Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

it?” Sir Toby laughed. “I thought it had to be. I didn’t think you fancied me for my looks.”
    Fancied him? Perhaps I had gushed a little too much the night before. “I really just admired your swimming pool and your yacht.”
    He patted my knee. “That’s all right. I understand. It’s not easy trying to survive in the big world these days. You young models need what the Yanks call a sugar daddy. Well, I’m as sugary as they come.”
    I stood up. “Oh, no, I really didn’t mean . . .”
    “What’s the matter? Getting cold feet now we’re alone?” He laughed. “Too late for that, my dear. We’re out at sea and the only people within shouting distance are crew members trained by me to look the other way, no matter what.” And he grabbed my arm, pulling me down onto him. Then he tried to kiss me with big wet lips. I squirmed and wriggled. “Let go of me. You’ve got the wrong idea.” (Yes, I know a lady never says “got” but this was a stressful moment.)
    “But I have a very good idea,” Sir Toby said. “I like ’em young and virginal and believe me, my dear, you’ll like what I can offer.” And his large, meaty hands were fumbling to remove my fisherman’s shirt.
    “Stop it, please,” I said, grabbing one of his hands.
    “A touch of modesty. I can understand that,” he said. “Well, we’ve a good selection of bedrooms. Young ladies often like the pink one. Lovely bouncy bed in there. Come on.” He grabbed my wrist and started to drag me across the saloon, then down a long wood-paneled corridor. My heart was beating so loudly that I was sure it must have echoed back from those walls.
    “Let go of me,” I shouted, as anger overtook fear. “I am not going to bed with you and that is that.”
    “Frankly, you don’t have much choice, my dear.” He continued to propel me forward.
    “When we get back I’ll go to the police and report you for rape.”
    He gave a great guffaw of laughter at this. “To the police? For rape? A young girl who begs Sir Toby to take her out on his lovely yacht? Flutters her eyes at him? The police would understand that you got what you were asking for. They are men of the world. Now, shut up and be a good girl.”
    “I want to be a good girl,” I said, “and that doesn’t include making love to a complete stranger.”
    “Oh, come on. You bright young things . . .”
    “And another thing—I’m not a bright young thing. I’m a”—I was about to say “member of the royal family”; I only swallowed it down at the last second—“respectable girl from a good family,” I finished lamely. It only made him laugh all the more as he tried to shove me down a steep staircase ahead of him. I turned and kicked him hard on the shin, then pushed past him back onto the deck. Then I ran. I don’t know where I thought I was running to. It was a big yacht, but I couldn’t play catch-me-if-you-can forever, could I?
    The breeze had turned into a strong wind and met me full in the face as I came out onto the deck. Also there was now a big swell. I thought about diving off and swimming but the land looked awfully far away. Good swimmer that I was, I didn’t think I could make it. Besides, great storm clouds were now moving in closer. I wondered hopefully if this would make us return to port.
    “You can’t escape, you know, you silly girl,” came Sir Toby’s voice after me.
    I ran to the other end of the deck and ducked behind a life raft. Then, over the throb of our engine I heard the higher whine of a speedboat. I stepped out and waved desperately as the boat came racing toward us, sending up a sheet of spray. The speedboat driver waved back and approached the yacht. When he was close enough I saw that it was Jean-Paul de Ronchard.
    “Jean-Paul!” I shouted.
    He slowed the speedboat to a crawl.
    “Help me. I want to get off!” I shouted.
    “Come on then. Jump!” he shouted back.
    It was a long way down to the water and the boat was rising and falling with the swell of the waves. I hesitated.
    “You do know how to swim, don’t you?” Jean-Paul shouted.
    “Of course, but . . .”
    “Then jump. I won’t let you drown.” He had cut the motor and bobbed alongside.
    “Ah, there you are, you minx,” Sir Toby boomed, coming around the corner toward me.
    I took a deep breath, climbed over the railing and jumped. I hit cold water, went under, then came up to see the speedboat a few yards away.
    “Here.” Jean-Paul threw me a life belt. I