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No, it was her own miscalculation that worried her… her own failure to correctly judge the situation, guess what his reactions would be. It showed a grave lack of judgement—a lack of judgement she could not afford. And only now did she admit that she had chosen Jake Fitton as much because he was such a challenge as because of his suitability for the role. It was that small piece of vanity that had been her downfall, and now she was furious with herself too for putting her whole plan into jeopardy simply for the unnecessary and trivial pleasure of putting Jake down, of forcing him to acknowledge her superiority.
His thinly veiled contempt of her had rankled after all… and that was a weakness she could not afford to have. After all, before she was finished, there would be people who felt far more than mere contempt for her…
She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, ruthlessly regimenting her thoughts, forcing herself to admit her own stupidity…
The train rattled into Innsbruck.
She was spending the night in a hotel before flying out in the morning. A porter caught sight of her and hurried towards her beaming, only to grimace when he saw she had no luggage. She walked out into the sharp winter sunlight, looking for a taxi. A car drew up alongside her, the rear door opened and from inside it Jake Fitton said quietly, ‘Two million pounds.’
She wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was too late, that the deal was off. The words trembled on her tongue, but she fought them back. She couldn’t afford to give in to emotionalism now.
Instead she smiled and said coldly, ‘You put a high price on yourself, Jake. I hope you’re worth it.’ And then she slid into the car beside him, closing the door and settling herself into her seat while he instructed the driver.
He was taking her back to his chalet, she realised, listening. Two million pounds. Well, she could afford it—easily! She closed her eyes again; her heart was thumping frantically. Until this moment she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself how important it was that it was this man who completed the final hurdle for her… that his acceptance of her terms had a symbolism that was very important to her. Far more important than the man himself.
On the drive back to Gstaad he addressed no comment to her, and she was skilled enough to make none of her own.
She had been brought up by a father whose realisation, eight years after her birth, that she would be the only child he could ever have had led him to pour into her all that he himself had learned in his determination to make her a fitting heir to his name and possessions. Car journeys, for her, were always a reminder of those times when she had sat beside him in the back of the Bentleys he had always chosen over the more status-laden Rolls-Royces, listening while he talked, answering while he questioned. So Jake’s silence was an added burden.
She wondered if such silence was habitual to him, or if he was deliberately trying to unnerve her. Apart from that afternoon in his chalet, she had never really been alone with him, having always encountered him only in Annie’s company.
On those occasions he and Annie had talked as old friends did. There had been silences, generated when he’d become aware that she was there, a silent third, an interloper on their intimacy, and then it had been Annie who had talked, sensing the atmosphere between them and trying her best to disperse it.
The road twisted and turned, offering superb views that were not designed for the nauseous or nervy. In Gstaad they had to stop to allow returning skiers to cross the road. Silver recognised Guido Bartoli among them. Even now it was not too late to change her mind.
The skiers cleared, and the car pulled away smoothly.
‘Second thoughts?’ Jake said quietly beside her, focusing on her as though he could see her.
She had known from the moment she met him that he was dangerous, ruthless—a merciless foe—but such enmity demanded a degree of involvement, of intimacy even, that would not enter their relationship.
Allowing only polite coldness to inform her face and voice, she said quietly, ‘Two million pounds is a lot of money.’
He smiled at her, a curling, taunting smile that said what they both knew: that her second thoughts had nothing to do with money.
As she looked away from him, Silver wondered why, when, since he was blind, she was completely free to look at him, to study and assess him, she found it so difficult to do so.
Where did it come from, this innate distaste for breaching his privacy even when she knew he would be unaware of it?
It was true that he was conspicuously formidable, hardened by life into something almost indestructible. You could see that in him by just looking at him, by seeing how he reacted to his blindness, how he accepted it and adapted to it, daring it to imprison him.
They had reached the chalet. Silver fumbled for the door-handle and got out, waiting for Jake to join her. He stopped to say something to the driver and then walked across to her, finding her unerringly.
He unlocked the chalet door, telling her calmly, ‘Just as a matter of interest, I’ve had the locks changed.’
Silver followed him inside. The stove was burning warmly, and from the kitchen came the mouth-watering aroma of something cooking.
‘I thought it might be as well if you moved in here for the duration of your… tuition. I’ve allocated you a bedroom—second on the left. It doesn’t have a private bathroom, but there is a shower. Since I’m sure neither of us wants to draw this out any longer than necessary, I suggest we make a start this evening. Since you specifically mentioned that seduction was your prime objective, I have to assume that where the non-sexual aspects of such a role are concerned you require no enlightenment.’
He paused, as calmly polite as a lecturer addressing a student, which of course she was.
Silver inclined her own head and replied evenly, ‘Your assumptions are correct.’
‘Mm… you sound confident, but a confident woman wouldn’t have worn that perfume you were wearing the other day. It’s too strong… too obvious. Unless, of course, your prey has a particular penchant for it.’
Silver almost gasped at his astuteness. He was so close to having guessed exactly why she had chosen that particular perfume. The perfumer who had mixed it for her had disapproved.
‘Tuberoses are not really for you,’ he had told her critically, but she had ignored his advice, insisting that he made the strong, heavy scent.
‘I’m sure I don’t need to say this, and you must forgive me for being crass, but since the object of this exercise is not to seduce me I’d prefer you not to use it…’
It took her several seconds to assimilate the subtle insult. When she did she was tempted to retaliate, but she forced herself to say mildly, ‘It costs a thousand pounds an ounce. In view of your extortionate fee, every little I can save is a bonus.’
He didn’t smile, but simply gave her a level, assessing look which she withstood only by reminding herself that he could not actually see her.
‘Next point—clothes. Since you are ultimately to play the seductress, I have no doubt you will probably want to dress for the part. Again, I would caution you against overstatement. I personally find nothing particularly erotic about a woman who has obviously dressed herself with sex in mind. However, the discovery that a woman dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, with her face free of make-up, is wearing silk satin underwear… now, that…’
Silver was tempted to lie and say that she was allergic to silk, but controlled the childish impulse, saying curtly, ‘I’d like to go up to my room and unpack.’
He shrugged, looking at her impatiently.
‘In a moment. There are still some points we have to discuss. The first, and I should have thought one of the most important as far as you are concerned, is that I have a clean bill of health, at least as far as any sexually transmitted diseases are concerned.
‘The second is that I have assumed that you will have taken the necessary precautions to ensure that no pregnancy occurs.’
‘I have,’ agreed Silver coldly.
‘Good. Now, since I’m hungry, we may as well start the first lesson now. You can leave your unpacking until later. Right now, try imagining that you’ve invited your prospective victim round for a meal. During the course of this meal you intend to make him sexually aware of you and also of your availability. How would you accomplish that?’
Silver felt her heart thumping just a little bit too fast. This was what she wanted, but now that it was here… She tried to blank out of her mind Jake as a person and instead use her imagination to create the scenario he had just described.
She closed her eyes, summoning concentration, asking him a little huskily, ‘Two questions…’
She opened her eyes. He seemed to be watching her.
‘One: how long have we known one another? Two: what is our existing relationship? Do we work together, or…?’
‘We’ve met twice before,’ he told her immediately. ‘The first time a mutual acquaintance invited us both to dinner. The second was at a cocktail party when you discovered that my existing lover has gone to spend a fortnight with her parents. This invitation for dinner was given on the pretext of your having been asked to keep an eye on me, so to speak, by my lover.’
Silver gave him a sharp look spiked with dislike.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her evenly. ‘Don’t you like the character I’ve cast for you?’
She digested his silky-voiced comments in silence. Annie had obviously told him a great deal. Too much. ‘I have no feelings at all about her. I was just wondering why you accepted the invitation.’ She wasn’t going to let him guess at her disquiet. He was trained to play on people’s weaknesses. For all she knew, he might simply be assessing… guessing… He smiled at her then, a mocking, warning smile that made her muscles lock.
‘Ah, now that’s for me to know and you to gamble on, isn’t it?’ he told her softly. ‘After all, surely that’s what this is all about—knowing your victim’s vulnerabilities? You’ve got five minutes and then we begin. I’ve arrived at your front door and you’ve let me in.’
She closed her eyes, blotting out both the man and her surroundings; the latter was easy to do, the former surprisingly difficult. She tried to superimpose on his granite-tough features another man’s smoother, younger face and to hold on to that vision. She waited until she had only seconds left before saying softly, ‘Jake… you’ve made it. Marvellous,’ and wondered if he’d notice her subtle and deliberate betrayal of the fact that she had doubted that he would arrive. ‘Come on in and make yourself at home. Dinner won’t be long… It won’t be anything very special either, I’m afraid.’ She mimicked the warm gurgle of laughter she had once heard an acquaintance use to devastating effect. She had a good ear and was adept at reproducing intonations and nuances. ‘I was running late at the gallery and only had time to rush into my local delicatessen on the way back, but then I did warn you that I was no cook, didn’t I?’
She gave a slow, warm smile that promised that she was far more accomplished in other areas, which she hoped was carried through into her voice, because Jake could certainly never see the smile.
‘What should I do with my coat?’
The interruption was unexpected, as was the way Jake feigned uncertainty, looking back over his shoulder as though searching for a hallway.
‘Here… let me take it.’
Silver knew she was several seconds late in picking up her cue. She also had an odd reluctance to approach him and take the jacket he was slipping off.
‘It’s freezing outside, isn’t it?’ she improvised wildly, thrown off-key by his unexpected participation. And then, remembering something a friend had once told her, she added quickly, ‘I’ve lit a fire in the sitting-room. Come on through.’
She still hadn’t taken his coat and he checked her abruptly, saying briefly, ‘Adequate, Silver, but not good. The fire was good, but you failed to make good use of the opportunity I gave you when I asked what I should do with my coat, and the suggestion that something more exciting than dinner might be on offer was very precious… some might even say tacky. We’ll go through it again, only this time we’ll reverse the roles. Still, at least you didn’t pretend I’d arrived early and caught you in the middle of getting changed,’ he said drily. ‘I suppose that’s something. Now listen…’
Speaking as though he were she, he turned to her, matching the smile she had used.
‘First, before he even sets a foot inside the door, you’ll have prepared a mental dossier on him: what he likes and doesn’t like, his weaknesses and strong points. Let’s say this particular victim is an up-and-coming producer of television documentaries with a slant towards the political. You just happen to number among your acquaintances a politician you know he’s been keen to meet. And if you don’t, I’m sure you’ll be able to find a way to make sure that you do.
‘You open the door. He’s on edge, not sure what the evening’s going to hold. He’s aware of the signals you’ve been sending out, enjoyed the prelude to flirtation, but is now getting cold feet, wondering if the evening is going to end up heavy and problematical.
‘You surprise him, get him off guard. You pull a pretty regretful face and tell him you’ve been trapped into joining some old friends for dinner, but that he’s included in the invitation. He breathes relief. The pair of you leave for the kind of venue you know is going to impress him. Your tame politician is already there. You introduce them and discreetly pretend not to notice how impressed he is.
‘At a suitable opportunity, whenever the politician’s gone to the bar or whatever, you tell the victim how marvellous he’s being, helping you to entertain your father’s brother’s cousin’s dull friend. If you’ve done your homework well, you can even get the politician to dangle some tempting bait in front of him, by praising his work and suggesting that the two of them get together.
‘Already your victim is disarmed. He’s totally forgotten that he wasn’t sure he wanted to have dinner with you.
‘As soon as dinner’s over, you start getting a little on edge. You look at your watch… make it subtly obvious that your attention isn’t really on your victim. He’ll feel the withdrawal symptoms like a blast of Arctic air. You announce hesitantly that you really must leave. On the way home he asks you if something’s wrong. You hesitate and then admit to man-trouble. You’re expecting a phone-call or whatever. He then starts thinking he’s misunderstood the entire situation and suffers the consequent challenge to his ego. When you invite him in for a drink, he’s only too eager to accept and offer you his “brotherly” advice—–’
‘Oh, come on,’ Silver interrupted him acidly. ‘That wouldn’t deceive a five-year-old. It’s so obvious.’
‘Never underestimate the efficacy of the obvious. That is why it is obvious, after all.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Silver told him sharply. ‘I haven’t come here to play these kind of games. What I require you to instruct me in is sexual technique. That’s all.’
‘If that’s the way you want it.’
He shrugged and seemed completely unaffected by her outburst. Silver, on the other hand, was flushed and angry. Did he think her such a fool that she hadn’t got the intelligence or the ability to be able to coax her prey into her carefully baited trap? She had seen others do it often enough.
‘I’m hungry,’ she said, aggressively now. ‘Do I get any dinner, or is that an optional extra?’
There was a small silence. She could feel him assessing her, and she cursed herself for so nearly losing her temper. He was probing her for her weaknesses as deliberately and cold-bloodedly as she had searched for his.
‘Board and lodging is inclusive,’ he told her unemotionally.
Over dinner neither of them spoke, Silver because she was still too angry, as much with herself as with him. His silence, she suspected, had a more dangerous and manipulative motive.
She didn’t offer to help afterwards as he loaded the dishwasher and deftly restored the kitchen to pristine order.
He hadn’t offered her anything to drink during dinner, or had anything himself, and he didn’t offer her anything now, saying briskly as he walked back into the room, ‘Well, we’d better make a start, hadn’t we? We’ll take all the opening stages as accomplished. Your victim has reached the stage where he’s ready to contemplate wanting to make love to you.’
She was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the fire, and as he came towards her he told her drily, ‘In order to facilitate matters, it might be advisable if I show you what’s possible, preferable—and desirable.’
He sat down on the sofa and added, ‘Come and sit here,’ and when she would have sat next to him said firmly, ‘No, not there… Here on the floor.’
Silver shot him a suspicious glance, but his face was perfectly grave and composed, as controlled and emotionless as though he were quite simply a lecturer instructing a rather dull pupil.
As she knelt ungraciously at his feet, he told her wryly, ‘In the harems of the East, the concubines used to be taught to wriggle snakelike upwards from the foot of the bed, adoring their master’s person with their hands and lips as they went.’
Silver was glad that he couldn’t see the betraying wave of colour that burned her skin. With great difficulty she managed to stop her colour from fluctuating.
‘Not that I’m suggesting you do the same thing, at least not at this stage, but it’s a point worth remembering. Now, sit in front of me, resting your back against my legs.’
Silver did as he instructed, sitting ramrod-straight as she stared into the fire.
‘Now, when I speak to you, instead of turning round to look at me you can tilt your head back so that, were I able to see, what I would see would be the undoubtedly tempting line of your exposed throat… your breasts… very temptingly within easy reach of my hand… thus.’
She wasn’t prepared for the brief, clinical touch of his hand, and her body flinched at the contact until she willed it into acquiescence. ‘I could, if I wished, lean down to kiss you, or, more probably, reach down to pull you up over my body, like so.’
His hands fitted easily beneath her armpits, and although she was so tall he turned her easily, so that for a brief, startling moment of time her face was pressed against his hard thigh. Then he was drawing her upwards, as though she were as fluid as a piece of silk.
‘At this stage if I were physically aroused you would be aware of it, and if I weren’t… Well, there are several options open to you, depending upon how much time you have and how far the relationship has already advanced.
‘If it’s still in its early stages and you think I’m drawing you up to kiss you, like so…’
He lifted her easily so that she was virtually draped across his body. One hand in the hollow of her back pressed her torso against his; the other found her nape and locked smoothly in her hair, his mouth cold and clinical on hers.
She wondered a little unkindly if he closed his eyes when he kissed her or if his perpetual darkness rendered it unnecessary.
Her own had closed instinctively, more to blot out the sight of him than to focus her awareness on his mouth, which was just as well, she acknowledged grimly, because there was certainly nothing provocative or erotic in its distant possession.
His eyes weren’t closed, but his lids were lowered so that his dark irises glittered between them. She lay totally unmoving against him, not wanting to remember how she had felt when Charles had kissed her—how joyously, frantically grateful she had been that he loved and wanted her; how eager to respond… to please…
‘You’re not concentrating.’ The harsh criticism jolted her out of her memories, her body tensing in dislike before she could stop it.
‘You’re supposed to be learning how to arouse a man to desire, not wallowing in self-pitiful memories,’ he derided her.
She stifled her rage that he should so easily have followed her thoughts.
‘Now listen and remember. You’ve gained an advantage—physical contact. Now you’ve got to make the most of it… turn a tentative embrace into an erotic enticement.’ When she said nothing, he muttered under his breath, ‘My God, what the hell happened to you when they were handing out good old-fashioned feminine instinct?’
She could have told him that she had never been encouraged to develop her femininity; that her father had treated her as the son he could never have; that plain women, ugly women, as she had heard herself described, were not given many opportunities to develop such instincts. But instead she folded her mouth into a hard line and reminded him coldly, ‘If I had those kinds of instincts, I wouldn’t need you to teach me, would I?’
He was still holding her, but there was nothing intimate about it, apart from the proximity of their bodies, his own all hard, solid, unyielding muscle, unprepared to accommodate her more vulnerable softness, so that leaning into him and being held there hurt her breasts. She tried to ease her discomfort by moving away, but the weight of his hand on her back wouldn’t allow her to put any space between them, and all she could do was move slightly sideways.
‘Let go of me,’ she complained. ‘I can hardly breathe.’
She felt his chest expand as he suddenly took a deep breath and she winced at the uncomfortable pressure against her breasts.
‘You can feel that, can you?’ he asked her.
