Merlyn's Magic (13 page)

Rand! Oh my God, what would Rand say when he saw this
change in her?

'Merlyn?' Sheila once again frowned her concern at the
younger woman's lack of response.

Of course she was Merlyn. And Rand had to have realised a
certain amount would be done to make her as much like his wife as
possible. He would have to accept the changes in her.

But could she? She studiously avoided looking at her
reflection while verbally praising Sheila on the success of the
colouring and styling, needing time to adjust to seeing a stranger in
the mirror.

'Maybe I was wrong about your hair after all.'

She had thought she had made it to the sanctuary of her
room without being seen by anyone she knew, the key to her door already
in her hand as she stopped in the corridor to turn and face Mark. 'I
take it that was meant as a compliment?' she scorned.

He sauntered over to join her, fully dressed now in denims
and a loose-knit shirt, while Merlyn still wore her bikini beneath her
robe. 'What else?' His gaze moved lazily over the resentment on her
face. 'You're so provocative when you're angry,' he murmured with
appreciation.

She pushed his hands away as he would have put them on her
shoulders and drawn her close to him. 'And your line in seduction is as
hackneyed as it was six years ago!'

His mouth quirked with lazy amusement. 'You didn't find it
hackneyed then.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't think I'd ever gone to bed with you?'
she scoffed, knowing that she had implied there had been so many men
since then that if they had been to bed together his lovemaking hadn't
been outstanding enough to have made a lasting impression on her.

His eyes narrowed at the slight. 'That could soon be
remedied.'

'I don't think so!' She looked at him with dislike,
warding off his hands again as he would have reached for her, wondering
what she had ever seen in his overbearing manner all those years ago.
But then he had been getting more than the walk-on parts that she had,
had seemed experienced and successful, and she had been flattered by
his persistence in wanting to take her out. Now she could see him for
the callous opportunist that he was.

Mark shrugged ruefully. 'Feeling pretty confident of
yourself because you're keeping the director's bed warm, aren't you?'
he taunted softly.

Her eyes flashed. 'I didn't do that for you and I've never
had to do it for myself!' she spat out. 'Fortunately, some of us can
get by on our talent alone!'

'Everyone knows that you and Drake have been sleeping
together for weeks—'

'I don't give a damn what everyone
thinks
they know,' she snapped. 'Christopher and I know it isn't true, and
that's all that matters.' Except Rand, she didn't want Rand to hear
those rumours and possibly believe them. Not when he already thought it
was the truth anyway!

'No, it isn't,' Mark said slowly, threateningly. 'I've
never forgotten what you did to me six years ago—'

'What
I
did to
you
?'
she repeated disbelievingly. 'Don't you have that the wrong way round?'

'You lost me my big chance,' he grated.

'
You
lost you your big chance,' she
scorned heatedly. 'Because you aren't good enough to get by on your
acting alone, because—' Her words were cut off as his mouth
savagely took hers.

Merlyn fought him with all the strength she possessed, and
still it wasn't enough as he crudely pulled her hips into his, her
hands trapped against his chest as the movements of his thighs against
hers matched the slippery invasion of his tongue to her mouth. She felt
herself gag at the penetration of that tongue, anger replaced by
blackness as she sensed she was on the verge of collapse. And still
that tongue raped her, deeper and deeper—

'What the hell is going on here?' Christopher demanded
incredulously.

Merlyn was released so abruptly she swayed unsteadily on
her feet, her face completely devoid of colour as she breathed deeply
to stop herself from fainting.

'Merlyn!' Christopher realised that it was her now that he
could see her face.

'The two of us were just—renewing our
acquaintance,' Mark drawled insolently.

'He's lying.' Merlyn looked at him with loathing, turning
beseechingly to Christopher. 'He forced himself on me. He sickens me!'
she added on a choke.

Christopher shot the other man a searching glance, a nerve
pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw before he turned back to Merlyn.
'Are you all right?' he questioned softly.

Her eyes widened. 'Didn't you hear what I just said, he
forced himself on me!'

'Get lost, will you, Hillier,' he instructed the other man
impatiently, going to Merlyn's side. 'And don't come near her again if
you know what's good for you.'

'I didn't realise I would be stepping on anyone's toes,'
Mark shrugged, looking at Merlyn challengingly.

'Well now you know,' Christopher replied, his hand in the
small of Merlyn's back as he guided her to her room, taking the key
from her shaking hand to open the door and follow her inside, watching
her with angry eyes as she got herself a glass of water. 'Having an
affair with your co-star is not something I like on my films.' His
voice was cold.

Her eyes widened indignantly, and she choked on the water
she had been swallowing as it got lodged in her throat. 'Christopher, I
just told you he forced himself on me,' she gasped when she could get
her breath back enough to speak.

He shrugged. 'You didn't look as if you were fighting too
much to me.'

'Because he's a foot taller than me and weighs twice as
much as I do!' she shouted.

'Calm down,' Christopher said softly. 'There's no need to
get excited.'

'I don't want to calm down,' she told him agitatedly.
'Mark Hillier makes my skin crawl—'

'I'm sorry if I misjudged the situation between the two of
you.' Christopher held her in his arms until the stiff indignation left
her body. 'I don't think you realise how desirable you are.' He lightly
kissed her hair and then down her cheek, his body tensing with desire.

Merlyn pulled away from him as he would have claimed her
mouth. 'Really, Christopher,' she snapped. 'I've just had to fight off
the attentions of one man I don't want!'

For a moment his eyes remained glazed with passion, and
then he was smiling. 'Twice in one day would be too much, hm?' he said
ruefully.

'Twice too much,' she agreed with a grimace; she had to
give him credit, he
did
keep trying.

He nodded. 'I'll try and keep Hillier away from you in
future. Maybe Liza will attract his interest—'

'I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy— and Liza
happens to be one of my best friends!'

'Oh well, I'll see if I can find something else to keep
him busy. In the meantime, have dinner with me tonight—' He
broke off as her telephone began to ring. 'You had better get that.' He
turned away to look out of the window at the overcast day, his hands in
his trouser pockets.

'Merlyn.' Anne sounded relieved to speak to her. 'I've
been trying to find you all afternoon. I forgot to invite you over for
dinner this evening in the excitement of being called away so suddenly.'

Merlyn glanced at Christopher's profile as he stared out
of the window, sure that he wasn't seeing the view at all but was lost
in some inner thought about the film. 'Actually, I was just about to
accept Christopher's invitation for tonight—'

'Bring him along,' Anne said instantly. 'You have to come,
Merlyn,' she persuaded as Merlyn hesitated. 'James and I have invited a
few close friends over for the evening, and I count you as one of them.'

'Thank you,' she accepted huskily. 'I— Will Rand
be there?' The thought suddenly occurred to her.

'I've invited him.' The grimace could be heard in Anne's
voice. 'Only he knows whether or not he'll be here. Oh, please come,
Merlyn.'

Merlyn laughed softly. 'I'll just ask Christopher.' She
put her hand over the mouthpiece as she turned to look at him. 'The
Bentons would like us to go over for dinner.'

'Why not?' he shrugged. 'We should try and keep our host
and hostess happy.'

She smiled ruefully at his cynicism before answering Anne.
'We should love to come.' She pulled a face at Christopher as he raised
his brows at her enthusiasm. 'There is just one thing…'
There was a pause.

'Yes?' Anne sounded worried.

'Well, you see, I've—I've had to have certain
—changes, made to my appearance for the film,' she said in a rush. 'Not very big changes, but—I
had my hair coloured brown this afternoon.'

For a moment there was silence, and then Anne gave a
tremulous sigh. 'I'm glad you told me. Does Brandon— Has he
seen you yet?'

'No.' Merlyn chewed on her inner lip, knowing it was his
reaction to her appearance that she feared the most.

'If he does turn up tonight I'll try and forewarn him,'
Anne told her practically. 'You know, I'm beginning to wish I'd never
written the book
or
agreed to the film,' she
sighed. 'It seems to be causing nothing but trouble. But I was so proud
of the way Suzie battled with cancer and won that I wanted the whole
world to know about it too.'

'You should be proud,' Merlyn assured her. 'And so should
Rand.'

'Proud of what?' Christopher questioned once she had rung
off after arranging for the two of them to be at the Bentons' by eight
o'clock.

'The way her sister fought against her illness,' she
shrugged.

He nodded. 'It's a great story—'

'It isn't just a story, Christopher,' protested Merlyn.
'It happened to a real person!'

'I know that,' he accepted tersely. 'And as far as it goes
it will make a good film. But I've been trying to do a little rewriting
to the end; it isn't dramatic enough.'

Merlyn stared at him incredulously. 'A woman overcoming an
illness that was diagnosed as terminal and then dying in a car crash
isn't dramatic enough for you?'

Merlyn
was still smarting at his insensitivity as she prepared for their
dinner engagement that evening. God,
insensitive
didn't even begin to describe his callous attitude. She had known from
the moment she met him that Christopher's work and the success of the
finished production meant everything to him, but to dismiss the
real-life tragedy of Suzie Forrester's death as 'not dramatic enough'
seemed inhuman to her. The man was a machine, a total machine, and
nothing must interfere with his making the best film that he could.

She had told him all of that earlier and he had
shruggingly agreed.

Inhuman was too light a description too, she had ranted at
him, and he had only laughed.

Grudgingly she had had to accept that Christopher couldn't
help the way he was, that his near-genius prevented him from seeing the
Suzie Forrester story as any more than another vehicle for his talent.
She didn't like it, but she had to accept it.

She couldn't see Suzie that objectively herself, had lived
every moment of Suzie's pain as she read Anne's book, had shared the
family's utter despair when the police came to tell them that Suzie's
car had gone off the road, killing her instantly as it struck a tree,
her beautiful neck broken. How could Christopher say that cruelty of
real life wasn't dramatic enough for him!

'Still angry with me?' he grimaced at her stony expression
as they walked together to the Bentons' house nestled among the trees.

'No,' she answered shortly.

'You are,' he drawled, his arm moving easily about her
shoulders. 'I was only speaking from a director's point of view
earlier.'

Her eyes flashed as she glared at him. 'I realise that,'
she bit out.

'And you didn't like it,' he acknowledged. 'Let's just
forget I said it, okay?'

'And how are we supposed to do that?' The heels of her
sandals clicked angrily against the tarmacked road as she walked.

'Well… I could tell you how beautiful you look
tonight, and you could—'

'Tell you that a redhead's wardrobe is vastly
different from that of a brunette's,' she complained. 'And that although black is usually my
favourite colour in clothes, it doesn't suit me at all
now!' She hadn't realised how attached she was
to the red hair that had been the bane of her
childhood until it was no longer there. She
liked
being a redhead. ,

Christopher whistled softly. 'You are in a mood, aren't
you,' he taunted.

'Yes!'

It wasn't all Christopher's fault that she was so
irritable—although he was responsible for most of it. But she
was also nervous about this dinner party tonight, was dreading the fact
that Rand might be there too. Just appearing as his wife's look-alike
wasn't the way she would have approached this given the choice.

'I see what you mean.' Anne's eyes widened incredulously
as she looked Merlyn up and down. 'It's quite remarkable,' she frowned.

'I think the hair in the front is still a little long,
but—'

'Christopher!' Merlyn bit out warningly.

'What?' He frowned his puzzlement, his brow suddenly
clearing as he realised to whom he had been talking with such
professional detachment. 'Not too much of a shock for you, I hope,
Anne.' He infused friendly warmth into his voice.

If they hadn't suddenly become the centre of attention as
people became aware of their presence Merlyn would have kicked him,
brilliant director or not. But the half a dozen other guests in the
lounge were openly staring at them now, and she knew it had to be
because of her appearance. Her eyes widened apprehensively as the dark
haired man stepped from the window alcove into the light.
Rand…

Everyone seemed to be waiting for his reaction to this
phenomenon before showing some of their own, every person's breathing
in the room coming to a hushed stop as he moved towards Merlyn. Except
Christopher, of course, who viewed the scene with clinical interest.