The Pleasures of Autumn (24 page)

‘I don’t suppose Clara gave you a sword?’ she asked, trying to lighten the tension.

‘If she did, I know where I’d stick it.’

Andy snorted with laughter. ‘Look on the bright side; it covers more than the loincloth.’

‘Keep digging that hole and I’ll be happy to bury you in it.’

Sinead rolled her eyes. They were worse than a pair of two year olds. ‘You have half an hour to get ready. I suggest you hit the shower. Andy, you better change into your chauffeur’s outfit. You get to be my servant for the weekend.’

Ninety minutes later, they were waved through the tall iron gates of the mansion near Ville D’Avray. Sinead reached for Niall’s hand. It was too late to turn back.

He squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll be fine. Don’t sweat it. We’ll stay in the background, ask a few discreet questions and get out as soon as possible. It’s only a few weirdoes dressed up like plonkers.’

Andy’s snort of laughter could be heard from the driver’s seat. ‘Like you, you mean? I’d give my next pay cheque to see you wearing that outfit in public.’

‘Keep that up and you might not be getting one.’

Sinead could feel the tension thrumming through him. The winding entrance road led through a screen of trees. The house was well concealed from prying eyes. Around the next bend, a gravelled forecourt was lit with lights strung through the branches of mature trees. Several limousines were parked outside, their drivers sharing banter and cigarettes.

‘Here we are.’ Andy pulled up at the entrance and hurried to open the rear door for them.

Niall released her hand. ‘Ready?’

She managed a nervous smile. Her stomach was churning and she wasn’t sure if it was the prospect of meeting her sister or getting the stone back. Or both.

When this was over, there would be no excuse for them
to be together. Niall would go his way and she would go back to her old life. The prospect made her spirits plummet. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

She accepted Niall’s hand as she climbed out of the car and her heel wobbled momentarily on the stones beneath her feet.

‘I’ve got you,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s just a party.’

Andy opened the trunk and unpacked the bags containing their costumes and a few items he had purchased in the sex shop. Sinead closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was show time and she had never felt so nervous before a performance.

The door to the mansion opened. A footman wearing a striped waistcoat descended the stone steps and took their bags from Andy. Niall moved to follow him and Sinead raised an eyebrow at his audacity. Chastened, he remembered his role as her slave and waited for her direction.

‘This way, Madame.’ The footman led the way into the house.

Sinead paused in the doorway, tempted to whistle. The black and white marble tiled floor was original, as were the array of mirrored doors leading in all directions. An unending series of reflections greeted them, her red hair cascading over the dark evening cloak that Andy had picked up in a local flea market, and Niall, tight lipped and serious, in a dark suit.

‘Red! Darling. It’s been far too long.’

The perfectly-coiffed blonde hairstyle matched the cultured Parisian accent. She was stick thin. The slanted cast
around her eyes and slightly widened mouth was a clue to her surgeon’s expertise. She might have been a well-preserved forty but was probably closer to sixty.

Would she recognize her as a fake? Could she pass for her sister? She worked to keep her French as perfect as possible.

‘Darling.’ Sinead air-kissed her cheeks. This could only be Hermione.

‘I haven’t seen you since Stockholm, or was it Helsinki?’ She looked at Sinead expectantly.

Sinead stared blankly at her. Apparently her sister got around. She had a fifty-fifty chance of getting this one right. ‘Wasn’t it Stockholm at the …’

Hermione clapped her hands. ‘Of course, George’s party. Silly me. You did that fabulous routine with two subs.’

Apparently her sister had some pretty extreme tastes.

Hermione eyed Niall openly and ran an expert hand along his upper arm. ‘He’s new. Nice looking brute. But then you always did have good taste.’

She gave Sinead a perfectly even smile that did not crease the skin at her eyes. ‘I look forward to seeing you put him through his paces.’

The door opened again and Hermione prepared to welcome her next guest. ‘Your room is on the second floor. Philippe will show you. I’ll see you in the salon when you’ve changed.’

Dismissed, they followed the footman up the wide staircase. One entire wall was painted with a mural of a heroic battle scene.

‘Battle of Ulm,’ Niall informed her. ‘Karl Mack von
Leiberich, or General Mack as he was known, Commander of the Austrian forces. He surrendered to Napoleon, along with thirty thousand men.’

From the hallway below came the sound of another party of guests arriving.

‘This way, Madame.’ The footman was anxious to return to his duties and they followed him up another flight of stairs and along a carpeted hallway to a door at the very end. He opened the door with a flourish.

The room was large and filled with antique furniture. An enormous upholstered Corbeille bed was set beneath a gilded mirror. The picture windows were framed with heavy damask curtains. Outside, she caught a glimpse of an azure swimming pool surrounded by trees strung with lights. The faint tinkle of a piano carried on the air.

‘Will that be all, Madame?’ asked the footman.

‘
Merci
.’ She smiled her thanks at him and he departed.

Niall whistled. ‘Nice bed. And the mirror is tilted at the perfect angle for –’

‘Don’t get any ideas. We’re here to find my sister.’

Niall shrugged and loosened his tie. ‘We better get changed. It looks like the party is already started.’

He unbuttoned his shirt and placed it on the back of a chair before going to his bag. The leather skirt looked impossibly small in his hands and Sinead was tempted to laugh. He unpacked the complicated array of leather armour that would conceal most of the damage to his back. The rest she would have to cover with make-up.

Niall frowned. ‘You’ll have to help me with this.’ He pulled it on, cursing at the number of buckles and double rings. ‘Give me a Kevlar vest any day.’

Sinead dropped her cape on the bed before she helped Niall to adjust the straps of his costume and stood back to admire her work. ‘There. Once you lose the pants and put on the sandals, you’ll be fine. Don’t be shy.’

His scowl told her she was skating on thin ice. Niall toed off his shoes and turned his back to her while he unzipped his pants and stepped out of his boxers. He tied the studded skirt in place and tugged it down to cover his butt. ‘Are you sure I can’t wear –’

‘No. Positively no boxers.’ She laughed at his outraged expression.

He perched on the edge of the bed and gave her a narrow-eyed gaze. ‘Fine, but I believe it’s your turn.’

The memory of the impromptu tease with the bath towel flashed into her head and she flushed. That had ended in some of the best sex she had ever had but they didn’t have time for that now.

‘Come on. Don’t be shy. Strip.’

With his hair down and his muscled arms visible beneath the armour, he really did look like a gladiator ready for battle. She had stripped on stage for strangers without a thought, but this was personal.

Niall’s last word had an edge of command to it that sent a blaze of heat straight to her core. Keeping her eyes focused on his, she unbuttoned her shirt, taking pleasure in the way that his eyes followed each new inch of exposed flesh. She eased it off her shoulders and dropped it onto an antique chair. Slowly, she unzipped her skirt and shimmied out of it, noticing with satisfaction that the front of his gladiator skirt was tenting.

She kicked off her shoes, sat on the edge of the seat and unclipped her stockings from the suspender belt before rolling them down her legs slowly. A wave of feminine satisfaction surged through her as she watched him, watching her.

Standing up, she unclipped the silk bra and let it slide down her arms. Her breasts sprang free, her nipples two hard points.

Niall flexed his powerful thighs. ‘Now the rest,’ he said hoarsely.

Catching the lacy waistband of her panties, she pulled them off in one deft movement and stood naked before him, wearing nothing but a mischievous grin. ‘We have a party to go to. Aren’t you going to dress me?’

With a hungry smile, he stood up and fetched her bag. The tissue-wrapped parcel lay on top. Deftly, he opened the ribbons and shook the costume loose. If anything, it looked more outrageous than it had done in the changing room.

She stood as obediently as a mannequin as he slid the harem pants up her legs, his fingers lingering too long as he fastened the red button at her waist. He shook out the silken top before dropping it over her head.

She wriggled her arm through the single sleeve, trying to ignore the sensuous brush of his warm breath on the tender skin of her neck. Teasing him had been a very bad idea.

He eyed her exposed nipple. ‘Maybe you should leave it like that.’

She ignored him and unpeeled the jewelled nipple cover
from its protective backing before fixing it in place in front of the mirror. She touched up her make-up, painting her mouth a dramatic scarlet, and bound her hair tightly into a pony tail before fixing the headdress in place. The severe style highlighted her cheekbones and eyes.

When she turned, Niall was looking at her, puzzled.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, but sometimes you remind me of …’

She hadn’t thought of that when she chose the costume. Lottie’s favourite colour was red and with her hair tied back from her face like this she looked more like her alter ego.

‘One of your old girlfriends, I’ll bet.’ She tried to make light of it. Sinead picked up the ‘tool kit’ that Andy had packed for her. Inside was the collar and leash. That would definitely distract him.

She pivoted. ‘Bend your head so I can fix this around your neck.’

His grey eyes flared with outrage at the prospect. Niall grasped her wrist, not enough to hurt her, but tightly enough to prevent her from attaching the collar to his neck. ‘I’ll do it. No one is collaring me. Let’s check out the party and get out of here. We don’t need to stay for the weekend.’

They made their way downstairs and into the salon. Sinead struggled to pretend nonchalance as they moved through the crowd. Groups of PVC-clad women perched on antique sofas, while their almost-naked male slaves sat at their feet. She tried not to stare as one Domme fed her slave from her hand and ruffled his hair like a pet when he swallowed obediently. He smiled adoringly at her.

‘Good boy, Vadim,’ the woman purred.

‘And I’m not doing that either,’ Niall muttered.

‘Just act the part and stop sulking,’ she hissed at him.

At the far end of the room, a crowd gathered to watch a mistress whip her slave using a matching pair of leather floggers. Sinead swallowed. There was no way that she could do that to Niall.

They passed through the patio doors to the pool area. A dark-haired woman lay half out of the pool, her breasts rising and falling with exertion, her moans of pleasure audible on the night air. Just then, a man’s head popped up from beneath the water. The younger man was breathing heavily, but the expression on his face was beatific.

‘Was he …?’

Niall grinned. ‘Now that, I will try.’

‘In your dreams.’

Up ahead, she spotted a familiar face in the crowd and waved. It was the blonde Domme from the club, who moved away from the group she was chatting to and came to greet her.

‘
Chérie
.’ She kissed her cheeks. ‘I was beginning to give up on you.’

She turned her attention to Niall. ‘Oooh, nice. I like this one. Lovely hair. Can I see it down?’

Sinead tried not to smirk at the barely concealed outrage on Niall’s face as the diminutive blonde inspected him from head to toe as if he was a prize stallion.

She fixed him with her best imitation of a Domme-like stare. ‘Let the Mistress see how well behaved you are.’

If looks could kill she would be dying in agony but their cover would be blown immediately unless Niall
behaved. There was no way that she would permit him to destroy her one chance of finding her sister and the stone. She stared pointedly at him. He shouldn’t have to think about it.

She waited, tapping her foot impatiently. If she was really his Mistress, her flail would have been in use by now. Slowly, Niall reached for the length of leather binding his hair.

Sinead held her breath, watching as his fingers opened the knot. His eyes never left hers for a second. Memories of the day they spent in bed together flashed in her head. Niall stroking her, his hair loose about his shoulders, bringing her to the edge over and over again without letting her come.

An angel couldn’t resist payback for everything he had put her through – and she was no angel. She was willing to bet Lottie’s entire wardrobe that Niall had never let a woman have the upper hand before. She was pushing it, she knew, but he deserved it.

‘Take it off.’

His flinty gaze held hers and there was a mutinous edge to his expression. It promised a very special kind of revenge when this was over. With more nerve than she knew she possessed, Sinead took the leather tie from his hand and ran her fingers through his hair. ‘Your Mistress prefers your hair loose. You’ll wear it that way tonight to please me.’

A muttered curse was his only response.

‘Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that?’

‘Yes, Mistress.’ The words came out through gritted teeth.

Sinead ruffled his hair again. ‘Good boy.’

The blonde smiled. ‘Wonderful hair and nice biceps too. Good definition.’

‘Yes,’ Sinead agreed as she stroked Niall’s muscled arm, mimicking the actions of another Domme who was trying to calm her sub. ‘He’s a real sweetie.’

‘Hermione said that you’ll be doing a scene with him later?’

Sinead’s smile froze on her face. A scene? In front of all these people?

‘Yes, she’s dying to see you in action with the whip. I told her about the wonderful routine you did at Cirque recently. Not your usual style, but very hot. Everyone’s looking forward to it.’