Superstar (35 page)

Before
Carrin could reply, well-wishers swamped them. Men pumped Mark's
hand and thumped him on the back; women took the opportunity to
kiss him. Some kissed Carrin too, but far less enthusiastically.
The men congratulated her warmly, and the people she knew emerged
from the blur of strangers. Warren gave her a hug and a kiss.
Harold shook her hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes twinkling
as he muttered, "It's about bloody time."

Olivia kissed
her on both cheeks and said, "So, you came to your senses at
last."

The rest of
the evening passed in a blur. Champagne flowed afresh, and Simon
got as drunk as a lord, toasting them almost continuously. Once he
leant close to her and slurred, "Bet you never thought you'd land a
big fish like him, eh?"

Even though
Simon tried to pour copious amounts of champagne down his throat,
Mark remained fairly sober. He stayed close to her, shielding her
from curious well-wishers who tried to ask personal questions. Many
women shot her envious glances, but Mark kept her on the dance
floor most of the time, and they shared many more wonderful,
passionate kisses under the dim lights. Simon tried to empty a
bottle of champagne over them, telling them to cool off. Mark saw
him coming and whisked her aside, and Simon drenched an elderly
couple behind them instead.

In the end, a
group of friends threw the blond superstar in the pool. By then,
most of the better-behaved people had gone, leaving a rowdy bunch
of youngsters. Mark suggested that they leave, and she was happy
to. They left Simon in the pool, playfully trying to drown the
friends he had dragged in with him.

There were
still a few limousines parked outside, but Mark led her to the
black Lotus Esprit.

"I don't like
to keep John waiting all night in the parking lot," he explained,
and gestured to some chauffeurs who were playing dice and looking
extremely bored. "Even though they get something to eat and drink,
it's not much fun for them."

Carrin slid
into the low-slung car, and Mark eased in beside her. She wondered
if he would take her to his house, but to her relief and
disappointment, he drove to her hotel. He pulled up and turned to
her with a smile.

"I'll see you
tomorrow at around ten. We've got a busy day."

Numbly she
nodded, feeling tired and drained, now that the effect of the
champagne was starting to wear off. He leant over and kissed her as
the doorman opened her door. She watched the sleek black car drive
away, then went up to her room. It all seemed like a dream, and she
wondered what would happen when she woke up in the morning.

Chapter
Fifteen

A gentle
knocking on her door woke Carrin. She groaned and looked at the
clock. It was eight in the morning. Why was someone knocking on her
door? The happy haze of champagne had turned into a dull throbbing
in her temples, and she was feeling distinctly under the weather.
Pulling on her robe, she went to the door and opened it a crack,
peering out. A bellhop stood there, grinning. He held an enormous
vase of deep red roses.

"Morning
miss."

Carrin opened
the door, discovering that behind him was another bellhop carrying
two vases, and behind that one another. Carrin leant on the wall
and watched in amazement as an apparently endless procession of
bellhops came in carrying roses, set them down on the tables of the
lounge and left. Soon the living room was full, and they started on
the bedroom. Her mind boggled. Never had she seen so many roses.
Soon most of the furniture had disappeared under them. When at last
the flood of flowers ceased, the last bellhop handed her a note on
his way out. It said simply, 'Good morning. Love Mark.'

Carrin sat on
the bed and stared at the flowers. There were at least a hundred
dozen roses in the hotel suite. It was wonderful, but crazy. She
showered and dressed, took an Aspirin for her headache and had a
light breakfast. By that time, it was ten o'clock, and a knock on
her door startled her again.

Carrin opened
it to find Mark standing there, looking devastating in a white silk
shirt with a cream jacket and trousers. He had not been to her
hotel, so far as she could remember, other than to drop her off or
pick her up, and had not got out of the car. He wandered in, gave
her a kiss and looked around in approval.

"Ah, I see my
order arrived."

Carrin closed
the door. "Yes, at eight o'clock this morning."

"Too early for
you?"

"A little,
since I only got to bed at about three." Realising that she sounded
churlish, she added, "But they're beautiful."

"Are you
regretting your decision, now that you're sober?"

"Somewhat."

Mark nodded.
"I thought you might, but I'm not letting you off the hook until
you've seen my proof. You made a promise, so you have to keep
it."

"And after
I've seen it, if I'm not convinced, what then?"

He shrugged.
"Then it can be annulled."

"Very
embarrassing for you."

"Very," he
agreed, picking a rose and smelling it.

"I won't go
back on my word."

Mark raised
his eyes and smiled. "Good." Digging in his pocket, he produced a
jeweller's box. Carrin knew what must be in it and stepped
back.

"You don't
have to go this far."

Mark opened
the box and held it out. On a bed of black velvet, a large white
diamond spat brilliant fire from within a sweeping circle of flame
red rubies, like the centre of a galaxy. She stared at it, a lump
forming in her throat.

"Is it
real?"

He snorted.
"No, it's a piece of glass. Of course it's real, like everything
else."

"It must be
worth a fortune."

"Is that how
you measure love?"

"No, of course
not."

"Good, because
I could have got a bigger one, but I didn't think you'd want to
drag around the Rock of Gibraltar for the rest of your life. And
you will wear it for the rest of your life, I promise."

"What are you
going to do, weld it to my finger?"

"If I can get
the damn thing on your finger."

Carrin
realised that she had her hands clasped behind her back.

Mark's dark
eyes twinkled. "Still scared?"

Resolutely she
held out her left hand, and he slipped the priceless ring on
without ceremony. "There. Now it's almost official."

"Almost?" She
studied the ring, the flashes of multi-coloured light that shot
from the stone mesmerising her.

"Yes." He
snapped the ring box shut and stuffed it back in his pocket. "I'm
afraid we still have to face the media."

"Oh, no."
Carrin looked up at him, horrified.

"Oh, yes." He
smiled. "One of the many drawbacks to marrying an actor, I'm
afraid."

"Maybe you'd
better tell me the rest now."

"And frighten
you off? No way."

"That's not
fair."

"Life's not
fair." He took her hand and headed for the door. Carrin hung back,
afraid of facing all the flashing lights and beady eyes.

"I'm not
dressed."

He stopped and
raked her with his eyes. "And I'm not blind. If you weren't
dressed, I'd have noticed."

"I mean, I
should put on something better."

"There's
nothing wrong with what you're wearing."

Carrin glanced
down at her outfit of black designer jeans and a baggy,
long-sleeved T-shirt with a design on the front. It wasn't a bad
outfit, but she had better. "I should change."

He sighed.
"Why? I think you look great. Does anyone else's opinion matter?
Other than your own, of course, but then, if you hadn't liked those
clothes, you wouldn't have bought them in the first place."

Carrin groaned
in frustration and picked up her bag, following him to the door.
"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Because I
don't want to be ambushed on the way out."

Realising what
he meant, she quickened her pace. Fortunately, no one was around.
In the lobby, the desk clerk straightened and stared, and two
bellhops watched from the stairs. They had almost made it to the
front door when a boy of about ten ran up.

"Mr Lord, can
I have your autograph?"

Mark turned
and smiled. "Sure, kid. What's your name?"

"Tommy." The
boy held out a scrap of paper.

Mark took a
gold pen from his jacket and scribbled a signature on the paper.
"There you go, Tommy."

He handed it
back to the bright-eyed boy, who clutched it and grinned. Mark
ruffled the child's blond hair, then turned and took her arm.

"Let's get out
of here."

Outside, the
limousine purred on the kerb. The doorman opened the door, and they
slid in. John grinned at Carrin in the rear-view mirror.

"Hi, Miss
York. Congratulations."

"Thanks,
John."

"I knew he'd
fall for you the first time I laid eyes on you," John averred.

"Shut up and
drive," Mark said, smiling.

Carrin giggled
as John pulled a face.

"Yes sir, your
lordship sir," he quipped.

Carrin relaxed
as the limousine whispered onto the road and picked up speed. Mark
helped himself to a drink, but she refused.

The paparazzi
had Mark's gates staked out as usual, and a crowd clamoured around
the car as they drove in. Disembarking at the front door, Mark said
to John, "Let them in."

John nodded
and drove the limousine to the garage, where she knew there was a
gate control and a connection to the remote camera and intercom.
She glanced at Mark, her nerves jangling. Her trepidation must have
showed, for he smiled and took her hand.

"They're
just a bunch of really curious people, that's all. Just smile and
say things like 'wonderful', 'ecstatic', 'soon' and 'we haven't
decided yet.' That ought to cover it."

Carrin tried
to smile, but her face was stiff and her heart raced.

Mark studied
her and shook his head. "I never saw anyone with stage fright
before."

With an
effort, she calmed herself, fiddling with the ring on her left
hand. It was a perfect fit, but it felt strange. Never had there
been a ring on that finger before. The crunch of approaching feet
and voices distracted her. The paparazzi marched up the driveway,
cameras swinging from their shoulders and microphones at the ready.
Some had video cameras. Most were men, though one or two women
softened the crowd. A few ran ahead to snap pictures. She glanced
at Mark, glad that she wore flat-heeled boots. Without her
high-heels, he was that much taller than her, and the cameras were
focused on him. He smiled that slight, famous smile, looking
relaxed. The first paparazzi to arrive started asking questions,
but he ignored them until all had gathered before him. Cameras
clicked and whirred, and photographers jostled for a better shot.
Mark held up a hand, and a dozen microphones were thrust
closer.

"I have an
announcement. Since you people have been most patiently hanging
around my gate for the past few days, or is it weeks?" They
laughed, and he continued, "I thought you should be the first to
know. Of the media, that is. Carrin York and I are engaged to be
married."

A barrage of
questions followed his announcement. "When will the wedding
be?"

"Are you
planning a big wedding?"

"How long have
you known each other?"

"How did you
meet?"

Mark answered
them, and Carrin thought that she was safe, but a woman reporter
moved closer and thrust a microphone at her.

"Miss York,
how does it feel to marry a superstar?"

Remembering
Mark's advice, she said, "Wonderful."

"You wrote
Mark's latest film, didn't you?"

Carrin nodded.
"Yes." A flash exploded in her face, and she winced, clinging to
Mark's hand.

"You've been
seen out with Simon Grey, what's your relationship with him?"

"He's a
friend."

The questions
went on and on, and she thought that they would never end. The
press seemed to have an insatiable curiosity. When the questions
started to deviate from the subject of their engagement, Mark
stepped back and raised his hand.

"Thank you,
ladies and gentlemen."

Mark turned
and entered the house, and Carrin held onto his hand as if it was a
lifeline. Cameras clicked in a final barrage, and then they were in
the sanctuary of the house. Carrin slumped, and he turned to her
with raised brows.

"That wasn't
so bad was it?"

"It was
awful."

Outside, she
could hear John shooing the reporters away, and Rita hovered
nearby, grinning. Mark turned and pushed open the study doors, and
she followed him into its book-lined tranquillity. She flopped down
in a chair, and he poured drinks, handing her one.

"Never mind,
you won't have to face them very often," he said.

"That's a
relief." She watched him settle into a chair. "What's next?"

"Well, since
we're planning on a very short engagement, the wedding."

"We are?"

He nodded. "Oh
yes, the shorter the better."

"What's the
rush?"

"Don't give me
that suspicious look, you know perfectly well."

"I want my
family to be there."

"Of course."
He stared at her incredulously. "Why on Earth wouldn't they
be?"

"They wouldn't
exactly fit in."

"I don't care
if they do a fandango in the aisle. Your brother will have to give
you away, and your sister-in-law can be your maid of honour -"

"No." She
pulled a face. "Julia would probably take great pleasure in
tripping me up or something. Olivia can be matron of honour, she
played cupid for you."

He raised his
glass in a toast. "Thank you, Olivia."