Merlyn's Magic (9 page)

Not that they were close enough for her to expect him to
come rushing up here to her side anyway. Although Anne seemed to have
formed a different opinion, acting as if she were sure Christopher were
the love of Merlyn's life, insisting on helping her wash and dry her
hair and adding a little make-up to her pale face, and getting out a
silky black nightgown for her to put on beneath her robe. The nightgown
wiped all the amusement at her new friend's antics from Merlyn's face;
it was the one she had worn the night she went to Rand.

Christopher did little to allay the impression of intimacy
between them when he arrived just after lunch, presenting her with
roses and chocolates before kissing her lingeringly on the lips. Merlyn
didn't need the dusting of blusher Anne had insisted on as colour
flooded her cheeks.

'Nice to see you again, Mrs Benton,' he greeted the other
woman warmly, his arm still about Merlyn's shoulders as he sat on the
side of her chair.

Anne returned his smile. 'I'll leave the two of you alone.
Please join James and me for afternoon tea once Merlyn has settled down
for her nap,' she invited Christopher.

'She has the makings of a drill-sergeant,' Merlyn said
dryly once the other woman had left. 'Do you know that she had me
drinking hot milk this morning?' she added disgustedly as Christopher
chuckled. 'To build up my strength, she said. It's all I can usually do
to take the stuff in tea and coffee!'

Christopher grinned at her discomfort. 'Did you drink it?'

'Anne may give the impression of being a cuddly blonde,'
Merlyn muttered, 'but underneath that warm exterior beats a heart of
pure ice!'

'You drank it,' laughed Christopher softly.

Merlyn gave him a disgruntled look. 'She stood over me
until I did! But she wouldn't have succeeded if she hadn't caught me at
a time when I'm feeling too weak to fight her,' she defended irritably.
'And what about you just now?' She frowned at him. 'You don't usually
kiss me hello like that.'

'I didn't like to disillusion the cute but domineering Mrs
Benton,' he said ruefully. 'When she telephoned and told me you were
ill and I said I'd come up as soon as I could get away she assumed we
were lovers, and I didn't like to disappoint her.'

'You mean she bullied you into acting out of character
too,' Merlyn said with satisfaction.

'Well…'

'And you were too frightened of her to tell her your only
interest in seeing me was to find out if I had managed to talk to her
brother-in-law and persuade him into letting me star in your film!' she
accused.

Christopher arched dark blond brows. 'You know damn well
that isn't my only interest in you,' he drawled. 'You just won't let me
pursue my other one!'

During their brief acquaintance, his efforts to persuade
her into his bed had been made with an arrogant lack of subtlety that
told her he usually found little resistance to his physical interest in
a woman. And yet it was all done with such good humour, Christopher not
at all offended when she refused him, that she realised plenty of women
would probably find that very indifference a challenge worth pursuing.
Unfortunately —for Christopher!—she wasn't one of
those women. But she couldn't help liking him, and she thought that
liking was returned. Even if Christopher was surprised to find himself
just a friend rather than a lover.

'So how did you get on with Carmichael?' He stood looking
down at her, his hands thrust into the pockets of his fitted trousers,
his careless treatment of them straining the expensive material.

Christopher was everything Merlyn usually found attractive
in a man, good-looking, undemanding, with that intrinsic streak of
ambition that made him such a power to be reckoned with. Why couldn't
he have been the man she had wanted so mindlessly? At least with him
his emotions were all up-front, and he would never have hurt her so
deliberately the way Rand had.

'I'm sure Anne must have told you about my blunder,' she
began.

'About thinking his house was the hotel.' Christopher
nodded. 'I thought it was a good idea.'

Her eyes blazed wide with anger. 'I did not do it
deliberately,' she bit out forcefully. 'It was raining, I was lost, and
I didn't—'

'Oh, come on, Merlyn,' Christopher scoffed. 'Carmichael
may have believed that, but we both know—'

'Rand Carmichael didn't believe anything of the sort.'
Merlyn stood up shakily. 'And
we
don't know
anything of the sort either,' she snapped, glaring up at him. 'Can't
you see that by making that mistake I ruined any chance I may have had
of talking to him rationally and calmly?'

Christopher looked at her consideringly. 'That depends,'
he said slowly.

'On what? You—Christopher?' she questioned
sharply. 'You don't seriously think I went through with your
preposterous suggestion that I go to bed with him to get his approval?'

'I never once made that suggestion—'

'You implied it,' she flared.

'If I implied it you didn't say no to the idea either!' he
accused heatedly.

Merlyn's hands were clenched at her sides. 'It was too
contemptuous an idea to even merit an answer! You got off lightly at
the time, Christopher,' she told him scathingly. 'The last man to
suggest that to me ended up with an eye so discoloured it ruined his
pretty looks for several weeks!'

His expression sharpened with interest. 'You mean you hit
him?'

'Yes!'

'Do tell,' he invited softly.

Merlyn gave him a disparaging look. 'I make it a rule
never to think about snakes and rats and other nasty things that go
bump in the night.'

Christopher whistled through his teeth at her vehemence.
'Whew, am I glad we only got as far as managing to be friends.'

Her mouth twisted. 'You came dangerously close today to
ending even that,' she warned.

He sighed. 'I'm only trying to establish what happened
between you and Carmichael. You're the one who's being evasive.'

'Because nothing happened,' she snapped. 'Nothing at all.'

'And the film?'

'Now what was it he said to me about that?' She pretended
to try and recall the words that had been burned into her heart. 'His
last words to me were "Get out. And tell Drake not to send any more of
his mistresses up here for my consideration or I might not be
responsible for my actions!" That might not be word perfect, but it
conveys what he wanted to say!' She didn't add that he had also said he
had pretended she was Suzie while he made love to her.

'Arrogant bastard,' Christopher cursed with a scowl of
anger.

Yes, Rand was arrogant, even more so than the man who
stood before her, but if the two of them weren't adversaries in this
matter they were so much alike they would probably have become friends.

'Now you know,' she shrugged.

'And what am I supposed to do about the film now?'
Christopher frowned heavily. 'We're supposed to start work on it in
three weeks, damn it!'

'Without a leading lady, unfortunately,' she drawled.

His eyes flashed with anger. 'I can't do that; "Suzie" is
in nearly every damn scene!'

She knew that only too well, also knew that despite her
personal dislike of Brandon Carmichael she would still have liked to
have played the part of his wife in the film.

'Maybe if I went and talked to Carmichael—'

'I wouldn't if I were you,' Merlyn advised. 'He gave me
the impression he would enjoy beating you to a pulp for even daring to
suggest making the film in the first place!'

'This is ridiculous! You—'

'Merlyn, you shouldn't be walking about,' a scandalised
Anne scolded her as she barged unannounced into the room. 'You only got
out of bed this morning,' she fussed as she manoeuvred Merlyn into the
bedroom. 'She's been very ill, Mr Drake.' She turned to include
Christopher in her censure.

'It was my fault, Anne,' Merlyn tried to explain as she
was firmly pushed down on the bed, her slippers removed and the covers
pulled up to her chin before she could protest. 'Christopher and I were
just—'

'It's time for your rest,' Anne cut in dismissively, her
tone brooking no argument.

Merlyn grimaced at Christopher over the top of the
bedclothes. 'I told you, I'm sure she was in the army in another life!'

Anne blushed prettily at the rebuke. 'The doctor said you
weren't to overdo things to start with,' she reminded Merlyn of the
instructions the kindly man had given her this morning when he called
as he had every other morning since she had become ill.

'I don't think he meant you to take him quite this
literally.' Merlyn struggled to sit up as the other woman tucked the
bedclothes in so tightly she could barely move.

'I think I'll go and join your husband for that afternoon
tea,' Christopher put in hastily at Anne's mutinous expression, making
good his escape before her wrath fell on him.

'Coward!' Merlyn glared at the door as he closed it behind
him.

'He's very handsome, isn't he?' Anne remarked casually as
she stood watch over Merlyn as she drank down the fresh lemonade she
had brought in for her.

'Says the woman married to the handsomest man for three
counties!' Merlyn smiled.

Anne blushed again. 'James is gorgeous…'

'Even if he does have a sergeant-major for a wife!' She
eyed the other woman mockingly.

Anne giggled. 'I'm getting into practice for when the
children come along!'

'Are they imminent?' Merlyn asked with interest.

'Not too imminent,' answered Anne mischievously. 'To tell
you the truth, we're having too much fun!'

Merlyn chuckled too. 'Still at the rehearsal stage, hm?'
she teased.

'Oh no,' Anne denied, a satisfied curve to her full lips.
'We prefer to think of it as practising; we already have the act
perfected!'

Merlyn watched the other woman as she pulled the curtains
closed in preparation for her taking a nap, envying Anne her wonderful
husband and happy marriage. She had only shared the sensual closeness
she could see in Anne's glowing eyes once in her life, and the man
hadn't shared that closeness with
her
.

For all that she had protested at being put to bed in that
peremptory way, she sank back weakly against the pillows once Anne had
left the darkened room, the effort of getting up to greet Christopher
having tired her more than she had expected or realised. Her eyes
fluttered closed within seconds of her relaxing.

She was having the most wonderful dream, that warm ache
once more making her limbs feel like jelly, just wanting to stay like
that as she felt the moistness of that mouth moving over her body.

'Rand…?' she groaned, unable to wake from the
deep sleep to see if this were dream or reality.

'I'm here, Merlyn,' a soft voice soothed. 'Give to me!'

Even now those knowledgeable lips were tugging on the
aching hardness of her nipple, its twin being caressed in the same way
with the gentle flick of a thumb-pad.

Her breathing became ragged as those lips moved down the
flat contours of her stomach, teeth nibbling at the inside of her
thighs before closing with erotic intent on the seductive core of her
womanhood.

Tension filled her body as she felt the first flick of
that tongue, the movement becoming a rhythm that made her writhe and
gasp while remaining a prisoner to the onslaught.

She moaned her protest as that mouth left her, her moan
turning to a ragged gasp as a knowing hand took over that rhythm at the
same time as that mouth tormented her nipple.

The double attack on her senses made her strain into that
hand, wanting more, wanting— Her gossamer moistness closed
readily about the maleness that entered her, her back arching to match
the fierceness of the thrusts.

She could feel the excitement building within her, could
feel her release was imminent, felt herself filled with liquid warmth
as the sun, the moon and the stars all exploded together inside her
body, the sound of harsh breathing mingling with her own as that mouth
finally left its caressing of her breast.

Her body felt cold at the removal of those lips, shivering
as her thighs knew the same chill before the warm blankets once again
became her cover. She reached out for the heat that was being denied
her, only to feel it elude her before it slipped completely
away…

Merlyn trembled as she awoke, never having known the
eroticism of such a dream before, knew that her body had become a slave
to that fulfilment even while she slept.

Colour warmed her cheeks, her breathing shallow as she
acknowledged that. Even if the dreams had been a result of a return of
the fever they had still been so very real. How Rand would laugh if he
knew the hunger he had awakened in her! And how he would mock her if he
knew it had been Rand himself she had imagined making love to her.

If
she had imagined it. It had seemed
so real…

Anne had left the door to Merlyn's room unlocked since she
had become ill, so that she didn't need to disturb her every time she
came in, she had said. Suppose someone, some unknown someone had come
into her room while she slept and made love to her until she responded?
Which had taken all of two seconds!

But who could it have been? Christopher? She didn't think
so—he had so many willing women in his life he would have no
need to make love to a sleeping woman. Then Rand? That idea was even
more unlikely!

But it had
felt
like Rand. She had
responded to
Rand
. She had
called
him Rand.

No, it couldn't have been. The man who made love to her
had been a gentle lover, intent only on arousing her until she attained
release. Rand certainly hadn't given the impression of those gentle
feelings towards her the last time they spoke together. But if it
hadn't been a dream—although she was fervently beginning to hope it
had
been—and there really had been a
man, then he had made love to her; no one in their right mind could
ever call it rape.