"Why?"
Ram shot him a level look. "I know that even without the aid of those spectacles, you are not totally blind."
"Well, no." Anthony smoothed his moustache, clearing his throat. "I'd have to be not to notice."
"You are angry?"
"Should I be?"
Ram turned from the window, running a hand through his hair before he spoke, "I do not understand the relationship atween you and the lady, Antony. Forgive me if I've intruded on your claim—"
"Whoa! Wait a sec. I don't have any claim on her, Ramsey. Nobody lays claim to that woman and I'd think after today you'd know that." It was more than a friendly warning, then he paused, looking thoughtful. "Is this why you disliked me so much at first?''
"Aye."
"I love her," Anthony said, and Ram's gaze snapped up from where he'd been studying the carpet fibers. "Like a sister or a daughter, I should say." Anthony rubbed his bearded chin. "God knows I'm old enough to be her father, does that ease your mind?"
"My mind was not troubled over the matter, Welshman."
"Confident, aren't we?"
Ramsey simply folded his arms over his chest, his eyes hooded.
"That attitude will get you in trouble, O'Keefe, beware."
"When I need your advice, Welshman, I shall beat a hasty path from your doorstep.''
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Anthony threw back his shoulders. "I do believe I've been insulted."
Ram fished in his pocket and tossed a handful of matchbooks on the bed, then slanted a look at Anthony, arching a brow.
'Point taken, old man,'' he said on a conceding laugh, knowing each contained a woman's name and number. "You've also proven yourself capable of protecting her, if anything, from herself. And I'll tell you right now, she won't allow another stranger in this house, not even the mailman, nor will she ever concede to hiring a bodyguard."
"Your point?"
"That cut on her throat and those shots taken at you are attempted murder in the eyes of the law. Whoever's behind this won't go away." He seemed to be muscling up his words, Ram thought, afore he said, "That's why I want to hire you."
Ram looked stunned. "I beg your pardon?"
"As her bodyguard, of course."
"You've no need to pay me to see her safe. This I've promised her."
"You'll stay then?" Anthony had a lesser, though ulterior, motive. He didn't want Ramsey to disappear before he figured out the mystery of his arrival.
Ram nodded, extending his hand. "I shall do my utmost to see she enjoys herself, Welshman." Ramsey smiled, slow and male arrogant.
"I'm counting on that." Anthony left, satisfied with Ram-sey's promise, yet he hadn't met the top step when Ramsey hailed him. Anthony paused, waiting until he met him at the landing.
"You know her friends, mate," he said lowly, not wanting Penny to know he was prying into her life. "Are you aware of a person by the name of Sloane?"
Anthony's features tightened. How did he know about that mess? "A college sorority sister. Didn't get along at all, though."
Ram scowled, awaiting an explanation.
"See, when Penny entered college, mainly to be with Tess, she already won an Oscar for her first film.'' This meant nothing
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to Ramsey, Anthony realized and speculated again, where this man has been for the last thirty some years. ' 'That honor rubbed a few of the local society types the wrong way. Especially Sloane. But Tess was always her final target. Always." His shoulders moved uneasily and Ram recognized his banked anger. "I never understood. I mean, why Tess?"
Ramsey could offer no help. "And the woman's sir name?"
"Rothmere," Anthony answered, then winced when Ramsey blackened the air with a string of curses, and could do no more than stare as Ram spun about, vanishing into his rooms.
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Chapter 22
' 'What is it that you do for Penelope, Welshman, that she allows you free rein in her galley at this late hour?"
Anthony twisted around, startled, then smiled. "Hey, I selected the wallpaper, that at least should get me an open invitation, you know."
Ram chuckled to himself as he went to the tall cooling box, opening the door and removing a platter filled with cold meats and fruit Meggie said she'd left for him.
' 'I was tempted to eat that.'' Anthony gestured to the platter as Ramsey searched the cabinets for bread. Anthony hopped up and opened a drawer, pulling out a loaf, then went to the refrigerator, coming back to the table with mayonnaise, mustard, lettuce, and tomato to add to the feast.
After reading the bread label and reminding himself to look up calorie in his dictionary, Ramsey studied the samplings. "You have not answered my question, Antony, and I thought you were leaving tonight?" Ramsey slapped a huge portion of roast beef and cheese on a slice of bread, folded it over and chomped into the sandwich.
"In a hurry to get rid of me?" Anthony relaxed into his chair again.
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Ram's lips stretched into a slow smile. "Shall I show you the door?"
"Not yet. After a night like we had, I was just trying to gather the strength to drive to my hotel."
Ram frowned. "She has not offered you lodging here?" Despite the circumstances, Ramsey didn't think Penelope was being intentionally rude.
"Don't want to. Penny's a horrible grouch in the morning—" Ram's eyes narrowed at the implication—"and I prefer room service to this." He gestured to the platter as Ramsey joined him at the table. "And to appease your curiosity, Penelope is one of my clients."
"Clients?" Ram settled into a chair, looking Antony over afore he said, "You're a barrister?"
Anthony's brows knitted, then smoothed out. He then smiled. "A lawyer, yes," he said as he neatly folded the newspaper and studied a headline. "Though I admit Penelope's career has kept me busy and well paid."
Ramsey's sandwich paused on the way to his lips, his eyes glittering with quick anger. "Explain that statement, Welshman, afore I call you out."
Anthony peered over the edge of the newspaper and smiled. "No need to get your feathers in a tuff. I advise, financially and professionally, five actors, two writers, and one extremely temperamental singer. Have for years, though Penelope rarely rings me up to consult on scripts anymore." He shrugged. "I'm retained for a fee. If she doesn't work, I don't get paid."
Ramsey scowled darkly and with a disgusted snort, tossed the sandwich aside. "Yer naught but a bloody pimp."
Anthony's eyes brightened, crunching the pager as he lowered his arms to the table. "I think you should rethink that, Ramsey."
The air rang with a silent duel, charged, afore Ramsey's shoulders drooped. God, would he ever understand the ways of this century? "Forgive me, Antony." He waited for acceptance, then said, "But I find it difficult to believe Penelope is an actress."
It was clear he thought the whole idea distasteful and that
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bothered Anthony, for he alone saw something grand growing between Penny and this man. "Maybe you should see her do it before you judge."
Ram scoffed. "She'll not perform for me."
Anthony's smile was patient. "You can watch it on video tape."
Ramsey's head pounded with confusion. " Tis a question I'm certain to regret but, what the ruddy hell is a vee-dee-oh tape?" Anthony opened his mouth, laughter no doubt about to spill forth and Ram put up a hand.' 'I beg you, Welshman. Spare me the humiliation and do not make light of my ignorance."
Anthony fought to keep the chuckle painless and crooked a finger at Ram. "Come on. Class is in session," he said, leaving his chair. Ramsey grabbed up his sandwich, following. They passed the study, rounded a corner and crossed the threshold of a room Ramsey hadn't seen afore. 'Twas decorated in thin red and white striped wall paper, red boarded walls and white sofas, chairs, and tables, liberally doused with red sleek-edged pillows. Twas cheerful, Ram thought. On the far wall opposite them were two f
loor to ceiling windows, atween them a tall white armoire. Anthony strode immediately to the cabinet and touched the center. It magically sprang open and he spread the doors wide. Inside were several black boxes of random sizes, larger versions of the ones in Penelope's room and Ram advanced for a closer inspection, finishing off the last of his sandwich.
Anthony glanced to his side. "You've never seen a T.V., have you?"
Ram shook his head, chewing, bending to examine the books on the bottom, astonished to find the bindings false, the contents yielding a thin black box with wheels of—he didn't know what it was. Straightening, he read the title: Terminator.
"That's a video tape. And you play it through this, a television." Anthony pointed the control at the screen and depressed a button.
Ramsey jolted, stumbling back, the tape flying from his grip as he fell over the low table when the box front lit up with dancing raisins.
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"Sweet Jesus!"
Anthony folded over with laughter and Ramsey sent him a disgusted glare, then dusted himself off, his gaze riveted to the images moving beneath glass. The raisins, which appeared more like clumps of sheep dung, sang about hearing it through the grape vine, then a bowl of some flaked substance dotted with wiggling bugs spun onto the image. Fascinating.
Anthony felt a bizarre mix of confusion and a peculiar delight. To introduce someone to the world of television and video wasn't a normal occurrence, and he'd bet a million that there wasn't a man around who could say he hadn't, at least, heard of it. Yet it was clear that more than just T.V. was new to Ramsey.
Briefly Anthony explained the process of television as best he could, but he found his explanations lacking when Ramsey pressed him for every detail, wanting to know more and more.
"Good Lord, Ramsey, I'll get you a book on it if you want."
Ram nodded, busy watching the glass change from raisins to a beautiful woman walking on the beach and talking of— Ram flushed and looked away. How could this television speak to decent folk of a woman's monthlies as if 'twere comfortable conversation!
Anthony arched a gray brow in Ramsey's direction, noting the dull red flush climbing the back of his neck. "You're not alone, Ram. Most men don't care for those commercials either." Gad, Anthony thought, wait until he sees one for jock itch. "Here,sit." Anthony pushed Ram into a chair and handed him the controls, then went down on one knee, running his finger across the titles. Withdrawing one, he popped open the case and slid it into the VCR, explaining as he went.
The screen, as Anthony referred, went black, then brightened with the Universal introduction, which Anthony instructed Ram to fast forward. Carefully Ramsey depressed the button and watched the images advance with amazing speed. Anthony showed him how to pause, stop, rewind, and slow motion the tape and Ramsey enjoyed playing with the control so much that Anthony threatened to take the new toy. Then the title came into focus, Habits of Nature, starring Penelope Hamilton.
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Ramsey sucked in his breath, leaning forward. He punched buttons, frantically seeking the one that would still the tape, then studied the image of Penelope's face, ten times its size. God, she looked so demure and innocent. 'Twas as if he could reach out and draw her forth and into his arms. He continued the tape.
Anthony plunked down on the couch and Ram glanced to the side. "I was under the impression you were leaving."
"I haven't seen the final of this one. It's just recently come out in video."
"How else does one view such a thing?"
"In a theatre, Ramsey, with a screen that's a hundred times as big as that thirty-five inch thing."
Ram brought his gaze back to the screen and suddenly understood that Penelope's profession entailed more than plays, and he wondered if she'd performed on stage a'tall. Then he asked.
"Sure, that's how she started in the business, summer stock. Working her way up like everyone else, costumer, chorus, extras, until she got her first major role in Dead Orchids. She's been busy ever since. It's in there somewhere." He waved at the base of the cabinet. "That's three deep of tapes. Penelope likes watching movies." His lips thinned. "Alone, unfortunately."
Ramsey paused the screen to ask, "How did you meet her, Antony?" The question nagged at him since the moment he'd met the Welshman.
Anthony smiled with the memory of the gum snapping sixteen-year-old who looked as if she'd ridden with the Hell's Angels since birth. Hard, bitter.. . angry. ' 'She was rehearsing. Gad, she was a smart-mouth, rebellious to the core, chainsmoking and swearing like a sailor." He shook his head and Ramsey looked astonished; he knew he shouldn't have said that much. "It was a summer play of Romeo and Juliet. She was Juliet, you know, and damned awful, but she had the passion, and I knew she'd be good with some training. What I didn't know was how good. I became—" he shrugged— "her acting coach, agent, and guardian, I guess."
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" 'Twas generous on your part, Antony. But had she no parents to guide her?"
Anthony didn't answer, looking away as he remembered promises made long ago. "No," he said, bringing his gaze back to his newest friend and fought the urge to blurt out the truth. ' 'If you want to know more,'' Anthony mumbled, studying his shoe—"you'll have to ask Penelope." He slanted him a cautious look. "Carefully."
Ramsey nodded thoughtfully and without his help the screen unthawed, images speaking, moving. Ram sank back into the soft stuffed couch, utterly entranced.
"In this she portrays an orphan, a novice sequestered in a convent since she was a child, raised under the thumb of nuns until her true father comes to take her back."
"Bloody bastard! Why in God's name did he leave his child in such a strict cold place?"
Anthony laughed. ' 'He didn't know she existed, and remember, Ram, it's only a movie, just like a play. You have seen a play, haven't you?"
"Aye."
There it was again, that innocence, as if he were just born into this world. He'd seen a play but not movies, claimed to be a sea captain, yet arrived like a new baby, no modern clothes, no money, at least not what he had considered valuable currency. He was considerate and protective and proud and Anthony wondered when living under Penelope's roof was going to get to that huge pride. Or had it already and that's why he wanted his own flat? And you're going to risk everything for him, a voice nudged and Anthony rubbed his bearded chin, then smoothed his moustache.
Ramsey recognized his indecision. " Tis a matter you wish to speak on, Antony, be free with your words. We are friends."
Anthony smiled, feeling strangely honored, then took the control, pausing the film. "You might see something in print about your living here."
Ramsey suddenly looked like a pot about to boil over.
"Relax, it's common. Celebrities are subject to close scrutiny and Penelope understands this. Police reports are public record
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and once the reporters get a nibble, they chomp hard. That's one reason why I asked you to stay here, no matter what you read or what she says."
"She will truly be in a fit?"
"A mild assumption. Deal?"
Ramsey's lips tugged in a faint smile. "You already have my word, Welshman, or would you prefer it in blood?"
"With that, I'll leave you. I've just enough time to catch my flight." Anthony handed back the control, stood, then tipped an imaginary hat and left.
Ramsey returned his attention to the screen, drawn into the small chapel, right beside the young girl clad in white and kneeling afore the altar. She looked all of nine and ten years, though he knew Penelope to be at least eight or nine years senior. The film progressed and he forgot 'twas Penelope, the events portrayed stirring a deep sympathy for the sheltered miss and her contempt for the solemn captors who hid behind a holy order and black robes. 'Twas not Penelope he saw, but Karinn, the woman-child forced to submit to harsh Catholic rule because of her lack of parentage. Ye
t Ram witnessed something else, a hollow ache in the girl's eyes he'd seen once in Penelope herself, the day they'd met aboard the Diana. His heart tore as Karinn begged God to give her hope of a life beyond the stone walls and he knew a kindred spirit as she was suddenly thrust into a world she never experienced afore. As the film concluded, Ram pushed his fingers through his hair, realizing how easily Penelope's portrayal had taken him away from the woman he knew, and into the life of young Karinn. She was talented, and he admired her for it.
But he'd yet to see his Penelope express such vivid emotion and wondered why she hid so much from those who cared for her. Were the moments with him a role she portrayed? The thought struck him painfully hard, then he cast it aside as he recalled the cool drape she affected when Bailey and the police were about. 'Twas a role she slipped into, he thought again, to keep the curious at bay. And she was a master at it. But still, the niggling wouldn't be suppressed. Who was Penelope Hamilton?
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The film was just beyond the halfway point when Penelope paused outside the room, not at all upset that he'd made himself at home. She should be, but he looked too damn good, there on the couch, his legs stretched out before him, bare feet resting on the coffee table. Ramsey sipped from a tall glass of beer, his side parted hair, loose and shiny, shielding a view of his expression as he watched the screen.
She left a chunk of herself in that film. No one would ever know how much she would have given to have had a life like young Karinn. Penny never cared what critics said about her work; she knew when she lacked and missed the mark. Habits of Nature hit dead center. She wanted his opinion, but his tightly-clenched fist and soft wordless sounds of compassion was all she needed. Her heart soared. And in the next breath she told herself it shouldn't matter whether he enjoyed her work or not.
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