I turned my attention back to Lady Olivia. She had just reached the chair and was slipping into it. For some seconds I stood simply staring at her, mesmerized, actually helpless in the pull of her sexuality. Totally at odds with her cool expression, her carefully measured greeting, her severe hairstyle, and dull, somber clothing, her movements were shockingly sensuous.
She actually reminded me of those insects that have no voices and communicate by vibrating their bodies. Her body was communicating with me. The touch-me-not image she had created for her new amnesiac self was not the truth. Behind the façade lived a supremely sexual creature. The clue was in the startlingly red, come-hither lipstick.
I tore my eyes away, dropped her forms on the table, lowered myself back into my chair, and faced her. She was watching me like a cat, dignified, detached, and unblinking. Up close and facing the light from the window, her eyes were like two slicks of liquid mercury, completely opaque. I didn’t know it then, but I was as doomed as the Red Indians at the Fort Pitt siege who were tricked into accepting small pox infected blankets and handkerchiefs from their white enemies.
‘Lady Olivia—’
‘You must call me Olivia. Lady Olivia is too grand.’ She wrinkled her nose charmingly. ‘It makes me feel awfully pretentious.’
I grinned at her. ‘Nervous, Olivia?’
She smiled back. Great smile. ‘Extremely.’
‘Don’t be. It’s painless.’
‘Oh! Good.’
‘Right then. Let’s see what we have here.’ I pulled her forms toward me and glanced at them quickly.
Age: Twenty-five.
Not on any prescription medication.
No to the illegal drugs question—or at least none that she wanted to disclose.
No to photosensitive epilepsy
No nervous disorders of any kind.
Non-smoker.
Alcohol consumption: Two to five units a week.
No allergies.
No phobias that she can think of.
In short—a model citizen.
‘It all looks good,’ I said looking up.
She was staring at me again with that intent cat-look of hers. ‘That’s marvelous. So you will be able to hypnotize me?’
‘I’ll give it a try. As I explained to your stepmother, not everybody is susceptible to hypnosis.’
‘Oh.’ In that one little blameless sound was a world of disappointment.
I leaned back, my chair tipping, and regarded her with a friendly expression. ‘Tell me, Olivia, what are you expecting to come out of your session?’
Her hands fluttered. ‘I suppose I want to be able to remember my past—or at least some of it.’
I nodded. ‘Do you remember nothing at all of your past?’
‘Almost nothing.’
I found my eyes roving her face distractedly. Her complexion was milky white and when she spoke she hardly moved her mouth at all.
‘What do you remember?’