Merlyn's Magic (5 page)

This time Merlyn was ready for the directness of his
questioning, meeting that narrowed gaze steadily as she answered him.
'No.'

Dark brows rose. 'You're a little cagey, aren't you?' he
taunted softly.

'No more so than you, surely?' she challenged with cool
confidence.

Rand's mouth tightened. 'I'm not in the habit of relating
my life-story to complete strangers!' he rasped.

'Neither am I,' Merlyn returned softly. 'Besides,' she
added as she sensed he was about to demand that she tell him exactly
what she did in London, 'as you've already guessed, I'm here for a
break. And when I get away like this I like to forget all about my
work.'

'You're making your profession sound very mysterious.' He
sipped at the coffee she had poured him, watching her over the cup's
rim.

Merlyn's movements were deliberately controlled. 'I didn't
mean to,' she dismissed coolly.

'It isn't the oldest profession for women, is it?' Rand
taunted, deliberately provoking her.

She suspected that women had been acting in one way or
another since the beginning of time, that they were only now allowed to
show they were as capable as men, but she realised that wasn't the
'profession' he referred to. 'Women wouldn't need to provide that
service if men didn't want it,' she snapped waspishly. 'It's a question
of supply and demand!'

Rand eyed her angry expression with amusement. 'You speak
as if from personal experience.'

Her eyes flashed like emeralds. 'I'm twenty-six years old,
Mr Carmichael, and I've met my share of—'

'You know my name.' His eyes were narrowed on her
suspiciously.

She instantly realised her mistake, although years of
training kept her expression bland. 'Anne mentioned that her neighbour
had to be her brother-in-law,
Brandon
Carmichael.'

He didn't look convinced. 'You didn't know who I was
before you came up here?'

She arched auburn brows. 'Who are you, Mr Carmichael?' she
mocked.

Surprise widened his eyes, and then his mouth quirked
self-derisively. 'I think I deserved that!'

'I think so, too,' Merlyn nodded, relieved the danger
seemed to have passed.

He ran an impatient hand through his hair. 'It's just that
since this damned film on Suzie has been announced I've had several
reporters trying to find out who I'm sleeping with now!'

Merlyn had received her own share of bad press over the
years, although nothing as personal as that. She would have felt as
angry as he obviously was, would probably have felt as resentful
towards the film and everyone connected with it, too.

'You aren't a reporter, are you?' he grated as she seemed
to pale a little.

'No,' she laughed gratefully.

'I hope not,' he scowled. 'Because rain or no rain you
would be thrown out in it right now if I even suspected—'

'I'm not a reporter, Rand,' she repeated firmly. 'But I
did realise who you were before Anne told me, although looking as you
do now I had trouble recognising you.'

'Looking as I do now?' he challenged.

She shrugged. 'The long hair and beard; they went out of
fashion years ago.'

'And when they were in fashion I was too damned busy
trying to make my fortune to be able to indulge myself in such
frivolity!' He stood up. 'But as long as you aren't some damned
snooping reporter—'

'I can assure you I'm not,' she said coolly.

'Then I don't give a damn what work you do,' he frowned.
'Or even if you work at all!'

He was being insulting again, and Merlyn couldn't help but
smile. 'Are there still such things as "kept" women?' she taunted.

Rand looked at her coldly. 'I'm not impressed by women's
so-called independence from men,' he replied heatedly.

Merlyn frowned at his vehemence. 'I don't believe I was
trying to impress you,' she snapped. 'Some of us don't have any choice
but
to be independent!'

'And how you all love it,' he jeered.

She shook her head. 'I don't think I know you well enough
to discuss this rationally—'

'We aren't likely to get to know each other any better
than this,' he bit out.

'Perhaps that's as well.' Merlyn glared at him defiantly.

'Perhaps it is.' Rand's nod was abrupt. 'Now if you'll
excuse me,' he added scornfully, 'I have some work to attend to in my
study.'

Merlyn felt the tension slowly ease from her body once he
had left, aware that confrontation about her profession had only just
been avoided, although at what cost. Rand had been married to a woman
already well-established in her career long before they met, and yet he
seemed to resent women having careers. Had their marriage not been as
happy as all the stories about them had indicated? No, she couldn't
believe that. A man could resent some aspect of a woman's life and
still love her. She was sure Rand had loved Suzie. Just as she was sure that any 'work' Rand had to attend to
in his study would include a bottle of brandy. A man didn't drown his
sorrows in alcohol if he hadn't loved the woman he had lost.

Merlyn would have felt a little better about the
precariousness of her own position here if she could have talked to
Anne again on the telephone at least, but the line was still dead when
she lifted the receiver to check. Probably the other woman was as
worried about the situation here as Merlyn was!

Having now met Brandon Carmichael, she was surprised that
the other woman had had the courage to put her sister's life-story on
to paper when Suzie's husband was obviously still so bitter and upset
at his loss. She knew it had to be because of Anne's affection for him
that the two of them had somehow managed to remain friends, that Rand
hadn't cut the other woman from his life for what she had done. Merlyn
had a feeling she was going to like Anne Benton very much, knew she had
to be a very special lady for Rand to have accepted her book about
Suzie.

Anne's book had more or less covered her sister's life
from the time she was born, her childhood here, her first love affair,
her determination to become an actress against family opposition
—something Merlyn could sympathise with— her
success in that profession, her marriage to Brandon Carmichael. She had
spared Rand nothing in the telling of the latter, had written of his
feelings of inadequacy against his wife's obviously wealthy background
when his childhood had been spent in an orphanage, his wealth fought
for with a ruthlessness that swept many weaker men behind him. That he
loved Suzie before everything else in his life had been obvious, as had
Suzie's love for him. They had been the golden couple, extremely happy
together, Suzie's illness and the battle she had fought to overcome it
almost killing Rand too.

It was a battle Merlyn wasn't sure he had yet managed to
win.

She envied Suzie Forrester for having known a love like
that, had given up any idea of finding such a love herself after the
disillusionment of loving unwisely, her dream of having a husband and a
houseful of children becoming exactly that. Against her will she was
becoming as much of a career-woman as her mother was.

On that depressing thought she took herself up to bed.

It was a strange house, a strange bed, the rain sounding
very threatening against the window of her bedroom, and she wasn't sure
of her host's frame of mind either, but after the long and tiring day
she had had, Merlyn fell asleep almost as soon as her head sank into
the downy softness of the pillow.

She woke up just as suddenly!

She had heard a loud crash, instantly fearing that it had
something to do with the storm still raging outside. Perhaps one of the
towering pine trees that surrounded three sides of the house had come
crashing down on top of it; the wind howling against the window sounded
gale-force. She had to go and make sure Rand was all right!

His bedroom door still stood open, the room empty,
although the tangle of bedclothes showed that Rand had occupied the bed
at least part of the night even if he weren't there now. Maybe he had
gone downstairs to investigate the sound of that crashing noise?

She heard another crash, the sound of broken glass
accompanying it, and it was coming from downstairs. God, the house was
being crushed beneath those monstrous trees! As she rushed down the
stairs to find Rand, she became aware of a strange sound coming from
the direction of the lounge, like an animal whimpering in pain. She
hadn't realised Rand possessed a cat or dog, maybe—

Her hand froze in the action of switching on the light as
she realised those mournful groans weren't coming from an animal at
all, that it was Rand making those muffled sobbing sounds as he knelt
in all his naked glory in front of the fire still burning in the
hearth, his face buried in his hands. On the carpet in front of him lay
a broken picture frame, only 'Darling, I—' left of the
inscription on the half-burned photograph of Suzie Forrester, that and
the smile that had to be just for Rand.

Merlyn didn't know whether to go or stay, knew that she
was intruding on this man's personal grief. The smashed frame and burnt
photograph couldn't have been an accident, not when that same
photograph had been standing on Rand's bedside table earlier. He had to
have brought it downstairs with him.

Then she saw what had caused the first sound of crashing
glass, a brandy bottle lying in several pieces in the hearth, and from
the lack of brandy with it she guessed the bottle had been empty before
it was thrown. But why had Rand got himself so drunk that in his rage
he had destroyed the photograph of his wife? Whatever his reason, she
knew he would deeply resent her intrusion, and she was turning to leave
when she realised that the heart-breaking sobbing had stopped. Her
lashes slowly raised as she looked up to find that silver gaze fixed on
her.

A sob caught in her own throat for the ravages this man's
grief had made on his face, his eyes dull with his private pain, tears
still dampening the soft dark lashes, lines etched into his face, a
face white with emotion.

A shudder racked his body as she looked at him.
'Rand…?' She half ran to him, and then stopped, not knowing
what he wanted her to do.
She
wanted to go to
him, put her arms around him, and comfort him in any way that he would
let her.

As he slowly stood up, the magnificence of his body bathed
in the glow of firelight, she knew there was only one way she
could
comfort him tonight, that mere words alone wouldn't be enough.

She walked farther into the room, stopping a short
distance from Rand, her hands shaking slightly as they moved up to slip
the straps of her nightgown from her shoulders, pushing the material
down over her breasts, the nipples already taut and inviting, the silky
garment becoming a splash of black at her feet as it slid down over her
hips to the carpeted floor. She stepped over it and into Rand's arms.

If
anything the anguish on Rand's face had deepened by the time Merlyn
raised her face from pressing feather-light kisses across his chest,
and she pulled away hesitantly.

'No,' he groaned, holding her close. 'I want your magic
tonight, Merlyn. I
need
it!'

She could feel the trembling of his body beneath her hands
as they rested lightly on his shoulders, could feel the fierce hardness
of his desire pressing against her stomach, trembling a little herself
as she sensed the force of that desire should it be unleashed.

'You came to me in the midst of a storm, Merlyn.' He swung
her up into his arms against his chest with little effort. 'Like a
temptress stepping into my darkness.' He placed her gently on the
carpeted floor, away from the shattered glass, but close enough for
them to feel the fire's flames against their nakedness. 'I want to burn
in your fire for just a short while.' He buried his face against the
brightness of her hair. 'Warm me, Merlyn. Make me feel you!'

The wanting she had experienced when she first met him
hadn't lessened, and yet as she smoothed the tousled hair back from his
brow and opened her mouth to his, it was compassion that warmed her.
She wanted to ease his pain, even if it meant experiencing pain of her
own.

Their mouths moved moistly together, learning, seeking,
possessing
,
the fierce thrusts of Rand's tongue giving her a pleasure she had never
dreamt of. Rand had forgotten his living nightmare now as he lost
himself to the magic of her body, caressing and knowing every inch of
her, one of his hands protectively cupping the downy softness that
shielded her womanhood. At the same time his head moved down her body
until his mouth closed moistly over the turgid peak of one nipple.

Merlyn arched her back pleadingly as his mouth released
her to trail moistly down the curve of her breast, gasping her ecstasy
as he claimed the other pouting nipple.

Every inch of her trembled with need and, although he had
been the one to plead with her, he was now the master, had become the
conqueror without receiving the smallest resistance.

But Merlyn needed to touch him too, her hands sliding down
the dampness of his back to his buttocks, her nails scraping lightly
across his taut skin, feeling the quiver of his flesh beneath her
caresses, knowing how to please him instinctively.

She moved determinedly, the aggressor now as Rand lay
beneath her, controlling his entry as she moved on top of him, feeling
the hard swell of him slowly move inside her, hoping he would put this
delay down to an effort on her part to prolong his pleasure. His head
was thrown back, his jaw clenched as she lifted herself up before
lowering herself for a second time.

'Now, Merlyn,' he gasped his need. 'Don't play any more,
take all of me!'

She was trying to. God, she was trying to! But she had
never been with a man before tonight!