Cassolette Page 11

  She could tell the question had made him uncomfortable by the slight stammer that accompanied his answer. "So you would counsel no action whatever in the treasure hunting department, am I right?"

  He nodded quite emphatically, and she noticed how his eyes glowed with purpose. "There's already been too much money lost trying to recover a…phantom treasure."

  She placed a chronometer and ship's bulkhead clock beside a model of the opium clipper Rose. Brad has also advised her not to risk her money in what he described as "a mad last minute dash for the pot of gold." And he was, after all, her late aunt's financial adviser.

  Of course, it was just common sense really, she decided. How could she expect to achieve, even with the help of a cofferdam, the prize that had so eluded treasure hunters for over two hundred years?

  But that's just it, lassie, can't you see? She recalled Angus moaning, slapping his forehead in exasperation. The cofferdam will let us go where no-one has been able to before, because of the infernal bloody flooding. * * * Scott was away on a promotion tour for his latest book, Bell Island Revisited, an update to his previous bestseller about the mysterious island, scene of the world's longest running treasure hunt. But he was due back later that night and she was anxious to hear what his take on her dilemma would be, for in the tall, reclusive author with the shaved head and smart goatee she sensed a kindred spirit.

  "It's great to see you again," he enthused, clutching Jaye to him in a bear hug. "E-mails are a poor substitute for the real thing." He told her that he had got back late yesterday. "I spent the night in Vancouver, and caught the first ferry back in the morning."

  He was more tanned than she remembered, and thinner. "I managed to soak up some of that Florida sunshine," he told her when she remarked on this. "And when I'm on the road, I don't have time to eat. At least, not like I do at home, speaking of which..." And with that he sped into the kitchen, where a potpourri of delicious smells wafted tantalizingly.

  "And how have you been, boy?" Jaye asked Reilly, the hefty orange cat that lay sprawled along the back of the sofa with paws outstretched. "Have you been behaving yourself?"

  "Alice has been keeping him company," Scott said, referring to his live-out housekeeper, whose ancestor Sadie Biggs had been flogged for prostitution by order of Judge Absalom Percy.

  "Were you ever able to dig up any more about poor Sadie?" she asked him now, as she relaxed with a pre-dinner drink, which Reilly expressed an interest in sniffing. For no one had researched the history of the Pendle Harbor area more thoroughly than he had.

  "No, just the record of the flogging, I'm afraid. The Sadie Biggs equivalent to our fifteen minutes of fame."

  He went on to say that it was one of the most maddening parts about historical research. "Just one tantalizing mention of a person, and then the past closes ranks against you again."

  "Talking of which," Jaye intercepted. "I'm caught between the devil and a hard place in regard to the Bell Island treasure hunt."

  "Yes, I heard about the proposed Heritage Designation," Scott nodded. "Which means time is running out for any more diggings."

  She swished the gin around in her glass contemplatively. It was dimly lit in the ocean facing sitting room and cozily mellow. "What would you do in my place, Scott? Would you take a last stab at the grand prize?" "You want to, don't you?" "In one way, yes, very much…." "But?" He cocked his head to the side in a quizzical attitude. "You're thinking

  of the expense involved, of course." Jaye nodded. "Two-million big ones…it's a lot to think about." He freshened up their drinks and told her dinner was almost ready. "Chicken

  Cordon Bleu, done to a turn, and pumpkin pie for desert." "Adelaide left a lot of debts," Jaye explained, talking as much to herself as to

  Scott. "So even if I sold the island afterwards, I'd still probably end up in the red." And yet, she reasoned, long into a sleepless night, if she didn't go for it now, she would regret it for the rest of her days. For there was only going to be this one last chance, before the treasure hunting days of Bell Island were over forever. * * *

  "You've made the right decision, lassie," Angus enthused, his bulbous eyes fairly glinting with pleasure. "And you'll not regret it, or my name's not Angus Burns."

  "Well, I wish I had just a smidgen of your confidence," Jaye laughed. "Because I'm feeling far from sure, I'll admit."

  "You must be quite mad," Joanna had admonished during an early morning telephone call. "Throwing good money away on such a madcap scheme."

  While Chris, although less forthright, clearly thought much the same. "There's no real concrete basis for believing there is any treasure there," he had pointed out as if to a moron. "Have you talked this over with Brad?"

  Brad had echoed the sentiments, but more forcefully, falling back on his official capacity as financial advisor to Adelaide for impetus. "There's been too much money lost already on that wild goose chase," he admonished her. "Don't fall victim to the Siren's Song, Jaye."

  And every time she thought of this, a mental image of "Good Ship Jaye" being lured onto the rocks by the seductive call of the treasure hunt sailed across her troubled mind's eye. * * * "I'm Lloyd Baird from the Evening Standard." It was the third call she'd had from the press that morning, and Jaye was beginning to feel hounded. "We're interested in the latest developments on Bell Island."

  From where she stood clutching the phone, she could see straight across the bay to the old lighthouse at Renfrew Point. It was a sparkling winter day, brittle with sunshine and the squawk of gulls.

  She told him the same as she had the rest. "There are no new developments, Mr. er …Baird." Then she very firmly hung up, wondering for the umpteenth time how the news had traveled so fast and so far.

  All she had done was arrange to have a cofferdam installed in early spring. "We prefer not to work in winter conditions," the gravel voiced man with the hacking cough had explained.

  Jaye poured herself a cup of coffee from the freshly perking pot and took it over to the window to drink. The very last thing she wanted was a gaggle of reporters descending on the island. And the only way to prevent this from happening was to hire a security company to patrol it.

  "Now you're talking," Angus declared enthusiastically. "And might I suggest a good solid barricade at the beginning of the causeway?"

  Now that she had, at last, decided on a course of action, Jaye felt full of purpose and resolve. The waiting, although it would only be for a couple of months, would be doubly difficult.

  "Patience was never my strong point," she confessed to Scott, as they tramped along the frozen beach. Underlying the strain of waiting was the fear that something would go wrong.

  A cormorant swooped down to the water's edge, its dark wings stark against the skyline. "Just relax, it'll be alright," he tried to reassure her. "And don't worry about having second thoughts, with a project this big it's only natural. It's still not too late to call it off, Jaye." * * * The letter was postmarked Vancouver, and delivered by Registered Mail. It was from Midas Holdings, the mysterious company that Angus had accused of murdering Adelaide, and signed by John Dorian, the equally mysterious character that nobody had ever met.

  "And what did he want?" Scott asked, his voice sharp with interest. The name had cropped up countless times during his research of Bell Island, but had always drifted away from any attempt to pin it down, as elusively as a will-o-the-wisp.

  "He's made me an offer on the island," Jaye replied, gripping the receiver harder than was necessary to compensate for her trembling knees. "And it's double the amount I could expect to get if I put it on the market." "Well then, why don't you do the sensible thing and take him up on it?" "I can't," she replied despondently. "The island has to be handed over

  immediately or the deal is off." "So he's heard about the excavation plans for spring, and wants to have his name on the title when they happen." Jaye could hear Reilly mewing in the background and Scott opening the door to let him out. "This is encouraging, Jaye. If fo
r no other reason than he must be fairly certain that Bell Island will yield up its treasure this time." Then as a murmured aside, "I wish I had his confidence."

  "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Dorian had been pestering Adelaide to sell for years." "I realize that, but he never offered as much as he's doing now." "Well, perhaps he knows something that we don't," Jaye suggested flippantly. "Wasn't there an old legend about the treasure not being discovered until all

  the eagles had left the island?" "That's right, and come to think of it, I haven't seen any around there in quite

  a while, have you?" "No, I haven't actually," she laughed. "Lots of herons, sandpipers and

  ospreys, but no eagles..." But the more than generous offer on Bell Island left Jaye in more of a conundrum than before, for it had raised the stakes significantly. In fact, it had more than tripled them. Could she now in good conscience continue with the dig? What if it failed, as all the others had over the years? Then she would be left with a pile of unpaid debts and be kicking herself all the way to the poor house.

  So once again she climbed on the treadmill of hope and doubt. On the one hand, if the cofferdam enabled them to unearth the treasure—all supposing that there was one, of course—the wealth was likely to be of El Dorado proportions. No one goes to that amount of trouble to bury something of little value. And after more than two hundred years it would have multiplied incalculably.

  But it was the historical significance of such a find that interested her the most. For this was what Adelaide would have wanted. Was, in fact, what she had devoted more than twenty years of her life to doing. And taken in this context, Jaye felt an obligation to follow through with what was bound to be—courtesy of the Heritage Designation—the last dig on Bell Island.

  On the negative side was a tremendous loss of money, two million big ones that she could not afford to lose. If she took John Dorian up on his offer, she'd be able to pay off all Adelaide's debts and still end up a rich woman. Yet, if she didn't go for it now, if she allowed this last crack at the treasure to pass her by, she would regret if for the rest of her days. * * * "You must be on tenterhooks," Scott said, swinging his car into a parking stall between a mini-bus and a station wagon. It was a brilliant Sunday in April with a big yellow duster of a sun polishing the heavens.

  "You could say that," Jaye replied ruefully. "But I'll be glad to get the waiting over with." After several delays due to weather and other contingencies, the work was finally scheduled to begin on Bell Island the following day.

  The Pendle Harbor Antique Market was more crowded than usual. They were having a special estate sale that had been advertised for weeks. "And these are the little beauties I've come to see," Jaye murmured, as she ploughed her way through the crush. "A group of figurines to die for."

  "Remember you haven't recovered the treasure yet," Scott teased, as he watched her select a group of four Bow figures, emblematic of the seasons.

  "I just adore this one," she enthused, acknowledging the remark with a playful shrug. She held the ornament that wore autumn's tawny gown towards the shaft of sunlight streaming in from a dormer window.

  Afterward, they went for a drive afterwards along the Old Coast Highway, following the serpentine road as it hugged the shoreline and snaked up the sheer face of Pendle Mountain.

  "The view from here is breathtaking," Jaye exclaimed, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun reflected back from the ocean. There was a flotilla of yachts and other sailing craft swelling the bay, their sails starched white against a backdrop of electric blue sky.

  "It's the kind of day you never want to end," Scott said, rolling down his window to adjust the side view mirror. "Picture perfect and warm as angel's breath."

  Jaye thought how extremely contented she felt at that moment in time. Then Guy popped into her mind, and she simply ached for him. You're a sex addict, a little voice piped up cheekily, from deep within her erotic soul. Her mind conjured up carnal images of herself and Guy—best suited to a cloak of darkness—which made her throb with passion right there in the bleached brilliance of the day.

  "I sometimes wish I could hold back time," she admitted with a rueful grin. "Or at least slow it down a bit."

  But in the Ploughman Arms later that evening, she wished the very opposite. Just as she and Scott were enjoying an intimate drink in the snug, who should walk in but Chris and Brad, who had just returned from a day of Chinook fishing.

  "Did you have any luck?" Scott asked. Jaye knew Scott already knew Chris from his research forays into Pendle Harbor's past. His help had been invaluable while writing The Bell Island Mystery.

  "Do you know Brad Philips?" Chris asked, accepting Scott's invitation to join them, but only for a quick drink. "Brad has to catch the nine-o-clock ferry for Vancouver." "Adelaide Dawes' attorney," Scott said, standing up to shake hands. "I've

  heard of him, of course, but we haven't met before." It was a strange feeling for Jaye, sitting at a table with three men who had so vigorously ploughed her furrow, and recently, too. She took a tentative sip at her drink to hide her discomfiture, glad of the dim lights that hid her flushed face.

  They were all so damned handsome, too, fairly oozing sexuality. She breathed in their intoxicating maleness, the combined effect was disorienting. What would it be like, she mused, to take them all on at the same time? The build-up of excitement, and the resulting orgasm would be tremendous. Jaye, feeling decidedly horny, knocked back her drink in one swallow, and ordered another one. Then she began to flirt with all three. Did they know that she was bedding each and every one of them, she wondered wickedly.

  The answer was provided quicker than she expected, by Brad. "We're all adults here," he stated, desire rising hot in his eyes. "Jaye has been giving us some of the best sex ever. How about we get together and thank her?"

  She saw a look of shock flit across Scott's face. So he hadn't known about her liaisons with the other two men, she concluded. Chris, on the other hand, while appearing nervous, registered no surprise. It was only natural, of course, that he and Brad would have discussed their love life, and discovered they had a playmate in common. "Well what do you say?" pressed Brad. "Count me in," murmured Jaye. Chris stammered a bit on delivery, but nodded his agreement instead. "Well, Scott?" Jaye prompted. She could see a succession of conflicting emotions playing out in his troubled eyes. On the one hand, he had been shaken by the news of her other relationships. The way it was delivered, too, would come as an added shock. While on the other, he longed to enjoy her in the company of others. There would never be another chance such as this one. Sexual curiosity at last won out, and they rented a room upstairs.

  "I'm being a naughty girl," Jaye purred, kicking off her shoes and making herself comfortable on the bed. "Who's going to spank me?" "Let's be democratic," Brad joked. "We'll take turns." "I'm up first," Scott volunteered. His look of shock now turning to anger. He

  looked as thought he intended to smack Jaye's bottom very hard for her infidelity. She sensed this and it made her quite wildly excited. There was nothing quite

  like a beating to get the juices flowing. She braced herself for it. Scott looked so sexy, too, with his shaved head. She would rub her pussy

  over it afterwards. Brad delved into the mini bar and replenished their drinks. "Well, shall we

  get the show on the road?" he asked. Scott wasted no time in dragging Jaye across his lap. He lifted her skirt and tugged down her panties. Then he spanked her hard on both cheeks until her bottom smarted like the Dickens. "Ouch," exclaimed Chris. Jaye could hear the concern in his voice. "Leave some skin on her behind for us," Brad quipped, and she knew that he, too, was feeling uncomfortable by the sheer vigor of this long hard spanking. Jaye had not moved throughout. She took her punishment well. The

  occasional gasp and moan the only indication that she was feeling any pain. Then it was Chris' turn. The excitement of having her bottom spanked by one lover, while the other

  two watched was so intense it def
ied description. "Oh, my god," she whispered, as she bent across Chris' lap. She could see

  Scott rubbing his sore palm surreptitiously. Chris was gentler by far than Scott. He ran his hand over her crimson behind.

  "Jeez, it's hot," he remarked, then spanked the backs of her thighs instead. "Now it's my turn. Last but not least," said Brad, and he whipped off his belt. "Hey, easy on there, I think she's had enough," Chris protested. "She loves it," Brad argued. "Her bottom's warmed up nicely so it won't mark." He swished his belt through the air in a trial run. "Bend over the chair, Jaye," he ordered.

  Jaye's fair skin was red from her buttocks to the backs of her knees. She winced as Brad strapped her, yet along with the almost unbearable pain was a desire so strong it was frightening. She had never experienced this degree of excitement before.

  After he had beaten her, Brad took her in his arms and loved her. He kissed her face and lips and stroked her hair, whispering endearments. "Your turn now," he murmured to Scott. "Be nice to the lady." Jaye could feel Scott's pent up anger drain out. She wound her arms around his neck and whispered, "I'm sorry." His goatee brushed against her cheek as he bent to kiss her lips. Then he caressed her breasts and bruised behind.

  Chris interrupted the tender scene by pulling Jaye down on his lap and rocking her like a baby. He kissed her deeply and ran his hands over her belly and thighs. She pressed herself against him, half-delirious with desire. Then the other two men, who were now naked, joined in.

  "Please…I want you all to do me at once," Jaye whispered, as they stripped off her clothes, and she was fondled and kissed by all three. She positioned herself on the bed. The men were hard and ready, and she had never been as wet. She was

  headed for a G-Spot orgasm. Scott entered her vagina, while Brad penetrated her anus. Jaye gasped in ecstasy. Never had she felt so filled up and totally taken before. She accommodated Chris with her mouth. She knew that it was referred to as the Airtight Seal, this rapturous connecting of three men and one woman, or sometimes as a Tupperware Party.