Stone raised his glass. 'To the last meal's arriving abouut seventy years from now.'
She laughed. 'I'll drink to that.'
They ate hungrily, wolfing down the tender beef taking the marvelous wine in large sips, then served themselves seconds of everything.
'I won't have room for dessert,' Stone said.
'I'm dessert,' she replied. 'And you'd better have room.'
They lay together in the aft cabin, kissing and stroking each other tenderly. They both had things to forget, Stone thought-he, Arrington; she, that he might be the last man she'd ever have. There was a moon filtering through the portholes, and in its light, with her fair hair and skin, she was as white as marble. Stone bent over her and his tongue found its way through the soft, blond pubic hair into the warm sweetness beneath. He was gentle, not pressing her, and she ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging and directing him until she shuddered and came quietly.
Then she reversed their positions, taking him into her mouth, caressing him with her tongue and fingers, drawing him to his fullest-teasing, tempting, but never allowing him to climax. Finally, when he was nearly mad, she mounted him and pulled him into a sitting position. They were mouth to mouth, nipple to nipple, he deeply into her. She brought her feet behind him so that she could pull him even farther inside her.
They stayed that way for what seemed like hours, then Allison began moving more rapidly. Stone moved with her, and, locked tightly together, they came noisily, finally toppling over onto the sheets.
'If that has to be my last time,' she panted, 'I won't have any complaints as to how well it went. I honestly don't think sex can be any better than that.'
'You won't get an argument from me,' Stone panted back.
They lay in each other's arms for a while, then she surprised him by bounding out of bed. 'Come with me!' she cried.
He followed her into the saloon, then up the companionway and into the cockpit, oblivious of the two guards on the dock. She flung herself over the lifelines and into English Harbour, with Stone right her, matching her stroke for stroke.
She stopped and treaded water. 'Do you think they I'm making a break for it?' she asked.
'I think they're too astonished to think,' Stone laughing.
They swam out into the harbor, the moon sparkling an their wake, then back to the yacht, climbing aboard gain. Then they went back to bed and started over.
CHAPTER 49
The drive to Government House, with Thomas at the wheel, was silent. Stone sat in the front, reading the opening statement he had written, merely for something to occupy his mind. Leslie Hewitt would probably ignore it anyway. He glanced occasionally at Allison, who sat in the backseat, gazing absently out at the St.Marks landscape, seemingly calm and self-possessed. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, at Stone's request, and she wore a mostly blue, floral-printed silk dress. She looked about twenty-one, Stone thought.
They arrived in the official parking lot nearly simultaneously with Sir Leslie Hewitt's ancient Morris Minor station wagon. Everyone got out and shook hands, smiling, attempting good spirits. With Hewitt in the lead they entered the building through the police door and climbed the stairs to the second floor, passing through a corridor to the door used by guards, lawyers, and defendants. To one side was a small robing room, and and Hewitt donned their robes and wigs. Once again, Stone felt foolish.
They entered the courtroom. Stone had forgotten Allison would have to stand in the dock, several behind the defense table; he would not be able to confer with her when court was in session. He felt very out of his element. In New York he would have at home in any courtroom and in at least partial control. Here he felt like an intruder, and he worked hard at not letting Allison know it.
Spectators were filing into the gallery, which was raised in tiers like a college lecture room or, more aptly, London's Old Bailey. The room was not paneled, simply painted, and the paint had begun to fade and peel. Stone saw Frank Stendahl, the insurance salesman, enter and take a front-row seat not far from the dock.
At the front of the room, elevated above the defense was the bench; to the judge's'right witness box, and beyond that, the jury would sit. Stone and Sir Leslie sat down at the defense table. A moment later Sir Winston Sutherland swept into the courtroom, his robes flowing, followed by his assistant.
'Leslie,' Stone asked, 'did you have an opportunity to study the opening and closing statements I wrote?'
'I read them,' Hewitt replied.
'There were a number of very important points, particularly in the opening statement, that I thought should be included in your opening.'
'I'm aware of that, Stone,' Hewitt said, arranging his robe. 'Please don't concern yourself with my opening.'
Stone sighed and tried to make himself comfortable in the hard wooden chair.
A moment later, the bailiff entered, stood at attention, and cried, 'Hear ye, hear ye, all rise for the Lord Cornwall.'
All rose, and the judge, resplendent in red robes, his black face contrasting sharply with the whiteness of his long wig, entered and sat down at the bench in a high-backed, ornate leather chair, with a gilded crown set at the top, a remnant of Her Majesty's rule. 'Good morning,' the judge said.
Hewitt was on his feet. 'Your Lordship,' he said, 'a small request before we begin.'
'Yes, Sir Leslie?'
'We have a long day ahead of us; I wonder if the prisoner might have a chair?'
Stone's stomach lurched at hearing Allison so described.
'Of course, Sir Leslie. The bailiff will provide a chair for the prisoner.' The bailiff found a chair and set it in the dock for Allison, who thanked him sweetly, eliciting an unexpected smile.
Stone hoped that was a harbinger of things to come.
'The court will come to order,' the judge said. 'I will hear from the minister of justice.'
Sir Winston stood, cleared his throat, and spoke. 'Your Lordship, today we hear the case of the people of St.Marks against the prisoner Allison Manning, on a charge of murder. We are ready for Your Lordship to select the jury.' He sat down.
'Call the first juror,' the judge said.
'Call the first juror!' the bailiff cried.
A door opened at the rear of the courtroom and a entered. He was elderly and thin and he was wear-a three- piece wool suit that fit him very well. He the first seat in the jury box.
'State your name and occupation,' the bailiff said. 'I am Charles Kimbrough,' the man said. 'I am a by trade, and I am recently retired.'
'Mr.Kimbrough,' the judge said, 'are you in good and of sound mind?'
'I believe I am, Your Lordship.'
'Are you acquainted with the prisoner or any member-of the court?'
'I am acquainted with Sir Leslie Hewitt and yourself, Your Lordship, as I have made suits for both of you in the past.'
'Anyone else?'
'I know Sir Winston, though I have never had the pleasure of his custom.'
'Yes. Have you heard anything about this case?'
'Oh, yes, Your Lordship,' the man said. 'I have read all about it in the newspapers.'
'Have you formed an opinion of the prisoner's guilt or innocence?'
'Well, Your Lordship, I think she might have done it, but then again, she might not have.'
'He's okay with me,' Stone murmured.
'Keep your seat, Mr.Kimbrough,' the judge said. 'You're the foreman of this jury.'
Kimbrough sat down, and another man was brought in. He was not so finely dressed, but he was clean and neat. He was a bartender at a local hotel, and he was soon seated. He was followed by a taxi driver, an apprentice
