The Angels' Share

by Maya Hess

  The orgasm that unexpectedly crashed through me, with the power of the insistent breakers on the beach, sealed my resolve not to give up. But first, before I committed to my final assault on Kinrade, I wanted to make Liz feel as delicious as I did.

  8

  When Steph arrived at the beach cottage, she was all fizzed up and excited. Having met her only a couple of times previously, I should have found it difficult to tell if her behaviour was typical, but such was the force with which she bounded across the rocks and such was her agitation, in a positive way, that her enthusiasm was unmistakable.

  ‘It’s going to be just like Cinderella’s ball,’ she squealed, catching her ankle on a sharp rock but ignoring the pain. There was no ‘hello’, no explanation for her behaviour two days ago at Connor’s place when she brazenly informed me that she had stolen my diary. I glanced at her hands to see if she was returning it but I didn’t make out that she was carrying anything. Steph approached me, as I was collecting mussels from the rocks, as if she had known me all her life. I stood and stretched, my back a little sore from the harvest and also from the contortions Liz and I had performed yesterday. I gave a little smile at the thought.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Did Connor tell you where I was staying?’

  Steph nodded, her almost white-blonde hair frothing in the sunlight. The day was blessed with a hint of warmth from the winter sun. ‘How do you manage down here?’ Her zeal was temporarily halted as she raised her hand to her brow and squinted at the low, weathered walls of my cottage, her mouth curling into an expression of what I believed to be distaste.

  ‘Just fine,’ I replied. ‘Apart from having to lug fresh water down here daily, I get by very well.’ I knew what she was thinking as she glanced at my thoroughly wrapped-up body that showed no shape whatsoever beneath the six or so layers I had put on earlier. ‘If I keep the fire going, I stay toasty warm and the shop is within walking distance.’

  ‘Are you going to invite me in, then?’ Steph exuded impertinence, especially from the smile that had hardly left her face since she came bounding across the beach.

  ‘Of course,’ I said and gathered up the mussels in one of my mother’s old tablecloths. ‘Come and have tea.’ I was hoping that she might be tempted to deliver my diary and also give away details about her relationship with Connor. It still bothered me immensely.

  Once she had finished poking about the cottage, which she evidently saw as a cute plaything rather than my home, she settled in an armchair and watched while I made tea.

  ‘Do you have it, then?’ It was my diary after all. ‘My pocket book,’ I added when she appeared perplexed.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ll get to that. I want to know what you think about the Christmas party up at the big house.’

  ‘Creg-ny-Varn?’ I said stupidly. ‘Connor has asked me to go with him but I’m not sure if I will.’ I waited for the change in her expression, watched for the downturn of her pretty almond-shaped eyes and the barely-there lines of a frown when she realised that Connor had asked me to the ball rather than her. It was obviously a token gesture on Connor’s part but unfortunately the only ammunition I had.

  Steph continued to grin. ‘Aw, you must go. He’d be devastated if you didn’t. It must be just about the most exciting thing to happen on the island in a long time and I can’t say that I’ve ever been to a masked ball at such a fine country mansion.’

  ‘Devastated?’

  ‘I doubt if he’d go alone. Connor’s not big on socialising. If you don’t go with him, I will.’

  I swallowed. ‘A masked ball, did you say?’ There were simply too many things to take in at once. My life in Spain was uncomplicated, quite unlike the emotional rush that had swamped me since my arrival on the island, and now all of a sudden I was facing new relationships, however serious or permanent, legal battles and a desire for someone I hadn’t seen for fourteen years.

  ‘Such a fun idea, don’t you think? Apparently Mr Kinrade himself thought it up, but I’ve never met him so I have no idea what it will be like.’ Steph’s excitement was incessant. ‘And I have nothing to wear.’

  ‘That sounds fitting,’ I said, not really to Steph but more to myself as I mulled over the implications.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The secrecy, the elusiveness. Sounds like Kinrade, all right.’ I handed Steph her tea and she didn’t even notice that it wasn’t exactly boiling and that the milk was in short supply. ‘Biscuit?’ I offered her a packet of chocolate digestives and she took several.

  Why I was being civil to the girl, I didn’t know, although her enthusiasm was infectious and rapidly attaching itself to me. I began to experience symptoms of anticipation like hers. Going to Kinrade’s ball with Connor – for I saw no other way to gain access to what I presumed would be a strictly controlled event and it would at least prevent Steph from being his date – would be my initial and perhaps only chance of contact with Ethan Kinrade. How I would react to his presence, I didn’t know. It could go to either extreme: I could fall mute and be so intimidated by his presence that I wouldn’t utter a word of protest or, and I suspected that with the build-up of anger inside me this was the more likely, I would hammer my thoughts into the man and demand that my case be heard. Either way, worrying about what to wear to the event was far from my mind.

  ‘There’s a shop in town that specialises in ball gowns and cocktail dresses and has some wild fancy dress outfits.’ Steph was unstoppable. ‘You are the only other woman I know on this entire island and I absolutely demand that you come with me to help me choose a costume.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said absentmindedly, unaware of what I had let myself in for. My head was a soup of thoughts and for the first time I actually realised that I was soon to come face to face with Ethan Kinrade. ‘I would love to help you choose a costume. I’ll need one myself.’ And I grinned almost as brightly as Steph.

  It was nearly an hour later when Steph finally ran out of things to say about the party. Her desire to meet the elusive Kinrade was almost as great as mine, although for strictly different reasons. Steph, it seemed, was on the lookout for any wealthy, good-looking bachelor going and Kinrade fitted her criteria almost perfectly. I felt a pang of jealousy on Connor’s behalf. The woman was obviously brazen and had no morals. I was sure Connor, on the other hand, would be a loyal partner. I wondered whether to tell him about Steph’s interest in other men but decided that Connor was big enough to make up his own mind. It did, however, give me some hope that Connor and Steph might not be the inseparable couple I had first thought.

  ‘I’m destined to be an old maid,’ she said and then confessed to being only twenty-three. What she really meant was that she hadn’t had good, sorry, great sex since her Parisian escapade. Steph was in love with the idea of seducing a powerful man in possession of a large fortune and currently saw herself as Lady of the Manor, even though Kinrade might look like one of the limpets clinging to the rocks outside my cottage. ‘If I don’t get it soon, I’m going to have to hire an escort.’

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Did that mean she hadn’t slept with Connor yet? I was by then thoroughly used to Steph’s frankness and laughed at the thought of her being escorted by a paid-for stranger, most likely to the nearest bed.

  ‘So you’ve been staying with Connor for a week now.’ I was thinking out loud, trying to work out the probability of them having had sex based on the number of nights they’d been together.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied casually. ‘He’s such good company.’

  All I did was nod slowly and bite my bottom lip. My gaze ended up focused on the shore and I watched the frothy breakers tease the black rocks. I would just have to be honest with her, hoping she would reciprocate.

  ‘And, you haven’t…you know, got a thing for him?’

  ‘Me and Connor?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Nah.’ Her reply was quiet and unconvincing, as if she was holding something back. The short flicks of her hair as she shook her head didn’t persuade me. In fact, the v
ery way that she purported to be uninterested in Connor told me she was madly in love and besotted with the man. ‘You like him, too?’ she added.

  Too? I was right.

  I shrugged. ‘We go way back. We’ve known each other since we were kids.’ I hoped that would seal my claim on the man we both desired.

  ‘Yeah, so have we.’

  I had to put this out of my mind, at least until I had confronted Ethan Kinrade. Connor and Steph would have to wait until after the party.

  ‘My diary,’ I said, attacking the other pressing matter. ‘You have it?’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ Steph said, giving me that mischievous look again.

  ‘The thing?’

  ‘I thought I’d slipped it in my jacket pocket before I left but…’ She raised her arms and dropped them to her sides before slurping her tea. ‘Sorry. It must still be back at Connor’s house.’ A little pout gathered her lips and she gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders, which caused some tea to spill on her fingers, and then she was yelping because she’d burnt herself and I was finding a cloth to mop her and so it was a little while before we were talking about my diary again.

  I sighed, not quite sure where to begin. I wanted my diary back, possibly almost as much as I wanted Connor and Creg-ny-Varn, but I had to handle the volatile Steph carefully. Even though I didn’t know her very well, I’d already deduced that she was a wild card. Besides, I was missing my evening ritual of writing up my fantasies and, for the first time in my life, there had been real events to record. It didn’t seem fair.

  ‘It’s very personal, Steph, and I’m pretty angry that you stole it from my pack.’

  ‘It just kind of slipped out.’ The way she hung her head and her eyes closed momentarily convinced me that it hadn’t slipped out at all.

  ‘I definitely recall wedging my diary deep inside my bag. You stole it.’

  ‘Well, you’d been writing about me.’ She stood and paced about the small room. ‘I’d every intention of handing it in to the ferry company when I’d read it. I guessed that you’d call their lost property number. I just haven’t got around to it yet.’

  ‘Has Connor read it?’ Aside from getting it back, that was a major concern.

  ‘Maybe. Not sure.’ She shrugged and squinted out of the window as the low sun caused spangles to bob on the waves.

  ‘Well, we’re going to get it back. Now!’ I stood and retrieved my jacket and stoked the fire so it would still be burning when I returned. I was determined to have a night of comfort and warmth and smiled inwardly at the thought of playing catch-up with my journal. I’d already bought supplies from the shop and had treated myself to a bottle of Glen Broath. Drinking something Connor had produced made me feel a little nearer to him.

  ‘Couldn’t we go via the fancy dress shop to get our outfits? They’re bound to be in short supply as virtually the whole island’s going to the ball. Do you really want to go looking like that?’ She gestured at my jeans and walking boots. Steph had a point. ‘Please? And then you can have your diary back. Promise.’

  I glanced at my watch. If we didn’t go soon, the shop would be closed. If I didn’t get an outfit, I couldn’t go to the ball. If I didn’t go to the ball, I wouldn’t be able to confront Kinrade in the totally demeaning way I had planned and Connor would probably take Steph as his partner instead.

  ‘You have a car?’

  ‘No, but I can borrow the Land Rover. It’s up at the distillery.’ Steph began bouncing around the cottage, animated at the prospect of choosing a costume.

  * * *

  We’d virtually run up to Glen Broath, our excitement showing as shots of hot breath in the still winter air. Steph had briefly asked Connor for the keys to the Land Rover and he agreed, insisting we return by six as he had some errands to run. Steph drove to Douglas as if we were about to miss a flight and all the while she was muttering about masks and bodices and what colour suited her best. I didn’t care what I wore as long as it got me into the party.

  The tiny boutique, which smelled of lavender and mothballs, was stuffed with an overabundance of gowns and ludicrous costumes ranging from court jesters to dominatrix gear. Steph was drawn to the traditional, Cinderella-type gowns and pulled several off the rail.

  ‘What do you think?’ She held up a scarlet dress that puffed out from its tiny waist in an explosion of voile and crumpled silk and another jade gown with a slim-fitting design.

  ‘Beautiful,’ I agreed. ‘But they both look a bit too big for you.’ Steph was a size eight at most.

  ‘I mean for you, dummy.’ She pressed the dresses against me so that I had to take them and then she began rummaging in a rail of what looked like vintage gowns. Something had caught her eye as she began panting and stuttering at what she had found. The shop assistant watched.

  ‘Heavens, he’ll adore it.’ Steph was breathless as she held up the gown.

  ‘Who will?’ I asked perplexed.

  She didn’t answer. ‘You must try this on.’

  I didn’t need much convincing. While the ball was a nerve-racking necessity, it was also a chance to see Connor under conditions that might at least procure a dance or some intimate conversation. I wanted to look my best, especially when I confronted Ethan Kinrade, which I planned on doing in an entirely public display of revenge.

  I stepped out of the changing cubicle with my cheeks flushed and my small breasts heaved to new heights by the boning in the bodice. Both Steph and the shop assistant were speechless. I turned and stared into the mirror, thinking that someone had stepped in front of me because I simply didn’t recognise the reflection. My entire body was encased in swathes of faded toffee-coloured lace, while ruffles of scrunched net skimmed my shoulders in a provocative but not overstated way. The cream bodice clung to my ribs so that I hardly dared breathe in, every little hook beneath the magnificent trim of leaves and snowdrops tying me into this masterpiece.

  ‘Nice,’ I said, knowing that was not the way to describe such a unique gown but lost for any other word. ‘Is it expensive?’ The skirts tumbled and swished around my legs as I turned to the shop assistant. As she was checking the price, Steph spotted a cream feather mask and handed it to me to try.

  ‘Fabulous! If you don’t wear this dress, I’ll –’

  ‘One hundred and seventy five pounds. But I’ll include some shoes and the mask.’ The shop assistant snapped her price book closed.

  ‘I only wanted to hire a dress, not buy one.’ I shrugged at Steph.

  ‘That is the price to hire the gown. If madam would prefer something from the budget rail…’ The woman gestured to the other side of the boutique before glancing at my muddy walking boots that peeped from beneath the gown.

  ‘We’ll take it,’ Steph interjected, pulling her purse from her pocket. ‘You go and change again, Ailey, while I find something for myself.’ It wouldn’t be until the night of the ball that I would discover Steph had picked out the most beautiful shimmering tiara for me to wear in my hair as well as a pair of impossibly high-heeled shoes.

  * * *

  ‘I had no idea, really.’ Connor held my diary by his side, his strong fingers wrapped around the leather cover as if he would never let go of it. His expression was serious, the complete opposite of the frivolities contained within my journal. Was I to believe him? Sensing the tension between us, Steph had left the office muttering some reason why she needed to return to Connor’s cottage.

  ‘Then why is it in your desk drawer?’ I stood my ground, my feet planted wide and my gloved hands thrust deep into the pockets of my jacket. Connor didn’t reply. He sighed heavily and predictably poured two shots of Glen Broath. ‘I thought you were driving?’

  ‘My errands can wait.’ Connor perched on the corner of his desk and eyed me almost dolefully but also with a deep, serious appraisal, as someone might look at a thoroughbred horse they were thinking of buying.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just don’t believe you.’ I turned and walked to the far side of Connor’s o
ffice. I trailed my finger over his bookshelves, which were stacked with whisky-related volumes and numerous trophies he’d won for his finest malts.

  When I turned, Connor had my journal in front of him and his thumbs between the pages, as if he was about to open it. It felt as if he was holding a gun to my head.

  ‘It’s personal,’ I said, trying to hold my voice level. ‘Steph had no right to take it and you certainly have no right to read it either.’ At that moment, I wished I’d never written the damn thing. I should have known better. I should have realised that such provocative writings, in the wrong hands, could change my life. Had changed my life.

  ‘What you said a few days ago at the beach cottage, about my thoughts becoming reality.’ I paused, giving him time to remember. ‘It’s true. Things that I’ve wondered about for years are beginning to happen, like I’m a simmering pan and my lid has finally been lifted.’ I was deliberately vague. How could I tell Connor, the man I wanted to impress most in the entire world, that I had indulged in kinky shenanigans with my nearest neighbours? Would telling Connor about my involvement with Dominic deter him from ever loving me? It was a risk I couldn’t take, even though I had jeopardised my future by muddling my life with these sexy risks. It wasn’t like me at all.

  ‘Then do you really want your diary back?’ Connor’s large hands, laced with precise veins and tipped with clean, trimmed nails, gripped my diary and held it in front of his chest like a prayer book.

  He had a point. Did I want to continue simply writing down all my hopes and desires for the rest of my life or would I rather live my dreams? I took a long, warming sip of whisky and stared at the ceiling. A layer of tears skimmed my eyes and I begged for it not to burst free.

  ‘Have you read it?’ This time my voice definitely betrayed my emotion.

  ‘I told you. I didn’t even realise it was in my desk drawer. Steph must have put it there.’ Connor exhaled and shook his head. ‘You’d think she was at school still, the pranks that girl plays.’