Merlyn's Magic (14 page)

Rand stood in front of her, darkly handsome in the black
evening suit and snowy-white shirt, the glossy blackness of his hair
lightly brushing against the collar of the latter.

He continued to look at her wordlessly, and Merlyn felt as
if her chest were about to explode from the intake of air that had
caught in her throat and stayed there. Why didn't he say something,
anything, even if it were only to tell her to get out!

'I think I preferred you as a redhead,' he finally drawled.

The air was expelled from her lungs in a ragged sigh, and
she could almost have hugged him for the normality of his comment.
Almost. Two things stopped her. They had an audience. And she
remembered too well his threat of this afternoon.

'With make-up and the contact lenses Merlyn's had fitted
you won't be able to tell the difference,' Christopher was the one to
answer him.

Grey eyes chilling over like ice were turned on him. '
I
would know the difference,' Rand told him, dangerously soft.

'Well of course
you
would,'
Christopher dismissed. 'But—Ouch!' He glared at Merlyn as she
trod on his foot as she moved further into the room.

'Sorry, was that your foot?' she said carelessly over her
shoulder.

'You know damn well it—'

'I said I was sorry, Christopher.' She looked at him
challengingly.

'Can I get you a drink, Miss Summers?' Rand offered
smoothly as it seemed no one was about to win the battle of wills
taking place between Merlyn and Christopher.

'Thank you, a small sherry would be nice.' They were
acting like polite strangers when this afternoon they had been feverish
lovers. But if he could act the part, she certainly could.

'I'll have a whisky, thanks. A large one,' Christopher
told the other man without being asked, turning on Merlyn as soon as
they were alone. 'You did that on purpose,' he complained as he
balanced on one foot to rub the painful bruise she had made on the
other one.

'Yes, I did,' she nodded impatiently. 'And I'll do it
again if you don't learn some tact.'

'But I only—Oh.' He broke off, grimacing. 'I got
a little carried away with the professional satisfaction of knowing
we've been able to make you almost Suzie's double,' he acknowledged.

She didn't want to be any woman's double, not even one she
respected and admired as much as Suzie Forrester.

She accepted the drink Rand handed her with constrained
anger, avoiding his gaze as she sensed he was watching her, her
impatience with Christopher increasing as he was lured away with
compliments on the films he had directed in the past, soon the centre
of attention across the room from them.

Now Merlyn had no choice but to look at Rand. I'm sorry,'
she apologised awkwardly.

He shrugged. 'I've met people like Drake before; he didn't
bother me.'

'Oh, I didn't mean because of Christopher
—although goodness knows he has a skin as thick as a
rhinoceros's!' She sighed. 'I meant because of what they've done to my
hair.' She looked up at him uncertainly.

'I won't be able to see the colour of it in the dark,'
Rand said softly.

Merlyn swallowed convulsively. 'I meant because it's now
like Suzie's,' she croaked, too disturbed to dwell on what
he
meant.

Rand shook his head. 'It's nothing like Suzie's was before
she died,' he rasped. 'When she became so ill she had her hair cut as
short as a boy's and took to wearing a wig styled in her original way;
I think she was frightened of her own hair dropping out from the
initial treatment they gave her—before she told them she
would find a cure that didn't make her feel more ill than her illness!
When she died it was about two inches long all over. It was as soft as
a baby's curls,' he added gruffly.

'I didn't know…' And Christopher had made her
have her own hair coloured so that it looked more natural than a wig!

Rand's mouth twisted. 'Maybe you had better tell Drake so
that he can put it in the script!' He looked at her coldly before
turning and going back to the array of drinks on a side-table.

'I hope the supplies last,' James murmured at Merlyn's
side as he joined her. 'The way he's been knocking the stuff back since
he arrived we could run out before dinner is even served,' he explained
grimly at Merlyn's questioning look.

'Can't you do anything to stop him?' She watched Rand
worriedly as he drank the fiery alcohol as if it were water.

'Can you?' James sighed, obviously not meaning the remark
to be taken seriously.

No matter what her feelings were for Rand
—confusing as they were, wanting him and yet hating him at
the same time—she couldn't stand by and watch him drink
himself to death. 'I can try,' she said determinedly.

'Hey, I was only joking—'

'I wasn't,' she told James firmly.

'Then I wish you luck,' he grimaced. 'Anne's planned this
dinner party for such a long time, and I don't want her upset,' he
frowned. 'Not now.'

Her eyes widened. 'James, is she—?'

'Don't spoil her fun,' he warned. 'She's going to make the
announcement during dinner,' he told her conspiratorially.

'Oh, James, that's wonderful!' She realised hugging him
was the wrong thing to do about two seconds after she had done it. She
had arrived with one man, argued with another, publically hugged her
host—and all within about ten minutes of her arrival! These
people were going to think that every scandalous thing they had ever
heard or read about actresses was true.

'Now that's more like it.' A grinning Anne joined them. 'I
didn't marry "the handsomest man for three counties" not to be envied
by
every
woman I meet!'

Merlyn laughed self-consciously. ' "The handsomest man for
three counties" can't be trusted to keep a secret, I'm afraid,' she
confided in her friend. 'I was just congratulating him on the prospect
of becoming a father.'

Anne punched her husband lightly on the arm. 'By the time
I make the announcement it will be unnecessary because everyone will
already know!'

James rubbed his arm, his expression one of wounded
indignation. 'Can I help it if I'm the original blabbermouth?'

'No.' His wife glared at him with feigned anger, her eyes
as warm and loving as ever.

'I am pleased for you both.' Merlyn hugged the woman who
had become such a good friend in such a short time. 'Practice time is
over, hm?' she teased.

Anne blushed prettily as she looked at her husband. 'I
hope not!'

'Would someone like to let me in on
that
secret?' James looked at the two of them curiously.

Merlyn shrugged dismissively, enjoying sharing the joke
with Anne. 'Just women's talk. You know how it is.'

'No—but I'm about to put the thumbscrews on my
wife and find out!'

'Ooh, I love it when he becomes a caveman!' Anne giggled.

'I think that's one of the things we have to talk about,'
James growled. 'And you,' he turned to Merlyn, 'were about to stop one
of my guests drowning himself.'

'What—Oh.' Anne followed her husband's gaze
across the room to where Rand stood holding a glass of whisky. 'Oh
dear…' She looked distressed.

'You shouldn't be upset just now.' Merlyn squeezed her arm
reassuringly. 'Don't worry, I'll take care of Rand.' She hoped she
sounded more confident than she felt; Rand looked about as malleable as
a tiger being held by the tail.

Anne still looked worried. 'I wasn't sure he would come,
and as he started drinking as soon as he got here I didn't even like to
warn him about your appearance—although he took that very
well. Better than I hoped.' She chewed on her bottom lip, looking up at
James. 'Perhaps we shouldn't have—'

'He didn't have to come, darling,' her husband soothed,
his arm about her shoulders protectively. 'And we're entitled to live
our own lives.'

'Yes, but—'

'It's been two years, Anne, and he'll have to accept, as
we have, that life goes on.'

'You're right,' his wife nodded. 'But I can't help wishing
that—'

'Will you enjoy your party and stop worrying,' Merlyn
instructed lightly. 'I told you, I'll handle Rand, and I will.' Her
expression was set determinedly as she crossed the room to his side.
His gaze flicked over her disinterestedly before he turned away again.
'Leave some of that for the rest of us, won't you,' she snapped, stung
by his dismissal.

His gaze was cold now. 'Help yourself,' he invited in a
bored voice.

She drew in a ragged breath. 'Why did you come here
tonight, Rand?'

His eyes narrowed at the question. 'Because I was
invited,' he shrugged.

Merlyn nodded. 'To share in a happy occasion with Anne and
James, not to get drunk!'

'I'm not drunk,' he bit out raspingly.

No, he wasn't. Strangely enough, with each sip of the
whisky he seemed to become even more controlled rather than less
inhibited as most people did. 'You
are
upsetting
our hostess,' she said abruptly.

A slight flush darkened his cheeks as he turned to look at
Anne, putting his still half-full glass down on the table beside him
with a thud as he saw how pale his sister-in-law was as she made an
effort to converse with some of her guests while watching him covertly
at the same time.

'You're right,' he agreed as he turned back to Merlyn. 'I
should never have come here tonight—'

'I didn't say that.' She shook her head. 'I only wondered
why
you had.'

'Because Anne and James are the nearest thing to a family
that I have,' he grated.

'Rand—'

'Why don't we give the gossips something to really think
about and get out of here?' His eyes glittered recklessly at the
suggestion.

Merlyn wasn't naive enough to accept the statement at face
value as she could have with most other men; Rand wasn't like 'most
other men', and he wanted their relationship to continue in a way she
couldn't accept.

His mouth twisted as he saw she was about to refuse. 'We
could sit in one of the hotel lounges and talk,' he derided.

Talking wasn't something she and Rand had ever done much
of, and while the idea appealed to her she couldn't let Anne and James
down in that way. Although maybe she would have been doing them a
favour by removing Rand from their party.

'Maybe not,' Rand drawled before she could formulate an
answer. 'Talking seems to be the last thing on my mind when I'm alone
with you!'

A blush highlighted her cheeks. 'We wouldn't be
alone—'

'Forget it,' he cut in harshly. 'I was right the first
time, it would give these gossips too much to talk about. And they
never could understand why one of the Forresters married one of the
nouveau
riche
in the first place!' His voice held contempt for their
snobbery.

Merlyn frowned. 'I'm sure you're wrong; James didn't have
any wealth of his own when he married Anne, and he's accepted by all
her friends.'

'Because he's one of the Bentons, my dear,' Rand mimicked
a snobbishly aristocratic accent. 'No money but plenty of class,' he
added bitterly.

She shook her head. 'I'm sure you're wrong about the way
they regard you.'

'Maybe you're right,' he shrugged. 'Since Suzie's death
none of them has spoken to me enough for me to find out!' He gave a
harsh laugh.

Merlyn frowned her puzzlement. 'Do you really care what
these people think of you?' He gave the impression that he needed no
one.

'For myself?' he grated, shaking his head. 'No, I don't
care,' he scorned. 'But for Suzie? Hell, yes, I mind!'

'You haven't given them a chance, Rand,' she reasoned.
'James told me he hasn't seen much of you lately, and I gather the two
of you used to be good friends.' The latter was a guess, but from the
warm way James spoke of the other man she thought it was a correct one.

'The
four
of us used to be good
friends,' he corrected harshly.

'Oh, Rand.' She shook her head impatiently at his
unyielding attitude.

His expression darkened. 'I really do prefer you with red
hair, you know.'

She blinked at the sudden change of subject, guessing by
the way his gaze was fixed on her hair that her movement had drawn
attention to it. 'So do I,' she sighed. 'But Christopher insisted.'

Rand's narrow-eyed gaze turned to the other man as he
continued to be the centre of attention across the room. 'Suzie told me
when she worked with him that he's a brilliant director,' he bit out
abruptly.

'He is,' Merlyn nodded.

Icy grey eyes turned back to her. 'Have the two of you
been lovers long?' he rasped.

She caught her breath. 'I told you—'

'And Anne told me a different story,' he scorned. 'All
about his concern for you when you became ill last time you were here.'

Merlyn became suddenly still, looking at him warily. 'You
know I had the flu when I was here before?' She watched him closely,
still uncertain if that man who had made love to her had been part of
her fever or if he had really existed.

Rand met her gaze steadily. 'Anne told me all about it.'

'When?'

'When?' he repeated softly, his brows raised in silent
mockery.

'Yes.' The colour had returned to brighten her cheeks.
'Before or after I left?'

He shrugged. 'Is it important?'

'Yes! No! Probably not,' she decided heavily; it was
unlikely she would ever know the truth about that night.

Rand watched her with narrowed eyes. 'You don't sound very
sure.'

'Yes, I—' She broke off gratefully as Anne
announced dinner was ready, suppressing the shiver of awareness that
shot down her spine to hang suspended between her thighs in a warm
acknowledgement of Rand as he put his hand in the middle of her back to
escort her in to dinner.

She was deluding herself if she thought she would ever be
able to deny this man, tonight or any other night he wanted her.