The Angels' Share (20 page)

‘Tell me what you think.’

I copied Connor and swirled the whisky inside the glass. Then I dipped my nose into the vapours and inhaled, almost recoiling at the strength of the fumes. I closed my eyes to prevent them from smarting. After the initial shock, I was surprised and teased by the multitude of aromas.

When Connor sipped, so did I, drawing in the searing liquid and coating my tongue. Again, numerous tastes too foreign to define filled me and almost immediately I felt the whisky lining my throat, kissing its way through my body.

‘You like?’ Connor’s eyes glinted in the flickering light and I guessed he would see the same effect in mine. It was a magical moment.

‘Delicious,’ I said, not knowing any technical language to use. But I meant what I said.

‘Take a look at the bottle.’ Connor passed it to me and I read the label.

Glen Broath. Ailey’s Single Malt. Aged in oak for 14 years. For my Angel.

I sighed and drew a finger under my dampening eyes, laughing a little to conceal my emotion.

‘He never forgot about you. When my father retired as stillman, he gave me instructions to let it mature for as long as you were away. None of it will ever be exported. Your father wanted it kept on the island. It was the only part of you he had to hold on to, I suppose.’

‘He’d be so happy that I got to taste it then.’ I didn’t know what to say. I was overcome. ‘His angel,’ I added.

‘You were. And he was fanatical about the humidity in here and controlling the losses from the barrels, as if he might lose you all over again.’

Connor forgot he was talking to someone who knew little about whisky distilling. I tipped my head sideways, frowned and drew another sip of my whisky.
My
whisky.

‘While in the barrels, a proportion of whisky evaporates through the wood and is lost to the heavens.’ Connor gestured upwards. ‘It’s known as the angels’ share.’

I looked up at the distant rafters of the vaulted barn and suddenly it all made sense. I had been beckoned home by the angels, sent by my father. What was once a thought, my father’s thought, had now become reality. I had finally come home to claim what was rightfully mine.

‘Ready to party?’ I asked and once again my head was swimming with possibilities. At last, I was ready to confront Ethan Kinrade.

*   *   *

Fifty or so guests had already arrived but even in the time we were standing in the hallway, having our invites checked and being offered a glass of champagne, a queue of headlights formed down the long drive of Creg-ny-Varn and bizarrely dressed party-goers filtered into the house.

Again, I was overcome with emotion but fought to keep my feelings contained. How my father would have loved this colourful spectacle filling his home. As instructed, everyone had arrived in fancy dress and no expense had been spared on the outlandish and imaginative costumes. From West Indian carnival outfits with orange and green headgear to belly dancers and naughty nurses and schoolgirls, the women had surpassed themselves in a display of anonymity, because every outfit included a mask of some sort. The men were more conservative, arriving as soldiers and diplomats and cowboys, and Connor was the only king I could see. I gripped his hand tightly as we were ushered through to the Grand Hall.

‘Wow,’ I said and twirled as much as my heavy dress would allow. ‘I might hate every cell in his body but he’s done a pretty damn fine job of organising this party.’ At that moment, the music began and the sounds of a small orchestra filled the hall.

‘Would you care to dance?’ Connor didn’t wait for an answer but led me to the centre of the floor.

‘No one else is,’ I said with a giggle, almost tripping on my dress. Fortunately, I’d remembered to remove my heavy boots and socks and replace them with the red high heels, although dancing in them was going to prove tricky.

‘Then all the more reason to take to the floor.’

‘That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Connor McBryde. Your desire to be different.’

‘To be alone, more like.’ A flash of sadness in his eyes. ‘Something I’m resigned to for now.’

Several other couples had joined us in the centre of the vast room and were choosing to gallop to the polka rather than meander slowly as we were. I pressed my body against his, immediately sensing the gentle mound beneath his trousers.

‘But you’ve got Steph to…’ I trailed off and turned to stone as I heard a small ripple of applause. A number of guests were laughing and thanking and introducing and all of them used the words ‘Ethan’ or ‘Kinrade’. I reluctantly prised myself away from Connor and darted off, scanning the room in search of him.

Up until now I had doubted that he really existed, but when I caught sight of the black leather, the strapping and buckles and the tight collar around his neck, I knew that he did. I followed him through the crowds, shoving between ludicrous characters with the fast beat of the music urging me forward. For a moment I lost him even though he was taller than most of the guests. I followed the greetings that tracked his passage through the Grand Hall and, my heart exploding beneath my ribs, wished Connor was beside me.

‘Ailey!’ A hand caught me from the side, halting my progress, and Steph was squealing in my ear. She looked fantastic in the can-can girl costume that I helped her pick out the day before. The skirt was outrageously short at the front with black and crimson frills, and with her jet-black wig, fishnet stockings and garish jewellery I hardly recognised her. She wasn’t going to let me go before she’d studied my costume.

‘That dress,’ she gasped. ‘So perfect. Does he love it? Did the limo arrive?’

‘
You knew?
’ I whispered but hadn’t time to question her now. I stood on tiptoe and searched the room but the chain-bound gimp was nowhere to be seen.

‘Looking for someone?’ Steph had to shout above the music.

‘Yes, Kinrade. Seen him?’ Several people bumped me and I couldn’t spot him anywhere. There must have been about two hundred guests filling the hall now and thankfully, because of the mask which I refused to remove, I didn’t have the painful experience of greeting the large number of locals who would undoubtedly remember me and be intrigued to hear where I’d been for the last fourteen years.

‘Apparently he’s going to give a welcome speech soon. What’s up? You seem so agitated.’ Steph came close and grinned, whispering in my ear. ‘I’m off to find Connor. I have something really important to get off my chest.’ She placed a hand on her breasts, easing them higher in their already precarious position.

I nodded feebly and the room fell silent. The colourful gowns of the dancing women blurred together in vibrant streaks. I felt the rush of air as the couples swooped past me, and still heard Steph’s words ringing in my ears.

She was going to tell him that she loved him.

I was on a crazy merry-go-round, hanging on to a wild horse as it spun me faster and faster. Really, it was my life that was spinning out of control. As I looked over my shoulder, I saw Connor standing alone, bemused, sipping champagne, and then suddenly, almost directly in front of me, was the black, leather-clad figure of Ethan Kinrade greeting more guests. I felt split in two.

‘Mr Kinrade,’ I called out but my throat seemed to be filled with sand and he didn’t hear me. I turned to look at Connor through the crowd and now Steph was by his side, her arms flung around his neck and her cleavage pushed up against his king’s robe. She pushed her mouth to his ear – a little kiss, perhaps? – and then she withdrew, laughed and brushed his mouth with her painted lips. Connor’s eyes began searching around the room, no doubt to see if I, his date, had caught him in a clinch with Steph.

Kinrade approached me, held out his hand as if I was in a line to greet him. Up close, he was larger than I’d imagined. His legs and head were covered in smooth black leather while his upper body remained naked but criss-crossed with a series of chains and straps. He wore gloves and a collar around his neck and, most frightening, a black leather mask that covered his head apart from eye- and mouth-holes. A row of pure white teeth was exposed through the tight mouth-hole so I assumed that he was smiling at me.

‘Mr Kinrade.’ I nodded but refused his hand. My heart banged in my chest as I stood dumbstruck in front of the man who had caused me so much anger and resentment during the last few weeks. Unable to hold his mysterious, faceless gaze, I switched my view to the naked skin of his chest and its layer of dark hair. There was a light sheen to his skin, indicating that he perhaps wasn’t quite as cool as he would have everyone believe. And there was nothing I could do to prevent him taking my hand, raising it to his mouth and delivering not a kiss but a bite.

‘Ouch!’ I retracted my hand. ‘How fitting that you’ve come as a gimp, Mr Kinrade.’ But he was gone, annoyingly swallowed up by the crowds. I didn’t have to wait long for another appearance though, as he stepped onto a small platform beside the orchestra. I began my journey through the guests, pushing and shoving to get to where he was standing in front of the crowd, ready to receive their adoration in
my
house. How dare he bite me!

I caught sight of Connor to my left, still busy with Steph, and I tried to look away but felt drawn to their private embrace. I kept tripping on my skirts so I hitched them up and then I thought I spied Dominic across the room although I could have been mistaken because, of course, he was wearing a mask. I just longed for someone familiar by my side.

‘Ailey, that’s never you?’ I turned to see a belly dancer and Zorro. Even through their masks, I could tell it was Liz and Lewis. I could never forget Liz’s sumptuous breasts, the way they oozed over the cups of her sequinned costume bra. ‘You look stunning. Where did you get that dress?’ she asked.

‘No time to tell you. Come with me.’ I grabbed Liz’s arm and pulled her through the crowds towards Kinrade, who was now holding a microphone. As we drew closer, I realised that the oversized and studded black pouch at his groin was going to be at face height when I confronted him. It was all I could see as I broke through the crowd into the small clearing in front of the stage and I was convinced that I could even smell him – the raw tang of a needy man, who was now only a couple of feet away. Ethan Kinrade parted his lips, revealing a salmon-coloured tongue within the leather head gear. The microphone was buzzing and squealed before he spoke.

‘Ladies and –’

I hurled myself onto the stage. I had meant to step up gracefully but tripped on the endless layers of my skirt and landed at Kinrade’s feet in a heap of fabric and frills. I stood as quickly as I was able, aware that there was a scuffle near the door as two large men in dinner suits headed my way. Someone screamed. Kinrade dropped the microphone as I bumped his legs and so I grabbed it and finally managed to get upright.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ I yelled through the screeching microphone. Part of my chignon had dislodged and chunks of hair hung limply around my neck. ‘This man is an impostor! He is a low-down scumbag thief and has wormed his way into my family estate to steal what clearly isn’t his.’ Gasps and noises came from the crowd followed by a loud ripple of surprise as I removed my feathered mask. ‘My name is Ailey Callister and Creg-ny-Varn is my family…hey…stop…get
off
me!’

I was suddenly on my back with my legs kicking and my arms flailing and beating the two bouncers who carried me away.

‘Let
go
, you big thugs. That gimp has stolen my home.’ All my struggling was useless and seconds later, as I was carried out into the entrance hall, I heard the muffled voice of Ethan Kinrade apologising for the interruption and continuing his speech of welcome to an appreciative audience. As I was dragged down the corridor, I heard applause and whistles for the man who was obviously so popular with the locals.

‘You can stay in here until you calm down,’ one of the thugs said, while the other unlocked the door to the library. ‘Mr Kinrade doesn’t want anyone disrupting his party and if you make any more noise, I’ll tie you up to that rack.’

I was about to yell abuse but thought better of it. I didn’t stand a chance against those two brutes and besides, I knew that I could escape through the trap-door in the floor and hopefully get back to the Grand Hall to have my say. They couldn’t stop me that easily. The two bouncers slammed the heavy oak door and I heard them turn the key.

‘Right,’ I said, wishing that I wasn’t weighed down with the ridiculous, albeit beautiful, dress. Even taking two paces in it caused me to trip and move as if there was no gravity. ‘Where’s that hatch?’ I stood by the door and figured out where my father’s desk used to be and therefore where the door to the underground tunnels should be, but the room was so different with its lurid décor and equipment that it was hard to pinpoint the exact spot. ‘Here, I think.’

I peeled back a rug but there was no trap door. Then I realised that it must be buried beneath the weighty iron bed frame straddling the middle of the room. Kinrade had obviously shifted the equipment around since I crept through the basement a few days earlier. I sighed, realising that I would struggle to move the frame on my own.

‘Damn you, Kinrade,’ I cursed as I put my body against the ancient bed, although it hardly looked like a bed any more as it had no mattress but wooden slats, chains and shackles at each corner. It moved about an inch and, as I pushed for all I was worth, I heard a ripping sound as I tore the hem of my dress.

‘That’s it,’ I spat. ‘It’s coming off!’ I pulled at the fasteners on the bodice and then fumbled with shaking hands to untie the ribbons that held the skirts together. When the last one was undone, the entire five layers of skirts dropped to my ankles and the bodice hung open, allowing me to draw a full breath. I gathered it up and placed it on a chair. I couldn’t afford any more damage.

Now, wearing only the basque, panties and stockings that I had borrowed from Liz, I felt more able to move the bed. The deep red lingerie, with its overstated trim and the firm lines of bone that pushed up my breasts into a surprisingly swollen cleavage, somehow made me feel stronger and more confident and gradually the bed began to slide across the boards. I was heaving and pushing and concentrating so hard while leaning over the end of the iron frame, my legs wide apart for better grip, that the sharp sting of a hand on my bottom nearly made me faint with shock. I swung around to be confronted by the gimp. Not only had Kinrade bitten my hand, he had now slapped my ass.