By His Command. Justine Elyot

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      ‘I’ll get you into a corset,’ he said. ‘Just you see if I don’t.’

      I removed my face from his jacket lapel and tilted it to meet his eyes.

      ‘Is that a threat or a promise?’

      ‘Both.’

      Looking into his eyes was a bad mistake. How on earth was I supposed to …?

      There were things I ought to do. Think? Was that one of them? Or … breathe?

      Kiss. Yes, of course, it was obvious. I was supposed to kiss. There wasn’t anything else I could do.

      And there it was again, Russian leather, spice, some kind of vintage aftershave, coiling into me and binding my senses to it. I had lain awake night after night trying to capture this feeling, but when it came it was so much bigger and denser and more all-consuming than any memory.

      And something had been missing from my memory, something that came right back to the forefront of my mind within seconds of our lips locking. I had tried to remember the feel of it, the smell of it, the all-enveloping nature of it, and had some success, especially in my dreams. But I had forgotten the pulse of uncertainty that beat through the sensation. What’s going to happen next?

      Because that was the one thing you could never know, not when you were with Jasper Jay.

      In the sensual rapture of it all, I lost my grip on where we were and who I was and what I was supposed to be doing until the sound of a footfall on the gravel outside the window reminded me.

      I pinched his cheek, and the surprise of it ended our kiss and made him frown rather thrillingly down at me. He’d get me for that later. Not now, though, because now was in working hours.

      ‘I think the boss is outside,’ I whispered.

      ‘No, the boss is inside,’ he answered without missing a beat. I flapped a hand at his shoulder.

      ‘You know what I mean. He won’t be happy to catch me with a personal visitor.’

      ‘So?’

      ‘So let me up.’ I tried to wrench myself out of Jasper’s grasp but he wasn’t having it.

      To my considerable horror, he laid me flat on the sofa and hovered over me, a menacing leer on his face, so close to mine that it blurred.

      ‘Jasper,’ I squeaked, and the door opened.

      ‘I do beg your pardon.’ Colin Cutts’ voice was frosty to say the least. ‘I seem to be interrupting something.’

      ‘Oh, don’t apologise.’ Jasper’s tone was airy. He straightened himself and stood, holding out a hand for Colin to shake.

      I remained in my supine position, unable to think of anything to say or do that might improve this situation.

      ‘Sarah?’ Colin looked between me and Jasper, apparently at a loss.

      ‘Yes, you did interrupt something, but it doesn’t matter,’ said Jasper. ‘I was working on blocking a scene, you see. Trying to establish where I need my actors to be and how they should move.’

      ‘Blocking a scene?’ echoed Colin.

      ‘Yes. I’m so sorry. I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Sometimes I get a little above myself and expect to be recognised, which is terribly arrogant, I know.’ He produced a card from his inner jacket pocket and handed it over. ‘Jasper Jay.’

      ‘The director?’ said Colin, turning the card over in his fingers.

      ‘That’s right. Sarah and I are … good friends … and when she told me she was working here, I decided to come and visit, for location scouting purposes.’

      Colin’s ears pricked up at this.

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Yes. I’m working on a Victorian-set project and I need authentic period locations. This would be absolutely perfect … of course, you’d have to put it to your trustees …’

      ‘Why don’t you step into my office, Mr Jay? I’d be very interested in discussing this further with you.’

      ‘Of course.’

      I watched, barely able to comprehend how the hell Jasper pulled this one off, as the two men left me to my own devices on the chaise longue and disappeared to the reception area.

      I was grateful of the opportunity to catch my breath, for all sorts of reasons, but one really stood out from the crowd.

      Jasper was back.

      Jasper was back and he still wanted me.

      Did I still want him?

      My body thought it knew the answer to that one.

      I paced about the room, unable to keep still until I saw Jasper emerge from the reception building and run over to the Victorian house. I went outside to intercept him. He was wreathed in scintillating smiles.

      ‘What have you made poor Colin agree to?’ I asked, once he was within earshot.

      ‘He’s going to lend me the Victorian house every evening until Christmas,’ he said.

      ‘So you really are making a costume drama? That wasn’t a fib?’

      ‘Are you calling me a liar, Ms Wells?’ His voice was low in his throat and he took hold of my fingers and squeezed them before returning to dazzling-beam mode. ‘Actually, I haven’t decided. I might well do. There’s a script that interests me.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Yes. And it’s quite a racy one, although I haven’t told your man that. I thought that you and I could spend a few evenings … going through it …’

      My jaw dropped.

      ‘You mean you’ve talked Mr Cutts into letting you turn the museum into your private depraved Victorian sex den?’

      He laughed.

      ‘Exactly. We start tonight. Just me and you – and perhaps I might bring along my box of tricks. What do you think?’

      ‘I think you’ve got the nerve of the devil,’ I said.

      ‘That’s not all,’ he whispered into my ear.

      * * *

      Rob was not best pleased at losing his cinema companion but I think he accepted that he stood slightly less than no chance against Jasper Jay. I had to spend a wearying afternoon fielding endless questions about Jasper and our relationship, not quite knowing whether I should present us as a couple or keep it to myself.

      In the end, I opted for the latter, explaining the official version of the story, which was that I’d spent the summer cataloguing his collection of antiques and we had СКАЧАТЬ