CAPTURE
Flora Dain
THE WOLFE: BOOK 3

Copyright

Mischief

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.mischiefbooks.com

Copyright © Flora Dain 2014

Cover design: Head Design 2017, cover images: Shutterstock.com

Flora Dain asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780007579600

Version: 2017-08-21

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

More from Mischief

About Mischief

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

Nowadays all it takes is a look.

It’s New Year’s Eve. We’re having a Ball – literally. But a man keeps looking at me from across the room. Nothing too obvious, just catching my eye every now and then. But it’s very disturbing.

Correction – he’s very disturbing.

I should be pleased. People should look. It’s a gala occasion. I’m wearing a gown that cost more than I earn and jewels way out of my league. We’re a blitz of glitz here – New York’s Four Seasons at its finest.

Darnley never does things by halves.

The guests are the cream of the East Coast courtesy of his family, a shot of early-settler blueblood from mine, plus a sprinkling of West Coast celebs from his brother Eldon’s on-off movie contacts.

But that man’s gaze is deep and dark. Very unsettling.

I’m trying to be civilised. I’m a professional person. I should have more self-control, not come apart at one look.

He’s noticed. He’s coming over.

His gaze sweeps over me as he prowls through the guests. The crowd melts before him. Somewhere deep inside, so do I.

I should call security.

Wait. He is security.

‘Ready?’ His voice is like hot velvet.

A prickle of fear raises the down on my arms.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ The heat in his eyes makes me shiver. So does the touch of his hand on mine as he guides me up to the stage.

All the clocks, artfully placed among the banks of flowers and balloons to celebrate tonight, start to chime midnight.

It’s the start of a New Year and for us a new era.

At a drumroll from the orchestra, silence falls around us and he starts to speak. His voice flows around me like dark honey and echoes through the vast room. He sounds casual, urbane. He could have been an actor.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve an announcement to make. I’m sure you’ve all guessed it, but here goes. Ella and I are getting engaged. Happy New Year, everybody.’

Balloons tumble down, cheers rise up and he captures my mouth. Our kiss is all too brief and all too hot. A heady foretaste of what’s to come.

* * *

‘You look terrific in that.’ His low murmur thrills through me as we hurry out to the main exit where his car’s waiting to ferry us to his jet. His hand grips mine, his burning look turning my gown into liquid sex.

‘You too.’ I grin, weak with relief – and that kiss.

But I’m still angry.

Behind us, back in the ballroom, New Year’s now in full swing, but we’re cutting things short. We’ve got other plans.

Since we got here tonight our attention has been all on family and friends. His parents, Aaron and Lydia, are here along with my friend Billy and Eldon, Darnley’s brother – and various relatives and business people.

Even my parents are down from Maine. This is a real treat for them. We spent Christmas with them when Darnley proposed, so they know all about it. I was glad to see him blend into our quiet lifestyle and soak up some of my Mom’s wholesome New England cooking – she goes to town in the kitchen on the rare occasions they have guests.

Even Darnley seemed to relax. Old-fashioned home comforts have been sadly lacking from his life.

‘Hey. We’re here.’

He seizes my hand and I jerk out of my reverie. As we step out of the car an icy wind whistles through the fenced-off section of JFK where his jet awaits, crouched on the runway like a gleaming insect.

His driver drops a thick wrap over my shoulders as I pick my way across the icy tarmac. In the distance all around us light sparkles off the banks of soiled snow cleared from the runway.

I shiver in the sharp cold as Darnley hurries me up the gangway. We shake hands with the crew just inside the low, curved doorway. As we settle into our seats we’re already taxiing in a slow curve, setting off towards the long row of double lights waiting to guide us out into the sky and send us west.

We’re off to California.

* * *

The Cessna’s on loan from Aaron. It will refuel at some point. I wasn’t paying attention. I was admiring the extras laid on for our in-flight entertainment – champagne on ice, low, dreamy lighting, satin drapes, a bed – and planning the next stage of my campaign.

We’re in the middle of a raging fight. The Ball was only a brief lull in our battle. Now the gloves are back on.

When the crew finally retire to the fore and aft of the plane to continue their tasks, he closes a small padded door and ushers me into the cushioned privacy of what will be our sleeping quarters for the next few hours.

Not that sleep’s too high on our list.

‘So?’ I glare at him across the soft, satin-lined cabin. ‘When are you seeing one? You promised, Darnley. You promised you’d see one as soon as we were engaged. It’s a –’ Crossly, I search for the right word here.

‘Condition?’ His steady, amused gaze is less than helpful. So is this pointed reference to the bracelets he gave me. Their conditions are mega-significant and sometimes deliberately – and deliciously – painful.

‘It’s a deal-breaker.’ There, I’ve said it. And if he wants to make something of it, let him.

Instantly he does. I see his eyes narrow.

‘Really? Interesting. So when you wear my bracelets I can set conditions, but when you wear my ring you can “break the deal”? How does that work? Hey!’

He pins my wrists behind my back with one hand, his fingers closing round them in a grip just this side of uncomfortable. ‘Here’s the deal. When I see a shrink it’ll be one of my choosing and in my own time. That suit?’

He doesn’t wait for an answer as his mouth finds mine. I should fight this … but now his arms are winding around me, feeling my curves, fondling my valleys, his sure touch sending ripples through me, little pulses that any minute will spark into arousal.

The ground I was so sure of only seconds ago is slipping away.

When he pulls back he’s smiling down at me. When he speaks his voice purrs through me. ‘And guess what? My first choice is right here.’

He finds my mouth again, and now he’s quit my wrists and he’s exploring me, intimate and urgent, warning me that fighting’s off the table but something else is very much on it. What’s more, his sardonic look warns me we’ve still got issues. Like not wanting a Ball in the first place.

‘So how did it go? Not so bad, was it?’

I swallow. I’d wanted something quieter, more private. It had led to a battle of wills as he insisted on a blaze of publicity.

‘I want everybody to know. And I want everybody impressed. You should too.’

‘But I don’t want to be in the public eye all the time. Can’t we just text them? Send them a postcard?’

His fury had been startling – then, as he followed it up with some energetic and very specific attention, glorious.

‘No way. Get used to it. That’s how we do things.’ He’d raised his head from between my thighs, his mouth still moist with my fulsome, unbidden response to his powerful argument. ‘Besides, it’s our special night. I’m not having you look back years from now and accuse me of not doing things properly.’

Years? With him I never dare look beyond the next two hours.

I smiled down at him and touched his face, his scowl warning me that my small-town New England ways would have to take a back seat for once – maybe for ever. And that just then he had more important things to do, like what he was doing just then.

I swallowed, my will fading under his onslaught, my stomach muscles still rippling from the effect of his hungry tongue.

Do it later, I thought. Fight later. I need this. I tried one last time. ‘You must. You promised. You said you’d see a professional, Darnley. Even now you’re starting to remember, there may still be issues –’

I broke off with a gasp, derailed by an extra vicious jab from his hungry tongue.

‘Enough. I’ll find one in my own time, Ella. And in my own way.’ He was leaning on his elbows glaring down at me.

For a split second I froze. The steel in his tone is always a shock, even when we’re doing this.

‘OK. I get it.’ I stroked his tense forehead and ruffled his springy mass of fresh-washed chestnut hair, thrilling to the glimmer of little blond highlights that sparkled at the ends. ‘And don’t stop,’ I gasped, giving in as gracefully as I could with my legs splayed wide and my arousal pounding. ‘I was enjoying that.’

Now, as we face each other in the cushioned luxury of the private jet, his dark look demands an answer.

‘You’re right. It was a fantastic evening,’ I say quickly. Something burns deep down, something we’ve been putting off all evening.

Does he sense this? I lower my gaze at the sudden glint in his eyes. I feel my breath quicken. It’s an effort to keep my voice even, to talk normally. ‘And – it was great seeing everybody again.’

‘Meaning what? I’m not enough for you?’ His eyes gleam as he says this. He may be playing – maybe not.

I swallow. ‘That’s not what I meant. You –’

He smiles slowly. ‘I’m what? Twisting your words? You tear me apart when you look at me like that. How about a small thank-you?’

I was ready for this so I make a start on the rather big thank-you I’d already planned. With a slow, swaying motion I arch my back as I slip the sleeves of my gown a little way down my arms and then reach round to lower my zip. He watches, his eyes growing darker, as I slide the satin down further, move round slowly to bend low and unzip the rest, then turn and face him as I slide the satin down all the way.

As he sees me emerge from my clinging, costly gown his eyes widen briefly. ‘Wow.’

Tonight I’m wearing his diamonds for lingerie. I’d trusted to roughly a million dollars’ worth of bling to provide the support structure that evening gowns this pricey require. Rather to my surprise they’ve done pretty well. Now all I have to deal with is the liquid heat in his gaze as he sees his Christmas present turn into a perfect New Year offering.

‘And just so you know,’ I say gently, as I sink to my knees and free him from the taut imprisonment of his trousers, where I sense his arousal has been steadily building at much the same rate as mine, ‘I’m very, very grateful.’

To prove it I touch my lips reverently to his hot, silky shaft, which is already hungry for my mouth, and for a few delicious moments our battle is on hold.

All around us the low, throbbing hum of the engines closes us into our own private world as I explore him with my tongue, tease him when he tenses, lick gently when he groans. Soon I can see – from the tension building in the rippling muscles of his thighs – that he’s close.

‘Whoa. Let’s make this last.’ With a groan he eases away from me, smiling at me as I lean over to plant a brief kiss on the tip just as he pulls clear.

He raises me gently until I’m upright and finds my mouth once more, his hands exploring me now, reaching into every part of me, his touch urgent, his fingers squeezing, pressing, making me limp with desire as he finds all the places I want him to find and then finds them again and lingers. And slowly he presses me back against the mattress lying just behind us, and as my knees buckle under his weight and my will melts away in the white heat of his look I give myself up to him with the eager abandon of an alley cat.

When he finally plunges inside, his shaft huge and hot and wet from my kisses, my belly muscles haul him in like we’ve been apart for weeks. Every thrust is a surge of triumph, every retreat a mournful parting as he leans over me, his eyes burning into mine with the dark passion that’s been pent up all evening.

And as I climb ever closer to orgasm under his steady gaze I know now why his look is so disturbing, even across a crowded room – it reminds me of this. His dark, intent gaze is the living promise that he gives me, even in public places where words and touch are forbidden, that he loves me and needs me, all the time.

Soon, far sooner than I want, I spasm around him, tipping over the edge at the onslaught of his steady, pounding rhythm. Seconds after that he comes too, his deafening bellow his only response to the soft undertow of my rippling muscles.

‘Christ, Ella.’

* * *

Our journey takes a while. We refuel in Denver, make love and sleep and make love again. In between we eat, drink coffee, play cards, talk to friends and family while we take turns to tease and fondle, each daring the other to break up the conversation with a shout from him or a giggle from me.

When we finally arrive in a sun-kissed land under a wide blue sky, a million miles away from the deep winter of New York, we’ve a long drive up Highway 101 to reach our destination.

I’m blurry from sex and bewildered by the time zones when he finally tells his driver to slow down to show me the view.

‘There it is. See it, down there along the cliff?’

I grin up at him, pleased he’s so happy, eager and carefree as a boy. Then I blink. ‘But it’s massive. I thought it would be some kind of shack on stilts.’

‘I don’t do shacks.’ He’s laughing now, nuzzling deep into my shoulder, sending sparks of excitement all over me as I gaze out over the sleek glass palace that millionaires like him call a beach house.

But as we get closer I frown. On the longest wall, looking out over the bay, I see something odd.

‘That’s weird. Some kind of artwork?’

Weird though it looks to me it’s entirely possible that’s exactly what it is. His world’s a universe away from mine. I’d sooner not seem naïve.

But at my side I feel him stiffen. He pulls away from me and picks up his phone and now I sense that, art or not, something’s very wrong here.

He mutters into his cell, his tone low.

This is serious. Alarmed, I tune in to what he’s saying. He’s using the part code, part command string he uses for emergencies.

As we pull up outside the house, we gaze at it; him in silence, me in growing horror. All along the gleaming, white-glazed wall someone has scrawled a vast message in vivid scarlet paint. It’s been done in a hurry with a very thick brush. Trails of paint trickle down, still wet. Crude splashes of crimson spatter the immaculate driveway and pool in the cracks between the slabs.

This was done only minutes before we arrived.

‘Wel cum home fokes!’

From a distance it looks like a joke punctuation mark. But up close we see it’s a crude six-foot-high drawing of something else – something very much male. Below it thin rills of wet paint drip onto the driveway.

‘Whoa. Looks like somebody’s pleased to see us.’ I speak without thinking. Luckily – and for once in my life – it’s the right thing to say. Darnley’s hand tightens briefly on mine and then he grins. One of the men in the ashen-faced group hovering nearby actually laughs.

I glance at Darnley, heart in mouth. Will he freak? And now I get another shock – he’s looking at me, his expression troubled. ‘Ella?’

I step closer. Around us there’s a bustle as men rush forward to tackle the paint. Between us the intensity of his expression somehow creates a private, quiet place. He takes my hand in his and gazes deep into my eyes. ‘I meant to warn you before …’

‘Warn me?’

The touch of his fingers on mine is sending tingles up my arm. I press closer. All at once something flickers between us, hot and explicit. I see him swallow. ‘Talk later.’

He turns away and addresses his men, his voice louder now. The hard edge in his tone slices into the activity all around us. ‘I want to know who did this. Find out. And fast.’ For a second the air quivers and then his voice lowers. ‘And get this cleaned up.’

Once more they spring into action, but now I sense a shift in the air. His sudden command has changed things. What just happened?

CHAPTER TWO

‘Some homecoming.’ Darnley grins as he leads me indoors. ‘Kind of unplanned. Let’s hope we can make things up for you.’

I hardly hear him as I gaze round open-mouthed at what he calls a beach house. My first impression is of light and space. All the walls seem made of glass, all the views vast. The polished stone floor gleams softly in the sunlight flooding round us. It has ancient sea creatures embedded in it, polished to a perfect gleam. Beyond the windows, the beach curves round the headland like a giant yellow ribbon, sloping gently down from the house to meet the expanse of cool, blue-green ocean.

No artworks here, crude or real – just sleek walls and low furniture. But as the light changes I see the vast white wall opposite the entrance is decorated with some kind of giant mural sprayed in gold. It glitters like sunlight on water. But, as the light moves, portions of it vanish, so it seems to shift, like the ocean.

‘Like it?’

Darnley’s standing behind me, so close I start to tingle. I feel the hairs rise on my arms and I shiver. Excitement? Arousal? His touch on my arm, his warm breath on my neck, work on me like incense.

‘It’s stunning. It’s an original work?’

I feel his lips brush the side of my neck.

‘Got a guy in San Francisco to do it.’ He turns me slowly round to face him. ‘It’s got a kind of – hidden secret.’

For a long moment my gold-dazzled retinas see him only in shadow, a dark shape against the light as he slowly descends on my mouth.

When he pulls away he looks almost dazed. ‘Hey. Let’s talk art some other time.’ Once more he seizes my hand, then drags me behind him, making for the stairs.

He hurries me past a selection of pale, elegant rooms – a kitchen, a vast sitting area, even a TV room with a giant screen and a dozen rows of seats. Everywhere has vast windows and spectacular views.

In the bedroom the windows are draped in fine gauze, blowing gently in the soft breeze from the sea. The bed is low and pale, with a lower and paler bench running along the head and a sturdy-looking rail along the foot. Sturdy enough to take clips, rope or – cuffs?

Knowing his tastes I notice these things. A tiny part of me notes primly that once I’d have assumed merely dressing rooms, a hidden wardrobe. But now the mirrored wall opposite the bed hints at intricate, thrilling possibilities. My belly clenches at the thought of what we could do in here. Already he’s pulling me slowly towards him, his look dark and intense.

‘I’ve waited a long time to see you in here. Strip. I want to watch.’ He throws himself back onto the bed and leans on one elbow.

‘Do all your girlfriends do this?’ I’m only kidding, but as I say it I feel a twinge of fear. Suppose he says yes? Do I really want to know how many there are? How beautiful, how – exotic?

‘You expect me to answer that?’

I fight down a sudden wave of shyness. Is it the thought of showing my all in this vast glass palace, or simply being compared to – others?

So what? I’m here now. With a tiny thrill of possession I firmly ignore the vast mirror behind me and keep my eyes locked on his. My slim sweater, fine for travel in the chilly North East but a little warm this far south, peels away first. I tease him with it for a little as I start to wriggle out of my travel jeans and bend over a few times to show him the goods. As I reach back to unfasten my bra, getting into this now, his patience snaps and he pulls me gently towards him.

‘Enough. I’ll do the rest. Keep your hands over your head.’ He uncurls and rises to his feet in a single lithe movement that dries my mouth and shrivels my belly. As he towers over me, his dark gaze locked on mine, he swiftly removes my jeans, my panties, my bra and what’s left of my self-control. I can almost feel his heat.

‘Bend over.’

I feel a spike of alarm. ‘Now I thought we’d moved on from all that?’ The sudden gleam in his eyes hints he’s some way to go yet. The sudden flash of arousal deep down in me hints I have too.

We’re in Wolfe territory now. Rash words can make for sore backsides in the flash of his hand.

‘You did? Well, guess what – you were wrong. Head up, tits out. Put your hands in the small of your back and lean on the bed to balance.’

What follows is so hot and so sharp I’ve no idea how I manage not to yell. After the first few blistering seconds I drag in air and prepare to bellow but his hand’s punishing rhythm gets to me, so I hold off. Instead I breathe deep, willing him on, letting his ferocious energy fuel my fire. In minutes I’m burning up, inside as well as out, jolting with arousal at every blow, as his steady drumbeat jolts straight to my groin.

At last he stops, his breathing ragged from the sudden exercise. He shakes his hand with a rueful grin. ‘Wow. You’re coming on. I expected half the state in here from all the yelling.’

I swivel my head and eye him from under my lashes. ‘Is that what you wanted? State troopers joining in?’

His eyes glimmer. ‘Hey. Don’t give me ideas. The mood I’m in I just might. Now come up here.’

As he speaks he sheds his clothes, sending his boxers spinning across the room with a flick of his foot. He sprawls out along the bed and hauls me up on top of him, finding my mouth with a sigh of welcome that tells me how much he’s wanted this and, thrillingly, how much he’s wanted me here.

‘Ride me. Tease me first. Please, Ella.’

His soft request is a surprise – usually by this stage we’re long past the need for permissions. Eagerly I curve over his erection and lean forward to taste. It twitches in my mouth, glossy and hot, as impatient as me.

He lets out a low groan. ‘Whoa, easy. You’re too good. Now get yourself up here.’

I climb along him and lower myself onto his hot shaft with a low growl of pleasure. I put my hands on his shoulders and gaze into his slanted, intelligent face as he surges up inside me, his hot, hard length filling my belly, its shape losing focus as he thrusts, blending into the soft clutches of my lower muscles. Now all I feel is his heat and his drive.

The fire in his eyes spurs me on and I speed up to ride him. He jolts in response, his power and his strength overwhelming mine, his rhythm taking me over. In minutes he’s rolled over on top of me, taking charge with easy male grace.

‘Having fun?’ I mean to tease but instantly his expression clouds.

‘Ella? You’re right. What was I thinking? Ladies first. Fiancées especially.’

And to my joy he slows, grinding against me with the prowess of an athlete, his honed body slicing into me with his superior power and his urgent, pounding drumbeat until I’m scorching and ready, poised at the brink of massive, blessed release.

In seconds I come with kind of long, low moan, the feral call of my inner female. His answering grunt seals our pleasure and soon we’re lying full length, bundled together in love, as the sinking Californian sun paints us gold where its reflection shines from the mirrors opposite.

* * *

Later he shows me round the house. It’s even larger inside than it looks from a distance, so much of it hugs the low-slung cliff. From outside I see it’s built at an angle to capture the best views of the sea. It stretches down a couple of further floors for staff, garaging and deliveries.

We walk along the beach a little way and explore part of the cove. As we crunch along the shingle he skips stones across the water but his dark glances make me burn deep down as his answers to my eager questions – how did you find this place? – who else comes here? – get shorter and shorter. Finally I tail off as he pulls me close.

‘Hey, let’s eat. I’m starving. You can explore tomorrow. And I’ll show you your Christmas present.’

Our meal is light and fun, a platter of exotic seafood arranged by his Mexican cook – icy caviar, light and salt; small rosy shrimps, soft and sweet; oysters like liquid heaven. Darnley pours champagne and we sip from tall flutes and nibble rough chunks of fresh home-made bread, dipped in small bowls of pale melted butter and hot, tasty sauces. I make merry in his arms as the night grows late and he plays old blues records.

When we finally get to bed the quilt has been smoothed again, fresh flowers left in a bowl, the lighting low. But it’s a long time before we sleep.

* * *

I wake with a start in a shaft of moonlight. I can feel his arms folded around me. But all around us is a wall of noise, like wild, roaring thunder. ‘What the …?’

I stare wildly around as Darnley, heavy at my back, starts to stir.

In a panic I tear myself out of his arms and rush to the window.

A motorcycle is revving up outside. The noise is deafening.

I push aside the drape so I can see clearly.

Barely feet away, moonlight silvers the hard black outline of a huge bike, its rider covered from head to foot in black leather. When he turns his head he’s wearing goggles, his face unrecognisable. He looks like some giant, evil insect. And he’s grinning.

My stomach lurches and now I get a nauseous waft of exhaust fumes.

All at once light spills out from other parts of the house. I can hear shouts. The house is awake. But as footsteps start to ring out on the driveway the bike roars off.

I take a deep breath and lower the drape. ‘That was a shock. Do you often get stray tourists this close to the house at night?’ As I turn back to the bed my shaky smile dies on my face. I’m talking to an empty room.

Darnley’s in the en-suite, throwing up.

I can hear the engine noise fading into the distance. But in here the damage is done. The room is still acrid with exhaust fumes. And for some reason Darnley’s being sick.

‘You OK?’ I peer at him in alarm.

He’s leaning against the door frame. He’s shaking.

‘What the heck was all that noise? It sounded like …’

He sways. And all at once I understand. He’s thinking of Kraik, the tormentor from his childhood, cuffing him to a steering wheel and revving up the engine …

‘It’s OK,’ I murmur gently. I take his arm and am shocked to find him cold. ‘Come back to bed.’

When he’s stretched out beside me I twitch the quilt over him and dart into the en-suite to fetch him some water. By the time I’m back he’s asleep again but he feels like ice. I get in beside him, careful not to disturb him more than I must, and wind my arms and legs around him. As I settle my head on his chest he murmurs sleepily into my hair. ‘Something wake us up? That noise …’

I tighten my grip. ‘It was nothing. Bad dream.’

His soft, regular breathing tells me he’s already drifting off. Maybe tomorrow he won’t even remember.

But I lie awake for a long time, my arms clamped round him, my mind racing. Two scary incidents in one day? Is that normal out here? And as I finally drift into sleep another, even scarier thought hovers at the edges of my brain like an evil fairy.

Kraik again? I thought we’d moved on from that too.

* * *

‘Hey. Eat up your cereal like a good girl. I can’t wait to show you your present.’ Darnley’s already put away a plateful of ham and eggs and several slices of toast in double-quick time. I’m still toying with a bowl of sweetened cereal and sipping gulps of glorious, freshly squeezed orange juice from some local farm.

To my delight he seems to have forgotten about last night.

I make a note to ask the staff if bikers often stray from the highway or if that was just a one-off.

I learn my present is nearby and he waits impatiently while I haul a thin sweater over my tight jeans. It’s far warmer here than back home. We’re twenty degrees or so higher than my home state of Maine, currently in the throes of a massive blizzard. But it is still January. They have winter, even here. The sunshine has a spring-like crispness to it that warns me the wind’s chillier than it looks.

‘Have you guessed what it is yet?’ His grin is infectious as he grips my hand to haul me down the slope to the beach, and now I’m genuinely mystified.

I laugh, excited now, thrilled he’s so carefree. ‘Obviously not,’ I say gaily. ‘How should I know? Jewelled handcuffs on a rock? A surfboard?’ I make a solemn vow to be enchanted with it whatever it is, after last night’s scary flash from the past. ‘Give me a hint. It’s made of metal? It catches fish? Will I regret this?’

But as we pass a rocky outcrop part-way down the hill I stop dead. Pulled up on the shingle, and tied with a giant scarlet bow, is a boat.

Not just any boat. It’s smallish, stylish, racy and gleaming white. At one end there’s a small two-stroke motor. And part of the hull has a glass panel. I can use it to see underwater.

‘You like?’ He almost laughs as he drags me the last few feet towards it. As I reach it I touch a reverent finger to its elegant prow. It feels silky smooth and gleams in the sunshine. Inside there’s a narrow bench seat all around. Damp shingle and tiny shells press into the glass panels near the floor.

‘Toughened glass. I wanted to get you a flat-bottomed boat like they use in Hawaii but the seas round here are too rough. So a guy along the coast built me this.’

I swallow. ‘It’s lovely. How can I ever thank you?’

He kisses me long and deep. ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way. Fancy a trip?’

‘Now?’ I don’t even wait for an answer. I start to drag it down to the water.

It’s so light I can pull it by myself, but as it’s my first time Darnley takes one side and we carry it easily between us. When it’s bobbing in the shallows he loops the rope over a mooring post wedged into the rock at the edge of the beach and holds out his hand. ‘Madame, your gondola.’

I lose my footing instantly as I clamber in and he scoops me up from the floor just as a splash from an incoming wavelet sprays water all over us.

‘You’d better wear the wetsuit too if your sea legs are as rusty as that.’ He gestures at some sealed packages stowed in the prow. When I explore I find a wet suit, goggles and even a snorkel.

He grins fondly as I exclaim over them and then shows me how to start the thing before leaping out and pushing the craft down into the surging waves. To my delight the small motor starts first pull.

He stays on the shingle, legs astride. ‘Off you go. Don’t head too far west or you’ll run out of gas before you reach China. Stay close to the coast.’ He turns and strides away and all at once I’m alone in my very own boat, with a whole new ocean at my feet.

I head for the open water. Through the glass I see the shingle fade into sand and then quickly become a deep, murky blue-green as, far below, the beach shelves away into the deep. Soon I cut the engine and look longingly out at the glittering little wavelets. The water is very tempting, glittering in the sunlight. If only I could swim, just for a few minutes … do I dare?

The breeze is chilly but the sun is warm. The shore’s deserted. There’s no one around … In minutes I’ve stripped off. Quivering with excitement I stretch and dive in, entering the water in a perfect, near-silent curve. The water’s a shock – far colder than it looks. But the feel of it on my bare skin is gorgeous – crisp and clean.

I splash about happily in the sunshine for several minutes before clambering back over the side. Heady with freedom I stand up to let the sun warm me through. For a few glorious moments I turn round to catch the sun on all sides and then I wriggle back into my things. Next time I’ll bring a towel – or even try out the wet suit.

I head back to shore, peering eagerly down through the glass panels at the murky shadows below. At last the shelving beach once more glides into view and I park my new present neatly on its shelf of gravelly sand.

As I look up the first person I see is Darnley, striding down the sloping beach to meet me. But, as he draws near, the fury in his face wipes the happy smile off mine.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

CHAPTER THREE

Bewildered, I stare up at him. ‘Swimming, obviously …’ I tail off at the rage in his eyes. I hold his gaze, frowning. ‘Is that a problem? There’s nobody around.’

Darnley looks at me steadily. ‘Sure. Nobody in sight for miles. Let’s go out again. I’ll come too. You drive.’

What now? Why’s he so angry? More unscripted street art?

As we head back out into the bay he’s so silent it’s scary. Something’s very wrong. Looks like I’ll have to wait to find out what it is.

At last he checks his watch and angles it to the sun. ‘OK. Just about here.’

I see we’re drifting roughly where I was before. ‘What are you checking? Are we late for something?’

He glances up, his look dark. ‘Co-ordinates. Longitude and latitude.’

Watching him I feel a tiny thrill as the breeze ruffles his hair and sunlight glints in his dark eyes. And we’re out here all alone, on the wide ocean, and there’s nobody around for miles … ‘We hunting treasure or something?’

‘Cut the motor.’

He’s not laughing now. I feel a sudden unease as he stands up in the middle of the boat and holds out his hand. As I seize it he hauls me to my feet, pulls me up close and winds his arms round me, pressing me against him.

I laugh up at him, relishing his warmth and his power. ‘You’re good in boats. Anyone would think you’d spent all your life on water –’ I break off as he fastens on my mouth, stopping my breath. Startled, I respond instantly. Now? He wants action now?

Water ripples along the sides of the boat. Far overhead gulls scream, like they’re laughing. I’m trapped hard against a tower of sinew and muscle as he flexes to balance, easy as a sailor. He starts to jut against me in a deliberate act of possession, nudging against my yielding softness and finding me only too eager … yes, yes, just there …

He winds one hand into my hair and presses the other tightly into the small of my back, spreading his hand wide, his fingers kneading deep into my rear. He knows precisely what he’s doing. He forces me against him, his grip firm at the base of my spine. He’s doing delicious, wicked, forbidden things to me as the wind whips my hair around us both. His flexing hips, the hard lines of his thighs pressing either side of mine, even the sunlight glowing through my eyelids – everything is sending my arousal into hyperdrive …

He loosens his kiss a little, but only to linger on my lips, his tongue softer now, searching along mine to caress and taste, sending sparks of excitement through me to highlight the hot glow building lower down where our hips are grinding together. When he finally loosens his grip on my tail I almost lose my balance.

‘Hey.’ He clutches me tight again, his grasp on my hips my only balancing point as I grope for the rail. At that moment a sudden breeze lashes a wave against the side. Water splashes over us as the boat rocks violently.

‘You OK? Looks like somebody’s been seriously landlocked. You need some practice.’ He laughs as I bend low and he butts against me in fun.

All at once he lands a hard slap on my rump, and then another. I shout, partly in surprise, partly with laughter. But there’s something darker going on here, some new edge to his manner. It’s play, but something else too. He slaps me again. I’m already bent double but this time I jolt forward so my face swoops down close to the glass panel.

Instantly I freeze. And then I scream.

But not for fun.

I’m staring at something so unlikely I can only gape, too shocked to speak.

Darnley’s laughing softly somewhere over my head. ‘Too hard? Just you wait. You can get up now.’

But I’m not listening. I’m still locked in position, bent double and rigid with shock. I’m staring at a face.

And it’s not my reflection. It’s wearing goggles and it’s grinning.

Somebody’s down there watching.

* * *

‘Face? What kind of face? There’s nobody around here for miles. If somebody was playing around underwater we’d have seen them.’ Darnley’s not buying it. He scowls at the water and then restarts the engine, his expression grim.

I’ve broken the spell. I feel a prickle of guilt. ‘Somebody was peering in. I saw them. He had goggles. He could be anywhere …’ I look round in a panic. ‘He was grinning.’

The shock must show in my face but Darnley’s unmoved. ‘The beach is public land. We get tourists round here even in winter. But there’s nobody out here now. You saw some seaweed. Or maybe a seal.’

When we get to the shore he pulls the boat up the slipway and watches tight-lipped while I replace the cover. Indoors I can hear him on the phone, his voice thick with fury while I rinse sand off my toes in the en-suite. Slowly I tune in to what he’s saying.

‘That’s impossible. Nobody gets through. Check again. It’s supposed to be foolproof, dammit. We’ll be there after lunch. I expect a result by then.’

I frown as I join him. ‘We’re going out this afternoon?’

He cuts the call, his manner breezy. ‘We’re going over to the training complex. You’ll meet some of the people you’ll be working with. Now come with me.’

He’s still not looking at me.

He seizes my hand and drags me through the house and down a couple of flights of stairs to a tough-looking metal door. I’m feeling more and more uneasy.

‘This is the control room. There’s something here I want you to see.’

The room is festooned with cable and lined with screens. Men in T-shirts and jeans, I assume technicians, shoot to their feet looking scared. At Darnley’s scowl they quickly leave.

He turns to me, his eyes cold. ‘Watch.’ He flicks a remote at a screen.

All at once I’m looking out over the bay. Centre-screen a woman is splashing about in the water, glistening and naked. She looks insanely happy and carefree. She dives a couple of times, then floats on her back, upthrust breasts glistening in the sunlight. As I watch she clambers up into a small boat and poses, fully on view as she prepares to dive again. I hold my breath as a dreadful chill steals over me.

It’s me.

‘Keep watching.’

He speeds up the film and now he’s in the boat too and he’s towering over me, looking down at me … and all at once we’re locked in a clinch so intense I feel a throb of arousal just watching.

Slowly I tear my eyes away and glare at him. ‘You took pictures? Why?’

His eyes blaze. ‘This is security footage, dammit. We were doing a random sweep of the bay. The camera’s on-watch even when you think nobody’s around.’

I glare at him, temper rising as icy shock gives way to fury. ‘And whenever you want some hot action? It’s on then?’

My voice is husky. But the footage is still tracking. My voice tails off as I see the boat rocking and me bending over, facing away. He’s grinning down at me, holding me firmly by the hips as I scrabble to balance and all at once he lands an almighty slap on my backside …

My mouth’s gone dry. ‘What are you doing? Those men could have seen this.’

His eyes blaze. ‘Fuck it, Ella, what do you think I’m doing? Of course they’ve seen it. The whole damn complex saw it.’

I round on him. ‘So you serve me up as free soft-core with their coffee? Next time you want fun in a boat, damn well call an escort. You could have said you had cameras watching.’

Sickened, I turn away but an iron hand clamps on my arm and propels me round to face him. His face is like granite, his eyes ablaze.

‘Do I always have to spell it out? Of course I had cameras watching, I always have cameras watching. That’s what security is. That’s what I do. And that was to teach you – and them – a lesson.’

‘A lesson?’ I wrench my arm away. ‘Let go of me.’ I take a few steps back just to make sure. ‘You deliberately let me think we were having some private time in my boat and you were filming it just to give me a lesson?’

‘Keep your voice down. Listen to me –’ He steps towards me and I take another step back.

‘I just listened. And I can’t believe you just did that.’

He lets out an impatient sigh. ‘One of the first things security people learn is to be discreet around their employers, no matter what. And believe it or not, one of the first things employers should learn is to consider their employees’ feelings and not get too carried away. So today they learned their lesson and you learned yours. From now on their behaviour towards you will be monitored. If they get over-friendly, or make you feel uncomfortable, they’ll lose marks.’

‘What? So I’m an exercise now? I’m your fiancée, Darnley. I have a position here. And you owe me respect.’ I dart out of the door and race up the steps.

Fury has strange effects. One of them is it clears things. As I run through the house up to our rooms all that bothers me is how fast I can pack, what I’ll need to take and how I get to the airport. Mercifully no one follows as I ram clothes into a holdall, reach for a thick jacket and check my purse has credit cards, loose change and tissues.

From the feel of it I’ll need plenty – but not yet.

As I make for the door a tall figure bars my way.

‘Going somewhere?’ Darnley’s glaring at me, his presence a powerful bar to my plans.

I catch my breath at the reality of him, looming in front of me. He looks so good … ‘I’m leaving. And don’t try to stop me.’

‘What? Why?’

I stare at him, stunned. ‘Why? Because you can’t do that. You can’t disrespect me like that in front of other people. Is that what you planned when you brought me out here?’

‘It was just a kiss, Ella.’ He’s frowning, like I’m talking in some weird foreign language. Like it’s me who’s unreasonable. ‘Your freestyle antics got a lot of attention. I was making a statement. I wanted to make sure everybody here knows exactly whose you are and why you’re here.’ He spreads his hands, his expression calm, but anger sharpens the tone of his voice, adds a glint to his eyes. ‘And believe it or not, that was the simplest way to do it. Now they’ll think twice before trying anything funny. And with any luck so will you.’ His eyes flare again. ‘And next time, wear your fucking wet suit. That’s what it’s for.’

‘Next time? Who says there’ll be a next time?’

For a second, shock shows in his eyes. I waver, but only for an instant. He was filming that – me in an open boat … what else might he film? Maybe he’s got cameras lined up everywhere. Maybe I’ve walked into some porno nightmare, where everything we do is going to be filmed, packaged up, marketed and sold …

I try to push past him. ‘Let me go.’

He bars my way, immovable as rock. ‘Ella. Please.’ He pushes me back against the wall. ‘There are things I have to tell you about this place. I should have told you before.’ His eyes glint as he glares down at me. ‘First off, that thing in the boat made perfect sense to me.’

I open my mouth to protest but he claps a hand over my mouth. ‘OK, OK, not to you. I get it. But you work with troubled people, Ella. I’d have thought you of all people would understand what I’m trying to do here.’

‘I do understand. And I want to help. But that was plain wrong.’

His eyes glimmer. ‘Was it? Why? Because I take you out in a boat and kiss you? We do it all the time. Other people do it all the time. And in public.’

‘Not for that.’ I break off, startled at the flicker of pain that crosses his face. I summon patience. ‘OK. So tell me why you think that’s acceptable. I’m new here.’

‘Me too, dammit.’ His eyes blaze. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say. We’re all new here.’ He runs his hand along my arm, his touch on my skin like a shimmer of electricity.

His eyelids lower. Like he senses my response, his voice lowers. ‘That’s what this place is all about. Thinking outside the box. I told you that before we came. You knew what to expect. And this is what it’s like. I’m trying out something new here. We’re all learning. Even me. You may see or hear weird things, odd behaviour. Our recruits come from all over. Some of them may be – unpredictable.’

He’s frowning, his touch on my arm magnetic. His hand moves gently on my skin, his fingers folding round my arm. ‘OK, that was a mistake. But I’m relying on you, Ella. Don’t give up on me yet. Be patient.’

And all at once he pulls me close and stops my mouth with his. His attack is so sudden, his tongue so disturbing, I react instantly. I kiss him back in a frenzy as he takes possession, forcing me back hard against the wall, his tongue angry and probing, his erection, hard and rampant, grinding into me.

When he releases my mouth I smile slowly, forgiving him fast. My fierce surge of arousal is a powerful persuader, but I take one last kick. ‘What’s this? Still making a claim? We’re not in the boat now.’

His grinds against me again, pressing painfully into my soft, swelling places, He sets up a steady, cynical rhythm with his hips, sending darts of fire shooting through me.

Oh, yes … almost there …

He rests his forehead against mine and lowers his voice to a velvety murmur. ‘I make statements in public. I take my pleasures in private.’ His breathing’s unsteady now, as his eyes burn into mine. ‘Open your legs.’

He pins my hands high up on the wall with one hand while he rearranges my jeans with the other, tearing at my zip and pushing roughly at my denim so he can reach into my thighs. His hand’s firm and hot, his intention plain.

Deep down inside me fury still simmers. All it does is make everything more vivid. I thrust towards him eagerly, desperate now after all the teasing.

But he pauses, his eyes troubled, like he needs permission. And all at once I get it: he is asking permission.

Something in his expression tells me he knows he’s gone too far. He sees his weird alpha-male thing in my boat has upset me. He’s sorry. And waiting for permission at a moment as raw and urgent as this is how he says so.

My heart melts. For a second I press my cheek against his in a kind of soft, unspoken act of consent.

With a sharp sigh of relief he surges up inside me in a single thrust, a slick ramrod of power that almost jerks me off my feet. It’s like his rage is gathered in his loins, focused in his cock, propelling into me like a torpedo. He pulls away slowly and rams again, his gaze pinning me to the wall as surely as the pounding weight of his lithe, muscular body and the tight grip of his hand.

And now my arousal surges to match as I strain closer to meet him, thrust for thrust. I have territory too … softer than his, maybe, and quietly swollen with waves of desire from my gentler rush of emotions, but just as insistent and just as needy.

His eyes glitter as he draws closer to his finish. It’s part in triumph but partly something new. I can almost feel the pain of delay as he slows inside me, impaling me, holding off for agonising seconds but poised on the brink. It’s another statement of power, another tiny assertion of discipline, that he can make it last, make me beg …

‘How can you do this? Hold off like this?’ I’m breathless, longing for him to finish so I can catch him up. I’m only seconds away, my pressure building, everything deep down poised and aching for his next merciful invasion …

My climax hovers like coming thunder while he holds off the moment, still determined to pay me out. ‘Is this a punishment? It’s unnatural.’

He watches with a gleam as I wince and push against him, willing him in. I was enjoying that … He knows I’m close. I don’t have to tell hm. If I can feel his heat, he sure as heck can feel mine. It must glow all around him, burn in my pleading gaze, ripple through my soft muscles where they’re still drawing him in, craving release.

‘Discipline,’ he says quietly. ‘That’s how. Time you learned some.’

I stare at him, my pleasure peaking now. Any moment …

‘You mean –?’

His slow smile answers my question. My heart sinks.

What was I thinking? Why remind him of all that now? I see a sudden image of him towering over me, bronzed and oiled, his eyes burning into mine as I kneel before him, waiting patiently for him to do things I never knew people did.

Things I never knew people enjoyed.

The image is so powerful I stare up at him bewildered as he surges into me again in a final triumphant thrust that brings him to fruition and sends me careering over some edge that turns out to be far higher than I thought it was and now I’m falling, flailing, afloat on a sea of pleasure …

His low snarl jerks me back to reality.

‘Yes, discipline. Restraints. That’s exactly what I mean.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘So find out. I want the names of everybody who can swim and anybody who was off-site this morning. And I want them yesterday. Got that?’

Darnley’s voice is low and fierce. He’s making calls while we change for lunch. While I’m in the en-suite he speaks fast. As I walk back out he’s already sliding the phone into his pocket.

So he does think we had a snooper. I swallow. What else goes on around here? Or is he still rattled about this morning? Maybe he’s not used to me making a stand. Something about that cut him deep.

Lunch is light and tasty, small portions of chowder with crusty bread and fresh butter from a local farm, followed by peaches. He says little, but watches me throughout. When I drain the last of my zingy local wine he gets up and holds out his hand.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Where do you think? We’ve things to discuss.’

I bite back a grin as he leads me into the bedroom and pulls me down beside him, his eyes dark with need. At a faint movement in his jeans I feel a surge of heat so explicit I wonder if he can sense it. The gleam in his eyes hints that maybe he does. He peels up my thin sweater and nuzzles deep in my breasts as he hauls me up to lie over him.

‘Have you thought about what I asked you to do here? Or did that stuff this morning change your mind?’

With an effort I drag myself back to the main reason I’m here.

We’re here for a few weeks on a kind of working vacation. He’s supervising the launch of his training facility here on the West Coast while he waits for the results of his international deals to get shareholder or government approvals. After that he’ll have an international workload and I’ll be at work here, doing some specialised teaching – literacy, mainly. But till then he’s all mine.

And while I’m here I’m not just arm candy. What he was trying to tell me this morning I already knew – that the recruits are handpicked for special security ops.

The idea is that young people, some troubled, all unusual, are referred here from the military, secret services, special schools, even remand centres for short, intensive courses in security work. It means they get a boost to their confidence and maybe a new start. The work is risky but he’s got a lot of agencies on board –including the Principal at my specialist academy in Boston.

And with his special brand of Darnley magic he’s even arranged for me to come out here and help. But the final decision rests with me. I’ve still not said I’ll do it for certain.

I grin. ‘The work sounds great, just what I like. Plus I’ll be living here, with you. Seriously tempting. But –’

He runs his hand over my flank, making me shiver as his fingers search out the swelling mound of my rump, exposed and quivering where I straddle his hips.

‘But?’

I narrow my eyes. ‘It might have been easier without being turned into a public porno.’ He fondles me from behind, his fingers exploring and insistent. I shudder as I lean back into his touch and at the same time try to balance.

‘So?’ He’s grinning, enjoying my fight to focus while he’s tormenting me from the rear. ‘You’ve still not answered the question.’

‘If I’m joining the team?’ I say sweetly. ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve looked round.’

In fact I’d give my right arm to be here and his sardonic grin warns me he’s guessed. But something in his look makes me shiver – and even more determined to hold out.

‘Be my guest,’ he says softly. ‘Better start looking now.’

My inspection starts with his broad chest, his skin salty on my tongue as I lick eagerly around his tight little nipples and pretend to pin him down by leaning hard on his biceps, well aware that at the least flex of them he’d overpower me utterly. And the longer we stay and play, the longer before I have to face the curious stares of my new students, who’ll just love having a skinny-dipping teacher who frolics in boats …

Truth to tell, working this close to my fiancé may be tricky. His temper’s uncertain, to say the least. And if he’s as hard to please at work as he is in bed I’ll have my work cut out.

Now his dark look sends tremors through me as I make my way slowly down the hills and valleys of his chest-scape. I can sense his impatience as I swiftly unfasten his jeans and free him for inspection.

His breathing speeds up as I close in on his eager, jutting manhood, now only inches from my lips. I can feel the warmth from his thighs, where his business centre lurks in its dark mat of springy hair, eager for attention, even more eager when I start to give it some.

Down here he’s newly clean and vividly rampant. The light, elusive scent of his shower gel mingles with the dark Darnley-aroma of his crotch. It works havoc on my heightened senses. For some reason the light, teasing touches of my lips and my tongue inflame him even faster than usual. With a low growl he soon takes control and kneels up over me, his thighs like carved columns at either side of my face.

‘Take it deep. All the way.’

Whoa. Where did this come from? I do it quickly, my mind racing. He had a shock last night – right after the scrawled graffiti greeted our arrival. And then there was that business in the boat … Is this some kind of delayed reaction?

I take him deep, eager to please, gulping the last couple of inches to tease him with my clutching throat, but this angle is awkward. His remote, faintly amused gaze warns me my struggle turns him on, so I persist, biting back my protest, making sure he can see me strain.

Whatever he wants. I gasp air when I can as he starts to slide in and out of my eager mouth and I yawn my throat open to receive him, to please him …

Is this helping? Will it soothe him? Is this what keeps him sane? Or is it simply taking control that grants him peace? And why is he so casual about that face I saw? I’m still shaky over it. Since when did seaweed wear goggles?

What is it he’s not telling me?

As he eases me away from his cock and throws himself back down on the covers, it hits me all at once that maybe I’m missing a trick here. He’s mad as hell.

This is a family with secrets. And out here Darnley’s got secrets too.

And maybe one of them is he’s scared for me.

He leans up and kisses me on the mouth, his lips light but his gaze hot. ‘Sunny side up? Or sunny side down?’

He’s grinning now, calm and relaxed, and all at once it’s me who’s tense. I raise myself up and gaze down at him. ‘Are you OK about these – hitches? The paint, that face? I know you said to expect weird things – but how weird were they? Tell me.’

He frowns. ‘Why?’

I swallow. ‘It’s just – you should tell me when you worry about things.’

He tips me off and rolls over on top of me, his erection jutting into my belly, hot and hard, still close. I feel a faint throb in response as he moves gently against me, pressing me cruelly close to my peak.

‘I’d sooner not. Not when what I worry about is you.’

He fastens on my mouth for a long, hot kiss and then shifts into position with our mouths still fused together. When he releases my lips he rests on his hands and slides right up inside, each thrust of his loins a jolt of possession, a statement of love. My mind empties of everything but his power and his heat as he rams into me, filling me up, over and over, the dark gleam in his eyes pinning me down as effectively as his muscled forearms, his tight grip and his fierce hunger.

This time we come almost at the same moment, me tipping over the edge just seconds before he does. Maybe my spasms fire his climax – maybe it’s simply the ecstatic moan of pleasure that escapes me as he jolts me into my final bliss. Our embrace fuses us together for long seconds.

We finally stretch out to relax, then I twine around him and nestle in the crook of his arm. I’ll keep my questions for later. This close, I sense he’s still keeping something back.

The glint in his eyes is a warning. Something’s not going to plan. And I’ve an uneasy feeling that it’s somehow linked to me.

* * *

At last we set off for the complex. We cross the highway and drive towards the foothills in Darnley’s flashy new convertible. With the wind in our hair and an open road it makes a welcome change from the cushioned privacy of his limo. Without his driver we feel reckless, like kids.

On the way he fills me in on some of the detail about his new venture, his hand straying constantly from the steering wheel to stroke my thigh.

I try to focus as he does this, but it’s an effort.

‘There’s renovation work still going on. The new intake’s on short, intensive courses, just to give them a taster, a feel for the conditions some of their future employers may expect.’

He slows to steer round a motorcycle and then eyes it in the rear-view mirror. ‘And some of the recruits are – well, you’ll see when you meet them. They come from different backgrounds, shall we say.’

‘Like ours at the Academy?’

He grins briefly and then squeezes my thigh. ‘That’s partly why I want you on board. You’re brilliant with difficult kids. Your Principal thinks so, anyway.’

I roll my eyes. ‘He never said. Maybe if he had I’d have stayed in Boston.’

He squeezes my thigh again. ‘Do I detect mutiny in my troops? This may need a touch of discipline.’

A spike of alarm brings with it a stab of arousal so acute I ache. ‘Maybe we should talk about this another time.’ I try for carefree, but it comes out husky.

He laughs and lowers his voice. ‘It’s a date.’

The complex is being set up in a former sports and leisure facility. It’s being extensively refurbished. Workmen are everywhere.

The site seems huge. It’s mostly bushes and scrub but here and there it’s dotted with cactus and yucca. I can hear shouting from one of the fields like there’s football going on somewhere.

I make out a golf course and a shooting range. Cabins and outbuildings cluster round a half-emptied pool. Sports fields seem to stretch all around us. As we cruise along the freshly paved driveway up to the low ranch-like building at its hub I learn that the site was too far off the highway to turn a profit.

‘The caterers tried to keep up hotel standards. Got too costly to run so they had to sell. But the isolation makes it perfect for this. Ah, here she is. My temporary manager and our guide for today.’ He eases the powerful car to a purring halt and glances at me with a sardonic grin. ‘But I was forgetting. You two already met.’

I feel myself stiffen. Walking towards us I see my new manager. And that sour look on her face tells me she’s just as thrilled to see me. Freda.

‘Hi there, we meet again. Enjoy your dip? We all did.’

My heart sinks. So she still dislikes me.

‘Hi.’ I smile politely, ignoring the rest.

To my surprise her face softens. ‘Saw a whole new you out there, Ella. I’d no idea you had it in you.’ She gives a short bark of laughter. ‘I mean, I can guess it’s in you pretty much most of the time, but still –’

‘Enough.’ Darnley’s scowl cuts her off.

She grins. ‘Lighten up, cousin. We’re in the fun state now. Let me show you both around.’

She walks on ahead, her boot heels clicking on the new wooden floors. We look into various rooms as we pass. Recruits, some working on equipment, some peering at whiteboards, glance up as she glares in at their instructors and waits just long enough to disrupt the teaching before moving on.

It’s an unpleasant display of power. Weirdly, it seems to be aimed at me. Darnley pays little attention. He’s busy murmuring into his phone.

She’ll be a nightmare to work for, I think. I vow to tackle him about some aspects of my stay here.

I slip away now and then and talk to some of the new recruits, guessing some of them will be my pupils too. While Darnley takes his cousin aside to ask her how things are going I sidle up to one group after another and say hi.

It’s worse than I thought.

‘Wow. You mean you’re …’

‘Hey, you guys, guess who this is?’

‘You mean you’re gonna teach here? Phew …’

All too aware what this is really about, I steel myself to laugh it off.

Inside I’m seething. How could he do this?

‘Hey. You making friends already? Time to go.’

The recruits take a step back as Darnley touches my arm. They quickly turn back to their task – in this case, something on laptops. They’re working on a new ID system. The best one may be developed at Wolfe Security HQ.

When I mentioned surfing I learned that none of them here actually swims. So who was it under my boat this morning?

Now I turn to my fiancé with a calm smile. ‘Sure. Right away. Bye, you guys.’ I’m rewarded with a few covert glances and a couple of knowing smiles.

Freda eyes me calmly. ‘You off, then? Cool. Have fun in your new boat. We’ll look forward to it.’

Her earthy chuckle follows us out into the sunshine as we head for the car. Out of earshot I shake my arm free of Darnley’s grip.

‘How could you do that? That was the most excruciating half-hour of my life. After a stunt like that you seriously expect me to teach these people?’

‘Calm down.’ His eyes snap. ‘Wait till we’re on the road. They’ll hear you.’

‘They’ve seen me. That’s bad enough.’

His face softens. ‘Hey, chill. They like you. Here, you drive.’

He throws the keys at me. Miraculously I catch them.

With a snort I take the driver’s seat, peer at the controls and then gulp. ‘What? Me drive this?’

He’s eyeing me from the passenger seat, his arms folded. ‘You heard.’

My heart sinks as I fire the engine and take a swift check on where the controls are. It takes me a while to adjust to new cars, and this is a powerful V8 engine, gleaming new.

His sarcastic grin sparks my temper and soon we’re heading out of the driveway and back on the road to the coast. I try to keep up my protest but it’s hard, with the sight of cactus lining the road, hot sunshine on my back and the glorious Pacific wind blowing back my hair. The feel of the powerful engine at my feet and the light, twitchy steering wheel, responsive as a lover, does the rest.

Soon I relax and let the powerful engine sing to me as I take it up through the gears and lean on the gas.

‘Hey, slow down. You’re speeding. We don’t want to get pulled over.’

I laugh, high now on power and wind and speed. ‘Who’s going to pull us over? There’s nobody for miles.’

I rest my hand on his thigh, thrilling to the hard muscles I feel as I give him a squeeze. Quid pro quo. He was doing it to me, all the time we drove over here …

‘Keep your eyes on the road.’

His angry snap sends a little ripple of desire through me that mingles with the light and the speed and makes me laugh. But as I check in the rear-view mirror my knuckles stiffen on the steering wheel.

Shit. In the distance I can see a motorcycle. It’s bearing down fast, like it wants to catch us up. Someone’s spotted us so soon?

I almost jerk the car as I stand on the brake to slow us down to the state limit. Now the bike is closing in. It’s almost on us …

‘Pull over. He wants to pass.’ Darnley’s shout scares me so much I jump.

The steering jolts us dangerously close to the roaring machine, barely a foot away from my door as it starts to overtake. A furious blast from his horn makes me jump again and we ricochet, the sensitive steering over-reacting as the tires hit the loose stones along the edge of the dusty road.

And now I see something else – this is no state trooper. He’s clad head to foot in black leather and he’s wearing goggles. Worse, he looks mad. He thought I did that on purpose.

I lean over the lowered window to grin an apology and I see he’s peering at me with a broad grin, his teeth firm and white, and he’s leaning out towards me.

At that moment there’s a ghastly scraping noise and an angry yell from Darnley. ‘Pull over, dammit. He’s crunching into you. And for fuck’s sake slow down.’

Panic had jammed my foot on the gas. Now I ease it off, but I’ve lost control of our balance. All at once we’re all over the place and we veer dangerously close to the side of the road.

With a terrifying jolt the tires lose their grip and we career off the road and head into the scrubby landscape lining our route to the highway.

CHAPTER FIVE

After a few terrifying bumps and jolts we halt in a clump of bushes.

Behind us the motorcycle roars off into the distance, its rider yelling with laughter and hooting his twin klaxon in triumph.

I lean over the steering wheel, panting, my hands still locked on it. I can feel sweat trickle down my back.

‘You OK?’ Darnley’s low voice stirs me to a shudder.

‘Sure,’ I say, hoping I’ll sound less squeaky when I’ve breathed in a few times. ‘Here. You drive.’ I snatch the keys out of the ignition and dangle them.

He takes no notice.

I stay where I am, still panting, as he gets out of the passenger seat and comes round to inspect the damage. He regards it in silence for a moment and then looks back at the road, his nostrils flaring. ‘He made a mess of the door. OK, we better go back. Start the car and reverse out.’

I stare at him in panic as he takes a few steps back. ‘Wait. Aren’t you driving?’

‘Nope. You are.’

‘I can’t.’ I lick my lips.

He leans over the door and puts his hand around the back of my neck, folding his fingers lovingly so that his thumb grazes the tip of my ear. ‘You must, Ella. If you don’t you’ll be too scared for months. Just do it. Take it slow. You’ll be fine.’

His tone and his look are so gentle, and the kiss he drops on my damp, clammy forehead so hot, that I take a deep breath and turn the key.

‘OK. But don’t blame me if we get lost.’

We almost do as I finally edge out of the clump of bushes. Still on autopilot I make for the lane we were on before.

‘Turn left. Back to the complex.’ His sharp command makes me wrench the wheel.

Rattled, I spin the wheel in the other direction. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see.’ His mouth settles into a grim line.

He phones ahead. When we finally pull up a reception committee is waiting for us. Darnley instantly leaps over the side of the car and strides up to them. ‘Show us the transport hangar. We missed it before. Now.’

He glances back at me, his look angry. ‘Ella, get your ass over here.’

I gather my doting fiancé wants me to join him. As I do so he grips my arm but his anger’s focused on Freda.

‘Which of your machines just came back in?’

To my intense satisfaction she actually looks scared. ‘What? None of them. Why?’

I swear she’s changed colour. In answer he strides off towards a long, low shed we’d missed on the tour. I’d thought it was empty but as we walk inside I see it’s full of machinery – motorcycles. Two gleaming rows of them are lined up in the pale, dust-filled space where the afternoon sun slants in through the skylight. There must be around thirty machines here, some of them large and very powerful.

As we walk in a pale-faced mechanic walks towards us, wiping his hands on an oily rag. He’s stocky, his dark hair limp and greasy. His mouth slumps badly at one side. ‘Sumpn’ up, y’all?’

Freda glances at me. ‘This is Chet Newson, our mechanic.’ She strides forward and he shrinks back, instantly cowed. ‘Any of the bikes been out today?’

‘Nossir. None of’em. I bin workin’ here since breakfast. Sir. I mean, ma’am.’

Darnley glances at me. ‘Feel the motors. See if one of them’s hot. I’ll take the row on the left. You take the right.’

I do it, marvelling at the massed power in here. The machines are all gleaming BMWs or Harley-Davidsons, shiny-new and arranged in order of size. The little mechanic clearly takes pride in his work.

They’re all cold.

Freda stays near the door, pinning the mechanic with her steely gaze. ‘Chet? Are you sure about that?’

He mumbles a reply and she continues to question him, her voice low. When we rejoin her he seems close to tears.

She shakes her head. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth. He’s a good kid. That right, Chet?’

She ruffles his lank hair in a sudden fond gesture. He’s clearly an apple or two short of a picnic, but I look at her with new respect.

The little mechanic certainly seems to like her. His eyes follow her like a devoted puppy’s as she heads for the door, now talking earnestly to Darnley, her voice low.

‘Whoever it was, they can’t have come from here. You can see these machines are still cold …’

‘Ma’am?’ I jump as Chet leans close to me, his gaze anxious. Close up he smells of motor oil and sweat.

‘Hi, Chet. What is it?’ I smile, still shaky.

‘You wus swimmin’ this morning, right?’

My smile vanishes. Oh, no, not another … ‘Yes. You swim too?’

He takes a step back, fear in his eyes. ‘Nossir. Tain’t safe. There’s a troll down there.’

I frown. ‘A what?’

His eyes are wide now. He licks his lips. ‘A cave troll. I heerd it. Tain’t safe down there. You stay outta the water, ma’am.’

I smile vaguely and back away to the door.

A few hours earlier I’d have taken no notice. But I’m still chilly from shock. It’s no time to dismiss cave trolls out of hand. I feel his eyes on my back as I hurry out into the welcome sunshine and catch up with Darnley.

He folds his arm round me. ‘You done?’ He nods to Freda. ‘Let me know if you hear anything. We’d better get back.’

Freda’s cool downward glance sweeps me again and then she turns away.

* * *

On the way back we say little. This time Darnley drives.

I’m still seething over this morning. He’s being simply Darnley. Silent and stern, alone with his thoughts. The set of his jaw hints they’ll stay his for a while.

As we come in sight of his sleek beachfront mansion I fold my arms and jut my chin. ‘So, are you going to apologise?’

He pulls his damaged convertible to a purring halt and turns to look at me, his eyes cold. ‘For what?’

I’m getting emotional now. It’s been a trying day. ‘For treating your new fiancée like a tramp. For humiliating me in front of the people I’m supposed to teach. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep your dignity in a classroom? It’s crucial. And all for …’ I tail off. Don’t push this, I think.

‘For what?’

Cross now, I say it anyway. ‘For Freda,’ I mutter.

To my fury he grins. ‘Still bitching about Freda? Hey. Lighten up. We survived your driving, we can survive anything, even her. Come on in. We’ll clean you up and then –’ He kisses me unexpectedly on the cheek.

‘And then?’ I glower back.

He grins. ‘And then we’ll get you all dirty again.’

* * *

I feel better after some coffee. When he’s sure I’ve calmed down he hustles me into the shower and we linger under the jet. He smears gel all over my softest places and then teases me in the hardest of ways, with cold and hot water, and with firm caresses of his busy hands, until I’m warm, refreshed – and eager.

When he finally bundles me up in a towel and scoops me up in his arms I’m shrieking in protest and drumming my fists on his back. ‘You can’t do this. Put me down.’

‘Sure thing, ma’am. Right here?’

I land on my back and sprawl out on the bed as he lands on top of me. He musses my hair with the towel in a token attempt to dry it and then fastens his mouth on mine, splaying my arms wide and pinning me down with his tongue and his powerful, gym-honed body until my giggles die away, stifled in my throat. Soon I’m kissing him back, easy and content, warm and damp from the shower and his growing impatience.

‘You sleepy now? I owe you an apology.’

I open my eyes with a snap. ‘You do? That’s a first. I don’t want to miss that.’

I’m genuinely mystified – it’s not a word I’ve ever heard him use. And now the gleam in his eyes tells me it’s not for what he did to me this morning … it’s for what he left out.

He’s kneeling up over me, laughing. ‘I’ve been neglecting you since this morning. I think you need some serious attention. Hold still. Put your arms up over your head. I want a good view of your tits while I do this.’

Grinning now I obey. Instantly I clench as he kneels between my knees, spreads my thighs wide and starts to drop soft, gentle kisses all down the inside of one thigh and up the inside of the other, before swooping down on my splayed, pulsing gap. He gives me a slow, roguish smile, lowers his head and starts to feast.

His tongue is so busy and so urgent I find it impossible to keep still. Soon I give up the struggle and my hands fly down to his head. I thread my fingers deep into his hair in a futile attempt to pull him away, if only to give my flaring, scorching arousal a breather from his busy mouth. ‘Stop, stop. It’s so intense. I can’t –’ I break off and gasp. For some reason, all unbidden, tears are coursing down my hair and into the pillows.

He raises his head and frowns. ‘Ella? What’s up?’

‘I can’t – I’m so sorry. It’s too much. I thought …’

His eyes narrow as he surges up to join me, his expression stern. ‘What? What did you think?’

I stare at him as the reality of what I’ve been thinking hits me like a stone. ‘I thought you were angry with me. I thought …’

I tail off again, scared of going on, like saying it will somehow make it come true. I thought he’d stopped loving me.

I shake myself. I’m getting weepy. It must be delayed shock …

‘Nothing,’ I grin weakly as his cruel, slow smile brings me back to my senses. I feel a flare of heat deep down and a flame of arousal so fierce I wonder if he senses it. ‘Don’t stop,’ I murmur. ‘Please.’

His eyes narrow as he curves over my body and raises himself up on his arms. The power in his gaze shreds my will as his eyes burn into me. My feeble protest at his intimate, controlling caress has stirred something dark inside him, something feral.

‘Too late.’

His low growl rumbles through me like distant thunder. The effect settles in my groin and sets up a steady, nagging pulse.

‘You missed your chance. Now it’s my turn.’ He’s nudging my thighs apart with his knee as he flows over me in a lithe, unstoppable flood of power and muscle, his eyes pinning me into submission. And with a grunt he plunges inside, his first thrust sending me into hyperspace as my trembling belly clutches round him and grips him tight.

His dark smile warns me he can feel my hunger and knows I’m powerless in his grip. He withdraws slowly, his eyes searching my face, watching every trace of my reaction. His next plunge ebbs away just as slowly and sets our rhythm. Soon we’re fusing together, my hips arching to meet him, matching my own pleasure to every touch of his pounding loins.

His flood of energy takes me over and I’m afloat on his tide. Each powerful thrust fills me up, each slow, lingering withdrawal draws me to him. The heat in his gaze as he finally brings me to fruition stirs my heart.

He touches his lips to mine, murmurs soft things into my ear, scolds me for not paying attention when my looming orgasm starts to transport me, and finally leans down close, threading his fingers into my wet hair as he shudders to his own completion.

It tells me that however grim his thoughts were on the way home, and however much I still resent that scary, alpha-male demo thing in my boat, he still loves me and needs me.

And I love him too. Far more than I’d ever admit.

* * *

‘The attacks mostly take place just north of San Francisco. Nobody has so far been hurt or directly molested but state police warn some bizarre aspects of the attacks suggest the attacker may need help. Today’s weather? Mild and sunny inland but if you’re on the beaches take care in those foggy stretches. And now for news closer to home …’

I switch off the radio and pour myself another cup of coffee. No Darnley this morning. He’s vanished into the fog, along with the glorious views of the bay from his windows, and the warm Californian sun.

He’s gone over to the complex on business, the convertible is in for repair and a respray and I’ve got a date with my boat.

They’re right about the fog. As I make my way down to the beach thick mist settles over me in a damp, white blanket. It mats my hair, chills my skin and muffles my footsteps as I crunch my way down the shingle.

No chance of skinny-dipping in this – even without Darnley on hand to demand a forfeit. Without its fabled sunshine the air out here is dank enough for New England, the quiet splash of the waves hidden by the mist as eerie as the white winter silence of the Maine woods. I shiver and pull my goose-down jacket tighter.

As I reach my boat I stop short.

It’s decorated with seaweed.

It’s beached well above the water line and beyond the reach of the waves so it’s not decorated by chance. There’s been no storm.

Someone has looped festoons of it along the sides. All at once I hear a low, roaring boom.

Fear prickles along my back. I stand very still and peer into the mist. Now I sense sounds, little shuffles in the grasses along the path, small rustles from further away. A clank, like someone’s moving something heavy, made of metal.

‘Hello?’ My voice falls short in the stifling fog. It seems to reach no further than I can see. ‘Anybody there?’

The boom comes again, a terrifying, hollow sound, like an echo but louder. All at once there’s a flurry of movement and a crash as somebody lands on the shingle behind me.

I spin round to see a leather-clad figure in goggles peering at me out of the mist.

If I had any voice I’d scream. As it is I’m paralysed for a whole two seconds, unable to speak, squeak or even run as the figure before me slowly removes its goggles. ‘Ms Dean? I came to warn ya.’

It’s Chet Newson, his eyes wide and scared.

He’s not nearly as scared as me. Shakily I gasp air.

‘Kin you hear it?’ He’s leaning towards me, his face contorted. ‘That’s him. That’s the cave troll. He’s here. You don’ wanna mess with them things, miss. They’s real dangerous.’

The boom comes yet again, louder than ever now. He shrinks back and starts to jabber.

Now I’m scared too, but I’m also puzzled. I don’t believe in ghosts – even though, right this minute, some part of me wants to jabber too.

‘Calm down, Chet,’ I snap. ‘It’s probably nothing of the sort. Anyway, what are you doing here? You came all the way out here just to tell me that?’

It occurs to me that I’m alone here and he may mean well but he may have – urges. I swallow.

Suddenly he slips his hand into his jacket and I take a nervous step back.

‘They say you’s a poet, Miss. I writ you a poem. Here.’

He stuffs a card in my hand. I stare at it for a moment. It’s a Wolfe Security business card, like the one Darnley left me once, a long time ago. As I turn it over I see something scrawled on the back.

‘Wel cum home fokes!’

It’s the same message we found splashed on the wall in crimson paint.

And the same spelling.

As I look up the boom comes again. This time Chet shrieks and scrambles back up the shallow sloping cliff, sending rocks and loose stones pattering down as he scrabbles for a foothold.

‘Wait,’ I shout. ‘Chet? Come back here. Did you write this?’

He’s already halfway up, clawing at tufts of sea grass and dipping ledges where seabirds have worn holes. He looks down, his face contorted, as he shouts down. ‘Who, me? No’m, I cain’t write. It wus him. He did it. The cave troll.’

The mist is lifting now. As he reaches the top, scrambling the last few feet in his panic to get away, I see the fuzzy silhouette of a motorcycle emerge from the mist. It’s parked on the top of the headland.

He springs onto the seat, kicks the motor and with a roar the powerful machine curves away in the direction of the highway and disappears into the mist.

CHAPTER SIX

I’m still staring at the card when I hear a shout from the house. Darnley’s back. My heart leaps as he strides down the path to greet me. I race into his arms and fling mine round his neck. ‘How’s the car?’

‘Back tomorrow. Miss me?’ He breathes in my ear before finding my mouth. When he does, we kiss for so long I almost forget my stunning news. As he pulls away a little I beam up at him and his eyes glow.

He pulls me closer. ‘Needs a new door and a respray. When I found you gone I wondered where you were.’

‘You could have let Bullen take it.’ I give him a play-frown, but his smile fades.

‘I had business to see to.’

In San Francisco? His tone is calm but I sense trouble.

I decide not to pry. Instead I tell him my exciting news. ‘I think I’ve found your culprit. Chet Newson? He was here just now. He came here on a motorcycle. And he gave me this.’

Darnley frowns at the card. ‘Weird.’

‘Pretty damning, surely. Will you have him arrested?’

He’s still frowning when he looks up with a sigh. ‘He’s an employee, not a recruit, so you won’t see him in class. But he’s an illiterate. He’s a keen mechanic so Freda lets him work in the garage. But he’s not capable of writing this.’

I stare at him. ‘But the motorcycle yesterday – that must have been him.’

He’s still frowning as we turn and walk slowly up the beach. ‘Must it? You saw him when we got back to the complex. Freda said he’d been there all afternoon. And those engines were cold – we felt them all. If he used a bike it wasn’t one of those. And why should he take another? He’d no way of knowing we’d turn back and ask. Anyway, Freda said –’

‘Freda? She said what?’

My fury must show in my face. His instantly contracts. ‘For fuck’s sake, Ella, will you –’

He breaks off as the boom comes again, fainter now but still terrifying in the rapidly dissolving mist.

I feel my blood chill. ‘What is that? Chet thinks it’s a troll. That’s what scared him.’

Darnley eyes me, his eyebrow arched faintly. ‘And you a teacher? You’ll be telling me you believe in fairies next. There’s a cave just round the headland. You can’t see it from here. You can only get there by boat. At high tide the waves set up an echo.’

He glances at his watch. ‘It was high tide about twenty minutes ago. So by now the sound should be easing off a little.’

I frown. ‘But surely the tide’s up roughly twice a day round here? So why haven’t I heard it before?’

He shrugs. ‘How do I know? Maybe the conditions vary. Maybe it depends on the wind or the height of the waves.’ He nuzzles against me, his hand reaching down to fondle my butt. ‘Maybe you should go ask the cave troll.’

I laugh, feeling happy and safe now.

Much later I realise I forgot to tell him about the seaweed on my boat. But by then we’re so busy it hardly seems to matter any more …

Later Darnley assures me he’s had a word with Freda and Chet is grounded for a while. I’m glad to hear it, but I wish he left out the part about Freda.

* * *

Next morning, I tune into the news again as I bolt my cereal. The sex attacker’s still in the area, the day’s set to be unusually warm and sunny for the time of year and high tide’s expected around noon.

Darnley’s busy over at the complex today, and it’s my last day of freedom before I start work with my new students and meet some of my colleagues. I’ve made what preparations I can. Brushed up on some stuff about more obscure special needs. But today’s a lovely, sunny day and I have plans. I’m going to make the most of my new present and try out my beautiful little boat.

Plus I’m going to hunt some troll.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle in the distance. I stiffen for a second, then make myself relax. Motorcycles are everywhere around here – but not last night, thank goodness. We slept in peace.

When we eventually did sleep.

I sip my coffee and grin. When I woke up in the small hours Darnley’s arms and legs were wound tightly around me, his twitching ramrod jutting deliberately against my derrière. Sometimes when he does this I’m too sleepy to do much more than lean back to fondle him and guide him inside. But this time I spun round and slipped my leg underneath him, so he fitted nicely into the soft flesh of my thigh, and I wound my other leg over him, trapping him by the waist.

‘You want to fuck? Fuck me then – but there’s a price, Mr Neglectful Fiancé.’

His breath was hot on my neck. ‘Oh, yeah?’

I smirked into the darkness as I plotted my revenge. I was still smarting from yesterday’s humiliations in my new boat and later at the complex where I had to meet the people he wants me to teach, for Chrissakes.

‘I want to come three times,’ I murmured sweetly. ‘And unless I do I’ll wake you up early in the morning and you’ll arrange it then.’

He stiffened in my arms, his business centre glowing warm and hard between my legs as I moved against him, thrilling to the feel of his muscles flexing between my thighs, and the glow from his leaping manhood as it made an instant response.

‘And how do you suggest I manage that?’ He whispered low, his lips barely moving on my skin. ‘Any ideas?’

I giggle, warm and dozy in his arms as he stiffens again. ‘Nope,’ I murmur, sleepily. ‘I’ll leave all the technical stuff up to you.’

Whoa.

With a surge of power he pulled away from my loving grip, hauled off the quilt and switched on the lamp. In the low light he crouched over me, his eyes blazing, his long mouth etched in a cruel smile. A sardonic twitch at one corner warned me, too late, that he’d been lying in wait.

I’d unleashed something wild, possibly dangerous.

His tone was low and menacing. ‘Do I understand you’re dishing out orders, Miss Dean? In my own house? I should warn you, Mr so-called Neglectful Fiancé has pretty strong ideas about that. Get up on your hands and knees. Now.’

Scared now, and waking up fast, I hurried to obey. The power tool jutting between his legs was already dark, reddish purple, the head glossy and slick. It twitched as I looked longingly at it, mocking me now it was out of reach.

But that big, and that hot? He must be close.

But as he lovingly patted my limbs into position I saw I’d missed a trick – I was in for a spanking. And the gleam in his eyes hinted that we’d not done it like this in a while. He’d been waiting to pounce.

Pounce he did, with a ferocious slap on my rear that almost jerked me flat. His hand landed again and again. He knelt beside me, the heat of his tense, muscular thighs burning into my side as he swung his arm. The jolts jerked me hard into the pillows and muffled my cries.

Each blow fanned a hot flame of arousal deep my groin. Each flame tingled in my throbbing little centre, pulsing for release.

‘How many orgasms did milady order? Three, was it?’

His low growl almost made me come on the spot as the blows paused and he swooped down to fondle my glowing, burning rear with a cool, loving hand. ‘First one coming right up.’

I writhed as his fingers searched out my money-spot and made short work of my resistance. The glow that started at the first slap on my backside now erupted into a blast of heat as he pressed home, his rhythmic fingers working me to frenzy. I convulsed around his hand, panting with pleasure and release.

I had precious little time to savour it.

‘Sit up.’ The calm in his eyes warned me we were on Wolfe Time now. This could get serious.

‘Taste it, right at the end.’ His low murmur fell somewhere between a purr and a threat. Instant desire pulsed through me. I reached out to tease him with my lips, tasting earth and salt and Darnley in one heady mix. At the same moment he reached down to my still throbbing gap.

‘Open up. We’re not done. Take me fully.’

His fingers invaded again, gently probing all my tender, swollen places and sparking more flames as his intimate, persistent caresses found my money-spot. The angle was awkward but his low voice worked on me like a drug. He pressed harder, easing the pressure now and then to give my swollen folds time to breathe, then caressing again, one finger slipping deep into me and finding a place just inside that I’d no idea was so sensitive. He squeezed gently with his whole hand and I cried out as I convulsed again, another climax rippling through me like the sea.

I glanced up to see if he’d noticed but that, too, was a mistake.

He was keeping count.

His brief, triumphant grin warned me my order was being fulfilled to the letter and I faced yet another trial of pleasure.

‘Now get up on your hands and knees again. This time we’ll treat each other.’

He sounded amused as he edged me into position for my final treat. And now I felt the full force of his hunger as he lay below me, feasting on my still pulsing riches, while his gleaming, purplish beast jutted into my face for its quid pro quo.

I obliged eagerly, hungry for him, muscles rippling with need as his busy tongue searched out my still tingling places and teased me to my final surrender. And when we finally came it was at almost the same instant.

I hung over him, spent and content, feeling him soften slowly, just as I was pulsing with happy spasms, fading away into a warm glow, until he slid out from under me, gathered me in his arms and folded me up in sleep.

He wakes later and we start over. This time we take it slow, real slow, and my orgasms are gentle and frequent while he takes his time and loses himself in my pleasure.

As a final reward I have to lean over him and let him taste me, his tongue eager, his hunger firing yet another massive climax just as I thought I was sated and replete. To ensure my focus he barks out short, sharp commands as he does it, making me pose with my hands high over my head so he can enjoy the view.

And to my amazement it works, the harsh instructions slicing into my lazy arousal like cheesewire, making me ache, making me strain – and making me hotter than hot.

Wolfe Time just gets better.

* * *

The beach is a different place this morning, light and sunny. No seaweed draped on my boat today, but the tide is almost at its highest point. And right on cue I hear it, a low, juddering boom. The sound was terrifying in the fog. Now the sun’s out and the light dances off the rippling blue water of Darnley’s bay, but somehow the noise is just as spooky. It sounds like the hollow groan of some ailing giant.

I haul my boat down to the water, slip the painter over a rock, stow my things and a powerful torch safely out of reach of the splashing wavelets and start the engine.

It fires first time and I set off round the bay. I find it quickly, a low cave right on the waterline under the cliff overhang. It looks exciting and mysterious, the roof low over the rollers that surge inside. As I cut the engine to edge into it I hear the boom again, deafening in here.

It could be the waves. I edge along the rough rock wall and flash the torch. The waves are pounding at the far end, underneath a low ridge. As I look up a movement catches my eye and I feel my heart race. A seal? I’ve heard there are some around here, but I’ve yet to see one.

I flash the torch again but there’s nothing there. Did I imagine it? Was it just a reflection off the water? Patches of light dance all over the walls as sunlight streaming in at the mouth of the cave bounces off the wavelets I’m stirring up. It’s definitely creepy in here …

‘Hello? Anybody there?’ My voice echoes horribly all around me, drowned by another deep, hollow boom.

The cave troll, whatever or wherever he is, must be having a ball. But now I’m puzzled. The torch shows nothing but bare rock walls – no seals, no movement other than the constant waves and the light reflecting off them across the ragged seaweed fronds and the high, towering cleft that makes up the ceiling.

There’s nowhere to tie up so finally I head back round the headland to the beach to take stock. Soon it will be lunchtime, and Darnley will arrive. I may even persuade him to come out and hunt some troll with me.

As I nose the little boat into the small cove I’m careful to avoid the jagged rocks at the edges of the beach. When I finally hit the shingle I reach for my small bottle of water and drink deep, my mind still busy.

Why’s Chet so scared? Scared enough to go to all the trouble to ride over and tell me …

At that moment I glance up for the first time since I landed and I stand very still. My trainers dig deep into the shingle as the waves just fail to reach me, their reach lower with each thrust of the turning tide.

I’m staring at a pair of leather-clad legs. They’re propping up their owner as he leans back on a rock, his upper part just out of sight.

I’ve got company.

There’s no such thing as trolls …

I feel tiny hairs rise all over my back as the legs straighten up and their owner appears from behind his rock.

‘Hi, El. Long time no see.’

It’s worse than a troll. Far worse.

It’s Ryan Mitchell, my ex.

Weirdly, now also Freda’s ex. He screwed us both, in both senses, till we got wise to him. Then back in the summer he very nearly screwed my chances with Darnley.

He’s the last person I thought I’d see here.

He’s the last person I ever wanted to see again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘You don’t look too pleased to see me, El. Easy Street suits you, huh?’

I glare at him. ‘What do you want, Ryan? And be warned, there’s surveillance everywhere out here. If you try anything, Darnley will know. And so will about five hundred other people.’

I should know, I think bitterly.

Ryan puts his head on one side and tries his trademark shy smile. Out here in the sunshine, with his loose fair hair and his easy, weak mouth, it should give him a kind of shallow charm. But for me he long ago lost his appeal, and that was well before his crazy patent scam back in the summer nearly finished things between Darnley and me. He followed through with pap-shots of us at Camp Akela and a mystery photo from Lydia’s past. The family’s still reeling.

‘You must be crazy, coming here.’ I hold his gaze. Does he know how much trouble he caused last year? Darnley was already close to the brink. Ryan’s efforts might have failed but they sure stirred the mix.

To my fury he laughs. ‘Chill, hon. His cameras can’t see us here. We’re in the lee of the cliff. Even Darnley-hot-for-you-fucking-Wolfe can’t penetrate sheer rock. Look El, I need a big favour. This time it’s urgent.’

‘Get lost.’

‘Please, El. I’ve had a bad time lately. Been working in Vegas. It fell through.’

‘What? You double-crossed them too? That sounds dangerous.’

I’m only kidding, but now he looks scared. ‘It was. Still is. In fact I’m on the run.’

I frown. ‘So what do you want from me?’

‘I want to make a fresh start. All I need is one good product to get me back on track. But I really need your help. After this you’ll never see me again, I swear.’

I frown. ‘My help? Why me?’

‘Because you’re the only person I can ask. I’ve got a product ready to launch but I need to know if Wolfe’s already using it. We worked on it together for a while, before …’ He tails off.

‘Before you stole it and tried to pass it off as mine?’ I say sweetly.

‘Whatever.’ He licks his lips. ‘Anyway, my version’s still not out there so maybe he’s shelved it. That means I can use it.’

I glare at him. ‘Give me one good reason why I should trust you, after last summer.’

‘I’m desperate, El. That good enough?’ His face contracts.

I see his lip tremble and now I notice he looks thinner, unkempt. For a split second I feel sorry for him. ‘Go on,’ I say coldly.

‘He may be using it in private, like here, say. Testing it pre-launch. In that case I’ll drop it. If not, it’ll get me back on track. Be a whole lot quicker than starting from scratch and I can save a bunch of money on research and development. Please, El. All I need is for you to check a line of machine code for me so I can see if it’s a match. One line, that’s it. Not much to ask, is it?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Why me? Ask him.’

He snorts. ‘What? You crazy? One, he’d turn me down flat. Two, he’d launch it himself. You saw his fancy footwork back in the summer. His company launched an upgrade faster than I could tell you about the original.’

He outlines what he wants me to do, his eyes wild and staring, like he’s unhinged.

I listen patiently. I once shared space with him. If he’s fallen on hard times maybe he’s stressed, while I’m on Easy Street … I look at the trainwreck of my former boyfriend and feel a twinge of guilt. ‘So what’s in it for me?’

‘For you?’ His eyes gleam. ‘Plenty. You know those shots of Lydia they’re all so bugged about? I’ve got them. I’ll give you them. Just get me that sequence.’

I stiffen. All at once this is a very big deal. That contact strip, a vital link to Lydia’s murky past, is one of the Wolfe family’s biggest skeletons and buried in their darkest closet. And he’s used a shot from it already, back in the summer – as a coded threat. He means business.

‘And if I don’t?’

He scowls. ‘I need money real bad and I need it fast. Sorry to press you on this, El, but you’ve got a week, max. After that I’ll send the whole strip to the press. They’ll pay me plenty. Cash on the nail.’

His eyes narrow and now I glimpse the two-timing low-life I finally dumped still lurking below the superficial charm.

But he’s not done. He lowers his voice. ‘And know what? Just for jolly I’ll say they’re of you. And then lover-boy Darnley will have to come right out and deny it. And the only way he can deny it is to tell everybody who’s really in them.’

He grins. ‘Thought nobody else knew, huh? Freda lets rip when she gets carried away.’Specially in her sleep.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Wanna bet? Could be fun. Some people, the FBI, say, may even start asking questions. Like, why a set of pics of a former porn star now married to a hotshot lawyer took fifteen years to turn up. Like, how close she and photographer-turned-popcorn-millionaire “Korn” Kraik really were, if he spent so much time with the family. Like, how come “Korn” Kraik was found dead in her garage … you get me?’

My mouth goes dry as he recreates the Wolfe family’s worst-ever nightmare right here on the beach. I lick my lips. ‘OK. What do I have to do?’

* * *

When I walk into the house thirty minutes later, a full ten minutes after Ryan’s powerful motorcycle has roared off into the distance, Darnley walks in. If he passed Ryan on the approach road he says nothing.

Maybe he thought it was a delivery.

Maybe he missed him.

His look burns into me, making my pulses race. Or maybe – I’m simply feeling guilty.

‘Have a good time out there on the high seas? Or is that bright smile simply a natural response to my charms?’

I’m so pleased to see him I wind my arms round his neck and kiss him deep. ‘OK. Your charms. Every time.’

His busy hands are making short work of my skinny jeans and my slim, damp jacket, now wet with sea spray and early-morning mist.

‘Your pretty boat’s already losing its appeal? After all the trouble I took to get it for you? What were you doing all morning?’

I take a deep breath, summon up a bright smile and for the first time ever I start to tell him lies.

If he knows Ryan’s out there he’ll freak. If he freaks, those pictures will be all over the papers in a dozen countries and all the Wolfe family secrets will be out.

All Ryan wants is the chance to go straight.

If I help him, he may even make a go of it.

If he succeeds, we’ll be free of him for good and the Wolfe family can finally bury one of its best-kept secrets – plus I’ll have done somebody a good turn.

Is that so bad? One line, that’s it …

To my shame, the lies bubble up like I’ve lied for years. ‘I was hunting troll. I heard that noise again. I tried to track it down, but …’

But Darnley’s not even listening. He’s peeling away my clothes, loosening fastenings, mussing my hair. ‘You talk too much. And you smell of seaweed. You need a shower. Now.’

The heat in his eyes warns me the term ‘shower’ is used loosely here, and only for the benefit of any servants listening in. His dark glint hints at thrilling possibilities.

In our rooms my clothes are swiftly removed and my hair scraped back into one large, lank bunch. He’s right, I do smell of seaweed. He proceeds to haul me towards the bathroom, making me yell every time he yanks.

‘Whoa. What’s with the caveman thing?’

‘You like that?’ His slow grin hints he does, for sure. ‘I’m making you shout and watching your breasts bounce while you do it. Very fetching. Now get in the shower while I think of some ways to spritz up your bathtime.’

He makes me stand in the tub with my hands behind my head while he turns the faucets on full and tips in some lotions.

‘Now bend over. We have to attend to this –’ he fondles my derrière with a low growl ‘– before we attend to these.’ His hands furl around my breasts, squeezing my nipples between his fingers and thumbs and pulling gently. His gaze darkens as he sees me wince, partly in fun, because the flare of heat that surges through my belly warns me I’m already fiercely aroused, and likely to grow a lot hotter before he’s finished – and partly on purpose, to make me react.

‘Know what? I think we’ll try something new. But you’ve got to keep very quiet and very still while we do it. How about it?’

Now what? His dark look gives me no clues. His roving hand, lingering on my tender places, lightly touching my stiffening nipples, and making its way slowly down to my clenched apex, is doing all the talking. What it’s telling me is that this will be exciting, thrilling and possibly painful.

‘What are you going to do?’ Heat flares as I lean into his touch, firmer now, his fingers forcing their way between my tightly clenched, quivering thighs and flexing me open. The warm spray quickly follows, the stream teasing my soft crevices while his fingers slip into me, slippery with gel, the scent working my senses like wine.

As he reaches my money-spot his lips find mine and our mouths blend in a light, delicate contact of lips and tongue-tips that tingles all through me as he starts deliberately to tease me to satisfaction, pressing and circling without mercy, his cruel grin warning me that modesty is off the table and flinching away forbidden.

‘I’m not washing you until you come.’ His low murmur echoes around me and all at once power crackles between us. ‘And then we’ll have to do it all over again, lower down. A little more thoroughly.’

‘You’ll get wet,’ I whisper.

He eyes me sternly. ‘Will I? In that case you’ll get punished.’

Yikes. My eyes widen. ‘That’s unfair. I want to put my arms round your neck. I want to feel you … dammit, Darnley. You know what I want.’

He smiles again, his hand working harder, his lips still touching mine in soft, tiny brushes. ‘I do know. I know all about what you want to do. Put your hands behind your back. Keep your eyes fixed on mine.’

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