Merlyn's Magic (2 page)

'I had in mind,' Christopher paused, watching her closely,
'your going to see Carmichael.'

'Why?' Merlyn frowned, getting ready to punch him on his
arrogant nose if he so much as hinted again that she sleep with the
other man. Although she didn't think he would, not after the way she
had already reacted to the idea; Christopher certainly wasn't a stupid
man.

'To talk to him, of course,' he said in exasperation.
'Once he's met you he's going to realise we aren't all "ghoulish
bastards", that some of us are even quite decent.'

Merlyn looked sceptical. 'According to the book written by
his sister-in-law, he never liked or approved of his wife's career, and
he's shunned everything to do with that world since her death. A visit
from a woman who, in his mind, intends to capitalise on her death,
isn't likely to endear me to him!'

'Do we have any other choice?'

She knew that Christopher did, that he could shelve the
film and just keep coming up with other Suzies until Brandon Carmichael
accepted one out of desperation. On the other hand,
she
had no real choice, and Christopher knew that.

He turned to the waiter and nodded for their bill. 'Let's
go back to my place and discuss this further,' he suggested, silkily
soft, sure enough of his own attraction not to doubt her acquiescence.

Merlyn smiled as she answered him.

'Mad dogs and Englishmen…' Merlyn thought
irritably. Only she was a woman, and it wasn't the 'midday sun' she had
ventured out in but torrential rain. Nevertheless, the maxim seemed to
apply.

Christopher had encouraged her to take this trip with a
glowing description of the beauty of the Lake District, assuring her
that even if her visit to Brandon Carmichael proved unsuccessful then
at least she would have had an enjoyable break from the hectic pace her
life had been lived at the last year while she had been appearing on
stage.

Since leaving Manchester Airport in her hire-car over an
hour ago, the rain hadn't stopped falling, and she was beginning to
realise why it was called the 'Lake' District; lakes seemed to be
forming everywhere, especially on the roads, several drivers having
pulled off the road altogether as the driving conditions became more
and more difficult.

The wettest English summer for years, the weathermen had
cheerfully informed them. As if anyone needed telling
that—summer this year having consisted of one week in early
April!

Merlyn knew why she was feeling so irritable, and it had
nothing to do with the weather. When she had decided on this month off
between jobs it had seemed like a good idea but, after years of working
constantly, the inactivity had gotten to her after only three days. The
flat only took one day to clean thoroughly, another day to restock her
freezer, and then another day to sit about with absolutely nothing to
do. She ruefully acknowledged that Christopher had seen her
restlessness and taken advantage of it.

That wasn't quite true, she accepted. She had still wanted
the part of Suzie, and it had taken hardly any encouragement on
Christopher's part to persuade her to make this trip to see Brandon
Carmichael.

Anne Benton had been all for it, too. Although the two
women had never met, Anne busy with the hotel she and her husband ran,
Merlyn had spoken to her on the telephone, feeling an instant rapport
with the warm-voiced woman. She had jumped at the chance of being a
guest at the hotel when Anne suggested it, her brother-in-law living
only a few miles away.

But Merlyn hadn't expected the delay in her flight because
of fog, or the torrential rain that had greeted her when she went
outside to get in her hire-car. It had been so bad when she first set
out, the windscreen wipers proving ineffective, that she had
contemplated staying in Manchester overnight and continuing her journey
in the morning when, she hoped, the weather would have cleared
somewhat. A telephone call to Anne had assured her that they had only a
light drizzle falling up there, and so she had decided to make the
drive after all. Unfortunately, the heavy rain had followed her all the
way up!

Lake Windermere, as she drove past, was no more than
fog-enshrouded greyness, the small town of Windermere itself deserted,
the day-boats that were usually for hire, from the signs Merlyn saw up,
had long-since closed down for the day. Who would have believed it
could be August!

Anne's instructions for the location of the hotel had been
explicit, but she hadn't allowed for the fact that Merlyn was used to
driving in London, and that when told to take the first turning on the
right she did exactly that, regardless of the fact that what had begun
as a road soon tapered off as someone's driveway!

After twice getting soaked when she had to run to the
house to ask for fresh instructions, the second time splattering the
owner of the house with mud from his own driveway when she got stuck
turning around and he had to push her out, she was near to deciding
that the Lake District didn't like her and she didn't like it!

And then she saw it, The Forresters, the wooden sign
beside the wrought-iron gates clearly discernible through the rain. She
decided then and there to mention to Anne that her hotel would look
infinitely more welcoming if the gates were left standing open, getting
wet a third time when she ran out into the rain to correct the omission.

All of eight feet high, the gates groaned and creaked as
she swung them back, the sneeze she gave as she hurriedly climbed back
inside the car boding ill for the next few days. Maybe a nice long soak
in the bath would rid her of the chill that was even now making her
teeth rattle.

She drove through the gateway, slowing down after doing
so, looking reluctantly in her driving-mirror. The rain seemed to be
coming down heavier than ever, and the thought of going out into it
again didn't appeal to her one bit but, on the other hand, a little
voice at the back of her head kept saying something about the 'country
code' and 'always shutting gates after you'. A town girl born and bred,
she must have read it somewhere, because in all of her twenty-six years
the only time she had spent in the countryside had been when she was
working in some provincial theatre, and then she hadn't had time to
explore her surroundings. But that voice kept nagging, and besides, she
couldn't get any wetter than she already was.

Water dripped down her neck and into her eyes as she
turned back to the car, but for the first time she had a clear view of
the hotel that stood at the end of the driveway. It only needed Edward
Rochester to come thundering up behind her and the whole scene could
have stepped straight out of
Jane Eyre
!

The shiver Merlyn gave as she once again climbed into the
car wasn't completely one of damp and cold, and she chided herself for
her imagination. It had been that imagination that had influenced her
into seeking success in a career that her two doctor parents and lawyer
brother had been scandalised about. Her mother still explained the
insanity by telling people her daughter had received a concussion as a
child!

Her poor mother had never recovered from the shock of
finding herself pregnant again at thirty-seven, after deciding at the
birth of her son eight years earlier that she wanted no more children,
and had taken the necessary steps to ensure that. The interruption to
the career she had entered only three years earlier, while she gave
birth to Merlyn, had been a brief one—Merlyn, and Richard to
a degree, cared for by a full-time nanny.

Nanny Sylvia had been kind, but she hadn't been their own
mother, and the experience had left Merlyn with a desire to fill her
own house with children if she married, and it wouldn't be the sort of
house her parents had either, elegant but lacking warmth; she wanted a
real home. Not that she was any closer to finding the man she wanted to
share that with. After seeing Christopher for only a week, she knew he
wasn't that man; she had known that after only a few minutes in his
company. A wife and family would definitely not fit in with his
lifestyle.

Still, he was fun to be with, and he really did want her
to play Suzie Forrester. All she had to do was convince Brandon
Carmichael into agreeing to it. All? Hah!

'Hotel and country club' Anne had described The Forest,
and although there wasn't much sign of the country club at the moment
the hotel looked to be very comfortable. Anne and Suzie had come from a
wealthy family, and this had obviously once been the family home.

The service could use a little improving, though, the
front door remaining firmly closed, no one outside to open her car door
for her or to take in the luggage either, as there would have been at a
London hotel. Well, she didn't mind opening her own door—she
had done it enough already today for one more time not to count!
—but someone would have to take in the large suitcase and
vanity case she had in the boot of the car; she refused to get soaked
again while she grappled with them.

She pressed on the car horn, looking expectantly at the
huge oak doors at the side of her. The doors remained closed. Obviously
they weren't expecting any guests in this downpour, but even
so—! She hooted again, keeping her hand pressed down on it.
It was an act guaranteed to make her unpopular, but she was feeling too
cold and miserable to care.

Her hand faltered slightly as one of the doors swung open.
She heard the crash as it hit the wall with force even with the doors
and windows to her car closed and the sound of the rain falling. She
had long since ceased pressing on the horn.

Her eyes widened with apprehension as a giant of a man
filled the doorway, and she had the fleeting impression of immense
power—and anger—before he strode out into the rain
as if it were no more than a light drizzle falling. Merlyn caught only
a glimpse of overlong black hair, an equally unkempt black beard, and
the fiercest silver eyes she had ever seen, before he disappeared
behind her car. She turned anxiously in her seat to see where he had
gone, almost falling out on to the driveway as her door was suddenly
wrenched open.

'Have you ever heard of just ringing the doorbell like
other people do?' the man exploded. 'I happened to be on the telephone
when you arrived. What do you—?'

Merlyn barely registered what he was saying, let alone the
fact that he had broken off the tirade so suddenly. Their gazes were
locked, green merging into silver, and where once there had been a damp
chill to her body there was now a quivering heat that she had never
known before. She couldn't even see the man's face properly beneath the
beard and the overlong hair being whipped about his features by the
fierce wind. She had always preferred slender elegance in a man to the
muscles she could see beneath the thick black sweater and fitted cords
he wore, and yet as she gazed—drowned!—in those
silvery depths, she knew this man could have carried her into the house
and up to his bedroom without a word of protest from her.

As she gazed into his eyes, Merlyn knew that she wanted
him. Now!

The man seemed to shake off the spell that had been
weaving about them, anger darkening his eyes. 'What the hell do you
think you're doing?' he rasped harshly.

She still wanted him. Unless she was becoming feverish
already from the numerous soakings she had received today! His next
words seemed to say she had to be.

'If you prefer to just sit there looking like a drowned
cat than answer me then you can damn well do so!' He slammed the car
door back in her face.

'No—please!' He had reached the front door by
the time Merlyn had managed to open her door and scramble out of the
car to talk to him. He stood on the step looking back at her, oblivious
of the rain streaming on his hair, over his face and body. Maybe if you
lived with this weather long enough it did that to you!
'I—Could you take my luggage inside—please?' she
added hopefully, feeling as if she had walked on to the set of Fawlty
Towers and encountered John Cleese in his classic role as Basil Fawlty!

A dark scowl settled over those curiously light-coloured
eyes. 'Do I look like a porter?' he scorned.

Merlyn chewed on her bottom lip. He was like no other
porter she had ever met, possessed too much arrogance and authority for
the—Oh no, this wasn't Anne's husband, James, was it? If it
was she had committed a double gaffe, that of assuming he was one of
his own porters, and of finding herself attracted to a married man, her
own hostess's husband.

'Well?' He arched mockingly arrogant brows at her lack of
response to his question.

Merlyn moistened her lips. 'Er—I'm sorry if I
made a mistake about your position here. I—'

'I would say that's the second mistake you've made in the
last few minutes,' he derided, his teeth gleaming very white against
the darkness of his beard as he grinned at her discomfort.

Merlyn was so bemused by the unexpectedness of that grin
that for a moment she was too mesmerised by the change it made in his
appearance—his eyes a warm grey, deep grooves etched into the
leanness of his cheeks—to realise exactly what he had said.
But once she did realise, her gaze became wary. Had she shown so
clearly the impact he had had on her? If she had she would never be
able to look Anne Benton in the eye when they were introduced.

'Oh?' she queried with a casualness she was far from
feeling.

'You're looking for The Forest hotel, right?' he drawled,
arms folded confidently across the power of his chest, his stance
challenging.

She frowned. 'Yes…'

'Well, you didn't find it,' he seemed to take great
pleasure in informing her.

'Oh, but—' The sky seemed to open up at that
moment, blinding Merlyn in its deluge so that she gave a start of
surprise as lean fingers closed about her arm.