The Man in the Buff Breeches Read online

  The Italian meal was superb, and I sit back sated and slightly tipsy as I watch Nick’s sensuous hands on the wheel as he drives me home. I shut my eyes and plan the rest of the evening. First I will turn his mobile off and toss it in the cupboard for the bunnies to graze on. I am distracted from my thoughts as we park outside my flat, and I watch a figure coming down the steps. I breathe easily again when I see it is not the security menace. That man has really got me spooked. I am convinced he is connected to something sinister.

  Nick looks over, as if he senses my unease. “Are you alright, Shona?”

  “Yes, fine,” I say. But he is gazing at me with such a protective look, I decide to share my concern. “It’s just that I have a feeling someone has been watching me for the last few days.”

  He frowns. “Really—who?”

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  He places his hand on mine. “Tell me about it. I can see it’s worrying you. You can’t be too careful—a woman living alone.”

  The gentle pressure of his hand is so reassuring that I tell him about the security man at the ball, the incident in the hotel room, and earlier outside the flat.

  He sits quietly tapping the steering wheel with his fingertips. I think he is trying to recall the man in question. “Do you remember him?” I ask. “He had golden hair and wore strange coloured breeches.”

  “There were a lot of men in breeches,” he murmurs. “Was he that yobby looking chap in the parka who was at reception?”

  Yobby! I suppose compared to Nick he did look a bit ragged around the edges, but definitely not yobby. “Yes, that’s him.” I confirm.

  “His reappearance at your flat seems a bit too much of a coincidence, Shona. I think we need to alert the police.”

  Oh no—that is not what I had on the agenda for tonight. I give him my most beguiling smile and say, “I think it can wait for tomorrow, Nick.”

  But he has turned into serious protector mode. “I am not prepared to put your safety at risk, Shona. I will make the call for you if you don’t want to speak to them yourself.”

  I feel slightly pathetic as I’m an independent woman and quite capable of making my own calls. But it’s nice to be looked after for a change. “Okay—thanks,” I say.

  “You’ve told me everything, haven’t you?” His arm grazes my chest as he leans over and caresses my cheek. I nod and stifle a groan as my nipples stand to attention.

  I make the coffee and listen to Nick on the phone as he reports the details of my suspected stalker. There is an uneasy flutter in my stomach. Am I overreacting? What if the golden haired man is entirely innocent?

  Nick is looking grave as I set the tray down on the table.

  Okay, yes, that’s fine. Thanks officer we will be on our guard. He sends me a troubled look as he finishes the call. “Shona, you need to be careful. The police already had a complaint about someone with that yob’s description. There have been some unpleasant incidents—one woman was assaulted yesterday. They are going to check with Woolbury Manor to see who the security was that evening. They might have used an agency, or he could have been lying. They will be around to take a statement from you in the morning.”

  “Assaulted!” I suddenly feel sick. “But why is he stalking me?”

  Nick rolls his eyes. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You are a beautiful woman, and you live alone.”

  Beautiful. I bask for a minute on that word and then break into a shiver at the rest of his sentence. I look uneasily around the flat.

  He instantly reads my mind. “Look, I don’t think you should be alone tonight. I can stay and sleep on the settee.”

  Over my dead body. It is the second date, I tell my head sternly, so that’s okay. “Thanks, Nick. I would appreciate that if you don’t have to be anywhere else.”

  He leans forward and starts to pour the coffee. “Let’s relax, and you can tell me all about the elephants. Did you bring any back from your jaunt from the Caribbean?”

  The last thing I want to do is discuss my elephant collection, but I suppose we have all night.

  The red light on his mobile starts to flash, and he picks it up from the table. “Battery low,” he sighs. “I’ll just go down to the car and get the charger. I’ll be two minutes.”

  He disappears, and I pick up my coffee and think about my stalker. I remembered the way he rescued me from the mad cyclist and the old lady in the revolving door. He was a pain in the ass and acted rather strange—but assaulting a woman? It didn’t seem to fit.

  The doorbell rings, making me jump. Then I relax, realising it must be Nick back.

  I walk into the hall, open the door, and freeze.

  “Hello, Shona. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  My golden-haired stalker stands there. He is not smirking or slouching this time, and because of this, he appears taller and ten times scarier. I back away and try to shut the door, but he wedges his foot across the threshold.

  “Shona, calm down. I only want to talk.” He edges around the door, and I kick him on the shin.

  “Ouch! Bloody woman. Listen, will you?” He shoves the door, and I stumble backwards.

  “Leave her alone, you bastard.” The sound of Nick’s voice vibrates around the hall.

  There is a horrible clunk, and the stalker falls through the door at my feet. Nick has cracked him over the head with the fire extinguisher which usually hangs on the end wall of the corridor.

  I sink down beside the body and watch in horror as blood seeps through his golden hair, creating vivid red highlights. I frantically look around for something to staunch the blood.

  Nick’s hand locks around my arm and pulls me out of the way.

  “Shona, I’ll deal with this. He might come around at any moment. Have you any rope or something we can restrain him with?”

  Rope! That seems a bit extreme. “Is he still alive?” The man groans, and I let out a deep breath of relief whilst thinking about Nick’s request.

  “The kitchen drawer, I have a ball of twine,” I say.

  “Get it please.” His tone is not to be argued with. Nick is all of a sudden like a one man SAS attack. Quick, effective, and taking no prisoners. He taps out a number on his phone. “Police and ambulance,” he barks into the receiver, then shoots me a stern look.

  “Twine, Shona—now!” Geez, he is turning very dominant.

  I rush back to the kitchen and fumble about in the drawer. I hear Nick’s voice in the background briskly conveying the facts to the authorities.

  “They are on their way,” he says, as I return and hand him the twine and scissors.

  Nick binds his prisoner’s feet and arms. The injured man groans softly though the sticky strands of golden hair that covers his face. I desperately want to put a pillow under his head. Even if he is a stalker he is wounded and in pain.

  But Nick pulls me away again.

  “Shona, did he hurt you?”

  “No,” I say. But I’m shaking uncontrollably. My flat has turned into a scene from a Bond movie. He puts an arm around me and leads me into the bedroom.

  “Perhaps you should lie down.”

  I hear another groan from the hallway. Nick sits me down and then heads back to the prisoner, taking my Liberty scarf from the chair as he passes. Why does he want that? I hear another thud, a responding grunt of pain, then silence. Has he gagged the man?

  I am feeling sick from the combination of Antonio’s rich food and the violence. The flat is suddenly eerily quiet. I need to see what is happening. I start to get up when Nick wanders back in, looking slightly dishevelled and very serious.

  My heart is pounding. “Is he all right, Nick?”

  “You shouldn’t be worried about him, Shona. I hate to think what he intended to do with you. The police should be here s
oon. Just lie down and rest for a bit.”

  He sits on the bed and eases me down against the pillow. Then he rubs a hand up and down my arm in a soothing motion, and I try to relax, but all thoughts of a romantic evening have vanished. I feel exhausted and upset. All I want is the police to arrive and take care of the man in the hall. The comforting action of Nick’s fingers stop as he takes my arm and stretches it above my head.

  My eyes fly open as my wrist is deftly secured to the bed post.

  Oh, crap! What is this? I swallow as adrenalin courses through my body and I tug at the restraint.

  Bondage! Haven’t I had enough shocks for one night? Is it because I store twine in my drawer—has it given him ideas? “Nick I’m not into this, and I really am tired. Perhaps a gentler introduction some other time.” And truly, if I didn’t have a man trussed up unconscious in my hall right now, I might have displayed a glimmer of interest, if not curiosity into the proceedings. He strokes my thigh with a long, elegant finger.

  “Sorry, my dear. I tried to do this without hurting you, but I have just run out of time.”

  Shit! The warmth has switched off behind the cobalt eyes. My mouth dries as he pulls up my right arm and secures it alongside the left. All desire for this man evaporates as terror courses through my limbs.

  “I wanted to go slowly, but our unscheduled guest has changed all that.” He straightens up and then leans forward, and I feel his breath on my cheek. “Where is the elephant you bought back from the Caribbean?”

  What? Why does he want to talk about my elephants? Surely this is a joke. I search his eyes, but they have turned to blue ice, and I am terrified.

  “I don’t know—I can’t remember,” I whimper. “It should be around somewhere.”

  He trails another finger of liquid fear up my arm over my shoulder and stops at my throat where his hand splays around my neck. Jekyll has turned into Hyde.

  “You were supposed to bring it safely home for us through Customs, Shona, and then it was to be picked up. But the burglary we arranged to retain it shortly after your return was rather bungled. Then you had your locks changed, and we couldn’t risk another break in and attract police attention. So I needed to get to know you and find out what you had done with our cargo. It wasn’t too hard duping Henry into an introduction at the golf club or getting the key from your holdall at the country house. But I couldn’t find the right elephant. Stephen was so sure you would have his present displayed with loving appreciation. I didn’t realize you had a bloody herd of them. I thought tonight I would be able to coax the elephant’s whereabouts out of you, then I could have left and you would have been none the wiser.”

  He pauses and tightens the hold on my neck making me whimper.

  “You say you don’t remember, Shona, but I think you do. I think you just need to try a little harder. Focus!”

  I feel like my insides have been torn up. “Stephen? From the cruise ship? You know him?”

  “A business partner and he’s no longer a ship’s officer. He has moved on to a better life style. That wooden elephant he gave you contains something I need. So let’s not waste my time. Where is it?”

  “I don’t know—truly I don’t.” My mind is on a spin cycle, and I close my eyes to stop the turmoil. “I remember Stephen giving it to me, and I remember unpacking it, wondering where to put it. But I haven’t seen it for a while.” Tears spring to my eyes as I realize what a complete idiot I have been. “You’re a smuggler,” I whisper.

  “No! You are the smuggler. Think about it, Shona. The police have been watching you.”

  “And the man in the hall?”

  “A very annoying complication.”

  I might have agreed with that a few hours ago, but right now I feel the bile seeping up from my stomach.

  “Who is he?”

  “Detective Sergeant Salter.”

  Oh, bloody hell! I’ve assaulted a police officer and smuggled God knows what into the country. “But the police will be here soon,” I say.

  He smiles, and my hopes are smashed.

  “Oh, those two calls I made—pity no one was at the other end. I’ve also got Salter’s mobile and radio to deal with any enquires to his whereabouts. Although I believe from his last text, he was visiting you on his way home. So now he is probably officially off duty.”

  A vision of the unfortunate detective lying in my hall makes my heart contract. “He needs help. He could bleed to death. You will be a murderer.”

  “And you my accomplice. So for everyone’s health stop wasting time.”

  I can’t stop shivering. What an idiot. Why couldn’t I see that something grotesque lurked behind that perfect facade? “What is inside this elephant—drugs?”

  “Not your concern, Shona. Now where is it?”

  “I don’t know,” I shout. “Perhaps someone else has taken it. My flat seems to be open house, despite the upgrade of the locks.” My eyes fill with tears at the thought of Stephen using me and then this bastard. Duped by two Adonis’s—how gullible did that make me?

  The pressure on my neck increases again, and I start to gag a little before he eases up. What did I do with the damn thing? I have to remember. My mind feels like it is about to explode, and then I have a thought.

  “Yes, I remember now. In the garden there’s a shed. I share it with the flat below. I’ve some boxes stored there. It must be in one of them.” I’m 99% sure the elephant is not there, as I have not been down to the shed since I moved in, but it is the only place I can think of which will get him away from me for a while and his hand from my throat.

  He releases me roughly, causing my head to jerk back against the pillow. I gulp in a huge breath of air as he checks that my restraints are secure. Then he takes a linen handkerchief from his pocket and stuffs it in my mouth. “Just to keep you nice and quiet,” he warns as he turns towards the door. “I’ll be back, and if it isn’t there I will have to start hurting you. I don’t intend to leave without it, Shona, no matter what it takes. And I’m guessing your pain threshold is not too high.”

  I’m guessing he is right. I sniff as the tears course down my cheeks. I don’t know where the bloody elephant is. I wish I did. But there is serious pain to come if I don’t remember.

  I wonder how DS Salter is doing. Please, God, don’t let him die. Those lazy brown eyes and sultry mouth are stuck in my brain. How could I believe he was a stalker? But then again, what sort of judge am I? An hour ago I thought Nick, aka Mr. Hyde, was the most desirable man on earth. My throat constricts, and I think I will choke on this gag. I take a steadying breath through my nose. Think! Where is that stupid elephant? If he has already murdered DS Salter to get it, he isn’t going to spare me.

  How long will it take him to go through my boxes? Ten minutes at the most. I strain my ears for the awful sound of him returning. It is a slow torture, and the damp satin patch on the front of my dress expands as the tears roll down unchecked. Damn you! DS Salter, why didn’t you warn me—or did he? Was he watching over me or just waiting to trap me? I don’t know. But he could be bleeding to death out there and somehow elephants, con men, and my guilt are all unimportant. I need to get help for the man in the hall!

  I bite down on the linen in my mouth and with every ounce of energy pull on the twine. The sound of my heart thudding is crashing in my ears along with the frantic creaking of my bedstead. I prepare myself for a second attempt when I hear the terrifying sound of footsteps in the hall.

  He’s back.

  The door swings open, and my heart stops for a few seconds as DS Salter stumbles in. His head is bleeding, and he is holding his ribs with his right hand. He walks awkwardly to the side of the bed and blinks down at me swaying slightly. Thank God he’s alive. He stands before me frowning and my eyes bore into him. For heaven’s sake, get this gag off me. I need to warn him about Mr
. Hyde’s imminent return.

  His confusion seems to clear, and he leans forward and gently pulls the material from my mouth and the breath whooshes in to my body.

  “He’s coming back,” I gasp. “He’s only gone to the shed. He’s coming back!” DS Salter winces as he sits on the bed beside me. He looks so calm that I want to shake him despite his injured state.

  A warm hand gently encircles my arm. “It’s all right, we have your boyfriend,” he says.

  I blink and realize he must be concussed. “No! He is coming back.” I clutch his arm.

  “No, Shona, he’s not. My partner guessed I’d be here after I signed off duty. Your garden is quite crowded with police officers. There is no way he can escape.”

  I’m shaking uncontrollably but manage to loosen my hold on his arm. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, and he’s definitely not my boyfriend, he’s a maniac.”

  “Yeah, you should be sorry, you have a vicious kick.” He is looking at me with careful eyes. “You okay? Did he hurt you?”

  “Not physically, although he almost terrified me to death.” Now that I know DS Salter has survived, I fly from uncontrollable weeping to uncontrollable anger. “But no! I’m not bloody okay. Why didn’t you tell me you were police?”

  “It‘s complicated. But trust me, you’re safe now.”

  “Safe! I am trussed to a bed post. Are you going to untie me any time soon?”

  He supports his ribs with one hand and winces again as he searches his pockets. I wince with him, feeling a huge surge of guilt. He needs attention more than I do.

  “A strange choice of knot,” he mutters, peering at my bonds.