Merlyn's Magic

by Carole Mortimer

  She was drowning!

  She began to thrash her legs to and fro in an effort to get back to the surface, felt one of her shoes leave her foot as she did so, the narrow-skirted dress she wore impeding her movements and clinging to her body like a restrictive skin. Weeds tangled against her thrashing limbs, and she cried out soundlessly at their slimy tentacles, immediately taking in more water, choking, desperately needing to take air into her lungs.

  If only she could reach the surface, if only she could breathe! God, she was going to drown out here and no one would even know about it until they found her body in the morning. No one even knew where she had gone. Why hadn't she—?

  Suddenly she felt something close about her waist as she was forced through the water to the surface, drawing air into her starved lungs even as she choked up the water she had taken in, her arms going around Rand's neck as she clung to him, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed with the relief of being alive.

  'Are you all right?' he rasped.

  'Yes,' she sobbed.

  'What the hell happened?' demanded Rand, his arms about her as he kept them both afloat.

  'I don't know,' Merlyn choked. 'I—Oh I'm just so glad you found me!' She couldn't seem to stop clinging to him, frightened to let go in case the black water closed over her again. 'Don't let go of me, Rand. Please, don't let go!' She trembled uncontrollably.

  He drew in a ragged breath, his eyes silver in the moonlight. 'You're safe now, Merlyn,' he assured her gruffly. 'You're safe!'

  For all his confidence, she still clung to him when he had managed to push her out of the water up on to the bank, pulling himself out beside her to lay back panting on the grass.

  'Well my life had become a little dull before you exploded into it,' he smiled, his chest heaving up and down from the effort it had taken to subdue her panic enough to get her over to the bank and out of the water. 'Thunderstorms, prowlers, and now this!'

  She gave a shaky laugh, her head resting on his chest, relieved just to be alive.

  'What happened?' Rand probed again softly.

  'I—You're shivering,' she realised, sitting up to look down at him. His shirt clung to him wetly, as did his trousers, but at least he had had the good sense to throw off his shoes before jumping into the water, she realised as she ruefully looked down at her own feet where only one sandal remained. Her stockings were laddered in several places, her green dress as covered in mud as was the rest of her. They both looked a mess.

  'Let's go inside.' He pulled her to her feet and over to the warmth the gazebo offered, picking up his jacket and shoes as they passed them. 'No electricity,' he told her as she looked around inside for a light-switch, finding a box of matches in a cupboard with a familiarity that told of his use of the gazebo in the past, striking one to light the oil lamp that stood on a small table. 'And there should be some blankets in here.' He lifted up the lid to an ottoman that also seemed to serve as the coffee-table as it stood in front of the sofa, taking out one of the blankets to wrap it around Merlyn and another one to drape about his own shoulders. 'Now I could do with the brandy I've been drinking like water lately,' he said as Merlyn huddled down into the blanket as she sat on the sofa.

  Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. 'Have I thanked you yet for saving me?'

  'I'm just glad I saw you when I did.' His expression was grim as he paced the small room, at least they were out of the biting wind in here. 'I almost didn't,' he scowled. 'With that green dress and dark hair you were camouflaged pretty well against the trees. Then just as I was locking the car something made me glance over here. Just in time to see you fall in!'

  'I didn't fall in.' She huddled beneath the blanket, tucking her feet up underneath it. 'The planking gave way.'

  He looked at her and frowned. 'It did?'

  'Mm,' Merlyn nodded, starting to feel a little warmer now. 'It must have been rotten. With all this rain that isn't surprising,' she added wryly.

  'No,' Rand acknowledged.

  'If one more weatherman tells me it's the wettest summer for years…!'

  'Yes,' he grimaced his agreement.

  This was ridiculous. They were lovers, Rand had probably just saved her life, and here they were discussing the weather like polite strangers sitting in a dentist's waiting-room.

  'You received the message that I'd called, then?' She certainly didn't have the experience to know what the next move was in an affair!

  'Did you think I wouldn't?' Rand frowned.

  She shrugged. 'Your housekeeper gave me the impression she didn't approve of my calling you. Or maybe she just isn't used to women telephoning you?' she added hopefully; that 'with the others' still rankled.

  He gave a grimace, peering out of the window where the rain had once again started to fall. 'It isn't you she doesn't approve of, she just knows you stayed at the house that night. It's a village community, Merlyn,' he answered her dismayed expression. 'Little goes on here that someone doesn't know about.'

  No wonder she had received such a frosty response the one time she had actually met Mrs Sutton and then again on the telephone this evening; the other woman hadn't given the impression that the twentieth century had caught up with her yet, let alone the 'permissive society'.

  'Do you mind?' She looked closely at Rand, his face unyielding in profile.

  He turned slowly to look at her. 'Do you?' His voice was husky.

  She shrugged. 'Why should I mind anyone knowing about a relationship that even I don't understand?'

  Rand's eyes narrowed as he stepped away from the window. 'What is there to understand?'

  'You!'

  His mouth twisted. 'That would be a case of "the blind leading the blind". I don't understand me either,' he rasped. 'And besides the fact that your very existence is a medical miracle, I know little or nothing about you either. What you like, what you dislike.' He shook his head.

  She was cold and wet, would probably have been hysterical if it weren't for his comforting presence, and yet the mention of her own birth reminded her of the child he and Suzie had lost, and she deliberately made her reply lightly enquiring. 'Disregarding all the injustices of the world, like famine, and drought, and—'

  'Yes, disregarding all those,' he drawled.

  'Just my own personal likes and dislikes?'

  'Yes,' he nodded.

  'We're both soaked through and you want to discuss my likes and dislikes?' she laughed.

  Rand returned the smile. 'We don't have anything else to do.' He looked pointedly at the rain.

  They both knew that wasn't true, her desire for him reflected in his eyes, and yet with the condition they were both in anything else but talking was impossible. 'Which would you like first?' she said lightly. 'I have three real loves in life, and only one real hate.'

  His brows rose. 'Then we'll save that one until last,' he drawled, sitting opposite her in the chair, the lamp giving a golden cast to his features as it stood on the table beside him.

  'Well,' her eyes glowed, 'I love cats. I don't just like them, you understand, I love them. All colours, shapes and sizes. Of course I haven't had one of my own since I left home, it wouldn't be practical when I now live in a flat and go away so much. But one day, when I can afford it, I'm going to buy a big old house somewhere in the country and fill it with cats!' Colour heated her cheeks as she realised she had probably just described his house to perfection. 'When I can afford it,' she added defensively.

  'Then people will know you're a witch,' Rand teased softly, completely relaxed. 'What's your second like?'

  'Rain. Walking in it. Usually.' She gave a pointed grimace to the weather outside. 'Even I've had my fill of it this year!'

  He gave a throaty laugh. 'And your third love?'

  'Burnt biscuits,' she announced with relish.

  'Burnt biscuits?' he repeated slowly, as if he must have misheard. Or hoped he had!

  Her mouth quirked. 'Actually, I love burnt toast too, but I think burnt biscuits comes first.'
/>   'Of course,' he agreed as one humouring a slightly deranged person.

  Merlyn chuckled. 'You did ask!'

  'Hm.' He seemed to question his own sense in doing so. 'Why burnt biscuits?'

  'Because they taste the best,' she shrugged carelessly.

  'So if I ever want to bring you a gift I forget about roses and chocolates and bring along burnt biscuits instead?' he drawled dryly. 'Mrs Sutton would have a fit if I asked her to deliberately burn her delicious cooking!'

  Remembering the lovely meals the housekeeper had left him prepared in the freezer, Merlyn thought the other woman would probably resign on the spot if he made such a request. But the thought that Rand might like to bring her a gift at some stage in their relationship filled her with a warm glow. 'I don't eat chocolates,' she told him huskily. 'But I do like roses. White ones.'

  'And now for this intriguing one dislike you have,' he said abruptly.

  'It isn't that interesting,' she declared, realising by his suddenly withdrawn manner than she had over-stepped some imaginary line by telling him her preference in flowers.

  'Tell me anyway,' he invited softly.

  She pursed her lips. 'I hate being called "Ms"! I told you it wasn't very interesting,' she shrugged uncomfortably.

  'But it is,' he mused. 'Very interesting. You're an independent lady, have a successful career, should be just the sort of woman who would revel in the featureless Ms!'

  'Featureless,' she repeated with feeling. 'That exactly describes it. If women are so liberated they can obviously do without men why do they need to hide their marital status behind Ms!'

  'You really don't like it, do you,' Rand chuckled incredulously.

  'I don't see the need for it, women that are so liberated they really believe they don't need anyone else, not even emotionally, usually refuse to change their name or wear a ring when they marry anyway. I certainly can't see any insult or slight being implied by being called Miss when it's so obvious a man isn't needed for a complete and fulfilling life any more!'

  Rand stood up, determinedly crossing the room to sit down beside her on the sofa, unfolding the blanket from about her with deft movements. 'There's still one thing you need us for,' he murmured as his head bent towards hers.

  Her last observation definitely hadn't been a personal one. 'Oh but—'

  'You need me for his,' he groaned before his mouth claimed hers.

  Thunder crashed and lightning flashed overhead as that kiss went on and on, Merlyn flushed and breathless when Rand at last raised his head. That remark wasn't meant on a personal level,' she gasped before he could demonstrate a second time how much she needed him. 'I'm not ashamed to admit that I need you.' She caressed the lean hardness of his cheek.

  His eyes were dark. 'I need you too. But not here, and especially with the two of us like this!'

  She fully understood what he meant by the latter. Where they were drying off the odour from the lake water and weeds was becoming quite pungent; they both needed a shower.

  'You haven't told me any of your likes or dislikes yet,' she teased. 'Besides smelly lakes!'

  'Right now that is paramount on my list of dislikes.' He stood up to turn off the oil lamp, leaving the moon as their only illumination. 'But one of my likes—loves—supersedes even that.' He flung open the door to the gazebo, the wind and rain instantly blowing inside. 'I love making love to you.' He held out his hand in silent invitation.

  Merlyn looked from the heavy rain falling outside to Rand, drowning in those beautiful silver eyes. She stood up to take off the one shoe she still wore, putting her hand in his as they ran out into the storm together.

  They were laughing with the sheer joy of just being together by the time they reached her room, undressing quickly to step under the shower, their gazes locked as they slowly washed each other beneath the soothing spray, Rand's body forging with hers in a tempest of emotions much stronger than the storm thundering outside.

  'We never did have dinner,' Rand murmured some time after eleven, the two of them lying naked together in Merlyn's bed.

  'Still hungry?' She mocked the feast he had made of her body the last two hours.

  His eyes gleamed with mischief. 'Anne's chef does a lovely Club sandwich!'

  'At this time of night?' Merlyn groaned.

  'Especially this time of night,' Rand assured her, already picking up the telephone to place an order for two of the sandwiches and a bottle of wine.

  'I suppose you do realise that you've just ruined my reputation.' She quirked mocking brows as he replaced the receiver after making the order. 'This room is supposed to be let to a single lady.'

  'Want me to call them back?' he teased. 'Tell them we've changed our minds?'

  As it always did, their awkwardness together fled when they were in bed. 'Very funny.' She gave him a playful punch on the arm. 'But I—'

  She broke off as the telephone began to ring. 'Who on earth—!'

  'Yes, this is room 202,' Rand confirmed down the receiver. 'Of course you can speak to Miss Summers.' He held out the receiver to her, seeming to be having difficulty in keeping a straight face.

  Merlyn understood why as the room-service waiter identified himself and asked if an order had just been placed from her room, colour flowering in her cheeks as Rand got out of bed to move out of earshot of the telephone before he burst out laughing.

  Merlyn was so fascinated by that throaty laugh that she answered the waiter in a vague voice. God, Rand was beautiful when he forgot his bitterness and gave in to genuine humour.

  'Ask him not to forget the coleslaw,' he prompted dryly.

  She made the request before she realised what she was doing, quickly ending the call to glare at Rand. 'It will be all over the hotel by tomorrow,' she groaned.

  'No, it won't,' he assured her lightly. 'The staff here can be very discreet. Why do you think he telephoned back to make sure he had the right room?'

  'So that someone didn't end up with a free meal after I refused to pay for it because I didn't order it!'

  'You watch too many films,' he derided mockingly. 'The man was merely checking that he didn't go to the wrong room and interrupt the wrong couple!'

  'And I thought Anne ran a respectable hotel!' Merlyn feigned dismay, enjoying the exchange immensely.

  'She does; it's the disreputable film-crew she has in residence that are dragging down the tone of the place,' Rand told her, tongue-in-cheek.

  'Not nice,' she reproved with mock indignation. 'Just because I can't stay out of your arms is no reason to suppose the rest of the cast are behaving as disgracefully.'

  'No? When we came in earlier I saw two couples who certainly weren't married to each other go into rooms down the corridor.'

  Merlyn frowned. 'Anyone I know?'

  'I would say you knew all of them,' replied Rand. 'But Drake wasn't one of the men, if that's what you're wondering.'

  'I wasn't,' she denied. 'At least, not for the reason you're implying.' How could she explain to him that if Christopher had found a woman to divert his attention he might be more amenable to her tomorrow when she told him she wouldn't do a nude scene with Mark. 'I only—' She broke off as a knock sounded on the door. 'That was quick,' she muttered as she stood up to pull on her robe, belting it tightly about her waist as she moved to answer the knock.

  'Want me to hide in the bathroom?' Rand taunted softly.

  She gave him a scathing glance. 'Wouldn't that be a little pointless in the circumstances?'

  'I think so, yes.' He gave an abrupt inclination of his head. 'But it's up to you.'

  'You could try putting something on to save the poor man's blushes,' she snapped. 'But that is up to you.'

  He mockingly pulled on his trousers, dry now, but very badly stained from the lake water.

  Merlyn waited only long enough to be sure he had zipped up the trousers before opening the door, her polite words of invitation to the room-service waiter dying in her throat as she saw it was Christopher who stood there.<
br />
  What on earth could he want at her room at this time of night!

  She quickly turned to look at Rand, knowing from his expression as he regarded the two of them with narrowed eyes that he was wondering the same thing—and drawing his own conclusions.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Christopher was obviously looking at their half-naked state and drawing his own conclusions too—only his were the right ones.

  'I didn't realise I would be interrupting anything,' he drawled softly, his blue gaze speculative. 'I received a message that you wanted to see me as soon as I got back, Merlyn.'

  She still had her doubts about his having been anywhere, but she certainly wasn't going to start discussing her aversion to a nude scene in the gazebo with Mark in front of Rand. 'It can wait until tomorrow,' she answered tautly.

  'If you say so,' he shrugged. 'I wouldn't have bothered you this late at night but the receptionist seemed to think it was urgent.'

  'It wasn't,' she muttered through clenched teeth. 'At least, nothing that can't wait until the morning.'

  'If you're sure…?' He still lingered in the open doorway.

  Her eyes flashed. 'I'm sure, Christopher,' she told him with controlled anger.

  'Okay.' He didn't argue. 'Good night, Merlyn. 'Night, Carmichael,' he added mockingly.

  Merlyn let out a ragged sigh of relief as she leant back against the closed door, looking apprehensively at Rand as he stood across the room from her, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets. Despite his bared chest and tousled hair he didn't even look approachable, let alone like her lover.

  'Why did you need to see him?' Rand spoke suddenly in the awkward silence that had followed Christopher's departure.

  She put a hand up to her temple as she moved away from the door, feeling the tension there. 'I—There's a scene I'm not too happy about.' She knew she sounded evasive, but how could she tell Rand that it was intended that she should be naked tomorrow when she played the part of his dead wife!

  'Surely you ironed all that out weeks ago?' Rand's eyes were narrowed.

  'Christopher likes to—improvise, as he goes along,' she admitted.