As tonight is a special occasion, I’d hoped to dress up, but city satin seems out of place here. Luckily I have the perfect solution. In one of the workshops I’d lingered to watch an elderly woman knitting lace. Her fingers flickered over the needles as a whisper-soft cobweb of filigree lace grew across her lap.
Aria explained that she’s an islander. She applies her traditional skills to imported raw silk yarns. Her work is beautiful and unique. The commune sells it on to the big fashion houses to be made up into wedding dresses and peignoirs.
I touched it gently. “How beautiful. It feels like air.”
The woman looked up, pleased. Her piercing blue eyes twinkled as I turned away. At the door Aria called me back. “Aileen wants to know if you’d like some to wear.”
I smiled at her, surprised.
“Ye’re with young Cade, are ye not? Then if you like, ye might try yon gown. As a gift. Only if ye want it, mind.”
Near her on a dress dummy was a delicate gown just finished, clearly a showpiece. It was a vibrant, sunshine yellow—the natural color of raw unbleached silk. It swirled to the ground, light as flower petals.
With a smile, Aria looked me over. “Would you like to try it? All our garments are bias-cut, so it’ll stretch when it’s on. The color should suit you. Honey-colored skin looks good in golds.”
I blushed and thanked Aileen, who turned back to her work with a calm smile.
The gown was waiting for me when we got back, neatly wrapped in white tissue. Now I shake it out and slip it over my head. It’s so light I can hardly feel it. It loops from one shoulder, clings all the way down my body so the close patterns close up to spare my blushes then it swirls free of my legs and feet, letting the light shine through so it seems to sparkle.
Cade eyes me appreciatively as I pirouette before him.
“Can I wear it? Would it be suitable?” I’m anxious not to appear too dressy.
He tilts up my chin and kisses me on the mouth. “It’s perfect. You look almost as beautiful in it as you will when you’re out of it.”
* * * *
When we join the others I’m surprised to see almost everyone’s dressed up. It seems Izzy likes holding court. Aria stays close to him and from time to time he gives her a fond look or absently touches her hair.
Food, wine and beer are all laid out in another room and many couples are already dancing. Aileen glances up with a delighted smile as I walk in.
“Ah niver get to see them on,” she murmurs sadly, as I twirl before her to show it off. “They all go abroad, ye ken. You look lovely.”
While I’m talking to Aileen, I see Aria glance across at me and whisper to Cade.
I feel uneasy. It occurs to me she might be making some snide remark about the fit of the jewelry. As he smiles back at her, I’m convinced of it, but when she comes over, she surprises me.
“I just checked with Cade, and he says I can ask. Would you dance for us, Tunis?”
He gives me an encouraging smile. I wait serenely while Aria makes some kind of announcement and clears the floor.
After a brief whispered discussion about music, she surprises me again, and Barney walks over with a grin and waves some panpipes.
“Allow me.”
Impromptu dance is always tricky, but dancers are sensitive to atmosphere, and I’ve soaked up enough here to fill me with ideas for months. As the candles flicker round the edges of the room and the guests all sink onto cushions and lean against the walls to watch, Barney’s panpipes send out fluting ripples of harmony and I start to move.
This place is beautiful and wild so some of my movement is, too. Sometimes it sparkles or grows dark, so I show that as well. As I dance, I think of our walk along the beach and the endless swell and beat of the sea. I think of surges and beats of my own. I think of love and despair.
And somehow all these thoughts fuse into movement. And at last I sink slowly to the floor in a full dancer’s pose, my legs in the splits and my body curved low over my outstretched arms, and my hands flutter gently to a halt at Cade’s feet.
The room explodes into applause and I smile round, a little bewildered and only now aware how quiet it was before.
The heat in Cade’s smile is really all the applause I need.
* * * *
As it grows late, we relax together over wine and beer and the candles burn low. The sea whispers in the distance while Izzy talks about the old times—the groups, the hits and the gossip. He’s funny and well informed, his easy drawl soothing and hypnotic.
Cade draws me onto his lap and holds me tight. I feel almost more intimate with him here, in front of his extended family of hippies, than I do when we’re alone.
Much later, when we finally are alone, he takes me in his arms. “You were a sensation. Now we’ll give some of the jewelry a workout.”
He fastens sturdy silver-mounted leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles then holds up a glittering pair of nipple clamps, shaped like flowers and linked by a diamond-studded chain. “These should make life interesting.”
With an impatient sweep, he strips the quilt off the mattress and signals I should stand between the carved wooden posts at the end. He clips my wrists and ankles to the top and bottom of the posts, spreading my legs wider than usual until our hips are roughly in line then he produces a newer version of the whisker gag and smiles as he slips the soft silver ball behind my teeth and fixes the clasp. “It’ll be dawn soon. No need to wake everybody.”
I’m languid from all the sea air but still hyper from my dance. This is just what I need. Arousal starts to pulse, its drumbeat calling all my nerve-endings into urgent service.
He cups my breasts in his hands, teasing my nipples into hard points then slips on the clamps. Once more the clamps are screws, so he tightens them slowly until I gasp then kisses me on the hair. “Ready?”
Leaning down, he fastens his mouth between my legs and I feel the glorious sweep of his tongue. The pleasure is so intense I almost sob but manage only to mewl against the merciless gag.
He ignores me as he feasts. But just as I think I’ll explode with pleasure, his hot, thrusting tongue abandons me and he stands slowly upright, his look drinking in my navel, my belly and my glittering, clamped breasts. As he towers over me, he flicks the chain linking my imprisoned nipples and at the same moment flicks his fingers deep between my legs.
My orgasm explodes in a blast of silent heat, flaring through me in a surge of power. I buck and jerk in my bonds as he holds me close. And at last he stands fully upright and I hear the blissful rip of foil. After a moment he fastens both his arms around me and in seconds he slides into me. He takes me in long, deep thrusts, his wide, fond smile filling me with joy until he comes, too.
* * * *
Out on the airfield the following morning, Barney, Izzy and Aria come out to see us off. While Cade and Izzy clap each other in the back, hearty and male, Aria kisses me on the cheek. “You must come back soon.” She leans forward to whisper. “And that dance was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. You must teach me.”
This time the jet flies due south. I watch the towns and fields roll away beneath us as we head into the sun. When I ask where we’re going and why, Cade is vague. He says only that we’re headed for Southern Europe and we refuel at Heathrow.
After Heathrow, I learn that his father vacations in style.
We come in to land over another sparkling sea, just as blue as the waters around Millin Island. But the helipad on the vast, gleaming yacht and the blast of warm air as we step out of the air-conditioned bubble of the plane welcome us to a very different world.
In the summer the resorts around the Black Sea teem with tourists but this vast, solitary yacht, anchored a little way off the coast, teems with a population of its own, all designer beachwear and glossy suntans.
We’re a long way from Millin’s easy-going hippies. This is a very exclusive place.
Cade leads me down to the bridge, where uniformed crewmembers murmur to each other in Russian and English. A handsome, suntanned man with wavy white hair and the smooth air of an American politician is talking with the Captain. He turns and hails us with a polished smile.
He’s immaculately dressed in blazer, white trousers and a cravat. He gives Cade a brief nod then bows low over my hand.
Cade grins as he introduces me. His manner seems casual but I sense a hint of reserve. He’s not like this with Izzy.
“Tunis Vale, sir. She’s a TV presenter and arts expert. Also a former dancer. Tunis, this is Sir Gerald Fitzlean, DSO and Bar and fuck knows what else. He’s also my dad.”
Sir Gerald beams at me, holding onto my hand just a fraction too long. “My dear, we’re honored. Leonardo, Pavlova—and Tunis. You are one of the few people in the world known to millions just by the one name—a rare feat for one so young.”
“Cut the crap, Dad. You’ll scare her to death. Anyway, pop stars do it all the time. Is Emmeline with you this year?”
The older man’s face softens. “Yes, she’s around somewhere. Not that I’ve had much of a chance to talk to her. How’s Izaak? Still stuck in the eighties?”
He goes on quickly before Cade can answer. “We’ve got a full ship this week—four film stars, three producers, eight ambassadors and several members of the Politburo and their assorted molls, so you won’t be bored.”
Cade snorts. “With that little lot? I wouldn’t bank on it. Usual cabin?”
His father rolls his eyes at me in a proud ‘What would you do with him?’ kind of way. “No, son. Emmeline upgraded you to the Gorky suite in honor of your fair companion.”
Cade grins. “Fine. So you won’t mind if we go freshen up?”
I hang back as Cade walks toward the stairs for a few words with the crew. “I’m delighted to meet you, Sir Gerald. Cade’s told me about you, but very little about everybody else. He’s very secretive.”
He smiles, his look, like his handshake earlier, just a little too warm. “Ah. Well he has a great deal on his mind just now. But I understand you were a dancer? How interesting.”
We talk for a few moments about my former career while he lists some of the guests on board who are apparently looking forward to meeting me. At last I turn away and a respectful attendant leads me to our quarters.
As I walk into the spacious cabin, Cade’s on the phone, looking out over the deck to the sea.
“So when’s their deadline? You’re sure about that? Fine. I’ll deal with it.”
He seems unaware that I’m here. As I watch, he runs his hand through his hair, exasperated. “Fran, I don’t know how. I said I’ll deal with it, okay?”
At that moment he catches sight of me. He ends the call and slips the phone in his pocket and for a few seconds he looks at me like I’m a complete stranger.
“How long have you been listening?”
I feel a chill steal through me. Something’s happened, something serious. “I just got here. I was talking to your father. Why? Is something wrong?”
He looks away, his tone remote. “That rather depends. Let’s go meet some of the others.”
Now what?
Chapter Twenty-Five
I have to freshen up after the flight. When I peek out of the shower, he’s already gone, so I take my time to change and fix my hair. When I wander up on deck, the sun is setting in a haze of opal and rose, the sea mirror-calm, as reflective as oil.
I weave my way through the elegant guests and finally spot Cade leaning against the rail, lonely as a classical statue, his perfect profile etched against the brilliance of the sky.
I feel a rush of longing so acute my heart races. All at once the rift between us seems urgent and dangerous, but I’ve still no idea what it is.
As I draw near, he glances at me, his look still cold and turns away to gaze out over the sea. “What exactly did Macallan say the morning we left?”
My stomach gives a jolt. “I can’t do anything about it now.”
His look sweeps over me with a chill. “But what did she say?”
“Just that Jake’s seen security footage from the club. He says it proves you weren’t there. Mel thinks you’re covering for someone else.”
Slowly he turns to me, his face cold. “And you? What do you think?”
It’s obvious to me by now that Mel must be right. Surely he knows this.
But I don’t want a fight. I know there’s some mystery here, but I’m starting to wonder if the pain it’s causing him is worth the effort of solving it.
I lean up and kiss him lightly on the jaw. “Well the Panther was there. We all saw him. So for my money, he was in charge that night. But nobody must ever know that was you, right? So you
were
there in one sense. Just
not
there in another. Anyway, I don’t really care.”
He stands very still, his face like stone. After a second a muscle moves in his cheek. “I wish I could believe that.”
But as we join the others, I frown. Mel said the Panther
got there after we did.
He came up behind me. He was out in the rain.
So if Cade—aka the Panther—arrived late, who
was
in charge that night? Who was it made that girl pass out
? And why won’t he simply tell me?
She’s definitely on to something. There must be a cover-up.
* * * *
Sir Gerald’s yacht is the height of luxury. Staff are everywhere, milling among the guests, silently refilling glasses, slipping out of sight as we pass, slipping into our rooms when we leave to smooth beds, tidy stray clothes, freshen flowers and leave chocolates on pillows.
It’s a far cry from the easy hippy-dom of Millin Island. To add to my dismay, Cade seems edgy here. He ignores the small talk around him as the guests mingle, chattering idly about golf and business, or parties and business, or property and business, teasing out common ground as they network.
Some laze by the pool, others are busy at cards and baccarat or watching movies in the elegant salons leading off the deck.
Sir Gerald strolls about like a benign monarch and at last we meet Emmeline, his mistress. She is slim, beautifully groomed and to me she has the hard, wary look of a professional.