'Well, well,' he drawled, 'who have we here? It surely must be Cinderella herself?'
Afterwards Liz was to remember this moment in time, this fraction of a second when she could have held back, could have obeyed reason and logic, instead of yielding to the feeling of utter irresponsibility that swept over her. Abandoning all caution, she took a deep breath and curtsied low.
'The very same, sir,' she answered demurely, the enormity of her thoughts making excitement race through her. Taking his cue beautifully, Adam sketched a mocking half-bow and murmured: 'Allow me,' draping her cape round her shoulders. With his hand lightly under her arm he led her sedately down the corridor. With senses heightened by a state of unreality, Liz saw their reflections mirrored in the windows as they passed, ghost-like, fairy-tale images.
If she was to be Cinderella, then Adam Carlyon was definitely to be Prince Charming.
Tonight had been given to her unexpectedly and she was going to live it to the full… and to hell with the consequences!
CHAPTER 5
One broken dream is not the end of dreaming.
Anon
The drive to the town hall was taken in silence which was broken now and then by Adam, tunelessly humming as he peered through the windscreen. The wipers flicked to and from, the rain being caught in sharp relief by the beam of the Morgan's headlights. Liz glanced at Adam and thought she had never seen him so relaxed, but with a successful first night under his belt, it was only natural that he should be feeling pleased with life. As the car pulled up outside the brightly lit town hall, he said:
'Out you get, Elizabeth.'
'I'm not grumbling, Adam, but the pumpkin coach must have been much easier to negotiate.'
'But the Morgan doesn't disappear at midnight and that's a definite advantage, Elizabeth,' and he leant across and opened the door. 'Wait inside, I won't be long parking the car.' Liz hurried up the steps and as promised, Adam soon joined her, shaking the glistening raindrops from his hair and shoulders.
'I think we must be one of the last to arrive,' whispered Liz as they were ushered to the receiving line where John, as director of the theatre, was performing the introductions. Liz shook hands with the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress, and then passed on to meet an astonished Helen, who had evidently not been brought up to date.
'What on earth are you doing here, Lizzie?' she demanded in a quick undertone.
'Paul's ill,' explained Liz softly, and then found herself shaking hands with their guest of honour, Sir Oliver Harding. Adam, at her side, was greeted as an old friend and received warm congratulations and an enthusiastic hand shake from Sir Oliver.
A peremptory banging heralded the invitation to be seated. Adam consulted the table plan and took Liz to one of the small tables that were dotted around the room. To her surprise he seated himself by her side and rather embarrassed, she said quietly:
'Adam, I'm sure you ought to be on the top table.'
He smiled and raised his brows quizzically. 'Do you, Elizabeth?'
'You know you ought to be,' she insisted. 'Please don't feel you've got to look after me, will you? I—well, I don't want to be an encumbrance.'
'Oh, I promise you won't be that, Elizabeth,' he murmured. 'Now relax,' and he proceeded to introduce themselves to the other guests now seated at their table. As the meal progressed, Liz found herself doing just that, the delicious food, the sparkling, mellowing wine, as well as the stimulating conversation, ail being contributory factors. When the speeches began, she turned her chair slightly so that she could see the top table more clearly. She was very conscious of Adam's closeness, his hand laying next to hers, fingers round the stem of his glass. She sat in a happy daze, savouring every precious moment—the wine and his nearness equally responsible for the sensual warmth stealing through her.
'Of course, in the theatre the name of Adam Carlyon needs…'
Liz returned guiltily to Sir Oliver's speech, aware that heads were turned in their direction. Adam smiled, acknowledging the compliment with a slight raise of his glass, and Liz happily basked in his reflected glory. A few seconds later, she laughingly half-turned, sharing her enjoyment of a witticism, the laugh dying in her throat as she found his eyes upon her. Confused, she turned away, self-consciously lifting a hand to push back the fall of hair which now brushed her hot cheeks. Almost without surprise she felt her hand taken in his and Liz desperately tried to concentrate on the speech once more, but long sensitive fingers were absently caressing hers, sending rivulets of involuntary tremors through her. When she could not bear it any more, she removed her hand as carelessly as she could to raise glass to lips, not knowing which was the headier quantity—the wine or Adam Carlyon himself!
'This is where duty, Elizabeth, compels us to part,' said Adam when the toasts and speeches had finished. Directing Liz through to the ballroom where huge chandeliers blazed in splendour and music was softly playing, she found herself led firmly over to Sir Oliver and a few moments later was dancing with the well-known actor and talking as if she had known him all her life. And her illustrious partners did not stop there; the Lord Mayor was deeply interested in her job, so she found her dance with him easier than she had at first feared. Throughout, Liz received praise and congratulations for taking over in the emergency, which was very complimentary, but as the evening progressed, she did wish that perhaps she could have had one dance with Adam—just one —and would have exchanged all the verbal bouquets for that chance. Of course, she admitted wistfully, she was lucky to have had his company during the meal, and after all, she reasoned, it's not as if I'm a wallflower, I haven't sat one dance out yet. But continually catching glimpses of his tall, immaculate figure through the throng of dancers did not help, even though all his partners seemed to be duty ones.
Liz had just danced a very sedate old-time medley with one of the theatre trustees, an elderly man with military bearing, when she found herself next to Adam Carlyon, who shook hands with her partner.
'I see you've met Elizabeth, General. She stage-directed the play tonight for us, stepped in at the last minute owing to illness.'
'We have met before, actually,' Liz broke in, smiling. 'I believe you know my father, Laurence Browning.'
'Ah, yes, headmaster over Stretton way. Yes, of course, my dear, plays a good hand of bridge. Mm… unusual job for a pretty girl like you. Ought to be married and bringing up a family, eh, Carlyon? Can't understand the youngsters of today. Gadding about in all sorts of unlikely places.'
'I believe Mrs Carter is trying to catch your attention, General. May I get you both some coffee before you go? They're bringing some round shortly.'
'No, thank you, my boy, never touch the stuff. Good show tonight. Proud to be connected.' The General stared piercingly at Liz. 'Well, must be off. Nice to have met you again. Remember me to your father.' He nodded to Adam. '
'Night, Carlyon, see you at the meeting,' and off he stomped.
They looked at each other. 'You took that very calmly, Elizabeth,' Adam said teasingly.
She laughed. 'It wouldn't have been worth it. I know the General's sort! Anyway, I've been brought up to respect my elders and betters.'
'Really? You could have fooled me.' Adam answered dryly. 'Don't look now, but someone is making their way very rapidly towards us and because we don't want to be bored to death for the next hour we shall make our getaway. Anyway, I think we've both done our fair share of duty, and this one is definitely mine,' and Liz found herself in Adam Carlyon's arms and on to the dance floor before she could protest, and why should she? Did Cinderella protest at being in Prince Charming's arms? A Prince Charming so attuned to the dreamy waltz now being played?
The rest of the evening indeed took on a fairytale existence. At one point, as Liz realised the crowd was thinning, she looked up and said hesitantly:
'Adam, if it's not convenient for you to give me a lift home…'
'Don't be silly,' was all the reply she received, which quite contented her to leave it at that.
It was late, very late, when the Morgan crept slowly into The Laurels' drive. As the low, throbbing vibration of the engine stopped, Liz, eyes closed, head resting on Adam's shoulder, gave a sigh of pure contentment. A hand gently lifted the hair from her cheek and his voice came softly through the darkness.
'Elizabeth, we're home.'
The words hit her with a jolt. What, Liz thought with sudden clarity of vision, would it be like to have Adam Carlyon say those words in truth? She murmured sleepily: 'I'm quite happy where I am,' and settled herself into a more comfortable position.
'Maybe, but it won't do, my dear. Where's your key?'
Liz sighed heavily and reluctantly sat up, searching unsuccessfully in her evening bag. Feeling pleased with herself, she lay back, saying complacently: 'I can't find it, Adam.'
Laughing softly, he took the bag, switching on the dash light.
'Is this it?'
Liz peered at the offending key and nodded. 'How clever of you,' she said, and laid her head back on to his shoulder. 'Mm, this is nice.'
'Yes, it is, very nice, but success and champagne are both heady stuff,' he answered firmly.
Liz moved fractionally and glanced up at him. If he wanted to think she was under the influence of either or both, that was up to him, but at this particular moment she knew just what she was doing. He held her look for an instant and then the comforting arm was gently removed and she heard the crunch of gravel as he went to the front door, and then he returned and opened her car door.
'Can you manage?' he asked softly.
'Look, Adam, I'm perfectly all right. Anyone would have trouble getting out of this,' she grumbled mildly. He helped bar up and walked with his arm round her to the step.
'Will you manage if I point you in the right direction?' Liz felt his shoulders begin to shake in silent laughter.
'I'll be fine, Adam, just fine,' and indeed she was very comfortable. The step had brought her almost on a level with Adam and turning in his arms she slowly raised her own, placing them round his neck. His thick dark hair felt just as she had imagined.
Adam narrowed his eyes in the moonlight. 'Behave, Elizabeth,' he warned softly. Liz smiled tremulously and lightly ran her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands went quickly to her own hair, taking a handful and holding her head in a steady grip. Dark eyes searched her face.
'Adam?' asked Liz dreamily. 'May Cinderella thank Prince Charming for a wonderful, wonderful evening?' There was a pause and then:
'My dear, the villain of the piece is more usually my style… but I must admit the role of the Prince has become… decidedly appealing,' and holding her gaze he slowly released her hair. Liz raised herself and gently touched his lips with hers. Greatly daring, following the strong curve of his face with trembling lips, she sought hollow of cheek, cleft of chin, and with a whispered, 'Thank you, Adam,' touched soft, tremulous lips to his once more, lingering, savouring the moment.
Adam Carlyon sighed heavily and then with an almost resigned groan of her name, it was he who was seeking response, demanding compliance, as her face was covered in kisses, kisses as soft as butterfly wings; on cheeks, eyelids and brow and back to soft, eager lips, possessed again with urgent submission.
Liz was drowning in a sea of emotions that gloriously and wonderfully engulfed her, wave upon wave of sweet delight, and then so abruptly was she released that she would have fallen had not strong hands gripped her. They stood, bodies shuddering for breath, staring at each other.
Adam smiled grimly. 'Run along, Cinders… sweet dreams,' and Liz was pushed firmly into the house and with a quiet click of the door, Prince Charming was gone and Liz was left with the dreams, the sweet, sweet dreams. No one could take them away.
Sweet dreams have a habit of turning to sour reality, and the next day proved no exception. Liz awoke definitely in the land of the mortals. Her thoughts were in a tumult. One moment she was blissfully reliving each smile, each gesture, each look, hearing every nuance of his voice, and then the realisation of how she had practically thrown herself at him came to her, and shame and remorse would take over. She must have been bewitched! What must he be thinking after all she had said in the past… and all he had said!
Liz sat up and threw back the covers. Holding her head in her hands she staggered out and into the living room. Judy was sitting at the table, calmly drinking a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper. She impassively poured another cup of coffee and handed it to Liz, saying:
'It's hot, strong and sweet.'
Liz sat gingerly down and gave a weak grin. 'What are you doing up?'
'My dear Lizzie, I couldn't pop off to bed without finding out all about last night, now could I?' she smiled. 'By the look of you, you had a gay time.'
'You could say that,' Liz cautiously agreed, and after two more cups of life-saving coffee managed to bring her friend up to dates—or almost. 'It's all very well,' she added gloomily, 'telling yourself to hang the consequences, but I shan't dare look him in the face.'
'Don't be daft,' Judy scoffed. 'You don't imagine this is the first time something like this's happened to a man like Adam Carlyon?'
'But that's the whole point,' wailed Liz, running a hand distractedly through her hair. 'I've said in no uncertain terms what I think about women throwing themselves at him!'
'Well, now you know it's not the poor man's fault. Look here, Liz, let's keep things in proportion. Okay, so you were gay and abandoned, but you didn't have him back in the fiat. You could have done, I wasn't here.'
Liz lifted a troubled face to her and swallowed hard.
'He knew you were working, I'd mentioned it earlier.' She hesitated and shrugged helplessly. 'If he hadn't put a stop to things I don't even know that I wouldn't have asked him in.'
'Well, you didn't. Now does that make you glad or sorry?' demanded Judy, trying to keep a straight face.
'It's all very well for you to laugh, Judy, but I don't know, and that's what shakes me so!' and Liz glared at her across the table.
'In that case,' said Judy reasonably, 'Carlyon did you a favour leaving when he did,' adding slyly, 'He's not such a villain as you thought.'
'Good lord!' said Liz with a short laugh, 'Don't you get things out of proportion. He's just not interested in me as a person, he thinks of me as a child. Anyone would think, the way he talks, that there's twenty years' difference between us instead of twelve!'
'There's the phone,' said Judy. 'It's bound to be for you as I'm supposed to be in bed.' She yawned. 'See you tonight, unless you're staying at the theatre?'
Liz paused in flight. 'We're starting rehearsals on the next play today, so I'll probably stay for tea there,' and then she ran to answer the telephone.
'Lizzie?'
It was Helen. Summoning up a bright, cheerful voice which stretched her to the full, Liz said:
'Hello, Helen. How are you all this morning? Especially my one and only beautiful niece?'
'She's at this moment sitting at my feet trying to eat my shoelaces—but I'll not be sidetracked into a discussion about Emma.' Liz sighed. That showed how determined Helen was. 'How did you get on last night?' her sister continued with ludicrous casualness.
'Fine… did you?'
'Yes. Yes, of course I did… well?'
'Well, what?'
'Oh, Lizzie, stop being so obtuse! How did you get on with Adam?' Being Helen, she did not wait for a reply. 'You should have seen the Miller's face when she saw you sitting with him for the meal! Luckily that gorgeous architect, what's his name? was next to her or else I quite feared for your life!'
'I didn't really notice her,' said Liz truthfully.
Helen said dryly: 'Yes, I know, Lizzie darling. I don't think you really noticed anyone.' She hesitated and then ploughed on. 'Lizzie dear, about Adam Carlyon,' her voice softened, 'I don't want you to get hurt.'
'How do you mean?' asked Liz cautiously.
'He's not for you, Lizzie love.'
'Hele
n! Have you changed your mind?' Liz asked, adding sarcastically: 'Oh dear, all your nice, well laid plans.'
'I know. You've every right to be cross and I'm duly penitent. You see, something John said this morning about Louise and Adam has worried me.' There was a pause. 'You know how John hates gossip, but he did imply that they were very close.'
'How close, Helen?' managed Liz lightly.
'Look, be serious, Liz.'
Serious? Half of her was so serious she wanted to bawl her eyes out, the other half was so mad she wanted to kick herself, hard. Not that she had believed the fairy tale to be anything other than a brief, isolated moment, but she would have liked to have had the sweet, sweet dreams a little longer —it seemed they could be taken away, after all.
'Helen, forget about last night—I have,' lied Liz.
'I suppose he could have been so attentive out of a sense of duty.' Helen sounded dubious but willing to be convinced. 'Although,' she added gloomily, 'he looked to me rather more than a man who was only doing his duty.'
'Thank you very much! replied Liz with asperity. 'You're always telling me that I don't think enough of myself—if he looked as though he was enjoying himself as well as doing his duty—bully for me! Anyway, no doubt Adam Carlyon would have liked to have spent the entire evening with Louise, but she'd been lumbered with that sandy-haired man with glasses and Adam for most of the time had his own duty dances. He only danced with me at the end and then he took me home—as you've said—out of duty.'
'All right, calm down. But, Lizzie, try and keep out of his way.'
'That's going to be rather difficult, isn't it? Working for him and being co-godparent? Or had you forgotten those two small items?' Sarcasm seemed to be Liz's strong point that morning.
'No, I haven't forgotten,' Helen replied crossly, 'but he's not here for much longer and you won't see him very often after the season, I don't suppose.'
Dear Villain Page 11