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Now they looked set to drive him to the brink of madness. Every time he thought he had their relationship pegged, she invented a new twist to torment him. Mentally gritting his teeth, Jack set about the task of seducing his wife. The kiss deepened by almost imperceptible degrees, his caresses becoming increasingly intimate until she was warmed through. She had wondered there for a minute. She took a sip of wine to fortify herself. His occasional references to Devon, and particularly Dartmoor, sang with life and humour, and if he was sometimes pompous and often paternalistic, the passion he felt for the land made up for it. I looked at Holmes, then looked at him more attentively. Five minutes will make us only fashionably late. Still, in the end I was presentable. I caught up a thin woollen wrap and hurried downstairs. Holmes was in the porch, and as soon as he heard me coming he stepped out onto the drive and opened a huge, bright green umbrella over our heads, and escorted me the few feet to the sleek closed touring car that awaited us.
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He went down again as hands grabbed me from behind. I rammed my heel into the foot of one guard, then nailed him in the temple, and when his grip slipped, spun to grasp the neck of the other. I had time to register the surprise on his face before my knee came up, his head went down, and he joined his partner in la-la land. At one point, when I sensed I was getting closer to Ian, but with no clear passageway to the other side of Flamingo Road, I had to skirt two chain-link fences and run along the freeway, car horns honking as they blew by me in the opposite direction. The olfactory trail broke off at an abandoned warehouse framed in concrete and chipped pink stucco, accessible by only one door. She was shocked by the impact of their bare flesh, by the jolt of electric excitement that came from the briefest and most impersonal of touches. She wanted a lot more than that. She wanted to cover him with kisses and taste the salt on his skin. She wanted to feel his hands hard against her body. Three years before his mother had had a stroke that paralyzed her on one side. In the last months she seemed to be slipping away, in a world of her own, talking a lot about her mother. It was painful and hard to watch.
But even there, the atmosphere had calmed. His touch was exquisite, his timing faultless. Each night there were new doors to open, new avenues to explore. Each led to the same peak, beyond which lay a selfless void of indescribable sensation. We were thinking of breaking a window and putting someone through when one of the maids told us the scullery boy could pick locks. We got him up here, and he managed to open the door. Christian gave him a moment to compose himself. Unwilling to leave her realm of delight, Antonia clung to the caress, one arm about his neck. Her other hand fluttered along his jaw in pleading supplication. As the closures yielded one by one, he tightened his hold on his passions, ruthlessly harnessing them.
Mine was as stiff as the cardboard in my graduation cap. And that was what Helen was so clearly pointing out. Xavier was only present on this day because it was expected. Both his absence and the money were readily accepted. The thuds of the ball and the squeals of shoes on floor started up again as soon as she was out of the dining hall. She walked and breathed and took joy in the early-morning life of the high desert, the skunks and wild pigs, the tiny pygmy owl returning to its home in a saguaro, and once a family of coatis flickering along the floor of a wash, tails high and long noses snuffling. Flies swirl about, poke into our nostrils, feed from our eyes. My thoughts remain with the Northerner tracking us, however. An invisible cord seems to tie us together, to be tugging me back by my shoulders. By the old schoolhouse, I glance behind. Our stalker is striding past pushcarts of dried fish. In a single jump, I nestle out of view into the limestone doorframe of the Inn of the Two Brothers.