Chapter 73

Part 3

"Your skin like alabaster,

I imagined you under the moonlight,

you being one of the forest nymphs coming out at night,

stealing souls..."

Alice read the inscription that Christian had written behind one of the sketches of her. He stared at her as she read with a look of bewilderment. She stared at him, feeling her patience wearing thin.

"Stealing souls... Christian?"

"I know my world is something exotic to you, darling, but what you read is called poetic license." Christian had raised the walls again. A posh prick like the next one who looked at her kind and thought they were dealing with savages .

Acting like a colossal dick to Alice. But she already knew his ways by now. What did she want there? Really? She had been annoyed with him. Having kept her hot and cold, ever since her big mess with the Lord Wooster's mansion robbery, and the infamous by now incident of asking her to stab him.

There were times he was showing her he cared for her, wanted her, desired her,

Loved her...?

Certainly, she got the feeling she meant more to him, than just being a chess piece he liked to play against MacDonald.

And then other times, like now for example, he dealt with her like she was some kind of trash he did not even want to soil his shoes with. He left like a ghost in the morning, just so he did not have to face her.

"Stop acting like a pretentious cunt, Chris and tell me you have feelings for me. Be a man and admit it." She didn't budge, not even flinch to his offensive remarks.

He had rolled a cigarette and was smoking it, looking at her through the smoke he exhaled. He kept her waiting for a couple of drags. Picked up a piece of tobacco from the edge of his tongue.

"There is nothing to admit, sweetheart. We fucked a couple of times-

"We did more than that, Chris, stop bloody denying it!" She pushed him. He took a step back, looking angry.

Christian had taken the role of the asshole as he had done plenty of times by now, with Alice. Every time he had to resort into this role with her, it became more and more difficult for him to do so. Even if at the beginning, his distain for Alice had been very real. She had been the face of the world that had him trapped; laughing at him for having been so stupid to think of himself as being above all of them. Being like another fucking Robin Hood when all he did actually, wasn't too dissimilar from what they did. That was the truth that Alice showed him. He hated her for that. Did not want to have anything to do with her.

And yet, here they were, the two of them. What good would it served them, if they started talking about feelings? If he opened his heart to her... A day before attempting his biggest burglary yet, while having MacDonald on their case. Threatening him about Rose and Terry, having them followed. And he had involved Shaw at the same time, playing everyone against each other, anticipating everyone's moves, while hoping that this crazy plan works and there is a small chance he can get out of this mess alive.

To leave all behind

To disappear

To be free

The drawings he left her should have been enough. But no! The mighty Queen of the Forty Thieves demanded to know. She pushed him to bare everything to her. Not content of having his body but wanted more. She had to have his soul as well.

Bloody Hell! Christian was not prepared for such concessions.

Not to her,

not to anyone,

not under the circumstances that were at present.

"Listen, believe what you may, love, I'm not who you imagine. I don't know what you created in that crazy head of yours, Charlie didn't keep your fanny happy and I gave it some extra pleasure, after all you're his broad and it's all for the boss, right? I kept his woman, warm, fed, and extra satisfied and now, it's time for you to go back. There is no knight in a fucking armour here, alright?"

He picked up the sketches, rattled the pages to her face. " I'm a painter, thus I paint! Get it?" The cigarette hung from his lips, giving her a bad-boy smile. "You're not the first, you won't be the last."

Christian pushed her as far as away from him as possible with his act, but he hadn't realised she was armed, even it was the bread knife. He only saw a flash of metal, she was that quick. She managed to cut into his arm, having raised it up in the air, to protect himself.

"You're fucking crazy woman!" He shouted at her seeing the blood starting to spread on his shirt. He put his arm down. The blood travelled the length of his hand, dripped from his fingers on his sketches of her.

She grabbed them, took them away from him. "Oh really? Where is the fucking Raven? Hmmm?!"

"Stab me, Alice..." She mocked him, pretending she was him.

He growled. Let a sound so guttural and deep, it felt it came from the dark depths of his soul. She infuriated him to the point of murder and it looked like he had the same effect to her. A relationship with Alice...? Most probably, they would end up killing each other. In the most torturing way. Throw the Titanic onto that iceberg head on and put fire on it at the same time.

Threw the cigarette inside the kitchen sink and pulled her to him, with gritted teeth, he thought he'd break them and a stare full of daggers. Got hold of her face, squeezed her pale cheeks with his bloodied fingers. He grabbed her hair with his other hand, having her head locked and completely still between his hands. His lips hovered over hers,

close

so close,

stroked hers like a feather, his breaths hot on them,

caused all kinds of havoc inside her

closed her eyes,

waited for the moment he'd assault her mouth in the most brutal, violent kiss, her lips parted...

"No Alice..." She heard him whisper. "We ended the moment we came back here. Charles knows... I can't give you what you want, even if I wanted- "

He released her. His confession threw her off. "Knows what?"

He rolled his bloodied shirt up, turned the water tap and put his injured arm under the running water. Let it for a good half minute to wash the blood away. The cut wasn't that deep.

"He suspects that you and I..."

He said to her while he took the kitchen towel and wrapped it round the wound, to make a bandage. Stretched his arm towards her to help him. Her stare softened. So was his. She tied the two corners of the towel into a knot.

"Whether you want to go back or not to him or not, I'm not pressuring you. It's up to you. Be careful though..." His voice deepened. He felt emotional after all that. Alice had that power on him. Shaking him, his feelings, his thoughts, his beliefs. Made him say and do things he never thought possible for him to say or do.

"But for us, we part ways here, Alice. Don't push this any further."

He didn't get to say anything else. She fell on him, her whole body slammed on his, so unexpectedly, he lost his balance and he would have fallen if the wall hadn't been behind him to stop him. Kissed him, like she wanted to kiss him since she'd seen those drawings he had left her. Unafraid to show him how much he had affected her. How much she came to love him.

He didn't resist. He let her completely free. Her kiss smelled metallic, smelled of the blood smears on her cheeks. Her lips rubbed hard against his, he felt her tongue deep inside his mouth,

Tasting him,

Stealing his breath,

Stealing his soul...

"I know you have your plan, but Charles has been in this world since he was born. So I beg you to consider well what you're doing Christian and please take care of yourself." She said to him with a voice full of what she felt for him. "And don't worry of me... I know you won't agree with me, but." She paused and bit her lip as if thinking whether to say the next few words or not, "I would not change a thing from what happened between us." She said.

He held her face between his hands. Held her stare with his. She wiped off with her fingers her cheeks clean. She shoved the bloodied drawings inside her bag and left, without any other word said.

Christian remained still. That last kiss replayed in his mind. He rubbed his face. He had no idea whether he'd see her or not again. Having said goodbye to Alice, found himself with eyes that sparkled. Took a deep breath, wiped the moisture away and left the kitchen. He was going to enjoy a pint somewhere. Nicholas was to join him. His friend didn't help but notice the bandaged arm with the kitchen towel.

"Accident." Christian mumbled, pushed his arms through his jacket and they left the National Gallery behind.

Alice came out the taxi. It was a mellow evening. Took a deep breath in and thought she had missed the London air. The stuffiness of the city, the green grass from its parks, the muddy smell from river Thames, petrol fumes and road dust warmed up by the heat radiating from the stone buildings, food smells and cooking oils wafting out of chip shops and curry houses mixed with stale lager.

She stood in front of Charlie's impressive town house, and didn't move for a good few minutes. Even then, having taken her decision, she hadn't felt relief. There was no weight lifted from her shoulders. A decision was a decision however. There was no use to continue feeling anxious about it. She, after all, had gone through life so far by having learned of thinking on her feet, taking fast decisions and finding ways to deal with the consequences after. She and Christian had that in common. Deciding first and dealing with consequences after.

She had gone to her house, once she had left him.

Having craved some normality, she did normal things, as if everything that happened for the past month and a half between her and Christian had been nothing but a dream. It hadn't really happened. It was better this way. He had told her time and time again, they did not have a future together. Even if she thought otherwise, she hadn't been able to persuade him. Reason was that she had fallen hard and fast for him, but the feelings weren't reciprocated. At least not with the intensity of her own, because there was no denying, there had been something there from his part. He, however, already was on the path he had taken, adamant he had to travel it alone with no room for a companion.

She did chores around her house, cooked, washed, kept busy. Busy enough so she couldn't think. Push back the decision time as much as she could. Come late afternoon, she knew that was it. She could not postpone it any further. She weighed everything in her mind. The good and the bad. The important and the superficial.

And there she was. All dolled up, standing in front of Charlie's house. She went up the stairs and knocked at the door, even if she had a key. Charlie's housekeeper answered her knock.

"Hi Beth..." Alice said with a smile.

The woman looked surprised, very surprised, if judged by the sudden flash of her stare when their eye met.

"Miss Diamond!"

Alice chuckled. "I am not a ghost, don't worry." She replied, making fun of the housekeeper's surprise, "Can I come in?"

"Oh, yes, but of course! Please do come in." She replied, once she surpassed her first reaction of seeing Alice there. It had been a while since the last time she had seen her boss's girlfriend being there and she had heard him on the phone, sounding not happy at all not knowing Alice's whereabouts.

"Master isn't-" She added, as Alice came in the house.

She looked around. It was as if she hadn't left at all.

"Here." She finished the woman's sentence. "I know, Beth." She added. "I want to surprise him..."

She winked to the housekeeper, wanting to make her, her accomplish to her "surprise" return. "Just don't tell your boss if you see him when he comes."

The woman gave her a restrained smile. She didn't really want to keep things from her boss, but since it came from his girlfriend, she wasn't going to oppose it.

"Whatever you say, Miss Diamond."

Alice smiled back. She got her jacket off and let herself inside his study. Poured herself a generous shot of whiskey inside a heavy crystal tumbler and let herself fall on his leather chair by his desk. It smelled of him. Goosebumps travelled up her spine. She raised her glass.

"For Black Feathers and sunny weathers" She said to herself the phrase she had heard Billy say, with a look on her face being somewhere else. Downed the whiskey. Tears filled her hazel eyes. She closed them to avoid ruining her eyeliner. There was time for a few more drinks till Charlie was to return home...

She had placed all the broken pieces of porcelain inside the sink. Had thrown the broken porcelain figurines that could not be saved. She would have to apologise and cover for the cost to Mrs. Burns. The glazed blue pieces from the vase though, she could do something with them. With Terry gone, this idea had lodged inside her mind. She could save the vase, repair it. Glue its pieces together.

She didn't know why, but she had taken the idea as her mission.

It wasn't easy being on the verge of tears the whole day. The vase pieces in her hands turned into blue smudges with no edges, no life. It was crazy of course. Having taken it in her heart with such importance, to repair the vase, as if it had been something alive that needed rescuing.

She checked the time. It came almost to eleven at night. Waves of worry made her sick to her stomach. She had opened the door several times but no one was standing there. The wind had picked up. Made the clouds on the night sky to float like curtains blown by the wind illuminated in front of the full moon.

Each little noise made her stop what she was doing and take notice. She heard the engine of a car close by. Then quiet... Her heart beat accelerated. She felt the anxiety to the tips of her fingers.

She rushed to the door and opened it.

Terry...

Came face to face with an unknown man, tall, heavy built, the likes of which you change pavement when you happen to see them while walking during the night.

"Wrong name." The man said with a rough sounding voice.

It all happened so fast, it was a blur. Because she took a step back, hoping she'd manage to close the door with as much speed and force as she could gather, but she simply wasn't a match for this man. Having anticipated her move, the thug put his foot down and the door banged against it and flew wide open as a result. Candy panicked. She run back inside the house, towards the kitchen hoping to get a knife. The man was quick to react. Grabbed her left arm and pulled her towards him.

Candy caught one of the broken porcelain pieces from the sink. She kept it inside the palm of her free hand. In sheer fight or flight moment, she chose to fight. Before she was going to be immobilised completely, she swung her body forward and fell towards him; raised her hand and slashed with the porcelain the arm he was holding her with.

He flinched, more because of not having expected Candy to do that, rather than by the actual cut. Her sudden move proved enough to lessen his grip. Realising that was her chance, Candy dived forward and managed to release herself from his grip. A brief standoff followed between her and the thug. They measured each other while standing on opposite sides of the table, each being on edge, waiting who was going to move first. She threatened him with the bloody porcelain piece, still in her hand.

"Don't come close!" She warned him.

The man didn't answer back. "Please, go. There is nothing for you here." She said to him, her voice vibrated in her throat. She shook up.

"If you're wise, you come with me, without struggle missus." He replied. He sounded as if he had come to pick up a sack of potatoes. That kind of a man, must had done these things, plenty of times.

She shivered to the thought, realised how stupid and non-threatening she must have looked to him. She was like a third of his size, holding a piece of a broken fucking vase, asking him not to come close.

Who was that man? Why was he here? What did he want from her? Did this have anything to do with Christian? She had no time to answer any of those questions that kept popping in her mind like fireflies.

The front door behind him was still open. She could make a dash, if she was fast enough. She threw the piece of the porcelain to him with as much force she had in her. It worked. For a split of a second she caught the man off guard as the porcelain flew towards its target, and Candy burst like a bullet towards the door. Forget the fight. It was flight or nothing.

She reached the door, just enough to smell the fresh air of the ocean, enough to feel her heart on her mouth, bursting with adrenaline, hoping she may just make it. She made one more step and suddenly her feet walked on air. She felt his grip at her back. He had reached her. Dragged her towards him, like dragging a rag doll over the floor. She kicked furiously and screamed. Fought against him, trying to free herself.

"Why don't you stop, and just come with me, and you won't be harmed." The man said, this time sounding a little hoarser. He hadn't expected her to put up such a fight.

Already knew she was all alone. Having seen the bloke she was with, drinking alone at the "Castle".

Charlie wanted the lassie taken. To keep her as collateral against Christian because he never trusted that fucking prick as he had said. He had been one of those wise asses who thought that they were more clever than him. Those were the worse. He hadn't denied it; the Raven being good at what he did and not only that, but Christian may had been closest that anyone in making Charlie doubt himself. There was a certain degree of admiration towards Christian. But he needed breaking. And that's what Charlie intended to do. Only by taking what was most precious to him, he would break Christian. And that meant, kidnap Rose, just as Christian had taken Alice. Even if Alice's kidnapping looked like having been much more pleasurable for both parties involved, but that was another matter. At present, his orders were clear.

"Get that girl. Bring her to me."

MacDonald's man brought Candy to the car. Opened the door. Pushed her to get in. The moment she did, he closed the door and walked towards the driver's seat. He came in. "Do anything stupid, like yelling or trying to escape and I really won't hesitate to shoot you, boss's orders." He said to her and flashed his piece that was tucked under his belt, behind his jacket. He looked at her straight in her eyes when he said that. Making sure she understood. By the fear he recognised inside her big green eyes, he knew she did. He switched the engine on and left for the town.

It was a little after twelve midnight when Terry was returning to the cottage.

He had spent the entire day away from her. He dreaded having to see her, after what had happened between them earlier. He did not want to face her.

What could he say to her, when in fact he, himself, had reached no decision?

No conclusion had he found to this dramatic turn of events, which brought him face to face with a truth he had never contemplated, nor he had ever thought possible. And how could he reach anything concrete inside his mind within the space of a mere day, where the wind had not died down and thoughts and feelings kept being restless, continuously moving, continuously changing.

That cursed day had seemed to drag on forever. A day without ending, without relief. Found himself with a twin brother in the face of his rival. The man he had come to hate for having claimed as his, the woman Terry quietly loved for all his adult life. And when he heard her say she loved him, a love he readily confessed back to her, out loud and with every fibre of his being, it was as if the winter he had lived in for years, had finally lifted.

How fragile she must had thought of that love, Terry thought,

to keep Christian's identity locked inside that letter for a week, instead of trusting him, to tell him such a life-changing truth, earlier. It was of course a bitter irony, that he had behaved exactly how she had expected him to behave, but not because of the actual nature of the revelation -

even if it had to be said,

the news bore down on him and his soul with the weight of a giant boulder; on his conscience more than anything, because the man may had been someone Terry never knew his existence of merely two months ago, nevertheless the fact that he had reported Christian to the police, an act driven by just vengeful drunkenness, had already caused him feelings of guilt. Even more so now that he had learned, this man who, Terry had felt a connection, without managing to put his finger upon, and had only excused it as compatibility of characters,

Yes

Terry had reported his own brother...

as said, it bore down on him with the weight of a giant boulder. Crashed under the guilt like an ant would be.

No, it wasn't the nature of the secret per se, that made Terry fly off the handle in such a spectacular way with Candy. It was the knowledge of her fear towards him. How could he be with any woman,

the woman he had worshipped none other than,

and have that woman fear him... not trust him. Hide things from him. Create a fake rosy picture of a relationship and sweep all the problems under the carpet, just because she's worried of how he'd react.

He wasn't a saint and had already said that to her, early on. Far from it. He wasn't perfect. By a long shot. But he was willing to change and try be a better man. Candy though, had already boxed him and labelled him as "difficult", "handle-with-care".

Don't wedding vows say- For better and for worse?

How would he feel if he lived his life with Candy, only one day to find out, she bore all the worse, acting like a shield for him, just so to think life was only the "better" stuff, without the hardship? He would have hated himself. He didn't want another Susanna, who said one thing and thought of another, and the fact that Candy had behaved so similar to her... truly had left him without knowing what to say or how to continue.

Like a curse, he wandered the island alone.

If he could have stayed somewhere else, he would. But he had to go back to her. They would take the boat back early in the morning. He was desperate to return to London. Find that woman. Find Christian. Find him before... That sinking feeling again resurfaced; he could not shift it every time he thought of him. Had this newfound knowledge about him being his brother made him worry more or fate was telling him something? He wasn't a stranger to tragedies.

He felt weary. His feet had brought him in late afternoon at the Castlebay promenade. If the weather had been better, he'd take the Dreamer and lose himself out in the sea for a few hours. But enquired about it, he did, and the weather was quite changeable that day. The man who had given him the boat twice before, he wasn't happy to let him go with that weather. Not that he didn't trust his skills, but the waters sometimes had their own agenda. And he was not willing to risk it.

He left and instead entered the "Castle" a pub right at the front of the seaside promenade of Castlebay. Its crowd was mostly seamen. Tall, large boned, tough-skinned people, most of them with family lines back to the Vikings, the salt of the sea having carved their faces, hands the size of oars. They looked mildly curious about this soft, posh young lad who had entered the place, having been battered by the elements, with his damp clothes, wild hair and face whipped by the wind, his blue eyes looked like the seas they were used to travel,

restless...

Terry kept himself to himself. Took a seat by the bar, at its very end, having a vantage point from where he could see everyone inside the pub. Not that he cared. He had lifted his eyes every now and then, and let them rest on nowhere and nobody in particular. It was a position he had mastered during his stays at the bar haunts he frequented, usually after having finished a play, while he lived with Susanna in New York. Stayed there, without saying much, even if some people tried to strike up a conversation with him.

Where he was from

What was he doing there

Was he really a theatre actor

He didn't divulge details. Just spending a few days with his wife, having visited from London, being on a break. That sort of thing. A younger Terry would have been much more ruder than this. Perhaps even start a fight but he had tried hard to leave that Terry behind. He hadn't transformed himself into a social butterfly or a chatterbox by all means, with other people, but he had stopped trying to bite their heads off too. Most of them were just curious of his sad appearance over at the edge of the bar. Especially the pub lord who having been more concerned than the rest, when he closed the joint, he gave him a lift home.

"A good night's sleep, it'll do ye fine, ye'll see."

Terry looked worse for wear in a very obvious way, having consumed more than his fair share of whiskey rounds through the evening.

"Everything is solved lad. Remember that. Nothing is as bad as it seems."

Terry heard once more the man talking. He seemed pretty determined to play emotional councillor. He let him, having no strength to have one more fight on that particular day. What did he know anyways? How could he get over what he now knew? The latest string of thoughts had become a long line of ifs...

If he hadn't listened to Christian,he'd not know.

If he hadn't pursued her,

hadn't shared that first kiss,

hadn't driven Christian to the hospital, he wouldn't know.

If he'd kept himself to New York, he'd be miserable away from her, without knowing.

The lights were still on...

"She's waiting for ye me lad. Turn yerself sober and talk to 'er..."

Terry turned to the man. Asked him to wait for a couple of minutes to bring his wallet. Having left in such a rush from the house, he hadn't taken any money on him and he had been drinking all night without having paid a penny. Even if the man said to Terry, not to worry, Terry wasn't hearing it. It was the least he could do, given the ride and everything.

He dried his face on his shirt. Stared at the house for a moment. It was ridiculous of him to stand there like that. Ηe should just go in and make sure that he said nothing.

How come then, he felt his heart beating right in the middle of his throat? The cool evening air swept his face. He was grateful for it, the way he felt his skin burning. He breathed deeply, filled his lungs with fresh air. The splitting headache hadn't gone. At least his head was not spinning so much anymore. He took one last big breath and walked towards the house.

He turned the corner. Saw the light coming out like a beacon, from the front door. Alarm bells rung like the devil inside him, even before he confirmed the door was open.

F e a r

Have you felt real fear? The One, unleashed within a flash in time, that rises like the Minotaur from your gut, spikes your blood with its sweat, runs within the twists and turns of your mind, with nostrils that breath fire and eyes, blood red and wild, growls with teeth that gleam inside the darkness, looking for you, for your soul.

He stepped inside. The living room a mess. Furniture out of place. He stepped not something. He looked down.

A piece of broken porcelain. Blue, smeared with blood. Drops of dry blood on the rug. Fear hit him hard, so hard, it reached for his insides like a feast of steel, grabbed them and pulled them apart. He felt nauseous, out breath, his eyes blurred while he started calling her name.

Multiple times.

Checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Came out. His eyes darted from side to side, scanning the area in front of him.

Is something was to happen to Candy, because he hadn't been there...

Sweat trickled down his temples. Run round the house, down the beach, shouting to the top of his voice, while the old man looked at him, completely perplexed. He came out of the car, and walked towards the beach where Terry was.

"What happened lad?" He shouted to him.

Terry stood up. Run towards him.

"Please, old man. Drive me back to Castle Bay. At the Burns house. The police, who's policing Castlebay? Someone took her. They took her."

The words came out his mouth forced, breathless. He struggled to breath.

"Calm down lad. Calm down. Let's go back." The man turned the engine on. "Are you sure, she's not somewhere, have been somewhere on her own?"

"No." Terry whispered. He looked at the bloody porcelain piece. He wanted to cry as the panic overwhelmed him.

Christian had warned him.

Christian, Christian, Christian...

Everywhere he went and everything he did, the name of his brother was there.

He closed his eyes and tried to settle down his breathing, while his stomach twisted and turned several times already.

Candy where are you?

He wouldn't leave this island without her. Even if he turned the island upside down, he had to find her and find whoever took her.

And then,

He swore to himself to kill him...

Eleven thirty. The city was casting its shadows under the diffused silver light of the full moon on the sky of London on a night that was still young. The driver pulled over at the pavement in front of the MacDonald residence. Charles came out of the car.

You could tell, his mind was preoccupied. His goodnight to his driver came out short and quiet, for it was more of an afterthought in the middle of a situation that resembled the quietness before the storm. He rushed up the stairs and opened the door.

The jasmine scented water had turned lukewarm inside the dark gold copper bathtub.

The mix of whiskey and Veronal* in her veins had relaxed Alice, she had lost count of time. She stretched her arm in front of her. Her moves were soft and languid, slow-motioned. Reminded her of that swan she had seen in the forest river. Tilted her head sideways and gazed at her wet skin, looking mesmerised. It glowed and sparkled under the flickering orange glow of the petrol lamp inside Charles' bedroom. Though it made her think of another man. The night before, when he had carried her to his bed and for that one night only he had let her possess him, had satisfied her every want and desire she had asked of him.

Yet, she was there now. Under Charles' roof, under Charles' whims and wants, his beck and call. Christian had let her free to do what she wanted. The smile on her lips was one of surrender.

If only doing what we wanted in life...

She had to do this. Return to Charles. How long it would have to be, she did not know, but for now... it just had to be this way.

The house was dead quiet. Till she heard the keys on the front door.

Steps, his steps on the hallway.

She raised herself out the bathtub. Took a moment to feel steady on her feet. Her hands rubbed her cheeks, her fingers went through her hair. She felt sufficiently numb. It was time.

Charles entered his study. Switched on the floor lamp by his desk. Took his jacket off and loosened his tie. Rolled the sleeves of his shirt up.

It was a warm night.

Poured himself a whiskey and drunk it with one swing of the glass. Needed something to relax him before going to bed.

Monday was coming. He needed all his wits about him, if Christian was to break in the Grandchester mansion in twenty four hours from the present moment. But he couldn't go to sleep yet. He looked outside the window. The streets were quiet. Any moment now.

The phone rang.

She tiptoed down the stairs, trying to be as light as a feather. Her eyes fixated at the line of light coming from the bottom of his study door. The phone rang. His thick hoarse voice reverberated inside her, made her washed, damp, naked skin erupt into thousands of goosebumps. Smelled of jasmines.

"You have her?" Charlie said and shoved her hand inside his trousers pocket. Smiled.

"Good..."

"Did she put up a fight?" He asked, while lighting a cigarette.

"Well, drug her if you must, you don't want a cat fight in the middle of the night."

"You must leave in the morning back to Glasgow."

"Look out for coppers on the 'morrow, right?"

The door opened. He turned.

She raised her arm up the side of the door frame, let her head lean on it. Her scarlet red lips on her face half open, inviting him, the stare of a woman who knew how to seduce.

"Don't fail me..."

His voice trailed off. He let the received down without looking. His attention had all been stolen by her and her glowing alabaster nakedness, standing there like a goddess having come down from Mount Olympus. His world shrunk down to fit inside that dark door frame.

She was like a painting...

Charles felt like pinching himself. He felt aroused with desire burning deep down inside his loins.

"When have I ever...?"

She asked him, with a voice like velvet.

He came close. His eyes travelled up and down her naked body with the carnal hunger of a man who was lost and hadn't eaten for days. She thrilled him like no other woman had ever achieved to do so. He lowered his head and took her raised nipple in his mouth, wet it with his tongue, savouring her sweetness, her perfume.

"I missed you..." He whispered.

Her knees trembled. She hadn't much strength in her to stay on her feet. A deep sigh came to her lips. Closed her eyes. Behind them, she found the other, the man who had stolen her heart for some time now.

Charles swept her up. Without stopping tasting her, he went up the stairs.

"Me too, darling, me too." She replied, her fingers having lost inside his hair.

Just like the night before...

('Veronal' was the first commercially available barbiturate, sold from 1903 onwards, and was named after the Italian city of Verona.)