Passionate Pleasures (15 page)

“I’ve met your brother,” he told her.

“You have? When on earth did you meet Hallock?”

“Your nephew is being a disciplinary problem this year. I had to call his parents in to speak with them. Your sister-in-law did not come. Indisposed, your brother said, and then he went on to tell me how the teachers were all handling Hallock the Sixth badly.”

“Of course,” Kathryn said. “St. Johns are never wrong. It’s everyone else who is wrong. I’m sorry you got your baptism of fire so soon.”

“I’ve met men like your brother before, Kathy. Rich men from old families are either the salt of the earth or they are a pain in the ass. Your brother falls into the latter category. However, I appealed to his ego. I told him I had complete faith in my teaching staff; but neither did I believe that his son was incorrigible. The problem lay in the fact that Hallock the Sixth didn’t fully understand that he has a vast responsibility, coming from a family with such an esteemed background. Like most boys his age he is rambunctious. I told your brother that as a busy man, he probably hadn’t realized the lad had reached the age where he needed to be taught that as a St. John he not only had privileges, but a duty to be an example to others as well.”

Kathryn choked on her ice cream. “Oh my God, you really do know how to reach people like my brother. You sandbagged him, and I’ll bet he sat there nodding in agreement with you because he didn’t know it. What was the upshot?”

“He said he hadn’t thought the boy was old enough for those lessons, but then children did mature more quickly today. Then he said Hallock would mend his ways immediately if not forthwith. Finally he shook my hand, and said that while he hadn’t been in favor of hiring me, he thought I was proving to be quite satisfactory. That he would look forward to working with me,” Tim concluded.

“And my
rambunctious
nephew?”

“Has toned down his behavior,” Tim said.

Kathryn laughed. “Well played, grasshopper,” she said.

Tim stood up. “I think I had better get going while there is someone still up to verify that I didn’t spend the night.”

“Ah, you’re catching on.” She chuckled.

“What time tomorrow?” he asked her.

“I’m not working tomorrow, so how about noon? That way I get to sleep in.”

“You don’t get to sleep in when you have a dog,” Tim told her. “Would you mind if I brought Rowdy?”

“No, not at all,” Kathryn replied as she escorted him to the door. “It was lovely, Tim. Thanks so much.”

“Back atcha, Kathy. See you tomorrow.” The door shut behind him, and he heard her turn the bolt. It had been a surprising evening. The first time he had seen her he had been smitten. Tall, lean, and that red-gold hair. The pink sweater she had worn tonight fascinated him. He hadn’t figured Kathy St. John for a woman with a soft pink sweater. It had certainly shown off her round breasts to perfection. He had wanted to touch those breasts, and thinking about them now made him hard. Since Phoebe’s death he hadn’t had such a reaction to a woman.

Some of the younger and prettier single teachers at Kensington had, after what they believed was a suitable period, tried to attract him. He just wasn’t interested. It was after the twenty-five-year-old French teacher had attempted to cajole him into taking her to a school function when one of the widowed teachers in the English department had stepped in to to save him. “Sorry, dear, but he’s mine. Mr. Blair has kindly offered to escort me.” The French teacher had gone away defeated, and he had thanked his savior. After that, he always asked one of the older women to accompany him to these functions.

And then he had come to Egret Pointe and met the town librarian. And he wanted to date her. Hell! He wanted to kiss her, and caress her, and fuck her. It wasn’t natural for anyone, man or woman, to remain celibate. It had to be unhealthy. But would he eventually be able to cajole Kathy into bed? Judging from Hallock St. John V’s large brood, St. Johns obviously appreciated sex. Hallock V was a married man, however. His sister was a different matter. God, was she a virgin? A real spinster? Mavis Peabody would know, and damn, he was going to find out before he made the wrong move.

Kathryn peeped through the window in her front door, watching him go off across the garden. She hadn’t lied when she told him that she had had a good time. She had. It had been nice to get out for an evening. And she was going out with him tomorrow. In broad daylight. To a town function. Oh, there was going to be talk. She chuckled. Yes, by Saturday night she and Timothy Blair would be the talk of Egret Pointe.

But first she was going to enjoy an adventure with her barbarian in The Channel. She made certain the cottage was locked up, then hurried upstairs to bathe and get into bed. Now that she had decided the barbarian with Tim’s face wasn’t going to bother her, let the games begin. Picking up the remote, she pressed the F button and found herself, not in Temur’s tent, but in an elevator, the interior of which was polished pecan wood. There was a mirror in the rear of the elevator, and beneath it was a small red leather bench. A little crystal chandelier hung from the elevator’s ceiling.

“Going down,” said a voice she recognized as The Channel’s.

Oh my God! She had gotten into bed naked. But then she realized she was wearing her pale gray slacks and a white cashmere-and-wool turtleneck. Her pink suede slippers, which were lined in lamb’s wool, were on her feet. She heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn’t feel any motion until the elevator stopped with a gentle bump. The bronze doors opened without a sound, and Kathryn St. John found herself facing a pretty young girl with short blond hair wearing a neat light blue wool suit.

“Miss Kathy? Hi, I’m Carol, Mr. Nicholas’s second assistant. Please come with me. He wants to see you.” She turned and Kathryn followed, stepping into a big room with pale, creamy carpet so deep she sank into it. She took a quick look about her. The lower halves of the walls were paneled. The upper halves were papered in a large elegant floral, mostly in greens, cream, and coral. Gazing up, she saw the room had a coffered oak ceiling. One side of the room was a seating reception area with a couch upholstered in gold silk brocade, a row of matching chairs, and a mahogany coffee table.

On the other side of the room there were two beautiful mahogany desks with matching workstations and chairs. On the opposite side of the room was a third desk. Seeing them approaching, another woman got up from the single desk. She was a motherly, elegant woman with a young face and snow-white hair. She was dressed in a violet-colored wrap dress. “Miss Kathy, I’m Elizabeth, Mr. Nicholas’s personal assistant. Thank you, Carol. Please come this way, Miss Kathy. He’s looking forward to seeing you.” She led Kathryn through a pair of carved and paneled mahogany doors. “Mr. Nicholas, Miss Kathy is here,” she said, and then withdrew.

He came forward, both hands outstretched in greeting. “Kathy, my dear, how delightful to see you. Do come and sit down.” His voice held just the hint of a cultured British accent. He gestured her toward a mulberry-colored velvet brocade couch.

“Don’t you ever change?” Kathryn asked him. He was exactly as she remembered him. A man of middle years, medium height with dark eyes, and wavy silver-gray hair.

He chuckled. “My dear, you are one of the few people who know who I really am,” he told her. “I remain as always.”

She shook her head. “As charming as ever, Nicholas. Tell me, why did you seduce me all those years ago? I have always wondered, and of course then I didn’t have the courage to ask you. Besides, I was flattered that you even noticed me.”

“You were young and delicious, and someone had to take your virginity, Kathy. I could not bear the thought it would be some awkward boy,” he told her. “You were too fine for that. But I have not asked you here today to discuss old times, as pleasant as it is for me to do so, for you have matured like a fine wine into a beautiful woman of a certain age, who is even more irresistible today than you were as a dewy girl.”

“You were not programmed into my remote, Nicholas,” Kathryn said. “I was looking forward to an evening with my barbarian.”

“There will be no more evenings with Temur, or your musketeers, your highwayman, Tom Jones or Senator Flavian, or Consul Tiberius. I am revoking your privileges in The Channel, Kathy,” Mr. Nicholas said quietly. Then, reaching toward her, he proffered a goblet of red wine.

She took it, and drank half of it down. She was in shock. “What have I done, Nicholas?” she said. Her voice was trembling.

He took her other hand in his and patted it comfortingly. “You have done nothing wrong, Kathy,” Mr. Nicholas said. “But allow me to explain.”

“Please do!” she said sharply.

Mr. Nicholas laughed. “Ah, there is that quick burst of temper you usually control so well. I’m glad to see it’s still there. Kathy, you know what The Channel is. It is a lure, a trap if you will, to entice certain souls into my control. My nephew, Fyfe MacKay, thinks it is a waste of resources, but it isn’t. Women are a very valuable commodity, and have been ever since time as you know it began. If I cull one useful soul out of every hundred thousand subscribers, I consider it a victory. And I have harvested two souls here in Egret Pointe alone, which I think is amazing. I had hoped to have your soul, my dear, but I realize now I will not gain it. What is weakness in the moral structure of the St. John men is not apparent in the females of that family.

“When you helped me introduce The Channel to the ladies of Egret Pointe, I rewarded you with a special remote that could program six fantasies, unlike the average remote that can only contain two. Most women have a tendency to grow bored with The Channel after a time and leave it. But you have remained for years. I do not have another subscriber who has been with me as long. You have made a life that contains but two elements: your work, and the fantasies you play out in The Channel.

“Fyfe says I have a weakness where you are concerned, and perhaps he is right. My nature, as you know, is very warm, and creatures of your kind do not usually retain my affections, but you have. There is more to life, Kathy, than what you have made of it. It is past time that you faced the reality of passion. The charming Mr. Blair quite lusts after you, my dear, and while you have not admitted it yet, you lust after him.”

“I don’t!” Kathryn St. John denied. “I most certainly do not!”

“Then why do your lovers in The Channel suddenly all bear his face?” Mr. Nicholas asked her.

“I thought there was a short in my remote,” Kathryn said. She drank the rest of her wine down, and the goblet automatically refilled itself.

“Come now, my dear, you didn’t really believe such a thing for a single moment.” Mr. Nicholas chuckled. “You have always been a terrible liar, Kathy.”

“And you have always been an excellent one,” she replied. “I remember how you lied to my grandfather and father that first time you brought me home late. Your car had had a flat tire, and your chauffeur backed you up.”

“Your grandfather and your father both knew what I was about,” he said, shocking her. “I had their permission to take your virginity and briefly make you my mistress. The St. John patriarchs have always been willing to deal with me in exchange for their good fortune, my dear.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Kathryn St. John said candidly.

Mr. Nicholas laughed and shook his head. “Alas, my dear, you won’t be, although
they
were. And I shall have your brother too, in exchange for finding him the perfect wife; and your nephew shows great possibilities, Kathy.”

“Please, Nicholas, don’t take The Channel away from me,” she said. “It’s all I really have, except for the library.”

“You could have Timothy Blair if you chose, Kathy, and you should choose. I understand that you don’t want to be controlled by men the way your grandfather and your father controlled you, the way your brother attempts to interfere in your life. You want to be an independent woman. It is not impossible for you to be one, and still love a man. Your life is not a normal one, although it may appear so to those around you who think of you as this St. John generation’s old maid librarian.”

“I am not a girl, Nicholas,” Kathryn said softly.

“No, you are not, but neither do you look your age—nor will you ever. You will age slowly and quite well, Kathy. I did not realize that by giving you the six-button remote you would enjoy The Channel so very much. The idea was to tempt you to the dark side, but I’m afraid you are just too nice a woman,” Mr. Nicholas said, his tone almost disapproving. “Everyone likes you. Your staff, your family and friends. Indeed, everyone with whom you come in contact. You serve your church”—and here he shuddered slightly—“and the charity your family founded for single mothers quite, quite well. You are generous to a fault with your own money. You forgive library fines when you think it expedient. You are simply too good, Kathy, and you have reached a point where you are unlikely to change. You can be of no further use to me.”

“You are being cruel!” Kathryn cried.

He smiled. “Yes, I am, aren’t I?” he said.

“Please,” she pleaded, ashamed to be doing so.

“If you want to be fucked from now on, my dear, you shall have to succumb to your schoolmaster’s charms, Kathy. I can tell you you won’t be disappointed. Your imagination with Temur is more truth than fiction.” He chuckled. “And if it will make you feel any better about this situation, I can tell you that he enjoys games, or at least he did with his late fiancée,” Mr. Nicholas said.

“I don’t know how to behave with a real man,” Kathryn said.

“Of course you do,” he told her. “If I may use a human expression, it’s like riding a bicycle. You may not have done it for years, but once you get back on it, it all comes back naturally, Kathy. It’s not like you to be afraid, my dear.”

“I am not afraid!” she insisted.

“Yes, you are,” he responded. “You are afraid of not being in control of the situation, and indeed there will be some times when you are not in control; but the reverse will be true for him. There will be times when you have the upper hand, and times when he does. That is nothing to be frightened of, Kathy. Passion is both give and take.”