'Slow down,' Liza puffed from behind. 'My back has stiffened up again.'
Merlyn relented, matching her strides to Liza's painfully slow ones. She felt charged with energy, needed to be doing something, and at almost eleven o'clock at night there wasn't too much to do.
'I know, let's go dancing!' Merlyn suddenly realised the discotheque would still be going.
'In my condition?' Liza groaned, hobbling along at best.
'Hm.' Her friend's enthusiasm wavered. 'I just don't feel like going to bed yet.'
'Then how about a quiet game of cards in one of the lounges?' Liza suggested hopefully. 'It's about all I'm fit for tonight.'
'I'm being selfish,' Merlyn realised heavily. 'And stupid. We both have to be up early tomorrow.'
'Don't remind me!' Liza grimaced.
Merlyn gave a tender smile. 'The best thing for you is a good night's sleep.'
'I'm not even sure that will do any good; they'll probably have to tie me on to the horse's back.'
While she didn't exactly look equestrian class Liza did very well the next day, Christopher declaring himself satisfied with what he had after only the third take.
Merlyn was pleased for Liza, but it meant they were now ready to film the scene she had so been dreading. The mere mention of the word gazebo had become a nightmare in her mind, and once she left here she never wanted to see one again.
The planking seemed as good as new when she tried her footing on it, and the first part of the scene went perfectly the first time. It was only as Mark took her in his arms that she froze up, conscious of exactly who he was.
'For God's sake,' Christopher burst out impatiently. 'Merlyn, this is the man you love. Mark,' he added hardly, 'you aren't about to throw her to the floor and rape her. This is the woman you love and you need to be as close to her as you possibly can.'
Merlyn thought Christopher's first description of Mark's acting more apt as they went through the scene time and time again. Mark just didn't have it in him to even act gentle with her.
'Like this!' Christopher finally lost his temper completely, taking over Mark's part, standing so close to Merlyn that their bodies almost touched, but not quite, his big gentle hands cupping either side of her face as his eyes gazed into hers with a love that revered and adored. 'I love you, Suzie. God, how I love you…' He groaned the words Mark should have said in the role of Brandon before his mouth lowered to hers.
Merlyn's arms slowly crept about his neck as she became lost to that kiss, knowing they were both acting parts even though it felt so real.
Christopher raised his head at the sound of the spontaneous applause from the technicians he had deemed necessary for the scene, turning to scowl at all of them until they were silent again, his baleful glare settling on Mark. 'That's how you make love to a woman,' he told him scathingly as he put Merlyn briskly away from him.
Mark shrugged, strolling forward to take over from Christopher. 'Maybe you've had more practice at it with Merlyn than I have,' he said carelessly.
Blue eyes narrowed, the air suddenly still, even the wind that had been whipping about them all afternoon ceasing for those few seconds. 'What's that supposed to mean?' The very quietness of Christopher's voice was menacing.
'I meant more recent practice, of course.' Mark wasn't in the least daunted by the other man's anger.
'Explain,' Christopher demanded.
'Can't we just get on with the scene?' Merlyn put in awkwardly, the stunned surprise she had felt at Christopher's intensity of passion quickly replaced by apprehension at Mark's challenging attitude. 'We—'
'Explain,' Christopher barked at Mark a second time, his eyes as cold as ice.
Mark shrugged again. 'I told you the other day that Merlyn and I were becoming reacquainted.'
'Yes, but—Merlyn, in your dressing-room,' Christopher snapped, suddenly becoming aware that they still had an avid audience. 'Now,' he ordered through gritted teeth.
Her 'dressing-room' was one of several caravans they had parked where they were convenient to their location, but not too intrusive on the other guests.
Merlyn turned fatalistically to face Christopher as he closed the door forcefully behind him.
'When I asked you about Hillier—'
'I told you we didn't like each other but we could live with it,' she cut in tautly.
His eyes flashed. 'What's going on out there is "living with it"?'
Her face became flushed. 'Don't blame me for that, Christopher, I'm doing my part—'
'You act as if he's about to abuse you, not make love to you!'
'Maybe because that's the way he makes me feel—' She broke off abruptly, breathing heavily as she realised what she had said, a speculative gleam in Christopher's eyes now. 'Mark Hillier just doesn't appeal to me—even when he is pretending to be someone else. Now can we just leave it at that?' It was a futile hope at best; Christopher never 'just left' anything!
'He is that man from your past,' he realised impatiently. 'And you told me he tried to use you to—'
'Christopher, please!' said Merlyn tensely, her hands twisting together in front of her.
He gave an angry sigh, moving about in the small confines with his customary restlessness. 'Great! This is just great,' he ground out forcefully. 'I wish to God I'd known that before I took him on.'
'So do I,' Merlyn's reply was weary. 'But it's done now,' she added shakily.
'Do you want me to try and break his contract—'
'God, no!' she refused with a gasp. Mark would never forgive her if he lost another starring role because of her.
'Okay, but if he lays one finger on you—'
'He already has, Christopher, you saw him do it,' Merlyn sighed. 'I think today is probably a repercussion of that.'
He gave a groan. 'As if I don't already have enough problems on this film with the author of the book constantly breathing down my neck, and you having an affair with Suzie Forrester's husband—'
'I thought you said that was helping you,' she reminded him tightly.
'It's a double-edged sword,' Christopher scowled. 'If you don't keep him happy it could just make him all the more difficult to deal with afterwards. Oh, what the hell.' He threw up his hands in disgust. 'I'll send Irene in to retouch your make-up while we all take a break. But in ten minutes I want you back out there and acting like Mark Hillier is the man you love and don't ever want to leave!' he warned.
She didn't need to ask him to make that clear to Mark too, could tell by the light of battle in his eyes as he left her that he intended making his feelings even more clearly known to the man, that he was as angry about the actor's open defiance earlier as he was about the taut situation between Mark and Merlyn. She could almost pity Mark during the next few minutes. Almost…
Whatever Christopher had said to him—and by the very fact that Christopher had never been all that particular about making his displeasure known in public she knew someone was bound to relate the chastisement word for word to her some time before the end of the day—Mark, as Brandon Carmichael, couldn't have been more in love with her.
He was so gentle as he lay her back against the sofa, so reverent as he slipped the clothes from her body, his mouth so erotically sensual against her own, that he quickly overcame Merlyn's awkwardness with the situation, and as she closed her eyes she could even believe it was Rand making love to her.
The tension left her body completely as her fingers laced in the vibrant dark hair at his nape, his skin smooth and muscled beneath her searching lips. She forgot everything, the cameras, the technicians, Christopher, as she became lost to the wonder of Rand making love to her.
She was on fire as that dark head moved down her body, gasping as his mouth caressed the peak of her breast, her eyes closed as she drowned in Rand's touch.
'Love me,' she groaned. 'Oh God, love me,' she encouraged achingly.
'Merlyn…?'
She blinked open dazed blue eyes, staring up into Mark's puzzled face, not Rand
's…
'Damn it, Hillier,' Christopher exploded. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
Mark raised his head to glare across the room at the other man before easily levering himself to his feet. 'That wasn't in the script,' he complained. 'What was I supposed to say to that? She—'
'You could have improvised, damn it,' Christopher shouted his impatience. 'Couldn't you see she was enjoying it?'
Merlyn gave a pained groan as she bent her knees up into her body in shame, turning away from all the curiously speculative faces. There weren't really that many people present, Christopher had kept them down to a minimum as Liza had said he was going to, but it seemed as if dozens of pairs of eyes were staring at her. Had she been enjoying it? She had tried to pretend it was Rand making love to her, but it seemed she had succeeded more than she had dared hope—
'Here.' A harsh voice rasped before something heavy fell about her body.
Merlyn recognised that voice even as she smelt the maleness of Rand on the navy blue jacket he had dropped over her nakedness. She raised startled eyes to look at the man who stared back at her as if she were a stranger to him.
She swallowed hard. 'How long—'
'Long enough,' he bit out with disgust, his eyes coldly silver.
It had been him she responded to, him she had wanted to love her. But how could she make him understand she had only been able to bear the embarrassment of today by pretending it was him who made love to her!
'Carmichael,' Christopher greeted lightly as he interrupted them. 'I didn't realise you were here.'
'Obviously.' That silver gaze raked over him with open contempt.
'Merlyn is doing really well, isn't she?' Christopher enthused, not at all daunted by the other man's coldness. 'And after the start we had this afternoon it's a relief, I can tell you—'
'Don't tell me,' Rand cut in harshly. 'I have no interest whatsoever in hearing about any of your problems. Suzie never did a nude scene in the whole of her career, and I don't intend letting her make one now—even posthumously!'
'But, Carmichael—'
Hooded eyes silenced him. 'You heard me, Drake,' he ordered harshly. 'No nude scene.'
'Rand—'
Fury glittered in his gaze as he looked at Merlyn before turning and walking off.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'Hell,' Christopher groaned in frustration. 'Okay, everyone, we may as well call it a night.'
Mark was buttoning his shirt as he joined them. 'Can he do that?' he frowned. 'Can he just cut a scene like that?'
'Yes,' Christopher spat out. 'Anything he doesn't like goes.'
Merlyn swallowed hard, still huddled beneath the protective cloak of Rand's jacket. 'You mean I don't have to—have to go through this again?' Her teeth were chattering, but with reaction, not the cold.
The only way she had got through that scene even once was by pretending Mark was Rand, her mortification when she realised how well she had succeeded in doing that such that she wanted to crawl away into a corner and die. But Rand's presence meant she had to face exactly what she had done. He had stood and watched as she made love with another man!
'Hey,' Mark taunted. 'Don't sound so eager to scrap it. As Christopher said, you were enjoying it well enough a few minutes ago!'
'Shut up, Hillier,' Christopher told him caustically as Merlyn gasped her humiliation. 'Can't you tell when a woman is responding to another man and not you?' He sat down on the sofa to take Merlyn soothingly into his arms.
Mark's handsome face flushed angrily at the rebuke. 'I was the one lying there with her—'
'But you weren't the one in her mind,' Christopher declared coldly. 'And women make love with their minds as much as their bodies. It's all right, Merlyn,' he comforted as she still trembled, holding her gently against him. 'It's all over.'
'You mean she was pretending I was Carmichael all the time?' Mark was furious at being told he had been nothing but a stand-in lover.
'Well it certainly wasn't me,' Christopher scorned. 'Now could you get your mind out of your trousers long enough to go to my caravan and get Merlyn a glass of brandy; you'll find a bottle in there somewhere.'
'I'm no one's servant—'
'Get the brandy, Hillier,' Christopher told him through clenched teeth. 'And stop being such a stupid bastard.'
Mark looked malevolent before he turned and strode out of the gazebo.
'You've just made yourself a vindictive enemy,' Merlyn murmured faintly, her eyes closed as she lay weakly against Christopher, willing everyone else gone before she had to stand up and put her clothes back on.
'He's been spoiling for a fight ever since he got here,' Christopher dismissed carelessly. 'Now he's got himself an opponent of his own weight! It's you I'm concerned about, Merlyn.' The worry could be heard in his voice. 'I know you said you didn't want to do this scene but I had no idea it was this bad.' He rubbed the chill of her hands in his much larger ones.
'I really won't have to go through it again?' She looked up at him beseechingly.
He shook his head. 'What Carmichael doesn't like is vetoed.' He looked grim. 'I don't like someone else having this much power over my film, but we may as well not bother to make it at all if Carmichael should decide after it's made to speak out against the authenticity of any part of it. The public loved Suzie too much to accept anything less than the truth about her.'
Merlyn shivered in reaction again. 'I wish you had discussed it with him before I—before I had to go through this.'
Christopher grimaced. 'I was hoping he would see it in the context of the whole film; I didn't realise he was going to be creeping around my closed film set!' he added resentfully.
Merlyn wondered what he had been doing there too. Last night he had given the impression that he didn't care if he never saw her again, let alone the way he had seen her today.
'Here.' A very disgruntled Mark pushed the bottle of brandy in front of them.
'Glass?' Christopher queried.
'I brought two.' He thrust the tumblers at them too. 'I thought you might both need a drink!'
'What did you ever see in him?' Christopher bit out as he poured the brandy for Merlyn and himself, Mark having left after giving a triumphant smile at the baleful glare he received from the other man.
'At the time, things I didn't have—maturity and success,' she said dryly.
He raised dark blond brows. 'My, what a bad judge of character you were!'
There was no answering smile for him in her shadowed eyes. 'I don't seem to have got any better with age!' She took a large swallow of the brandy, choking a little, but at last able to feel some warmth returning to her body.
'Carmichael,' Christopher sighed, sipping his own drink. 'Come on,' he decided briskly. 'Let's get you into the warm and then into some clothes.'
'Has everyone gone?' She had deliberately kept her face averted from the doorway.
'No, they haven't,' Christopher told her decisively. 'But you have to work with them all again tomorrow whether you like it or not, so you might as well face them all now.' He put out a hand to pull her to her feet.
Merlyn shook her head, rigid with nervousness. 'I can't—'
'You can,' he insisted. 'And you will. My God, woman,' he groaned in exasperation as she still refused to move. 'Do you think you're the first actress, the first woman, to ever pretend it's someone else making love to her just to get through it? Believe me, when your co-star has been eating Indian food the night before, sometimes it's the only way to get through it!'
Her mouth curved in the ghost of a smile. 'Are you comparing Mark to a strong curry?'
'I wouldn't compare him to anything,' Christopher said disgustedly. 'The man's an idiot. He had to be to let you go the way he did.'
Merlyn gave him a sharp look. 'He told you we were once going to be married…?'
'Boasted about it, is a more apt description,' Christopher replied. 'Until I pointed out that at least you had come to your senses before you made that mi
stake!'
Her mouth quirked. 'I won't ask how he reacted to that remark!'
'I shouldn't,' he grimaced. 'Even one of the cameramen blushed,' he answered dryly.
She didn't know how she did it but somehow she allowed Christopher to pull her to her feet, wrap the jacket that reached mid-thigh on her more firmly about her, before walking her over to the caravan she was using to change and makeup. The clothes she had been wearing earlier were neatly folded and lying on the chair just inside the door. The colour drained from her face again as she realised someone must have picked them up from the floor and brought them over here.
'This is all my fault.' Christopher frowned as he watched her anxiously.
'No.' She shook her head. 'It's mine,' she said dully.
'Get dressed and we'll have dinner together,' he instructed harshly.
She swallowed hard, shaking her head. 'I couldn't face anyone tonight.'
'Yes, you could,' he told her firmly. 'The only ones with egg on their faces are Mark and me. I'm thick-skinned enough to take it, and Mark's had plenty of years to get used to the feeling!'
She shook her head again. 'I'd rather have a soak in the bath.' To wash away Mark's touch and the degradation she still felt. 'And then order dinner in my room.' Which she doubted she would be able to eat.
'Hiding?' he enquired.
'Renewing my defences,' she corrected in a subdued voice. 'Did you ever meet Rand when he was married to Suzie?' she asked curiously.
'Once or twice, I think, at parties,' he shrugged with a frown.
'Was he different then?'
'He may have smiled a little more, but I believe he was just as arrogant. Why?' Christopher's eyes were narrowed.
She shrugged. 'I think I would have liked to have known him then.'
'It wouldn't have done you any good; he was married, remember?'
It might even have been worth the pain of knowing he was completely inaccessible to her just to have seen him happy with someone. After today he was just as elusive to her as if he were still married, and he despised her into the bargain.
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