Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled With Rubies

by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker

  ‘Yes,’ he called back.

  Without a word I walked out and presented myself to him, turning very slowly so that he could view the dress in all its ghastliness, while his eyes popped and his jaw dropped.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said at last. ‘Except that I’m sorry.’

  I’d recovered my sense of humour by this time. ‘I suppose you could see this as a positive sign,’ I pointed out. ‘It means she’s taking me seriously, which is what you want.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. And I’ll buy you a new wardrobe tomorrow.’

  Jack had also changed, since his clothes had got wet. Now he was in casuals, but he still managed to look as though he owned the world.

  I don’t know what I ate, I was too tired and hungry to care. Jack served me himself, as tenderly as a mother, eating little and always watching out for my needs.

  ‘More champagne?’ he asked me once.

  ‘I could murder a cup of tea,’ I said.

  He was on the phone to the kitchens at once. Just as he finished there was a knock at the door. He was scowling as he went to open it, but he smiled when he saw who it was.

  ‘Jenny, Charles—come in.’

  It was the man and girl I’d seen holding hands on deck, and then later when they showed Vanner below.

  ‘We’re not disturbing anything, are we?’ the girl asked, coming in and smiling at me.

  ‘Not a thing,’ I said, liking her at once. She was in her twenties, very pretty, with real warmth in her smile.

  I liked her even more when I learned why she’d come.

  ‘We’re the same size,’ she said, opening a bag and showing me the contents. ‘So I brought you some of my clothes. I thought Selina would try something, and I can see she has.’

  ‘Bless you, Jenny,’ Jack said.

  I blessed her too when I saw the clothes. They were beautiful, and they fitted.

  Jenny was a darling. She could see that I was almost asleep, and she took Charles away quickly.

  ‘You need some sleep,’ Jack said. ‘Get to bed.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll sleep on the floor.’

  I looked at the bed. It was vast.

  ‘That seems a bit unfair,’ I mused.

  ‘There are some spare pillows I could put down the centre,’ he offered.

  ‘Sounds a good idea.’

  It didn’t seem such a good idea when I looked at the nightdress Jenny had brought me. It was nightwear for a bride, low at the front and transparent everywhere. It forced me to reconsider the situation.

  Jack undressed in the bathroom. When he returned and saw me dressed for the night, his eyebrows went up. I looked awful—shapeless and sexless. But that was probably a good thing.

  ‘Don’t tell me Jenny brought you that old sack?’

  ‘No, this comes from Selina’s maid. Jenny’s nightdress wouldn’t fit me.’

  ‘But you must be the same—’

  He stopped quickly and I saw his face change as he realised that there was more to this than being the same size.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes—right—’

  He was actually turning pink, which I reckoned didn’t happen very often.

  He had some trouble finding his pyjamas, which puzzled me until I realised that he probably didn’t wear them much. They were white silk, and he looked just as good in them as he had in everything else. They were also semi-transparent, which might have been why he got into bed quickly, looking even pinker.

  I climbed in the other side, wishing I could have worn Jenny’s sexy nightie. In these surroundings, and getting into bed with a man whose body I already knew so incongruously well, it would have been the right thing to wear. And if it did leave me half naked—well, he was getting used to that too.

  I reasoned it wouldn’t have been fair to give him the wrong impression. Hell! What wrong impression? We’d got past that stage in the first five minutes.

  So here I was, lying in bed with the sexiest man I’d ever met, with a pillow between us, trying desperately to think pure thoughts.

  It was very, very difficult.

  I wondered if he was having the same trouble.

  Perhaps not, since he’d just seen me dressed in sackcloth and looking like King Kong’s mother.

  Pity!

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a prude, no matter what previous events might suggest. I’ve lived around some very charming people. Too charming, some of them, and they could leave you wishing you hadn’t listened to a word they’d said. But it had been fun while it lasted.

  I’m not what Vanner thought, but I like do fellers. I flirt and fool around, dress to catch their eye, and when I’ve done that—well, things happen. Nice things.

  Unfortunately my romances have tended to be very short-lived, for reasons I can’t go into here. But I knew a fantastic guy when I found myself in bed with him, even with a pillow between us.

  ‘All right to turn out the light?’ he asked, in a voice that I thought sounded tense.

  ‘Yes, fine,’ I said.

  He turned it out and for a while we both lay in the darkness, listening to each other’s breathing.

  I had a problem. I usually slept naked, and the sackcloth I was wearing made me as hot as fire. Well, something did, anyway. And I began to sense that it was the same for him, if his movements were anything to go by. He tossed and turned and finally pulled off his pyjama jacket.

  So then I had to start thinking pure thoughts all over again.

  But I had my moment. Half an hour later, after a lot more fretful tossing around, he suddenly leapt out of bed and shot into the bathroom as though all the devils in hell were after him. A moment later I heard the unmistakable sound of a shower.

  I slept happily after that.

  I awoke first, in the early light, and propped myself up to look at him.

  He looked fantastic asleep, even with a night’s growth of beard. It was thick, dark, and gave him the air of a pirate.

  He was bare-chested, not having replaced the pyjama jacket. I wondered what else he hadn’t replaced, but from here I couldn’t see. What I could see was that he really did have a hairy chest. Rich and curly. Just as I like it.

  He opened his eyes.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. Then he became aware of his chest. ‘Sorry about this. I just—’

  He was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a cheery voice calculated to freeze the blood.

  ‘Coo-ee! Is anyone awake?’

  ‘Oh, Lord, it’s Grace,’ he said desperately.

  ‘I’ve brought your coffee,’ came the voice through the door. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Just a minute, Grace,’ he yelled. ‘I’m not decent.’ Under his breath he muttered, ‘Where is it? Where is it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My jacket. Oh, there it is on the floor.’

  He leaned down to scoop it up, accidentally revealing the answer to the question that had been troubling me. He’d probably left them in the bathroom.

  Inspiration seized me and I grabbed the pyjama jacket from his hands, tossing it back onto the floor.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ he hissed.

  ‘No, but you are,’ I told him. ‘You’re supposed to be nuts about me, and you’re sleeping in that? Come on—make it look real.’

  As I spoke I was pulling the pillow out of the bed, tossing it away, then stripping off the sack and pushing it down the bed where nobody could see it.

  ‘Push the sheet down to your waist,’ I said, and when he did so I put my arm around his neck, trying not to be too aware of the length of his naked body against mine. ‘Now we look real.’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘That’s the spirit.’ He raised his voice. ‘OK, Grace.’

  I don’t know exactly what Grace had expected to see, but it must have been a lot less than what she did see—because she looked as if she’d swallowed a hedgehog, prickles and all. I nestled against Jack, smiling at her as she stood there with a small tray bea
ring two coffees.

  I’ll say this for her: she got her act together fast, fixed her smile on with steel rivets, and approached the bed.

  ‘I hope you two slept well,’ she said, like any hostess greeting any guest in the morning.

  ‘Well,’ I mused, ‘I wouldn’t exactly say slept. But it was a wonderful night.’

  As I finished I gave an inane little giggle, and, if I say so myself, I do ‘inane’ very well. I have a large repertoire of giggles, to be produced on demand, but the jewel in the crown is definitely ‘inane’.

  It got to Grace, anyway. The smile slipped, but she forced it back into place.

  ‘I’m so glad you find everything satisfactory,’ she said, straight out of the hostess’s etiquette book.

  ‘It was very satisfactory,’ I breathed.

  Beside me I felt Jack grow tense and turn his head so that his face was hidden against my shoulder. He was fighting not to laugh.

  ‘Thanks for the coffee, Grace,’ he said, looking up at last. ‘Perhaps we’ll have breakfast in here, too.’

  ‘Impossible,’ she declared. ‘You can’t insult your guests like that.’

  ‘I think they’ll understand—’ Jack started to say.

  ‘Nonsense. Of course you must come to breakfast,’ she declared. ‘I shall tell them to expect you in half an hour.’

  She sailed out, closing the door very firmly behind her.

  ‘Wow!’ I said.

  ‘You see my problem?’

  Actually, I was being distracted by another problem just then. He was pressing closer to me, his hip against my leg, and there was no doubting what I could feel.

  ‘Yes.’ He groaned, meeting my eyes. ‘Look, I apologise. I meant to—I mean, I didn’t mean to—Oh hell!’

  ‘I understand,’ I assured him solemnly. ‘But we’re expected for breakfast.’

  ‘Hell again!’

  ‘Well, it’s your fault,’ I complained. ‘Why do you let her order you about? You’re the Big Man—’

  ‘Do you mind not putting it like that?’ he asked faintly.

  ‘You know what I mean. You’re supposed to be master of all you survey. Just tell her that you’ll do things your way. Are you a man or a mouse?’

  ‘Of all the stupid questions,’ he said explosively. ‘I’m a mouse, of course. How else do you think I got into this mess?’

  ‘Well, Grace has spoken, so we’ll have to postpone this—er—interesting discussion until another day.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said delicately. ‘Look, I’m going to have to make a dash for the bathroom.’

  ‘Cold shower?’

  ‘Freezing.’

  ‘Don’t use all the icy water.’

  He grinned and began to slide out of the bed. Then he stopped.

  ‘I’ve lost my pyjama bottoms. So do you mind closing your eyes until I reach the bathroom?’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘And no peeking. Promise me that.’

  ‘Of course I promise,’ I said, shocked to the core by his doubts. ‘What do you take me for? I give you my solemn word—not one tiny peek.’

  But I lied, my friends, I lied. Oh, how gloriously I lied!

  Breakfast was on the sundeck, under a blue awning. I’ll swear the whole boat was there to watch us arrive. Word had gone around, and any of the sailors and staff who could possibly find an excuse to be there were hovering, trying to look indifferent.

  The guests didn’t even try. Their eyes bored into us as we appeared on deck and made our way to the table. I was wearing a pair of elegant dark green trousers and a fawn silk blouse that Jenny had loaned me, and I was really grateful to her.

  Every woman there wore couture, even at this hour of the morning. It was casual, of course, but the kind of casual that costs a bomb, and Jenny’s clothes made me look as though I belonged there. Selina and Grace had noticed that too, and they were hopping mad.

  Jack introduced me to everyone, but I only took in a very few details. I already knew Jenny and Charles. She looked at my outfit, smiled and winked, then glanced at Selina, who was controlling her annoyance using the same methods as Grace earlier. Grace’s mouth was shut like a trap, and she glared.

  So I knew I was doing exactly what Jack wanted.

  He introduced me to a young man called Derek Lamming, who sat with Selina, his arm on the back of her chair, continually casting her nervous glances. I think he was really glad to see me. Then there was Harry Oxton, who looked about sixty, and hovered over Grace as Derek did Selina.

  Among the others the one who stood out was Raymond Keller, nice-looking, early forties, who seemed genuinely friendly with Jack. The rest were just names and faces in a blur.

  Jack’s explanation of my presence was a masterpiece. He had hoped to invite me for the cruise, but I had already been committed to visit various friends in Europe. However, several crises had erupted, forcing me to flee with little more than what I was wearing. Luckily he had been around to scoop me up and bring me on board for the rest of the trip.

  I was awed. I tell a good tale myself, when it’s necessary, but this man had the right touch to make it convincing. It made me wonder just what did go on in the boardroom when he was in charge. Not bullying. I was sure of that. He’d get his own way by talking the hind legs off a donkey.

  Grace asked me some pretty barbed questions, but I was getting comfortably into the part now, and managed to parry them. I have to admit, too, that Jack helped me.

  ‘Don’t worry the poor girl, now, Grace. She’s starving. All she wants is to feed her face, then go out on a huge shopping spree to replace her wardrobe. Hurry up, Della. My credit cards are itching for some exercise. ’

  Those were words I loved to hear.

  He then got a bit high and mighty, urging me away from the table before I was ready. I complained about it when we got into the motor boat.

  ‘Strategy,’ he assured me. ‘I had the boat ready and I got you into it before Grace could think up an excuse to come with us.’

  There was a taxi waiting for us on the quay. More strategy. Before I knew it we were being whisked up the hill to the streets of Monte Carlo, where the luxury shops congregated.

  Ever been let loose in Aladdin’s cave and told to do your worst? I made the most of it because I wanted to buy as much as possible before I woke up. Even if it wasn’t a dream, I knew it would never happen again.

  The first shop was smart casuals, and I was dizzy after the first glance. Jack murmured in my ear, ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Steady?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK. Spend money.’

  So I did. After all, he was my employer, and I had to take his orders. And if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s spend money.

  ‘Just what kind of personality am I supposed to have?’ I asked him at one point. ‘Am I sporty, slinky, a creature of the sun or of the night?’

  ‘All those,’ he said. ‘Shirts and trousers, clinging gowns—short and long—bikinis—whatever. We’ve got to cover this from every angle.’

  Choosing clothes with him was fun, because he found it fun. He watched for ages while I paraded for him, with never a sign of boredom.

  After the casual shop we went to another one for dresses. Then another shop for lingerie, another for shoes, and far, far more of everything than I could possibly need for this trip.

  ‘How long are we going to be on the boat?’ I asked as he signed things.

  ‘As long as I can make it last,’ he said, finishing with a flourish.

  ‘But it can’t be more than a few days, can it?’

  ‘Trying to escape me already?’ he asked, with a grin that made him gorgeous.

  ‘No way! It’s just that you’re buying me more than I’ll need.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, slightly shocked. ‘We can’t be economical. Think of my reputation. When parcels start arriving on The Hawk everyone must be able to see that you have ten times what you actually need. And an
other thing,’ he added, trying to look stern, ‘I expect you to do a lot of sunbathing by the pool. If I see you in the same bikini twice, you’re in dead trouble, lady.’

  I liked this man.

  He told the shops to deliver everything to The Hawk at once.

  ‘All except this,’ he said, indicating the very smart blue dress I was wearing. ‘It’s just right for lunching at the Hotel de Paris.’

  ‘You can’t get into that restaurant without a reservation, ’ I warned him.

  It was a slip, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘I have a reservation,’ he said. ‘I called them before we left the boat.’

  Of course. I should have known that he would have done.

  So we went there and had lunch high up, looking down at Monte Carlo. I could just make out The Hawk and something else that didn’t please me at all.

  ‘The Silverado is still there,’ I said in disgust.

  ‘Forget Vanner. I won’t let him get to you.’

  Who cared about Vanner anyway? Who cared about anything except the grilled turbot they were serving and the perfect wine? And the man sitting opposite me. Who cared about anything but him?

  He was looking at me with one raised eyebrow.

  ‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Why were you working for Vanner? I don’t suppose he paid more than peanuts, and he didn’t treat you well. You must have been desperate.’

  ‘I do freelance work in department stores, demonstrating goods,’ I said, sticking to the truth as far as possible. ‘A job fell through and I took the first thing that was offered—being a waitress on The Silverado. There wasn’t time to check it out. When I realised how much more than a waitress I was supposed to be, we were already out at sea.’

  ‘And that’s the whole story?’

  ‘What else could there be?’

  ‘I suppose you could tell me how come a young woman who knows so much about good living needs to work as a demonstrator or a waitress.’

  ‘You don’t know how much I know,’ I said uneasily.

  ‘I’ve watched you choosing good clothes like an expert. You’re used to money, and you’re familiar with Monte Carlo—otherwise you’d never have known that you need a reservation for this place.’

  So he had noticed my slip after all!