hand on her shoulder and she squeezed his broad fingers gratefully. Sinead closed her eyes. The nightmare was over.

  35

  Like a scene from a movie, the courtroom erupted. Sinead raised her arm as she tried to defend herself against the flashing cameras, but eventually gave up. As Niall and Andy fought a fruitless battle to keep the reporters back, her cousin Summer fought her way to the front of the crowd.

  ‘Oh, Sinead.’ She threw her arms around her. ‘I knew you didn’t do it.’

  ‘Of course she didn’t feckin do it.’ Tim O’Sullivan appeared behind his daughter. ‘But your grandmother is having forty-seven fits about that dancing lark. Those damn photographers and hacks have shown up on her doorstep.’

  Great. Now the whole of Castletownberehaven knew she was a stripper.

  ‘Yes, you dark horse.’ Summer poked her in the arm. ‘And I thought I was the wild one. You were supposed to be going to ballet lessons.’

  ‘I um –’

  Tim looked around him. ‘Where’s the other one? We need to have a chat about her.’

  ‘Roisin? She’s here somewhere.’ Sinead looked around the crowd and caught a glimpse of a mane of titian hair disappearing through a doorway at the back of the courtroom. Surely her sister wouldn’t try to escape through the judge’s chambers?

  ‘Mlle O’Sullivan.’ Sinead felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to find her lawyer was waiting.

  Arnheim was wearing a broad smile. He blushed when Sinead planted a kiss on his cheek.

  ‘How did you know that Moutier would pick Roisin and not me?’

  ‘I didn’t. We had a fifty-fifty chance. Sometimes a lawyer needs a little luck. There is some paperwork to be tidied up in the registrar’s office when you are ready. I will send you my bill tomorrow.’ He inclined his head and disappeared into the crowd.

  Ouch. She hadn’t thought about the bill. Her team of Swiss lawyers had probably cost a pretty penny and there was no way that she could expect Tim to pay for them. She had already cost him a million francs and would never forgive herself for that.

  Niall handed her an iPhone. ‘Go ahead, do what you have to do. I’ll wait for you outside. Text me when you’re done.’

  She hadn’t known that the paperwork would take so long. Even though she was no longer on trial, the Swiss made it more difficult to get out of custody than into it. She pulled the phone Niall had given her from her pocket.

  She texted him, ‘I’m done.’

  A second later, the screen lit up. ‘I’m outside.’

  She closed her eyes with relief and smiled. When she emerged from the court building it was already dusk. Ignoring the flashing cameras, she climbed into the back of the dark Jeep and was dragged into his arms.

  ‘Drive, Andy,’ Niall said before he plundered her mouth with his. She wound her arms around his neck, stretching against the confines of the seat belt. He tasted so good. Like mint and warmth and Niall. Opening her mouth wider, she tangled her tongue against his, revelling in the flood of sensations that washed over her.

  A guttural noise came from his throat and his fingers moved through her hair until he found the offending clasp that held it in place and tossed it to the floor. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Remind me to get locked up more often.’ She gave him a teasing smile.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Niall said.

  Andy cleared his throat. ‘So, what will it be for your first night of freedom? A bar, a club, I’ve heard there’s a good burlesque place that –’

  ‘No,’ they both chorused and Sinead laughed. She’d had enough trouble with Lottie and she wasn’t sure if Granny O’Sullivan or Uncle Tim would ever forgive her for that one.

  Sinead stroked Niall’s thigh, savouring the feel of the rock-hard muscles beneath her palm. She couldn’t seem to stop touching him. His grey eyes narrowed into that molten stare she knew so well. She wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight. The thought of being in his bed again made her giddy. She gave him her best Lottie pout. ‘You know what I’d really like?’

  His warm hand covered hers, ‘I can just imagine.’

  ‘A bath,’ she announced.

  Weeks of pent up frustration showed in his face. He was so easy to tease, it was almost a sin.

  ‘A bath,’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes. I haven’t had one since Paris. It was the one thing I dreamed about while I was in prison – a nice warm, deep bath, with a glass of something chilled. Oh, and a book.’

  ‘A book?’

  ‘Sounds like a fun night.’ Andy snorted with laughter and Niall darted a warning look at him.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure …’

  ‘I’m certain.’

  Andy pulled up outside the hotel and they climbed out of the car. Niall held onto her hand tightly as they entered the lobby, as if he was afraid she would disappear again.

  ‘Wait here, I have to check my messages,’ he said. He let her go reluctantly.

  Sinead watched the receptionist tilt her head to one side and then begin to write, raising her head from time to time, before finally nodding.

  Niall returned and pressed the button, summoning the elevator.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.

  There was enough anticipation in his answering smile that she became a little wary. What was the Viking up to now?

  The penthouse suite was sumptuous. Sinead crossed the room and opened the glass doors that led onto a terrace. She didn’t care that it was freezing. It was wonderful to be outside again, to breathe the clean frosty air into her lungs. She stared at the lights of the city twinkling like stars below them. A giant Christmas tree stood in the middle of a square. She was free and she still couldn’t quite believe it.

  Niall followed her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her against his chest. ‘Don’t get cold.’

  She rested her head against his shoulder and tilted her head, inviting his kiss. ‘How could I, when I have you?’

  The sound of a buzzer shattered the moment and Niall released her. ‘That will be room service.’

  She smiled as three uniformed women entered the room. One carried a pile of fluffy towels, another held a tray with a bottle of sake and some tiny ceramic cups, and a third, wearing a beautician’s uniform, deposited a box on the table and left. Next came room service with a tray of chilled melon and lychees, and two pairs of chopsticks.

  They were gone as swiftly as they had arrived and Niall gave her a smug smile. ‘I believe it’s time for your bath.’

  She watched from the doorway as he filled the tub, testing the water to make sure it was the perfect temperature before adding some of the oils from the beautician’s box. Rose, geranium and the tang of eucalyptus filled the steamy air.

  ‘Won’t you come in?’

  Obediently, she entered the room and began to unbutton her blouse.

  ‘Let me do that.’ His words were a command, rather than a statement, and she stood perfectly still as he removed her clothing. Niall took his time, stroking her skin as he removed each piece, kneeling before her to remove her shoes, until she was naked before him.

  He planted a light kiss on her belly and reluctantly came to his feet. ‘Climb in. I’m going to bathe you.’

  She stood in the warm water, staring up at him. Without the added advantage of height from her heels, she felt tiny and vulnerable before him. It wasn’t fair. He was still fully clothed and she had missed the touch of his skin against hers. His mouth quirked. She had meant to tease him, but the Viking was going to drive her crazy.

  ‘What if I said I wanted t
o go to bed and make out like rabbits?’

  ‘Too late. You only get one wish.’

  He scooped up water in his large hand and poured it slowly over her skin before taking a washcloth and immersing it in the warm water. No inch of her body was spared as he gently washed her, arms first, then around her neck, sliding the warm cloth down her back and between her breasts, never quite giving her the touch that she needed.

  Her nipples formed aching points but Niall ignored them. Maddeningly, he turned his attention to her legs, focusing on her feet before sliding the warm cloth upwards again. His attentions were slow and deliberate. He was touching her, but not the way she wanted. If he didn’t kiss her soon, she would scream.

  He gestured for her to sit in the bath and left the room. She really was going to kill him. When he returned, he was carrying the tray of sake and fruit.

  She raised her hand to take one of the cups and he frowned. ‘No touching the food.’

  Using the chopsticks, he picked up small bites of fruit and fed them to her one by one. He raised a cup of sake to her mouth, allowing her only tiny sips. She relaxed. She was actually beginning to enjoy this.

  As if he had read her mind, he placed his hands into the ice bucket. She winced. He wouldn’t. She would kill him if he put ice on her. Instead, he used the ice to cool his fingers and placed them on her nipples. The jolt of cold against her skin made her yelp.

  ‘Had enough yet?’

  The smug smile was back. It was time to turn the tables on him. ‘Not quite. I seem to be missing a bath toy. Do you know where I might find one?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  Niall peeled off his clothes with deliberate slowness, toeing off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt and shedding it to reveal his muscular chest. If anything, he was more ripped than before.

  ‘Been working out, soldier?’ she teased him.