Merlyn's Magic

‘Anne knew her sister well enough to know what she was “really like”, and I've come to know her as well as I could without actually meeting her. And I know she would be disappointed in you—–'

‘Because I refuse to acknowledge the dubious virginity of a woman who gave herself to me for gain?’ he scorned viciously.

‘You didn't just bury your wife two years ago,’ Merlyn told him shakily. ‘You put your ability to care for other people in beside her!'

His mouth twisted. ‘This isn't a scene from some B-movie with some hackneyed happy-ever-after ending where the hero throws himself into the heroine's arms as he realises he's fallen in love with her! And I've heard all the lectures I need to from Anne.'

She flinched at his scorn; she hadn't expected her criticism to suddenly transform him into a man who could love again, she wasn't that naïve, but she had hoped that his cynicism wasn't so deep-rooted that he wouldn't even listen when someone was concerned about him.

‘Because she cares for you—–'

‘And what's your angle, Merlyn?’ he jeered softly. ‘Or do I really need to ask!'

It was useless trying to reason with this man, she didn't even know why she felt the compunction to try. And yet she felt as if she had let down Suzie's memory in some way by not being able to reach Rand through the barrier of his bitterness.

‘Anne's waiting,’ she said abruptly. ‘I hope you don't mind if I leave my car here until I can arrange to have it picked up. I—I hope you realise Anne knew nothing about—about the things you're accusing me of?’ She looked at him anxiously, having done enough damage without ruining his relationship with his sister-in-law too.

Grey eyes looked at her coldly. ‘Anne could never be involved in anything that sordid, I'm well aware that it was all your own idea.'

He was meaning to be insulting, and he was succeeding more effectively than he could guess. The last thing she would ever be involved in would be sleeping with anyone to get herself a role on screen or stage. And if Rand had known anything about her at all he would have realised that.

But he didn't know anything about her, as she really knew nothing of the man he was now. Two years ago he had been the loving husband of Suzie Forrester, had been her constant support as she struggled with the illness that wanted to take her away from him; God was the only one that knew what he had become in the interim. Merlyn and Rand were just two strangers who had made love, primitively, mindlessly. She had broken all of her own rules with a man who cared nothing for her, a man she had wanted in a way that was totally alien to her cautious nature, and she would just have to learn to accept that and get on with her life.

Nevertheless, she had to try one more time to explain her actions to this man. ‘I didn't plan what happened last night—–'

‘Would you just get out of here?’ he cut in disgustedly. ‘And tell your friend Drake not to send any more of the hitherto unknown actresses up here who have shared his bed to get their chance at the big-time; the next time my physical reaction might be a violent one! If it makes you feel any better,’ he added contemptuously, ‘you could probably have played Suzie; you certainly felt like her when I was inside you!'

Merlyn blanched at his cruelty as he revealed what she had feared, that he had imagined she was Suzie as he made love to her!

She turned blindly and stumbled out of the room, out of the house, her eyes swimming with unshed tears as she climbed up beside Anne in the Range Rover.

‘I put your case—Merlyn?’ Anne frowned at her worriedly. ‘My God, Brandon didn't hit you, did he?'

Not anywhere that it showed. Inside, where it mattered, she was battered and bruised, her last shreds of self-respect stripped from her with Rand's last deliberately cruel taunt.

She blinked back the tears. ‘Could we just get away from here? I—I really don't feel like talking about it right now.'

‘Of course.’ Anne still looked concerned, putting the Range Rover in gear, driving the large vehicle with a confidence born of familiarity. ‘Merlyn?’ she prompted gently once they had been driving in silence for several tension-filled moments. ‘I know Brandon can be impossible at times—–'

‘He's a cold, calculating bastard,’ she stated flatly, feeling as if he had stripped the very soul from her body.

Anne gave a ragged sigh. ‘He's that, too,’ she acknowledged heavily. ‘But he hasn't always been this way.'

‘I'm sure even he was a pleasant baby,’ Merlyn allowed, feeling numb from the heart up.

The other woman gave a rueful smile. ‘I meant a little more recently than that.'

She knew exactly what Anne meant, knew that Rand Carmichael had changed on the death of his wife. But he wasn't the only person ever to lose the one he loved in that tragic way, and it didn't give him the right to hurt her as he had, intentionally, coldly.

‘I understand all that, Anne,’ she said flatly, her eyes revealing her inner pain. ‘But it doesn't help me at the moment, maybe later …'

Anne frowned. ‘What did he do to you?'

Last night was going to be buried as far back in her memory as she could push it, never to be thought or talked about again. ‘Nothing,’ she bit out. ‘Let's just say this trip was a mistake, that I failed in what I set out to do, and leave it at that.'

‘If that's what you want,’ Anne agreed slowly. ‘But once Brandon's anger has calmed down—–'

‘I'm the one who's angry, Anne,’ she cut in forcefully. ‘And I certainly won't change my mind!’ Nothing was worth the humiliation she had suffered at Rand Carmichael's hands.

‘I'm sorry,’ the other woman said with genuine regret. ‘Still, that doesn't have to stop your staying on at the hotel with us for a few days; I'd like to get to know you after we spoke so much on the telephone.'

And Merlyn just wanted to get away from here and never think of Rand Carmichael again! But Anne had been friendly and kind to her from their first telephone conversation, and maybe if she just stayed on overnight and left in the morning it would placate the other woman.

‘Maybe I will.’ She didn't commit herself to the few days Anne had mentioned, turning to stare out of the window, making a determined effort to admire the spectacular countryside about her that hadn't been visible yesterday through the fog and the rain. High mountains dipped down into lush green valleys as far as the eye could see, and in those valleys Merlyn knew the lakes would be nestled, trees growing along their edge in abundance.

‘Here we are,’ Anne said with satisfaction as she turned the Range Rover into a narrow driveway much like the ones Merlyn had taken by accident the day before, the scent of pine from the towering trees surrounding them coming in through the partly-opened window next to Anne.

A long sprawling building much like a very large log cabin stood gracefully beside a large lake, its mellowed pine structure giving an air of warmth and beauty even before one entered.

‘It's lovely!’ Merlyn told her incredulously, seeing by the pleased expression on the other woman's face that her impulsive praise was appreciated.

‘James designed and organised the building of it all himself.’ Anne's pride in her husband's undoubted accomplishment was obvious. ‘Come inside and see the rest of it,’ she invited.

The inside was all pine too, warm and mellow, the main building housing all the entertainment, from the two restaurants, the club house, pool and sauna, to the health and beauty salon. And then at the back, not visible from the entrance, were two additional buildings, exact replicas of the main building, attached to it by two totally glass and pine constructed corridors that gave unhindered views of the surrounding mountains. These two outer buildings were the living accommodation, and Anne showed Merlyn to her room herself. The furnishing was more expensively comfortable than anything Merlyn had ever seen, from the thick brown carpets to the soft beige leather suite.

‘James says that if you're going to do something you should always do it with style!’ Anne laughed her enjoyment at Merlyn's awe-struck expression.

‘This is style with a capital S!’ She sank down on to the quilt-covered bed in the adjoining room to her lounge. ‘I can't wait to meet the man who master-minded all this.'

Anne's eyes glowed merrily. ‘Give me a few minutes to change out of these clothes and get back into my “hotel proprietor” garb and then join James and me at the pool for coffee; we usually get together there this time of day. And I know he's looking forward to meeting you, too.'

Thoughts of Rand were kept firmly at bay as Merlyn unpacked her suitcase, changing into tailored red trousers with their pleated waistline, tapering at the ankle, and a black silk blouse which tucked in at the belted waistline. She looked coolly elegant, and more confident of herself than she had felt since she left home yesterday morning with such high hopes of this visit to the Lake District.

Yesterday morning? It seemed much longer ago than that, she realised with a suppressed shudder.

She had no trouble finding her way back to the main building, the whole place geared for simplicity, including finding your way about. She was glad she had chosen to wear a blouse, instead of the jumper the weather called for, as the heat from the pool enveloped her. She seemed to have arrived before Anne, and—–

‘Looking for someone?’ an amused male voice cut in on her reverie.

She turned to face the man, feeling as if she could drown in the liquid warmth of his deep brown eyes. Dark hair brushed away from the face of one of the most handsome men Merlyn had ever seen, the white shorts and open T-shirt he wore moulded to the lean fitness of his body. The tennis-racket he carried was indicative of at least one of the ways he maintained that fitness. At any other time she might have felt interested enough to pursue the acquaintance, but not when she was still raw from her encounter with Rand.

Her smile was coolly dismissive. ‘As a matter of fact, I am,’ she nodded, her attention returning to the pool where several adults and children were cavorting in the heated water oblivious to the dismal weather outside.

‘Could I offer you a cup of coffee while you wait?’ the man suggested, indicating the coffee pot and cups that stood on the table beside them for anyone to help themselves to after their swim. Several tables were placed about the pool's side, the padded chairs around them covered in a restful green material that exactly complimented the abundance of foliage about the room.

Her smile was frosty this time. ‘No, thank you,’ she bit out with emphasis.

‘Then perhaps I could—–'