The Tied Man (48 page)

‘Curls, please,’ Nat said, self-consciously running his fingers across his newly-cropped hair.

‘Sorry, ‘Noah’.’  I laughed. ‘And where the hell did you get that name from?’

Nat blushed.  ‘Um, my hamster when I was a kid,’ he muttered.

‘Your
hamster
?’

‘Well you used a bloody cat, didn’t you?  Never had a cat, so I just went for the next best thing.’

The music came to a halt, and Gabriel reverentially lowered the lid.  ‘So do I get a proper hug now, or what?’ he asked.

I walked over to the piano, stood behind him, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. ‘Thank you,’ I said, and kissed him on the cheek.  ‘I know it’s a huge price to pay for a bit of in-flight entertainment...’

Gabriel twisted in his seat so he faced me.  ‘What else am I gonna do when some complete stranger rings me in the middle of the night and tells me some Ladyship or other’s about to offer me a minibreak orgy?  Seriously though, babe – as soon as ‘Noah’ here gave me the call, I was in.  Just wish I’d have pushed it a bit more back in
London
.  Knew you was in some kind of bother, didn’t I?  Should have done a bit more...’

‘You did what you could, Gabe.  And if you’re concerned in the slightest, what you’re doing now gets yo
u a fast pass
through the Pearly Gates upon your premature death from a life of hedonism and excess.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.  Now keep playing, would you?  I don’t think this room is bugged, but I know I’ll feel a hell of a lot happier with some background noise going on.’

‘
Bugged
?  Fuck me.  At some point, are you actually going to explain what the fuck’s going on here?  ‘Cos all I’ve got so far is a posh bird who seems to want to get her hands on my knob before the sun sets, and some stroppy Irish supermodel bloke who looks like he’s out to kill me just for breathing.’

‘Later.  If we can pull this thing off, we’ll have the rest of the night to put the world to rights.  You get my time and attention, and all the details that you could ever wish for.’

Gabriel rolled his eyes and pulled his stool a little closer to the piano.  ‘Good job you’re gorgeous, Ms Bresson.’

‘Isn’t it, though?’

As the music began once more, Nat turned to me and gave me a look that was a perfect combination of sadness and acceptance. ‘The ‘stroppy Irish supermodel’.  He’s the one, isn’t he?’

For  the briefest moment I thought about lying, about denying everything and blaming my recent madness on simple altruism.  Then I looked at Nat and realised that he had known everything that really mattered the moment he had sleepily picked up the telephone that night.

‘Yeah.  Yeah, he’s the one.’

‘You know how I guessed?’  Nat asked. 

‘How?’

Nat gave a brave smile.  ‘The lucky sod’s obviously allowed to call you Lili without getting to take his bollocks home in a jam jar.’

It wasn’t even that I thought there was anything going on between the pair of them.   It was simply that looking at the pair of perma-tanned, flash little bastards with her was like watching beings from another planet.  One that I had no hope of ever visiting.

I shouldn’t have bothered coming back up to the Great Hall.  Hadn’t expected this reaction, so had nothing in place to deal with it.  I got that same, sick feeling that had coshed me when I read the newspaper article; this was Lilith’s world, and these were the kind of men she was meant to be with.

The longer I stood behind the arch, playing the voyeur, the more hellish I felt.  I was trying to cut down on some of the shit I’d been throwing down my neck, and as a result I was held in the teeth of a protracted rattle that was controlled enough not to kill me on the spot, but more than enough to give me a headache that didn’t even leave me when I slept, and a cold sweat that soaked through my shirt as it leached the poison from my body.  I forced my gaze away from the happy little reunion, and headed for the cellars.

*****

Just ten would do it.  The urge to push those little white tablets from their blisters threatened to overwhelm me, so much so that I didn’t dare glance at the drawer where the open packet was kept or even the bin where I’d thrown an empty box;  I could already imagine the sharp aftertaste lingering on my tongue. 

I shut my eyes and tried to find a centring breath that might give me another minute’s worth of resistance, but my mouth was already filled with that welcoming bitterness.  I needed a better diversion than thinking happy thoughts and rainbows.  I fumbled in my pocket for my lighter and fag packet, and rolled up my sleeve.

‘Please don’t.’

I felt her walk up to me and stand at my shoulder.  I didn’t even turn my head.  ‘‘What the hell do you see in me, Lili?  ‘Cos I sure as fuck can’t see it in myself.  Jesus, I’m this sorry, broken
thing
next to them!   I can’t even speak the same language – what can I talk about, huh?  How to get fucked by bastards?  The top ten methods of creative self-harm?’ 

She took the cigarette from my fingers and stubbed it out on the dresser top.  ‘I don’t expect you to be like them.  Don’t want you to be.  It’s not them I want, it’s you.  From the moment we met, it’s only been you.’

I couldn’t speak.  I turned my lighter over and over in my hand as I fought the urge to light another smoke and drive it into my arm.  I was on the very brink of losing myself again, and I didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. 

‘I can’t do this alone, Finn.  I need you beside me.’

Nobody had ever said that to me.  I finally dared myself to face her, wanting to tell her everything that was going on in my head, explain away my idiocy, and then I was kissing her harder than I had ever kissed anyone in my life and the flare of raw need left no fear for fear, doubt, or anything else but Lilith.  She gave a muffled squeak of surprise, and I realised what I was doing.  I broke away.  ‘Aah, oh God, I’m sorry... That was so fucking inappropriate... I... Jesus, you want to talk and I...  Oh
bollocks
.’  I had never sounded like such a magnificent wanker.

‘Finn, shut up and fuck me,’ Lilith whispered in my ear.

So I did.

Lilith hauled my hoodie and t-shirt over my head and flung it into a corner. Seconds later, her own sweater had joined it, followed swiftly by a pair of sweatpants and a black thong and bra and then she was standing naked before me for the first time.

‘Dear God, you’re gorgeous,’ I whispered, and meant it; her deceptively slight frame was all muscle and flawless, tawny skin, from her small, high breasts to the gentle curve of her hips.  I wanted all of her, all at once.

Her nipples were already hard before I got anywhere near them; probably something to do with the fact that the temperature was about minus twenty and falling.  As I kissed her again, she entwined her arms around my neck . I grabbed her arse, pulling her hungrily towards me, and we staggered backwards into the ancient wall.  Lilith wrapped her legs around my waist, and I felt my ribs complain as her thigh muscles gripped me; I was reminded that this was a woman who ran a daily pre-breakfast assault course just for laughs.

‘Sorry – are you…’ she gasped, as I winced.

‘M’good,’ I said, the urgency banishing any pain.  We fell onto the mattress and I pulled the filthy duvet over us to combat the cold.  I fumbled at the buttons of my jeans and managed to kick them down the bed, and then we were both naked together. 

There was no time – no need –  for foreplay. Within moments I was inside her, feeling her clench against me, all warmth and silken wetness.  Now it was her hands around
my
backside, drawing me further in with each thrust, and I had to think of the contents of Henry’s fridge before it felt safe for me to proceed.

This time Lilith came first. In one glorious surge, I felt her clasp me ever harder, and she buried her mouth in mine to soften her cry.  I finally let myself go, and matched Lilith’s rhythm to join her.

We lay there, wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs.  I wasn’t cold anymore.

‘Oh, you beautiful, beautiful man,’ Lilith whispered, and covered my face with butterfly kisses.  I returned each one.

‘
A chuisle
,’ I murmured as she laid her head on my chest, and for the longest time we just lay there, sharing the warmth of skin on skin and pretending we were the only people on the planet.

*****

‘You have the neatest bush I’ve ever seen in my life, you know that?’ I asked, running my finger over the softness.

‘And that surprises you?’

‘Nah.  Pubic topiary.  I like it,’ I said, and Lilith giggled.  I kissed her again, just because I could. 

Too soon, she gave a resigned sigh and reached for her clothes. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better go and get ready for this farrago of villainy.’

I held onto her as if I could keep her.  ‘It’s the most evil thing, Lili, and you shouldn’t be anywhere near it.  I wish to God there was another way of doing this.’

‘We’ve come this far.  Just a little further, then we’re home free.’  She took my hands in hers and touched my fingers to her lips.  ‘So let’s do this bloody thing, shall we?’

The transformation into the product known as Lilith Bresson took me nearly two hours, by the time I had bathed, dried my hair without the use of a bloody hairdryer, and applied a protective layer of warpaint. 

Blaine
had chosen my dress for the evening.  In truth it looked more like two white silk handkerchiefs sown loosely together than a dress, something Tinkerbell might wear if she ever decided to take up a porn career.  I supposed it wasn’t actually meant to be worn for any significant length of time, and it was destined for the fire the very first chance I got.

I had just fastened the button at the nape of my neck when Coyle swaggered in.  ‘Just to let you know, Lady Albermarle doesn’t let any of her whores out to wander on a work night.’  He waved my room key in front of my face.  ‘Protectin’ her investment and all that.  As soon as I’ve checked you’re nice and safe behind a locked door, I’m gonna do the same for your pet fag.  Maybe see how his ribs are holding up, if I get a spare five minutes.’

I ignored him and concentrated on keeping my breathing steady.  I was still terrified of the man, and there was a new strangeness in his eyes as he grinned at me; something not right, as if he could no longer pretend to be human.  A muscle flickered in his jaw, and the veins in his neck bulged as though they could burst open at any moment. 

He stepped even closer and looked me up and down.   ‘Not bad.  Nice arse, shame about the tits.  Kinda wish I’d known you were gonna be part of the floorshow.  Maybe I’d have saved up my pocket money and given myself a Christmas treat, eh?’  His breath was hot and rank, sour with stale alcohol.  He held up the fingers he’d used to assault me and ran them softly down my cheek. ‘I’d split you in two this time, sweetheart,’ he murmured, and kissed me softly on my bare shoulder.  Just as I thought I might scream, he stepped away.  There was a rattle of keys, then a soft click, and I was now officially
Blaine
’s possession, kept securely in my place until needed. 

That sour reek lingered, even though he’d gone.   I rattled at the French doors, but they were locked, too.  In desperation, I dragged a chair over and stood on it to open the top window. I stuck my head through the gap and let the freezing air replace the pollution Coyle had brought with him.

That was when I heard the voice coming from the room next to mine.  Just a few words, muffled by snow and distance, and snatched away by the wind before I could make sense of them, but enough to knock the breath back out of me.  Enough to shatter all our plans into a thousand pieces.

I looked at my watch.  Only half an hour to go, and then I’d have no chance of doing anything.  ‘Oh, shit fuck and
buggery
,’ I hissed, and jumped off the chair.  I grabbed my discarded tracksuit pants and sweatshirt and pulled them on over my ridiculous excuse for a dress, shoved my bare feet into trainers, then scribbled a few hurried lines on a sheet of watermarked Albermarle notepaper.  I folded it and tucked it deep into the sweatshirt pocket, and clambered back onto the chair.

Apparently there was still every chance that Albermarle Hall would kill me, this time from a broken neck.  I grabbed the sill of the open window, and hauled myself up and through the tiny gap.  The blizzard whirled around me, hiding my movements and silencing the impact as I rolled onto the terrace outside my quarters.  I grabbed the ivy that clung to the ancient brickwork, and began to climb.

Twenty vertical feet of scrabbling, hauling and cursing got me to the first floor balcony directly above my quarters.   I pulled at the door with numb fingers; as I’d hoped,
Blaine
didn’t anticipate any burglars making a trip across the lake for the family silver and it swung open onto a dark and empty guestroom, although by that point I was prepared to kick out the glass with my foot and hide any evidence behind the curtain.

I crept along the upper hallway until I reached the minstrel’s gallery where I’d hidden and sketched, all those months ago.  A scattering of assorted perverts were already gathered in the hall,  mingling and exchanging smalltalk over canapés and champagne.  Some I recognised – Maxwell was shoving petits fours into his mouth like this was his last supper, and Laura Fenworth had obviously overcome her initial horror to make a return – and others were new faces to me.  I hated them all equally.