The Perfect Retreat

CHAPTER FIFTEEN




Kitty looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She felt ridiculous. The bodice of the dress was pushing her breasts up so high she could practically rest her chin on them, and the bones of the corset were digging into her ribs.

No wonder they carried smelling salts with them everywhere, thought Kitty as she tried to slip on a shoe without bending over.

Harold’s insistence that Kitty and Merritt attend the ball along with a fully costumed crew and cast had Kitty terrified, but at Willow’s insistence she went to the costume department, where racks of dresses ran along the walls of the trailer, and they squeezed Kitty into a sea-green taffeta ball gown with a wide neckline and small bows at the sleeves. The colour enhanced Kitty’s dark features, and while her bobbed hair wasn’t really the style of the day, the hair and makeup girls had pulled it back and pinned a matching hairpiece fashioned into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.

As she opened the door, she saw Merritt pacing the hallway. Waiting for Willow, she thought. His handsome face broke into a smile when he saw her. ‘You look amazing Kits,’ he said.

‘Thanks, but it’s bloody uncomfortable,’ she said, sighing.

‘It looks wonderful,’ he said. ‘I might just wait and see if Willow needs help.’

Kitty raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I’m sure she’s able to dress herself,’ she said. ‘Anyway, she’s not in there, she’s being dressed in costume,’ said Kitty. ‘I took the children down there to say goodnight and set them up with the babysitter,’ said Kitty.

‘Oh,’ said Merritt, looking dejected.

He had hardly seen Willow since their kiss in the garden yesterday. She had been held back late by Harold, who had wanted to discuss her and Ivo’s scenes, and they had worked till midnight. Exhausted, she had returned to the house to find Merritt asleep in the drawing room. She had carefully laid a rug over him and crept up to bed, disappointed and relieved. All afternoon Merritt’s kiss had remained in her mind, and the longer she thought about it the less it seemed like a good idea.

Then she had been up early to start shooting and had not even had time to see the children, let alone Merritt.

Merritt pulled at his white bow tie and waistcoat. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, his face suddenly clouded with doubt.

‘I think you look great. This look actually suits you,’ said Kitty. It was true; Merritt’s body shape and height gave him the distinct look of a hero. ‘You should be on the front of a romance novel,’ laughed Kitty.

As they walked downstairs together, Kitty’s pace slowed. ‘Hurry up slow coach,’ said Merritt.

‘Shut up. This dress does not encourage fast movements,’ said Kitty. ‘I have no idea how I’m supposed to dance in this. Do you think they’ll have a DJ?’ she asked.

Merritt laughed, ‘Kits, it’s a formal ball, Victorian style. Harold is filming it for flashbacks in the film or something.’

‘Shit,’ said Kitty, almost standing on the hem of the dress. ‘It sounds boring.’

‘I think it’ll be fun,’ said Merritt, his eyes dancing with enthusiasm. Kitty had never seen him like this before.

‘You’re being weird,’ she said. ‘Are you in love with Willow?’ she burst out.

Merritt spun and looked at her on the stairs. ‘No. Why do you say that?’ he barked.

‘Well, I’ve seen the way you look at her, that’s all,’ she answered honestly.

Merritt continued down the stairs silently.

‘Sorry I brought it up,’ said Kitty quietly.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Merritt, but Kitty’s words rang in his ears. Was he in love with Willow? He hardly knew her, and yet something had sparked in him when Kitty asked him.

As they neared the ballroom they took in the chaos, with Harold on a large crane with a camera and a man to work it. Crew who weren’t in the ball scenes were rushing about with cords and tracks and lighting rigs.

Kitty and Merritt stood to the side, alone, waiting for instructions, while other costumed crew laughed and milled about. Kitty felt very isolated even with Merritt by her side.

Harold’s voice boomed out over a loudspeaker.

‘Thank you. I would like silence please. Tonight it’s vital that we get this right. I have a few requests. Please try and be Victorian; gentlemanly men and feminine women. You may flirt and drink the champagne on offer, but please don’t get drunk and ruin my picture.’

Kitty looked up at Harold, who was wearing a silk turban and headphones as he continued his instructions.

‘I have four cameras set up and I also have hidden cameras around. We have dancers coming who will fill the dance floor, but if you are so moved and can do a basic waltz, then please join them. Be yourselves, only be a better, more refined version. And have fun,’ he ordered.

Music floated out over the speakers and Kitty saw a small group of musicians playing along in the corner of the ballroom. Waiters walked about the room in full costume handing out glasses of punch and champagne and Kitty gratefully accepted one.

‘You better take small sips,’ said Merritt, looking at her tiny waist in her dress.

‘Good idea,’ she said, and sipped from the glass delicately.

The mirrored doors of the ballroom opened and Merritt stood silent and expressionless as Willow entered the room. Her dress was a copy of an original Charles Worth, the Chanel of his day. In golden yellow silk with beaded crystals catching the light, the dress came down in a low-cut sweetheart neckline. Lace hung at her shoulders, gently beaded so as to caress her arms when she danced.

Willow’s long blonde hair was swept into an elegant chignon with matching crystal hairpieces, and her earrings were original Victorian gold and diamond teardrops. Kitty felt her mouth drop open at the sight of her employer in all her splendour, and she turned to Merritt, who seemed equally stunned.

Willow stood patiently as a makeup artist powdered her face and décolletage, and then Harold yelled from his perch in the ballroom’s eaves.

‘Ready when you are!’

Kitty felt nervous although she had no idea why. She wondered if he would be here, and she tried to scan the room without looking desperate.

The dancers were gorgeous to watch, and she eventually forgot to look for the boy with the hooded eyes and sexy mouth. Instead, she watched the colour and movement in the centre of the room.

Willow walked over to Kitty and Merritt and snapped her fan at them. ‘What do you think?’ she asked coyly, and Kitty laughed.

‘You look amazing,’ she answered honestly.

‘It’s so uncomfortable,’ said Willow. ‘I’m trying not to fidget.’

‘I know the feeling,’ said Kitty, feeling an itch on her back.

‘You look lovely Kitty,’ said Willow and Merritt nodded.

‘She does look quite the part,’ he said.

‘No compliments for me, Mr Middlemist?’ asked Willow, flirting gently.

Merritt felt his face redden.

‘There are not enough compliments in the world that I could bestow upon you, so instead I will say, “You are beautiful”.’ He bowed slightly as he said this and Willow felt her knees weaken. Any resolve she might have had to tell Merritt that their clandestine kiss on the stone bench was a terrible idea disappeared.

Kitty stepped away silently towards the small group next to them.

‘I wanted to see you last night,’ he said in a low voice to Willow.

‘I know. I got caught up,’ said Willow. The space between them was electric, and she held back the desire to pull his face towards her.

They stood side by side, Merritt standing tall in his costume.

‘Do you dance?’ he asked, looking at the floor of spinning petticoats.

‘A little, although not like that,’ said Willow.

The music stopped and the sound of a waltz rang through the ballroom. Merritt bowed towards Willow again. ‘Will you do me the honour of giving me this dance?’ he asked, and Willow looked at him, surprised.

‘I don’t think Harold wants us to dance,’ she said.

‘We shall start, and if he wants us to stop then we will,’ he said, and taking her arm he led her to the edge of the dance floor, and artfully pulled her into his arms as they turned about the floor.

The other dancers looked at them surprised, but continued dancing around them. Willow had never felt more real and alive, even in the midst of the bizarre setting.

‘Imagine living in these times,’ said Willow, ‘so caught up in rules and reputation.’

‘Yes, I couldn’t do it at all,’ said Merritt.

‘You could have fooled me, with all your bowing and manners,’ laughed Willow.

‘Manners are one thing, but the truth is I am having very modern thoughts about you, Miss Carruthers, and none of them would have passed in Victorian times,’ he whispered into her ear. Willow burst out laughing and tried to stop it.

‘I should be shocked at you, Mr Middlemist,’ she said, tapping him on the shoulder lightly with her fan.

‘I hope you are; I want to shock you,’ he growled, and Willow felt desire in every part of her body.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she whispered. ‘You have to stop or I don’t know what I’ll do.’

Merritt held a respectable distance between them as he turned her about the floor, but he looked into her eyes and smiled a little. ‘What would you do, if you could?’ he asked.

‘Everything,’ she whispered.

‘Tell me,’ he demanded, tightening his grip on her back.

Willow felt herself lean against his arms. She felt lightheaded and strange.

‘I think I might faint,’ she said, and Merritt spun her out onto the terrace into the cool air.

There was no one else out there yet. Willow clasped the edge of the stone balustrade.

‘Are you OK? Should you sit down?’ asked Merritt, concerned.

Willow tried to draw breath and Merritt stood helplessly. ‘I think I should get someone to help you,’ he said, his voice anxious.

‘I don’t need help,’ she said as she turned to him, her eyes flashing.

‘What I need is for you to kiss me,’ she burst out. ‘I’ve been alone for so long, I forgot what it’s like to be wanted, to be desired again. I want you so much I ache. I know you don’t want some sad, washed-up, broke actress with three kids; I wouldn’t want me. And I know you’re not the marrying kind and you travel the world and are generally fabulous, and you think it’s fun to flirt with me; but you have to understand – I am gone. Lost. The minute you look at me I fall apart. I haven’t felt like this in a long, long time.’

Merritt tried to interrupt her but she held her fan out as though it was a sword.

‘Shut up. I don’t expect anything from you, but I can’t play games. I don’t have the time or the energy. If you want to kiss me again, which I am pretty sure you do, then take me – because I’m dying here.’

Merritt started to laugh.

‘What? Do you think I’m tragic?’ she almost yelled at him.

Merritt pulled her to him. ‘No, I told you, I think you’re beautiful,’ he said. He kissed her hard and she fell into his arms, kissing him back.

‘We have to go,’ she said, pulling away from him.

‘Where?’ he asked, breathing heavily.

‘Anywhere.’

‘What about the film? Harold?’ he asked.

‘NOW,’ she demanded, and she pulled Merritt to her again, kissing his mouth so hard he thought she might bite him.

Merritt pulled her towards the stairs.

‘Wait,’ she said, pulling at her dress, which was caught on the stone balustrade. Finally it pulled free, and Merritt took her hand and dragged her across the grass into the darkness.

As they ran they stopped every few steps to kiss and Willow thought she might die from desire, but Merritt kept pulling her along by the hand till they came around to the outside of the house. Merritt stood in front of the wall and then felt inside a gap in the stone. He pulled on a handle and a door shifted open in the side of the house.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ exclaimed Willow, her desire forgotten for a moment.

‘Nope. Secret passage,’ said Merritt, and he pulled her into the tunnel. The door closed behind them. It was completely dark, and Willow stood scared for a moment till Merritt’s calloused hand took hers again.

‘This way,’ he said, and in the darkness she followed him, tripping on the rough granite, but Merritt caught her arm and held her up.

He stopped and pushed on a door with all his body weight while Willow stood there waiting, and suddenly they were in a bedroom.

‘Where are we?’ she asked, looking around the room. It seemed to be untouched: heavy wood furniture and a four-poster bed with a blue silk counterpane. Surprisingly, the room wasn’t dusty. ‘Why’s it so clean?’ she asked Merritt suspiciously.

‘The film production crew cleaned the whole house in case Harold wanted to shoot here.’

Willow felt nervous and silly in her dress in the old-fashioned room. She stood in front of the stone fireplace, her hands clasped in front of her.

Merritt stepped forward. ‘It’s my turn to speak now.’ He held his hand up to Willow’s mouth to stop her speaking.

‘I’m not famous or rich. I am the marrying kind. I was married once, but she cheated on me in a most spectacular fashion. It broke my heart. That’s why I travel. I haven’t ever found anyone that I wanted to stick around for. Till now.’

As Merritt spoke, he pulled at the pearl buttons that ran up her back till the dress fell open, and he slipped it off her shoulders. He kissed her collarbones and his tongue gently flickered on her throat. ‘What I feel is more than desire, and you can do what you want with that statement. I knew as soon as I saw you walking down the stairs as though you owned the place that you were exactly what I needed.’

Willow stood in her petticoat and slip and Merritt moved away from her and walked to the bed, pulling at his tie and undoing his waistcoat. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his jacket and sat in his shirtsleeves, part of his chest showing. Willow felt exposed and vulnerable.

‘Undress,’ commanded Merritt.

‘Pardon?’ asked Willow, her eyes widening.

‘Take off your clothes,’ said Merritt, leaning back languidly on an elbow.

Willow looked at Merritt as though he was a new man. Gone was the angry, bullying gardener. Gone was the opinionated man she had first met, and the gentle listening giant that had held her hand on the stone bench. Instead here was the sexiest man she had ever seen, in Victorian costume, in a room where time had stopped.

Willow smiled at him and pulled at the ribbons on the petticoats. They fell to the floor. Now she stood in Victorian bloomers and a camisole with a corset over the top.

Merritt’s eyes flickered over her and despite all her coverings, Willow felt naked.

She walked towards him and turned her back. ‘Unlace me,’ she said, and Merritt did as she asked. Taking it slow he pulled at each lace, gradually releasing her. Willow felt her ribcage expanding again.

Pulling off the corset, she stepped out of the bloomers and the camisole and stood naked before him, in nothing but the beaded headdress.

‘Jesus you’re beautiful,’ he said, and pulled her towards him onto the bed.

Pulling off his shirt while they kissed passionately, she ran her hands over his chest. He had the body of a man who knew what real work was, tanned and with chest hair and muscles that rippled under her slim hands.

They kissed again, and this time it was slower. Merritt worked his way down her body, kissing her breasts and stomach and between her thighs. Willow arched her back towards him and Merritt slipped out of his trousers and lay next to her.

‘How do you want it?’ he asked her.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her face worried.

‘You tell me what you want and I will do it. There are no strings, no expectations, so tell me. I don’t know you, you don’t know me. Let go.’

Willow lay still. She had never had this offered to her before, and she was unsure what to do with the proposition.

Merritt rolled towards her and leaned above her. ‘You tell me what you want. Do you want me to kiss you here?’ he asked and he kissed her left breast.

‘Yes,’ she murmured as he sucked her left nipple gently.

‘Or here?’ he asked as he moved over to suck her right nipple.

Willow grabbed his face and held it in her hands. ‘Enough with the small talk; just f*ck me and we can fill in the blanks later,’ she demanded, and reaching down she found his cock with her hand and tried to guide it in between her legs.

Merritt rolled on top of her and she parted her legs; he entered her and she arched her back moving in rhythm with him. They flipped over and she straddled him and rode him with a fervour that she didn’t know was in her. ‘Jesus, oh shit!’ she cried as she came, and Merritt watched pleasure wash over her face.

She rolled off him. ‘Your turn,’ she said, trying to catch her breath. Merritt pulled her to him and, spooning her, he stroked her head. ‘Better now?’ he asked and she laughed.

Merritt started to fondle her breasts and she found herself moaning again. He entered her from behind and they moved slowly this time, without the intensity of before; he felt himself moving in and out of her wetness and thrust harder, pushing himself into her. She moaned with ecstasy and he whispered hoarsely, ‘I’m going to come. Come with me.’ Willow let herself go and went for her second orgasm with Merritt, laughing and crying at the same time.

Across the house, Harold watched the footage of Merritt and Willow dancing and then them on the balcony, filmed by the night vision hidden camera. He watched them talking. Arguing perhaps? he wondered, and then he saw them kiss and she fell into his arms.

‘Delightful,’ said Harold in the edit suite, and he clapped his hands together with joy. He sat back in his chair, put his velvet-slippered feet up on the desk, and took a sip of his warm, sweet tea. He raised it to the still on the screen, of Willow in Merritt’s embrace.