A Moment in Time (43 page)

He nodded. "Slide all the way down onto the
floor and keep your head down. We don't want the video cams to pick
you up."

Arielle took a quick swig of vodka from her
flask, then slid to the floor of the Range Rover. She tucked her
head down but managed to take a couple of drags off her cigarillo
before handing it to Santo to put out.

"It'll only be for a few minutes," he said,
reaching over and stroking the top of her head. "Just don't get up
until I give the clear."

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm fine."

The road leading to the estate appeared
ahead, and Santo flipped the turn signal and began to brake. He
made the turn, and the gates to Stonelair loomed in front of him.
He pulled over to the security post and punched in the code. The
video cams were like evil eyes tonight, but he didn't care. They
couldn't pick up Arielle.

The gates opened, and he drove swiftly past
them. "We're in," he said to Arielle, "but don't get up yet. Not
until we're in my garage."

Arielle shifted on the floor. "Not soon
enough," she complained. "This is really cramping my style." "I'll
work all the knots out later," he said. "I bet you will," she
replied, "and I can hardly wait."

Chapter Thirty

Teddy sped along the country road in his
silver Jaguar, the cocaine still racing through his bloodstream. He
didn't dread his talk with Marguerite. Not now. He was on a high
and felt like he could conquer the world.
What's a little chat
with Marguerite?
he thought.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch
. He'd
always been able to sweet-talk her, hadn't he?

Tonight would be no different. He and
Marguerite were two of a kind. She'd always been crazy about him,
so determined for him to be her son-in-law.
Maybe
, he
thought,
maybe I'll be a whole lot more to her than that. After
all, she's still a damn good-looking woman, and I'm just her kind
of man
.

Yeah
, he thought, turning onto the
road that led up to her house,
I bet I can sweet-talk her
straight into bed and right out of trouble.

Marguerite sat at the head of the
magnificently laid dinner table, with Jamie at the foot and Teddy
to her right. The food was simple, but beautifully served and
delicious. There was a fresh salad of mixed greens, poached salmon
with a dill and lemon sauce, tiny new potatoes, and haricots vert.
Teddy, however, had picked at his food, moving it around his plate,
as if by doing so it would disappear, and he would seem to have
eaten.

The coke had suppressed his appetite, and the
surprising presence of Jamie had done nothing to stimulate it.

"I'm so glad you came by, Teddy dear,"
Marguerite said. "We do need to talk."

Teddy nodded.

Jamie looked over at Teddy. "We've asked that
our money be returned to Dockering Wainwright, you know."

"Yes, I know," Teddy said, "and that's why I
wanted to talk to Marguerite. I really think you're jumping the
gun. Both of you. If only you'll give me a chance to—"

"You've had your chance," Jamie said.

"Yes, indeed," Marguerite added. She pointed
a bejeweled finger at Teddy. "I want to know what's happened to my
money."

"Marguerite, I can explain if—" Teddy
began.

"You do that, Teddy," Jamie snapped. "Explain
what's happened to Marguerite's money. And mine. And make it
quick."

Teddy had forsaken any pretense of eating and
put down his fork and knife. He sat in his chair uneasily, crashing
from the cocaine high, his stomach churning, sweat beading his face
and neck, his world crumbling down around him. He thought he might
be sick.

"Tell us, Teddy," Jamie insisted. "Tell us
this minute. If you can explain, then explain away. We're
waiting."

Teddy feigned a smile, sickly though it was,
and tried to rally. His world as he knew it depended on convincing
these people that they would not only get their money back but make
more. Greed was the key, he knew. "As you know, there have been
some market fluctuations recently," he began, "especially in the
high-tech sector—"

"Yes, yes," Jamie said angrily. "Every idiot
who watches CNBC knows that."

"Well, because of these fluctuations," Teddy
said, deciding to give them a grain of truth, hoping that would
appease them, "I've had to move money from one account to another.
You understand, just to cover temporary losses. And—"

"Where is our money!" Jamie thundered. "Yes,"
Marguerite chimed in, "quit this ridiculous prevaricating, Teddy.
Tell us what we want to know."

Teddy glared at them both, angry now. He
wasn't accustomed to being yelled at. Not by anyone. "I don't have
to sit here and take this," he said between gritted teeth. "Who do
you think you are—"

There was the rustle of movement behind him,
and Teddy saw Marguerite and Jamie look in that direction. He
turned, following their eyes, and saw Dockering Wainwright standing
directly in back of him with policemen at his side.

"Teddy," Dock said, "I'm sorry to do this,
but you might as well leave with these gentlemen peacefully. Save
yourself any embarrassment in front of Marguerite and Jamie."

"What the hell are you talking about,
Dock?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Dock
said.

"We've had a long chat with Lydia Parsons,
your secretary. Former secretary, excuse me. These gentlemen are
here to arrest you."

"Arrest me?" Teddy shouted. "You're crazy.
For what?" He jumped to his feet, china, silver, and crystal
clattering as he knocked against the table. He started toward the
door.

The policemen moved in quickly, each taking
an arm and restraining him before he could leave the room. Teddy
struggled in their grasp, but it was useless. The coke high that
had made him feel omnipotent was gone, and in its place was a
staggering powerlessness.

"You'll be charged with misappropriation of
funds, young man," Dock said, "and I'm sorry to say you'll be
charged with securities fraud and God alone knows what else." He
cleared his throat, then said, "If you gentlemen don't mind, would
you read him his rights outside so that Mrs. de la Rochelle doesn't
have to witness such a scene?"

The police cuffed Teddy and began walking him
out of the room. "You'll pay for this, Dock," Teddy said. "You too,
Marguerite. All of you will pay."

When they were gone, Dock turned to
Marguerite. "I'm happy to say that I think we've managed to save
most if not all of your money, my dear." He looked at Jamie.
"Yours, too, Jamie. Teddy didn't have it long enough to do any real
damage."

Marguerite rose and strode over to the old
man. She took one of his hands in hers. "Thank you, Dock," she
said, "and forgive me for deserting you. I was very foolish."

"I think your daughter has pretty good
instincts, Marguerite," he said. "You might do well to listen to
her in the future."

They sat in a small conservatory surrounded
by a veritable forest. Huge potted palms interspersed with ferns of
several different kinds, orchids, many of which were in colorful
bloom, gardenia bushes, camellias, lemon and orange trees—the
variety and beauty was endless, Valerie thought. As if their
perfume wasn't enough, a bitter orange incense burned in hidden
corners, infusing the room with a heady and exotic aroma that she
found irresistible.

Some of the glass in the conservatory windows
was actually cut Bohemian crystal in blues and reds and whites, and
overhead was a crystal chandelier lit with thirty-six burning
tapers. The light was subdued but dazzled nevertheless, reflecting
off the windows, the chandelier, and the table's Venetian
glassware, silver, and exquisite china.

The marble floors were covered with a
multitude of Turkish kilims, some running over others. Even the
table had been draped with a richly colored kilim that looked
unbelievably beautiful.

Tonight is special, all right
, she
told herself. She didn't think she'd ever eaten in such magnificent
surroundings, and the combination of the opulent with the earthy
only made its appeal seem that much more luxurious and exotic.

"I don't believe it," Wyn had said when he
greeted her at the door. "You're wearing a djellaba. It's perfect
for tonight. Perfect!"

"Are you just saying that?" she'd asked. "Or
trying to make me feel better about my crazy wardrobe?"

"No, Val," he'd said, "I really mean it.
You'll see why."

And now, of course, she did. He'd planned a
sort of Arabian Nights dinner in the conservatory, which felt
almost like eating in a luxurious pasha's garden. The rugs and the
incense and the flowers and plants and the food itself had made the
evening a feast for all the senses. They'd had a lamb dish and
couscous and unidentifiable tiny fried fish, and delicious sweet
cakes of all kinds, many saturated with honey and nuts.

Wyn had gone to fetch some brandy, because
they'd decided to have a drink in here before going to the library.
The room was hard to leave, its beauty so enticing. They would wait
until the candles had burned a little lower, then move on to the
library, where Val was certain further delights of a different
nature awaited her.

Wyn stepped into the conservatory, the
brandies in hand. He looked so extraordinary, she thought, dressed
in a wildly colored silk smoking jacket. It was made of several
different stripes of silk, individually sewn together, with velvet
lapels and cuffs. He'd laughed about it and told her that his
mother had bought it for him in Paris years ago. But she could tell
that he loved it.

He handed her a brandy, then sat down at the
table next to her. "Cheers," he said.

"Cheers," Val said, and they clinked glasses,
then took sips of the fiery liquid.

"Now," Wyn said, "there's just one more
little thing to make this evening special, and I think the time has
come."

She looked into his eyes. "I think the
evening has already been so special that I don't know if I could
stand anything else."

"Somehow, I think you'll be able to
appreciate this one more thing." He slipped his hand into the
pocket of his jacket and pulled out a box.

Valerie's eyes grew wide. She couldn't help
but be reminded of the night only a short time ago when Teddy had
given her the ring, but she didn't want thoughts of that night to
intrude, to ruin the exquisite pleasure—and love—that she had found
with Wyn.

He took one of her hands and placed the box
in it. "This is for you," he said. "I hope you like it."

She looked down at the box, then opened it
without hesitation. She drew in her breath, stunned by the ring
that sat winking up at her.

"Oh, Wyn," she said, "I've never seen
anything so beautiful in my life! I mean it. It's the most
beautiful ring I've ever seen."

She took it out of the box without being told
to and slipped it on her finger. It fitted perfectly.

Wyn was grinning from ear to ear, watching
her every expression, listening to her every word, enjoying the
sight of her taking it out of the box and putting it on.

She leaned over and placed her hands on his
shoulders, then kissed him on the lips. "Thank you, Wyn," she said.
"I love you."

"I love you, too," he said tenderly.

They kissed a moment longer, then he drew
back. "Let me see it on you," he said.

She held the ring up proudly, twisting her
finger this way and that. "It matches my eyes perfectly."

"That's what I hoped," he said, "and believe
me, it took a lot of calling around and sending pictures back and
forth before I found what I hoped would be just the right diamond
for you."

"Diamond?" she said. "You mean it's not an
emerald?"

He shook his head. "No, it's a green
diamond."

"I didn't even know there was such a thing,"
she said in wonder, looking at the stone anew.

"Well, Doc," he said, "stick with me and you
might learn a thing or two." He looked into her eyes, and she held
his gaze. He leaned down and kissed her lips, his arms encircling
her in their warmth.

Valerie almost sighed aloud with happiness.
The feel of his lips on hers and those powerful arms drawing her to
him sent a quiver of excitement up her spine.
I could stay like
this forever,
she thought as she returned his kisses.
In his
arms, against his warm body, feeling so completely loved by the man
I love.

Wyn drew back. "Come with me," he said
softly, gently leading her toward a velvet upholstered chaise
nestled among the conservatory's profuse greenery. There,
surrounded by the intoxicating perfume of exotic blooms, he eased
her down onto the chaise, then removed his smoking jacket and lay
beside her. He took her into his arms again, drawing her next to
him, his hands stroking her lovingly, his lips seeking out hers
once more.

Valerie reveled in the feel of his hard and
determined maleness against her own soft and yielding flesh, and
his distinct and tantalizing masculine odor aroused her more than
the scent of a thousand flowers. As his lips lingered on hers, she
began to stroke him slowly and tenderly, wanting their exquisite
togetherness to last forever.

His lips moved to her neck, where he kissed
her reverently before trailing down to the barely exposed cleavage
between her breasts. As he inhaled her sweet femininity, Valerie
felt her heart swell with pleasure and passion and love for this
man whose every touch increased her desire for him.

Wyn lifted his head and looked into her eyes.
"Let's undress," he said.

She nodded, a smile of anticipation hovering
on her lips.

He stood and held out a hand to her. She took
it and let him pull her to her feet. Within mere moments he had
taken off her clothes and laid them across a chair, then she
removed his and placed them atop her own. They stood before one
another, their eyes taking delight in one another's magnificent
nakedness.