Leaving the bedroom, she went downstairs to the garden floor, and the cosy dining room that opened onto the garden. She had phoned Carla earlier to ask her to set the small circular table for supper for two, and the housekeeper had done so before going home.
Linnet nodded to herself as she glanced around, pleased with the blue and white colour scheme, and her favourite antique pieces that fitted so well in here. Buying the house and decorating it had kept her busy after Julian’s sudden death, and had helped her to cope.
And the house had been a new beginning…as tonight was going to be a new beginning…
Linnet looked at the carriage clock on the living-room mantelpiece. It said five forty. Twenty minutes to wait before Simon arrived. She had come home from the store far too early, and now she didn’t know quite where to put herself.
She rose, walked across the room, straightened a silk cushion on the dark rose-coloured sofa, wandered out into the foyer, saw her holdall, took it upstairs to her den on the next floor.
Seating herself at the desk, she looked at yesterday’s mail, dismissed it as not important, stood again, and walked over to the window. After looking down into the street, she went back downstairs, feeling nervous, expectant and just a little afraid.
Her mind entirely focused on Simon, she suddenly wondered what he would prefer to drink tonight and flew into the kitchen to look in the refrigerator. There was a bottle of white wine chilling as usual, and now she added pink champagne and some bottles of water, and noticed to her surprise that her hands were shaking.
God, what’s wrong with me? she wondered, realizing that her heart had started to pound and that she was on tenterhooks. And all because of Simon Baron. Whom she had known for donkey’s years and saw every day at work. But it was different now. Because she had kissed him in the cab and he had kissed her back, and they had confessed they were keen on each other, more than keen. And on the way back to the store, after lunch with Jack, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. Nor had she. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, hold him…possess him…and be possessed by him.
The doorbell shrilled, and she jumped, startled. Linnet glanced at her watch, and saw that it was ten minutes to six. He was early. Trying to keep herself as calm as possible, she walked to the front door, looked through the spy-hole and saw that it was Simon.
Opening the door, smiling, she said, ‘Hi,’ and stopped because her mouth had gone totally dry.
‘Hi,’ he said back, and stepped into the hall.
Linnet closed the door and turned to face him, shaking so much inside she was convinced he would notice.
‘I’m sorry I’m early,’ Simon murmured. ‘But, well, er, er, well, I couldn’t wait to get here, to see you.’
Linnet stood leaning against the front door, staring at him, thinking how wonderful he looked. He had dispensed with the tie he always wore to work, and looked more casual and relaxed in his open-necked pale blue shirt. She wanted to make love to him. Her mouth was drier than ever.
He cleared his throat, appeared anxious.
She finally spoke. ‘I know, I was the same. I came home far too early…’ Her voice trailed off. She took a step forward, and then another, and so did he. Suddenly they were rushing into each other’s arms. His mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her with passion, pressing her close to his body. His tongue touched hers, and she clung to him, wondering how she was managing to stand; her legs felt weak and she was trembling.
Against her hair, he murmured softly, ‘It was unbearable this afternoon…I wanted you so much.’
‘It was mutual.’ Drawing away from him, she took his hand, led him into the living room, asking him what he wanted to drink, speaking in a mumble.
‘Nothing right now,’ he replied. ‘I just want to hold you in my arms and kiss you.’ As he spoke they half sat, half fell onto the sofa together, and she reached for him, drew closer to him, and their mouths met again. His hand was in her hair, on her cheek, touching her neck, and then he slipped it under her sweater, unhooked her bra, stroked and fondled her breast.
Linnet could hardly breathe. Every part of her ached for him, longed for him. She wanted his hands on her everywhere, touching, feeling, probing; she longed to touch him, needed the feel of his skin under her hands. Her face was growing hotter and hotter; she was flushed, excited, and the heat suddenly was spreading up through her legs into the pit of her stomach. Then, unexpectedly, he pushed her sweater up, and brought his mouth to her breast, lavishly kissing her until she let out a small moan of pleasure.
Simon stopped abruptly, and said, ‘Let’s find a bed…please.’
Pulling down her sweater, Linnet jumped up, took hold of his hand and drew him across the room to the front hall and into her bedroom.
Simon closed the door, leaned against it, took her face between his hands and stared into her eyes. But he remained silent and so did she.
Their clothes were swiftly discarded, and they lay together on the bed, still staring at each other, touching each other’s faces. But a moment later they were kissing again, and his passion for her soared. And soared. They found themselves clutching each other; their mutual yearning knew no bounds. When Simon finally entered her, and swiftly so, Linnet caught her breath, and so did he. And as he moved against her, saying her name over and over again, she did the same, and she gave herself to him entirely.
Simon pulled her into his arms and brought the duvet up over them, and they did not speak for a while, lost as they were in their own meandering thoughts.
Eventually he murmured, ‘I could stay like this forever…I feel as if I have the whole world in my arms.’
‘That’s a lovely thing to say. And I have the man of my dreams in my bed.’
‘Can he stay?’
‘Tonight?’
‘Yes, tonight, and perhaps other nights,’ Simon replied.
‘Just try and leave!’ she exclaimed.
He laughed; she had always had the ability to bring a smile to his face. ‘What I meant was: can I stay the whole night, and have breakfast with you tomorrow?’
‘If you really, really want to, I’ll consider it.’
His answer was to wrap his arms around her tighter, and nuzzle the back of her neck. After a moment or two, he said, ‘Isn’t life amazing, Linnet? Just imagine, if that car hadn’t come too close to the cab, the cabbie wouldn’t have swerved—’
‘I was just thinking that earlier,’ she interrupted, laughing.
‘But it goes backwards, actually,’ Simon went on. ‘Because if you hadn’t asked Jack if you could join us for lunch, we’d never have been in that cab in the first place.’
‘I’ll confess something to you, Simon. I wanted to come to lunch because of you, because I wanted to be with you, sitting close to you…’
‘We’ve been a couple of fools, considering we’re grown-ups,’ he asserted.
‘Yes, we have. But sometimes timing is important, and the time is right for me, Simon. For you to be in my life.’
‘I’m so glad to hear that. And it is for me, too.’
‘Are you…free?’ she asked softly, and wanted to add, to be mine, but resisted the temptation.
He said, ‘I broke up with someone almost a year ago and there’s been nobody since…but I don’t know that I’m free.’
Linnet struggled in his arms, and turned around to face him. ‘What does that mean?’ she asked, her expression fierce.
‘Don’t look like that! What I meant is that I’m not free because I’m so involved with you, Linnet. I don’t suppose I’ll ever be free again.’
‘And neither will I,’ she said, touching his face lovingly.
Linnet stood staring at her wedding photograph, which was on a chest in the living room, her throat tight with emotion. What she saw was herself gazing into Julian’s face, he into hers. It was a marvellous picture of them both, taken at Pennistone Royal. For a moment she felt sad, but she had to let sadness go. She must.
There was a sli
ght noise, and she straightened, swung around. Simon was standing in the doorway of the living room, hesitating, obviously not wanting to intrude. She forced a smile, and said swiftly, ‘Simon, don’t stand there, darling. I came in here to turn on some lamps, and noticed my wedding picture as I passed the chest. We weren’t married very long before he died so suddenly; but, as you know, we’d grown up together…’ She stopped, wondering why she was explaining. He knew about her life.
Simon nodded, walked into the room. He took hold of her arm and led her over to the sofa. As they sat down he said quietly, ‘You were childhood sweethearts. I understand how you feel, Linnet. At least I think I do…it’s hard to let go, in a way.’
‘How perceptive you are,’ she murmured, looking up into his face, noticing his grey-blue eyes now looked bluer, a reflection of his shirt, she decided.
‘You spent most of your life with him,’ Simon remarked, ‘and he’s part of you. He’s deep in your heart, and he always will be, I realize that. No one can, or should, completely erase the past, especially if it was a happy past, and memories are very important, Linnet. You loved Julian, you were married to him, and naturally it’s going to seem…well, perhaps a bit strange…being with me.’
‘I know what you mean,’ she answered. ‘But oddly enough, it doesn’t seem strange. I feel very at ease with you, natural, comfortable, and that’s because I’ve known you so long…and I trust you, Simon, feel safe with you.’
‘You can, and you are. I’ll always look after you,’ he answered, his sincerity apparent. ‘I just need to say this: I don’t think you should suppress your feelings about Julian because of me, or attempt to hide them from me. You have your memories and you should cherish them. Look, we’re both in our thirties, bringing lots of baggage to this relationship, i.e. our pasts, but we mustn’t let that stuff get in the way or cause us problems. Things happened to us before you and I were involved. I wasn’t married to anyone, but I did have a couple of relationships that were meaningful. However, they don’t have anything to do with…us. Nor does your marriage to Julian.’
Simon searched her face, his eyes full of concern, his expression serious. ‘I suppose what I’m trying to say is that what we have together has nothing to do with anyone else or whatever it was we had with them.’
‘I agree with you,’ Linnet was quick to say. ‘And I’d like us to be honest and truthful with each other.’ She leaned closer to him, her eyes focused intently on his. ‘I don’t want to pretend to other people either, pretend we’re not seeing each other. Anyway, it’s nobody else’s business, is it?’
He pulled her towards him, kissed her on the cheek. ‘We are of like minds, Linnet, and I just want to tell you that this is the happiest day of my life, knowing you feel the way I do, and that we’re going to be together.’
‘Oh, you mean this is not a one-night stand?’ she teased, an auburn brow lifting coquettishly.
‘No, it’s not, you little minx!’ he exclaimed, grinning at her. ‘It’s a rest-of-my-life stand, that’s what this is.’
She gave him the benefit of a huge smile.
Simon stood up, pulled her to her feet and started to walk out of the room, saying as he did, ‘Shall we go and make supper? I’m ravenous.’
Linnet caught hold of his hand, stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to look at her, his expression puzzled.
Drawing closer, leaning against him, she said softly, ‘When you saw me earlier, looking at the picture, I wasn’t comparing or anything like that…I was saying goodbye to him…and I know he would be happy for me, Simon…Julian wouldn’t want me to be alone.’
Touched by her words, Simon took her in his arms and held her close, his heart overflowing with love for her.
FORTY-TWO
James Cardigan threw Jack Figg an odd look, a mixture of curiosity and bafflement, and asked, ‘But when you have found Ainsley, what do you actually plan to do, Jack? Kill him?’
Jack looked thoughtful for a minute or two, and then said, with a small wry smile, ‘I don’t think murder in cold blood will be necessary in this instance. There are other things we can do to him…in cold blood.’
A look of eager expectancy flashed across James’s face, and he said, ‘That sounds a bit bloody mysterious to me, Jack. What exactly are you getting at?’ His eyes were riveted on Jack’s face.
‘From the things I told you about Ainsley last week, you now know what makes him tick. I also gave you a list of his weaknesses. Basically he has three: his hatred of Paula and her daughters; his addiction to women who are beautiful and clever but genuine ball-breakers, those women whom he likes to break before they can cut off his cojones; and money. Very big money.’
Jack straightened up in the chair and, staring at James across his Georgian partners desk, he said, ‘I’m going for the money.’
‘Thank God for that! I’d visions of having to get you out of some sweaty, flea-ridden jail somewhere in a mouldering third-world country, but I should have known better. So, before we get to your real plan, why are you so anxious to pinpoint him on the map of the world?’
‘Basically, just to know where he is, James, to find out what he’s doing and get details of his daily activities, his modus operandi, his friends, colleagues, visitors, his routine in general. I want my operatives tailing him, but believe me I’m not going to take him out. I don’t think it’s necessary.’
‘Neither do I. However, if needs be, I do have a handful of skilled guys who’ll do the job for you. They always deliver on a contract.’
‘Thanks, James, and so far we don’t need them. But what we do need are some really brilliant hackers. The genius kind. We might have to hit his computers and in the not-too-distant future, and we want the best chaps available. Maybe my Chinese friends have some contacts.’
‘No problem. Now, a bit of good news. I think I can pinpoint his whereabouts at this moment, at least within a few hundred miles.’
As he spoke, James got up, crossed his private office overlooking Mount Street in London, and pressed a button at the end of the long wall. The sections of mahogany panels slid back to settle at each end, and a battery of television screens were revealed. Pressing a remote control, which he pointed at the TV screens, they instantly came alive. One showed CNN, the next BBC World News, yet another ‘Frost Over The World’ on the Al Jazeera English network; a fourth was an illuminated map of the world, a fifth the world financial markets.
Within a second James brought up Russia on the world map, pinpointed the area of St Petersburg, and turned to Jack. ‘Ainsley is currently in Russia. I’m not sure where exactly, but my Moscow operatives are certain he’s in Peter the Great’s great city of St Petersburg, built on stilts by Peter and named as his new capital in Seventeen twelve.’
‘That’s great!’ Jack said, playing on the repeated word, and beamed at James. ‘I knew I could count on you when we talked last week. You were one of the best damn agents MI6 ever had. Out of curiosity, how come they lost you?’
‘Greed, for one thing. I wanted to make some real money, then get married. And to stay alive to do both,’ James shot back, and grinned. ‘A bit of information from my agent in Zurich, by the way. Angharad Hughes, Ainsley’s wife, owns a villa there, and has since the time of Ainsley’s car crash in France. She obviously lived there then, when he was in the clinic, and still does. Occasionally. The other bit of information I got is that Ainsley has no particular interest in his only child.’
‘No, he wouldn’t. She’s a girl, and he hates girls in business. By that I mean business business, and not shady business, because he does apparently still have a predilection for whores. The pricey ones.’
Jack rose and walked across the room, joined James in front of the screens. ‘This is fabulous. Good to see you have all the up-to-date mod cons.’
James nodded, went on, ‘I got to thinking about my Hong Kong days over the weekend, Jack. I must admit I had a helluva time there, loved every moment of it. Well, almost. And I remember
our nights in the Chinnery bar with Mallory Carpenter. We did have a ball, the best of times. Bachelor days. Well, a lot of water under the bridge since then. And listen, Jack, you’re in good nick, I must say that.’
‘I’m getting old.’
‘No, not old. Older. And an older chap who’s in good nick can still make it with the gels.’
Jack began to laugh, shaking his head. ‘Not so much interested any more. Now, back to business. I want to explain something. It’s about Richie Zhèng, the grandson of Zhèng Wen Li, whom you said you met with Mallory.’
‘Yes, and what about him?’ James probed, filled with sudden eagerness, intrigued by these extraordinary machinations going on around M and her sister Linnet and the Harte family in general.
‘Let’s go and sit on the sofa, and I’ll tell you before M and Linnet get here. It’s an odd story and it goes like this…’ Jack stopped, looked thoughtful and then continued. ‘Wen Li has had a vendetta against Jonathan Ainsley for years, and his grandson Richie positively detests Ainsley. He can’t wait to have his revenge on him because of what Ainsley did to his mother. So—’
‘She was one of Ainsley’s women, was she?’ James interrupted.
‘Sort of, but hold on, my lad, and listen carefully, because I’m also going to tell you my basic plan of action. But it must remain confidential, James. Geo cannot know—’
‘Geo’s in New York, working on additional paintings for her exhibition,’ James cut in swiftly, his eyes not leaving Jack’s face. ‘And you must know I would never reveal anything.’
‘I do. But this has to be top secret, otherwise it won’t work.’
‘I get it, Jack, but you’re going to have trouble with M. She’s very dogged and she won’t let go. She told me yesterday that she wants to go out and look for Ainsley herself, have him arrested.’
Breaking the Rules (2009) Page 37