‘OK,’ agreed Beth hoarsely.
At that moment the wire door of the kitchen opened and Daniel appeared. Both women started guiltily and Beth wondered whether Daniel had overheard their conversation but there was nothing in the least self-conscious about his manner when he spoke.
‘I’ve got the filly in one of the loose boxes now, Beth,’ he said. ‘I thought you might like to come and see her get started up.’
Beth blinked.
‘Started up?’ she echoed in bafflement. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s a term used by one of the finest horse trainers in the world,’ he explained, ‘who just happens to live in this valley. He doesn’t like to talk about breaking in horses because it sounds as if you’re breaking their spirit. This is a method of persuading a horse to accept a rider which is based totally on trust, not fear. No force is ever used and the animal itself makes the choice to accept the rider.’
‘All right. That sounds interesting,’ agreed Beth. ‘I’d like to see it.’
‘Come on, then.’
Daniel led her outside to the training pen. This was a large circular structure about fifty feet in diameter with a solid wall about eight feet high and a roof. Taking Beth’s hand, he showed her up a ramp to an observation deck.
‘Now this is something really worth seeing,’ he told her. ‘We’ve got a two-year-old thoroughbred filly who is completely unbroken but half an hour from now I’m going to have a saddle on her back and ride her around here.’
‘In half an hour?’ echoed Beth. ‘That’s impossible!’
‘Just watch,’ said Daniel. ‘Once I gain her trust, anything is possible.’
He touched Beth’s cheek lightly and then strode away down the ramp. Five minutes later Daniel led the horse into the ring. Beth let out a soft sigh of admiration at the sight of the beautiful animal standing still in a shaft of sunlight. The filly was about fifteen hands high, a dark bay in colour, with a white blaze on her forehead, and she was obviously very, very nervous. Her head tossed restlessly against the halter, her eyes rolled showing the whites and she stamped her feet, letting out nervous, protesting whinnies. But Daniel calmly led her into the centre of the pen and introduced himself by rubbing his hand around the horse’s forehead. After a while, when she seemed to accept him, he moved around to the rear of her and, standing clear of any possible kicks, suddenly pitched a long line towards her rear quarters.
With a flurry of panic the filly took flight and cantered round and round the pen, but Daniel followed her, pursuing her in circles and keeping up the same movement with the line. The exhausting flight continued, but after a while Daniel positioned himself so that the animal had to turn and go in the opposite direction. It was at this point that Beth began to watch with total absorption. Some silent dialogue seemed to be going on between Daniel and the animal. She saw him watching closely and followed his gaze, but could see nothing herself except that one of the animal’s ears seemed to stay still while the other one twitched. Bit by bit the filly’s head began to tip and her neck bent. Slowly Daniel coiled the line and stood with his eyes down. Holding her breath, Beth saw the animal take a hesitant step towards him, then another, then stop still, uncertainly looking at Daniel. The silence lengthened and Beth became acutely conscious of the motes of dust dancing in the sunlight, the smell of horse sweat and the animal’s soft, whickering breath. Picking its way delicately across the ring, the horse suddenly butted the man playfully in the chest. Beth was so moved that she had to swallow hard as she watched Daniel affectionately rubbing the filly’s forehead. Looking down at her watch, she could scarcely believe that no more than four minutes had passed since they first entered the ring.
From here on everything seemed easy. Before long the filly was following Daniel around the pen. From time to time he stopped and rubbed her affectionately all over her back and legs, and when the bond between them seemed to be firmly established he brought in a saddle and bridle and allowed her to look it over. Then in easy stages he persuaded the filly to let him put the unfamiliar equipment on her back. The only frightening moment for Beth was when Daniel at last flung himself into the saddle. After a moment’s outraged paralysis the horse bucked fiercely all the way around the ring. But Daniel simply laughed and patted her neck. At the end of the half-hour, just as he had promised, he was riding the horse serenely around the pen and it was clear that a warm bond of affection had developed between them. At this point he raised his hand in a brief salute to Beth and walked the animal quietly away.
‘Well, what did you think of it?’ he asked when he returned five minutes later.
Beth stared at him, taking in every detail of his broad powerful shoulders, the dark hair visible through his open-necked check shirt, the way his jeans clung to his muscular thighs. Taking in also the warmth and sense of achievement that glowed in his dark eyes. She thought of the gentleness and patience Daniel had shown in dealing with the nervous filly and felt a whimsical pang of sympathy with the animal. Like the thoroughbred horse, Beth both yearned and feared to trust him. But a man who could show such affection to a dumb animal must be good at heart. Mustn’t he?
‘I thought it was wonderful,’ she said honestly. ‘It was one of the most moving experiences I’ve ever had in my life.’
Daniel’s lean brown fingers reached out and touched her cheek.
‘Good,’ he murmured. He made a slight movement towards her and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. She felt her lips part in anticipation, but he simply touched her on the shoulder and moved past her towards the house. She followed after him with a turbulent feeling of regret. Jenny’s warning rang in her ears. ‘Don’t fall in love with him.’ But she knew it was too late. For better or worse, she already had.
CHAPTER NINE
THE realisation that she was in love with Daniel threw Beth into a tailspin of panic. A few minutes’ quiet reflection soon convinced her of one thing. The mere fact that Daniel was kind to animals didn’t necessarily mean that he was trustworthy when it came to people. If she had any sense, she would ruthlessly crush these emotions before they raged totally out of control. It had been bad enough when she had only felt disturbingly attracted to him. But to have lost her heart to him was sheer madness. Worse still, it was a madness that showed no sign of abating.
Fortunately the Kronborgs invited them both to dinner and there was enough noise, laughter and confusion at the table for Beth’s quietness to pass unremarked. With Jake holding forth about body-building, Candice trying to wheedle money for a rock concert and Amy spilling stew in her lap, Beth could sit unnoticed. A fate for which she was silently grateful. The aroma of beef and jacket potatoes, the lamplight winking off the silver, the buzz of conversation all blurred into a dim and unimportant background as she sat watching Daniel with a kind of desperate yearning.
No, he wasn’t really good-looking at all, she decided. His eyebrows were too fierce, his nose too powerful, his jaw too aggressive. And even if the sight of his muscular brown arms upraised in an emphatic argument with Eric did cause a strange fluttering deep inside her, she knew it was foolish. Just a quiet, crazy disturbance in her usual calm good sense, not worth worrying about. Perhaps the best thing to do was to let this odd obsession take its course and then it wouldn’t bother her any more. Maybe if she just looked at him as much as she liked and let her tantalising fantasies flow freely, she would get over it all much faster. Resting her chin on her hands, she gazed mistily at him, wondering what it would be like to run her hands down the taut, flat muscles of his belly...
‘Is something wrong, Beth?’
His voice jarred her back to reality. Colour washed through her face and her heart thudded fiercely. It doesn’t work! she thought in torment. It only makes it worse and, oh, help, he knows...
‘N-no, nothing!’ she stammered.
Their eyes met and held. A flickering, provocative smile hovered around the edges of Daniel’s mouth and the room seemed to spin away. All that r
emained was the shrewd, knowing look on Daniel’s face and the unsteady hammering of Beth’s heart. She wanted to leap to her feet and flee, but was held captive by the chains of good manners, normality, the need to pretend that nothing was happening. Nothing at all.
‘I thought I’d drive back to LA tomorrow,’ announced Daniel, his eyes still boring into her, still full of questions, ‘start setting up the shop on Rodeo Drive. You can come with me if you like. Unless you’d rather stay here and get started on the production end of the business?’
‘No... Yes...I—I would,’ replied Beth disjointedly. ‘Rather stay here I mean.’
The intolerable nature of her predicament was just beginning to sink in. What she really wanted to do at this moment was to vanish through the floor. Or, failing that, race out of the room and catch a plane back to Australia where with luck she would never make such a fool of herself again. But the fact was that she was trapped. Daniel had spent countless thousands of dollars on refurbishing the barn and leasing the shop in Los Angeles. She couldn’t leave now, just because of the ridiculous and embarrassing fact that she had fallen in love with him. All she could do was try and pretend it hadn’t happened.
‘No, I’d rather stay here,’ she repeated. And this time, to her relief, it was her business voice that spoke. Cool, crisp, controlled. ‘I’ve got heaps of work to do and I’ll probably manage better on my own.’
It was true in a way. She did manage better on her own than if Daniel had been there to torment her with his brooding dark eyes, the touch of his strong hands, the careless grace of his movements. Well, at least in the daytime she managed better, when she could spend twelve or fourteen hours at a stretch drawing and cutting and planning and telephoning. Hasty discussions with Wendy, long sessions pacing the workroom floor to check the progress of the garments, endless hassles with fabric supplies and tradesmen—these all helped to dull the longing for Daniel.
But at night it was a different matter. When she withdrew to her cottage at eight or nine o’clock, it was still too early to sleep. Sometimes she filled the lonely hours writing letters to her mother about her new life. Sometimes she thought about Warren, but Warren seemed curiously remote and unimportant. Most of the time she ended up doing exactly what she had dreaded—mooning around thinking about Daniel. One night she lay on her bed and made a list of all the things she knew about him, but the facts seemed curiously lifeless. Thirty-six years old, born and raised in Boston, only child of divorced parents, former film producer and director, current business entrepreneur, dark-haired, dark-eyed, unmarried. Yet the list didn’t capture the extraordinary magnetism and vitality that was so typical of Daniel, the way the air in a room seemed to become electrically charged when he walked in. It didn’t explain why he was so tempestuously attractive to women, but had never married. And it didn’t tell Beth whether his interest in her was simply a sexual game or the first turbulent sign of an answering love. The uncertainty tormented her so badly that in the end she did what she had sworn she wouldn’t do. She telephoned his apartment in Los Angeles. A woman’s voice answered. Sunny Martino’s voice. Beth felt as if she had been struck in the face.
‘Is Daniel there, please?’ she asked, wondering if the tightness in her throat meant that she was catching the flu.
‘I’ll get him,’ replied Sunny.
Was it Beth’s imagination or did the actress’s voice sound just as taut and unfriendly as her own?
Daniel came on the line and Beth sat as if she were paralysed. Overjoyed to hear his voice and yet hating him, because he had Sunny there at ten-thirty at night and not her. Why? What were they doing? Did she even want to know?
‘Beth? Is something wrong?’ The sharp note of concern in his voice made her feel guilty and foolish.
‘No...I just wanted to talk to you... That is, yes. I have a problem with Customs about the wool and fabric imports from Australia.’
She went on talking haltingly, agonisingly, wondering if she ought to just slam down the phone and never speak to him again.
‘How about if I drive up tomorrow and sort this out?’ he cut in. ‘That would be best. I’ll take you to lunch in Solvang.’
Solvang was a delight. Picture-postcard pretty with Danish windmills and flower boxes of red geraniums, yellow marigolds and blue lobelias. They ate in an outdoor restaurant at a table with a shady umbrella and a pretty blonde waitress in a white lace blouse and some kind of dirndl pinafore frisked around with plates of Danish delicacies. But Beth didn’t taste a bite of it. Not a bite. Because she was so busy devouring Daniel with her eyes and wishing savagely that he hadn’t come or that she knew where on earth she stood with him. I love him, she thought angrily. But there’s no future in it.
As she sat pushing a wedge of fresh cantaloupe melon around her plate Daniel suddenly surprised her by leaning forward and trailing his finger down the inside of her wrist.
‘Did you miss me?’ he asked abruptly.
She gave him a startled look and for a moment she was on the brink of blurting out just how much she had missed him and why, and then she remembered Sunny in his apartment at night and her mouth hardened.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said lightly. ‘You’ve only been gone for a few days. Why should I have missed you?’
He shrugged.
‘No reason,’ he admitted. Then he leaned towards her and his voice dropped to a deep, soft burr too low to be heard by anyone else. ‘Except that we did agree that from here on you’d make the next move. I thought perhaps this was it.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Beth sharply. ‘I only phoned you because I wanted to discuss my problems with Customs.’
‘All right,’ agreed Daniel with a sigh. ‘If that’s what you want.’
With his usual efficiency he had disposed of her query within two minutes, but to her relief he showed no sign of returning to their earlier conversation. Instead he poured himself another glass of Danish beer and raised it to her in a brief salute.
‘Your designs did well at the trade show in New York,’ he said. ‘Congratulations. I suppose you’ve heard all about it by now?’
‘Yes, I have,’ agreed Beth. And perhaps because his intense scrutinising gaze made her feel so uncomfortable she was tempted to add, ‘Warren phoned and told me.’
It wasn’t true, but Daniel didn’t know that.
‘You’re still seeing him then?’ he demanded.
‘Yes,’ lied Beth.
‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for,’ said Daniel contemptuously.
Beth was already beginning to regret the malicious impulse that had prompted her statement, so she hastily changed the subject.
‘How’s the shop on Rodeo Drive coming along?’ she asked. The hostile anger still lurked in Daniel’s dark eyes, but he replied civilly enough.
‘Fine. I think we should be ready for the grand opening on Monday week if that suits you.’
Beth nodded.
‘Yes, it will,’ she agreed. ‘Wendy and the girls have been working like demons. We’ll have plenty of stock to put on the racks.’
‘Good,’ agreed Daniel briskly. ‘Then I’ll organise everything at the LA end. I thought maybe a fashion parade out in the mall with a string quartet, champagne, hors-d’oeuvres, a few well-known actors and actresses to kick things off.’
‘Like Sunny Martino, I suppose,’ suggested Beth tartly.
Daniel looked at her thoughtfully.
‘Now why the acid note in your voice when you mention Sunny?’ he challenged. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do think Sunny would help our cause and she is willing to come along and spend money and be photographed. Besides, she asked me to pass on an invitation to you.’
‘An invitation?’ said Beth swiftly. ‘What kind of invitation?’
‘She wants to host a small dinner party after the opening. Only eight or ten people. She says she’d like to get to know you better. Will you come?’
Beth stared at him in dismay. An unpleasant feeli
ng of confusion swept over her. She should have been grateful for Sunny’s offer and would have been if it had not been for her connection to Daniel. As it was she felt miserably reluctant to be under an obligation to the actress.
‘Do I have to?’ she protested.
Daniel sighed impatiently.
‘She’s doing you a favour, Beth,’ he snapped. ‘Having Sunny Martino wear your designs and publicise them will do wonders for your career. And what’s more Sunny is one of my oldest and dearest friends. I’m not going to give you any orders, since you seem to have some kind of weird objection to my doing that. But yes, I want you to be there.’
The ordeal was every bit as bad as Beth had feared. Oh, the opening of the shop on Rodeo Drive went well enough. In fact it was just like a miniature repetition of the performance at the Cadogan Hall fashion show. Clients and spectators thronged the pedestrian mall, a string quartet played light music, beautiful models paraded up and down the outdoor catwalk, gallons of champagne were drunk and the cash register rang merrily for a couple of hours. But the really hard part began when they all returned to Sunny’s house in Beverly Hills. It was a strange structure of grey stucco that looked as if it had been made out of children’s building blocks. Two huge windows shaped like Thermos flasks projected from the front wall and there were four identical white garages below them. Sunny parked her Jaguar in one of these and then urged her guests up the stairway to one side of the house. Beth had met them all at the opening at Rodeo Drive, but had forgotten half their names. So it was rather a relief when Sunny repeated the introductions once they were inside the spacious entrance hall.
‘All right, now,’ she cried with a shrill squeal of laughter. ‘Do you all know who you are? Well, I guess you guys all know each other but Beth probably doesn’t remember so, left to right, me, Sunny; Daniel; Beth; Lane Galloway; Alice Hutchinson; Nick Weinberg; Leonie Cleaver and Scott Barrett. Right, now let’s go get ourselves a drink.’
The Bride of Santa Barbara Page 13