by Anne Styles
Testing her aching limbs carefully, she climbed out of bed, and, wrapping herself in Nick's discarded dressing gown, wandered to the window, drawn by the sound of the dogs barking. Nick was out on the lawn in front of the house, throwing tennis balls for them to chase, laughing and teasing them, holding the balls high so that they had to jump for them. He looked so relaxed and happy that she smiled, willing him to look up to the window and waving when he did.
Five minutes later, as she was running a bath, he appeared in the bedroom carrying a glass of orange juice for her. 'Good morning, my angel,' he greeted her, and kissed her with a surprising energy for one who had been kissing her half the night.
Holding her breath, Sarah slid her aching body into the bath, wincing as she hit the water. Laughing, Nick lounged into the armchair. 'Maybe I'd better not suggest going riding this morning!' 'You're a total sadist!' Sarah replied, chucking a water- filled sponge at him and shrieking as he calmly hurled it straight back at her.
'Hush, sweetheart, you'll frighten the staff,' he warned. 'Now, what would you like to do today? Walk, ride, swim, play tennis, or any other of the revoltingly strenuous activities you're so fond of?' 'Don't you usually work on Saturdays?' she asked curiously.
'Yes, but I promised we'd have this weekend, so I denied myself your company early this morning to get my paperwork done. We can now have the day to ourselves.'
'In that case let's go for a walk,' Sarah suggested. 'It's about all I have the energy for at the moment.'
'I'll tell Mrs Johnson we're ready for breakfast, then. I take it you're starving, as usual?' 'Does she know I'm here?'
'Yes, I confessed,' he laughed. 'But I ruffled the bed in the Lady Edward room as an alibi! The staff all go off at lunchtime today, as Charlie's not here, and I said I didn't need anything. Don't be long. Or do you want a hand out of the bath?' Sarah picked up the sponge again.
'Don't push your luck!' she retorted as he retreated, still laughing.
Mindful of the staff, she collected up the clothes Nick had brought up from the pool and tossed them in her bag at the bottom of his wardrobe, her hands lingering on the neatly ordered rows of jackets, trousers and jeans hanging there.
There were only a couple of suits, she noticed, and a dress suit, the rest were casual clothes, all with the soft, smooth feel of expensive cloth that she had come to associate with Nick over the last few days. She loved the way he wore a tweed jacket with jeans. With his athletic build and long legs he made it look like a Savile Row suit, she thought, smiling, and then closed the door quickly as she started to feel guilty at being so inquisitive.
In jeans and T-shirt, without any make-up, she looked no older than Charlotte as she joined him in the morning room. 'My God!' he exclaimed in amusement. 'I feel as if I could be done for child abuse!'
'I don't feel like a child!' she admitted, 'but I'm very hungry.' She was starving, and happily demolished a huge plate of scrambled egg and bacon. 'Your loving is definitely no good for my waistline,' she told him. 'You use up all my energy and I have to eat all the time to refuel.'
'I intend to use up a lot more of your energy,' he promised her. 'Before tomorrow is over.'
* * *
It was a heavenly morning, warm and sunny. They walked for miles, the dogs at their heels, talking all the time, laughing and kissing. Nick felt her youthful glow take hold of him, making him carefree in the sunshine. For once, walking was a pleasure, with a girl who could match his stride and his strength. Diana had always hated walking, and avoided it whenever possible.
Hungry again by lunchtime, they foraged in the fridge. Mrs Johnson had left a game pie for them and Sarah made a salad and a French dressing without messing it up. She had a sinking feeling that Nick would be quite fussy about things like that, but he dipped his finger in it and pronounced it fine, to her obvious relief. Carefully, she carried the tray outside to the terrace while he opened wine for them.
'I really can't cook,' she confessed as they sat in the sunshine and peace of the garden. 'George is always telling me off about it.'
'Well, I don't think you'll have much time to learn in the near future,' he told her. 'Not if I have anything to do with your career.'
'Do you really think so?' She sounded anxious.
'I know so. With the right scripts and contacts you'll be sensational. I work with Seth Waterston a lot, don't forget, and you can't get much higher than him and you can bet your sweet life he is going to be really interested in you.'
'What a lovely thought,' she sighed, and threw their leftover bread to the birds. 'But are all film directors as difficult as you?'
'Some are a lot worse, I can assure you!' He hadn't felt so good in a long time. Spending a weekend doing absolutely nothing was almost unheard of for Nick, and he realized just how much he needed it. Going back to Oxfordshire at weekends was rarely very restful.
There were always friends to see, things around the house and grounds to organize, and if Charlotte was home it was a constant ferrying operation since they lived in a village. The most taxing thing he had to do that day was decide where to take Sarah to eat in the evening.
Watching her playing with the dogs, pony-tail flying as she ran with them, he felt the urge for her growing, and strode across the lawn to sweep her up. 'I need a siesta after such a sleepless night,' he suggested with a wicked smile. 'How about you?'
'I could be persuaded,' she said, her stomach lurching with anticipation as he walked her back to the house.
'Not sore any longer, then?' he asked, grinning.
'No, that went with the bath. I'm fine now.' Sarah had never felt so happy in her life, all she could think of was Nick, and wanting him.
The phone ringing as they reached the house seemed an intrusion on their relaxed mood, but Nick only grimaced as he gestured for her to go upstairs.
'Go up - I'd better answer it.'
'Nick,' said James, when he picked it up. 'Is Sarah with you, by any chance?'
'Yes, as it happens she is,' he answered cautiously. 'Is there a problem?'
'Only bloody reporters! That guy you recognized is from the Unicorn. They've been pestering us like mad about yesterday's scene - among other things. Cress is going mad!'
'You haven't told them anything?'
'Leave it out!' James was indignant. 'I told them that Sarah is nothing to do with me, and that as far as I was concerned she was away for the weekend. But they do know about your little argument from somewhere, I'm afraid, and I don't suppose Cress and I will get much peace from now on. Still, it might take the heat away from you two if we let them follow us around. I don't want Sarah to go through this. She's not used to this kind of harassment, I am.'
'I'll get the press office to sort it out,' Nick said. 'I don't want Sarah upset either. I think I got some reasonable stills - that should keep them quiet. Thanks, James. If you can keep them off our backs, I'll owe you one.' He rang his PR girl at home immediately, and then rang the estate manager to alert him to possible intruders, before going up to Sarah.
Sitting in the huge bed, with the sheet drawn up around her breasts, she looked very vulnerable and anxious. 'I thought you'd abandoned me!' She smiled with relief, holding her arms out to him as he threw off jeans and shirt.
'No, just a little business.' He pulled the sheet away from her. 'Now, where were we?' Without the urgency of the night before, his lovemaking was far more tender and gentle. He kept her guessing at every encounter, she thought, and they fell asleep with the sun streaming across the bed.
* * *
He surprised her again when they were dressing to go out to dinner. Sarah had retrieved her black chiffon dress from her car and left it on the bed while they showered. Nick smiled with pleasure at the sight of it.
'I think seeing you in that was the first time I really wanted you,' he said reflectively, then picked up the tights and pants she had put beside it. 'Do something for me?' he added as she dried herself. 'Don't wear these. Just wear the dress?'
'What?' She was horrified, and aware he was testing her again.
'I just love the idea of it,' he grinned. 'Don't if you don't want to.' But to please him, she acquiesced. Sated with his love-making, she would have done anything to please him.
After James's phone call. Nick had opted for the safety of the Priory, since he knew the discreet waiters would protect their privacy. What he hadn't allowed for was the car that dropped in behind them as he drove out of Hastings Court's gates.
'I don't believe this,' he cursed, after several miles and numerous turns. 'We're being followed.' 'That's stupid! Who would follow us?' Sarah demanded, turning to look at the Ford behind them.
'Either my wife has a detective on my trail, or it's the press guys who have been plaguing James and Cress all morning!' Nick said grimly. 'James rang me. Hold on for a while.' They were not far from the M4, and Nick swung the car towards the slip road. Sure enough, the other car followed. But it was no match for the Porsche, or its driver.
Ducking and weaving. Nick drove along the motorway and then doubled back at the next intersection. He was off and on the way back long before the other car reached the intersection and roared straight on. 'I hope the editor turns down their petrol expenses!' he laughed as he turned off again at the Hungerford turning.
With Rene the head waiter's co-operation, their evening was undisturbed and relaxed. They drank champagne and held hands across the table, with eyes only for each other. Nick knew he was being reckless, but he cared very little at that moment for the consequences.
Returning to Hastings, though, he became more cautious, driving through a rarely used gate and up a fairly rough road to the back of the house. 'Good job this car is tough,' he grumbled. 'Bloody press men!' The breeze was ruffling Sarah's skirt as she got out of the car, and laughing, she sidestepped as he reached out for her. She was like an eel, slipping out of his reach and running away across the lawn until her high heels caught in the grass and she fell. Scooping her up. Nick threw her on the garden seat, her skirt above her waist.
In the bushes, only ten feet away from them, the sweating reporter from the Unicorn watched in envious amazement. Having driven miles along the M4 before he realized he had been conned, he had doubled back and phoned every restaurant in the area listed in the Good Food Guide to no avail, before deciding to stake out the Hastings Court estate.
He cursed as he realized he had hit the jackpot. They had come out to cover the Do or Dare girl and James Willoughby, but he had an even better story happening right in front of him and he knew he couldn't even print it.
'The lovely Miss Campbell,' he told his envious colleague later, 'was being screwed by the man Maxie has been after for months, and, screaming deliriously. Miss Campbell was obviously loving every minute of it.' He only gave up his vigil when Nick carried her into the house while she clung around his neck. 'Lucky, lucky bastard!' he muttered viciously to himself as he started the long walk back to his car, cursing the fact that he couldn't even substantiate his information with a photograph. Maxie would be furious.
CHAPTER 10
It was ten o'clock when Charles walked into the kitchen at Hastings and got the shock of his life. He realized he had been thoroughly out-flanked as far as Sarah was concerned.
Nick and Sarah were locked in each other's arms, so absorbed in each other that they were completely unaware of his presence. Sarah, wearing Nick's dressing gown was perched on the edge of the table, her bare legs wrapped around him as he held her, his mouth pressed to her throat. He wore just a pair of faded Levis that served only to emphasize, to a furious Charles, the narrowness of his hips and the power of his shoulders against his own lesser build as he bent over her. Embarrassed and angry, he turned to leave, and only then did they become aware of him.
As casually as he could manage Nick loosened his arms and lowered Sarah to the floor. For once in his life he was at a loss as to what to do. Sarah felt his unease and took the lead, going quickly to Charles and reaching up to press a kiss on his cheek before she took a cup and saucer from the dresser and poured him some coffee. Her skin smelted of Trumpers 'Curzon', a cologne that Nick had used for years, and he felt his fury compounded, instead of feeling the pleasure that her kisses usually gave him, however brief.
'Go and get dressed, Sarah,' Nick suggested, in a voice that brooked no argument, and reached to pull a sweatshirt over his head. 'I wasn't expecting you back until much later,' he confessed to Charles as Sarah left them.
'Obviously!' Charles snapped. 'You forgot, I suppose, that you and I are supposed to be lunching with the Saunders's?' Nick threw a hand to his head in dismay.
'Oh, hell, Charlie, yes, I did. I'm sorry!'
'Too busy with other things,' Charles shrugged, his tone bitter. 'Never mind, we'll take Sarah with us. Liz won't mind, and Rupert will be delighted, I'm sure.' He opened his ever-present briefcase. 'I brought the rushes. They were delivered to the office yesterday.'
'I'm not sure I should show you these,' Nick said as he picked up the can of film.
'I'd rather see her acting with James than wrapped around you,' Charles replied. 'Go on, go and tell her we're going out. If I can't see her one way, I'll see her another. I'm not giving up. Nick.' Possession, though, thought Nick triumphantly as he went upstairs, was everything.
Sarah had made the bed and was sitting on it, half into her jeans, gazing disconsolately into space. 'Are you going to be working now Charles is back?' she asked sadly. 'Is he very upset?'
'He'll be all right. But I'd forgotten we're going to some friends for lunch. It's OK,' he added as her face fell. 'You're coming with us. You'll like Rupert and Liz, though if Rupert makes a pass at you I shall probably thump him! I tend to get a little possessive about the people I love.'
'Do you?' The hazel eyes had widened into pools and he was definitely drowning.
'Love you?' He paused, finally facing the inevitable. 'Yes, Sarah, I think I probably do. Not. . .' he hesitated, searching for the right words '. . . not in the same way as my family, I admit, but I love you enough to want this to go on.'
Sarah threw herself into his arms. 'Oh, I wanted you to say that. I couldn't bear not to see you again.'
'You will see me, I promise. Just as often as we can manage without hurting Charlie.'
'Poor Charles. Was he very angry with you?' she asked, remembering his anguished face.
Nick shrugged. 'He'll get over it - I hope. Now he knows, there's not a lot we can do about it. Still, we've been fighting over ladies since we were five! I seem to remember blacking his eye over Liz Saunders at one point. We were all of nine, I think!'
That made her giggle with delight. 'It's a good job he didn't come back last night when we were in the garden,' she commented. 'He really would have had a shock! Now, what do I wear?'
'Typical female! Leave your jeans on. Rupert breeds racehorses; he'll doubtless have you on one before the afternoon is over.' He kissed her slowly, and then released her so that she could finish dressing, approving her silk shirt, but fastening an extra button. 'Some things I want to keep to myself,' he said firmly. 'Rupert is enough of a lech as it is!'
Suddenly Sarah noticed the film can. 'Are those Friday's rushes?' she asked, and he nodded.
'Do you want to watch them? We have time.' 'I'm not sure I want to . . .' She hesitated. Sarah had always hated watching herself on screen.
'Try it,' he suggested. 'You might even like them.' She doubted that very much, but she followed him down to the basement room Charles had turned into a cinema years before. He still preferred to run a movie than watch TV, so the equipment was expensive and up to date. Consequently Nick used it every day to view his rushes.
Charles, his composure back together, joined Sarah as Nick disappeared to load up the projector.
The first few shots were straightforward; she only tensed when the third shot appeared. Nick had printed four of the twelve takes, and she was only too aware of Charles's intake of breath as the first one came up. She had t
o admit the lighting and soft, smoky atmosphere made it look good.
'That's beautiful!' he breathed as Sarah realized that on the second take the rearranged lighting had indeed made her clothes transparent. With a sinking heart she slumped further down in her chair and watched the afternoon's shoot float in front of her.
Charles was engrossed. Nick seemed to be coolly making notes, and she wriggled with embarrassment, watching herself and James making love with seemingly total abandon. Nick only seemed to react when he heard her scream in the last take, since it was a cry he had provoked often enough in the last couple of days, and he finally realized how close to real it had been that afternoon. Sarah felt the bile rising in her throat and she fled the room in panic. She only just made it to the cloakroom before she threw up.
Weak from the effort, she slumped over the basin, coughing and choking, wiping her streaming eyes, until she managed to go up to Nick's room and tidy herself up. It was there that Nick found her, hunched on the floor in his bathroom, her face hidden in the chair seat, after he and Charles had searched everywhere downstairs and all around the garden.
Anxiously, he gathered her up in his arms, cradling her against his shoulder as in vain he tried to convince her that the scene would look much better after editing. But Sarah was not to be persuaded.
'It makes me look like a total whore!' she protested. 'How could you do this to me. Nick? How could you? It's like nothing is left out!'
'Sarah, some of those shots are the most beautiful I've ever seen in a love scene. I'm not taking them out. They're far too good.'
'Even though I'm begging you?'
Nick hated seeing the distraught face raised to his, and he kissed her eyelids over eyes bright with tears that this time he knew were genuine. 'I love you, Sarah, very much,' he said. 'But the way I edit has nothing to do with that. You'll have to trust me as a professional director; it's that simple really,' he told her finally.
