The Ravenscar Dynasty (20 page)

‘
Ah,
c'est
pas possible!
' she cried, reverting to her native French.

‘Oh but it
is
possible!' Edward responded. He moved forward, was suddenly standing in front of her, looking down at her.

Staring up at him, Margot Grant saw the handsomeness of this man, became aware of his raw sex appeal, and she took a step back, glaring. But she was silent for once, unnerved by him, taken aback by his charismatic presence. He overwhelmed her.

Edward continued. ‘I will not get out, and don't you ever dare suggest that to me again. You are the one who is a trespasser here, not I,
madame
.'

At a loss for words, feeling unexpectedly humiliated, Margot Grant swung around and left Edward's office without another word.

Once the door had closed behind her, Alfredo grinned at Edward and said, ‘That was telling
her
where to get
off
.'

‘She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen,' Edward said almost wonderingly.

‘But she's also a bitch, and evil,' Alfredo pointed out in a low, almost inaudible voice. ‘Don't ever forget that. Not ever.'

Neville Watkins met Edward and Oliveri for lunch at Rules later that morning. The wonderful restaurant just off the Strand was a favourite of his, and after Edward's urgent telephone call he had made a reservation for one o'clock and been accommodated immediately.

The three men sat at the best table in the house, studying their menus as they waited for Amos Finnister to arrive.

They had just selected their food and were relaxing with apéritifs when Amos Finnister hurried in.

‘So sorry to be late,' he explained, ‘but I got caught up with—some of my operatives.' As he took a seat opposite Neville, he added, with a small, satisfied smile, ‘I have set things in motion, sir. Regarding those…er…er records.'

Neville smiled warmly, holding Amos Finnister in great esteem. ‘I have no qualms about you. I know how dedicated and efficient you are. Now, have a look at the menu and let's order lunch. In the meantime, would you like to join us in a glass of sherry?'

‘Thank you kindly, Mr Watkins, but I won't, if you don't mind. I've got my hands full today. And I'd better be sober.'

Laughing, Neville nodded. ‘As you wish, Amos, although I don't think one drink would do any harm.'

Again Amos declined, picked up the menu and studied it. Within a few minutes the four men had ordered, and leaning closer to each other, their heads together, Neville said, ‘Now that we're all here, let's have it, Ned, my boy. What is your important news, other than the discovery of the notebooks and your father's diary, which you informed me about already.'

Keeping his voice low, Edward told Neville and Amos about the discovery of the numbers on the map, and what he believed they meant. He also confided that he thought it was Neville's father Rick who had been the person Richard referred to as compadre.

‘To tell you the truth, my boy, that had occurred to me, too. Who else would your father trust so implicitly but my father? Now, to the discovery of the numbers on the map, and the meaning of them, let me ask you something. Why did your father keep listing those particular mines in the notebook? Not just because they were
mines
, surely? There's another reason.'

‘I think there is probably something wrong with the mines,' Alfredo volunteered. ‘What this is I can't hazard a guess. But there's something amiss, I feel positive. Mr Richard was troubled when he was in Carrara, and as I've told you before, the reason
he
came to Italy instead of Aubrey Masters was because he wanted to get to the bottom of the problem there. Which is the dwindling of the marble in the quarries we own. As for the mines in those other countries, maybe they have the same problem.'

‘I doubt it,' Neville answered. ‘I think my uncle would have told my father, and certainly my father would have mentioned it to me. It's something else.'

‘But what?' Edward asked worriedly. ‘What
could
it be?'

‘I don't know.' Neville shook his head. ‘You and Oliveri here have to keep your eyes and ears open. You mustn't miss…a trick.'

‘I understand,' Edward replied, and then laughed. ‘I had quite a run-in with Margot Grant this morning.'

‘He was superb, really told her off,' Alfredo said proudly.

‘Did you?' Neville raised a brow, his pale blue eyes twinkling.

‘I told her she had better go and read the company
rules. That she would soon discover she wasn't even allowed at Deravenels. Well, that's an exaggeration. But she was somewhat perturbed. She left without another word.'

‘But I'm afraid we haven't heard the last from her,' Neville muttered. ‘Not by a long shot.'

At the end of the afternoon Edward went to see Lily Overton. He had missed her, and he knew he must quickly make amends for neglecting her the previous week.

It was Mrs Dane, the housekeeper, who opened the door to Edward, and her face lit up. ‘Why Mr Deravenel, good afternoon, sir. How nice to see you.'

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Dane,' he answered politely, and smiled at her warmly.

Her immediate response to his undeniable charm was to open the door wider for him. ‘Please come in, Mr Deravenel. I'll tell Mrs Overton you're here.' Closing the door, Mrs Dane continued, ‘She hasn't been too well today. Please, do come into the drawing room.'

‘Is she ill?' Edward asked, sounding concerned as he followed the housekeeper, entered the drawing room which faced the frosty-looking garden. ‘I hope it's nothing serious.'

‘Oh no, sir, I think she's just a bit under the weather.' Mrs Dane offered him a small smile, as she hurried away, adding, ‘Please excuse me for a moment, sir.'

Edward wandered around the room, feeling slightly on edge, nervous, wondering what could possibly be
wrong with his darling Lily. As he thought of her, of her femininity, her blonde beauty, her loveliness and warmth, her kindness to him over the year, he realized something vital about her. Lily's beauty was soft, genuine, angelic; Margot Grant's beauty was dramatic but cold, hard. She was a hard-boiled woman, a woman filled with ambition, a woman on the make…

‘Mrs Overton would like you to join her in the upstairs parlour,' Mrs Dane was saying from the doorway, interrupting his train of thoughts.

‘Thank you,' he answered and hurried out. At the bottom of the staircase he turned to the housekeeper. ‘I'll find my own way up, thank you so much, Mrs Dane.'

She nodded and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Realizing that he still wore his overcoat, that the flustered housekeeper had forgotten to take it from him, he slipped it off and laid it on a nearby chair.

He was halfway up the staircase when a vision in floating white chiffon and lace appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘
Edward. Darling!
' Lily exclaimed. ‘It's lovely to see you here.'

At the top of the stairs he took her in his arms, and brought her close, kissed her cheek, her neck, her hair. ‘I've missed you so much, my darling,' he said softly, then held her away and looked deeply into her face. ‘What's wrong? Mrs Dane said you're not feeling well.'

Lily touched his cheek lovingly. ‘It's nothing. I felt tired today, Ned, a little weary.' She laughed lightly. ‘I suppose I'm getting old.'

‘
Old. You? Never
.' Putting his arm around her, he walked her into the parlour. It was as cosy as ever, with
a fire burning in the grate; the gas lamps had been lighted, created a roseate glow in the comfortable room, and vases of fresh flowers gave it a feeling of spring.

‘I must apologize, Lily,' Edward said, sitting down on the sofa as he usually did. ‘I ought to have been in touch last week, but I was swimming in deep waters, so to speak.'

‘It's all right,' Lily murmured. ‘I wondered what had happened to you, and then this weekend Vicky told me how busy you had been with your work.' She gave him a pretty, dimpled smile, and finished, ‘So you're forgiven.'

‘I hope to God I am. Because I couldn't do without you, Lil, I really couldn't. You certainly make me feel happier, at ease and more relaxed when I'm with you.' He paused and looked her up and down. ‘Amongst the many other
things
you make me feel, you temptress,' he added suggestively, his brilliant sapphire eyes growing most seductive.

Lily was silent for a moment. She pulled her lacey white peignoir around her body, and smoothed a hand over her hair. ‘I'm sorry I'm not properly dressed. You see, I was in bed when you arrived.'

‘Why don't we go back there, my love? What better place for us to be.' As he spoke he rose, strode across the room, bent over her. Tilting her face to his, he kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Come back to bed, Lily. This time with me. Let me love you, sweetheart, let me pleasure you. We won't do anything too…hectic since you're not feeling well. Actually, you don't have to do anything at all.
I
will make love to
you
.'

‘Oh Ned, oh Ned, there's no one like you,' she
breathed softly, smiling up at him, all of her anxiety about him instantly blown away.

‘I hope not…at least, not in
your
heart. Come on, my pet.' He pulled her gently to her feet and led her out of the room, across the landing and into her bedroom. Within moments he had her resting on the bed, and he was kissing her gently. He stopped abruptly, went back to the door and locked it, then he took off his coat and waistcoat, threw them on a chair, unknotted his tie, walked back to the bed. He began to unbutton his shirt as he stood looking down at her, smiling. Once it was unbuttoned, he reached for Lily, brought her to her feet, held her close. ‘You'll never know how much I missed you last week,' he murmured, and untied the white silk ribbon at her throat. Slipping the peignoir off to reveal her smooth, creamy shoulders, he went on, ‘And I know that you missed me, didn't you?'

Their eyes met. Deep green impaled brilliant blue and locked. Neither looked away. At last he bent into her, kissed her, let his tongue slide into her mouth…so warm, so soft. The taste of her thrilled him. He moved the nightgown, gave it a slight pull, and it fell to her feet; he took off his shirt and brought her to him, closed his arms around her. ‘Remember what I said, nothing hectic,' he whispered against her tumbling gold hair.

‘But I want it to be wonderfully hectic,' she whispered back, and began to unbutton his trousers, fumbling as she did so.

‘I'll do it,' he muttered, and she went back to the bed and lay down on her side, watching him finish undressing. As he walked towards her she was momentarily startled. How had he become so aroused, so
quickly? She shivered slightly. He seemed so potent, so virile, more than ever at this moment.

One of the things Lily loved about Ned was that he did not rush at her, handle her roughly, or press his cause. He was always gentle, tender, loving, giving her pleasure before he took his own. And this afternoon was no different; he stroked her, touched her, kissed her breasts, brought her nipples to tender points. His hands trailed over her with tenderness, touched her neck, her hair, her stomach, slid between her thighs, encountered her most feminine part, brought her sighing to pleasure until she was calling his name. Entering her, he pressed his hands under her back and lifted her towards him, and their movements together were rhythmic: as always they were in tune with each other, as one. And they soared together, carried upward by their joy in each other, and their ecstasy. And later when he was spent, when he rested against her, sighing and stroking her face, he said quietly, in a low, very serious voice, ‘Only you, Lily, only you.'