Merlyn's Magic (28 page)

Merlyn blinked as she recognised the blurred black and
white photograph on the front page as being her. It was one of the
photographs from her portfolio, very glamorous, making her look twice
as attractive as she really was with the strategic lighting in the
studio. The lurid headline read 'Actress almost perishes in mystery
fire!'

She took the newspaper out of Christopher's hand to slowly
read the story beneath the headline. Her expression was rueful as she
looked up at Christopher. 'The film doesn't come out of it too badly
publicity-wise either, does it?' she derided.

He shrugged. 'It's going to be a fantastic film,' he said
immodestly.

She picked up the second newspaper, and then the third.
She seemed to have made the headlines in all of them. 'So,' she sat
back against the pillows, 'is this "dramatic" enough for you,
Christopher?' She challenged the claim he had once made about the
ending of the film not being dramatic enough for him.

He flushed angrily. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

She shrugged. 'Well, the public's interest in the film has
been piqued now.'

'So?' He was very tense.

Her mouth twisted. 'So you no longer need your "dramatic
end". Accident-prone-Annie's giving you all the publicity you need.'

Christopher stood up. 'I hope you aren't implying I
deliberately arranged those accidents to achieve that?'

Of course she wasn't, she was just so tense about Rand's
lack of concern for her that she had hit out at the first person she
could, unfortunately it had to be Christopher. She could see how much
she had angered him. 'Of course not,' she sighed. 'I only—'

'You only
think
it!' he cried
furiously. 'The police believe the maid left a smouldering cigarette in
your bin by accident when she came in to turn down your bed. Do you
think I arranged that, too?'

'Christopher—'

'That's a hell of an accusation to make, Merlyn.' His
hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes deeply blue in
his pale face.

'Mr Drake!' Merlyn's shocked mother stood in the doorway
observing them both. 'That is no way to talk to a sick woman.' Her
indignation filled the room. 'You shouldn't be in here at
all—'

'Don't worry,' he bit out icily. 'I'm going.' He shot
Merlyn a narrow-eyed glance. 'I think your daughter is suffering from a
delayed case of shock; she's certainly having hallucinations!' He
stormed from the room.

'Well!' Her mother's stunned gaze followed his retreating
back. 'What was all that about?'

Merlyn closed her eyes, wishing she could shut out the
whole world. She had insulted and enraged Christopher because of her
hurt and anger towards Rand; she wondered if he would ever forgive her
for the things she had said—and the things she
hadn't
said.

'Merlyn?' her mother prompted gently as her daughter's
eyes remained closed, muttering about unauthorised visitors as she
assumed Merlyn had fallen into an exhausted sleep, removing the 'messy'
newspapers from the coverlet before quietly arranging the roses into a
vase.

Merlyn had known she couldn't keep up the pretence of
sleep all afternoon and evening, but she managed to do so until her
mother insisted on 'waking her up' to have her tea.

'You must keep up your fluid intake, darling,' she scolded.

Merlyn was feeling too disheartened to fight her mother's
more wilful character, even more so after persuading her mother to let
her use the telephone to call the hotel and Christopher, only to be
told he wasn't there! She needed to talk to him, to apologise, to make
him understand it hadn't been him she was angry with at all. She would
have to live with her recriminations until he could be found.

Her mother stayed and had dinner with her, no one daring
to tell the autocratic woman it wasn't the customary thing to do.
Merlyn could perhaps have found the situation amusing if she hadn't
felt so miserable.

'I think you have the wrong room—'

'No—no, I have the right room.'

Merlyn's lids flew wide open at the sound of that husky
voice, turning her face towards the doorway where her mother was trying
to see Rand out. He was looking past her mother straight at her, the
silver eyes darkened with pain as the burns on her legs were still
vividly visible.

She had been lying in a semi-asleep state as her mother
read her articles from a magazine she had brought in with her, the
sudden harsh tone of her voice telling Merlyn they were no longer
alone. But she hadn't expected the intruder to be Rand.

She put up a self-conscious hand to her hair, aware that
it had been singed shorter in places, although Sheila had come in and
styled it so that this wasn't too noticeable. But her face was
completely bare of make-up, and her legs were bared and unsightly. She
looked a mess.

She drank in the sight of Rand with a thirst that was
unquenchable. He looked tired, lines around his eyes, the dark suit and
white shirt he wore slightly creased. But it was so
good
just to look at him!

'I think you're mistaken, young man,' her mother began
again in a patronising tone. 'Merlyn is not receiving visitors just
yet, and—'

Cold grey eyes the colour of the Irish sea in a storm
levelled on her with silencing arrogance. 'I have made no mistake,
madam,' he bit out with icy disdain. 'And I think Merlyn will see me.'

'It isn't a question of what Merlyn wants,' her mother
attempted to bluster as she realised this man wasn't as impressed by
her air of command as most other people were. 'Her doctors and
I—'

'Mummy,
it's all right,' Merlyn assured her huskily, her gaze still fixed on
Rand. 'Really it is.'

Some of the tension seemed to leave Rand's body, the
arrogance fading a little too as he looked at her mother with new eyes.
'I hope I haven't sounded disrespectful, Mrs Summers.' His voice had
softened cajolingly. 'It's just that I only learnt this evening of
Merlyn's accident and my concern for her made me forget my manners. I'm
Brandon Carmichael.' He held out his hand in a gesture of friendship.

Her mother seemed dazed by this sudden change in him, so
much so that she didn't even correct him about the way he addressed her
as Mrs rather than Dr as she would have done most other people who had
dared to make that mistake. 'Angela Summers,' she returned abruptly.

He held her hand in a firm grip before releasing it. 'I
should have instantly realised who you were; the likeness between you
and Merlyn is unmistakable.'

She gave an acknowledging inclination of her head. 'As my
daughter is very beautiful I'll take that as a compliment.'

'Please do,' he invited gruffly. 'It was meant as one.'

She did something then that she probably hadn't done for
years; she blushed. Thank you. But I really must insist that Merlyn is
not up to visitors, especially this time of night,' she added
reprovingly. 'You should have—'

'Please, Mummy.' Merlyn's gaze hadn't left Rand's face
even for a moment, her interest quickening as he told her mother he had
known nothing about her accident until today. It seemed impossible to
believe—but oh, how she wanted to believe it! The fact that
he was here now filled her with hope. 'Rand and I are—old
friends,' she explained softly.

Auburn brows rose over hazel eyes. 'I see,' her mother
said slowly, looking at Rand with new eyes too now before picking up
her jacket from the back of the chair she had been sitting in. 'Well,
he's certainly an improvement on Mark Hillier,' she announced haughtily
before nodding coolly to Rand and kissing Merlyn goodbye. 'See you
tomorrow, darling.'

For a moment after her departure Rand continued to stand
just outside the room, then he gave a rueful shrug. 'She isn't quite
what I was expecting.' He stood beside the bed now. 'She was like an
eagle protecting her young!'

'I've been surprised by her behaviour the last few days
too,' Merlyn nodded. 'Maybe I've always misjudged her or maybe she's
just mellowed. Whatever the reason, we seem to be friends for a change.
Did you mean it?' She probed abruptly.

Rand's expression was suddenly wary. 'What?'

'About not knowing I was in hospital.' Merlyn's breathing
was shallow as she waited for his answer.

'I only read about it in the newspaper tonight,' he
replied without hesitation.

'But—'

'When I left you that night I did intend going to London
and staying there,' he declared heavily. 'But once I got there I
couldn't settle, and so I got on a plane the next morning. To the
States.'

'But Anne must have—'

'She had no idea where I was,' he sighed heavily. 'I just
went. I didn't tell her or anyone else where I was going. I needed time
to think, without interruptions. But it didn't solve anything, and when
I got into the airport earlier the first thing I saw was your
photograph on the front page of the newspapers!' His expression was
grim. 'I went straight to see Anne when I got back, and apparently she
hadn't told you she couldn't reach me because she didn't want to worry
you.' He shook his head. 'You must have thought me a callous bastard
not to have even come and seen you!'

'Not callous—'

'Then a bastard,' he declared. 'My God, Merlyn,' he grated
harshly. 'I didn't know what to think when they said you had been
seriously burnt.'

'Well, as you can see,' she dismissed lightly, warmed by
his genuine concern, 'the newspapers exaggerated—as usual.'

His darkened gaze moved slowly down the length of her
exposed legs. 'I don't think they exaggerated at all,' he rasped. 'And
if James hadn't found you when he did…!'

'Please!' Merlyn shuddered as he spoke of the realisation
she herself had made, and that had haunted her, ever since she regained
consciousness.

'I'm sorry for reminding you of it,' he groaned, sitting
on the edge of her bed to clasp her hands.

'You're the third person to do that today, and it's
against the rules,' she mocked, a catch in her voice.

'What is?' He tilted his head enquiringly.

'Sitting on the bed,' she told him huskily, very conscious
of her hand in his, of the roughened palms and gentle fingers. 'Liza
and Christopher both did it earlier when they visited,'

He raised dark brows. 'Together?'

'Briefly,' she nodded, her eyes becoming shadowed as she
remembered how she had upset Christopher. 'They managed to sneak in
while my mother was having her lunch,' she added lightly.

Rand released her hand to stand up abruptly and move away
from her. 'She is pretty formidable.'

'Yes.' Merlyn watched him anxiously, sensing he had more
on his mind than the fire that had burnt her.

He turned suddenly, his expression bleak. 'I think it's
only fair that I tell you now that my time away changed nothing; I
still believe I have nothing to give you!'

What little hope she had nurtured because of his visit
tonight died a sad death. She had hoped, just because he
had
come to her— But they had been lovers, and he was gentleman
enough to acknowledge that relationship by a courtesy visit to make
sure she was all right after her ordeal.

'One thing did become apparent, though,' he revealed. 'I
think—I
know
I owe you more of an
explanation than the one I gave you the other night.'

She swallowed hard. 'Still being in love with your wife
isn't enough?'

'No,' he bit out. 'You said that you love me,
and—I owe you the whole truth so that you'll hate me as much
as I hate myself.' He put his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket
to take out a small blue book. 'It's the last notebook Suzie wrote,' he
grated, a nerve pulsing in his cheek. 'The one I
didn't
give to Anne,' he clarified. 'I want you to take it, and I want you to
read it.'

Her eyes widened as he held it out to her. 'I couldn't do
that, it's too personal.' She shook her head, her hands remaining
clasped in front of her.

'I want you to,' he nodded, dropping the book down on to
the bed. 'Then you'll know everything and you won't love me any more.'

She looked down at the small blue book warily, wondering
what it could possibly contain that could turn her feelings for Rand
around completely. Details of his infidelity, perhaps? If that were
what Suzie believed she had been wrong, Rand had told her he was always
faithful to his wife, and she believed him. There was
nothing
that Suzie could have written that would make her stop loving Rand.

'It doesn't matter what's in this book, Rand.' She sat
forward earnestly. 'Can't you understand that it isn't important?'

'Oh, it's important,' he breathed heavily. 'And if I could
tell you myself and know that you hate me I would, but I—' He
ran a shaking hand across his brow. 'I have trouble living with it; I
can't actually put into words the horror of what I did!'

Merlyn gave a pained frown at his self-hatred. 'Does Anne
know?'

He drew in a rasping breath. 'Some of it,' he revealed
gruffly. 'But not all.'

'But she doesn't hate you.' She shook her head. 'She loves
you too.'

'I told you, she doesn't know it all,' he sighed, his
hands thrust into his pockets. 'Suzie's gone, and I can't have you, but
I need some people that care in my life. Read the book, Merlyn, and
send it back to me when you've finished it. I can assure you, you won't
want to see me again yourself.' The last was added bitterly.

Merlyn couldn't imagine anything she was told or read
making that true. 'Rand—'

'Do you think Hillier had anything to do with the fire?'
he cut in abruptly, the subject of the notebook closed as far as he was
concerned; she
would
read it.

'Mark?' she echoed dazedly, momentarily thrown off balance.

'Anne said the fire was contained to one suite.' His eyes
were narrowed. 'Yours.'