by Ella Ardent
In the opposite corner was a folding screen covered with tapestry. Behind it was a table with a pitcher and ewer. There was a lidded pot discretely tucked beneath the bed, which answered Zach’s question. No compromise. It was Rex’s way.
The wall with the fireplace was all bookcases with glass doors, all the way to the ceiling, the shelves crammed with leather-bound volumes. Zach opened a door, fully expecting them to be fake, but they were real books.
Classics, too.
He could have just holed up in this room and read. No doubt they would bring him tea and crumpets in the morning, and brandy at night. He could lounge around and catch up on everything he’d meant to read over the years and then some.
But he was here for a more earthy fantasy than that.
He heard a clock chime, as if there was a grandfather clock somewhere in the house. Seven. That was when Fletcher had said he would be expected for dinner. Zach checked his reflection one last time, tugged at his vest, then opened the door to the corridor. Should he leave the lantern burning? What about the fire?
He paused on the threshold as Caitlyn stepped out of the room to his left, and he couldn’t help but stare. When they arrived on the island, she’d been dressed in a tweed traveling suit with a long skirt for their journey to the house. The outfit had been flattering, but had nothing on the dress she wore now.
Her dark hair was coiled up so that her neck was bare, and the sweeping neckline of the pink dress left her shoulders almost bare, as well as displaying a lot of creamy flesh. Her waist was so narrow that they must have laced her into a corset, and there were jewels gleaming against her skin. Garnets maybe. She wore lace gloves and carried a fan, and when she turned to him, her eyes were alight with the pleasure that only the prospect of seeing Luke could give her.
Some things didn’t change.
Her room was on the same side of his room as the locked door, which he now assumed connected the bedrooms. Caitlyn must have it locked on her side, which was reasonable enough.
It was probably safer to have a locked door between them, in case he forgot himself.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Caitlyn demanded in a delighted whisper. “I can’t believe how awesome it is!” She lifted her skirts and spun, making them swish against the floor. He caught a glimpse of satin slippers, dyed to match the dress, and wondered if she was wearing stockings and garters.
The idea of stripping her out of that dress and admiring the view made his cock hard and thick. Fortunately, his trousers were pleated and no one would know about the state of his arousal other than himself.
“The clothes are exquisite,” she said. “Every period detail is exactly right.”
“Well, you’d know better than me,” Zach said. Caitlyn had a degree in fashion design and slaved away in a little boutique in a funky corner of town, where she made and sold her own creations.
“Look at your suit. It’s practically Saville Row. I’m blown away by the attention to detail—and the expense! They don’t cut corners at The Phoenix.”
“No, they never did at the Plume either,” Zach said without meaning to do so.
Caitlyn glanced at him in surprise. “How would you know that?”
A pretty maid came out of the room in that moment, saving him from his own slip-up. Her expression was as demure as her uniform was provocative and Zach seized the opportunity to look astonished. The skirt was cut high so that her bare ass was visible, with the garters stretching down her thighs to her stockings. She, too, was laced into a corset, and her apron barely covered her pubic hair at the front. Her nipples spilled out of her bodice, and she looked like an invitation.
She smiled at Zach when she noted his interest. “The dining room is down the stairs and to your left, my lady,” she said, then curtseyed.
“Thank you, Hunt,” Caitlyn said, then stepped toward Zach. It had to be an accident that she blocked his view, because he knew she wasn’t interested in him. “Shall we go down, then?”
Zach nodded, then called after the departing maid, who was scurrying toward the other end of the hall. “Excuse me, Hunt, but should the lantern be left burning?” he asked, and the maid glanced back.
“I’ll see to it, sir.” She curtseyed low, giving him a view down her cleavage. She smiled impishly when she glanced up and Zach wondered if he would be using her later that evening for a pleasurable release.
“Thank you,” Zach said to the maid, offered his elbow to Caitlyn and she rested her fingers on his arm as he guided her toward the stairs. “You look lovely this evening,” he said and she smiled up at him.
“I know! Who would have imagined?”
“I would have.”
She rapped her fan on his arm, dismissing his comment yet again. “Seriously, Zach, this is amazing.” She winced. “Although Hunt laced the corset very tightly.”
There was something Zach hadn’t needed to know. A corset and stockings. Maybe the pants didn’t have enough pleats after all. “You look great,” he managed to say.
“I feel hot,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Those laced boots when we arrived were one thing but the corset goes a step further. I feel like I’m tied up all the time, and can’t wait until tomorrow when I wear the boots and the corset at once.”
Maybe she could wear only those items. Zach swallowed. God, how he loved laces. Almost as much as rope. Blindfolds. Tape.
Caitlyn dropped her voice to a confidential whisper. “And it’s started to rain, too. God, I’m so wet.” She squeezed his arm a little in her enthusiasm, sending a jolt through him.
Zach didn’t know quite what to say to that, but his body sure responded in a hurry. Being friends with the woman who drove him crazy was seriously a double-edged sword.
Caitlyn was looking into the dining room, clearly oblivious to the effect of her confessions. “It looks fantastic,” she murmured. “And you look great, too. I’m so glad you came with me.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek sweetly, her light perfume enveloping him and her breast pressing against his arm for a heavenly moment.
Zach closed his eyes, thought of her undergarments, and had to pull his mind out of the gutter.
Caitlyn said the one thing that could trash his mood. “When they bring Luke back from the dead, he won’t even recognize us.”
“You don’t really think they’ll manage it, do you?” Zach asked with care.
“They can do everything else, evidently.”
“But I don’t want you to be disappointed,” Zach began, only to have Caitlyn spin to face him.
“Thank you for coming with me, Zach, and thank you for looking out for me,” she said and squeezed his hand. She smiled at him. “I feel so lucky that Luke had such a good friend.” Then she was gone in a whirl of burgundy, practically floating into the dining room.
Friend.
What Zach wouldn’t give to let her see the truth. But he’d already betrayed his best friend once, and Luke had died as a result. Seducing Caitlyn was just about the only way Zach could make matters worse.
Keeping his distance was the right thing to do.
Even if it was going to fucking kill him.
There were other guests. There were maids. There had to be a way for him to find some relief at Windswept.
* * *
Open mouth—insert foot. Why did she keep giving Zach such hints, when he really wasn’t interested? Caitlyn just couldn’t seem to stop herself from issuing invitations, even though he barely seemed to notice any of them.
Let alone show any inclination to act on them.
He probably thought she was vulgar.
Cheap.
Easy.
That kind of assessment would matter to a guy like Zach. He’d probably marry a woman who was a virgin on their wedding night—if there were any left on the planet over the age of eighteen. Zach was so nice. Did a woman as naughty as Caitlyn even have a chance of catching his eye?
Never mind his heart.
Why had he and Luke been such good bud
dies? Caitlyn couldn’t figure it out. They were like oil and water, and she would have expected them to hate each other’s guts. Luke’s oldest buddy was everything Luke wasn’t. Zach was courteous and polite, a gentleman with charm. He was every bit as hot as Luke, maybe even more so, and he wasn’t dangerous in the least. He sure wasn’t self-absorbed, or an invitation to disaster.
He also didn’t seem to be interested in Caitlyn. He was friendly. He was gracious. He made her feel like the one with naughty expectations. It was hard to believe he and Luke could have been so close, given how different they were, but evidently they’d met in kindergarten and had been inseparable ever since.
Even after Luke had driven his car into a concrete bridge, dying in the same blaze of fury in which he had lived, she couldn’t stop calling Zach. He’d given her his card at the funeral and Caitlyn had worn the paper to softness.
She glanced at Zach through her lashes, her heart thumping at how handsome he was across the table. He was being incredibly kind in accompanying her on this trip. He had to be bored out of his mind. She’d felt badly for her selfishness in wanting this last week of his company before she never saw him again.
Not so bad, though, that she’d ever considered calling it off.
If she told him the truth now, he’d despise her. Zach was honest to a fault, and he sure wouldn’t appreciate knowing that she’d been deceptive, even if had been because she’d wanted to be with him.
No, the only way to keep him from bolting was to continue to appear devastated by Luke’s death.
What about that chance comment? How did Zach know anything about The Plume, the private BDSM club that had been the forerunner of The Phoenix? They must have looked for some investment capital or a loan or something. It had to be about money, because Zach did money.
He didn’t do kink.
She just wished the rain would stop for a little while. It had always turned her on, but now that she’d spent so many sweet nights at the cafe in Seattle with Zach, it just made her ache with wanting him.
She supposed it would be a bad idea to invite him to spank her for being so naughty.
Although if he accepted, it would be very hot.
Caitlyn sighed, then forced a smile as she was introduced to the other guests. There were two couples, the four of them checking each other out so openly that Caitlyn assumed they had a swapping fantasy. There was also a single guy, who carried himself with confidence and seemed to have a lord-of-the-manor fantasy. He was standing behind the chair at the head of the table, as if there couldn’t be any doubt that it was his place.
He turned and smiled at her, bowing slightly. “Devon Nelson,” he said, introducing himself. “At your service.”
“Lady Caitlyn,” Caitlyn replied and considered the man bending over her hand. He had dark hair and was tall with broad shoulders. When he glanced up and smiled, she saw that he had dark eyes.
And the kind of wolfish smile she knew best.
A hot loser, just like Luke.
Of course, he was checking her out as if he’d like to have her for dessert, all tied up with a pretty bow. Caitlyn tried not to sigh with disappointment. She knew the script to this exchange, but she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to say her usual lines.
She wondered again about that clause in the contract, the one that said The Phoenix wasn’t responsible for the results of fantasies intersecting and overlapping. She spared a glance at Zach to find him smiling politely for one of the other women. Maybe he was bored. Tolerant and polite, of course. He held out a chair for her at the foot of the table and she slid into her seat, wondering whether she would ever get anything right.
* * *
Devon was totally on board with the plan.
He’d liked it before, but now that he’d seen the woman he was supposed to ravish, he couldn’t wait to begin.
Caitlyn wasn’t just gorgeous, she was so turned on that he could smell her puss from across the room. She was hot and she was ready for it. The guy who escorted her to the dining room, Zach, was about as much of a threat to Devon’s seduction as a paper napkin was to a flood. Devon would have her in the daytime as himself and in the dark of the night, disguised as her lost lover Luke.
This place was almost too good to be true. He wouldn’t just disappear on Windswept: he’d have the time of his life doing it.
When Caitlyn glanced up, Devon didn’t hide his appreciation.
She blushed, a good sign in his opinion, though her gaze flicked to her indifferent companion more than once. The dining room was old-fashioned, like the rest of the house, and he felt as if he were on a really good set. It was lit by candles on the table and buffet, and the light of a blazing fire. Conversation was formal over the meal, which seemed to have a million courses. He watched the others to see which fork to use on each thing put before him, but barely tasted his food. He was ready for the action to really begin.
There was a knock at the door and the sounds of guests being ushered into the foyer. Devon wondered where they’d come from, as he hadn’t heard the helicopter. The fire had burned down considerably, and he was wondering if the staff were going to stoke it up. It was cold in this place, that was for sure.
“Madame Amelia!” the butler announced, sweeping open the door. A small woman of indeterminate age swept into the room. Her dress was made of dark purple taffeta and it rustled as she moved. Her waist was so tiny that he knew she was corseted tightly, but her features were lost in the yards of black lace wrapped around her face. She wore black lace gloves and carried a fan of peacock feathers, which she snapped and flicked open, holding it up to her face as well.
“Oh, the vibrations in this room are very powerful!” she said, fluttering her fan as she entered the room. One of the women giggled, but her partner placed his hand upon her and she fell silent. Madame Amelia’s approval of the supposed vibrations was more than clear, although the way she moved reminded Devon of a bird.
He wondered how they were going to fake the presence of a ghost.
A black man in plain dark clothes followed her, obviously a servant, and Devon was surprised to see that the man had green eyes. He carried a case, like a hatbox, and at the butler’s nod, set it on one end of the sideboard. He opened it with care as Madame Amelia floated around the room whispering of vibrations, then removed a large crystal ball from within its depths. The ball was fixed to a dark base, and he gave Devon a look, evicting him from the head place at the table. Once Devon moved away, the servant placed the crystal ball on the table and held the chair for his mistress.
Madame Amelia fluttered to his side. “Careful, Rex! Careful!” She ran her gloved hands over the ball, as if to reassure herself that it was undamaged.
A crystal ball. Seriously. Devon fought the urge to roll his eyes. Stapleton brought another chair and put it on one side of the chick Devon got to bang. The guy who had come with her didn’t seem to approve of that, but Devon didn’t care. He tucked the chair in close, stole a look down her cleavage and felt his anticipation rise.
Madame Amelia had already turned to the other couples. “I am the great Madame Amelia!” she declared, as if to invite applause.
“I’m Caitlyn,” the beauty said. The other couples also introduced themselves, leaving only the guy with Devon’s babe.
“Zach,” he contributed tightly.
The occasion seemed to demand more of a flourish than that. Devon bowed low over the new arrival’s hand. “Devon, and I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Madame Amelia.”
“I am certain that you are,” she said, then spun away. “This room is filled with an energy that is undeniable.” She extinguished the candles on the table as she spoke, blowing them out one at a time. The butler visibly flinched when wax spilled on the table, and Devon saw that there was a candle snuffer on the buffet. Madame Amelia didn’t seem to have noticed it, because she kept blowing out candles with gusto. There were still candles lit on the sideboard, and the gas sconces burning on the opposite wall. Then s
he raised her hands high. “I sense the presence of those from beyond, and their desire to communicate with us.”
As the room became darker, the sound of the rain falling against the windows seemed to be louder. It felt colder, too, as if the wind was slipping into the room. Devon could practically feel it swirling around his ankles. He shivered, hoping they cranked up the heat before he got naked with Caitlyn.
Caitlyn was watching Madame Amelia with obvious fascination, while Zach was eying the peacock feather fan with a smile. For some reason, his gaze darted to that of the black servant, who seemed to bite back an answering smile before he averted his gaze.
Did they know each other?
Or did they want to know each other?
If Zach was gay, that would explain his disinterest in Caitlyn very well.
Madame Amelia stood at the head of the table and threw up her hands. “The spirits are gathering!” she cried. “The voices from beyond demand our attention!”
There was a glowing swirl inside the crystal ball that hadn’t been there before. Devon thought he was imagining it, but the pale green light grew steadily brighter and the swirl spun more quickly.
“Let us welcome their tidings!” Madame Amelia declared. “We must make a sacred circle to welcome them!” She cast her fan onto the table and reached imperiously for the hand of the man at her left. The group joined hands in the shadowed room and the woman giggled again.
Madame Amelia’s tone turned imperious as she glared down the table at Caitlyn. “Now, the lady must complete the circle, and we will invoke the presence of the spirits.” Caitlyn took Devon’s hand and he felt a little frisson of energy that startled him. Was there power in the circle? Or was he just responding to her touch? That had never happened to him before.
Madame Amelia tipped back her head and closed her eyes. “Spirits! If you are here and wish to speak with any of us, give us a sign of your presence!”
To Devon’s amazement, the light in the crystal ball blazed neon green. The remaining candles and the sconces were extinguished as one by a sudden gust of wind in the room. The woman giggled again, but she sounded more shrill than before. The blaze on the hearth was extinguished in the same moment. Devon might have complained about the cold, but the light in the crystal ball began to throb.
