Blood And Water (12 page)

How ironic, she thought. It was the same hard edge that attracted her to him in the first place that now made her feel so nauseous. They took no prisoners, she and Seb, and often marvelled pompously at the tales of their individual conquests, regardless of the inevitable collateral damage, human or otherwise. In hindsight, she conceded, like wild dogs it was only a matter of time before they turned on each other.

Life with Seb had become a chore, something she did because she was bound to rather than wanted to. She didn’t like to be ignored and certainly wasn’t going to put up with moods. Kathryn understood his commitment to his work; she accepted it, it was what made him who he was. She couldn’t imagine his dedication to be anything other than one hundred and ten per cent. The recession almost broke them, but they managed their way through and survived. She should be proud of him, he should be proud of himself, but no – whatever was going on he had become unbearable. His pomp was replaced by petulance and distemper. She was being cast aside like some spent business deal.

Restless and impatient she stood to pace her office, pausing at the window that overlooked the hospital car park just in time to spot Cormac glide in on his bicycle. A wave of patronising pity washed over her: he looked so ridiculous in his tweed brown blazer and trouser-legs tucked into his socks. Despite their private school education, of the Bertram brothers Seb was really the only one with an ounce of decorum. While Rian was tolerable, his do-good mentality irked her immensely. And then there was Cormac.

“Look at him,” she whispered to the empty room. “How pitiful! Cormac Bertram, pedalling furiously on his teenage racer.”

For a split second she was stung by a pang of guilt: she was about to turn his world upside down when all he’d done was ask for her help. Certainly she was flattered that he came to her in the first place but his trust was misplaced and it was unfortunate that the day he called to her office to tell her his tale of woe was the same day as her argument with Seb. He had never hit her before so she was completely unprepared for the back of his hand when it met her cheekbone. How was she to know a throwaway remark about his underperformance would trigger such a violent reaction? Had she known, she wouldn’t have said it aloud. That blow marked the end of their already struggling marriage.

“What happened?” Cormac had asked her that day, nervously taking his seat opposite her.

“Nothing too dramatic,” she’d told him, gingerly touching the bruised and tender part of her face. “Just an overzealous morning in the gym, I’m afraid.”

“Jesus, it looks pretty sore!”

“I’ll survive,” she replied with a reassuring smile. “Now! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thankfully he was too distracted to interrogate her further.

Was that only a week ago, she asked herself, watching Cormac lock his bike, take his trousers from his socks and fix himself before making his way towards the hospital entrance.

He had been terribly edgy during his first visit. It was her job to read people and he was like an open junior-cycle book. So damn awkward and simple to read – his knees bounced, his fingers fidgeted and his eyes darted around the room like pinballs. When he did look at her it was uncomfortably, gauging her, second-guessing her reaction. His eventual humiliation and absolute mortification when finally he whispered, with his head hung low and his eyes almost closed, “Kathryn, I’m in trouble – I need your help,” weren’t lost on her. And in those first moments she actually felt sorry for him.

“What kind of trouble? Are you okay?” she asked with appropriate levels of concern and kindness, moving to sit opposite him.

“Not really,” he replied with an uneasy chuckle.

“Go on,” she encouraged him, “tell me.”

An expert at masking her thoughts, she let him speak without showing either surprise or curiosity at this new and intriguing side of her not-so-innocent brother-in-law. She could feel his ignominy, could taste his helplessness – his body pulsed servility.

And when he was done, she simply nodded and let the silence, like a gentle snowfall, settle around him. Observing him while he sat, her mind tripped into action and a plot began to take shape in her shrewd head. She let him wallow in the stillness while she nurtured her scheme. He wanted her help, needed her help. Just how badly she was about to explore.

Sitting back into her chair she clasped her hands in her lap, dropping her eyes to inspect them dramatically, and for effect took a deep breath before looking back up.

“I have to say I’m a little surprised,” she lied. “Can you leave this with me for a bit?”

“Sure. Sure,” Cormac replied emphatically, squinting painfully while trying hard to catch her eye and gauge her thoughts.

But she refused to meet his stare. She knew what he was thinking: ‘
At least she didn’t say no, not immediately anyway
.’ And when she didn’t move, he knew it was his cue to leave.

“Okay. Well –” he said awkwardly, “I’ll get going so,” and gathering himself together he stood up.

She remembered the look on his face as he turned to open the door: confused and unfinished.

“You are coming to lunch on Sunday?” she asked his tweed-clad back.

He turned with a weak smile and nodded.

“I’ll see you then,” she said. “We can chat again there.”

That day she gave him hope.

Kathryn used the next few days to think. It was both the first and the last thing she thought of every day until Sunday finally arrived. Filled with anticipation before even getting out of bed she paced through her plan, working through the potential variations of what might happen. Regardless of the path each scenario took they all ended up in the same deviant place. She hoped he wouldn’t let her down but she doubted he would. She knew his personality type: he simply wouldn’t be able to resist. It wasn’t in his nature to say no. They both knew she was his only option; he’d said so himself. And heading to the shower, for the first time in as long as she could remember, the prospect of the monthly Bertram luncheon was quite enjoyable, for all the wrong reasons.

Cormac was the first to arrive, so eager was he to hear her answer. But she played him like a tightly strung fiddle, using the excuse of preparing the meal to appear flustered and distracted, and managed to gleefully and credibly withhold the attention he coveted.

She could feel his eyes on her, tracking her like a cat about to pounce, watching her every move. Laughing brazenly to herself, she thrilled at how edgy he was and how wicked she was about to be. So far, so good – her plan was coming together nicely.

Arriving into the kitchen after they’d finished the main course she geared up her game and, stepping in behind him, placed a hand on each forearm and slowly pushed herself against him. She felt him stand firm and hold his breath as if its rhythm would betray him. She knew he was aroused but working hard to hide his reactions. He was the startled gazelle leaping for the safety of the long grass.

“Oh for God’s sake, Cormac, don’t go all innocent on me,” she mocked, just about able to contain a laugh that threatened to burst from her. “I’ve seen the way you watch me. I’m not shy, I’m open to it. Don’t deny you fancy me. We’re too long in the tooth to play games.”

He was so easy to read she could imagine the thoughts that were rushing through his brain.

Go on, she silently prompted, say it . . . And he didn’t disappoint.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What about Seb?”

“What about him?”

“What about him? Are you serious? He’s your husband for Christ’s sake and my brother.”

“Is that all that’s stopping you?” she asked, moving towards him till she could smell the frustration on his heavy breath.

“Don’t.”

“Well,” she told him, taking a step back, “now you know what I want.”

It was done. The seed was sown. She was playing a cruel game, she knew that, but it was fun. Now she just needed to get him alone again. There was only the tiniest of doubts in her mind that maybe he wouldn’t turn up but the temptation of a solution to his problem would win out.

Kathryn wasn’t surprised when after dessert she returned to the kitchen to find he was gone.

And here he was. The phone on her desk rang out, bringing her straight back to the here and the now and Cormac who, Janice her PA announced, was waiting to see her.

“Send him straight in,” Kathryn told her, standing only to sit again and run a hand over her perfect hair.

Well, this is it, she said to herself, picking up a pen and making herself look busy.

“Come in,” she replied to the quiet but firm knock at the door.

She heard him enter.

“Punctual. I like that in a man,” she said without looking up. “Sit. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Obediently he sat into the visitor’s chair opposite and waited for her attention. She glanced quickly at him. His eyes were pasted to the floor as if even to look at her was betraying his brother.

“So, thanks for coming,” she said, finally putting down her elegant fountain pen to sit back in her chair. “You left yesterday without giving us a chance to agree the detail.”

“The detail of what?” he asked politely.

“You know,” she teased. “Our deal to save your ass.” She got up from her chair, shimmying seductively around to perch herself on the edge of her desk in front of him, making it impossible for him not to at least notice her provocatively placed stocking-clad legs.

Swallowing hard, he did his best to keep his eyes anywhere but on her.

“Kathryn,” he whispered, “you are my brother’s wife. Please don’t do this.”

She considered him for a minute, checked her watch and wondered how much more he could take. Deciding for immediacy – she only had so much time – she stood and walked around to the desk drawer. Opening it she removed the envelope, placed it on the table and pushed it towards him.

“It’s all there. A hundred thousand euro.”

Cormac looked at the package resting innocuously on her desktop: his future concealed inside an insipid yellow wrapper. This time when he swallowed his throat was dry and the air caught in his throat, making him cough.

“And in return,” she told him, “I want you. Just once. Here. Now.”

She knew she’d presented him with an offer that was just too irresistible to refuse. Here she was: willing, gorgeous and oh so tempting. She could almost hear him rationalise the offer inside his tiny little mind. They were alone. No one would see. She watched him blink, watched his eyes widen, knew what he was thinking. Knew what the voices in his head were saying, how the ‘
No way!’
that started out so vociferously was being smothered into almost silent insignificance by the voice that said ‘
Just once’
. It was incredible to watch: textbook stuff really. She was all too familiar with the type, having dealt with quite a few in her professional career. He was nearly there. Working through to the next phase of her beautifully conceived plan, she picked up the phone to remove the final obstacle.

“Janice, why don’t you take an early lunch? “

Now they were really alone. No one to disturb them. No one to know.

“Just once,” she repeated softly as if to answer the last remaining question and convince his conscience.

She stood before him, her legs slightly apart, and with both hands slowly lifted the hem of her navy pinstripe skirt up to just below her hips, revealing the lace tops of her silk stockings and the tanned toned stretch of soft sweet-smelling skin. She waited for him to lift his eyes to hers as she knew he would once he had passed the point of refusal and, when he did, she paused for a moment to hold them before stepping closer to him.

“Just once,” she whispered, “and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Her words rang empty even to her own ears. For a split second she almost lost her bottle. Almost didn’t, couldn’t go through with it. Almost.

But now that she nearly had him, his control all but gone, his last remaining efforts to restrain himself and refuse her were weak and unconvincing.

“God, Kathryn, please,” he begged aloud and half-heartedly, shaking his head in an attempted protest, “he’s my brother for God’s sake!” but the hands that moved to investigate beyond the hem of her skirt betrayed his now feeble protests.

“Oh, Seb won’t mind,” she replied bitterly. “He’s far too busy with his little kingdom to take any notice of me, let alone you. Do you think he actually cares about either of us?” Leaning over, she gave him full view of her ample cleavage: her best feature, she often thought.

It was almost time.

Taking him by the collar of his awful tweedy blazer she pulled him up, slipping it over his shoulders and out of his arms to cast it carelessly onto the opposite chair. He didn’t stop her but she could tell he was pushing himself to the limits of his restraint.

Only a little farther, she sang inside her head.

Standing up, taking a few steps back, dragging him with her, she felt the edge of the desk against her backside and stopped. Reaching up to take hold of his face, she angled it down towards her own so her eyes met his.

“Just once,” was all she said, taking hold of his hand and placing its clammy palm inside her shirt, against her skin.

“Just once,” he repeated, unable to hold back any more.

It was too much. He simply wasn’t designed to say no.

It was almost time. With Janice gone he would come straight through, unannounced. Probably wouldn’t even knock. Sensing Cormac’s response to the feel of her skin, she encouraged his touch and lifted her leg to wrap around his waist, bringing his head down to her chest. Any minute now. He reciprocated accordingly, releasing her breast from the lace confines of her bra and taking it full into his mouth.

“Not so fast,” she told him, willing him to ease his pace, holding him back by the hair at the nape of his neck, the edge of the table biting hard into the cheeks of her bottom.

She only wanted him and needed him to go so far. Then it was done.

Cormac didn’t see or hear the door when it opened. He didn’t see his brother stand in the frame, looking on while he suckled his wife. He didn’t see the look of confusion morph first to shock, then disgust.