A blush highlighted her cheeks. 'We wouldn't be alone—'
'Forget it,' he cut in harshly. 'I was right the first time, it would give these gossips too much to talk about. And they never could understand why one of the Forresters married one of the nouveau riche in the first place!' His voice held contempt for their snobbery.
Merlyn frowned. 'I'm sure you're wrong; James didn't have any wealth of his own when he married Anne, and he's accepted by all her friends.'
'Because he's one of the Bentons, my dear,' Rand mimicked a snobbishly aristocratic accent. 'No money but plenty of class,' he added bitterly.
She shook her head. 'I'm sure you're wrong about the way they regard you.'
'Maybe you're right,' he shrugged. 'Since Suzie's death none of them has spoken to me enough for me to find out!' He gave a harsh laugh.
Merlyn frowned her puzzlement. 'Do you really care what these people think of you?' He gave the impression that he needed no one.
'For myself?' he grated, shaking his head. 'No, I don't care,' he scorned. 'But for Suzie? Hell, yes, I mind!'
'You haven't given them a chance, Rand,' she reasoned. 'James told me he hasn't seen much of you lately, and I gather the two of you used to be good friends.' The latter was a guess, but from the warm way James spoke of the other man she thought it was a correct one.
'The four of us used to be good friends,' he corrected harshly.
'Oh, Rand.' She shook her head impatiently at his unyielding attitude.
His expression darkened. 'I really do prefer you with red hair, you know.'
She blinked at the sudden change of subject, guessing by the way his gaze was fixed on her hair that her movement had drawn attention to it. 'So do I,' she sighed. 'But Christopher insisted.'
Rand's narrow-eyed gaze turned to the other man as he continued to be the centre of attention across the room. 'Suzie told me when she worked with him that he's a brilliant director,' he bit out abruptly.
'He is,' Merlyn nodded.
Icy grey eyes turned back to her. 'Have the two of you been lovers long?' he rasped.
She caught her breath. 'I told you—'
'And Anne told me a different story,' he scorned. 'All about his concern for you when you became ill last time you were here.'
Merlyn became suddenly still, looking at him warily. 'You know I had the flu when I was here before?' She watched him closely, still uncertain if that man who had made love to her had been part of her fever or if he had really existed.
Rand met her gaze steadily. 'Anne told me all about it.'
'When?'
'When?' he repeated softly, his brows raised in silent mockery.
'Yes.' The colour had returned to brighten her cheeks. 'Before or after I left?'
He shrugged. 'Is it important?'
'Yes! No! Probably not,' she decided heavily; it was unlikely she would ever know the truth about that night.
Rand watched her with narrowed eyes. 'You don't sound very sure.'
'Yes, I—' She broke off gratefully as Anne announced dinner was ready, suppressing the shiver of awareness that shot down her spine to hang suspended between her thighs in a warm acknowledgement of Rand as he put his hand in the middle of her back to escort her in to dinner.
She was deluding herself if she thought she would ever be able to deny this man, tonight or any other night he wanted her.
'If I had known before you left,' he remarked softly as he stood behind her to pull back her chair for her to sit down, 'I would have come over here to see for myself how you were. Wouldn't I?' he murmured throatily against her ear before straightening and moving farther up the table to take his seat several places up from her.
Merlyn stared at him with wide eyes, and he returned that gaze blandly before turning to converse with the woman sitting at his side, seeming engrossed in the breathless conversation of the beautiful woman.
'You seem to be much better at PR than I am.' Christopher drew her attention back to him as he sat next to her, his expression mocking as she turned to him with sudden awareness.
'And what is that supposed to mean?' she answered resentfully.
He raised darkly blond brows. 'What do you think it meant?' he derided.
'You tell me.' Her eyes flashed a warning of her anger should he imply one more time that she was involved with Rand.
He shrugged, holding up his hands defensively. 'Hey, I'm just glad you managed to avert a scene just now. I'm sure the Bentons are too.'
Her mouth tightened. 'Rand isn't drunk,' she denied coldly.
'No?' Christopher scorned. 'Almost a bottle of whisky in one evening is normal consumption for him, is it?'
Merlyn looked at him with narrowed eyes. 'You know, you aren't a very nice person.'
He grinned unabashedly. 'None of us bastards in life is. And I mean none of us, Merlyn,' he added in gentle warning.
Her head went back in challenge. 'Meaning?' Her question was abrupt.
He shrugged. 'Meaning it takes one to know one. Carmichael will hurt you, Merlyn,' he warned again.
'Rand and I don't even like each other,' she returned scornfully.
'With the sexual tension that exudes from the two of you I don't think it's necessary you actually like each other,' Christopher replied just as scornfully. 'It's just lucky no one took out a match when you walked into the room; we would all have gone up in flames!'
'Oh, eat your soup!' advised Merlyn crossly, trying to concentrate on her own steaming bowl of onion soup.
'Does one eat or drink soup, I've never been able to decide,' Christopher drawled, having scooped up a spoonful and now surveyed it with a jaundiced eye.
'One gets it into the mouth any way one can without spilling it down one's chin!' Merlyn valiantly began to eat—or drink—hers.
She studiously avoided looking towards the end of the table where Rand sat, although as there were only ten people seated at the meal, none of them was sitting too far apart around the oval.
The lovely blonde woman who had first engaged Rand in conversation seemed to have been invited as his dinner companion, whether by Anne to even the numbers up at her table or as Rand's personal guest, Merlyn didn't know. Whatever the arrangement, the woman stuck doggedly to his side as they all moved back into the lounge after the meal.
Merlyn felt a little lightheaded with the sherry she had drunk before dinner, the wine they had consumed with the meal, and then a glass of champagne that James had insisted everyone had to prematurely 'wet the baby's head'. But she wasn't too fuddle-headed not to notice when Rand and the beautiful blonde made an unobtrusive exit together.
She had told him to find some other woman to make love to, but she hadn't expected him to do it this quickly after her refusal.
'A fast worker, our Mr Carmichael,' Christopher drawled as he lounged on the sofa at Merlyn's side.
' "The pot calling the kettle…"?' she snapped, wishing she didn't mind so much that Rand had gone off with the other woman. But she did. She did!
He shrugged. 'Maybe she's an old family "friend",' he mocked.
'Rand hasn't touched a woman since—' She broke off, breathing heavily in her agitation.
'Yes?' Christopher queried interestedly.
Merlyn put a hand up to her temple. 'Could we leave now? It's been a long day, I have the start of a headache, and I also have this demon of a director who expects me to be in make-up at five a.m.'
'The way the weather has been against us lately we'll be lucky if we can start filming before five p.m.!' her 'demon of a director' complained grimly.
'They forecast rain again for tomorrow; do you really think it's the best day for the lake shot?'
As was normal when filming, the scenes weren't being shot in any sort of sequence, and Merlyn had been a little dismayed when she had looked at the schedule for tomorrow to see that they intended shooting the scene where Suzie had just learnt she was terminally ill. She had rowed out to the middle of the lake she had spent so much time on as a child
to try and come to terms with the diagnosis. It had been a relatively clear day today, but there had been a chill wind howling through the trees, and the thought of possibly having to spend hours out in the middle of the lake in that weather was not at all appealing.
'With the long-term weather forecast I've had in there aren't likely to be any "best days",' Christopher told her morosely. 'Besides, a nice overcast day will help set the mood!'
'If you're going to start being insensitive again I'm definitely leaving!' Merlyn stood up decisively. 'Just try and remember that the Bentons are your hosts here.'
The fresh air hit her like a slap in the face, but she instantly felt better, the effects of the alcohol wearing off almost instantly after a wave of dizziness. It was dark and cold, but the lake was illuminated by several strategically placed lights, and she walked over to its edge to stare out over the grey water where a beautiful woman of thirty-five had tried to come to terms with dying—and failed.
Suzie had decided as she sat out in the middle of this expanse of water that she wasn't going to die without a fight—and she hadn't.
Merlyn let out a small scream of surprise as she felt an arm go about her waist. 'Christopher, I told you—' she broke off, her vision accustomed to the darkness now, and the man standing at her side wasn't Christopher. 'Rand…?' she breathed huskily.
'Yes.' His eyes glowed cat-like in the dark.
'I thought you had gone home with what's-her-name.' She blinked up at him.
'I drove Deborah home when we discovered her car wouldn't start—and I left her there.'
'I don't think that was the idea,' Merlyn mocked breathlessly.
Rand gave a rueful shrug of his powerful shoulders. 'It wasn't a very subtle approach,' he conceded. 'But if she had tried it a month ago it might have worked. Even yesterday it might have worked,' he added huskily. 'But not since I've made love to you again and found that it was just as good as I imagined it was.'
'Rand, this is impossible—'
'I know,' he groaned achingly. 'I behaved like a madman this afternoon, coming to your room the way that I did.' He shook his head dazedly. 'I didn't intend for that to happen. I didn't want it to happen. But after it had—! I wanted you again and again, and the only way seemed to be to go on with what's between us,' he said grimly.
'And now?' Merlyn's expression was uncertain as she looked up at him in the darkness.
'I watched you tonight.' His words were husky. 'You're a very beautiful woman.'
'Thank you,' she accepted in a puzzled voice.
'Anne likes you.'
'I like her too,' she nodded, even more puzzled by the conversation.
'I realise that,' he replied tersely. 'The two of you are friends.'
'And you disapprove of that friendship.'
'It's nothing to do with me,' Rand continued. 'What I'm trying to say is that this afternoon my need for you outweighed my common sense.' He moved away from her abruptly. 'I will not go sneaking around Anne's hotel to sleep with a green-eyed witch called Merlyn!'
She swallowed hard, had been expecting him to say that he had realised he liked her too, although in retrospect perhaps that was expecting a little too much! Rand despised her and the need she made him feel, and she knew he hated her for that as much as anything else.
'Perhaps we should say good night now while this conversation is still within the realms of being polite?' she bit out. 'Because as I told you this afternoon, I don't want you either!'
He glanced towards the hotel. 'Drake waiting for you, is he?' he scorned.
'As far as I'm aware, Christopher is still at the party,' she dismissed contemptuously.
Rand's eyes narrowed. 'Why?'
'Because he wasn't ready to leave!' Merlyn told him with barely contained impatience. 'He's far from being the only attractive man in the crew!' she added tauntingly before walking off without so much as a backward glance.
She half expected Rand to come after her, only half relieved when he didn't, the other half disappointed. Tonight she wanted him as never before!
She had nothing to fear from him in going back to her room now, staring at her reflection in the mirror for a long time before turning away disgustedly. Inside she was still Merlyn Summers, outside she had no idea who she was.
She couldn't sleep, despite knowing of the early call she would have in the morning, shifting restlessly about in the bed, not wanting to think of Rand but unable to stop herself. Was he as haunted by sleeplessness as she was or had he gone back to see if Deborah's offer was still open?
She gave a choked sob, turning to bury her face in the pillow. She couldn't bear to even think of Rand with another woman.
Finally the tears stopped, and she lay back in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, exhausted by her emotions.
The noise outside her window brought her completely awake again.
'Rand?' she called instinctively, getting out of bed to pull back the curtains.
A dark figure stood outside the window, moving quickly away as Merlyn threw the curtains back completely.
She silently began to scream.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When she realised there was no sound coming from her throat she turned and ran, unlocking her door to speed into the corridor—straight into the solid hardness of a human body.
This time she began to scream in earnest.
'Merlyn!' Rand grasped her arms to gently shake her. 'Merlyn, what's wrong?' he demanded.
'Rand!' She clung to him thankfully. 'Oh, thank God it's you!' She fell weakly against his chest, her fingers curled into the thick wool of the navy blue jumper he wore.
'It's all right,' he soothed gently, stroking her hair as he held her against him. 'It's all right,' he reassured her as she continued to shake with fright.
She turned fearfully to look back into her bedroom. Moonlight shone in the window unhindered by any dark spectres outside her room. 'It's gone,' she shuddered with relief.
Rand frowned down at her. 'What has?'
She swallowed hard, dry sobs still catching in her throat. 'There was someone or—or something, outside my bedroom window,' she told him shakily, chewing on the knuckles of the hand that didn't still cling to him.
Rand's expression darkened ominously, and he set her firmly aside before moving stealthily into her room and over to the window, pushing back the nets before opening the window to look outside.
'Rand, no!' Merlyn moved towards him instinctively. 'He could still be out there!'
He was shaking his head as he reclosed the window. 'There's nothing out there now except maybe an owl or two.' He pulled the curtains back over the window before moving to switch on the small bedside lamp. 'Are you sure you didn't imagine it?' he prompted softly. 'You aren't used to the noises of the country, and—'
'The noise I heard was someone trying to open my window,' she cut in forcefully. 'And the dark shape I saw outside wasn't a giant bat either!' She knew he was only trying to comfort her, but she was too agitated to respond. Someone had been outside her room! Breaking in—or looking in?
'That safely rules out Dracula, then,' Rand muttered.
'Rand!' she gasped her hurt at his derision.
'Sorry.' He ran a hand through the thickness of his hair. 'It shook me up a little having you come flying out of your room screaming like a banshee! And you did say it could have been a something,' he reminded her.
She made an uncomfortable movement. 'I was upset when I said that,' she snapped.
'And you aren't upset now?' He raised dark brows.
'No.' And strangely she wasn't, the argument with Rand having calmed her more quickly than anything else could have done. 'Although I'm a little puzzled as to what you were doing outside my room at…' she glanced at the red-illuminated clock on her bedside table, 'one-thirty in the morning?'
'I changed my mind,' he told her harshly.
'About what?' Merlyn frowned, noticing for the first time that he had changed from the dinner suit into deni
ms and the navy blue jumper.
He gave a ragged sigh, his eyes narrowed. 'Sleeping with a green-eyed witch called Merlyn.'
Her breath caught in her throat. She only had his word for it that that was his reason for being here. He could have been the person outside her room; there was a door to the outside beside the next room. And yet what reason would he have for not admitting to being outside? She couldn't think straight any more, felt emotionally drained, and the warmth of his arms beckoned. 'Just for tonight?' she asked warily.
'I don't know,' he admitted truthfully. 'But I have to have you tonight. I can't sleep until I do.' His voice shook with the admission.
It was mindless, completely inexplicable—to either of them—this primitive force that compelled them to want each other against all the odds the way that they did. Maybe she was a witch after all and had fallen victim to one of her own spells. Rand certainly seemed to think it was beyond his power to resist her and all that she offered.
'I need you tonight too.' She held out her arms to him. 'I couldn't sleep either.'
He trembled slightly as he held her, his heated gaze moving down the length of her body. 'Where did you think you were going just now dressed like this?' He slipped the thin strap of her pale green nightgown from her shoulder, his lips moving moistly across the creamy flesh he exposed.
'I was looking for help.' She groaned low in her throat as he pulled the material down over one breast and drew her aching nipple into his mouth for the briefest of caresses.
'And instead you found me,' he rasped, cupping her bared breast while his lips closed moistly on the other nipple through the silky material of her nightgown.
Her head fell back as she shuddered her pleasure, not answering him as she became lost in the delight of his caresses.
Her bed had grown cold since she had left it, but as Rand stripped off his clothes and quickly joined her there they were both set alight in the flames of their passion, their caresses fevered, those caresses mixing pain with pleasure as they surrendered to their emotions.
Merlyn's nails raked from the muscle of his shoulders to the tautness of his buttocks as he thrust smoothly inside her, bringing them both to a tumultuous climax that left them a tangle of perspiration-damp bodies and raggedly uneven breathing.
Merlyn's Magic Page 11