Beaumont Brides Collection (57 page)

‘So it shouldn’t be too difficult to start a few rumours of lust at first sight?’

She waved a hand in weary resignation. ‘Stopping them will be the problem.’

‘I don’t think we should even try.’ He took her hand, held it for a moment. ‘You see, don’t you, what I’m getting at?’

‘I’m having a slow brain day. Enlighten me.’

‘As your latest and most ardent lover I don’t suppose anyone would be surprised to see me at your heels twenty-four hours a day. Would they?’ And with that he lifted her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture. But his eyes when he lifted them to meet hers were anything but. ‘What do you say, sweetheart?’

Claudia didn’t say any thing for the simple reason that she was speechless. The thought that anyone who knew her would be convinced that he was her lover was laughable. He just wasn’t her type. No way.

He was still looking at her in that intense, self mocking way that gave her goose bumps. He was waiting for her to answer, waiting for her to leap into his arms in gratitude. Well he could wait.

‘Actually, Mac, I’d say you were quite mad, but since I don’t think very well on an empty stomach I’m prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt,’ she said, with exquisite politeness. ‘For now.’ And since she was a talented actress she had no trouble at all in finding a smile with which to humour him. Then she realised that he was still holding her hand and she snatched it back, rather spoiling the effect.

‘Were you serious about lunch, or simply tormenting me with the promise of food?’ she snapped. ‘It’s a long time since the sandwich after yesterday’s matinee.’

‘You haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon? And you think I’m crazy?’ He leaned forward to start the engine. ‘It sounds to me as if you need a nanny as well as a bodyguard.’

Claudia recalled the competent way he had moved around her kitchen and it occurred to her that being looking after by Mac might have it advantages.

‘It’s a long time since I had a nanny. Can you cook?’ she asked.

‘I wasn’t volunteering to double up.’

‘Weren’t you?’ She shrugged. ‘That’s a shame. But I suppose living on takeaways goes with your line of work. I’m afraid I’ve never quite managed to get the hang of domesticity.’

‘I don’t suppose there’s much cause for you to develop your domestic talents. Not when you have so much else to offer.’

It was truly incredible the way Mac managed to invest even the most innocent of statements with insult, Claudia decided and she hit right back.

‘No doubt your wife was a wonderful cook. In fact I imagine she was perfection personified.’

‘You know nothing about her.’

There was a satisfactory tightness in his voice. Well, it would do the man good to realise that verbal fencing was a two-way sport.

‘Maybe not. But I know about you. And it’s clear that nothing short of perfection would ever have satisfied you.’

‘Your mouth will get you into serious trouble one day. If it hasn’t already.’

‘Personally I distrust perfection. My mother was renowned for it. Perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect actress.’

‘You don’t take after her.’

‘No, thank God.’ She suddenly lost interest in baiting him. ‘Will you stop the car here please. I’d be happier in a taxi with a driver who wouldn’t feel he had a right to continually criticise me.’

‘I’ll do you a favour and pretend I didn’t hear that.’ He tossed her a warning glance. ‘It’s a couple of miles to the pub and there’s not much in between. You’ll never make it those sandals.’

She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his two miles, his pub, his protection, but he lifted his left hand from the steering wheel and laid his fingers lightly on her lips. His touch went through her like a lightning bolt, fizzing, explosive, dangerous.

‘Enough, Claudia.’ She jerked her head away from him and his hand dropped back to the steering wheel. But the point of contact just went on burning.

They drove on in silence, but Mac’s mind was seething. Why wouldn’t she accept the reality of what was happening to her? Last night she had been terrified and he had thought it would be the simplest matter to persuade her to take all the necessary precautions for her safety. This morning she had anticipated the danger to her sister without him having to spell it out.

If he was prepared to reorganise his life to make sure she was safe, why wouldn’t she just accept his offer gracefully?

He wanted to stop the car, but not to let her out. He wanted to take hold of her by the shoulders and physically shake her.

Worse, he wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to carry her deep into the woods and make love to her, anything that would put a stop to the infuriating, reckless way she let her mouth run away with her. He wanted her soft and warm in his arms, her voice silky with longing. He gave a little gasp from somewhere deep in his throat.

She turned to him. ‘Did you say something?’

‘No.’ Then, ‘But I’m sorry.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ She touched her fingers to her ear and leaned towards him. ‘I don’t believe I quite caught that.’ Her voice was rich with sarcasm. Well, she had a voice that had been developed to show any emotion, any feeling she chose. ‘Was that an apology, Mr MacIntyre?’

Of course it was an apology. She knew that. Did she have to make a meal of it? Gloat? Why couldn’t she just accept it? But it was too late to retract.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve no right to make comments about you or how you live.’

‘Too damn right you haven’t. You know nothing about me.’

Her sharpness sparked an instant echo in him.

‘On the contrary, I know too much about you and I don’t much like it. But you know nothing whatever about me. Or my wife. And that’s the way I’d like to keep it. As far as I’m concerned this is purely business,’ he said, responding in kind.

Another minute and they’d be shouting at one another.

He gave a little exclamation of disgust. Whatever had happened to his self-control? He glanced at Claudia. She’d happened to it.

He’d been on a knife edge since she crossed his path, crashing her way into his life. He loathed everything she was even while he burned with an insane desire to hold her, to protect her, to feel the heat of those long legs wrapped about him. For a moment it hung in the balance. He could see the battle raging within her.

She wanted to tell him to go to hell. But he couldn’t let that happen. Someone wanted to hurt her and she didn’t know where to turn for safety. He couldn’t allow her push him away.

‘Why don’t we discuss terms over lunch?’

‘That suits me just fine,’ she declared. Then suddenly, ‘And I’m sorry too. About your wife.’ She made a tiny, rather helpless little gesture that might have meant anything but told him more than any number of words that her edginess had far more to do with being scared than being angry.

She hadn’t mentioned the second letter, but it had shaken her far more than she would ever admit. Claudia Beaumont, he realised with something of a shock, was a great deal tougher than she looked. But she was still one very frightened lady.

Tempting as it was to offer bland reassurance, he was glad she didn’t underestimate the danger; something about the whole series of incidents worried him more than he had admitted, even to Luke. The lack of pattern was puzzling.

The only links so far were the letters and maybe the photograph in the parachute. Unpleasant in themselves, but not life threatening.

The incident with the dress seemed much more personal, so much closer and that made it especially frightening, but all of those things had the same feel to them.

The car was something else entirely.

That had been potentially lethal. He had played it down, but in a car built for speed, driven by a woman with an inclination to show off, sudden brake-failure could have been catastrophic. And without that first letter or the photograph, who would have looked for evidence of foul play?

‘What’s the matter?’

He kept his eyes on the road. ‘Matter?’

‘You frowned. I hope you’re not lost.’

He had the distinct feeling that he was being teased. Claudia Beaumont was a creature whose moods changed as quickly as the weather and he discovered that it was very easy to respond to them.

‘No, ma’am. In fact you can tell your frantic stomach that we’ve arrived.’ And, as he took a long right-handed bend, a small village opened up before them.

It had everything. A cluster of cottages, an ancient church, a green complete with a pond and a family of ducks. And the perfect picture postcard thatched village inn. Mac pulled into the small, but packed car park, squeezing the Landcruiser into the last space.

‘What do you think?’

‘I think it’s lovely. I just hope we can get a table.’

‘Leave me to worry about that. I’m a particular friend of the landlady.’

He opened the door and swung her down onto the tarmac, but although her scented hair brushed his cheek he stepped back quickly, turning away to usher her through the door into a low, oak-beamed bar. There was an instant shout of joyous recognition.

‘Mac! You should have let me know you were coming.’

Claudia watched him lean across the bar to take the hand of an elegant silver-blonde who had to be in her forties, but whose perfect bone structure and flawless skin gave her the kind of ageless good looks that would never fade. He kissed the woman’s cheek and seeing the very real warmth in Mac’s eyes, Claudia felt a stir of something possessive grip her.

When they were with her, men weren’t supposed to notice other women.

But he hadn’t lied when he said he was a particular friend of the landlady.

‘Diana, it’s good to see you,’ he said, still holding her hand. ‘How’re you both keeping?’ Both? Claudia looked around for the woman’s husband. There was no sign of him.

‘We’re fine, Mac,’ Diana replied. ‘But run off our feet as you can see. Heather, look who’s here.’

‘Hello, Mac.’ The girl was longing to fling her arms about him, Claudia could see. Instead she stood awkwardly, waiting for him to notice her. It was impossible to miss her in Doc Marten’s and a pair of thick black tights she was wearing in defiance of the August sunshine, topped by a miniscule tartan skirt and a baggy black t-shirt. Her hair had been savagely cropped and henna’d.

Mac managed not to flinch. But he wasn’t tactful either.

‘Hello, carrots,’ he said, flicking her cropped hairdo. ‘What happened to the pigtails?’ The deep flush of red that coloured the girl’s cheeks, clashing horribly with her hair, must have alerted him to his mistake because he quickly turned to introduce Claudia. ‘Claudia, Diana Archer and her daughter Heather.’ No husband, then. ‘Diana, this is-’

‘Introductions aren’t necessary.’ Diana smiled warmly and detached herself from Mac’s hand to offer her own. ‘Miss Beaumont you’re very welcome.’

‘Claudia, please,’ she found herself saying. Diana was impossible to dislike. Natural warmth exuded from every pore and it was little wonder her pub was full.

‘We saw you both on the television last night,’ Diana said.

‘Did you?’ Mac asked, with a grimace. ‘I was hoping there might have been a nationwide power cut.’

Heather’s eyes flickered defiantly in Claudia’s direction. ‘I’m not surprised, it was dreadfully tacky.’

‘Heather!’ Diana protested, but Mac laughed.

‘The child’s right. Tacky scarcely covers it,’ he assured her. ‘But Claudia raised a lot of money for the hospice. And the donation to the club will come in useful.’

‘When are you going to let me join?’ Heather asked, placing her hand proprietarily upon his arm.

‘I’m not.’

‘Mac!’ she protested.

‘You lack all the necessary qualifications, sweetheart. You aren’t an underprivileged youth from some inner city slum with at least one conviction for anti-social behaviour to your name.’

‘And you’re not a boy,’ Diana added, quickly.

‘You don’t just take boys, do you Mac? You teach girls to jump.’

‘It has been known. Why don’t you to ask Claudia what she thought of the experience? I don’t think she’d willingly do it again.’

‘Not for an Academy Award,’ Claudia responded, obligingly.

‘Well, she’s just a bimbo, what do you expect?’ Heather retorted, then blushed so hotly that no one had the heart to upbraid her for her rudeness, although Claudia thought that might have made things even worse.

But Diana wasn’t prepared to allow her daughter any further leeway.

‘Heather, the table by the window needs clearing. Will you see to it? Now.’

The girl glared at her mother as she walked away, furious at being dismissed to undertake such a menial task. Claudia felt a twinge of compassion for the girl, even though she probably deserved worse. She was clearly besotted with Mac and her mother knew it. But then Diana was a good looking woman and it was entirely possible that she had plans of her own in his direction.

‘Are you staying for lunch, Mac?’ Diana asked.

‘If you can find us a table. I didn’t expect you to be this busy.’

‘Thank goodness for the tourists,’ Diana said, with feeling. ‘They see us through the winter. ‘Can you wait ten minutes? Or you can come through to the back if you’d prefer to be private?’ She glanced enquiringly at Claudia.