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The doctor clapped his hands. “We’re off to the beach, Roland. You’re rostered off in two days?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be leaving on the boat and going to my sister’s wedding. Inigo will be here while I’m away.”
I barely listened. Death, he’d promised that but, somehow, I didn’t believe him, or maybe I just didn’t care anymore. I was so out of fucks my alphabet had probably lost itsF.
I needed to find out more about the doctor, and the place to do that was upstairs in the Inner Sanctum. As for the key…
The lock on that Sanctum door was an antique, too, with a bold, brass keyplate and curlicue engraving.
As we reversed our course down the stairs, I remembered a framed assortment of ancient objects in the library. It had hung on the wall beside a framed page. A pearl-sewn purse, a derringer, and several unknown things were featured, as well as four gold or silver keys. Even better, the hinges on that frame were a very different color to the clip that held the frame—that clip was burnished by frequent use. Could it be that simple?
And if it was that simple, and one of those keys fitted that special door, why was it so?
Curiosity, engaged.
* * *
This beach was the only good one on the island, and the only one with a toppled tower slowly crumbling into the sea. The wind riffled off the sea and through the grove of open trees to tussle my hair as I fastened it into a ponytail. At the other end of the wide strip of sand was a small headland where the tower had been built. A bomb had done this, long ago. Blown-apart stone blocks lay half sunken into sand or were in the sea being washed by small waves.
The doctor had driven the car, and he parked beside a beach hut that, in times long past, was probably built as shelter for a goatherd or similar. Like most of the structures on the island it looked as if it had existed for a century or more, with brick walls, a terracotta roof, and a cobblestone patio out the front facing the beach. There was nothing inside the shelter except a weathered table, chairs, a few shelves, and a faucet that connected to a rainwater tank. The door and windows were gone, leaving holes.
None of the staff had come, so I was alone with the two men, two slightly crazy men, considering why I was even on this island, a picnic basket and two bottles of white wine the doctor had brought in a cooler with a slab of ice.
“Let’s have a swim before the sun is too high. Leave your clothes here. Bring a towel.”
The doctor seemed to be addressing us both as he stripped. Cassius had gone off wandering around the back of the hut, but he’d returned and was already dragging off his shorts. I must have looked hesitant. So much nakedness outside a bedroom.
“No sex for a while. Get naked, Charity. You’re safe.” The doctor dropped his clothes in a neat pile on a rickety chair on the patio. “Are you sore?”
God knew why that made me blush, but the heat washed over my face. “I’m…okay. You have to remember, I’m British, and this much nakedness outside a bedroom or a club seems odd.”
Especially this much nekkid in front of two well-formed men with great asses.
Quickly, I whipped the dress off over my head and cast it over a modern rattan sun lounge. Two others were stacked near the hut. “I claim this one. Who gets to lie on the paving stones? One of you gentlemen?”
“Can I spank her later for thinking she wouldn’t be on her knees serving me?” I pursed my lips but said nothing more, since Cassius had a devilish look that saidtry me.
“We’ll see. No sex this morning, though, children. If you need the bathroom, it’s in the trees.” The doctor strolled away toward a sandy path leading through the palm trees and shrubs.
“No fun until this afternoon then, princess.”
“If you’re lucky.” My mouth was moving before I could shush myself—a sign I was more comfortable with these men than was wise.
The doctor yelled over his shoulder. “Shovel and toilet paper is in the hut!”
Ha.Outdoor amenities were so not fun.
I put my hands on my hips, refusing to back down from Cassius. Of course, he took several seconds to peruse my nude figure before grabbing his own towel. He sauntered closer and put his hands on my hips. He turned me, clearly checking my ass as he smoothed his hand over it.
“Dayum.” He gave it a light smack. “You’re bloody lucky sex is banned right now or I’d pin you against the wall and do things to you. Check out behind the hut before you follow me. Twenty meters behind it or thereabouts.”
I had whiplash from his sexy threat in my ear and this next part. “Have you been peeing back there?”
He laughed. “Maybe, but it won’t kill you. Just watch your step. Go look.”
Men and their pissing activities. They were almost as bad as dogs at marking territory.
I watched them go and was struck by the freedom implied in this—in them leaving me to follow and expecting it, and not worrying about me doing something entirely off the wall.
