He wasn't surprised when Sophie excused herself to follow Jeremy upstairs. Nor was he surprised when Theo called after her, "You will join us, my dear, when you have seen to your brother. Don't forget, Sophie."
"I won't forget, Uncle," she said, and Ryder heard something odd in her voice, something he didn't understand at all. "I'll be down shortly."
Ryder set out to make himself a congenial companion. He was amusing, his anecdotes of the first order. He encouraged Theo Burgess to talk and once he started, Ryder sat back, thinking about what he hoped would happen.
When Sophia came out on the veranda, she was carrying a tray and on that tray were glasses of rum punch. Ryder wasn't at all surprised.
"How delightful," Theo said. "I'm glad you remembered, Sophie. I trust the punch is up to the Burgess standards? I assume you enjoy a rum punch in the evenings, Ryder?"
"Why, most assuredly, sir," Ryder said.
So this was it.
He accepted the glass Sophia handed to him. He thought her hand shook a bit. But no, he must have imagined it.
Theo proposed a toast. Ryder clicked his glass to theirs and then pretended to drink.
He then rose, glass in hand, and walked to the wooden railing, leaning his elbows on it, and looking out toward the glistening sea in the distance. There was a half-moon and the scene in front of him was spectacular. But he really didn't see it. He turned to face Sophia and Theo, made a toast to this beauty he really didn't see, and again pretended to drink. As he turned away again, he dumped the contents of the glass into the vivid pink blooms of the hibiscus bush just below the veranda. He hoped he hadn't killed the plant.
Now it was time to act. He turned, smiling widely, showing his empty glass, and said, "Why don't we take a bit of a stroll, Sophia?"
She didn't want to. She wanted him to just leave. She didn't want him to be sprawled naked in the cottage with Dahlia leaning over him, fondling him. She didn't want to hear him yell again in his man's release.
"Yes, Sophia, go along, my dear."
"Do bring us each another glass of that delicious punch."
"Yes, an excellent idea," Theo said and he felt the blood speed up, felt the triumph. Sophia had been quite wrong about Sherbrooke. He was only a young man, not all that intelligent or sly, quite easy really, quite predictable. In a sense it was disappointing. There was no challenge in him, not really. Sophia had been wrong.
Sophie brought each of them a fresh glass. Again, Ryder accepted the glass she thrust toward him. He offered her his arm. "Let's walk a bit. It's a beautiful night, isn't it? You can tell me some more of the island's history."
"Oh yes."
He drew her into the garden on the eastern side of the house. It was darker here, but the scent of all the flowers was stronger, nearly overpowering. There was no one about, just the two of them, each with a glass of rum punch in his hand.
He said easily as he walked slowly beside her, "You don't look the whore tonight."
"No."
"However, last night was something of a sensation, wasn't it? Quite memorable, but not really, but surely I am quite wrong. It must have been memorable."
"Yes, of course it was. You seemed to enjoy yourself."
"And you, Sophia? Did you enjoy yourself as well?"
Still, she kept walking, and showed him only her profile. "Naturally. I wouldn't have wanted to make love with you had I not expected pleasure from it. You are quite competent as a lover."
"You screamed quite loudly when you climaxed."
She was silent as the night.
"I found your skills quite adequate, more than just quite, actually. Did you enjoy taking me in your mouth? You took me so deeply I feared I would gag you. But you didn't gag, at least I don't think you did."
"I think such things should be left to the cottage, don't you, Ryder?"
"Let's stop a moment. What is that bush over there? Yes, that one with the wispy yellow leaves?"
He took her glass from her, saw her stiffen slightly, then ease, as relaxed as could be, when he set both glasses on a stone bench. And he knew, simply knew, that she was memorizing that her glass was the one on the left. Well, it wouldn't matter. When she turned away from him, he slipped the packet of powder from his pocket and quickly poured the contents into her glass, stirring it with his finger.