She had glimpsed a large, fair-haired man as she sat on the harbour wall and now through the plate-glass window she saw him enter the shop from a rear door. The sight of him made her catch her breath. He was, without doubt, the most amazing specimen of manhood she had ever seen. Pretending to be interested in a rack of swimwear, she studied him covertly, watching through the window as he bent his large frame over the counter to examine a ledger of some kind.
He was tall, well over six feet, and very muscular, although not with the exaggerated development of a body-builder. His superb physique was shown off to best advantage by a pair of well-cut blue denims which he wore with a plain white T-shirt. His whole ensemble was topped off by the most handsome face she had ever seen on a blond-haired man. As a rule she was attracted mainly to those with dark hair and a swarthy complexion but for this man she was prepared to make an exception. She smiled to herself, amused at her own arrogance, perhaps she was not his type.
As if in answer to her thoughts, he looked up and caught her watching him. Quickly she turned her attention to the garment she was holding and to her discomfort noticed it was a brief pair of men’s bikini trunks. Doubly embarrassed, she let go of the offending item and pretended to study a selection of children’s toy windmills instead. On impulse she picked one out and turned to go inside the shop to pay but he was already by her side.
‘You would like to buy this?’ he said.
She didn’t need a degree in modern languages to recognise that he wasn’t English. ‘Yes, please. It’s for my nephew,’ she lied, wondering why she was bothering to explain herself to him. ‘How much?’ She fumbled in her bag for her purse and extracted a pound coin.
Reaching out with one strong arm, he enfolded her hand, coin and all in a vicelike grip. With the other hand he relieved her of the windmill. ‘I will wrap it and get you some change. Just a minute, please.’
His voice had a singsong quality which she recognised as being Scandinavian, although she couldn’t tell which country he came from. By the time he returned she had unearthed a vestige of boldness and found herself staring deep into his twinkling emerald-green eyes.
‘Where do you come from? Is it Sweden?’
He smiled, displaying perfectly even, strong, white teeth. ‘No, Norway. My father, he was Norwegian, a sailor. I am Haldane.’
His tone of voice was proud, indicating to her that he was obviously pleased with his name and his heritage. Smiling back, Hillary accepted the windmill from him and her change. Placing her purchase carefully in her bag and the coins in her pocket, she looked up at him, feeling dwarfed by his massive frame. ‘I expect it was your father who taught you all about boats and things?’ She gestured around the harbour, her sweeping glance taking in the fishing boats and the chandlery items outside his own shop.
Haldane’s eyes followed hers but his expression had clouded over. ‘No, I never actually met him. He went on a sailing trip before I was born and never came back.’
Regretfully Hillary realised that she had said the wrong thing and frantically searched her mind for something less controversial to say. She turned back to Haldane but he had already left her, retreating to the dark interior of his shop. Feeling guilty for upsetting him, Hillary gave a feeble wave through the window. Then she hovered on the pavement outside for a minute or two before turning on her heel and making her way back towards Harwood Hall. She walked away unaware that he stared after her retreating figure until she was well out of sight, a thoughtful expression on his golden face.
By the time she arrived back at the house, Alicia and Chloe were up and about and Odile was seated on the window seat in the sitting room, her face wreathed in smiles.
‘I take it you got through to your boyfriend okay?’ Hillary said, dropping wearily into the nearest armchair. The walk back had seemed much longer and more arduous than the one going.
‘Yes, he is definitely coming this weekend. I’m so happy,’ Odile replied.
‘What’s his name? How long have you known him?’
Odile leaned forwards, a dreamy expression on her face. ‘Well, his name is Theo –’ she pronounced it Tay-oh ‘– and we’ve been seeing each other for five months, one week and four days.’
Hillary laughed and added, ‘But who’s counting?’
She reached for her bag and took out the paper bag containing the windmill, then holding the simple toy in front of her face she blew out a steady stream of warm breath, gazing thoughtfully as the bright colours whirled and merged into a gaudy blur. A moment later she caught Odile watching her and gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I bought it on impulse,’ she explained.
Alicia walked into the room, raised her eyebrows when she saw Hillary holding the windmill but didn’t comment. She had grown used to her sister’s odd behaviour over the years.
Hillary looked up. ‘Oh, I’m glad it’s you, Alix. I was wondering if you’d mind taking me for a proper guided tour? Darius mentioned that some parts of the house are out of bounds so I’d be grateful if you could show me where we can and cannot go.’
‘Of course, we’ll do it now if you like.’ Alicia smiled easily, then glanced at Odile. ‘Would you like to come?’
The younger woman shook her head. ‘No thanks, I just want to sit here and daydream for a while.’
Alicia understood but she couldn’t resist asking her if she minded being in the house alone.
‘Of course not, why should I?’ Odile chuckled, looking more than a little confused at Alicia’s strange remark.
Alicia shrugged. ‘I just wondered, that’s all.’
As soon as they were out of earshot, Hillary repeated Odile’s question. Trying to look nonchalant, Alicia replied, ‘Oh, no reason really. It’s just that –’ She hesitated.
‘Go on,’ urged Hillary.
‘Well,’ Alicia continued, concentrating hard on picking a minute speck of lint from her sleeve, ‘it’s just that for the past few days I’ve been getting the distinct impression that we’re being watched.’ She laughed, her embarrassment only too visible. ‘Chloe thinks I’m going mad from spending so much time in seclusion. Perhaps she’s right.’
Hillary glanced sideways at her sister. Like herself, Alicia had always been prone to flights of fancy. Even as a child her imagination had often got the better of her. Yet this time, Hillary thought, it went deeper than that. For once Alicia seemed genuinely disturbed.
‘I can’t say I’ve noticed anything untoward but then I’ve only been here a short while, less than twenty-four hours in fact.’ Even as Hillary spoke the words, she realised they were not strictly true. But, she reasoned, the night before she had been tired and a little disorientated. What she had imagined was probably no more than the product of a need for sleep; it wasn’t worth mentioning to Alicia or the others.
Her sister nodded and paused to push open a large pair of oak doors that separated their wing from the main house. They had barely walked more than a few paces along the corridor when a young girl appeared. Thin and waiflike she stood pigeon-toed and stared shyly at the two women, a questioning look on her wan face.
‘Hillary, this is Fearn, Darius’s housekeeper.’ Alicia introduced her with an imperious wave of one perfectly manicured hand.
Hillary looked at the young girl, surprised that she should be charged with taking care of such a huge place. She smiled and extended a hand but the girl simply smiled weakly in return and wiped the palms of her hands on her skirt before carrying on silently past them and into a room on the left.
As soon as the girl was out of earshot, Hillary turned to Alicia. ‘How on earth does she cope as the housekeeper here? She hardly looks strong enough to lift a feather duster.’
With a typical lack of concern, her sister shrugged. ‘Who knows? I think a couple of the estate workers’ wives come in to help her.’
Hillary pursed her lips; for some inexplicable reason she couldn’t help feeling concerned for the young girl’s welfare. ‘Does she live here alone as well?’
&nbs
p; Alicia was beginning to feel a little irritated. She couldn’t care less about the hired help. Nevertheless, she knew her sister wouldn’t be satisfied until all her questions had been answered. ‘Don’t forget that Darius lives in this part of the Hall too.’
Hillary hadn’t forgotten. In fact, although she hated to admit it, that was one of the things that concerned her the most.
‘Do you think he and . . .?’ she started, but Alicia interrupted her.
‘No, I don’t. She’s definitely not his type, far too young and unsophisticated for him. And besides,’ she added firmly in a voice that brooked no further questions, ‘Fearn’s brother normally lives with her and before you ask I haven’t met him yet because he’s been spending a few weeks in Scotland with their family apparently.’
Hillary laughed. ‘Okay, I’m satisfied. Now let’s get on with the tour.’
They had come to the end of the corridor and were now standing at the top of a wide mahogany staircase that curved down to a vast entrance hall. Hillary leaned over the banister. It was a very long way down, she noted with a quiver of trepidation, and the black and white marble floor tiles way beneath her looked hard and unforgiving. In her wild imagination she immediately conceived the full horror of falling from the spot where she stood. She shivered and straightened up. ‘Can we explore downstairs?’ she asked.
Alicia shook her head. ‘Not really. At least, not without Darius’s permission first. Apparently everywhere is heavily alarmed and one false move can set the whole lot off. You could ask him though,’ she added, her attention suddenly stolen by the reappearance of Fearn.
‘Your friend says could you come back right now as she’s got a panic on?’ The young girl didn’t say which friend but both Alicia and Hillary immediately understood that she meant Chloe. Odile wasn’t the sort of person to panic.
Alicia nodded her thanks to the young girl and turned to Hillary. ‘I won’t be a minute. She’s probably got fluff in her nail varnish or some other unspeakable calamity,’ she said, grinning.
Hillary smiled. ‘I’ll be okay.’
As soon as Alicia had left, she turned to study a large painting on the wall behind her. It was of a thoroughbred racehorse, its dark glossy coat tinged with creamy froth as though it had just that second finished running a race. Peering closer she found herself unable to recognise the names of either the artist or the horse.
The sound of the swing doors opening and closing told her that Alicia had reached their own quarters. For a few minutes she stood and waited, shifting from one foot to the other, glancing at the racehorse painting from time to time and then finally at her watch. Alicia had been gone for only a few minutes and she was already feeling restless. She looked over the banister again, tempted to walk down the staircase just to see what the ground floor was like. But she daren’t, not if she risked setting off the alarm.
However, she reasoned, after a few more minutes of solitude, Alicia hadn’t warned against continuing to explore the floor that she was on. She considered this for a second, then crossed the landing and continued along the corridor in front of her. Again, the thickly carpeted corridor was lined with doors on either side. Some of them stood wide open affording a good view of the rooms that lay behind. To her surprise, Hillary noticed that most of them were empty or almost empty.
She carried on, trying the handles of some of the closed doors. Some were locked, others opened into comfortably furnished bedrooms similar to those of her own quarters, or small reading rooms, lined with bookcases that sagged under the weight of an interesting mix of old hardbacks and new dog-eared paperbacks.
As a lover of all kinds of books, she couldn’t resist the temptation to peruse the shelves in one such room. She had just taken down an Agatha Christie first edition when she was startled by the sound of a creaking floorboard directly behind her. Whirling around, she found herself confronted by the imposing figure of Darius Harwood himself. Judging by his expression he was not pleased to see her there.
3
Despite the heat of the mid-summer’s day, Hillary suddenly felt very cold.
‘I believe I mentioned that the main Hall was out of bounds?’ His voice was polite but firm and she found herself quaking under his piercing stare.
‘I . . . I . . . um . . . Alicia . . .’ She tried desperately to explain but couldn’t find her voice. Her knees trembled and, without considering that it might anger him further, she sank onto the nearest chair. It was a mistake, she realised, now he looked even more imposing and she felt all the more disadvantaged.
Darius stared down at her, conscious that had she explored much further she might have stumbled upon his secret rooms. He took a step forwards, placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face upwards to look at him. His breath caught because her expression told him she wasn’t frightened of him, she was too strong a woman for that. Nevertheless, she did look distinctly unnerved.
Hillary tried to stare at him boldly but knew she was failing miserably. Her heart hammered in her chest and she wished she could simply melt away, anything to avoid his arrogant presence in front of her. As he took a step forwards, she fought an overwhelming urge to shrink away from him into the deeper recesses of the overstuffed, antique armchair. She didn’t believe he would do anything to harm her yet she felt distinctly threatened. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, knotting her stomach and quickening her pulse. And, when he touched her beneath her chin, she felt as though she had been hit by a bolt of lightning.
Unwillingly she looked up at him, conscious of the fact that his crotch was a few inches away from her face and the intriguing bulge beneath the light cotton of his trousers exuded a faint musky scent that aroused her most primitive instincts. Fight or flight – faint or fuck. She still had a choice. Using every ounce of self-control she rose to her feet, standing ramrod straight so close to him that she could feel the heat from their bodies interact. Her mouth felt dry and she licked her lips, not taking her eyes away from his for a second.
Somewhere in the house a clock ticked remorselessly, counting away the seconds as they stared at each other and fought a silent battle of wills in which neither one could be the victor.
He moved his hand and, sliding his fingers around her neck until his palm cupped the base of her skull, pulled her face towards his until their lips clashed. Stunned by the sudden violence of his action, she stood stock still, on tiptoe, her arms straight by her sides as she allowed his tongue to plunder her mouth. She could feel the heat rising within her, suffusing her body with a force of passion she had never known before.
Suddenly, she felt as though she yearned to know this man in every sense of the word and wanted him to discover her. Instinctively she felt that now she had allowed him entry into her mind there would be no turning back, events would take their course and sooner or later he would possess her completely. It was a scary thought.
She shivered, half of her wanting to pull away, to stop things in their tracks, the other half wanting to press herself against his hard unyielding torso, using her body to communicate the things she dare not speak aloud. Conscious of his body heat permeating her flesh and turning it to molten lava, her mind whirled. Should she stay or should she go?
The decision was taken away from her. In a single movement his free hand spanned her buttocks and pulled her towards him until she could feel his hardness pressing against her lower belly. He held her firmly, his lips and hands now both pinning her. For the first time in her life she felt helpless in the presence of a man, trapped like a rare butterfly. Her knees sagged and she felt her arms moving from her sides and encircling his body, her palms resting flat against the unyielding hardness of his back and shoulders.
Then, just as suddenly, from somewhere in the house a door opened and closed and voices could be heard – clipped female voices. It was Alicia and Chloe. Abruptly, he let go of her, releasing her mouth a mite more reluctantly as he took two steps backwards. She continued to stare at him in silence, expecting him to say so
mething. Eventually he did but it was not what she wanted to hear. ‘That was a mistake. I apologise. Please forget it ever happened,’ he said.
She almost laughed aloud. A mistake! Forget it! If only life were that simple. She could no more forget what had happened than walk on water. He must want me, she thought, we weren’t play-acting just then. With a flash of inspiration she glanced down at his crotch, yes, he was still hard. She looked back up at him and smiled knowingly but he stared straight through her, looking over her shoulder at their reflections in the mirror that dominated the room.
At that moment, Alicia and Chloe poked their heads through the open doorway. ‘Oh, there you are, Hillary. We’ve been looking high and low for you.’ Alicia sounded genuinely relieved. She turned to Darius. ‘I hope my sister hasn’t been doing anything she shouldn’t.’
Hillary would have been annoyed at such a patronising remark but given the circumstances she found it rather amusing.
Darius shook his head. ‘Of course not, we were merely discussing literature.’ He glanced at the book Hillary had dropped onto the chair. ‘Agatha Christie, as a matter of fact.’
Alicia shrugged. ‘I didn’t know you were a fan of hers, Hills, you always complain when I want to watch it on TV. Oh, only at Christmas that is,’ she hastened to add for Darius’s benefit, or perhaps for Chloe’s.
Hillary smiled fondly, her sister was such a snob sometimes.
The four of them left the room, Darius shutting the door carefully behind them and following them as far as the staircase. Just to make sure they didn’t decide to do any more exploring, he mused to himself.
The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Page 4