by Maggie Brown
Austen raised her eyebrows in amusement when she approached. “Ladies, meet Sophie, best known for uncovering frozen artefacts and sacred sites.”
“Ah,” remarked a woman in a multicoloured maxi-dress, “an archaeologist.”
“She’s had a very fruitful dig,” Austen said with a snigger.
Sophie studied her, noting that she was again dressed in black, this time with a few chains hanging off her belt. The bad-girl look was obviously her trademark. “Yes… Lucky me. But the site is ancient history to you, Austen, isn’t it? You found nothing.” She turned to the other women. “I’m not an archaeologist, but I did go on a dig for two months once. I learnt that if you want to find something of value, interpreting data is just as important as the excavation. Then if you use a bulldozer instead of a trowel, you destroy the site. Isn’t that so, Austen?”
The oldest woman of the group gave a hearty laugh. “I don’t think you two are talking about digging up some old pots, but whatever you are referring to, this little lady has your measure, Austen.” After she introduced the other four women, she wriggled an empty chair between Austen and herself. “I’m Bonnie. Sit yourself down and join us. We’re all poets, or profess to be anyhow. And what do you do?”
“I work for Eleanor Godwin.”
“She’s the housekeeper,” chipped in Austen.
Sophie shot her a look of dislike but nodded. “I am.”
“I imagine she would be good to work for,” remarked Bonnie.
“She’s the best—dream job actually.”
“So how long have you been with her?”
“I’m only here with her on this holiday.”
A woman wearing glasses interjected dryly, “She’d run rings around all the wealthy here. More talent in her little toe than most of the pretentious idiots that came over on the boat with us.”
“Don’t be so judgmental,” said Florence in the maxi-dress.
“Well she does. Have you ever heard Shakespeare performed like that?”
“I haven’t,” chipped in Sophie. “She made all the women so…so alive. The way she enacted the Constance ‘I am not mad speech’ was unreal. It gave me goose bumps.”
Bonnie looked at her appraisingly. “You’re remarkably versatile for a housekeeper. Going on digs and familiar with one of Shakespeare’s lesser-known works. Is this a one-off or your permanent employment?”
“No pressure cleaning someone’s house. Who wants to have a heart attack at fifty?” said Sophie airily.
Florence slapped her on the back. “I agree. I can see you don’t give a flick about convention. Me too.” She reached down to pluck a bottle from an ice bucket at her feet. She popped the champagne cork with a flourish. “Top up your glasses…it’s free booze and we can’t solve the woes of the world sober.”
Sophie held out her flute, watching the bubbles rise. It promised to be a fun afternoon. During a heated debate about some obscure poet, Austen’s arm snaked around her shoulder. Sophie rolled her eyes—she was nothing if not persistent. Then while the others were still arguing, Austen leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Did you have a good night?”
Sophie turned to study her, realizing it wasn’t a casual question. Austen was fishing. “Hell yeah,” she murmured back, then hummed happily, pleased to see a frown appear like a thundercloud on Austen’s face. When she patted the singer’s leg, it twitched under her hand. “It was so definitely worth the wait. Quality not quantity. You should try it sometime.”
“Shit you’re a know-all. A bitchy know-all.”
“Well that was a little nasty,” said Sophie unruffled. “I was merely stating a fact.”
“What fact?” asked Florence, catching the last of the conversation.
“I was just suggesting to Austen that she should be a little more discriminating in her love life.”
All eyes swivelled to Austen who shifted uneasily in her seat. “Don’t believe all you read in the tabloids,” she muttered.
“You mean you’re not Ms. Don Juan,” asked Florence. “How disappointing.”
Austen gave her a wink. “Well, you could always test the waters.”
There was no denying the sparkle of interest on Florence’s face. Sophie just shook her head. As the poets launched into another contentious subject, Austen put her mouth back to Sophie’s ear. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”
“You can’t take a joke,” she whispered back. “What about we bury the hatchet? I’ve a favour to ask.”
“Oh? That’s interesting. What do I get in return?”
“I’ll come over and make dinner for you one night and do some baking to stock up your supplies. I do awesome cookies.”
“Sounds enticing. What do I have to do?”
Sophie sucked in a breath. “One of my best friends works for a paper. I’d like to do a photo shoot of you for her. Nothing gross, just you playing and singing…stuff like that.”
“Okay.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “On one condition. You don’t tell Eleanor why you’re cooking me a meal. Tomorrow night then.”
Sophie grimaced. Crap! Eleanor was going to be so pissed off, but there was no other option. The photographs would go a long way to keeping her job. “All right. It’s a deal.”
When a sudden silence fell around her, she looked up to see a smiling Eleanor walking toward them. She gave a wave. “Hi Ellie…um…Eleanor. Come and meet these women.”
After she did the introductions, Sophie stood back, proudly watching Eleanor weave her charm. It didn’t take long for her to twig that she seemed to be putting in extra effort. Sophie suspected it was because of Austen’s magnetic presence and Eleanor was launching a counterattack. It was evident by Austen’s stiff stance that she thought so too. Then out of the corner of her eye, Sophie caught movement, and Ginny floated up in a swirl of pink silk.
She put her hand out for Austen to kiss as she took stock of her outfit. “My, my, Austen, those pants are so tight you look like you’ve been poured into them. You’re certainly an alluring creature.”
Austen grinned, mollified.
“Now you’ll have to excuse us, for Eleanor and I have some business to attend to in my cabin. We’ll need your help as well, Sophie.”
“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you ladies, and I’ll be…ah…seeing you, Austen.”
Sophie could only gawk around at the opulent fittings as they made their way through the boat to Ginny’s stateroom. It was considerably larger, far more up-market than a cabin on a commercial liner, or at least the one Sophie had had on her one and only Pacific Island cruise in economy class.
As soon as they entered, Ginny went to the mirror, brushed her hair and walked back to the door. “Right, I’m off,” she said briskly. “Have fun.”
When the door clicked behind her, Eleanor pulled Sophie into her arms. “Now, I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do since we arrived.”
“You fox,” said Sophie, laughing delightedly.
“I am, my sweet.” When Eleanor kissed her, the intoxicating taste of champagne was on her tongue and the smell of her perfume mixed with a whiff of the sea, tickled her nose. Then the heady scent of arousal drifted up as she was led to the bed.
“I’m like a thirsty traveller in the desert who has found water,” murmured Eleanor. “I want to keep drinking. I hope you do too.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eleanor looked down lovingly at the naked figure pressed against her in the bed. Sophie’s head was pillowed in the curve of her shoulder, her arm flung over her waist. Eleanor took a deep breath of her scent, enjoying the fragrance that reminded her of wildflowers and cinnamon. Sophie’s breathing was slow and even, a sign she was still snoozing after their long spell of lovemaking. Eleanor tilted her head to take in the curve of the hip, then careful not to wake her, allowed herself the luxury of cuddling closer. A wave of tenderness washed through her, so overpowering that it triggered a trickle of unease. If she didn’t know better, she would have said she was
falling in love.
Falling in love. She ran the phrase around in her head, took it apart and put it together again with a great deal of caution. Was she ready to commit to someone? The answer sprang into her mind with no hesitation. Absolutely. She’d never been so happy in all her life. The affair with Maria might have been passionate and exciting, but what she had now was so much more. She ghosted her hand down the length of Sophie’s body with a surge of love. Was Sophie ready to commit to her? She desperately hoped so.
Her thoughts wandered to Austen. What was it with the oversexed vixen? Why did she have to try to bed every woman she met? And more to the point, why would she want to? Surely, out of the myriads of women she’d slept with, someone must have caught her eye. The sad thing was, they had once been the best of friends, but now Austen’s behaviour was trashy.
She glanced down when she felt Sophie stir. In the light filtering through the porthole, she looked adorable with her hair mussed, her skin flushed from sleep and her lips still plump from their kisses. Her face broke into a gentle smile when she caught Eleanor’s gaze and reached up to lightly stroke her cheek. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hello yourself,” said Eleanor, and kissed her, savouring the warm sweet taste of her mouth. “Hmm…I could do that forever. I didn’t know there could be such pleasure in a kiss.”
With an inarticulate murmur, Sophie drew closer and claimed her mouth again. This kiss was deeper, more intoxicating and Eleanor felt the now familiar erotic ache begin between her legs. She pulled back with a gasp. “I’m nearly ready to come again. What have you done to me? You’ve turned me into a sexual creature I barely recognize.”
Sophie didn’t answer, simply slipped down to take her with her mouth and tongue. As Eleanor felt her orgasm rise, she wound her fingers around Sophie’s head and arched into her. When the storm broke, her emotions shattered as the tide of pleasure barrelled through every nerve ending in her body. She screamed out a heartrending cry, “I love you, my darling.”
Sophie went still and slowly withdrew until they no longer touched. With downcast eyes, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Eleanor swallowed hard, the euphoria of the climax changed quickly into dread. What had she done? She had made the declaration in the heat of moment, without a thought that Sophie might not reciprocate her feelings. “Oh God, I’m sorry I blurted that out. I don’t expect you to feel that way about me…our romance is too new.” Nervously, she plucked at Sophie’s arm. “Look at me, darling. Please. I don’t expect you to say it too now, but I hope you will one day.”
“I have to tell you something, Ellie.”
Eleanor felt something cold squeeze her heart. “Go on.”
“I promised to cook Austen dinner tomorrow night.”
“Oh?” This wasn’t what she had expected her to say. “You’re going over to her place tomorrow? Alone?”
Sophie looked miserable when she turned around. “Yes. Um…you’re not exactly invited. It…it was something I said I’d do on an impulse. I gave her my word, Ellie.”
“But why would you want to go without me, Sophie. I thought…I thought we’re together now.”
“We are. Can’t you trust me?”
“It not you I don’t trust, it’s Austen.” Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut, remembering how much she had been hurt years ago. And now it was happening again. “She’s done it before to me. You must wonder why I dislike her so much. Didn’t she tell you?”
Sophie shook her head. “She said if I wanted to know I would have to ask you.”
“We were once best friends,” Eleanor began quietly. “Seven years ago I was in Rome on location, and she had a gig in a nightclub there, when I met a beautiful woman…um…Maria…at a dinner party. I was besotted with her, we had an affair, and to make a long story short, Austen made a no-holds-barred play for her even knowing how I felt about her.”
“That would have hurt.”
“It caused an irrevocable rift in our friendship. I hated her for it. Friends don’t do that to each other. We had a bitter argument…things were said which couldn’t be forgiven. After that, Austen made quite a name for herself with women.”
Sophie watched her with a frown. “So, where is Maria now?”
“It was only an affair. She was married,” Eleanor said flatly, wishing she had just trusted Sophie. Admitting to an affair with a married woman didn’t put her in a favourable light.
“So,” said Sophie, “I gather from your reaction when we met that I look like this woman.”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s a blow to my ego. I’m with you because I look like a former lover who cheated on her husband. Now that would make any girl feel valued.”
Eleanor put her arms around her waist and pressed into her back. “You know perfectly well how I feel about you has nothing to do with any former lover. If you don’t know that by now, I don’t know what we’re doing here. I said I love you Sophie and I meant it.”
“Sorry, I was just being flippant because I’m jealous. I want you to like me for myself and not because of someone who, as far as I’m concerned, didn’t deserve one ounce of your love. Where is she now, by the way?”
“It’s complicated. She’s…well…she’s married to someone very important, whose name I really can’t divulge.”
“Fair enough, I won’t pry. We all have our secrets and at least she’s long since gone.” Sophie moved restlessly. “I still need to tell you something.”
Eleanor gave a sigh. She didn’t feel she could cope with any more surprises. “Shush. Please…no more secrets today. Tell me tomorrow. Now we’d better have the bed linen changed, give the key back to Ginny and say good-bye. The party will be winding down—the boat sails in two hours.”
They reached the outer deck to see Ginny seated there with the poets, watching the sunset. Austen was nowhere in sight. Ginny bounded to her feet, pulled Eleanor into a hug and whispered. “All went well I see. You’ve been away quite a while.”
“Trust you to be counting. We’re ready to head home.” Then she added with a stern look, “When you’re talking to Mum, you needn’t elaborate on what’s happening here. I’ll tell her myself.”
Ginny put her hand across her heart in outrage. “Really, Ellie, you know I’m the soul of discretion.”
“Huh! Pigs might fly too. Just don’t say too much. I don’t want her interfering.” Eleanor caught Sophie looking at her quizzically. “My mother is a law unto herself. She’s an acquired taste and only in small doses.”
Then Ginny swept Sophie into a hug with a murmured, “Look after our girl. No doubt I’ll be seeing you again.”
They slipped away down the gangplank, and later from their vantage point on the terrace in the villa, watched the grand yacht sail out of the bay.
When its lights could no longer be seen on the dark ocean, Eleanor entwined their fingers together. “You’ll sleep in my bed for the rest of our stay here, won’t you?”
Sophie looked up, her irises dark and stormy under her lashes. “If you want me to.”
“I do. You belong there now.”
She took Eleanor’s hand, pressing the palm to her lips. “That would be perfect.”
“I’ve never actually asked a woman to share my bedroom before,” said Eleanor.
She felt herself blush as Sophie said curiously, “Haven’t you had women stay over?”
“I do date, but…well…” She stopped abruptly. “Come on. I’ve had enough Eleanor exposés for the time being. What about you?”
“My home isn’t exactly an ideal place to invite someone for an extended stay. It’s a cramped duplex with leaky plumbing, and if the couple next door have an argument, every word can be heard through the thin walls. Not to mention other things they do that go bump in the night.”
Laughing, Eleanor gave her hand a squeeze. “Then I’m glad you have a pokey apartment. Now let’s go have something to eat and watch a soppy movie.”
* * *
After Eleanor topped off a second glass of wine, her mood sank lower as she glanced again at the clock in the lounge. Eleven o’clock and Sophie still hadn’t come home. What were they doing? She knew she shouldn’t be sitting and drinking alone, but any attempt about being rational about Sophie was fruitless. As much as she knew it was soul-destroying, she was worried.
When ten minutes later she at last heard the crunch of shoes on the pebbles outside, she hurried to the front door and flung it open.
“Eleanor, what a nice surprise,” said Austen.
Sophie poked her head around the doorframe. “Hi Ellie, I didn’t expect you to wait up.”
Eleanor gave her long relieved hug. “Would you mind if I had a word alone with Austen.”
“No, I’m ready for bed. I’ll pop up stairs and have a shower,” said Sophie, giving her a quick kiss. “Bye, Austen.”
“I won’t be long,” Eleanor said, and when she disappeared up the stairs, she turned to Austen. “We can talk on the terrace. It’s a pleasant night.”
Outside in the warm air, Eleanor could barely suppress the dislike she felt for the singer, who lounged insolently against the railing. She couldn’t deny Austen looked particularly attractive tonight, with her bright hair carelessly tumbled and her tattooed skin glowing in the moonlight. “So,” she began, “is this payback for the things we said to each other in Rome, or have you become so immoral that you try to have every woman you see, even if she’s with someone else?”
“What do you think? When did you become such a judgmental prig?”
“At least I’m not trash.”
“Damn you, Eleanor. How do you know what I am?”
“Your reputation precedes you. And to think we were once friends,” Eleanor retorted.
Pale now, Austen pushed away from the railing until they were only a foot apart. “Well you certainly threw that friendship into the garbage.”
“I threw it away? You’re the one who couldn’t keep her hands off Maria.”
“I did it for you…to show you what she was. She used you Ellie, and you couldn’t see it. She was a player. You were only one in a long line of lovers…she was screwing you in more ways than one.”
