The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by Cheryl Mildenhall

  Hillary felt he ought to be given due credit for his organisational skills if nothing else and, thanks to Gus, she was soon waving them off in two cars as they embarked on their second family day at the beach. Peace at last, she mused gratefully.

  For a while she mooched around the house in her bathrobe, idly flicking through a few magazines, trying out a couple of new hairstyles in front of her dressing-table mirror before finally showering and dressing in yet another minuscule G-string bikini, this time in a bright electric blue.

  She had toyed with the idea of going out after all. Perhaps to wander down to the village and stop at the pub for a drink, or even carry on down to the quay. Although she hardly liked to admit it to herself, she was anxious to bump into Haldane again and she felt more than a little nervous about spending the day at Harwood Hall alone. Giving herself a mental shake, she wandered into the kitchen and fixed a jug of heavily iced Pimms, taking care to slice the fruit into even manageable slices.

  She carried the jug, a glass, her sunglasses and a few magazines out to the patio and set them down on a small wooden side table next to a comfortable sun lounger. Shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun she looked up at the sky, sighing with pleasure at the unbroken expanse of clear deep blue. Remembering her suntan oil she stepped back inside the house. To her surprise when she returned there was someone else seated on her sun lounger. At the sound of her footsteps he jumped up guiltily but Hillary had already spotted him and she guessed he must be Fearn’s mysterious brother.

  ‘Hello.’ She gave him what she hoped was an open friendly smile.

  His voice was soft and lilting as he spoke. ‘I thought everyone had gone out.’

  ‘Not everyone.’

  For some inexplicable reason Hillary didn’t want him to assume that she was completely alone at the Hall. She eased herself down on the sun lounger and looked around for a second seat. His eyes followed hers and they both homed in on a small folding chair propped up against the wall to the kitchen garden. He crossed the patio in a couple of strides, picked up the chair and shook it open.

  Sitting down some distance from her, he surveyed his surroundings in silence. Hillary groped around unsuccessfully for something else to say and, when nothing came, gave up and uncapped her suntan oil instead. For several minutes she concentrated on oiling her arms and legs then she turned to him, surprised to see that he was staring at her, a blank expression on his face.

  ‘What part of Scotland do you and Fearn come from, er, er . . .?’ She realised she hadn’t asked him the most basic question, his name.

  ‘Torran.’

  ‘Oh, Torran, that’s very unusual.’ She couldn’t help wondering why such a young man should make her feel so gauche. As Chloe had estimated, he only appeared to be in his very early twenties.

  ‘It’s a traditional Caithness name, so’s Fearn for that matter. That’s where my sister and I are from, you see, Caithness – in Scotland,’ he added.

  Hillary smiled. ‘They’re lovely names, both of them.’ Then she added, ‘Are you older than Fearn?’

  He nodded. ‘Three years.’

  She did a rapid calculation, at some point Alicia had mentioned that Fearn was only nineteen, so that meant he was twenty-two. After pouring herself a glass of Pimms, she offered the jug to him. ‘I’ll get you a glass,’ she offered but he shook his head.

  ‘If it’s all the same to you I’ll have a beer.’ He stood up and walked across the patio, through the kitchen garden to the main house. A few minutes later he returned with a can of Budweiser.

  Hillary glanced at the can and laughed. ‘I don’t know why but I just assumed you’d come back with some obscure Scottish brew.’

  ‘Not likely, it’s all pretty bad. I prefer this stuff.’

  He let his head fall backwards as he took a long draught of the cold beer and Hillary took the opportunity to have a proper look at him. He was certainly good-looking but not in the conventional sense. All his features were exceptionally well defined but each so strong that they seemed to clash rather than complement each other. He also looked quite different depending upon the angle from which she viewed him. On one side his face seemed soft and round, almost childlike. Yet from the opposite profile his face was almost entirely composed of angles, with a sharp brow, a pointed jutting chin and a well-chiselled nose.

  One feature which was consistent was the amount of dark hair he sported – from collar-length tousled locks, thick silken eyebrows and eyelashes, down to a generous layer of stubble. From where she was seated she couldn’t see the colour of his eyes but even from a distance she could see they were genuine, smiling eyes and his mouth too was slightly up-turned at the corners and generous, with full blood-red lips. After a quick assessment, Hillary decided that despite his slight air of mystery she liked him and had nothing to fear.

  She drained her glass and poured another, enjoying the way the seemingly innocent cocktail snaked its fiery way down her throat to the pit of her stomach, igniting small sparks along the way. Torran still didn’t appear inclined to indulge in idle conversation so she put on her sunglasses and settled her head back against the headrest, turning her face up to the sun.

  Every so often she would sneak a look at the young man from between half-closed lids, the sunglasses covering her voyeurism. She was slightly disappointed to note that he seemed intensely interested in his newspaper, reading each page with careful deliberation so that it was a good half an hour before he turned over to the next.

  What she didn’t realise was that he saw her looking at him and as soon as she closed her eyes he would return to observing her, his young eyes raking her near-naked body with undisguised longing. Presently, lulled by the soporific combination of heat and alcohol, she drifted off into a light, dreamless sleep. Torran smiled to himself and put down the newspaper, now he could allow his eyes and his imagination full rein.

  Ever since he had arrived at Harwood Hall he had been assailed by overwhelming feelings of unrequited lust. The two women who met him at the entrance, the uptight blonde and the other one, Chloe, had shown more interest in him in the space of five minutes than the handful of girls back in his own village had ever exhibited. Of course, these women were older, richer and more sophisticated but it didn’t alter the fact that he wouldn’t have to make all the running with them, or risk having his face slapped for attempting to steal a kiss, let alone anything more physical.

  He removed his jacket and leaned back in the chair. This one was a bit different to the other two, he had recognised that straight away. She was slightly younger for a start and less, less . . .? He groped around in his mind for the right description, less ‘tarty’ he supposed, for want of a better word.

  But also he sensed that he could really talk to this one if he wanted to, about important things like life and ecology – anything. He would have been shocked if he’d known she was a teacher – he hated teachers as a rule. They came under the heading of authority and he despised authority of any kind. At heart he was a rebel, a rebel without a brew, he grinned ruefully to himself, shaking his empty beer can, the sound of the ring pull rattling against the sides until it roused Hillary.

  It took a few moments for her to come to and remember where she was. A split second later she remembered Torran and glanced over to where he’d been sitting. His chair was empty. With a slight feeling of regret she looked at her watch, it was just after midday. This time, she decided, she wouldn’t be caught out in the noonday sun.

  Rising awkwardly from the low sun lounger, she noticed first Torran, making his way back through the kitchen garden and then, coming from the opposite direction, the tall rangy figure of Darius. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Although, to be honest, the sight of both men sent small darts of desire shooting through her. She gave herself a mental shake, wondering if she was simply becoming a nymphomaniac.

  Torran arrived a second or two before Darius and automatically sat down again in the same chair. With a deliberately casua
l air he opened the fresh can of beer, noting the interaction between the girl and the man he detested most in the world, his half-brother.

  Wishing that this time she was wearing something a little less revealing, Hillary stepped forwards to greet Darius politely. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’ She genuinely meant it.

  Darius almost smiled, trying hard not to stare at her scantily clad torso. ‘I came to check that you are fully recovered.’ He glanced in Torran’s direction and raised an eyebrow enquiringly. ‘I hope you are not pestering our guests, you know the converted wings are out of bounds to you?’

  Hillary eyed the two men, feeling slightly embarrassed. ‘It’s okay, I invited him.’ She stared challengingly at Darius, aware that there was more than a little friction between the two men.

  Torran stood up. ‘I should be off,’ he said, but, although his body seemed to be leaving, his voice was unenthusiastic.

  Recognising his unwillingness to go and nervous at being left alone with Darius, Hillary was quick to intervene. ‘No, please stay.’

  Torran nodded his thanks and sat down again. Darius glowered but said nothing. Desperate to break the ice, Hillary asked Torran where he worked.

  ‘Most of the time I work on the estate.’ He glanced around and sipped his beer, looking at Darius who nodded imperceptibly. He continued. ‘Although I’ll be spending the next couple of weeks working at the Caithness glass works near here. I’m going to be training some of the new apprentices.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Hillary remembered seeing Caithness signs on the way from King’s Lynn. ‘And as you’re from Caithness in Scotland you know all about blowing glass?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Torran smiled. ‘Caithness babies are not born with a glass-blowing tube in their mouths, you know. I had to train for four years and I’m still learning now.’

  ‘Pardon me, I stand corrected.’ Hillary waved her arm in the general direction of the kitchen. ‘I’d like to get out of the sun for a while, would either of you like a cup of tea, or something stronger perhaps?’

  Both men nodded and followed her into the house. Darius accepted her offer of a cup of tea but Torran shook his can of beer.

  ‘This’ll do me for now, thanks,’ he said.

  As she waited for the kettle to boil, Hillary couldn’t help sneaking a glance at the two men seated at the kitchen table, wondering what their connection was, if any. Both were equally dark and quite sinister in their own way and, although Torran seemed much more open and friendly than Darius, Hillary suspected he had a dark side that could be quite frightening.

  Darius, of course, was just a complete enigma as far as she was concerned. Mostly serious and unsmiling she felt he also harboured innumerable secrets. It seemed unlikely but, if it wasn’t for the striking difference in their accents, Darius and Torran could almost be taken for father and son, she thought.

  Under Darius’s firm insistence, Torran opened up about himself, regaling them with stories of his childhood and the village where he was brought up and was currently bemoaning the lack of female company in both his home village and Harwood.

  ‘That’s one of the drawbacks to living in a close-knit community,’ Darius was saying. ‘You can’t go around deflowering the local virgins without everyone knowing about it.’

  A slight flush rose on Hillary’s cheeks but Torran blushed even harder and in that instant she realised that for all his macho swagger and bravado he probably hadn’t had much experience with girls, or with women at any rate.

  ‘You need a special dispensation from the Pope just to kiss one of them.’ Torran laughed ruefully and glanced at Hillary.

  Suddenly their eyes met and she felt as though the room was receding and Darius along with it. All she seemed able to focus upon were Torran’s serious hazel eyes, the irises mottled with muted colours like pieces of broken glass – Caithness glass, she mused thoughtfully.

  She had tied a sarong around herself when they’d entered the house, feeling the need for a little modesty but now she felt as though the brightly coloured material was restricting her somehow, stifling her body when all she wanted to do was throw off her clothes and make love to Torran like he’d never been loved before. All of a sudden she experienced a primitive urge to show him how real women enjoyed sex, not little village girls bound up by tradition and inhibition.

  She knew he sensed it and felt that he could almost read her mind. Then she caught Darius staring at her too and realised, with a deep feeling of shock and embarrassment, that he could also see inside her head and translate her most basic, carnal thoughts. Whatever Torran thought he could see there, Darius knew for certain.

  As if to torment her, Darius stretched out a hand and stroked his finger down her bare arm. ‘You’re developing quite a tan. Those who scoff at the idea of holidaying in Norfolk just aren’t in the know, are they?’

  Unable to speak, Hillary shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Torran, nor Darius. His finger was burning a path across her shoulder.

  ‘Have you been away on holiday yet, Torran?’ She felt desperate to keep the conversation going.

  ‘Not away, no, I always spend my holiday weeks back home.’

  Despite herself, Hillary was incredulous. ‘Do you mean you’ve never been abroad?’

  The young man shook his head. He didn’t seem particularly bothered by his lack of worldliness. She thought about all the countries she had visited but then remembered that she hadn’t really started to travel until she was in her twenties.

  ‘There’s plenty of time I suppose,’ she muttered. Darius had stopped stroking her, much to her disappointment.

  They were silent for a few minutes then, as if on cue, they all looked at their watches. Hillary laughed nervously, wondering who would be the first to leave. Neither man moved an inch.

  ‘Shall we go back outside?’ Hillary suggested to no one in particular.

  Darius and Torran rose from their seats, both waiting for her to lead the way. She found another garden chair for Darius and resumed her own seat. After uncapping the bottle of suntan oil, she began to anoint her limbs all over again. Both men followed her movements with their eyes but said nothing, each lost in their own private thoughts. A few minutes later they were startled by the sound of a car in the driveway.

  Hillary cocked an ear and said, ‘That sounds like Odile and Theo. They’ve been ballooning, you know.’ She smiled at Darius as he was the only one of the two men who had actually met Odile before.

  As Odile walked out of the kitchen door onto the patio Torran sat up straight – he hadn’t met this one before and she looked worth meeting. With her long red hair she looked a bit like the girls back home but much more sophisticated. He rose and offered her his chair. Suppressing the urge to smile at his chivalry, Hillary introduced them.

  ‘Chloe and Alicia told me you had arrived yesterday but I was otherwise engaged.’ Odile blushed prettily, causing Hillary to stifle another smile. By all accounts Odile had done very little but make love to Theo ever since he had arrived – in fact it was a miracle that they’d actually gone out for the day.

  At that moment, Theo, the object of this passion, appeared in the doorway holding a bottle of Mexican beer. ‘Anyone want a beer?’ He waved the bottle in the air then looked straight at Torran who just sat open mouthed.

  Hillary couldn’t help wondering if he had ever seen anyone quite as striking as Theo before; there couldn’t be that many black Parisian men in the wilds of Scotland. Odile beat her to the introductions this time. Neither Torran nor Darius had met Theo previously.

  After ten minutes or so of small talk, Darius rose to his feet. ‘I hate to break up the party but I still have some work to do, please excuse me.’

  Hillary glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time that day. Surprised to note that it was almost five o’clock, she said, ‘I hadn’t realised it was so late. Chloe and Alicia should be back soon.’

  She wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Chloe a
nd Alicia that alarmed him but Torran jumped to his feet too. ‘I must be going too. I promised to meet some friends at the pub,’ he said.

  Hillary sighed inwardly. Only a short while ago she had been enjoying the company of two very sexy men and now they were both about to leave. The prospect of an evening at home suddenly filled her with gloom and she was almost tempted to ask Torran if he had any objections to her accompanying him to the pub. She looked up but he was already halfway across the vegetable garden and Darius was nowhere to be seen.

  As it turned out, the evening was not as bad as she feared. Considering they had been forced to spend the whole day together, Chloe, Alicia, Clive and Gus were in remarkably good spirits. They had brought some take-away Chinese food with them and, as soon as she started to help Alicia unwrap each dish, Hillary realised how hungry she was. Perhaps it was because Gus and Clive were due to leave early the next morning but Alicia and Chloe were on amazingly good form, making remarks that were genuinely witty instead of a thinly disguised bitch about someone they knew, or even each other, and treating their husbands with easy affection.

  Hillary looked around the table happily. Odile and Theo had returned to their room ‘for the last time for ages’, as Odile tearfully pointed out. But the other two couples were there, as large as life, laughing and joking and taking every opportunity to include her in their fun. After dinner Gus suggested a game of Trivial Pursuit and, being by far the most well informed of the group, Hillary won easily.

  ‘You cheated!’ accused Gus genially, leaning back so far in his chair that Hillary was afraid he would topple over.

  ‘How could I?’ She laughed in response.

  ‘Easy –’ he leaned forwards again, drawing her to him conspiratorially ‘– you spent all day reading the questions just so you’d win.’

  ‘Aah, you found me out, Gus, I give in.’