The feeling of her slim body in his arms made him shiver. She was a feast, delightful. Feelings of love and desire bubbled up from low in his gut until eventually he had to pull back from her embrace. They had to get away. Time ticked by. They need to be out of Deuvar before his plan came together.
He pulled her towards the stairs. "You're going to have to help me. I'm still very weak. We need to get out into the grounds. Do you understand? We can talk about all this later."
Still Emily hung back. "This is how you wanted me to be though, isn't it?" Her voice unsteady and emotional.
Peter stared at her. "What do you mean?"
She bit her lip. "A slave? Yours to command. My master?"
Peter shivered, there was no point in lying.
"Yes," he said thickly. "I wanted to show you so much, give you everything -" He stopped. "And I still do. Let's just get out of here and then we can start again. There are so many things we can do together. A million and one possibilities." He paused. "You look beautiful."
She blushed and he wondered what she had already seen and done. He would take great pleasure in making her tell him about it – and punishing her for it. A million and one possibilities. Her eyes were alight now with a subtle mixture of desire and love.
"Come on," he said firmly and taking her hand they made their way down stairs. He didn't look back, every second was precious. He forced his uncooperative body to obey him.
Below them the hall was silent. Through the windows the first light of a winter dawn began to break through the trees. In the distance he could make out a familiar sound that reassured him that they had a chance to get clear of Deuvar. His office had obviously sent the help he'd requested.
At the main door Peter hesitated. He couldn't take Emily outside without clothes, and he was so bitterly cold himself that he wondered how far he could get across the grass if he gave her his overcoat. There was no time to go back into the main house to find something to cover her with.
As he considered what to do, a figure stepped out from the shadows. Angela Ruskin, naked now except for the harness he had bought her. She was smiling.
He was speechless. She looked totally at ease as if she had been at Deuvar all her life.
"So, you're leaving?" she said slowly.
He nodded, stuck once again by the sensuality of her glorious ripe body.
"I thought you wanted to leave, too?" He glanced out of the window. "Our transport will be here in any second."
Angela ignored him and stared at Emily. "I hope you realise what a lucky girl you are," she said. "Here." She walked over to the sofa by the stairs and brought back the full length coat she had worn to drive Peter to Deuvar. "You'll need this. It's bitter outside."
Peter glanced out into the morning and then back at Angela. "Are you sure you want to stay? You can come with us. I'll make certain you'll be okay."
Angela held up a hand to silence him and laughed. "I've already decided this is the perfect place for me. Where will you and Emily go?"
Peter shook his head. "Far better if you don't know. One thing though, who were you working for?"
Angela looked past him into the velvety shadows of the hall. "For Magenta, who else?" she said softly.
Peter was about to protest but turned instead to follow her gaze. Almost invisible in the darkness was a second figure; tall and majestic. Johnson's magnificent tattooed body slave stepped out into the subdued light.
Peter gasped.
The scarified woman smiled. The expression seemed bizarre on her normally impassive features. "I am Magenta. That's my name," she said quietly in a deep, cultured voice. The same voice, he realised with a start, he had heard when he'd rung Johnson's home number. "A secret key to a mystery."
"But," Peter began, "you were intending to betray Johnson?"
The tall woman shrugged. "I'll never leave him, but he and his organisation were destroying my father's country, tearing it apart like hungry wolves over the carcass of a lamb."
Peter looked back at Angela, more confused than before.
"It's the truth. I'm working for Magenta," she said and brushed her lips against his cheek. "Years ago I used to work, as a nurse, for an aid organisation. I met Magenta's father at one of the hospitals during an official visit. He is the crown prince. He asked me to visit her when I got back to London. We've been in contact ever since."
Peter was still rooted to the spot, looking from one to the other. Never in a million years would he have connected the statuesque nurse with the wild savage who walked a respectful pace behind her master on a silver leash.
"We have to go," he said at last.
Angela nodded and walked into the shadows, arm in arm with the disconcerting Magenta. At the foot of the stairs she turned back. "Peter?"
"Yes?"
Angela Ruskin smiled and blew him a kiss. "I never said thank you for my education."
Peter grinned. "My pleasure."
Johnson picked up the metallic box that had once been Magenta, leant across the desk and switched on the computer. Max poured them another mug of coffee. "So, what happens now?"
Johnson snorted. "How far they get very much depends on how wily Peter Howard really is. But it doesn't matter, we've got what we want." He tapped at the keyboard. "Damn," he sighed under his breath.
"What is it?" said Max.
Johnson shook his head. "The main screen hasn't come on."
Max peered over his shoulder. The computer screen was blank except for a few random flashes. Johnson switched the machine off and on again.
"What the hell is this?" he said crossly, and picked up the phone from Leonora's desk.
"This is Johnson," he snapped into the mouth piece when the phone was answered. "I can't seem to get the computer at Deuvar on line. Are you having any problems that end?"
The voice that replied sounded frantic. "Mr Johnson, I had intended to ring you when we got to the bottom of this. Our machines have crashed at the main office. We've got nothing here but blank screens. I don't understand what's happening."
"What do you mean you don't understand?" asked Johnson with increasing fury.
The man coughed. "Well, it would appear sir, that we've been locked out of the computer system. It started a few minutes ago."
"Locked out? What the hell do you mean locked out?"
As he spoke Johnson tried to remember what Peter Howard had told him about the whereabouts of the new copy of Magenta. He felt his colour draining. "I've left the key in the door, you won't be able to miss it." Peter Howard's voice echoed inside his head.
He sat down heavily in his armchair. Peter Howard had copied Magenta and then left the copy somewhere inside the computer system. The effect was like leaving a key on the inside of the door. They couldn't get back in. The new Magenta was effectively locking them out. The new key had become operational and had at once begun to encrypt the information in the computer system into a new code. A code that you needed the key to break – a key that was safely hidden inside the code which couldn't be used unless you had the key. It was a perfect, infuriating, impenetrable loop. Johnson rested his head in his hands.
"Conniving bastard," he hissed between clenched teeth. There was no point going after him. Without the new Magenta Peter Howard was as powerless as they were. No-one could get into the computer system. Every scrap of information, every record, every deal, every contact and connection was lost inside a maelstrom of machine code.
Johnson suddenly realised that the man was still waiting for an answer at the far end of the telephone line.
"Pour yourself a stiff scotch and then go home," he said wearily. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning."
Outside he heard the disturbing thud-thud-thud of a helicopter landing on the lawn. It seemed he had underestimated Peter Howard.
Peter clambered unsteadily into the back of helicopter, dragging Emily in behind him. The passenger compartment was empty. Gratefully Peter slumped into one of the seats and slammed the seat belt across him and Emily did the same. It seemed like only an instant before the chopper was airborne.