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“Well! He … look we had better keep walking. I’ll tell you as we go. He began by tying me down, and then he went to the drawer ...” Gemma could pick up no more, but she was now in a state of extreme excitement and frustration. “Just what had he got from the drawer, and what had he done with it?” her brain screamed to know. She gulped down the Sauternes as she touched her nipples and squeezed her thighs together hard. “Natalie or James? Natalie or James?” she kept asking herself as she visualised each of them in turn. “Oh Natalie, why didn’t I get you over here today?” she muttered to herself, in a quasi decision between the two. She wondered if there was a word for aural voyeurism. That cameo of a conversation, on top of the sensual pampering she had been indulging in, had set her on fire. It was time for more Schloss – she marched down the slope towards the house at a pace which generated a cooling breeze against her nude body, and threatened to lift her wide sun hat from her head.. She collected her things and headed for the door when the alarm bell began to sound from the gate. She opened the door and heard shouts from outside.“Open the Gate! Open the Gate!”As she ran across the courtyard, the gates slowly parted. Two riders crossed through, drawing to a stop in front of Marguerite. One was bundled in blankets and slumped heavily in the saddle. The other, a muscular, bearded man, jumped down and closed the distance to Marguerite. “Get help! He is ill!”She suddenly recognized the voice.“Robert? Is that you?”He was no longer a skinny, little boy. He was a man, a soldier. He was trying to help the bundled man down from the horse. “Help me with him!” shouted Robert as the stableman came forward to help. The man pulled the thick hood back and shook himself free of the blankets. His hair was long and unruly. His face covered with a thick beard, but when she saw his eyes, she knew him instantly. “Jean!” she shouted and ran forward, throwing herself at her husband..
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