‘This is my wife, Lizzie,’ he went on, pushing forward a slim, olive-skinned girl with long brown ringlets whose dark doe-shaped eyes seemed anxious. ‘Smile for God’s sake,’ he added more sharply. ‘Deborah is here on holiday.’
Obediently his wife smiled, but to Deborah’s amazement tears suddenly filled her eyes and she quickly turned away from the newcomer and busied herself pouring drinks at a nearby table.
‘I’m Flora,’ announced a petite, brown-haired girl in a pair of cut-off denims and red T-shirt. ‘I’m Pavin’s secretary on the mainland. I’ve worked for him for the past three years and hope I’m becoming indispensable!’
Pavin laughed. ‘Of course you are, honey. Why, but for you who would have made Deborah’s travel arrangements?’
‘I expect I could have made them for myself,’ said Deborah shortly, rather resenting the inference that she was too dim to manage to get herself from London to the Orkneys without help from his secretary.
‘Nice to have it done for you though, wasn’t it?’ asked Flora.
‘Yes, of course, I’m very grateful.’
‘Debbie used to be an editor for a big publishing house,’ explained Pavin. ‘I don’t suppose she ever had to make her own travel arrangements, did you sweetheart?’
‘No, because I never went out of London,’ retorted Deborah.
Brian Forster laughed. ‘There you are, Flora, not everyone needs you!’
As Flora flushed with irritation a tall curly-haired man put his arm round her. ‘I need you, Flora.’ He smiled at Deborah. ‘I’m Richard Ford. I don’t know if Pavin’s mentioned me but I’m his P.A., or perhaps general dogsbody would be nearer the truth. We’re all very pleased you could get here.’
‘Where are Celia and Martin?’ asked Pavin, taking a large whisky from Elizabeth’s outstretched hand. As he took it he reached out his free hand and gently stroked the side of her face where the tears that Deborah had spotted earlier had now dried. ‘You okay?’ he whispered tenderly, and Deborah stared at the pair of them, wondering if at some time they’d been involved in an affair that had gone wrong or been brought to an abrupt close by her husband.
Elizabeth nodded, rubbed her cheek against the palm of his hand and then moved quietly away to pour drinks for the rest of the group. Deborah found that she was feeling distinctly awkward. Although the group had expanded to include her in the circle they still seemed to be watching her and making judgements.
However, after a couple of sherries she began to feel more relaxed, and almost immediately Pavin – who had been at the far side of the group in conversation with Flora – came back to her.
‘I’ll show you where we’re sleeping, Debbie. We’ll meet up with the rest of you at dinner time, okay?’
Brian Forster smiled thinly while Flora immediately became deeply involved in a conversation with Paul Woolcott and his voluptuous wife.
Deborah followed Pavin out of the room and up the second half of the stairway to the floor above. ‘What’s the other room, next to the Blue Room?’ she asked curiously.
‘The dining hall. It used to be the great hall but it’s been changed a bit to make it more homely. This is the west end of the original main part of the castle. There’s only our bedroom and ante-rooms up here. At the east end there’s a recreation room but the other bedrooms are all in the south-west tower. That’s got four floors with a bedroom and bathroom on each floor, which explains the number of guests here.’
‘So we’re on our own on this floor?’
‘Quite alone, honey. There, what do you think?’
As the American pushed open the double doors, Deborah stared at the room that was to be her bedroom for the next fortnight in astonishment. She’d expected opulence; tapestries, glorious window drapes and pictures. Instead the high-ceilinged room looked like a throwback to the Elizabethan age. An enormous four-poster bed dominated it, the dark oak plinth and corner posts all intricately carved, while soft grey curtains hung beside the posts and a grey silk-fringed canopy formed a ceiling beneath which they would sleep and make love.
The room was roofed with double-framed oak beams, while a dark oak writing table and chair, a single cabinet with a drawer above it and a slightly incongruous chaise longue pushed against one wall, were all the furniture there was.
‘Pretty good huh?’ asked Pavin with a proud smile.
Deborah swallowed hard. ‘It’s certainly impressive.’
His smile faded. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘It’s nice to look at, but I suppose I’d expected something a bit more modern. Where do I keep my clothes and things?’
‘The dressing room’s full of closets and there’s a king-sized bathroom too, so you’ve got more mod cons than in that flat of yours.’
She realised he’d upset him. ‘I wasn’t criticising, just astonished! I mean, this is like stepping back in time.’
Pavin smiled again. ‘That’s right! I wanted to create that feeling. Hell, anyone can go and live it up in four-star splendour in some swanky hotel. I wanted something different.’
‘Well, you certainly got it.’ She glanced around more slowly. ‘Pavin, is that a TV console? Because if it is, they definitely didn’t have those in Elizabethan times!’
He pushed a button, set on the small writing table, and dark panels slid across to cover the offending set. ‘You’re right, but it’s useful for entertainment purposes.’
Deborah perched awkwardly on the edge of the high bed, but was relieved to find that the mattress was very comfortable. ‘What kind of programmes do you like?’
‘All sorts,’ he replied vaguely. ‘Mostly we rely on videos out here. Ordinary reception’s not that good. I’ve got my own generator because otherwise we wouldn’t get any electricity at all and then how could I use my electric toothbrush?’
He sat on the bed next to her and fondled the nape of her neck beneath her fall of blonde hair. ‘Did you miss me, Debbie?’
‘Yes, desperately.’
‘Where’s your hairbrush? I’d like to brush your hair.’
She handed him a small brush from her handbag, one that she used when blow-drying her hair, but he shook his head, went over to the writing desk, opened the drawer and pulled out a large, silver-backed brush. ‘This is the kind of thing I meant. Those bits of plastic aren’t the same at all. Close your eyes and you’ll see what I mean.’
Deborah lowered her lids and felt the bristles moving slowly and rhythmically through her hair. He brushed lightly at first and then more firmly, beginning at her scalp and running the brush down the hair where it fell over her shoulders. Deborah sighed, her shoulders relaxed as her whole scalp began to tingle and her mind started to float off.
When he finally stopped she opened her eyes in surprise. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Can’t have you falling asleep on me! Lie back on the bed a minute.’ She hitched herself higher up the bed and within seconds Pavin had removed her skirt and briefs leaving her naked from the waist down. Then he lay beside her, propped up on one arm, and kissed her lightly on the corner of her mouth.
‘Spread your legs wider,’ he whispered in her ear, then his tongue was swirling around her ear lobe and she wriggled sensuously, spreading her legs obediently as she did so.
Pavin’s left hand travelled across her stomach making swirling movements as it went, and then his fingers edged further down and brushed softly past the opening of her vagina. She moved slightly, expecting him to use a finger to penetrate her, but he ignored the movement and simply brushed upwards towards her stomach once more, again letting his fingers drift against the vaginal opening but without any great pressure.
It was tantalising and she wriggled again. ‘Keep still, Debbie,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t be in such a hurry. We’ve two weeks ahead of us, remember. Now keep your legs wide apart.’
He began to kiss her deeply on the mouth, his tongue penetrating her lips and sliding along her gums before darting between her teeth while at the same time
his fingers continued their relentless brushing against her vaginal opening.
Deborah could feel herself getting more and more moist as his kisses became increasingly passionate and the fingers persisted in their relentless, insidious arousal. Eventually, when she couldn’t repress a moan of desire, he let the pads of two of his fingers caress around the area of her clitoris. She could feel the bud swelling but he was careful not to touch it, only the surrounding moist, tingling tissue.
Deep within her abdomen, Deborah felt an ache starting, while between her legs her flesh seemed to tighten and it felt as though hidden strings were drawing her internal tissue towards a point somewhere beneath her pubic bone.
‘Please touch me there,’ she gasped as Pavin moved his mouth from hers.
‘Where?’ he asked, eyebrows raised in a query as he looked down at her frantic expression.
‘On it!’ she whispered, although she felt like screaming the words.
‘You mean here?’ One of his fingertips strayed to the shaft of the clitoris and caressed the side with such light pressure that only the jerk of her hips told her it had really happened.
‘Yes, but more, please Pavin. I don’t want to wait any longer.’
‘Sure you do, it’s fun like this.’
Deborah wasn’t certain he was right. The whole of the lower half of her body was so tense it was painful and because her legs were spread wide at his direction she could even feel tiny movements of air against her straining swollen vulva.
Pavin moved his mouth to her breasts and licked right across them, his tongue moving in a broad band across both nipples. Then he moved it back again and soon her breasts were swelling too and all the time he continued to stroke her vulva with the lightest of touches as she felt her juices flowing more than ever before in her life.
It seemed to go on for hours and Deborah could hear herself moaning and crying out while her head turned from side to side and she squirmed beneath his touch. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her hands dug into Pavin’s upper arms, the nails raking at the flesh beneath his shirt-sleeves.
‘Guess you’ve still got a lot to learn about patience,’ he said with a laugh. And as Deborah closed her eyes in relieved anticipation of sweet release he drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket and with amazing delicacy trailed the pointed corner of it across the very tip of Deborah’s straining nub of pleasure while at the same time he sat up and abruptly took her left nipple in his right hand, pinching it fiercely between thumb and forefinger.
The combination of the softly trailing silk and the streak of unexpected pain radiating through her tightly engorged breast resulted in a climax that made Deborah scream out and arch her back upwards, thrusting her belly high into the air so that Pavin could easily bend his head and lick at the tiny droplets of perspiration that were running from her naval down to her pubic hair.
This seemed to stop her climax from ebbing away as it would normally have done. Instead the waves of long-awaited release continued to ripple through her stomach and deep inside her she ached with a need for him to fill her but Pavin had no intention of doing that at this stage in the day.
Once Deborah’s climax had at last ended and her body was still he stroked her cheek quietly for a few minutes, then started to climb off the bed. ‘We’d better get ready for dinner. You can bath first. I’ve got one or two things to see to.’
Deborah stared up at him, one hand catching at his wrist. ‘Aren’t you going to finish making love?’
‘You mean you want more?’
‘I want you inside me!’ she exclaimed, bemused.
‘Later, honey. The night is young as they say. By the way, we dress for dinner. I’ve got a dress here that I bought for you just before I left London. I’d like you to wear that. It’s a kind of bluey-pink, you’ll find it in the first closet of the dressing room. It’s meant to cling, so don’t worry about wearing anything under it except for hold-ups if you like. They won’t spoil the line.’
Still exhausted by the way he’d made love to her, Deborah tried to gather herself together. ‘I’ve brought lots of clothes of my own,’ she protested.
‘And you’ll have plenty of time to wear them, but tonight, just for me, why not wear the one I bought?’
Deborah sighed. ‘All right.’
Pavin’s head lifted and he stared at her. ‘Hey, come on! It’s not like I’m trying to order you about, Debbie. I just want to see what you look like in a dress that I chose for you. It’s a present and I thought after this afternoon it would be nice to see you in it. If you really don’t like it, then fine, wear something you’ve brought. It’s no big deal.’
Deborah looked back at him. He was probably right, it wasn’t any big deal and it was nice to know he’d been thinking of her while he was still in London. The trouble was, the expression on his face didn’t match his words and for the first time she realised that when he wasn’t smiling his face was quite hard, and the corners of his mouth actually turned down in repose. For the first time she could see the hard-headed businessman beneath the benevolent and slightly misleading air of geniality that he used most of the time.
‘If it’s as nice as you think, then how can I refuse?’ she asked.
Pavin’s mouth turned up again as he smiled at her. ‘That’s my girl! You should find everything you need in the bathroom off the dressing room, but should anything be missing pull the tasselled cord and eventually one of the staff will find their way up here.’
‘Or I could just call you,’ she pointed out.
‘Sure, you can always call me.’ He waited until Deborah had left the room and then went to the innocuous-looking table opposite the foot of the bed. There he pushed a button to stop the filming. He knew that he’d positioned Deborah perfectly, with her feet pointing towards the camera, her legs spread wide so that her every reaction would have been recorded for them all to watch at a later date. He did hope she’d take to the entertainment that lay ahead that evening. It was always the first night that was the most difficult. After that they’d never had any problems, except with Angela, and even on the day he’d married her he’d known it was a mistake. His weakness for tall, slim blondes had let him down then, only this time he felt sure he’d found one who would share his sexual tastes as well.
After taking a bath in the largest bathtub she’d ever seen, presumably especially designed to take Pavin and partner, she thought to herself with a smile, Deborah used one of the fluffy towels to dry off and then checked through the closet for the dress Pavin had described.
When she took it off the hanger she knew that he was right, it would look marvellous on her. It was made of the softest silk; the colour a blend of pastel blues and pinks, and although it had a high neck there were large cut-away sections over the shoulders, between the breasts, down the middle of her spine and even on the tops of her thighs just below the hipbones. It was a sensuous dress, both in feel and style and once she’d pulled it on she was astonished at her appearance.
Where it touched her skin it really clung, emphasising her rounded breasts and narrow hips and the cut-outs gave the impression of showing far more than they actually did. She stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the dressing room and turned from side to side admiring herself in it. Behind her, reflected in the mirror, she saw Pavin come into the room.
He whistled softly. ‘You look stunning!’
‘I feel stunning. It’s a fantastic dress, Pavin. Thank you!’
He rested his hands on her hips and her stomach twitched as she leant back slightly to rest against the comforting breadth of him. ‘You can show your appreciation later. Why not put your hair up on top of your head? That would go with the elegance of the dress, don’t you think?’
Deborah nodded. ‘You’re right, and I’ve got some pearl earrings that would look fantastic.’
‘No underwear?’
She laughed. ‘No, no underwear, only the hold-up stockings you left so conveniently on the cupboard shelf. Will you men
all be in evening dress?’
‘Of course. While you’re finishing off your face, I’ll use the tub. The gong should sound at eight-fifteen, then we’ll go down.’
As Deborah carefully made up her eyes and sprayed herself with Laura Biagiotti’s ‘Venezia’ perfume she found that she was really looking forward to making her entrance at dinner on Pavin’s arm and already her body was looking forward to later that night when they returned to the privacy of their bedroom.
Chest-deep in bath water, Pavin was looking forward to the evening as well, but for rather different reasons.
Chapter Four
AT EXACTLY EIGHT-FIFTEEN the gong summoned everyone inside the castle to dinner, and Pavin escorted Deborah down the staircase, her hand resting lightly on the sleeve of his dark dinner jacket.
This time they went through the second of the two doors on the first floor of the castle. If their bedroom was sparse, this dining hall more than made up for it. The heavily-polished wooden floor had a rectangle of Persian carpet on it that left a four-foot border round the room. An ornate ceiling covered with paintings and carved figures supported the largest chandelier Deborah had ever seen in her life, while the long, damask-covered dining table could easily have seated twenty people. Large candelabras stood on pedestals at regular intervals along the walls, which were themselves covered either in embroidered tapestries or by huge paintings which, after a second glance, Deborah realised were graphic Chinese erotica. The colours were all variations on peacock-blue intershot with gold, and she was completely overwhelmed by the rich splendour of the room.
They were the last to arrive and as soon as they entered the men went to the table and pulled out the chairs for the women. Pavin pulled out a chair at the far end of the table for Deborah, then went to sit at the opposite end himself. She looked down the expanse of table and wished that they were closer. Somehow, like their bedroom, although for a very different reason, this wasn’t what she’d expected from the holiday either. It was like dining out in a stately home, rather than having a restful holiday on a remote island.
Deborah's Discovery Page 5
