Merlyn's Magic (4 page)

'The ford is on the private road to this house,' Rand told
her. 'There is no other way out. You're stuck here until the river goes
down again.'

She winced at his obvious displeasure as the realisation
of her enforced stay struck him too. 'And how long will that take?'

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'If the rain stops soon,
probably tomorrow.'

Merlyn turned to look out of one of the long windows at
the steadily pouring rain; it didn't look like it was
ever
going to stop!

'Oh, it will,' Rand assured her in an amused voice as she
unwittingly spoke her dismay aloud. 'Some time,' he added mockingly,
the expression in his eyes one of challenge.

She inwardly groaned her despair. Her feelings for this
man had been bewildering enough before she knew who he was. Now that
she knew he was the still-grieving widower of Suzie Forrester, they
were absolutely ridiculous. And she only had to look at him to feel her
temperature rise and her senses quiver into life in a way she had never
known before.

'You can use the bedroom you used earlier, opposite mine,'
he added softly, as if guessing her response to him was the reason for
her dismay.

And why shouldn't he have realised how he affected her,
her behaviour earlier had been rather obvious! 'That's very kind of
you—'

'Kindness doesn't have a damned thing to do with it,' he
rasped. 'I don't have a choice.'

Neither did she, by the sound of it. And she couldn't
blame him for resenting her intrusion either, he didn't come over as
the sort of man who enjoyed having to be polite to a woman who had been
stupid enough to get herself lost the way that she had.

'I'll telephone Anne,' she said quickly.

'Do that,' he nodded tersely, standing up to restlessly
pace the room.

Merlyn watched him as she dialled the hotel number. He was
prowling about like a caged lion, as if impatient with the confines
even this large house offered. Continuous rain often had that effect on
her too, and yet she sensed there was more to it than that where Rand
was concerned; he and Suzie had shared this house all of their married
life, so he must be used to the weather here after all these years.

She was prevented further speculation about him as she was
put through the switchboard to Anne Benton. 'It's Merlyn,' she
explained, looking questioningly at Rand as she heard his snort of
disbelief as he heard her name.

'Thank God.' Anne's relief at hearing from her distracted
her attention back from Rand. 'I've been so worried about you; we
expected you hours ago.'

'Yes. Well, I—I got lost.' She avoided Rand's
mocking gaze at this understatement. 'A—a neighbour of yours
has kindly offered me a bed for the night,' she added awkwardly.

'A neighbour? But we don't have—Brandon?' Anne
realised suddenly. 'Are you with Brandon?'

'He says his name is Rand,' she confirmed with a
casualness she was far from feeling, relieved the other woman had
guessed who the neighbour was and she didn't have to go into the
details of her stupidity in front of this broodingly quiet man.

'Oh dear,' Anne groaned.

'Yes,' she agreed wholeheartedly.

'What a mess,' the other woman muttered.

That had to be even more of an understatement than the one
Merlyn had made seconds ago; it was a catastrophe! From what Anne had
told her, and what she had read herself about Brandon Carmichael, he
was never going to believe she hadn't planned this whole thing, right
down to the rain!

'The ford is flooded, right?' Anne guessed heavily.

Merlyn glanced at Rand as he crossed the room to pour
himself a glass of brandy. 'I'm afraid so,' she answered the other
woman.

'Does Brandon—know, about you?' The grimace
could be heard in Anne's voice.

'Not yet,' she sighed, wishing she could be long gone from
here before he did.

Anne drew in a ragged breath. 'Do you want me to tell him?'

'God, no!' she protested; she had to spend the rest of the
evening and the long night in the same house with this man!

'No, probably not,' Anne conceded ruefully. 'You'll come up to the hotel and see us before travelling
back to London?'

There was no point in either of them pretending there was
any reason to go through with the visit now, and Merlyn was grateful
for the other woman's understanding. 'Yes,' she agreed heavily.' I'll
do that.'

'Does Brandon want to talk to me?' the other woman
prompted with obvious reluctance.

Merlyn glanced across at him as he grimly swallowed down
the contents of his glass. 'Rand?' She held out the receiver to him
questioningly, shrugging as he shook his head. 'He —he's busy
at the moment,' she excused his rudeness to his sister-in-law.

'I'll bet,' Anne said knowingly. 'Merlyn, go easy with him
today. It's—' The line went dead.

'Anne? Anne!' she questioned worriedly, shaking the
receiver, as if it were its fault that the call had been terminated so
abruptly.

'The lines have gone down,' Rand informed her without
concern, confirming her worst suspicions. 'I'm surprised it didn't
happen before now in this weather,' he told her in a calm voice.

She was completely alone, cut off here, with a man who
would have reason to hate her if he realised who she was! Although her
name hadn't elicited the response she had been dreading, only a mocking
scepticism. Christopher had said Rand turned down every actress he
proposed. Maybe, by the time they got to her, the fourth in line, they
hadn't even got as far as the relating-her-name stage!

'Merlyn?' Rand looked at her scornfully.

She frowned, putting down the telephone receiver now that
it was no longer of any use to her, running her hands nervously down
her denim-clad thighs as she felt their damp palms. 'Yes?'

'No, I meant—Merlyn?' He sceptically repeated
her name.

The flush to her cheeks came from anger this time. 'That
is my name, yes,' she challenged.

His mouth twisted, his eyes cold. 'And can you do magic?'
he jeered.

'I don't know,' she answered. 'I've never tried!'

He gave a bitter laugh. 'There's no such thing as magic,'
he dismissed in a hard voice. 'How on earth did you get a name like
that?' he derided harshly.

'After the birth of my brother, my mother had herself
sterilised,' Merlyn told him quietly. 'She was more than surprised to
find herself pregnant again eight years later.'

'Magic!' acknowledged Rand hardly.

'Considering my parents rarely saw each other enough to
make love, it was all the more of a shock,' Merlyn nodded. 'My father
was the one sent for an operation this time.'

He gave a harsh laugh. 'Poor bastard!'

She shrugged. 'I don't think he was all that thrilled to
find himself a father again at forty-six, either!'

Rand turned away. 'Would you like a drink?' he bit out,
pouring himself another one while he waited for her answer.

'The coffee will be fine—'

'It will be cold by now,' he dismissed.

'I'll make some more,' she offered, picking up the tray. The
way he was knocking back the brandy he was going to be needing a lot of
black coffee soon! Unless this was how he spent his days
now—she knew that he left the running of his considerable
businesses to a number of assistants.

'Could you manage to "conjure" up some dinner for both of
us?' he prompted. 'The only household staff I have come up from the
village each day,' he explained abruptly. 'And I gave them all the day
off.'

Considering the weather, that had been a very wise
decision; Rand might have ended up with a
houseful
of unwanted guests instead of just one! As far as Merlyn was concerned,
that might not have been a bad thing. 'I'll see what I can find,' she
nodded. Food might help to counteract the alcohol he had been
consuming, too.

It was a delightful kitchen, obviously belonging to a time
long-gone, with its huge open fireplace, copper pots and saucepans
hanging from hooks along its ledge. But Merlyn quickly discovered that
although the charm and character had been maintained in the room it was
also filled with every modern convenience, from a dishwasher to an
electric knife.

The freezer was stocked with already prepared meals that
just had to be defrosted in the microwave and then heated in the oven,
and Merlyn mentally thanked the absent cook as she placed the beef
casserole in the oven to warm through, making the mixture for dumplings
before dropping them into the already warming meal, its aroma
mouthwatering.

The kitchen at her flat was adequate, but it was nothing
like the luxury of this one, and Merlyn was humming softly to herself
as she put an apple pie in the oven with the beef. The humming stopped
abruptly as she straightened, her face flushed from the heat of the
oven, to find Rand Carmichael leaning against the wall just inside the
kitchen, watching her every movement.

'As I haven't seen you since you brought up the fresh
coffee almost an hour ago, I thought perhaps you had made your escape
out the back door while you had the chance,' he drawled.

Merlyn frowned a little as he made it sound as if she were
a prisoner here, although considering the state of the roads and the
broken telephone lines perhaps that was what she was! 'That would have
been ungrateful of me,' she dismissed, with an effort at her usual
confidence, although just knowing who he was made that difficult, if
not impossible.

'But perhaps wise.' He straightened. 'I was near to being
drunk.'

'Was?' She frowned at the past tense; he had seemed pretty
far gone to her.

He gave a mocking inclination of his head at her
bluntness. 'I drank a couple of cups of black coffee and then took a
shower. I can assure you I am now completely sober.'

That he had taken a shower was obvious by his still-damp
hair, although even now it was drying back into those riotously dark
curls. But the reckless glint had gone from his eyes, the anger from
his expression, and in its place had come a weary look, almost of
defeat.

'I hope you like what I've chosen for dinner,' she said
lightly, some of her tension dissipating now that she was sure she
didn't have a drunken host to contend with; she had a feeling this man
could be dangerous enough, without that. 'There's a beef casserole,
with baked potatoes, and apple pie—'

'I'm sure it will be fine,' he dismissed as a man not much
interested in the food he ate, ingesting it only through necessity.

'Yes.' She eyed him frowningly. 'Well, if you would like
to wait in the lounge—'

'I wouldn't,' he cut in softly.

Merlyn was filled with a new wariness now as she sensed
the speculation in his gaze as it moved slowly over her body, the hair
on her nape seeming to stand on end as a ripple of awareness flowed
down her spine, her nipples suddenly taut against the softness of her
jumper.

'Come here,' Rand suddenly instructed throatily, his
stance one of challenge.

Her gaze flew to the hardness of his face. 'What?' she
said breathlessly.

His brows rose slightly at her obvious nervousness. 'I
said come here,' he repeated slowly, his gaze lowering pointedly to the
hard thrust of her nipples beneath the clinging wool.

She felt like a puppet having her strings pulled as she
crossed the room to stand in front of him, her eyes a dark stormy green
as she stared up at him, her breath caught in her throat as she waited
for the master to dictate what her next move should be.

Rand returned her look with narrowed eyes, the slight rise
and fall of his chest indicating the shallowness of his breathing. The
bell of the timer on the microwave broke the spell, anger flaring in
Rand's eyes—white hot fury turning them from grey to
platinum. 'You have flour on your nose,' he declared harshly, turning
away.

Her hand rose shakily to wipe away the flour. The gesture
was mechanical as she was still watching Rand as he strode forcefully
from the room, knowing he had brought her to him for quite a different
reason, a reason that he had instantly regretted once he realised what
he was doing.

If there had been any women in his life since his wife's
death then no one but he—and they— knew about it.
Before his marriage to Suzie Forrester he had often been mentioned in
the gossip columns, had been a highly eligible bachelor, with numerous
women in his life. During his marriage to Suzie, his actions had been
just as newsworthy, but since her death he might as well have
disappeared, never going to London, and certainly not involved in any
of the social whirl he and Suzie had seemed to enjoy so much during
their marriage.

But a few seconds ago there had been a physical hunger in
his eyes—for Merlyn.

He was drinking brandy again when she brought the
casserole up to the dining-room, although he joined her in a glass of
wine with their meal, and he didn't go back to the brandy after they
had eaten.

'So,' he sat across the room from her, 'you can do magic
after all.'

'What?' She blinked up at him, startled by the comment.

'The meal you "conjured" up was very nice,' Rand's voice
was mocking.

She moistened her lips, relaxing slightly. 'Thank you, but
your cook did most of the work, I just defrosted.'

'You're from London.' It was a statement, not a question.

Merlyn instantly realised it was a mistake to ever relax
around this man. 'Yes,' she confirmed warily.

'Decided to get away from the rat-race for a few days,
hm?' His scornful tone told her exactly what he thought now of London
and the social life there.

'I decided I'd like a change of scenery, yes,' she
answered dryly. 'I could have stayed there and had weather better than
this.'

'Touché.' His mouth quirked as he glanced out of the
window where the rain could still be seen and heard. 'Are you in
business in London?' The sharpness in those silver eyes belied his
relaxed state as he lounged in the armchair.