Once More With Feeling

by Nora Roberts

  gripped his shoulders for balance, then stared at him when his mouth lifted.

  “What,” she began and let out a shaky breath, “was that for?”

  “For Mrs. Pengalley,” he answered easily. “She’s peeking out the music room window.”

  “Brandon, you’re terrible.” His mouth came down to hers again. Her halfhearted protest turned into total response. With a quiet sound of pleasure, Brand deepened the kiss and dragged her closer to him. Raven could feel the heat of the sun on her skin even as the sea breeze cooled it. The wind brought them the scent of honeysuckle and roses.

  “That,” he murmured as his mouth brushed over her cheeks, “was for me.”

  “Have any other friends?” Raven asked.

  Laughing, Brand gave her a quick hug and released her. “I suppose we’ve given her enough to cluck her tongue over today.”

  “So that’s what you want me for.” Raven tossed her head. “Shock value.”

  “Among other things.”

  They wandered to the sea wall, for some moments looking out in comfortable silence. Raven liked the cliffs with their harsh faces and sheer, dizzying drop. She liked the constant, boiling noise of the sea, the screaming of the gulls.

  The score was all but completed, with only a few minor loose ends and a bit of polishing to be done. Copies of completed numbers had been sent back to California. Raven knew they were drawing out a job that could be finished quickly. She had her own reasons for procrastinating, though she wasn’t wholly certain of Brand’s. She didn’t want to break the spell.

  Raven wasn’t sure precisely what Brand wanted from her because she hadn’t permitted him to tell her yet. There were things, she knew, that had to be settled between them—things that could be avoided for the time being while they both simply let themselves be consumed by love. But the time would come when they would have to deal with the everyday business of living.

  Would their work be a problem? That was one of the questions Raven refused to ask herself. Or if she asked it, she refused to answer. Commitments went with their profession, time-consuming commitments that made it difficult to establish any sort of a normal life. And there was so little privacy. Every detail of their relationship would be explored in the press. There would be pictures and stories, true and fabricated. The worst kind, Raven mused, were those with a bit of both. All of this, she realized, could be handled with hard work and determination if the love was strong enough. She had no doubt theirs was, but she had other doubts.

  Would she ever be able to rid herself of the nagging fear that he might leave her again? The memory of the hurt kept her from giving herself to Brand completely. And her feelings of responsibility to her mother created yet another barrier. This was something she had always refused to share with anyone. She couldn’t even bring herself to share it with the person she cared for most in the world. Years before, she had made a decision to control her own life, promising herself she would never depend too heavily on anything or anyone. Too often she had watched her mother relinquish control and lose.

  If she could have found a way, Raven would have prolonged the summer. But more and more, the knowledge that the idyll was nearly at an end intruded into her thoughts. The prelude to fantasy was over. She hoped the fantasy would become a reality.

  Brand watched Raven’s face as she leaned her elbows on the rough stone wall and looked out to sea. There was a faraway look in her eyes that bothered him. He wanted to reach her, but their time alone together was slipping by rapidly. A cloud slid across the sun for a moment, and the light shifted and dimmed. He heard Raven sigh.

  “What are you thinking?” he demanded, catching her flying hair in his hand.

  “That of all the places I’ve ever been, this is the best.” Raven tilted her head to smile up at him but didn’t alter her position against the wall. “Julie and I took a break in Monaco once, and I was sure it was the most beautiful spot on earth. Now I know it’s the second.”

  “I knew you’d love it if I could ever get you here,” Brand mused, still toying with the ends of her hair. “I had some bad moments thinking you’d refuse. I’m not at all sure I could have come up with an alternate plan.”

  “Plan?” Raven’s forehead puckered over the word. “I don’t know what you mean. What plan?”

  “To get you here, where we could be alone.”

  Raven straightened away from the wall but continued looking out to sea. “I thought we came here to write a score.”

  “Yes.” Brand watched the flight of a bird as it swooped down over the waves. “The timing of that was rather handy.”

  “Handy?” Raven felt the knot start in her stomach. The clouds shifted over the sun again.

  “I doubt you’d have agreed to work with me again if the project hadn’t been so tempting,” he said. Brand frowned up at a passing cloud. “You certainly wouldn’t have agreed to live with me.”

  “So you dangled the score in front of my nose like a meaty bone?”

  “Of course not. I wanted to work with you on the project the moment it was offered to me. It was all just a matter of timing, really.”

  “Timing and planning,” she said softly. “Like a chess game. Julie’s right; I’ve never been any good at strategy.” Raven turned away, but Brand caught her arm before she could retreat.

  “Raven?”

  “How could you?” She whirled back to face him. Her eyes were dark and hot, her cheeks flushed with fury. Brand narrowed his eyes and studied her.

  “How could I what?” he asked coolly, releasing her arm.

  “How could you use the score to trick me into coming here?” She dragged at her hair as the wind blew it into her face.

  “I’d have used anything to get you back,” Brand said. “And I didn’t trick you, Raven. I told you nothing but the truth.”

  “Part of the truth,” she continued.

  “Perhaps,” he agreed. “We’re both rather good at that, aren’t we?” He didn’t touch her, but the look he gave her became more direct. “Why are you angry? Because I love you or because I made you realize you love me?”

  “Nobody makes me do anything!” She balled her hands into fists as she whirled away. “Oh, I detest being maneuvered. I run my own life, make my own decisions.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve made any for you.”

  “No, you just led me gently along by the nose until I chose what was best for myself.” Raven turned back again, and now her voice was low and vibrant with anger. “Why couldn’t you have been honest with me?”

  “You wouldn’t have let me anywhere near you if I’d been completely honest. I had experience with you before, remember?”

  Raven’s eyes blazed. “Don’t tell me what I would’ve done, Brandon. You’re not inside my head.”

  “No, you’ve never let me in there.” He pulled out a cigarette, cupped his hands around a match and lit it. Before speaking, he took a long, contemplative drag. “We’ll say I wasn’t in the mood to be taking chances, then. Will that suit you?”

  His cool, careless tone fanned her fury. “You had no right!” she tossed at him. “You had no right to arrange my life this way. Who said I had to play by your rules, Brandon? When did you decide I was incapable of planning for myself?”

  “If you’d like to be treated as a rational adult, perhaps you should behave as one,” he suggested in a deceptively mild tone. “At the moment I’d say you’re being remarkably childish. I didn’t bring you here under false pretenses, Raven. There was a score to be written, and this was a quiet place to do it. It was also a place I felt you’d have the chance to get used to being with me again. I wanted you back.”

  “You felt. You wanted!” Raven tossed back her hair. “How incredibly selfish! What about my feelings? Do you think you can just pop in and out of my life at your convenience?”

  “As I remember, I was pushed put.”

  “You left me!” The tears came from nowhere and blinded her. “Nothing’s ever hurt me like that be
fore. Nothing!” Tears of hurt sprang to her eyes. “I’ll be damned if you’ll do it to me again. You went away without a word!”

  “You mightn’t have liked the words I wanted to say.” Brand tossed the stub of his cigarette over the wall. “You weren’t the only one who was hurt that night. How the hell else could I be rational unless I put some distance between us? I couldn’t have given you the time you seemed to need if I’d stayed anywhere near you.”

  “Time?” Raven repeated as thoughts trembled and raced through her mind. “You gave me time?”

  “You were a child when I left,” he said shortly. “I’d hoped you’d be a woman when I came back.”

  “You had hoped . . .” Her voice trailed off into an astonished whisper. “Are you telling me you stayed away, giving me a chance to—to grow up?”

  “I didn’t see I had any choice.” Brand dug his hands into his pockets as his brows came together.

  “Didn’t you?” She remembered her despair at his going, the emptiness of the years. “And of course, why should you have given me one? You simply took it upon yourself to decide for me.”

  “It wasn’t a matter of deciding.” He turned away from her, knowing he was losing his grip on his temper. “It was a matter of keeping sane. I simply couldn’t stay near you and not have you.”

  “So you stayed away for five years, then suddenly reappeared, using my music as an excuse to lure me into bed. You didn’t give a damn about the quality of Fantasy. You just used it—and the talent and sweat of the performers—for your own selfish ends.”

  “That,” he said in a deadly calm voice, “is beyond contempt.” Turning, he walked away. Within moments Raven heard the roar of an engine over the sound of the sea.

  She stood, watching the car speed down the lane. If she had meant to deal a savage blow, she had succeeded. The shock of her own words burned in her throat. She shut her eyes tightly.

  Even with her eyes closed, she could see clearly the look of fury on Brand’s face before he had walked away. Raven ran a shaking hand through her hair. Her head was throbbing with the aftereffects of temper. Slowly she opened her eyes and stared out at the choppy green sea.

  Everything we’ve had these past weeks was all part of some master plan, she thought. Even as she stood, the anger drained out of her, leaving only the weight of unhappiness.

  She resented the fact that Brand had secretly placed a hand on the reins of her life, resented that he had offered her the biggest opportunity in her career as a step in drawing her to him. And yet . . . Raven shook her head in frustration. Confused and miserable, she turned to walk back to the house.

  Mrs. Pengalley met her at the music room door. “There’s a call for you, miss, from California.” She had watched the argument from the window with a healthy curiosity. Now, however, the look in the gray eyes set her maternal instincts quivering. She repressed an urge to smooth down Raven’s hair. “I’ll make you some tea,” she said.

  Raven walked to the phone and lifted the receiver. “Yes, hello.”

  “Raven, it’s Julie.”

  “Julie.” Raven sank down in a chair. She blinked back fresh tears at the sound of the familiar voice. “Back from the isles of Greece?”

  “I’ve been back for a couple weeks, Raven.”

  Of course. She should have known that. “Yes, all right. What’s happened?”

  “Karter contacted me because he wasn’t able to reach you this morning. Some trouble on the line or something.”

  “Has she left again?” Raven’s voice was dull.

  “Apparently she left last night. She didn’t go very far.” Hearing the hesitation in Julie’s voice, Raven felt the usual tired acceptance sharpen into apprehension.

  “Julie?” Words dried up, and she waited.

  “There was an accident, Raven. You’d better come home.”

  Raven closed her eyes. “Is she dead?”

  “No, but it’s not good, Raven. I hate having to tell you over the phone this way. The housekeeper said Brand wasn’t there.”

  “No.” Raven opened her eyes and looked vaguely around the room. “No, Brandon isn’t here.” She managed to snap herself back. “How bad, Julie? Is she in the hospital?”

  Julie hesitated again, then spoke quietly. “She’s not going to make it, Raven. I’m sorry. Karter says hours at best.”

  “Oh, God.” Raven had lived with the fear all her life, yet it still came as a shock. She looked around the room again a little desperately, trying to orient herself.

  “I know there’s no good way to tell you this, Raven, but I wish I could find a better one.”

  “What?” She brought herself back again with an enormous effort. “No, I’m all right. I’ll leave right away.”

  “Shall I meet you and Brand at the airport?”

  The question drifted through Raven’s mind. “No. No, I’ll go straight to the hospital. Where is she?”

  “St. Catherine’s, intensive care.”

  “Tell Dr. Karter I’ll be there as soon as I can. Julie . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay with her.”

  “Of course I will. I’ll be here.”

  Raven hung up and sat staring at the silent phone.

  Mrs. Pengalley came back into the room carrying a cup of tea. She took one look at Raven’s white face and set it aside. Without speaking, she went to the liquor cabinet and took out the brandy. After pouring out two fingers, she pressed the snifter on Raven.

  “Here now, miss, you drink this.” The Cornish burr was brisk.

  Raven’s eyes shifted to her. “What?”

  “Drink up, there’s a girl.”

  She obeyed as Mrs. Pengalley lifted the glass to her lips. Instantly Raven sucked in her breath at the unexpected strength of the liquor. She took another sip, then let out a shaky sigh.

  “Thank you.” She lifted her eyes to Mrs. Pengalley again. “That’s better.”

  “Brandy has its uses,” the housekeeper said righteously.

  Raven rose, trying to put her thoughts in order. There were things to be done and no time to do them. “Mrs. Pengalley, I have to go back to America right away. Could you pack some things for me while I call the airport?”

  “Aye.” She studied Raven shrewdly. “He’s gone off to cool his heels, you know. They all do that. But he’ll be back soon enough.”

  Realizing Mrs. Pengalley spoke of Brand, Raven dragged a hand through her hair. “I’m not altogether certain of that. If Brandon’s not back by the time I have to go to the airport, would you ask Mr. Pengalley to drive me? I know it’s an inconvenience, but it’s terribly important.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Mrs. Pengalley sniffed. Young people, she thought, always flying off the handle. “I’ll pack your things, then.”

  “Thank you.” Raven glanced around the music room, then picked up the phone.

  An hour later she hesitated at the foot of the stairs. Everything seemed to have happened at once. She willed Brand to return, but there was no sign of his car in the driveway. Raven struggled over writing a note but could think of nothing to say on paper that could make up for the words she had thrown at him. And how could she say in a few brief lines that her mother was dying and she had to go to her?

  Yet there wasn’t time to wait until he returned. She knew she couldn’t risk it. Frantically she pulled a note pad from her purse. “Brandon,” she wrote quickly, “I had to go. I’m needed at home. Please, forgive me. I love you, Raven.”

  Dashing back into the music room, she propped the note against the sheet of staff paper on top of the pile on the piano. Then, hurrying from the room, she grabbed her suitcases and ran outside. Mr. Pengalley was waiting in his serviceable sedan to drive her to the airport.

  Chapter 14

  Five days passed before Raven began thinking clearly again. Karter had been right about there only being a matter of hours. Raven had had to deal not only with grief but also with an unreasonable guilt that she hadn’t been in time. The
demand of details saved her from giving in to the urge to sink into self-pity and self-rebuke. She wondered once, during those first crushing hours, if that was why people tied so many traditions and complications to death: to keep from falling into total despair.

  She was grateful that Karter handled the police himself in a way that ensured the details would be kept out of the papers.

  After the first busy days there was nothing left but to accept that the woman she had loved and despised was gone. There was no more she could do. The disease had beaten them, just as surely as if it had been a cancer. Gradually she began to accept her mother’s death as the result of a long, debilitating illness. She didn’t cry, knowing she had already mourned, knowing it was time to put away the unhappiness. She had never had control of her mother’s life; she needed the strength to maintain control of her own.