Deborah's Discovery Page 4

  Once back at her flat, Deborah turned to him with a laugh. ‘Would you like coffee? We left the restaurant in rather indecent haste!’

  ‘Sure. Do you have a proper coffee maker?’

  ‘Sorry, only instant.’

  As Deborah reached up into one of her cupboards for the jar, Pavin glanced around the room. The kitchen table was large and solid, and as she turned back to him he caught hold of her by the waist and pushed her across the table on her back, his hands sliding up the sides of her legs to pull down her leggings.

  Deborah made a token protest, but really it was what she wanted, what she needed and had needed ever since his toe had danced along her sex lips throughout their meal.

  Once the leggings and panties were off, Pavin pulled her towards the foot of the table and then lowered his head so that for the first time his mouth was covering her sex. Deborah’s hands gripped the sides of the table and she felt her labia swelling as he sucked gently on the juices that were flowing from her opening. Then his tongue darted inside her vagina and out again, curling along the silky channel between the inner lips and spreading her with her own moisture.

  He alternately licked and sucked until her hips were thrusting up at him in frantic despair as her frustrated clitoris throbbed and screamed for attention. When he still ignored it she moved a hand to it herself but he pushed her arm firmly away and exhaled very gently on the glistening bud to cool its heated pulsations.

  It seemed that he was going to keep ignoring it for ever, and then just when Deborah felt sure she’d go out of her mind with need, Pavin lightly ran the tip of his tongue along the shaft of the clitoris and when she jerked and gasped he moved one hand, held back the small hood of flesh that covered the clitoris and kept the hood back so that it couldn’t retract.

  Exposed and vulnerable, the centre of her pleasure waited and Deborah’s whole body went tense with expectation as Pavin delayed the moment of contact, then suddenly he stabbed at the clitoris again and again so that Deborah screamed aloud with the overwhelming intensity of feelings, feelings that were too much for her to bear but the clitoris couldn’t escape because he still kept the hood held back. Now, although Deborah wanted him to stop he didn’t, but instead kept flicking at the tight bunch of sensitive nerve endings so that Deborah’s orgasm was suddenly swamped by another one, one that ached and tore through her causing her whole body to thrash on the hard wooden table. She felt her stomach muscles rippling with the harsh contractions that were sending incredible darting messages to every part of her body from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes. Then she was crying out, begging him to stop because if he didn’t she felt sure that she would break into a thousand pieces.

  Finally he released the fleshy hood, the clitoris retracted and then he turned her onto her face, unzipped his trousers and a few moments later was entering her from behind. Every thrust rubbed her entire pelvic area against the table so that when he came so did she and this time when she’d finished she closed her eyes in total exhaustion.

  Pavin picked her up, carried her though into the living room and laid her down in one of the easy chairs before making the coffee himself and carrying the cups through to her as she dozed in the high-backed chair.

  ‘That was incredible!’ she murmured.

  He sat on the sofa opposite and watched her from beneath lowered lids as she smiled dreamily to herself and absently fingered her breasts where they were sore from the friction against the table top.

  ‘I’m going to be out of town for the next few days,’ he said at last. ‘Can you be ready to go by Friday week?’

  At that moment Deborah would have been ready to go with him that evening, and so she smiled and nodded without really thinking about what she was promising.

  ‘One of my men will collect you and you can fly to Glasgow together. After that it’s a plane to the Orkneys and then my helicopter will fly you to the island itself.’

  ‘Won’t you be with me?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘It doesn’t look as though that will be possible. I’ll be on the island to meet you though, that I can promise. Don’t look so worried, sweetheart, no one’s ever got lost finding their way there!’

  ‘Do you call me “honey” and “sweetheart” because you can’t remember my name or as an endearment?’ asked Deborah lightly.

  Pavin grinned. ‘A bit of both I guess. Now, I’ve got to go, Debbie. Pack a couple of cardigans, the nights are long but cool even in June. If you’ve any problems ring this number. My secretary can always contact me within an hour of your call. Okay?’

  She felt slightly bemused. ‘So that’s it, until the holiday?’

  He put a hand gently on the back of her neck. ‘You rest up, get yourself some new clothes and before you know it we’ll be together again. I can’t wait either, but sometimes even I have to work!’

  She kissed him passionately and then they parted. Only after the door had closed behind him did she begin to wonder if she was doing the right thing.

  Chapter Three

  ON THE THURSDAY before she was due to leave for the Orkney islands, Deborah rang Chrissy at home. At first Chrissy sounded guarded, but once she realised that Deborah wasn’t going to ask her for a job she became more friendly.

  ‘I don’t quite see your problem, Debs,’ she commented after hearing about the forthcoming holiday. ‘What’s worrying you?’

  ‘Well, I hardly know the man, do I! It’s one thing to have a tempestuous affair in the safety of London, and quite another to go off to some remote island and stay with a group of unknown people for two weeks. What if they’re all weirdos?’

  Chrissy hesitated. ‘Does Pavin seem the kind of man to have weird friends?’

  ‘I suppose not, it’s just that once or twice I catch him looking at me in a rather peculiar way, as though he’s trying to work out how I tick or something, and he was a bit evasive about what they actually do on this island.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Debbie! What can they do apart from go for walks, enjoy the luxury of a millionaire’s castle and make passionate love whenever they feel like it? Most girls would jump at the chance.’

  ‘But a remote island’s a bit worrying.’

  Chrissy laughed. ‘You’re not being carried off to the Far East, you’re only going to the far north of Britain! Honestly, if I were you I’d be off like a shot. From what can gather your American friend is considered quite a catch.’

  ‘I haven’t caught him, I’m just having an affair with him.’

  ‘Then enjoy it. You spent four years looking after Mick, supporting him financially and massaging his monstrous ego whenever it flagged. You deserve a break like this. As a matter of fact …’

  ‘Yes?’ asked Deborah curiously.

  Chrissy lowered her voice. ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you this because she swore me to secrecy, but since she’s now living abroad with some boring European count I don’t think it matters.’

  ‘Who is? And what doesn’t matter?’ pressed Deborah.

  ‘You remember Diane Pashley, that small girl with the fabulous figure who worked in publicity for me a couple of years ago?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, she went to stay on this island with her boyfriend just before she met her count.’

  ‘With Pavin?’ asked Deborah in amazement.

  ‘No, not with him, but it was certainly his island and he and his wife of the time were there. Diane went with someone called Brian. I never met him but Diane was dead keen. I remember that when she came back she said it was the most incredible holiday of her life but she and Brian had found they weren’t really suited. As far as I can remember she never saw him again.’

  ‘Did she say anything about Pavin?’ asked Deborah eagerly.

  ‘She certainly did. In fact, she went on about him so much that I wondered if the pair of them had had some kind of fling during the holiday and that was why she and Brian broke up, but I could be wrong. What I do know for certain is that the castle�
��s the last word in luxury, the scenery’s out of this world and you’d be stark staring mad not to go.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I would.’

  Chrissy could hear that there were still lingering doubts in her friend’s voice. ‘Tell you what, Debbie. If you don’t ring me within two days of when you’re supposed to return, I’ll alert the entire police force and Interpol for good measure, how’s that?’

  At last Deborah laughed. ‘That sounds very reassuring. I honestly don’t know why I’m worried, there’s just something I can’t put my finger on that’s bothering me.’

  ‘If what I hear’s true, Pavin will put his finger on it for you pretty damn fast!’ laughed Chrissy.

  ‘That’s none of your business!’ giggled Deborah as she hung up.

  Chrissy had put her mind at rest, and now she was ready to go. Her cases were packed, and a friend was going to come round to water her plants while she was away. Also, she had to admit that the thought of seeing Pavin again after what seemed an eternity was very exciting.

  The trouble with you is, you’ve got out of the habit of having a good time and now feel guilty about it, she told herself sternly as she got into her bed for the last time before her holiday. Go with the flow as they say! With that comforting thought she fell asleep.

  At eleven the next morning a well-built man in his late twenties, wearing a dark suit, white shirt and blue tie with a small yellow ‘P’ on it, arrived at her front door to escort her as far as Glasgow.

  He was polite, well-spoken and agreeable but when she tried to ask him anything about the island he retreated into silence, indicating with a slight shrug that he knew nothing about the place. After a time, Deborah read a book because chatty conversation didn’t seem to be his strong suit.

  Two and a half hours later they were changing planes and at last she was actually on her way to Orkney. The flight ended at the Grimsetter aerodrome by Inganess Bay. Almost as soon as she and her companion, whose name she never did learn, had left the plane she was whisked into a waiting helicopter with ‘Pavin Oil Co.’ emblazoned on its side, then strapped in and whirled into the sky on the final leg of her journey to ‘Pavinsay’ as he had named his island.

  When she’d found her courage, Deborah glanced out of the helicopter window and saw the scattering of islands dotted around the grey-blue sea, all formed over the centuries by the pounding of the waves. They were of various shapes and sizes, and none of them looked particularly hospitable. Considering that Pavin had assured her the sea was calm in summer, she thought the white caps on the waves surprising and could feel the helicopter being blown around by the wind.

  When they at last descended towards Pavinsay she saw at once the large castle looking out over the sea, exactly as he’d described it to her, but its size took her breath away.

  The landing pad was outside the castle grounds, and as the pilot helped her out, warning her to duck low, Pavin himself came striding across the greeny-brown scrubland to meet her.

  He was wearing black jeans and a black and white plaid shirt, and as Deborah was taken into his arms and enfolded in a warm bear hug she realised that although he’d seemed perfectly at home in his suits and evening dress this was probably the way he was meant to be. Despite his money and position the sheer size and presence of him demanded a rugged, outdoor setting like this island provided. Fleetingly she wondered exactly how deep his veneer of sophistication went, and whether at heart he was more primitive than she’d imagined. A shiver of excited anticipation ran through her.

  ‘How was the journey?’ he asked after he’d finished kissing her enthusiastically.

  ‘Fine, although I hadn’t expected it to be quite so windy,’ she added as a gust of wind caught her hair and blew it across her face.

  Pavin smoothed it behind her ears and then kept her face between his hands as he stared down at her. ‘You’re exactly as I remembered you, beautiful!’ he said softly. ‘The others are going to adore you.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. Does the wind ever drop?’

  He looked puzzled. ‘What? Oh, the wind. Yeah, sure it drops. This is a bit unusual for mid-summer. Not that it will bother us. The castle walls are seven feet thick, you won’t even hear it blowing. Come on, everyone else in already here and dying to meet you.’

  He turned to the co-pilot, pressed some money into his hand and within seconds the helicopter had taken off again, disappearing towards the mainland.

  ‘Don’t you keep it here?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘Hell, no. What’s the point? When I need it I call them up on the mainland. If it stayed here I’d have to put the pilots up as well, and they’re not exactly the kind we want for the holiday break!’

  He laughed, and Deborah wanted to ask him what kind of people he did want, but she was struggling to keep up with his long strides. The wind was taking her breath away and somehow she never got round to it.

  All around the castle was a red stone wall and at the entrance to the front drive stood a pair of huge wrought-iron gates with a stone eagle, wings outspread, standing on a plinth on each side. Deborah glanced up at their gaping mouths and sharp beaks and shivered again.

  ‘Cold, honey?’ Pavin’s arm rubbed briskly over her back and shoulders. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

  Still stunned by the splendour of the castle, Deborah let him lead her across the rectangle around which the main part of the castle was built. Glancing up she saw a man and woman looking down at her from a balustrade and Pavin, following the direction of her gaze, waved at them. The man waved back but the woman turned away and disappeared from view.

  ‘Paul and Tansy Woolcott,’ said Pavin by way of explanation. ‘He’s my figure man, a whizz with numbers, don’t know what I’d do without him to keep an eye on my accountants. You’ll like him.’

  ‘What about his wife?’ asked Deborah as they climbed the white steps to the heavy double oak doors that swung open beneath Pavin’s hands.

  ‘Tansy? Well, she can be difficult to take to at first but once you get to know her you’ll get on fine. She’s a bit more up-front than you British are used to!’

  Deborah didn’t answer him. She couldn’t because she was staring in astonishment at the hall in which they were standing. Everything was made of wood, from the high arching beams to the beautiful minstrel’s gallery, and antlers hung from every possible space. Old wooden chests and tables were dotted around the area while a heavy iron chandelier containing six huge candles hung suspended by three thick chains from one of the cross-beams.

  ‘It’s a reconstruction of a fourteenth-century great hall,’ said Pavin casually. ‘You can look over the place later. Right now they’re all in the blue drawing room and dying to meet you. We mustn’t keep them waiting.’

  ‘I can’t think that I matter that much!’ laughed Deborah. ‘After all, I’m here with you.’

  ‘We’re like a big family once we get to this island,’ he explained, flashing her one of his wide, reassuring smiles. ‘But don’t worry, I know you’ll fit in real well.’

  He led her through a door at the far end of the entrance hall which had been concealed by a thick embroidered curtain made to look like a wall-hanging, and then up a staircase with intricately carved bannisters in dark oak; its surrounding walls covered in swags and picture frames of white plaster that stood out against a grey-blue background that exactly matched the colour of the sea outside.

  On a half-landing there were two more doors, and one of those was slightly open. From within Deborah could hear the soft hum of voices, but as Pavin pushed it fully open the voices died away and as Deborah walked into a vast, rectangular-shaped room whose carpets, curtains and wall coverings were all of varying shades of blue, eight pairs of eyes turned towards her.

  Despite the ornate splendour of the room and the marvellous pictures and ornaments that decorated the walls and surfaces, it was the people who held Deborah rooted to the spot. For just one split second, before Pavin introduced her and they all smiled and utte
red greetings, she saw in their eyes a strange mixture of excitement, curiosity and surprise. The men all looked curious, their gaze intense and assessing while the women were unable to hide a kind of surprised astonishment that totally bewildered her. Instinctively she shrunk against Pavin, and at once his arm was round her and he was propelling her forward into the midst of the group.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you she was lovely!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Deborah, this is Paul, you saw him up on the balustrade just now, and this is his wife Tansy.’

  As Deborah took their outstretched hands and smiled at them she realised that Tansy was probably older than her husband, although with his slim build and fair boyish good looks it was quite possible that he was older than he seemed. His wife was nearly as tall as Deborah, and extremely curvaceous. Her full breasts seemed perilously close to falling out of the low-scooped neckline of her summer dress and although her waist was small her hips were rounded and extremely feminine. She had light brown hair which she wore piled up casually on top of her head, and as she greeted Deborah she managed to touch Pavin intimately on the chest at the same time.

  ‘She’s just as lovely as you said, darling. Welcome to Pavinsay, Deborah, or can we call you Debbie?’

  ‘Of course. It’s certainly a beautiful castle. I never expected it to be this big.’

  ‘Plenty more surprises in store for you yet, I can assure you!’ laughed Paul, and for a moment Deborah thought that Pavin seemed displeased by the remark because she felt his hand tighten on her arm.

  ‘I’m Brian Forster,’ said another man in a precise New England tone. ‘Welcome indeed, Debbie. We’re in need of some fresh young thing to brighten our little group.’

  Deborah remembered Chrissy mentioning that it was someone called Brian who’d taken Diane to the island a couple of years earlier and she wondered if this was the same man. He was almost exactly her height, slim and wiry with straight black hair and dark brown eyes that shone with a sharp intelligence.