Devi's Paradise (22 page)

The man bowed stiffly and retired, leaving them in the vast hall. Like the exterior of the house it was painted white, a light, airy place, exactly what was required in the tropics. Soft footed male servants wearing uniform and maids in bright cotton dresses went about their tasks. Each was dark-skinned, including the butler. Joshua was distinctly uncomfortable. He hated being associated in any way with the pirates, and it was only his love for Romilly that made him agree to this charade.

As far as he could ascertain the Fenbys lived like kings and could well afford to advance the ransom money. Seven Oaks lay amidst acres of fertile land. They had crossed a river on the way, and seen the cultivated land where field hands garnered cotton and sugar, singing as they toiled. There was no sign of cruelty or neglect. It was apparent that the Fenbys were caring masters, and this encouraged Joshua to continue.

The butler returned, gazing at a point somewhere beyond their heads and announcing, ‘Her ladyship will see you now. Please come this way.’

He led them to a reception room and stood back so they might enter. It was furnished in fine style, every item sent from Europe. The French windows opened onto a patio and near them a woman reclined on a gilt-framed couch. She ordered the butler to stay within call, and when he had bowed himself out, looked her visitors up and down and then gestured imperiously to Joshua.

He approached, took her extended hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. The skin was pale, the beringed fingers bony, gripping his a fraction too long, and her bosom, revealed by the décolleté, was full though betraying signs of aging. Her elaborately dressed hair was an unnatural brown that owed much to dye and threaded through with costly pearls, and her mouth was a scarlet-painted cupid’s bow.

She’s no spring chicken, he thought, alarmed by the hungry look in her eye that spoke of her intention to act like one.

‘I’m Lady Fenby. What is your name, sir?’ Her voice was stern and she was assessing him shrewdly, paying particular interest to his crotch. He felt like a prize bull or a slave on the block at the auction.

‘Captain Joshua Willard, of the
May Belle
, at your service, madame,’ he replied, sweating under her regard.

‘Ah, yes, my brother wrote weeks ago to say that I was to expect Lady Romilly, her betrothed and friends. Where are they and what happened?’

‘Alas, we were hit by a hurricane only a day’s journey from here. The ship was wrecked and many crewmembers drowned. Did you not receive a letter concerning this?’

‘I did, sir, and took exception to its contents. What’s all this nonsense about you being captured by pirates and held captive? And who is this saucy knave who has the temerity to demand money for my niece’s safe delivery?’

‘His name is Armand Tertius, and he is known throughout the Indies. He owns an island where he rules supreme, and Lady Romilly will come to no harm as long as you accede to his wishes.’

‘So I gathered from the letter. He warned me not to take it to the authorities if I wanted to see her again.’ She rose to her feet, an intimidating woman dressed as if for a ball at Whitehall Palace. She was an aristocrat to her fingertips, regal in manner. Even Armand’s two hellions wilted under her eagle eye. ‘And these fellows? Who are they?’

‘Lieutenant Morrison, one of my officers, and Henry Moorcroft, an accountant. The other two are bodyguards.’ Clive and Henry bowed, and so did Armand’s hellions, though they had lost their swagger and looked sheepish, doffing their hats deferentially and moving them around in their big hands.

‘I have discussed the matter with Lord Fenby and he agrees to speak with you and go into the matter in detail. Meanwhile, I will accommodate you here. Don’t try anything tricky for my house servants are trained to protect myself and his lordship, chosen for their strength, agility and loyalty. You have brought identity papers or other proof of your authenticity?’

Joshua fished in one of his capacious pockets. ‘I have, my lady.’

‘Well done. You may stay and show them to me, while the rest of you follow the butler who will take you to your rooms. We’ll have supper later, by which time my husband and I will have decided on the best course of action.’

Joshua wanted to leave with the others but concern for Romilly forced him to comply. Nothing must jeopardise her safety. ‘Your ladyship is too kind,’ he murmured insincerely.

‘Not at all. Come, sit by me.’ She patted the couch then picked up a cut-glass decanter from the low table and poured drinks into crystal goblets, adding, ‘Join me in a rum punch and tell me all about England. It’s ten years since I visited, and much has happened since then. One of my sons is being educated at Oxford University, the other has bought his own plantation in Virginia and my two daughters have married into the peerage.’

‘Ah, I see,’ said Joshua, who didn’t understand why she was recounting her family history. Then he realised that she was already a little drunk. Did she start at breakfast? he wondered, having heard that it was the custom among many ex-patriots, homesick and weary of tropical paradises.

‘Do you see? I don’t think so. I hunger for London and yearn for the old house, Harding Hall, where I spent my girlhood. I even miss my brother, the Earl, though we never got on well. He wanted me to take his daughter for a while. Apparently she is disobedient and high-spirited. Is that so?’

‘Indeed yes, my lady, she is strong-minded.’

‘And beautiful?’

‘Ah yes, very beautiful.’

She picked up on his wistful tone. ‘You desire her?’ She placed a hand on his knee in an intimate fashion, stroking it through the black woollen breeches. As usual he was soberly and sensibly dressed. Armand had ordered that he be kitted out with suitable attire as befitted a master mariner on an important mission.

He tried to move his leg but she was insistent. Her grip tightened and her cheeks were flushed under the rouge, and her eyes even keener. ‘My lady, I wouldn’t presume to think of her in that way.’

‘Why not?’ Her hand was sliding higher, approaching the long finger of cock that lay along the inside of his left thigh.

‘I am not of her station. Though I usually wear a sword, it’s because I’m a sea captain, not through rank.’ Joshua was feeling decidedly uneasy.

She wasn’t completely unattractive, and also a very powerful woman, and this had a certain appeal. He’d not had the chance to make love to Romilly again and he was a young man with a young man’s needs, his cock aching for relief. But he had to go carefully; one false move and Romilly would remain Armand’s hostage and slave forever.

‘I never let rank influence me, if I see someone I want,’ observed Lady Fenby, and her hand found its goal – his penis. ‘My husband spends himself in the cunts of black women from the barracoon. There are several half-breeds with crinkly hair, light skins and the Fenby features running around our plantation. So, since I’m no longer cursed with the monthly flux, I have taken to pleasuring myself with whoever I fancy, of whatever race.’

‘What if you’re found out?’ As she edged closer Joshua started to forget her age. She smelled of rum, scented soap, exotic perfume and woman in a state of arousal.

‘My husband dare not accuse me, given his own reputation.’

‘But it’s different for men.’

‘Oh, yes, I’d not have done it earlier, but now I can no longer bear children, no one will know, or if they suspect, nothing will be done about it. The punishment for a young erring wife is severe. If she becomes pregnant and her child is born with dark skin, then it will be smothered and her Negro lover castrated, then burned alive in her sight before she is strangled. It happened to a friend of mine. There’s one law for men and one for women, and not only in the Indies.’

He picked up on her bitterness, realising that someone like her, for all her privilege, was unhappy and lonely. She needed to be loved, what with her unfaithful husband and her children scattered far and wide, their offspring denied her by distance.

‘That’s sad, my lady, but men need to know that the babies their wives produce are really their heirs, not some cuckoo planted in the nest,’ he said in mitigation.

She changed the subject. ‘Tell me more about Romilly,’ she said, refilling their glasses. ‘Does she love her betrothed or is it a marriage of convenience, as was mine?’

‘He’s a gentleman, and the alliance was planned in their infancy.’

‘I guessed as much.’ She was impatient, leaning her breasts against his shoulder, and stroking his cock. Despite his efforts, he could not stop it becoming thick and hard. ‘Is he handsome? Does he fancy women or prefer those of his own sex?’

‘I believe he loves her in his own way, and certainly wants the marriage to take place.’

‘After her dowry, no doubt. Is she still a virgin?’

Joshua didn’t want to answer this question, but said, ‘Tertius bedded her, more than once.’

‘Did he, the villain? Is he young and handsome? I like my men to be so, can’t be doing with old, balding rakes who can’t get it up. I fancy being pillaged and raped.’ And she laughed loudly, throwing herself into Joshua’s arms. He held on to her, for she was tipsy and likely to fall and hurt herself. ‘Ah, young man… lovely young man… fuck me,’ she crooned.

‘But Lady Fenby… I’m a guest in your husband’s house.’

‘To hell with that. And it’s
my
house. Paid for by
my
dot.’

‘The servants. They may see and blab.’

‘They won’t. They know where they stand. I look after them like a mother, feed them, house them, have my own doctor attend them if they’re sick and keep families together, not separating them like some owners. But if they misbehave I have them flogged. On occasions I do it myself.’ She fumbled under the couch, produced a riding whip and swished it through the air. ‘Shall I use it on you? Go on, bare your arse. Let me get at it.’

This was getting steadily worse and the more the scene disintegrated the larger Joshua’s cock became. She tugged at his belt, unbuckling it before he could stop her and her fierce need to get at his body acted as an aphrodisiac. He held her hands in his and calmed her, though his heart was thudding madly. ‘All right, my lady, be still. Let us take this slowly.’

‘Slowly be damned!’ She wrenched herself free, sprawled on the couch and lifted her skirts waist-high.

Joshua couldn’t help staring at her wide opened legs where the stockings reached the knee, her shapely legs ending in small feet encased in high-heeled shoes. She displayed an expanse of greying pubic hair that covered her mound and edged her swollen labial wings. She reached down and held them apart, showing her pink inner lips and the nubbin that stood out stiffly, large and well developed. He could smell the oceanic odour that belonged exclusively to women, and he was drawn to her, unable to control his instinctive reaction. She had dropped the whip and, without really thinking, he undid his breeches and set his phallus free.

‘Oh, what a fine specimen,’ she cried, and dragged him on top of her. He was so stiff that she didn’t need to guide him into her slippery cleft. He was there before he stopped to consider the consequences.

Romilly was blanked from memory, lost in his compulsive drive towards fulfilment. He was deaf to the voice of reason that tried ineffectively to halt him. He closed his eyes and ears to everything, concentrating on the pleasure, never mind that she was older, better bred, even dangerous should she refuse aid. He was rushing towards orgasm and only death could have stopped him.

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ Romilly said to Jessica early one morning. ‘I’ll go mad if I don’t.’

‘I know how you feel, milady.’ Jessica fiddled with the breakfast tray. ‘I’m so worried about Peter that I can’t sleep a wink.’

Distraught though Romilly might be, she had managed a meal of wheat bread and jam, coffee and orange juice. Now she stood at the window, staring out longingly as a caged bird will. The jungle stretched for miles below her, and she had been trying to map out a route, not quite sure what she intended to do if she did give her guards the slip. Sabrina had relaxed her vigilance; confident that there was no way Romilly would brave the wilds.

‘Where is she?’ She was confident that Jessica would know to whom she referred.

‘In bed with Marcus and Aponi.’

‘Let’s go.’ Romilly snatched up a wide-brimmed straw hat, a bag containing a canteen of water, a towel, a shawl and a knife that she had managed to hide.

‘Where?’ Jessica was at her side, a white coif covering her head and a wrap over her arm.

‘To swim,’ Romilly said firmly and left the room.

Armand would never have tolerated the slackness that prevailed among the men during his absence. A hush lay over the fortress and its surrounds. There were usually sentries posted, especially at the entrances, but Romilly and Jessica passed through without being challenged. Soon they were following a path that led towards the beach. It wound between escarpments and dipped into routes through the jungle, all unfamiliar and alarming, as were the animal sounds, the rustling, queer cries and the feeling of being watched. Trees towered overhead, hung with trailing orchids and inhabited by monkeys who hurled themselves, arm over arm, under the forest canopy. Jessica, terrified, was on the lookout for snakes, a stick in one hand, ready to swipe at anything that moved.