He stroked her face. "Are you wearing anything under that?"
"It's to damned cold out there to go naked."
Peter leant closer. "Pity."
Angela yawned again behind her gloved hand. "Why? What had you got in mind?"
He smiled, recalling the fragments of his dream. "A million and one possibilities for a woman of your calibre." He glanced at the car clock. "Why don't you have a nap? If we're only an hour away from Deuvar we've made good time."
Stiffly he turned round, pulled a rug off the back seat and handed it to her.
She looked at him curiously. "And what are you going to do?"
"Drink my coffee, stretch my legs and by the time I get back I'll have decided which of those million and one possibilities we've got time for before our little show down at Deuvar."
Angela smiled sleepily. "Do you want me to get the wheelchair out for you?"
Peter shook his head. "I'll be fine. I'm much stronger now."
Without a word of protest Angela pulled the rug up around her shoulders. Within seconds her eyes were closed and before Peter had finished his coffee her soft steady breathing informed him that his chauffeur, rescuer and betrayer was sound asleep. He let himself out of the car and took a deep breath. The night air was like broken glass, ripping into his lungs. Head bowed against the icy wind he made his way unsteadily towards the service area.
Max Fielding hurried upstairs to Leonora's office at Deuvar. He had walked back from the Haroldson's cottage, replaying the images of Emily's seduction. He wasn't altogether surprised to be informed by the doorman that Ballard Johnson had arrived with his body slave.
Upstairs, Leonora opened the door to her office before he had the chance to knock. Inside, the Haroldsons, their friend Franz, and Johnson, accompanied by his slave girl, were drinking and talking.
Leonora handed him a glass of champagne, and nodded towards Johnson.
"Peter Howard is on his way here," she whispered under her breath, "and he has Magenta with him."
Max suppressed a gasp of surprise as Johnson came over to greet him.
"Well?"
Max smiled. "Nice to see you too, Ballard. You missed a fine show over at Naomi's cottage. Emily Lawrence was magnificent."
"Naomi has been telling me. I don't need her to be magnificent. I need Magenta."
"Where is Emily now?" said Max, scanning the room.
Johnson lifted his glass towards Leonora's video security cameras. "On her way here with Kai and a guard."
Max glanced up towards the screens. The two women and the guard were no more than a few seconds away. Max settled himself in a comfortable leather armchair; it seemed as if he had arrived just in time.
There was a discreet knock on the door. When the party came into the room Max watched Emily with some interest. She had subtly changed since they had first met at his offices. She seemed less self assured, but now he could detect a heightened sense of her own sexuality. She might well have been shaved, pierced, beaten, humiliated, but all these things had combined to awaken her, not crush her. Max allowed himself a smile, he knew that Johnson had had no such plans for Emily when he had cooked up the plan to flush Peter out from his convenient grave. She had been merely a pawn in the game, but, at Deuvar she had quickly developed into something far more interesting.
From behind her desk, Leonora stared at the two girls with disdain. Her small features hardened. Sold or not, Emily was still the butt of her fury. Emily's actions had compromised Kai and, potentially, the reputation of Deuvar. She looked from face to face.
"Well," she said at long last to Kai. "What have you got to say for yourself?"
Kai glanced up nervously. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I told Emily that escape was impossible."
Leonora snorted. "You should have said something to me. Surely you must have realised if she talked about escape she might seize the first opportunity to try and get away. You should know better than this."
Leonora nodded towards Birdie. "Take Kai next door and secure her. And get the rest of those rags off her." She turned back to Emily. "You," she said steadily, "have disobeyed the two rules I told you are paramount; obedience and silence. You have to be taught what is expected of you."
As she spoke she turned towards a cupboard and removed a vicious looking whip. She held it out towards Emily. The girl drew back, eyes filling with tears.
"Take it," Leonora snapped. "Your punishment for disobeying me will be to discipline Kai. Twenty five strokes. If you're too timid or try to spare her she will get another twenty five. Do you understand me?"
Emily, trembling, nodded. Stepping forward she took the whip from Leonora's hands. Her face was ashen.
"I didn't mean to," she spluttered unhappily. "I'm sorry."
Leonora sighed. "Go into the room next door. Kai is waiting for her punishment."
Reluctantly Emily did as she was told. Leonora glanced back at her guests and then flicked a switch on her desk. A panel in one wall silently glided open, revealing a large two-way mirror overlooking the room beyond. Behind the glass Kai had been manacled, wrists bound together, to a low cross beam in the ceiling.
Birdie had gagged her and was just fastening ankle restraints to the floor; Kai was total exposed. Emily Lawrence stood behind her.
Even through the glass it was possible to see the way Emily's hands trembled as she drew back the head of the whip for the first stroke. Her inexperience made her aim inaccurate. She caught Kai around the waist, the snaking head of the whip raising a vivid scarlet line.
The crack echoed around Leonora's office. Kai screamed out behind her gag, eyes flashing with terror and pain as Emily laid on the second blow. This time it landed squarely across the shoulders making Kai twist around. Emily was too late to hold back on the third stroke which caught Kai high on the breasts.
Tears of guilt and remorse flooded down Emily's face as she struck again. Kai's screams slowly subsided to a muffled miserable sob as the whipping continued. Her body instinctively spun away, twisting and writhing to avoid the whip's unnerving bite. Each shuddering desperate turn revealed the secret places of her body; the pale glistening lips of her sex, soft curves of her ripe open buttocks, the sensuous up-tilted contours of her breasts.
Max Fielding watched with growing excitement as each blow cracked across Kai's delicate flesh. He counted the strokes under his breath, aware that Emily, though doing as she had been instructed, was desperately trying to hit Kai across the buttocks where the thicker flesh would absorb the blows. Beside Emily, Birdie the guard watched without emotion, ensuring the punishment was exacted as ordered.
Kai's slim body was flushed scarlet, her flesh criss-crossed with narrow welts. At twenty strokes Emily began to falter. Her whole body trembled with the effort to sustain the rhythm and continue in spite of her obvious reluctance. Leonora stepped up to the glass and pushed an intercom button.
"Finish it," she growled. "Or I'll have Birdie give her twenty five more."
…twenty one, twenty two. Kai's eyes were glassy as if her consciousness had retreated to some distant corner of her mind to escape the kiss of the whip. Sweat glistened on Emily's body, a trickle running down between her breasts as she completed the final three strokes. When she had done she seemed to freeze, dropping her head, hanging onto the whip like a staff. Birdie eased it from between her fingers and then turned his attentions to Kai.
Before Kai was cut down Leonora pressed a button and the panelled screen slid silently back into position, blocking off the view from her invited audience.
Johnson was already on his feet, his heavy features flushed with excitement. "Bring them back in here," he said thickly.