Beaumont Brides Collection (54 page)

‘I know.’ She closed her lids and even before he had pulled out into the main road she had obeyed him, her lashes dark fringes against the translucence of her skin.

He glanced at her from time to time. She trusted him. No one else. It should have made him feel like a giant, instead he felt terribly afraid. He had promised her she was safe with him and no one could ever guarantee that.

*****

‘Claudia?’ She stirred, sighed, opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘We’re in Broomhill. Can you give me directions to your sister’s house?’

She yawned, stretched, looked at the clock on the dashboard. ‘It’s very late, perhaps we shouldn’t disturb them. We could always go-’

‘Are they expecting you?’ he interrupted.

‘Well, yes, I telephoned to say that I was coming, but-’

‘Then you must go straight there. From now on you must always do what you say you’re going to do, or make sure everyone knows you’ve changed your plans.’

‘Must I?’ Sleep had restored her and now her eyes glinted with amusement as she turned to him. ‘That could prove to be a real nuisance.’

‘Nuisance or not,’ he said, tightly, ‘they’re the rules and you’re going to have to live with them for the time being, no matter how much it affects your love life. Now, can I have those directions before we end up in the sea?’

Claudia, slightly ashamed of baiting him no matter how much he deserved it, told him the way to her sister’s home and fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the low stone manor house nestling in a fold of land above a small bay.

Luke opened the door as they came to a halt and she didn’t wait for anyone to open the car door, jumping down onto her sound foot and flinging herself into her brother-in-laws arms. He hugged her, held her briefly.

Then he looked over her shoulder at Mac standing beside the Landcruiser. Claudia watched in sly amusement as they sized one another up and then Luke, apparently satisfied with what he saw, moved towards him, hand outstretched.

‘Luke Devlin,’ he said.

‘Gabriel MacIntyre.’

‘But you can call him Mac,’ Claudia said.

Luke grinned down at her, arm still around her shoulders. ‘Can I?’

He offered Mac an apologetic smile, the kind of smile that men use when a woman has done something charmingly silly. Mac, she noted, did not respond. But then he had made no secret that of the fact that he didn’t think she was in the least bit charming and a lot worse than silly. He had made up his mind exactly what she was before he had set eyes on her. Which made his concern for her all the more puzzling.

‘Well, come on in, Mac,’ Luke said. ‘Make yourself at home.’ He turned back to Claudia. ‘But do it quietly, Fizz is asleep.’

Mac retrieved Claudia’s bag, shut the car door quietly and using a remote, set the alarm before looking up at the red box attached to the side of the house, just beneath the eaves. Apparently satisfied, he followed them over the threshold.

Claudia crossed the black and white chequered floor of the hall. ‘If nobody minds,’ she said, ‘I’m going straight to bed, I’m suffering a serious shortfall of sleep.’ But at the foot of the broad oak staircase she turned back. ‘Well? Are you coming, Mac?’ she asked, despite her tiredness she was unable to resist the opportunity to torment him again, just a little.

He might think her a wanton, but he wasn’t entirely unaffected by her or why would he have raced to the theatre when she had momentarily lost her head and called for help?

‘Coming?’

She was interested to note the slight flush that darkened his cheekbones.

‘I thought you’d want to look under my bed, check out the wardrobe.’ She paused. ‘In fact I was sure you’d insist on sleeping at the foot of my bed like a faithful watchdog. You’re not going to disappoint me, are you?’

‘I think I’m going to have to.’ She saw him relax as he realised that she wasn’t serious. It was an interesting reaction. Most men she knew would have leapt at the chance, which was why she didn’t issue the invitation to every Tom, Dick or Harry. But it was hardly surprising that a man called Gabriel would defy that kind of simple categorisation.

‘I don’t believe I know you that well, Claudia.’

‘No? Try convincing the eleven million people watching your performance on television tonight and see how far you get,’ she reminded him.

‘Neither of us had much choice about that.’

‘Not the most gallant response, Mr MacIntyre. You could at least pretend you enjoyed yourself. You certainly convinced me.’ She turned away to hide the little flush of annoyance that heated her cheeks. ‘Did you see how much money we raised for the hospice, Luke?’

‘We were glued to the screen and Fizz was deeply touched at the personal sacrifice involved,’ Luke replied, with the straightest of faces. ‘However, there’s no need for either of you to suffer further since we’ve plenty of room. But Claudia...’ She waited. ‘Fizz doesn’t know about what happened at the theatre tonight. I’d rather you didn’t tell her. I don’t want her upset.’

Claudia forgot about teasing Mac in her concern for her sister, coming back down the stairs a little way. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

‘Nothing at all and I intend it should stay that way so, as I said, I’d be grateful if you didn’t wake her.’ He turned to Gabriel MacIntyre, directing him towards the study. ‘Mac, can I interest you in a drink?’

Claudia, lingering on the stairs, watched them disappear into the dark panelled interior of Luke’s study. Mac was going to tell him what had happened. Everything. They were going to talk about her. Decide what was best for her and then tomorrow they would certainly insist that she take a break from Private Lives until the nightmare was over.

She felt like going back downstairs and telling them that they might as well save their breath. But she also felt bone-achingly weary, certainly too weary to go back down the stairs and argue her corner so she left them to it.

Tomorrow would be soon enough.

They could demand all they liked, but it wouldn’t make any difference. She wasn’t about to walk away from the theatre, even for a day. Not because she was enjoying the part particularly. But the run had been extended because of the demand for tickets and an awful lot of people were depending on her for a job.

*****

‘Whisky?’ Luke Devlin asked.

‘Thanks.’

Luke was puzzled. He hadn’t known Claudia for much more than six months and he hadn’t seen a great deal of her in that time. But he thought he knew the kind of men she liked to be seen with. The kind of men who paid a fortune to have their hair cut twice a week, wore Italian suits and handmade shoes and who had soft, well-manicured hands.

‘Water?’ he asked.

‘Just as it comes, thanks.’ Luke handed him a heavy crystal tumbler and poured one for himself. ‘I’m sorry to impose on your hospitality so late at night.’

‘It’s no problem. Claudia’s always welcome. And her friends.’ Luke motioned to one of a pair of leather chairs set in front of wide open French windows. He had Fizz had been sitting there earlier, enjoying the night scents from the garden, the sound of the sea washing against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. ‘Have you known her long?’

‘No, only a couple of days. And we’re not exactly friends.’

‘Well, I have to admit that I did notice the slightest suggestion of a clash of temperament, but you can never tell with Claudia. She is very good at hiding her feelings beneath that provoking manner of hers.’

‘I hadn’t noticed her making much effort to hide her feelings,’ Mac said. ‘On the contrary, I find her bracingly direct.’

‘I’d say that’s a good sign. If it matters.’

‘Is it?’ When Mac looked up from his glass his face was creased in a rueful smile. ‘You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end.’

He wasn’t saying whether it mattered, Luke noticed. Which probably meant that it did, so he changed the subject. ‘You’d better tell me what happened at the theatre tonight.’

Mac told him about the dress, then about the letter, the photograph and finally about his suspicions that the car had been tampered with.

‘Can I ask why Claudia turned to you for help?’

‘She didn’t. I rather imposed myself on her. She didn’t seem to be taking the danger at all seriously. She’s convinced the letter and photograph were just a rather tasteless joke.’

‘And the car?’ Luke probed.

‘The car is more difficult. She doesn’t want to believe that, because it clearly takes the whole thing way beyond even the nastiest kind of joke. She’s insisting that I’ve got a James Bond complex.’

‘But you haven’t?’ He didn’t want to the offend the man, but it did all seem rather far fetched. If it wasn’t for the costume he’d be inclined to agree with Claudia.

‘If someone can convince me that I’m wrong I’ll be happy to admit my mistake. I’ve arranged for an independent assessor to look at the car. Ostensibly for insurance purposes.’

‘In the meantime you think she’d be safer here?’

‘I didn’t say that. I brought her here tonight because it was what she wanted and I didn’t think she could face any more. But your wife is pregnant, I believe?’

‘Well, yes. But it won’t be any trouble having Claudia here. We’ve got a housekeeper-’

‘That wasn’t what I was getting at. If someone really wants to hurt Claudia he may come after her. I don’t think she should stay beyond the weekend.’

‘She’ll be perfectly safe here.’

‘Will she?’ Mac gestured towards the open window. ‘Did you leave this open when you came to the front door?’

Luke regarded him thoughtfully. ‘You mean anyone could have walked in? It would have taken a lot of nerve.’

‘He walked into the theatre this evening and slashed her costume to ribbons. He managed to get that photograph into a parachute inside my own security cordon. Don’t doubt his nerve.’ He took a swallow of whisky. ‘Keeping a house of this size secure in high summer would be a real strain. Locked windows, closed doors. Your wife couldn’t fail to notice something was amiss.’

‘Are you offering to help?’

‘Security is my business, Devlin.’

‘I see. Then you’d better tell me what you have in mind.’

*****

‘Claudia? Are you awake?’

She opened her eyes, blinking sleepily. ‘I am now,’ she grumbled, then smiled as she saw who it was. ‘Hello, Fizz. How are you?’

Her sister put the cup she was carrying on the night table and perched on the side of the bed, her hand curled protectively about the noticeable bump where her baby was growing. Claudia didn’t need to ask how her sister was. She was glowing. Marriage, the approach of motherhood had put a bloom on her that made Claudia suddenly feel very empty and alone.

‘I’m feeling wonderful,’ she confirmed. ‘How about you?’

‘Me? Same as ever. I’m just dandy.’

‘Are you?’ Fizz asked, her smooth forehead creasing with concern. ‘You look a bit...’ Claudia watched her sister struggle for some tactful way to say that she looked washed out.

‘Tired?’ she offered.

‘Mmmm. A bit. Have you been overdoing it?’

‘Burning my candle at both ends? At every conceivable opportunity, darling. It’s what life is for. My life, anyway.’

‘I don’t know. Even Luke mentioned that you look a bit...’ Again the hesitation.

‘Tired?’ Claudia offered again.

Fizz grinned. ‘Exhausted, actually. And Mac seems to be very concerned about you.’

‘He’s very caring,’ Claudia assured her.

‘Then perhaps you should take a week off and let him care for you?’

Claudia laughed out loud. ‘Trust a pair of men to get a woman to do their dirty work for them.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Fizz declared.

‘Your nose will grow, miss,’ Claudia warned and her sister gave a little shrug. ‘You have you been elected to persuade me to take a week off, admit it.’

‘Now I’ve seen you, I really think you should.’

‘Don’t be silly, Fizz. You know I can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘A fully booked theatre?’ Claudia offered.

‘I suppose a few people will be disappointed.’

‘Well, thank you, darling,’ Claudia replied, with the gentlest touch of reproach.

‘Maybe a dozen then.’

‘Oh, wow. A whole dozen.’

‘All right, all right,’ she laughed. ‘They’ll be riots in Shaftsbury Avenue. But you’ve been working so hard these last few months and you saw what happened to Dad when he drove himself to the limit. If you carry on and collapse from exhaustion you’ll be forced to take a break whether you want to or not.’

‘Dad was suffering from stress. I’m just suffering from a surfeit of early mornings and late nights. Parachuting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It isn’t all fun, you know.’

‘Really? It looked a heck of a lot of fun to me. Tell me about it.’

‘You’re too young. But I promise you I’m not about to collapse. Besides, that would be different. People would be sympathetic. And they would feel uncomfortable about asking for their money back. If I just swan off for a holiday with some hunk of a man the public would, quite rightly, lose confidence in me and they wouldn’t book in advance.’