An Unexpected Song (10 page)

“I didn’t know what—the play’s so important to you.”

“So are you.”

She went still. “Am I?”

“Too damned important.” He drew up before the theater and leaned across to open the passenger door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

She nodded, her eyes shining radiantly as she jumped out of the car. He had said she was important to him. There was the faintest possibility he meant he loved her. “Tonight.”

She slammed the door and walked quickly into the theater.

“She knows,” Eric said as soon as Jason picked up the phone. “God, I’m sorry. I warned him. I thought for sure Jessup wouldn’t—”

“When?” Jason asked curtly. “When did Jessup tell her?”

“Last night.”

“Then she could be on her way now.”

“Not yet. I bribed the desk clerk at Claridge’s to call me when she checks out. You’ll have warning.”

“Thanks, Eric.”

“I got Bartlin for Iago.”

“What? Oh, that’s great.”

“What about Justine?”

“No, she can’t do it.”

“Rats.” Eric’s voice brightened. “But if you already know that, maybe Cynthia’s timing isn’t so bad for once. She won’t interfere with your negotiations.”

“No, she won’t do that.”

“Jason?” Eric hesitated. “What’s wrong. You sound … funny.”

“Do I? I wonder why?”

“Look, if you need more time, maybe I could stall her. I can go see her and—”

“No! Stay away from her.” Jason made an effort and steadied his voice. “It will be all right. I just have some details to wind up here. Let me know when she checks out of the hotel.”

“Okay.” Eric paused. “What will you do then? Come to London?”

“No, I’ll take a plane to New York, tie up a few details, and then go to Eaglesmount.”

“Back into your hermit’s cave?” Eric asked sourly. “Can we count on you to come out for the opening?”

“We’ll see. When you find a decent Desdemona, let me know and I’ll check her out.” But he knew there would never be a Desdemona like Daisy. “Look, I have to go. I have some things to do.”

“Right. I’ll be in touch.”

Jason hung up the phone and closed his eyes as wave after wave of despair and pain washed over him. Lord, he didn’t want it to end. Dammit, it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Why couldn’t he have had a few more weeks before the curtain fell? Daisy was going to need him and he wouldn’t be there.

The tigers have never come to me.

Well, the tigers were drawing closer to Daisy every moment, and he wouldn’t be around to protect her or to help heal the wounds.

Not if he was to save her from the most ferocious tiger of all.

He dropped down on the chair beside the desk
and tried to clear his mind of pain and anger. He couldn’t have what he wanted, but at least on this occasion he had a little time to try to help where he could, to ease the way for the people he had come to care about.

“So stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he muttered. “Get off your duff and get to it.”

He reached for the telephone on the desk. First, he would call the manager of the theater, and then go to the cottage and see Charlie.

He couldn’t keep the tigers from coming, but maybe he could add salve to ease some of the pain from the wounds they would inflict.

“Hi, Charlie! Got time to stop for a cup of coffee?” Jason strode into the cottage and moved toward the kitchenette. “I know, don’t tell me. Make it myself. You’re too busy.”

“Don’t you ever work?” Charlie looked up from his easel. “You don’t seemed worried about making that part-time job steady.”

“Actually, I got a telephone call when I got back to town tonight. I have to go back to New York for a while, so I dug up a replacement for a few weeks.”

“Bad news?”

“Depends on how you look at it.” Jason plugged the coffeemaker into the socket. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“There’s not much of anything you can’t handle, is there, Jason?”

“I have my problems like everybody else.” Jason strolled out of the kitchenette toward the easel. “What are you working on?”

“Daisy’s portrait. I should finish it tonight.”

“Are you going to show it to her?”

Charlie shook his head. “Not yet. I’m saving it.”

“For what?”

“I want her to know how I feel about her after—” Charlie stopped, was silent a moment, and then turned to look at Jason. “She told you, didn’t she?”

Jason shook his head. “I guessed it and she affirmed. She’d never break a promise to you.” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. You’ve practically become family.” Charlie’s gaze shifted back to the portrait. “You’ll take care of her?”

“I promise she’ll have everything she’s ever wanted.”

“That’s good.” Charlie moved his shoulders as if shrugging off a heavy burden. “I was worried about her before you came along. She’s too loving for her own good, but you’re tough enough to keep her from harm.”

“Yes, I’m tough enough.” Jason swallowed to ease the sudden tightness of his throat and looked hurriedly back at the painting. “It’s good, Charlie.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever done. It’s no masterpiece, though,” Charlie made a face. “I guess I wasn’t destined to be immortal.”

“Is that what you want?”

Charlie nodded. “I suppose it’s basic instinct to want to create something beautiful to live on after you.”

“But you’ve already done that.”

Charlie looked at him in surprise.

Jason nodded toward the painting. “Daisy.”

“I told you I didn’t—”

“Not the painting. I don’t have the knowledge
to tell whether the portrait is special. I was talking about Daisy herself. There’s no question Daisy is a very special creation.”

Charlie’s expression softened. “No question at all, but she’s not my creation. I’m only her stepfather. I didn’t give her that voice.”

“God gave her the voice,” Jason said quietly. “But you made sure it was trained. You guided her and formed her values. She
shines.
And you polished her and gave her that radiance.”

Charlie shook his head.

“Listen to me, it’s true.” Jason’s voice vibrated with sincerity. “You’ve created something much more enduring than a painting. Everyone Daisy comes in contact with feels a little better, warmer. Every time she sings, she gives gifts, and you’re the one who gave us that.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Isn’t that almost as good as being Rembrandt, if not better?”

“No.” Charlie’s eyes were twinkling. “But it comes pretty close. Being Svengali ain’t so bad.”

“Being Svengali is pretty damn good.” Jason turned and went back to the kitchenette. “Now, I’ll give you that cup of coffee and you can get back to work. You know, I’ve been thinking. I know a few people in New York art circles who might want to take a look at the portrait. We may be able to get you a shot at immortality after all. Will you let me borrow the picture for a few weeks and give it a try?”

“To put my mind at ease?”

Jason shook his head. “I’m no do-gooder. It just occurred to me that you weren’t looking at your accomplishments in the right light. You’re one of the most successful men I know.” He glanced
back over his shoulder. “And a damn fine human being.”

Charlie nodded his head in acknowledgment as he followed Jason to the breakfast bar. “I return the compliment. Daisy has excellent taste.”

Jason poured coffee into two mugs. “Daisy gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. She can’t tell the gold from the dross.”

“You think you’re dross?”

Jason handed the mug to Charlie. “With a few golden moments.”

Charlie gazed at him thoughtfully. “I believe you may be wrong.”

Jason shrugged. “Well, I’m right about Daisy and I’m right about you too, Charlie.” He lifted his mug in a mock toast. “To Daisy.”

Charlie lifted his own cup and a gentle smile lit his face. “To Daisy.”

Jason collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, his entire body shaking.

Daisy’s own breath was coming in gasps, and it took a few moments to steady it before she asked, “Is something wrong?”

She could feel Jason’s muscles harden against her. “Why do you ask that? Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He had been careful not to hurt her, but the tempo of their lovemaking had been wilder than ever before, almost brutal in intensity, and she had sensed great desperation in Jason’s possession. “No, but I—” She stopped as she felt Jason’s lips tugging at her earlobe and his unmistakable arousal pushing against her thigh.

“Again?” she whispered. “So soon?”

“Again. He parted her legs and moved over her.
With one stroke he filled her to the hilt. “And again.” He drew out and began plunging wildly. “And again.”

Jason was definitely acting very strangely tonight, Daisy thought uneasily. He had showered with her, helped her to dress, and now was leaning against the jamb of the doorway of the bathroom, watching her as she stood before the mirror combing her hair as if he couldn’t bear to have her out of his sight. She glanced at him with a worried frown. “Jason, are you sure that—”

“I love your hair,” he said thickly. “Lord, it’s beautiful.”

He loved her hair. He loved her body. She felt a jab of pain at the knowledge that he always spoke of the physical, never the total person. “I should really cut it. It tangles terribly.”

“No!” She looked at him in surprise, and he smiled with an effort and said less violently, “You must do as you think best, of course, but it would be a mistake.” He glanced away from her. “I’ll always remember how your hair looked spilling over that pillow.”

Her hand stopped in midair as a chill swept through her. “Remember?”

“I have to get back to New York.”

She quickly lowered her lashes to veil her eyes. “You do?”

He nodded jerkily, still not looking at her. “
Night Song.
”

“Will you be coming back?”

“It’s not likely.”

“Of course.” She put the comb down very carefully on the marble vanity. “I understand. There’s
really no reason you should stay here now that you know I can’t play Desdemona.”

“It’s not—” He broke off, and for an instant she thought she saw a flicker of torment on his face. She must have been mistaken, for the next moment his expression was impassive. “I have to leave Geneva.”

“How soon?”

“This morning. I have a flight at six
A.M.
I’ll throw my suitcases in the car and drive directly to the airport after I drop you off at the cottage.”

She mustn’t let him see the pain flowing through her. She should have expected this. He had been honest with her. He had told her his music was everything to him. “You don’t have to take me home. I can take a taxi.”

Jason’s lips tightened. “I’m taking you.”

“I think I’d rather you wouldn’t.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “I seem to be having a few problems maintaining control. I’m not really good at saying good-bye.”

“Daisy, I don’t want—” He broke off and then said hoarsely, “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

“Am I making the situation difficult for you?” Her lips stretched in a frozen smile. “I have no claim on you. You’ve never made me any promises.” She pushed past him, grabbed her jacket from the chair, and headed for the door leading to the hall. “Good-bye, Jason. Good luck with
Night Song.
”

“To hell with
Night Song.
” He reached her in three strides and whirled her to face him. “Dammit, I can’t
help
it.”

“You have your priorities.” Her voice was brittle, but at least it was no longer shaking. “I told you I didn’t blame you, but you know I’m not very
sophisticated. I can’t seem to handle this in the approved, civilized fashion.” She was struggling to get away from his touch. It was incredible that even through the pain engulfing her, she still wanted him to touch her, hold her. “Just let me go. I have to get home to Charlie.” She broke away and turned toward the door, her words tumbling out feverishly. “He’ll miss you. Why don’t you drop him a postcard from New York?”

“I’ve already said good-bye to Charlie.”

“Have you? That’s good.” She jerked open the door. “I really have to go.” She was half running down the corridor toward the elevator as she spoke. “Charlie …”

“Daisy!”

She paid no attention, and a moment later the elevator doors closed behind her and the elevator started to make its smooth descent to the lobby. She mustn’t cry. If she wept, her eyes would be red and puffy and Charlie would know. Charlie had enough to face without having to comfort her. After all, she had understood this would happen sometime. No strings, he had said. She was stupid to think Jason might learn to feel the same love for her that she felt for him.

Oh, Lord, it hurt!

But she mustn’t cry. Charlie mustn’t know.

She paused on the doorstep of the cottage and took a deep shaky breath, trying to form a game plan.

She wouldn’t be able to fool Charlie into believing she didn’t care that Jason had gone, but she could pretend all was well between them and Jason had gone away for only a short time. Then
she’d have an excuse for being upset but not heartbroken. Yes, that would be the best course.

She swallowed, pasted a bright smile on her face, and went into the cottage. The room was lit by the lamp on the table by the door, leaving only shadows beyond the pool of light. She had been so upset she hadn’t noticed that the house wasn’t flooded with the brilliant light Charlie required to work.

“Charlie? I guess Jason told you that—” She broke off, an awful feeling of déjà-vu sweeping over her.

Yes, that was it. It wasn’t real. This was just a memory of that other night, when she had made the terrible mistake.

But it was real.

Charlie wasn’t asleep in the armchair, he lay crumpled on the floor in front of the easel.

“Charlie?” she whimpered. “Oh, God, no.”

And the tigers come at night.…

Daisy hadn’t expected there to be so many people at the funeral. She hadn’t realized how many friends Charlie had in the colony. Artists were basically solitary folk, and there was little socializing among them. Yet here they were, sober, awkward, a little uneasy, to say a last farewell to Charlie. She blinked the tears from her eyes as she turned away from the grave.