by Anne Styles
'From your description, I'll probably be the one to get hurt,' Nick said bitterly. 'Alistair Mackenzie's a pig, but he's my problem, not yours. I'm the one who's married to his daughter after all.'
'Yes, and may I remind you that he is also chairman of the company that owns the lease at Wardour Street?'
'About the only thing that bankrupt bloody company does own these days!' Nick grumbled Mackenzies had been hit badly by the downturn in the property market, but the Wardour Street property stayed in their portfolio, somehow - mostly to spite Nick, - he was sure.
'Nick, why on earth don't we try and find new premises?' Charles said. 'At least then we'd be completely free of him. It's not as-if we can't afford to move, after all.'
'Forget it, Charlie! The hassle would be enormous! Anyway, I've just spent half a million on the small studio, and the lighting console in A is held together with gaffer tape. We'll need a huge injection of cash for that soon. Where the hell would we move to, anyway?'
'Maybe we should just get smaller offices and use other people's studios for a change?' Charles suggested mildly. 'It would certainly be cheaper.'
'No! You're even beginning to sound like an accountant!' Nick slammed his fist onto the windowsill. 'I've spent ten bloody hard years building that company up and we've always had our own studios. That was my first priority. I wouldn't even consider going to a four-waller situation.'
'You do for features.'
'That's different and you know it! We couldn't shoot that many commercials at Pinewood or Shepperton - the clients would never wear it - and that is where I'd shoot a studio feature. We are keeping Wardour Street! The lease is safe for several more years and Alistair can't touch us, Charlie. I won't let him.'
'Then you'd better keep your hands off Sarah Campbell,' Charles told him, with a glearn of satisfaction. 'Or all your hard work will be for nothing. Nick. Because, secure as our lease is, old man Mackenzie would get to you somehow. For God's sake! You know how I feel about Sarah, and you still can't resist having a go for her, can you?'
'Sarah's not for you, Charles. You must know that deep down, just as you knew Natasha wasn't.'
'We had the same argument over Natasha,' Charles remembered sadly.
'Yes, and look what it did to her!' Nick went to pour another drink. 'It bloody well killed her.' 'That was just as much your fault as mine!'
'It damn well wasn't, and you know it! Don't you dare bring that up again!'
'Natasha was on her way to see you when she crashed the car!'
'After I told her not to be so stupid! You were the one who drove her into drugs, Charles! As you probably would Sarah. I won't let you ruin her, I promise you.'
'Sarah is not Natasha,' Charles snapped at him.
'No, by the time Tasha was Sarah's age she'd dabbled with every drug known to man out of boredom! She was a free spirit, Charlie, and you trapped her. Just as you'd trap Sarah.'
'Tasha chose me.' Charles slumped back on the sofa. 'You never forgave her for that - or me, come to think of it.'
'Tasha almost broke me, mentally and financially,' Nick pointed out. 'As you know perfectly well. I was well rid of her, frankly. Oh, I loved her at first, I admit that, but God, was she destructive! She almost killed .you, with that heart attack you had. I think you had a lucky escape, if you must know!'
'Don't be so snide! You'd have married her like a shot if she'd wanted it.'
'Oh, no! That was one mistake I refused to make!' Nick laughed suddenly, but there was no joy in it, and, if he was completely honest, there was not much truth in his statement. He had been head-over-heels in love with Natasha Verney, in a way he had never been since with anyone, including Diana. But the secret was something that lived deep in his heart along with the devastating pain she had caused him.
'I slept with her for a year - but marry her? I had more sense, old son, as you should over Sarah. You can't turn her into the lady of the manor and deny her the chance of stardom that she's got. It would be an appalling waste. She'd end up hating you, as Natasha did.'
'So I can't marry her because you want her to be a star? You selfish sod. Nick!'
'No, Charlie, it's what Sarah wants, and that's what counts. If she wants me then you'll have to accept that, as I accepted that Tasha wanted to marry you. But I'll make you one promise - if you did, by any chance, - persuade Sarah to marry you then I would certainly leave her alone. I never want to be in the same situation we had with Tasha.'
'I'll never let you take Sarah – never. Somehow I intend to marry her, have no fear of that! I've got all the advantages where she is concerned, and I won't hesitate to use them. I'll fight you every inch of the way.'
Nick gave a start of shock, before he pulled himself together. The old arguments were suddenly very much alive, long after he had considered them buried, and there was a new edge of hysteria in Charles's voice that was completely at odds with his calm exterior. 'Don't be so bloody naive,' he retorted. 'She's nearly twenty-five, and I can assure you she has a mind of her own. You won't persuade her to do anything she doesn't want to do, believe me!'
'I suppose that means you've tried already?' Charles was bitter, and Nick shuddered at die venom in his voice.
'No, as a matter of fact I haven't touched her - yet. But I will, I can assure you of that! Leave her alone, Charles!' Charles hurled a cushion at him in exasperation. '
Is that a challenge, then?'
'Certainly! Don't worry, Charlie,' Nick added as he moved to the door, glad to get out of the chilling atmosphere of Charles's fury. 'You won't get a chance to get near her!' Taking his drink, he went to the gun room to sit for long minutes staring at the photographs of Sarah that he still had in his briefcase. He slumped over the desk, the shooting script forgotten in his dilemma over the girl he had held so briefly. He knew he was going to break every rule he had made for himself, and the promise he'd made to Diana after the last time. It was going to create a rift between himself and the man he considered his best friend, and yet still he couldn't stop.
Sarah was an ache, a need that wouldn't go away. Despite Diana, and Charles, Nick knew he couldn't stop now.
Just the memory of her smooth young body in his arms made him twist with desire.
He drank far more that evening than he normally did, in a futile effort to sleep, but he still lay awake half the night tossing restlessly. He cursed his own weakness, telling himself it was wrong, knowing the damage he could do to Sarah herself. Just once, he told himself, I'll take her just once, then the need, and the pain, will go away.
CHAPTER 8
Sarah was awake early, and lay stretching luxuriously into wakefulness as she listened to Charles's helicopter take off and turn low over the house in the direction of London. Despite his professed poverty over his Lloyds losses, he still lived differently from anything she had ever dreamt of, she realized as she watched it swirl away in the early-morning mist.
Somehow it never occurred to her to close the curtains at Hastings Court. The heavy damask drapes looked as if they had been hanging in those folds for years, though she knew her room had only recently been redecorated.
Charles had taken her on a tour of the house not long after she had arrived that first week, and lovingly detailed the work he had done on it in the last few years, as his time and money had permitted. For a business-orientated man, she acknowledged, he had very good taste, having accomplished the design work single-handed.
It intrigued her why he had never remarried after his wife's death so many years ago. He was, after all, titled, as well as being an obviously charming man. Her brother had spoken highly of Charles when Sarah had asked George about him, and there must be dozens of girls around, she thought, who would be far more suitable and anxious to marry Charles Hastings than she was.
She was aware of Charles's admiration for her, and dismissed it. Though he and Nick were a similar age, they were light years apart in outlook. Nick seemed years younger than Charles, not just physically, or in the clot
hes he wore, but in his attitude to life in general. Nick lived in the modem world, albeit an expensive version, whereas Charles was rooted in the aristocratic style of life his parents had dictated, and he found no real reason to change it.
With Nick suddenly in her mind, she pulled a very businesslike swimsuit from her weekend bag and slipped into it. Let him try getting this off, she grinned to herself, and made her way down to the pool with a towelling robe from her bathroom over it. She had no intention of any of the crew seeing her in a compromising position with Nick if she could help it - that was if he had meant what he had said the night before. Though Nick rarely said things he didn't mean.
The pool was empty, and she paused by the windows at the end looking out dreamily over the acres of green lawns and the curve of the stone bridge over the lake. It was a peaceful moment at Hastings that she always enjoyed before the film crew shattered it with their noisy banter and revving car engines.
Nick made her jump as he joined her, on silent bare feet, sliding his arms around her waist from behind. 'Too busy dreaming to swim?' he enquired. 'Or were you waiting for me?' He had meant it, she realized, suddenly embarrassed, and wriggled away from him, throwing off her robe.
'It's not much fun racing myself,' she grinned at him, as he took in the swimsuit with a challenging smile.
'Business as usual?' He raised an eyebrow.
'Something like that. Ten lengths?'
'That's gone up!'
'You're getting into practice,' she challenged, poised to dive. 'But I'll let you kiss me if I win!' 'That's the most underhand bribe I've ever heard, young woman!'
'Take it or leave it!' Sarah dived, neatly and cleanly, a good ten feet in front of him. To her fury Nick still beat her, laughing as he did so.
'No way are you bribing me. Come here!' He grabbed her purposefully and hauled her out of the water, her wet hair streaming. He laid her on one of the loungers and proceeded to kiss her until she was breathless, leaving her in no doubt that he really had meant every word he had said the night before.
'You're insane!' she protested, when at last he allowed her some respite.
'Maybe it's the effect you have on me,' he allowed. 'Have dinner with me tonight?'
'With or without champagne?'
'Wait and see! I think I'll keep you in suspense all day.' He ducked her swinging fists with a surprising agility for a big man, and then lifted her to her feet. 'I'll do my best to be patient today, I promise, if you can manage to keep your hands to yourself!'
'You can talk!' Sarah was still laughing as she ran upstairs to get dry and throw on some clothes, before she went through to Ronnie.
'So, have we kissed and made up?' James enquired with a grin when she waltzed in.
'I guess so. But mind your own business, James,' she rebuked cheerfully.
James couldn't believe it that morning. Sarah forgot her lines, missed her marks and seemed totally disorientated, yet Nick forgave everything and let her get away with it.
'How the hell have you managed not to have him break your neck?' he demanded at lunchtime. 'You must have wasted miles of stock this morning.'
'I'm sorry, James.' Sarah giggled. 'I'm just a bit off this morning.'
'A bit! I'll strangle you if he doesn't!' James grinned. 'Get yourself together, woman. What are you doing to keep him sweet - screwing him?'
Sarah almost choked over her salad as she hastily denied it. 'I'll be all right this afternoon,' she added.
'You'd better be,' he threatened, laughing, 'or I'll take a leaf out of his book and beat you - but it'll be on the set, in front of the crew!' Somehow, with that in mind, Sarah pulled herself together, and they were back on schedule by the time they wrapped and Nick strode over to her.
'Come through to the drawing room when you've changed,' he said, quietly. 'We can have a drink in peace and we'll go out later.'
'My, aren't we civilized?' Sarah couldn't resist teasing him as he turned to go. Then she saw the swift rise of his dark brows and it made her shiver suddenly.
Half-inclined to dawdle, she went to the pool area to shower and wash her hair - to be ready for dinner, she told herself - letting Ronnie dry it and put it up for her, after slipping into the fresh jeans and halter-necked white body that Cress had brought over for her.
'Another evening with Nick?' Ronnie teased as he pushed in a final grip. 'We are getting cosy!' 'Purely business,' Sarah assured him airily. 'It beats fighting!'
'Oh, I don't know. A little rough stuff seems to have worked wonders with you, madam!' 'Leave it, Ronnie.' Sarah stood up, her tone sharp, but she regretted it as his face fell. 'I am more than capable of dealing with Nick, and I do have a perfectly adequate boyfriend - remember?' She blew him a kiss in apology, and, pushing her feet into sandals walked slowly across the yard to the house.
It was true, she did have a boyfriend. She remembered their pranks and games on the boat, but suddenly Peter seemed like a childhood memory she had left behind. Now the reality was Nick, and the new effect he was having on her previously reluctant body. She knew there was a great deal more to lovemaking than Gerard's vicious assault, but very little about how to react.
To her surprise. Nick was sitting at the grand piano that was set across the comer of the room between the windows, playing it softly. Liszt or Chopin, she wasn't sure, but he was totally involved in the music until she crossed the room to stand at the end of the piano. Smiling up at her, he paused, then reached over to hand her a glass of champagne.
'I didn't realize you played so well,' she complimented him. 'Don't stop.' She smiled back at him with recognition at this signal as she drifted around the room, sipping at the wine. Nick rippled his hands over the keys as he watched her. In her slim, figure-hugging clothes she seemed taller than usual, her graceful body unconsciously stretching to the music.
'I'm very rusty now,' he admitted, 'but I wanted to be a concert pianist long ago, before I discovered what hard work it could be - and discovered women! I love music, though, that certainly hasn't changed, and I always like directing anything with a musical content. One of the first things I ever directed was a children's serial for television - a thing called Happy Feet'
'Oh, Nick! I remember that so well!' Sarah began to laugh. 'I was about ten. It was on just before I went away to school. It was about a dance school, wasn't it? I so wanted to be like those girls in the show.'
'Oh, God!' Nick looked aghast. 'That makes me feel like Methuselah!'
No, just the man who inspired my career!' She grinned at his discomfort. 'Before that I wanted to be a rider, because all the other girls at Pony Club wanted to be three-day eventers. But then Daddy took me to see Sleeping Beauty, and then there was Happy Feet and I was hooked.' His fingers automatically strayed into the Sleeping Beauty waltz and he watched her move easily to the music, stretching into an arabesque, her back leg reaching high above her head in a straight line with an astonishing ease.
'I'm impressed!' he told her. 'I'd forgotten you danced until you mentioned troupe-dancing the other day.'
'I would've loved to do classical ballet,' she sighed, 'but I got too tall. That nearly broke my heart.'
'Their loss was theatre's gain,' he comforted. 'I bet you made a gorgeous cat.'
'All claws!' Sarah reached over, as she had been longing to do, and ran her nails gently over the dark mist of hair in the open front of his shirt. Nick, too, had changed - and shaved, she noticed. His loose white Lauren shirt, though tucked into his jeans, had only. the bottom two buttons fastened. Immediately he stopped playing and caught her hand in his, lifting it to his lips, kissing her fingertips one by one.
Sarah stopped teasing then, as his other hand went to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her closer. They forgot that the piano was in full view of two windows as he kissed her, with deep, exploring kisses that brought her arms up around his neck, as she clung to him, taking everything his lips gave in those few minutes. As delicately as he had played the piano. Nick stroked her breasts
with his fingertips through the thin jersey fabric. She was bra-less under the tight halter, and he was quickly aware of her throbbing arousal. 'I think we'd be a lot more comfortable upstairs,' he suggested softly. 'Does that meet with your approval?'
'Not on the piano? I would have thought that might appeal to you, Nick?'
'On a Bechstein?' He sounded horrified. 'Maybe in movies, but I have far too much respect for a good piano - and Mrs J's feelings if she caught us! Come on.' Laughing at their conspiracy they ran up the stairs together, anxious not to be seen by the staff, not relaxing until they had gained Nick's room and he had locked the door behind them.
Suddenly, Sarah was hesitant, knowing what he was intending to do and unsure whether she wanted the same now. The room was flooded with the early evening sun, lighting the soft chintz of the four poster bed as Nick drew her towards it and threw back the covers. There would be no darkness in which to hide from him, she realized as she trembled in his grasp, and her heart sank.
'Don't be nervous, Sarah,' he said, gently, mindful of her confession. 'I'd never do anything you didn't like, I promise. Nothing need even happen if you don't want it to. I'm happy just to kiss you.' Slowly, Sarah put her hands on his chest inside his shirt, feeling the hard muscles and the strong beat of his heart, taking reassurance from him. His heart was pounding almost as much as hers was.
'I want it, Nick,' she said. 'I'm just frightened you'll be disappointed in me.'
'That's hardly likely!' He sounded relieved, and his kiss, when it came was long and penetrating, growing in intensity as he laid her back on the bed, his hands on the fastening of her jeans. They were tight, and he eased them off with some difficulty, chuckling at the discovery of the garment under them. 'You don't believe in making things easy for me, do you?' he chided as he searched for the poppers he knew held the body together.
'It's only one thing - far easier than underwear,' she pointed out, with a tremor in her voice, as he pulled the offending garment upwards, dislodging her carefully pinned up hair.
