'I'm so sorry, Richard, but you forgot to lock the door. I'll wait outside.'
'No, it's all right,' said Hawk quickly. 'I'm finished. You can come in. I'm…
just leaving.'
'There's no hurry,' said Katrina, walking slowly towards him. 'No need to rush
off on my account. I only came in to freshen up. Besides, I've been looking for
a chance to get you on your own.'
'Oh yes?' said Hawk, in a voice that wasn't as steady as it might have been. He
started to back away, and immediately bumped into the wash stand behind him.
'What did you want to see me about?'
'No need to be bashful, Richard dear. We don't need to play games, surely; not
at our age. We're of an age where we can say what we mean, and pursue those
things we desire without hiding behind false modesty. You're a very attractive
man, Richard.'
She stopped immediately in front of him, so close her bosom pressed lightly
against his chest as she breathed. Her upturned face brought her mouth
dangerously close to his, and he could feel her warm breath on his lips. Hawk
swallowed hard.
'You are a married woman,' he said hoarsely, clutching at straws.
'Oh, don't bother about Graham. No one else does. We'll just have to be
discreet, that's all. I've seen you watching me, Richard, when you thought no
one was looking. Watching me, wanting me, desiring me. I can feel the passion
rising within you. Why try and deny it? My heart is beating faster just at the
closeness of you. Feel it!'
She grabbed his right hand and held it firmly to her breast. Her skin seemed
impossibly soft and warm under his hand, and her perfume filled his head. He
thought about calling for help, and then quickly decided against it. If Isobel
was to find them like this, she'd kill both of them. Or laugh herself sick. Hawk
wasn't sure which would be worse. He tried to surreptitiously pull his hand
free, but she had a grip like a beartrap.
'Don't fight it, Richard,' murmured Katrina, practically breathing the words
into his mouth. Her eyes were dark and dangerous. 'You do find me attractive,
don't you?'
'Uh… yes. Sure. It's just…'
'Just what?'
'This is hardly the right place for a romantic assignation,' said Hawk,
improvising wildly. 'Someone might come in.'
'We could lock the door.'
'They'd get suspicious! Besides, Jamie will be calling us down for the reading
of the will soon, and we wouldn't want to be interrupted, now would we?'
'The will. Yes, of course.' She let go of his hand and stepped back, frowning
thoughtfully. 'You're right, my dear; this isn't the right time. But don't
worry, Richard. I'll sort something out. Just leave everything to me. And the
next time we meet, things will be very different, I promise you. See you later,
my darling.'
She kissed the tip of her index finger, pressed it to his lips, and then turned
and left the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind her. Hawk swallowed
hard and slumped back against the washstand. Just when he thought the case
couldn't get any more complicated… The bathroom door burst open, and Hawk almost
screamed. Fisher looked at him.
'What the hell are you so jumpy about?'
'Nothing. Nothing at all. What is it?'
'Jamie's just called us down for the reading of the will. Are you all right? You
look a bit flushed.'
Chapter Six
A Dead Man, Talking
The library had been designed for quiet contemplation, or perhaps the occasional
late-night reminiscences of a few old friends. Cosy and comfortable, a refuge
from the hurly-burly of the world. Now that it was crammed from wall to wall
with several chattering MacNeils and their friends, the room seemed small and
cluttered and not a little cramped. Hawk and Fisher were the last to arrive, and
hung back by the door to look the place over before plunging in. Fisher was
interested in who was talking to whom, and what that implied. Hawk wanted to
know where Katrina was, so he could be sure to avoid her, and how many exits
there were to the room. He always liked to know where the doors were, in case he
had to leave in a hurry. You picked up habits like that, living in Haven. He was
relieved to note there was only the one door. It simplified things. He turned
his attention to the gathering.
David, Holly, and Arthur were standing with their backs to the fireplace,
toasting each other with cups of steaming punch. They were smiling and laughing
as though they didn't have a care in the world. As though they'd forgotten all
about the dead man and the disguised freak. Hawk sniffed, and shrugged inwardly.
The Quality were well known for ignoring things they didn't want to think about.
Behind them, Greaves was down on his knees, encouraging the crackling fire with
vigorous use of a poker. He had his coat off and his sleeves rolled up, and
looked thoroughly disgusted with the whole business. Presumably in the past he'd
had underlings he could call on to deal with such menial tasks.
Over by the desk, Marc had backed Katrina into a corner and was apparently
addressing her about something earnest and worthy and incredibly dull. Certainly
Katrina's desperation was becoming clearer by the minute as she smiled
mechanically and looked past Marc for something she could use as an excuse to
escape him. Hawk looked quickly away before she could lock eyes with him, and
watched thoughtfully as Alistair took a book from one of the shelves and flipped
slowly through it. Jamie and Brennan were arguing quietly about something just
behind him, and Alistair was going to great pains to make it clear he wasn't
listening. Hawk nudged Fisher's elbow, and the two of them moved over to join
Alistair. Hawk had a strong feeling Alistair was keeping something back, apart
from the matter of the Red Marches, and this seemed as good a time as any to
find out what. Alistair looked up as they approached, and nodded amiably.
'Something interesting?' said Fisher, glancing at the book Alistair was holding.
'Not really, my dear. Just old Family history.' He snapped the book shut and
replaced it on the shelf. 'You're looking very fresh, Isobel. The short rest
seems to have agreed with you. In fact, you look quite splendid. Tell me, is
there a young man in your life yet?'
'Oh, yes,' said Fisher. 'Can't seem to get rid of him. What about you, Alistair?
Do you have any Family of your own, back in the Red Marches?'
'No. They all died some time ago. I've been on my own ever since. But I still
come, when the Family calls. As we all do.' He looked round the crowded room,
and scowled disapprovingly. 'Though in my day we came for the sake of the
Family, not ourselves. Look at them; gathered together like so many vultures,
