[Churchminster #3] Wild Things (30 page)

Devon didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Course you can. Here, you can use my en suite. It’s a bit over-the-top, be warned.’

He wasn’t joking. Beyond the massive bedroom with its satin revolving bed and overhead mirror was a bathroom that looked like it had been stolen straight from the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas. A gaudy gold bath big enough for six stood in the centre of the floor, while a tacky mural of nubile Egyptian goddesses was painted on the ceiling above.

‘Power shower’s good, though,’ Devon offered, as he
gave
her a black-and-gold Playboy bath-towel. ‘I’ll be downstairs,’ he told her and left her to it.

Ten minutes later she was drying herself with the towel in the bedroom when the door opened.

‘Oh!’ said Frances, clutching the towel closer to her.

‘Shit, sorry, princess! I thought you were in the bathroom still.’

She raised an elegant eyebrow.

‘I did, honest! I came to knock on the door and ask if you wanted a drink or anything. I’m making us a bit of grub.’

‘An Earl Grey would be lovely, thank you,’ she replied, trying to compose herself.

Frances was suddenly aware of the amount of flesh she was showing, and felt aroused and oddly vulnerable at the same time.

Devon’s eyes wandered to her white, delicate shoulders, barely ravaged by the passing of time. ‘I’ll go and make that brew for you,’ he muttered distractedly, but it was clear by the urgent look in his eyes that his mind was on something else.

They stood and gazed at each other across the bed. Suddenly, before she knew it. Devon was upon her, taking her in his arms. ‘Fuck, Frannie, I’ve missed you!’

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she tried to gasp, but then his mouth was on hers, his tongue in her mouth: exploring, revisiting, hungry for her. She could feel the bristle of his stubble against her skin; smell the mixture of sweat and aftershave. Frances flung her arms round Devon’s neck, feeling the familiar leanness of his body. The
towel
had fallen to the ground, but she didn’t care, as Devon’s hand ran over her smooth back and small buttocks, down the back of her thighs.

Very carefully, as if he were handling priceless china, Devon laid her down on the bed. His shirt was open now, revealing an impressively toned chest for a fifty-something, with remnants of a six-pack, and a few dark hairs peppering his yoga-toned pectorals.

Frances stared up at him longingly, opening her legs without even really realizing what she was doing. Devon looked at her triangle of pubic hair, and the pink contours of her clitoris. His erection, already hard, swelled to bursting against the flimsy fabric of his trousers.

The thought of Ambrose shot into her mind, but somehow she squeezed it out again. ‘Come here,’ she said, voice shaking. Devon needed no encouragement as he lay down on top of her, skin on skin, caressing the dusky pink of her nipples. Frances’s manicured fingers were pulling underneath, at his zip. Devon moved on to his side to make it easier for her. She sighed with satisfaction as her hand found his cock and closed round it. ‘Devon, darling,’ she whispered. ‘I must have you inside me.’

Frances’s cut-class tones had always given him a boner. Another rush of blood surged through his erection. Devon kicked off his pants and nudged her knees even wider apart with his own. She wrapped her thoroughbred legs around him, waiting for him to enter her.

‘Fuck-a-duck, Princess, you’re incredible!’ Devon
closed
his eyes and pushed inwards. He’d been thinking about this moment for so long.

Frances gasped slightly with pain as Devon entered her, but then he was inside, filling her up, making her body tingle from top to toe. They started rocking back and forwards. Devon’s hands slid round her bottom, and she arched her hips up, wanting him in her even deeper. Over his shoulder, Frances looked up at the mirror and saw his long, lean body covering hers, backside pert, back muscled from years of yoga. Her own face was looking back, flushed and free. Frances wrapped her legs round him even tighter. ‘Fuck me!’ she said.

He needed no encouragement and eventually they both came, and collapsed on each other in sweaty contentment.

‘I love you, princess,’ he murmured into her ear. Frances’ eyes welled up with emotion.

‘Oh, Devon …’

All of a sudden there was an ear-splitting shriek, causing them to jump apart like scalded cats. Devon looked round in confusion and panic, before his face dropped.

‘It’s the fire alarm!’ he shouted. ‘I’d forgotten I’d left the bacon on!’

He jumped off her and ran out. Frances grabbed the towel off the bed and followed in hot pursuit down the stairs. The kitchen was filled with smoke, the blackened remains of the bacon Devon had been going to add to the Caesar salad now smouldering in the sink.

The alarm was deafening.

‘How do you turn it off?’ cried Frances, as Devon poured cold water on the grill pan, making steam sizzle and hiss.

‘Haven’t got a Scooby!’ he shouted. In the distance there was the wail of a fire engine. Devon went pale. ‘Shit, it’s the boys in red! Snork mentioned something about being wired up to the local fire station.’

Frances was horror-struck. She couldn’t be found here, practically naked! ‘I’ve got to get away before anyone sees me!’

‘But how?’

Frances’s mind whirred into action. It was a desperate measure, but this was a desperate situation. ‘Never mind,’ she shouted. ‘I’ll be in touch!’ With a quick lingering kiss on his lips, she turned and ran out.

Chief Fire Officer Norman Stanton stared grimly through the windscreen. He knew the property they were headed for belonged to some rich old bloke, but the fact he lived abroad most of the time made it very suspicious indeed. Chief Stanton smoothed down his dour moustache, assessing the situation. Unless an arsonist had torched the joint to get a thrill, it was probably some little toe-rags who’d broken in to have a party, and one of their funny fags had set fire to the curtains.

Just as he rounded a bend in the narrow track, the most unbelievable sight confronted Chief Stanton. A psychedelic three-wheeler van, being driven by what appeared to be a giant beaver, screeched to a halt in front of them. The beaver stuck its head out of the
window
and pointed back in the direction it’d just come from.

‘That way, gentlemen!’

And with that, the decrepit old van nudged past the gawping fire officers and hurtled off down the track like a rally car.

Chief Stanton turned to his fellow firefighter. ‘Did I really just see that?’ The stunned look on his colleague’s face told him he had, indeed.

Chief Stanton shook his head. They were a bunch of fruit loops round here! The firefighters pressed forward, unaware they were about to discover the whereabouts of Devon Cornwall.

PART THREE

Chapter 39

CLEMENTINE WAS AT
Clanfield Hall, having promised to take a cure for leaf mould up to one of the gardeners. Jed had mentioned to her they’d been having problems with the tomato plants, but when she drove up the driveway, she was surprised to see him standing on one of the lawns engrossed in conversation with that actress Sophia Highforth. She was in costume and Jed was carrying his toolkit in one hand, probably on his way to mend something, but there was a closeness about them that gave Clementine a nasty feeling. As she pulled up Sophia brushed something off Jed’s face and smiled at him.

‘Hello, Jed,’ she called through the window, wanting to put a stop to this exchange as soon as possible. Jed turned and when he saw it was Clementine, jumped apart from Sophia like a scalded cat.

‘Mrs S-F, hi there.’

Clementine shot him a quizzical look.

‘I’m just dropping off the fungicide for the leaf mould, as I said I would.’

Jed looked blank for a moment, and then recognition dawned.

‘Oh yeah, of course.’

He said something in an undertone to Sophia. Giving him a meaningful look, she squeezed his arm and walked off.

‘Is everything all right?’ Clementine asked pointedly, as Jed reached the car. He flushed.

‘Er yeah.’

Clementine bit her tongue and handed the bottle through the open window. Jed seemed relieved at the diversion.

‘Thanks for this. It’s going to be a godsend.’

He was having trouble meeting her eyes. There was an awkward silence, one Clementine had no intention of filling.

‘I guess I should get back to work,’ Jed said eventually.

‘Yes, I think you should,’ she said meaningfully. Flushing, he mumbled a goodbye and walked off quickly. Clementine drove back down the drive, casting concerned little glances in the rear-view mirror. If Jed wasn’t a man with a guilty conscience, he was doing a jolly good job of acting like one.

‘What are you up to, young fellow?’ she said aloud, frowning.

Calypso bounded up the stairs to her office. Despite having a pinky eye and being asked continually by her
grandmother
if she wanted some conjunctivitis cream, she was in a really good mood. For once, Rafe had two days off, and she was looking forward to spending some quality time with him. Maybe they could go out and do something: impressive as Rafe’s place was, Calypso was starting to go stir-crazy, staying in the whole time. Now she’d got over the incident with the paparazzi, she felt ready to step out and show the world they were a couple. She was Rafe Wolfe’s girlfriend, goddammit! Calypso knew there would be media interest, but she was savvy enough to deal with it. She could take anything that was thrown at her as long as she had him.

Later, she was just finishing off a few things when her mobile rang. It was the man himself.

‘Hello, sexy.’

Calypso leaned back in her chair, smiling. ‘I was just thinking about you. What time are you back later?’

He paused. ‘There’s a bit of a problem. I’ve just had some bad family news.’

She sat up straight. ‘Oh no. No one’s died have they?’

‘Thankfully no. Well, not yet anyway. It’s my grandmother, she’d been ill for some time and my mother has just called to say she’s taken a turn for the worse. I’ve got to go to Norfolk tonight.’

Disappointment seeped through Calypso, but she understood. She knew how she’d feel if it was Granny Clem.

Rafe sounded gutted. ‘I’m sorry, I was really looking forward to spending some proper time with you.’

‘Me too, but family is important, Rafe. You must go and see her.’

‘You’re quite a gal, you know?’

‘Oh, stop it with the cheesy compliments,’ she smiled.

He gave a soft chuckle. ‘I’ll call you later when I’ve got there.’

‘OK, I miss you.’

‘I miss you, too, Calypso.’

Camilla was in the guest bedroom at No. 5, putting away some spare bed sheets in the cupboard. As she put the last one up, she heard the top set of the stairs creak and a low voice speaking. It was Jed. She couldn’t hear what he was saying as he went into their bedroom and shut the door.

Without really thinking what she was doing, Camilla crept out of the room and down the corridor. Heart beating furiously, she put her ear to the wood. Whoever Jed was on the phone to, he was just finishing the call.

‘I can’t put it off any longer.’ There was a pause. ‘Yep, you too. Bye.’

Suddenly the bedroom door was pulled open. Camilla jumped back as if she’d been scalded. She fished wildly for an excuse. ‘I was just getting some towels …’

Jed looked angry. ‘Were you listening at the door?’

‘No! I was just getting some fresh towels from the airing cupboard. I didn’t hear anything, if that’s what you’re getting at …’

A weird look came over Jed’s face. For a moment Camilla thought he was about to tell her something, but then it was gone.

‘I’m going to put the kettle on,’ he asked. ‘Do you want something?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ she said shortly, before turning away so Jed couldn’t see the dull flush working its way up her neck. She was sure he’d been on the phone to a woman. In fact, one particular woman.

Camilla was watching, or rather staring, at the television when Jed came down the stairs later. He was carrying an overnight bag.

‘I’m going to spend the night at Ma’s,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a really early start tomorrow and I don’t want to disturb you when I get up.’

He’d had early starts before and it had never been a problem, Camilla thought. Anger, born out of weeks of anxiety, flared up. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

She stood up, facing him. ‘Were you just on the phone to Sophia Highforth?’

Jed flushed, but didn’t deny it.

Shock and anger coursed through Camilla. ‘What the hell are you doing calling each other?’

‘Sophia called
me
. She must have got my number off one of the lads at the Hall.’

‘I’m supposed to believe that? Are you going off somewhere with her?’

His jaw tightened. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Well, what am I supposed to think?’ she cried.
‘You’re
certainly acting like a man with something to hide. Phone calls, secret meetings, and you haven’t even touched me for weeks. I don’t understand, Jed.’

He looked at her, face suddenly blank. ‘I haven’t got time for this, Camilla.’

‘That’s right, walk off and leave just like you did with all the others!’ As soon as Camilla said this, she regretted it. Wordlessly Jed turned round and walked out.

Hearing the front door slam from upstairs, Calypso came down. ‘Whoa, what’s going on?’ she asked. She stopped dead at the sight of her sister’s pale, tear-stained face.

‘It’s Jed. I’ve just asked him again if he’s having an affair with Sophia Highforth. He said no, but I don’t believe him.’ Camilla took a deep shuddering breath. ‘I can’t go on like this, Calypso.
We
can’t go on like this.’

Calypso set her jaw. ‘Right, I’m having it out with him.’

‘Calypso, wait! You’ll only make things worse!’

But the front door had slammed for the second time that night.

As Calypso ran down the garden path she could see Jed still sitting his van, engine running. ‘Jed, wait!’ She ran round to his window and rapped loudly. Surprised, he looked up. Calypso noticed his face was as white as Camilla’s. She didn’t beat around the bush. ‘Jed, what the hell is going on? Are you having it off with Sophia Highforth or what?’