Cassolette Read online

  Cassolette

  Cassolette

  A novel of erotic suspense by

  Iona Blair

  Iona Blair

  Cassolette

  A novel of erotic suspense by

  Iona Blair

  Phaze 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  eBook ISBN 1-59426-614-X Cassolette © 2005 by Iona Blair All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No

  part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Cover art © 2006 by Kathryn Lively

  Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.

  www.Phaze.com

  Author's Note:

  The treasure hunt on Bell Island is loosely based on the history of an Island in

  Nova Scotia. All other events are entirely fictional.

  One

  Heat lightning forked across a purple sky streaked with black on the horizon. Jaye Ferris wiped the sweat from her face and strolled towards the train on which she had been travelling for several days. The station platform burned hot and gritty through the soles of her sandals, and a single crow circled lazily overhead.

  "It's another hot one," the steward remarked, although he looked surprisingly cool in his neat navy-blue uniform. Young and dark with a French-Canadian accent like foreplay, he guided her up the steep carriage steps just as the train whistle screeched its warning of imminent departure. He had boarded the train at Winnipeg, when the crew changed. Jaye found herself irresistibly drawn to him from that first glimpse in the supply cupboard at the end of the carriage.

  " Mais oui, tres chaud," she murmured breathily, glad of the smattering of French she still remembered from high school. She tingled at his nearness and the thrill of his touch. His musky male scent made her senses reel.

  She closed her eyes for a moment to better savor the sensations, then leaned against him longer than was necessary, until the press of other passengers forced them apart. Long idle days spent lounging by a window watching the countryside whisk past left her feeling languid and decidedly horny. It had been several months since she slept with a man, and her body registered its disapproval in a way that could no longer be denied. The idea of seducing this young Apollo, who was many years her junior, appealed to her enormously, especially since he had shown no interest in her.

  Jaye appraised herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the roomette door. She noted with approval her petite yet curvy figure, cropped blonde hair, and engaging green eyes. Indeed, the steward seemed not to notice her repeated attempts at flirtation, but treated her in a polite yet distant manner. Could he really be that naive?

  The fact that he wore a wedding ring presented even more of a challenge. Young, French Canadian, and almost definitely Catholic, perhaps he loved his wife quite devoutly? The question was, would he be true to his marriage vows and refuse to stray? In the dining car, she picked at her meal without appetite, feeling at one with other creatures who also lost interest in food when in heat. A friend of hers who bred border collies once reported that the entire kennel refused to eat during mating season.

  The lights dimmed as they roared through a tunnel, and when she looked up again he was there, sitting with two other stewards at the top table.

  She could feel her heart race with excitement as she looked directly at him. Boldly she held his gaze as she flicked her tongue slowly across her lips and scratched her thigh with black-painted fingernails.

  He was clearly taken aback at the overt sexuality of the gesture. His face flushed as he looked quickly away.

  When she returned to her carriage, Jaye left on the pretty sage dress with the scoop neckline, but slipped out of her underwear. The narrow crotch of the lacy thong panties was redolent with her secretions and sopping wet. She paced around the corridor, restless in her arousal, and when she saw him

  approaching returned to her roomette and rang the bell. Her face felt flushed and she cupped it in her hands, willing herself to calm down. Then she positioned herself on the edge of the seat with her legs spread seductively apart.

  He took his time answering the summons, and when he finally did appear looked quite sullen as he stood framed in the doorway.

  "You rang, Madame?" he asked, as his dark eyes traveled up the insides of her thighs to the swollen lips of her inviting pussy.

  "Close the door," she whispered. She trailed her fingers over her breasts as she spoke, her eyes feverish with longing. "I can't," he replied, plainly flustered, and turned to leave. But she barred his way, and dragged her fingernails over his crotch, invading

  his mouth with a probing tongue. "Why not?" she murmured, feeling his cock rise in response to her touch.

  "Don't I turn you on?" "It's not that," he explained. "But I've never cheated on my wife before. And

  besides, I'm working." "There's always a first time for everything," Jaye insisted wickedly. "Come

  back later and we'll explore it together." After he left she stretched out on the bed and fantasized about what she would do to him if he did decide to return. Unzipping his fly and giving him the best head he had ever had was high up on the list.

  This would be her last night on the train. As it weaved its way through the curving tunnels of the Rocky Mountains, the rhythmic lurching and vibration inflamed her even further.

  "Where are you, mon cher? Come to mamma," she breathed, and stroked her throbbing pussy while she waited.

  By midnight her arousal was laced with impatience, and she padded down the deserted corridor in bare feet, looking for him. But first she dabbed her own body secretions behind her ears and on her throat. She had long known that this was the perfume that truly tantalized and attracted. In fact, it drove some males absolutely bonkers. Known as the Cassolette—a French term for the natural scent of a woman, it had once been a well-guarded secret of courtesans and concubines.

  He was in his roomette, writing on a clipboard. It was the first time that she had seen him in his shirtsleeves with his tie undone. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to his throat, which looked pleasingly vulnerable, and his dark-haired arms.

  "I need you to fuck me," she stated bluntly. The extent of her need eclipsed polite behavior. "This will be our last chance."

  When he didn't respond, she became consumed with exasperation and disappointment. "Go fuck yourself, then," she fumed, and marched angrily back to her room.

  He must have pursued her then, the sound of his footsteps impossible to hear above the rattle of the train. When she tried to close her door he pushed it open and followed her inside. His eyes were stormy, but whether with anger or passion it was impossible to

  tell. Perhaps a bit of both, Jaye decided, and waited to see what he would do. "You have a bad mouth," he accused. Then softening a little, he added, "For

  such a lovely woman." Before she had a chance to respond, he hitched up her skirt and pushed her against the wall. "So you wanna get fucked, do you?" he murmured in a voice thick with passion. Unzipping his pants, he impaled her on a cock rigid as steel.

  "Oh yes…yes…" Jaye gasped. She squat down to better accommodate him, fitting her eager pussy around this most welcome of battering rams.

  He lunged into her without preliminaries, but she was ready. Had been, in fact, for too long. And she returned his thrusts every bit as lustfully. The desire, which had
been building over the last few days, crashed like thunder in her ears.

  Or was that the rumbling of the train as it bowled its way through yet another tunnel that had been carved through the mountains a century before?

  She knew that she wouldn't last. Already the orgasm, which promised to be a whopper, tugged at her womb and shuddered through every part of her.

  He lifted her up as she climaxed so she could wind her legs around him for deeper penetration. She clutched at him hungrily, kissing his mouth and eyelids and hair.

  "I don't even know your name," she whispered, once the urgency had been spent. "Guy," he replied. She noticed that he pronounced it the English way. "I like it," she murmured."I'm Jaye."

  * * * "How was the trip?" Brad Philips was younger than Jaye had expected, although his brown hair was streaked with silver. He had a friendly, forthright manner and a slight squint to his left eye, which she found oddly attractive. He was the solicitor handling her Great Aunt Adelaide's estate, and they had been corresponding for several weeks.

  Brad met her train in Vancouver, and was now driving her to the ferry terminal at Horseshoe Bay. This would be the last lap of a journey that had began in Toronto, and would see her in Pendle Harbor before nightfall.

  "Interesting," she replied with a chuckle. Hot memories of the night before were still uppermost in her mind.

  "The ferry ride takes about two hours," he explained, offering her a peppermint, and taking one himself. "And I've arranged to have someone meet you at the other end."

  Jaye's final destination was Bell Island, to settle up her great aunt's affairs. Although Adelaide's body had not been found, it was assumed she had fallen into the choppy waters surrounding her Island home and drowned.

  "Your great aunt was out in all weathers," Brad said, rehashing Adelaide's disappearance while maneuvering through rush hour traffic. "She most likely slipped and lost her balance while up on the cliffs. And she must have been close to ninety, although she refused to tell anyone how old she was." "Eighty-seven," Jaye responded, "but by all accounts she was very fit." Adelaide had been the adventuresome one in a family that was decidedly conservative. In her youth she had been an avid mountaineer, constantly on the prowl for new peaks to climb. And when that had lost its appeal, she set out to circumnavigate the globe on a bicycle. Although, a particularly nasty fall while freewheeling down a narrow street in Nepal, had cut short that particular scheme.

  In later years, she had shown a keen interest in treasure hunting. Jaye pictured the old woman happily foraging around all sorts of inhospitable terrain for the legendary horde. Inca gold in Peru; Cathar treasure in the south of France; and even a foray or two at sea, searching for sunken Spanish galleons.

  It wasn't surprising, then, that she should end up on Bell Island, eagerly digging for a treasure which had eluded all who sought it for over two hundred years.

  "It's all a load of rubbish if you ask me," Brad declared as they inched their way forward through a snarl of impatient motorists. "I mean, if there was anything buried on the island, someone would surely have found it by now."

  Jaye stretched her legs, making an attempt to tug the short skirt over her knees for modesty's sake. She sensed at once the maneuver was not lost on Brad, who had been fiddling with the air-conditioner controls.

  "It's getting warm in here," he remarked, sweat beading on his upper lip. Jaye smile inwardly, wondering whether his discomfort was due solely to the eightydegree plus weather outside the vehicle.

  She appraised him discreetly. The stream of frosty air blasting from the vents raised goosebumps on her arms and legs. She noted the strong jawline and highbridged nose, and thought how distinguished he must look in his legal gown and wig. * * * From the ferry landing in Pendle Harbor, Bell Island was clearly visible, huddled near the shoreline with the old lighthouse at Renfrew Point looming in the distance. Bell Island shimmered in the late afternoon sunshine. A benign enough place in daylight, but Jaye knew when darkness fell it became sinister and brooding.

  "It's about a ten-minute drive," Chris Graham said as he loaded her luggage into the back of his SUV. A friend of Brad's from their college days, he was the Curator of the Municipal Museum. Tall and thin with cropped black hair and a nervous manner, Jaye noticed that he stammered slightly on certain words. "I really appreciate this," she replied. "It's been a long trip, and I'm beat." "Why didn't you fly?" he asked when she told him of her long trans

  continental rail journey. "Well, I could tell you that I wanted to relax and see the countryside, but that wouldn't be entirely honest," she answered ruefully. "The truth is, that I'm scared to death of planes."

  "So am I," Chris admitted with a self-deprecating grin. The shared confession helped establish an instant intimacy between them.

  "Well at least you won't have to row yourself ashore," Chris added, indicating the causeway that linked the island to the mainland. It had been built by her great aunt to transport heavy digging equipment. However, while a convenience in one way, it was a definite disadvantage in another, for it made access to the island too easy for curiosity seekers and other unwanted types.

  Adelaide's house reflected her personality to the letter. Set in a grove of walnut trees overlooking the Eastern Shore, it was at once solitary, practical, and had no frills.

  "It does have electricity, though," Chris remarked, switching on the porch light to demonstrate. "And a telephone connection."

  Jaye flung open the windows to clear the musty odor, and plugged in the coffeepot. "Will you stay for a cup?" she invited, but Chris shook his head.

  "You'll want to get unpacked and settled in," he said. "But I'll take a rain check on it."

  After she cleaned up a bit, Jaye put on her walking shoes and went out to explore. Easily she walked the entire length and breadth of the island, which was about half a mile either way, before the fast approaching dusk caught up with her.

  The land was roughly bell shaped, hence its name, although there was some argument about that also, with some researchers insisting that it had been named after a Captain Josiah Bell. Bell, they claimed, had first spotted the island in the sixteen hundreds from aboard HMS Dover, a British naval frigate.

  After her walk, Jaye sat on the porch, sipping a cup of tea and enjoying the coolness of the night. She felt dwarfed beneath the vast canopy of the night sky. She hadn't seen such an explosion of stars since she went camping with the Girl Guides when she was twelve.

  The silence, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the occasional call of a loon, would take some getting used to also. * * * Chris telephoned just as she was preparing to go shopping in town. Adelaide's grocery supplies were meager. What was left of the non-perishables amounted to just a few tins of soup and a box of soda crackers. The kitchen cupboards would have to be replenished promptly. "So how goes the battle?" Chris asked. She was surprised by the degree of pleasure she derived from the sound of his voice, stammer and all. Of course, he was the first human contact she had had since first setting foot on the island almost twenty-four hours ago.

  I guess I'm just a true child of the city, she mused. She already missed the incessant traffic noise and frenzied human activity, and felt like a long-time prisoner, anxious to return to the cell he hates.

  "It just feels so isolated," she told Chris. And, of course, apart from an eccentric old hermit named Angus Burns who lived on the opposite side of the Island, she was quite alone.

  "Sounds like you need a little company," Chris declared. "How about if I show you the local sights?" With a laugh, he added, "All two of them." * * * The Smugglers' Inn stood on a high cliff overlooking the harbor. It was designed to appear much older than it really was with low ceilings, oak beams, and scarred wooden tables.

  "Cheers," Chris said, raising his glass in a toast. They had spent the day together, exploring the beaches and caves along the coastline. Then they browsed around The Old Mill Antiques, where Jaye bought a dainty china figurine of Harlequin.

  "To h
ealth and happiness," she responded, clinking her glass against his. She caught in the glass the reflection of her eyes sparking green fire in the flickering light of a candle.

  A quiver shot through her as their hands touched. Flesh on flesh had a special magic all its own. She recalled how he had saved her from falling that afternoon, when she had almost lost her footing on the slippery floor of a cave. She had leaned against him in the semi-darkness, breathing in the heady masculinity of him, reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms.

  She had been tempted then to make a play for him. His closeness made her lubricate. Her nipples tingled against the soft cotton of his shirt. There was a gentleness about him and a shyness she found irresistible. But just then a group of boisterous children pounded into the cave, and the moment was lost.

  It would have been so easy to lose herself in that dank mysterious world, with only the hypnotic sound of dripping water to break the primordial silence.

  Now, Jaye slipped her hand over his, running her foot up the leg of his pants. He looked slightly taken aback and flushed self-consciously.

  "Let's get out of here," she suggested. Draining her glass, she shook her head at the waiter's offer of another round.

  It was a sultry evening, the heat rising up to meet them as they exited the air conditioned restaurant. The briny smell of the ocean mingled enticingly with night-blooming jasmine.

  Jaye kicked off her shoes and they strolled hand-in-hand along the water's edge, the damp sand feeling pleasantly fudgy between her toes.

  She moved as close to him as she could. Her breast rubbed his arm and her thigh bumped against his leg as they walked.

  Afterwards, she would be unable to say whether she had planned to return to the cave or not. Certainly, she had no recollection of having done so at a conscious level.

  But as they paused to admire a shooting star, which lanced across the heavens like a celestial dart, she realized that the caves were right behind them. They lay directly north, up a rocky incline streaked with seaweed.