Beaumont Brides Collection (48 page)

Claudia swallowed hard, sipped the tea, then dragged her attention back to the man sitting opposite her. ‘Publicity stunt?’ She pushed her hair back, desperate for something to do with her hands. For a moment they had stopped shaking. Now the tremor threatened her entire body. ‘Of course it wasn’t a stunt. What kind of sick idiot would engineer something like that?’

‘I’m asking the questions.’

He didn’t care how she was feeling. All that tea and sympathy had been so much guff. That somehow stiffened her response. She wasn’t about to be put through the third degree in her own home by a man who had broken in and scared her half to death just to prove how easy it was.

‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘If it was a stunt it didn’t work so why are you getting so steamed up about it?’

‘Because someone messed about with a parachute in my care. I intend to find out why and by whom. I’ve got my own security to think of.’

His security? Oh, la di da.

‘You should have lined us all up against the wall and interrogated us this morning,’ she snapped. ‘I’m sure you carry thumb screws on your key ring.’

‘Maybe I should have,’ he replied, in the same cool manner, ignoring the thumb screws remark, but not denying it. ‘But this morning I thought I knew who had done this. I was mistaken. So, was it a stunt?’ The last four words were rattled at her like pellets from a gun.

‘No,’ she declared, instinctively backing away from him. ‘Of course it wasn’t.’ She felt defensive, ashamed that he should think she could be involved in something so nastily tacky.

He saw her reaction and pressed her for a answer. ‘You’re quite sure?’ he insisted. ‘Think about it.’

Claudia thought about it. Her considered reaction was the same as her instinctive one. Her agent knew better than to involve her in anything of that kind; he was on knife edge with her already over a carelessly drawn contract that had cost her a lot of money. The only other alternative was Barty.

Barty was something of an unknown quantity, but she was pretty sure that if he had been involved, it would have been handled with rather more skill. For a publicity stunt to work a whole lot of people had to know about it. On that basis alone would have been a flop. But if it wasn’t her agent and it wasn’t Barty, who had taken so much trouble to cut up her photograph and put it where she would find it? Claudia wasn’t sure it was a question she wanted to ask.

Mac wasn’t so reticent. ‘Claudia?’ he prompted, reminding her that he wasn’t going away until he had an answer. And if that was what it took to get rid of him...

‘If Barty had organised a stunt like this,’ she said, very slowly, ‘it wouldn’t have failed. There would have been a reporter and a press photographer on hand. And he would have ensured that someone reliable would have found...’ She reached out to touch the photograph, then snatched her hand back and put it over her mouth. It had to be connected with the letter. And that meant only one thing. Whoever had written it had meant every word.

‘Reliable?’ Mac prompted.

She raised her lashes to meet his questioning eyes. ‘Someone in on the stunt. Someone who would have known how to make a fuss. The technician who hooked up the power pack probably. Why didn’t you say something?’ she demanded. ‘If I’d known why you’d changed the wretched thing I wouldn’t have been so...’ She made a little gesture.

‘So what?’ Mac asked.

Scared.

But it was stupid to be scared. It was just a prank. It had to be. The alternative was too dreadful to contemplate.

When she didn’t answer, he continued. ‘I didn’t say anything because at the time I thought I knew who had done it. I didn’t think it would help you to know about it. And I didn’t believe she would have tampered with the parachute. In fact I know she didn’t, because I checked it after you’d gone. Which is why I wondered about a stunt.’

‘She?’ The penny dropped. ‘You were protecting Tony’s wife.’

‘She’s pregnant, a bit overwrought, which is hardly surprising under the circumstances.’

‘What circumstances?’

‘He’d told her he was going to a regimental reunion and she asked me if I was going. Not unnaturally I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then she found a ticket for tonight’s show in one of Tony’s pockets.’

‘You should have told me,’ she insisted.

‘Why? Since the object of the exercise was to frighten you, if I’d told you about the photograph I’d have done Adele’s work for her. And I didn’t want you scared.’

‘You amaze me. I had the impression that “scared” was the very least of the many fates you were wishing on me this morning.’

‘Did you?’ He seemed momentarily taken aback. Then after consideration he conceded that she might be right. ‘Maybe I was less than sympathetic after you had ploughed into my car and attempted to demolish my hangar.’

‘I didn’t do it deliberately.’

‘Pardon me?’ he said, with every appearance of disbelief. ‘I thought you did.’ Claudia had known she had made a mistake the minute she’d said it, but it was too late to do anything about it now. She would just have to sit and take it. ‘A question of choosing the lesser of two evils, wasn’t it?’ Mac continued. ‘I do hope Barty James was suitably grateful.’

‘Barty James is a pain in the backside. And if you think my driving leaves something to be desired, his has to be experienced to be believed.’

‘You did say fast,’ he pointed out. Then he lifted one shoulder slightly. ‘But if I’m entirely honest with you,’ he continued, ‘I did have another reason for not telling you about the photograph.’

‘Oh?’ She couldn’t wait.

‘I thought if you had another shock on top of the accident you’d call off the jump for the day. I really didn’t want to go through that performance again.’

‘Not even for a double fee?’ she enquired, remembering the eagerness of the crew to pack up and go home.

He must have remembered it too, because he managed a wry a smile. ‘No, Claudia. Not even for a double fee.’

But it wasn’t funny. ‘You should have told me, Mac,’ she insisted.

‘There was no risk-’

‘No risk?’ she demanded. ‘No risk?’ She was aware that her voice was rising, but the neatly dissected photograph was lying in front of her and she didn’t care. ‘Who the hell were you to decide whether there was a risk or not? It was my life!’

He regarded her with a thoughtful expression. ‘But I changed the parachute,’ he said, as if that was sufficient.

‘You changed the parachute,’ she repeated, ‘and that was the answer to everything, was it? Well, Mr Gabriel MacIntyre, you just listen to this. I woke up this morning to discover an anonymous letter on my mat. My kindly correspondent had gone to an enormous trouble, you know, cutting great big letters out of newspapers, just to let me know that my parachute wasn’t going to open. So it was a bit late to protect me from Adele’s scare tactics. She had already scored a bulls-eye.’

She had finally shocked that careful, interrogative expression off his face, Claudia thought. Mac was a man it would be hard to shock, but she had just managed to seriously disturb him. If she had had the time to think about it, she would have applauded herself for such an achievement. But she was too busy telling him exactly what he had done this morning.

‘I had actually managed to convince myself that it was just a sick joke-’

‘A joke?’

‘Some people have a very weird sense of humour,’ she told him. ‘And approximately eleven million people saw me on television last week. They all knew I was going to make a parachute jump this morning. When you’re in the public eye that kind of thing goes with the territory.’

‘You didn’t consider cancelling today?’

From somewhere she found a smile. ‘Believe me I wish I had. The entire twenty-four hours. But I figured that since the idea of the letter was to scare me out of making the jump, it had to be from someone with a motive for making me look pathetic. I mean, who would believe it? Really? If you’d read about it in the newspaper you’d have thought I’d done it myself just to get out of it. Wouldn’t you?’ she demanded.

‘Maybe I would,’ he agreed, without apology. ‘But it would have been wise to mention it so that I could have double-checked.’

‘Mention it?’ She regarded him with scorn. ‘Just when would I have mentioned it? After you started yelling at me? I don’t believe I had much time before.’

He ignored this. ‘You obviously didn’t take it seriously,’ he said. ‘No one could be that stupid.’

‘Oh, right. Give the man a coconut. I didn’t take it seriously. It made me feel sick to my stomach but I had still managed to convince myself that everything was fine. Who could tamper with my parachute? It was safely in the care of Tony and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. Would he?’ she demanded and was glad to see an angry colour darkening his cheekbones. ‘Of course not. Then, just as I stepped through the plane doorway I realised that you had changed the parachute, Mr MacIntyre. That no one had seen you do it. And quite suddenly it occurred to me that I didn’t know you from Adam...’

‘Claudia?’ He stood up. ‘You didn’t think...? Oh, my God, you did. You thought it wasn’t going to open.’

The recollection of that horrible moment was suddenly too much for her and she was off the stool and running for the bathroom as the bile rose to her throat, stinging, foul. She had eaten nothing all day as events had piled, one on top of the other, conspiring to rob her of her appetite, but her stomach muscles reacting belatedly to the day’s traumas weren’t bothered about that.

Now all she could taste was the acid of the few sips of champagne she had swallowed after the jump as she wretched and wretched and then slumped on the floor, her back against the bath, her forehead cold and clammy against her knee.

‘Claudia,’ Mac said, gently, his hands on her shoulders. ‘Come on. Get up.’

She jerked away from his touch. ‘Go away,’ she muttered, through the rawness of her throat. ‘Just leave me alone.’ He took no notice. Instead he lifted her to her feet, propping her on the edge of the bath before ringing out a flannel under the cold tap.

He wiped her face, pressed the cold cloth to her forehead. ‘There,’ he said, as if that would make everything better. ‘Come and lie down.’

His concern was obvious, but she didn’t want his concern. She just wanted him to go. And so she repeated her request for him to leave, somewhat less politely. He appeared to have been afflicted with sudden deafness, however, since instead of doing what he had been told, he picked her up and carried her through into the sitting room and put her on the sofa.

‘Lie down,’ he said, ‘and put your feet up.’

Claudia gave in, not gracefully, but she finally surrendered. It was obvious that Gabriel MacIntyre was a man who gave orders rather than took them so she stopped protesting, allowed him to remove her shoes and prop her feet on a cushion.

‘How’s the ankle?’ he asked, as an afterthought when he noticed the strapping.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my ankle that a pain killing injection and some efficient strapping couldn’t handle. I thought I told you to go?’

He went, but almost immediately returned with a glass of water. She shook her head and he put it on the table beside her. Then crouching down he took her hands, chafed at them.

‘For heaven’s sake,’ she declared, snatching them back. ‘Do I look like some heroine out of a Victorian melodrama?’

 ‘Yes, and from your colour one about to expire from consumption,’ he confirmed, but he stood up. ‘I did what I thought was best this morning. I know you must have had a horrible few seconds-

‘Seconds?’ She let her head fall back against the cushions, closing her eyes in an attempt to blot it out. ‘It felt like years. Falling and falling... Time to think of all the things I wouldn’t see, wouldn’t ever do.’

And for a moment he was holding her, as if trying to absorb the fit of trembling that had overtaken her. His chest had the solidity of a cliff and as she clung to him, for the first time that day she felt safe. It was an illusion of course. Cliffs were dangerous places, continually undermined by the waves and slipping into the sea. And men had feet of clay.

‘Are you in love with her?’ she asked.

‘In love?’ He pulled away to look down at her. ‘I don’t follow you.’

She thought he did, but she was prepared to humour him. ‘With Tony’s wife. That is why you tried to protect her, isn’t it? You’re in love with her yourself.’

‘Adele?’ The corners of his mouth creased in the wryest of smiles. ‘No, Claudia. I’m not in love with her. In fact she’s about the biggest pain in the backside I’ve ever met. Until today. Unfortunately, since she’s my sister I have to put up with her.’

She regarded him with disbelief. ‘Tony’s married to your sister and he’s prepared to risk fooling around?’

Mac’s mouth lifted at one corner in the wryest of smiles. ‘Under normal circumstances Adele is quite capable of handling Tony. She knows that he’s weak.’

Claudia sighed. ‘But he’s very pretty.’

‘As to that, I couldn’t offer a comment. He’s not my type.’

‘You don’t go for tall blondes?’ Claudia asked, and remembering his kiss, wondered what kind of woman he would go for. The dark-eyed, warm-skinned mother-earth type, no doubt. She touched the wedding band on his left hand. ‘And what about your wife, Mac? How does she feel about you kissing other women? Does she know where you are right now?’ His face darkened. She’d touched a raw nerve. She poked it harder. ‘Does she care?’