by Annie Dyer
I eyeball him. “Whose party?”
“Genevieve Lamont.”
She’s an heiress, her father another oil tycoon, but she stays out of the public eye and doesn’t court the press. I’ve met her twice before, but Lennox has been linked to her at least triple that.
“If I have to.” A party there would be easy. Security a given. Her guests would be select and everything would be discreet. Parties like that were the perfect place to find someone to fuck for a night and scratch an itch that was burning.
But there was no guarantee I’d find that pleasure. Unless it was with Ben.
“It’ll be fun. You can let your hair down without having to worry about being kind to politicians.” He put his feet up and stretched out.
“Have you heard from William Goldsmith?” I’d told Lennox about that night in the hotel. He’d said very little and I’d figured he felt guilty about it. And concerned.
“Every day. He’s mentioned about coming here to visit. Apparently he knows Genevieve too.” My brother doesn’t flinch at the explanation. As far as he’s concerned any events are over and done with.
“Has he mentioned me?”
“Do you want him to have mentioned you?”
I roll my eyes. “Absolutely not. I’m hoping he’s got the hint that I’m not interested.”
“According to him, you had a wonderful evening and you’re looking to repeat it. Isaac said the same when I spoke to him.”
“Isaac?” I know who Isaac is. Tall, dark, the kingmaker. Someone who no one knew much about.
“Isaac. He is coming out here. I need to speak with him about a trade deal concerning…”
“I don’t need details, Len.”
My heart has started to beat faster. Isaac. The dark haired man from the delegate dinner. The man I danced with before breakfast in the storm.
I look at Ben. He’s looking back; not at my bikini, or the amount of skin I have on show, at me.
Maybe he can read minds.
Lennox chuckles. “I’ll leave out the details. But we may have guests. Not William though. I’ve made excuses for that.”
“Good. I’d have to leave the island if he was visiting.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“He is.” Ben’s voice is low but it carries. He strides over to us, his phone away, his glasses still on. “If he comes out here, there’s no way you’d want him with her alone.”
“As much as I seriously dislike how you’re talking about me as if I’m an object, I agree. Either that, or I’ll be sunbathing in a turtle neck and jeans.” I mean every word. Or I’d head over to a different island for a few days.
“He can’t do it anyway. He’s gone to China and then Russia for a few weeks on a tour.” Lennox closes his eyes. “You’re safe Blair.”
From William at least.
When I was a child, I’d swim in the loch. The cold water didn’t bother me; I’d wear a wetsuit and keep moving, enjoying the space to move even if Lennox scared me with tales of monsters and eels. As I grew older, the coldness bothered me more and my parents started to frown on me being out there, worrying about a series of events that could happen. But I hadn’t forgotten the feel of the water, the battle with the waves and the twist and turns of the tide. I felt free in the water.
I feel free in the sea.
It’s too early for Lennox to be up, especially as he visited Genevieve last night, possibly for more than just a friendly chat, so the place is quiet again. The staff have already done their morning jobs, staying out of the way and even Nina is elsewhere.
Beyond the pool is the beach, soft white sand that’s the stuff of fantasies. Dressed in a white sarong and black two piece, there’s no one to give a shit about my hair not being washed or my face being free from any make-up.
The tide is on its way out, leaving damp sand and the tracks of the waves. My feet sink into it and I lose the sarong before I walk into the water, the immediate chill of it waking me up.
There’s something illicit about being here at this time, no one around, no one to tell me to be careful or keep out a watchful eye in case a wave comes out of nowhere and sweeps me under the tide or a merman kidnaps me and takes me hostage in his underwater cave.
I dive in quickly as soon as the water becomes deep enough, taking big, fast strokes into the depths. I’m aware of my limits. I’ve already swam here and know how the tides change and where the depth of the ocean bed drops suddenly. I can rely on myself right now and it’s a freedom I’m not accustomed too.
My mind is emptied of everything except how I’m moving and the water around me, the sound of the gulls and the boat I can see in the distance. I don’t think about politics or the castle or home, just where I am. Kicking and diving, swimming as deep as my breath will allow and opening my eyes to the shoals of fish and the coral beneath me, clear in the water. Later, I’ll come back out with my snorkel and mask, see the fish and the sea creatures. Enjoy the silence.
Peace.
I have no idea how long I’m out there, treading water, swimming. It’s the growl of my stomach and the sudden craving for coffee that reminds me I’m not a mermaid and I do need to eat, so I crawl back towards the beach, feeling the warmth of the water grow as I swim into shallower tides.
Ben is standing on the sand, wearing shorts and no T-shirt and he looks like some Greek God that’s been sent from the pages of a mythology book.
I try not to stare because I know he’s looking at me and I don’t know why. He’s my security. My minder, most of the time. The man who’s meant to keep me safe, even though I can do that myself.
I emerge from the water, heavy droplets a deluge from my body. Arms lifted, I wring out the sea from my hair and head over to where I’ve left a towel, but I’m not sure I want it.
Ben’s eyes aren’t leaving me. His arms are folded, his stance alert, but I’m not sure why.
“If you’re pissed that I just went sea swimming you need to take that up though formal channels.” I stand there, four feet away from him, my hands on my hips.
“You’re assuming I’m pissed at you.” His face is unreadable, just as it used to be when I’d catch sight of him helping his dad and he’d see me, giving nothing away, not until we were on our own and were friends who talked or, when were older and we were friends who kissed.
“I suppose you could be digesting breakfast.”
He looks at the sand and I know he’s trying to hide a smirk.
“Or perusing how you’re going to murder Lennox. That’s always something to consider.”
His eyes darken and he looks back up at me.
“Not funny, Blair. That’s my job.”
“It was a joke. And it’s not your job – he has his own army of security. What are your plans? Where’s the day taking you?” I try to act nonchalant and not like this is the first time we’ve properly spoken alone since we were in the glen.
“By the pool. Maybe in the ocean if you decide to go for another swim.”
His eyes are on my body, watching the water as it trickled down, the salt starting to dry on my skin. He doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing and that makes it all the more dangerous.
However many years have passed, whatever has happened, he still looks at me as if he wants to keep me in a gilt cage.
“I don’t do anything stupid.” He can be as pretty as he likes; I’ll still be annoyed at his idea I take stupid risks.
“I’m not saying you do, but there are people out there who would. Do you swim every morning, this early?”
“This was the first time. I need to shower.” The salt was starting to irritate. “And have coffee.”
He’s smiling now, having given up the fight. “I smelled the coffee before I left.”
“How long were you here for?”
“A while.”
I think about that as we walk. Here on duty or here because he wanted to watch.
I wanted him to watch.
“Nice day for watching the
sea.”
“What walked out of it was more interesting.”
I smile, look at the sand. “Did some fabled sea creature turn up on the sand?”
“Think it was a siren. Calling me into temptation. Making me think stuff I shouldn’t be thinking.”
“I do plenty of thinking, Ben.”
He says nothing but I know he’s understanding what I’m referring to.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you the other day.”
“Why?” I stop walking and turn to face him, grabbing his arm to make him stop. “I wanted you to kiss me, and I’m pretty sure you wanted that too. In fact, I wanted more than a fucking kiss.” My words are hissed. Fierce.
“Because you’re my boss.”
“I don’t sign off your wages.”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t try to move his arm away, but he doesn’t try to touch me either.
“Blair…”
He’s fighting.
I let go of his arm. “Then we’ll both be miserable.”
I head off to get coffee.
It’s later that night after a day of sunbathing and reading and drinking piña coladas when I head to my room. I’m the only one staying for the full three weeks, so I have the master suite, the huge room that overlooks the pool and then the ocean. Space. So much space and it’s glorious to have room to think without the countless engagements or people or visitors or family.
I hang over the balcony, watching the sea swell, the distant lights of the yachts and boats twinkling against the night. It’s warm, the air sticky and humid. At some point while I’m asleep the rain will fall and tomorrow there will be freshness that’s unpolluted by this tension.
The thin robe around me is too short and too fine, clinging to damp flesh. There are unlikely to be any photographers who’d catch me here, even with a decent lens so I don’t trouble myself when the robe parts a little too far, my skin seeking relief that it doesn’t find.
Inside I can use the air con, but it seems a waste of an experience. This weather isn’t normal in Scotland, the tropical humidity not normal. My migraines don’t visit here.
There’s a cool breeze and my robe falls open, no longer meeting in the middle. When I was younger, a little girl, I used to love being naked, to feel the air against my skin. Nothing has changed apart from I can’t do that anymore. But here, in the darkness, away from people, I have some privacy. My brother is with Genevieve again, Nina and the other staff off duty. I don’t know where Ben is; maybe liaising with the island’s security, checking their CCTV.
I open my robe, catching the slight breeze against my front, keeping my breasts shielded, between my legs covered by the balcony railings. There are no stars tonight. The moon is shrouded by dense clouds, promising a storm.
Once, when were younger, I snuck out of my room in the summer and found Ben, sitting outside as the rain thudded down, soaking through his T-shirt and jeans. I’d wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and pressed my chest into his back, feeling his breath hitch and then he had hold of me, moving me so we could kiss.
That kiss in the rain had been everything apart from innocent. We’d kissed before, but that night was the start of something more, something I hadn’t known before. Desire.
I’m too lost in my thoughts to acknowledge the figure dressed in black below me. His words jolt me from my memories.
“I can find you a nudist beach, if you want.”
I feel his gaze on my breasts. Then I feel powerful.
“I’m good here.”
There’s no one else around. The yachts have disappeared, docking in an area that’s less affected by the weather and blackness taunts the island.
He can’t look away. I know he’s remembering too, and I know that what he remembers isn’t the same as what he’s seeing as the girl that used to be is now a woman. All grown.
I drop the robe.
Sticky heat drapes across my skin but my nipples pucker, exposed. Ben’s eyes move from my breasts to my eyes and his expression is stone.
“Someone might see.”
“Someone is seeing.” I make no effort to cover myself.
“You should go inside.” His voice is hoarse, rough, like his hands.
“I will. I’ll try to sleep in the heat.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never known anyone who feels the weather like you.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I lean further over the balcony, my breasts heavy, exposed. I can see his face even in the poor light. I know he won’t leave because he can’t.
This is how it was between us: transfixed. Before he left, he’d been a magnet, the pull of him too strong and the pull growing stronger over the years that I knew him.
Now I was his kite, pulled to him by the invisible string of our gaze, but I don’t know who’s in control. Maybe it’s neither of us.
Rain starts as if someone has just pressed a button, heavy and hard. I stand up, waiting for the inevitable crack of thunder, but it doesn’t come. Not yet.
It’s waiting. For the inevitable break in the pressure.
It’s me who leaves first, turning and walking naked into my suite, the first fork of lightning momentarily highlighting everything. I know Ben’s still watching, probably long after I’m gone.
He likes the rain too.
Chapter Nine
“I can drive, you know.”
Ben’s arms are braced, his hand on the gear stick, the other on the steering wheel.
“I’m aware of that.”
“So why don’t you let me drive?”
He doesn’t bother to shake his head. “Because you’re a princess.”
I suppress a growl because I know he’s aware I hate being called that. “One who can drive.”
“Again, I know that. But you’re not driving here.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t have to. Look at the scenery. Enjoy having a chauffeur. Plan what you’re going to buy.”
We’re off to a market on the main island next to Jumby Bay, a brief change of scenery that I’ve requested mainly to escape Genevieve and Lennox who’ve taken up residence by the pool and haven’t understood that it’s still a public display of affection if just one person is there. I’ve also had Elise calling to ask how Lennox is and if he seems to be missing her.
“I take it you’re aware of a threat?” This was probably true. Ben was probably planning an escape route and had a boat waiting to go at the other side of this island.
“Media.” He sounds bored.
“Does it matter if they grab a few shots?” Sometimes it was easier, let them have a picture and they’d leave me in peace.
“Yes.” He starts the car, a sleek black thing with tinted windows. It screams look at me.
“Ben, this is my life. People take photos.”
“I know.”
“So don’t worry too much about the media. I know how to handle them.”
He’s silent, driving us quickly but carefully, knowing where to go without sat nav. I figure he’s been over to the main island a couple of times to recce it out, because Ben is a planner. He’s prepared. Careful.
Thinks more than he speaks.
“You deserve a holiday where you don’t have to think about people taking photos of you.”
“They may do while we’re out.” I know going to the market won’t be as straightforward as it is for most people. Areas will be closed off while I browse, roads secured. Unless he’s braving it and we’re trying to do this anonymously.
I realise that’s exactly what we’re doing when we reach the town and park up next to a car that’s even flashier. I pull on my huge sunhat and glasses, knowing that they anonymise me as well as anything. Ben comes to the passenger side and opens the door, letting me out and shielding me.
He freezes when I pause.
“You look too much like security. It’ll make people stare.”
I see the small nod. “I know.”
“Pretend y
ou’re my boyfriend or husband. Everyone knows I’m terminally single.” I put my hand on his waist and feel him still even more. “Ben, I’m not going to jump you in the street.”
He takes hold of my forearms, brings me closer.
“You think I don’t want that? You think I’m not desperate to feel what your pussy’s like squeezed around my cock? Or finally have you in my bed? It’s fucking torture.”
“So find out.”
His hands are on my waist now, holding me. Firm, rigid. Grounding me. “Look round the market as much as you want. I’ll play whatever part you need. There’s security with us but I’ve told them to keep in the background.”
I angle myself into him as we walk, keeping my arm around his waist, memorising the feel of him as we walk around in public for the first time. His arm is around me, or around my shoulders. When I stop to look in a shop, he circles my waist and pulls my back into him, shielding me. Showing me exactly what weapon he’s concealing.
It’s when I lean my head back against his shoulder that the yearning hits me. This is what it’s like to have someone hold you. To desire you. Look after you. I point at something in the window and he laughs, commenting back. It’s irrelevant what we say, it’s what we’re not saying.
Walking round the market, he holds my hand, pointing out some of the items for sale. Every so often, we find ourselves in an embrace and it’s too easy. Too easy to want this to be what it’s not: something more than just a working relationship so I can have a day of being almost normal.
I want more. And I think Ben does too.
Lennox isn’t alone when we get back. He’s sitting outside in the early evening sunshine, sprawling across one of the outdoor sofas while a woman I recognise lounges in the pool, hair pulled up like a pineapple on her head.
I realise again that my brother is a bastard.
“Elise!” I try my best to act happy that she’s here, just for a second pretending she’s travelled all this way to see me. But I can’t, because I know that’s one of the biggest lies on the island right now.
“Blair!”
I feel bad because she looks genuinely pleased to see me.
