Miranda's Mount

by Phillipa Ashley

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Miranda crawled up the steps to the castle keep. The sun had sunk now below the horizon, the last of its light staining the sky crimson and pink and the castle rooms seemed eerily silent after a day of unrelenting mayhem.

  Her arms were tired, not least because she was carrying a Tudor helmet that had been on display in the visitor centre. Miranda had offered to put it back in its place in the armoury, but the truth was that she’d wanted to escape to the top of the castle and think. Surrounded by clear air and sea and silence, she hoped to make some space and sense of a day that had started with so much sun and hope and ended, for her, in a damp fog of despondency.

  The exhausted staff had headed home to the mainland or to their cottages, leaving the remainder of the clear-up until morning. Lady St Merryn had been driven off to Penzance for dinner with a friend from her bridge club. Ronnie had the night off and had gone to Neem’s studio. As for Jago, Miranda hadn’t seen him since he’d walked out of the cottage and Theo had kept out of her way for the rest of the afternoon.

  She hesitated at the entrance to the armoury, the heavy oak door seeming like the entrance to a dungeon. Even though it had been the best Festival ever, she had never felt more desolate.

  Did Jago know the real reason why Theo hated him so much? Miranda didn’t know whether it would help Jago to understand or if telling him would simply be chucking petrol onto a bonfire. As for revealing that Theo had used her as a pawn to make him jealous, that would be lethal for both of them. She’d decided to say nothing, in the hope that the both men would leave her alone from now on. She certainly wouldn’t see Theo again, and Jago would probably be leaving within a couple of months – if Miranda didn’t quit first.

  With a sigh, she crossed the flagstones and placed the helmet on its stand, repositioning it until it was exactly right.

  ‘Hello.’

  Her heart did a huge flip as she turned to see Jago silhouetted under the stone archway. He’d changed out of pirate mode and into a loose shirt and black jeans. His hair was damp and slicked back, as if he’d recently come out of the shower.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be putting your feet up by now?’ he asked.

  ‘Believe me I will be, but I wanted to put this helmet back first.’

  ‘That could have waited.’

  ‘I couldn’t leave it lying around in the visitor centre.’ She glanced at him. He was fresh and seemed composed. In contrast, her own skin was gritty and hot and she felt strangely vulnerable.

  ‘Are you going out?’ she asked, returning her gaze to the helmet, repositioning it. She could see her face in it, distorted and shiny.

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘You’ve got changed. I thought …’

  ‘Miranda. I think you should know that Theo spoke to me earlier.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. He warned me off you.’

  Miranda turned and laughed as her heart pitter-pattered. Her hope of avoiding confrontation ebbed away.

  ‘Why is that, do you think?’ He crossed the flagstones towards her.

  ‘I have no idea, your lordship.’

  ‘Then I’ll enlighten you, shall I? Theo thinks I’m going to turn into my father and defile you and break your heart, but we both know that’s not possible, don’t we?’

  Miranda swallowed down a lump in her throat, wanting to laugh his comments away but finding it impossible. ‘I don’t know.’

  Jago stopped a few feet from her. ‘I think you know that I’m not going to break your heart because neither of us will let the other within a hundred miles and rightly so. As for defiling you, I believe I’m too late. I believe there was an archaeology student on a dig who beat me to it?’

  Her pulse raced. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘At the Pilchard the evening we took our boat trip. You were very chatty.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’

  ‘There was an incident with a vet too and his Labrador, I understand.’

  She smiled but ran her hands through her hair. Her scalp tingled, along with every other part of her. ‘What did you say to Theo?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘I told him he was living in fantasy land and that he has nothing to fear from me.’

  ‘Did he believe you?’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘And did you mean what you said to him?’ Her heart thumped now, her mouth dry. How did she dare speak like this? So recklessly? She felt as if the barriers between her and Jago were crumbling away.

  ‘Unfortunately, for both of us, I didn’t mean any of it. Because he does have something to fear from me. I want to take you to bed, and I know that’s what you want too and I can think of a dozen reasons why we shouldn’t, and I’m going to ignore every single one of them.’

  ‘You know we can’t,’ she said but knew she was just going through the motions.

  ‘We can, we’re just too scared to, but I can’t take this dancing around each other any more and I don’t want to. I told Theo to mind his own business, by the way.’

  A thought struck her, a horrible thought she didn’t want to be true. ‘Are you playing with me too, Jago, to get at Theo?’

  He gasped. ‘Playing with you? You think the way I feel is playing … Jesus.’

  ‘I don’t know how you feel. You keep changing your mind; I don’t know what to think. This could all just be some kind of game!’

  His eyes were angry but then he let go of her arm and stepped away. ‘OK. If you think it’s a game, let’s make it one. A make-believe game where we forget about tomorrow and just pretend. You like doing that, don’t you? That’s what you were doing up here, and what you often do. I’ve seen you, daydreaming up here, imagining.’ He touched her arm and the skin prickled with delicious sensation.

  ‘This is the real world and there will be a tomorrow,’ she said, knowing already that she didn’t care about anything beyond this moment, or outside of this room. She’d already crossed the threshold.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ He laughed gently. ‘I think I know that there’s no use worrying about tomorrow. Screw tomorrow.’

  ‘But there will be consequences. If we do this.’

  ‘There may be, will be, but are you that afraid of them? How do you know what they will be?’

  She knew. She knew what would happen if she let Jago in so deeply, so intimately, but the balance between caution and temptation had shifted. It was too late, she’d tipped over the edge.

  ‘Let’s have one night before it’s too late.’ He was inches away and gently ran a finger down her cheek. ‘One night, one night of fantasy. Do you dare?’

  She picked up the signal, a tremor in his voice that made her want to abandon sense and caution and let recklessness take over. She lifted her chin upwards and looked at him defiantly, already caught up in a game that was dangerous for both of them. ‘What if I refuse?’

  ‘Then it will be the worse for you, wench.’

  ‘And nothing will change afterwards? Tomorrow will be business as usual?’

  ‘Business as usual. Nothing will change.’

  ‘Then I’ve made my mind up. I want this.’

  She closed her eyes, anticipating his lips on hers and his fingers tangling in her hair and his tongue flicking inside her mouth. Instead she heard his footsteps ring out on the stone flags and opened her eyes to find he’d crossed to the other side of the armoury.

  ‘This? What exactly do you think “this” is going to be, Miranda? Have you any idea?’ He reached behind him and picked up the cutlass.

  Miranda laughed.

  ‘You find this funny?’

  ‘Yes. Captain Jack Sparrow wielding his sword. Is it meant to be some kind of metaphor?’

  Jago glanced down at the blade glinting in the light. ‘It looks like a lethal weapon to me. And I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.’

  He stepped forwards, holding the cutlass by his side. A million nerves zinged her from head to toe as he stopped, barely two feet away from her, and ra
ised the sword to chest height, the lethal tip pointing right at her breasts.

  ‘This must be breaking every health and safety law in the book,’ she said lightly.

  ‘Screw the health and safety laws,’ he said softly, ‘and take off your clothes.’

  Her lips parted in shock. Her stomach clenched. Her inner muscles tightened. ‘What?’

  ‘I said, strip.’

  ‘Right here? I can’t do that.’

  His mouth set in a hard line. ‘Can’t or won’t?’

  ‘Even if I wanted to do this, someone might come along.’

  ‘No, they won’t. There’s no one up here but the two of us.’

  A frisson of desire and fear rippled through her body. The floor was solid under her feet, but she was sure it shifted a little. Maybe the whole island or her world had just tilted, a millimetre, on its axis. She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t want to.’

  As his eyes raked over her, her skin felt like he’d rubbed a hot chilli over it. Taking a step nearer to her, he raised the cutlass and pointed it at her breasts. It was just a foot away from her. Her nipples jutted against the cotton of her flimsy blouse.

  He laughed unpleasantly. ‘I can see how much you don’t want to. Get on with it.’

  She thought about making a joke, or simply leaving the armoury. It was game, a sexy, silly game that she could end right now. Instead, she found herself toeing off her ballet pumps, one by one. The flagstones were cold and hard under the soles of her feet. She felt the tiny grains of grit and sand left there by the visitors that day.

  He held the sword steady. ‘Now, take off your blouse.’

  ‘Really, this –’

  ‘Just do as I say.’

  She reached for the hem of the blouse, gripped the cotton and pulled it upwards towards her neck. As she tugged it over her head, she couldn’t see Jago for a few seconds. She was blinded and helpless and all he had to do was step forwards with the sword and … The blouse came over her head. Miranda clutched it to her breasts, hiding them from him.

  He smiled briefly then the cutlass tip wavered in the direction of her skirt. ‘Now that.’

  To take off her skirt, she had no choice but to let go of the blouse and reveal herself to him. Part of her ached to let him to see how turned on she was, and part wanted to keep her desire secret. It was just a game but … she crushed the cotton fabric tighter to her chest.

  ‘I’m waiting. Surely, you can’t have gone shy?’

  His voice was raw, his eyes glittering with desire. It was just fantasy, she told herself, they were playing roles, there was no actual danger or threat, but her pulse raced and her limbs were heavy, as if it was very real. She forced herself to lower the blouse from her breasts, knowing she would expose taut nipples and flushed skin. She hardly dared raise her eyes to his, afraid of what she might see in his face. She knew he was aroused, she could see him, hear his quickened breathing, and smell him.

  She dropped the blouse on the flagstones and straightened up, her arms hanging loosely at her side.

  ‘Carry on.’

  His coldness threw her. Did he feel so little at having her half-naked in front of him. Was it a game for him? Or was he genuinely enjoying humiliating her? Except she didn’t feel humiliated. She felt powerful and free. She reached for the hook and eye at the side. Her fingers fumbled with the fastening but it loosened. She pulled down the zip and the skirt dropped to the flagstones.

  She stood in her panties, the skirt pooled around her feet, soft and warm in contrast to the floor and to Jago. He circled her slowly, never taking his eyes from her. His knuckles were white around the hilt of the cutlass. It was a game, just a game, but her knees felt like water and it took every ounce of self-control not to let him see she was shaking like a leaf, inside and out. She was already slick inside.

  He stopped and raised the sword. ‘Now those.’ He pointed to her knickers with the tip of the blade.

  ‘You have to be joking,’ she said, trying to laugh.

  ‘I’m not joking.’

  ‘Jago, this is going too far.’

  ‘No one ever said there would be a limit to this. Now, take off your knickers.’

  He was blowing her mind. She lifted her chin defiantly. ‘No. I will not.’

  Silence hung in the air between them. Jago stepped forwards, raised the cutlass until the tip of the blade was inches from her stomach. She pressed her legs together, her heart rate rocketing, her stomach turning over and over.

  ‘One last chance. Take them off now or I’ll do it for you.’

  She shook her head. ‘Go to hell.’

  The shining tip of the blade glistened in the moonlight, like a white-hot brand.

  ‘I’ll count to three,’ he said. ‘One.’

  She closed her eyes as the cutlass tip brushed the damp silk of her panties. What if his hand slipped? What if she fell? Her body shook. She might pass out with lust and tension at any moment. The blade was so close.

  ‘Two.’

  She clenched her fists and tightened every muscle in her body as she waited for the count.

  His voice was a silky whisper. ‘Three.’

  She opened her eyes. He moved to her side and, swiftly, pulled the ribbon of her panties away from her thigh. In a flash, he cut it with the tip of the blade and pulled her knickers off.

  Her hands flew to cover her nakedness, in a pointless attempt to shield herself. Pointless because he could see every inch of her, and because being forced to strip by him had been her deepest, darkest fantasy. And yet, she couldn’t stop shaking. She waited to see the smile of triumph or pleasure at seeing her stripped bare but Jago simply surveyed her with satisfaction.

  ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘I haven’t finished with you.’

  Leaving her naked on the flagstones, he laid the cutlass on the trestle table and arranged her shredded panties across the blade with care, almost like a trophy. Miranda gasped. Then he turned and looked at her again. His gaze was no longer cold, but hot and greedy and tender. ‘You’re beautiful.’ A smile curved his lips as stepped forwards. ‘Very chilly but very lovely and I think your nipples are about to go pop. If I don’t explode first.’

  In seconds, he’d taken her in his arms, his linen shirt rough and warm against her bare skin. ‘It’s freezing in this armoury,’ she said, still unable to believe she was naked in such a public place.

  He rubbed her arms and back and bottom vigorously, trying to bring the circulation back. Then he touched her gently in a place that was warm and she let out a tiny gasp of shock and pleasure. ‘Come on, wench. I think it’s time we went back to my room.’

  He gathered up her clothes and they dashed up the stone staircase to his room. They almost fell through the door to the tower room, and Jago locked it behind them. He pushed her against the oak door; the ridged planks were rough against her back and bottom. Then his mouth came down on hers and she knew there was no going back.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Are you OK?’ Jago asked as he led her to his bed. ‘Not getting cold feet?’ He smiled and glanced at her bare toes.

  They were icy, in fact, but that’s not why she was hesitating.

  Miranda realised that in all her time at the Mount, she had never been in Jago’s bedroom. She’d been in most of the private family rooms but not this one. There had been no reason, Jago had been persona non grata and, as far as she knew, only the cleaners had even been in here and Lady St Merryn instructed them personally. Her first thought was that it was at once grand in scale and yet very simple.

  Moonlight filtered through the leaded panes of the window, casting lacy shadows on the floor and across the bed. It wasn’t one of the heavy oak four posters that graced the public bedrooms but a large white-painted iron-framed double, draped in a patchwork coverlet that had obviously been handmade by some long-dead Victorian lady of the house. Not a man’s room, nor even a boy’s room, almost an innocent room.

  ‘Yes. It’s just … this is my first time.’

/>   He deposited her clothes on a Lloyd Loom chair and turned. ‘Now, I know that’s not true.’

  ‘In here, in your bedroom, I meant.’

  ‘Good, because, despite appearances, I don’t actually want to go around deflowering virgins, give me a wicked slut any day.’

  Gently, he lowered Miranda back onto the coverlet. He parted her legs and licked her intimately from top to bottom, in smooth firm strokes, making her whimper. She gripped the metal bed rail and tried not to cry out louder, hoping that no one could hear her. Jago paused to strip his shirt over his head. She wanted to die at the sight of him, at the dark hair that arrowed down to disappear into the waistband of his jeans. He flicked open the buttons, sat on the edge of the bed to pull his jeans over his feet. Then he climbed back onto the bed beside her, naked, his cock jutting. ‘I’ll get a condom. We have to be safe.’

  ‘Safe?’ She held his gaze and there was no need to say more. Stripping in the armoury, making love with Jago, falling for him, and betraying her friends …

  He smiled and kissed her forehead, reading her thoughts. ‘I know, it’s ridiculous, considering what we’re doing, but we ought to do one responsible thing amongst all the mad ones.’

  He opened the wardrobe and reached up to the top shelf. The moonlight threw flickering shadows across his bare backside. Miranda closed her eyes. Would he be gone when she opened them, just like the man in her fantasies? Was this all a dream conjured up by her desire for him?

  ‘Do you want to help with this part or can’t you bear to look?’

  She opened her eyes to find him kneeling on the bed next to her, holding out a silver packet.

  ‘I hope you like mint. I only have these Minty Tinglers.’