Beaumont Brides Collection (Wild Justice, Wild Lady, Wild Fire)

by Liz Fielding

  *****

  Gabriel MacIntyre stood in the open doorway of the aircraft and watched Claudia Beaumont fall, counting the seconds, releasing the unexpectedly held breath as the parachute streamed out behind her and the canopy billowed and spread as it filled with air.

  He had been so angry when he had seen the envelope tucked in the ‘chute she’d packed herself, certain it was a message from Tony. It had been something of a shock when, in the privacy of the store room, he’d opened it and seen what was inside.

  She was floating gently now, drifting slightly in the light breeze, the jeep with the ground camera crew chasing after her. He hoped that despite her apprehension she had managed to relax sufficiently to enjoy herself, but the irony of the situation was not lost on him.

  Her celebrity had put her in a situation where she had been forced to do something she would gladly have avoided. While he had been forced to stand by and watch, instead of being out there, skimming the air for those few magical seconds, the closest sensation to flying a man could ever hope achieve.

  He pulled a face as she hit the ground heavily, almost feeling the bone-jarring shock of a bad landing. She had been too tense to collapse and roll the way Tony would have shown her. She’d be stiff tomorrow. And if she’d cut her lip maybe it would be her understudy’s lucky night. He hoped she hadn’t. She had the kind of mouth that dreams were made of even when she was chewing of her lipstick with nerves.

  He watched for a moment longer as the ground camera crew homed in on her, determined not to miss anything that would give the viewers a buzz, hoping that the cool Miss Beaumont would be sufficiently shaken to say something that needed a bleep.

  That was always good for a laugh.

  His lips twisted in disgust at his own feelings of superiority. He was taking their money for God’s sake, part of the circus whether he liked it or not. And what a circus it was.

  He saw her rise to her feet, apparently unhurt by her heavy fall, then peeled away from the doorway, dropping into the canvas seat that Claudia had so recently vacated, rubbing at a knee that was never slow to remind him that he wasn’t quite the man he had been. Be patient, give it six months, the specialist had said and they’d look at it again.

  He didn’t need six months. He knew he’d never jump again. Not and walk away.

  He pushed the thought away, taking the envelope he had retrieved from Claudia’s parachute from his pocket, shaking out the pieces of a photograph and putting them together.

  He’d seen the picture on the cover of one of the Sunday supplements a week or so earlier; Claudia Beaumont dressed and made up for a role that, according to the headline, her mother had once made her own.

  Despite the artificial, stylised glamour of the photograph, the girl’s almost luminous beauty shone through and he could see why someone as gullible as Tony had been bowled over.

  He had thought himself utterly immune to anything that obvious, but when she’d put her head out of that ridiculous little car and looked up at him with those huge silver fox eyes he had been uncomfortably aware of his own stampeding testosterone.

  He’d been so busy defending himself from her siren beauty that he’d bawled at her like a barrack square bully instead of checking to see if she was hurt.

  His mouth twitched in an involuntary smile. She hadn’t needed anyone to look out for her. Miss Claudia Beaumont might look like an angel but she was quite capable of giving as good as she got. Sometime within the next half an hour he would have to apologise to her and he had the distinct feeling that when he did she would be laughing at him, knowing precisely why he had responded in the way he had.

  Was there a man alive who wouldn’t?

  He looked at the photograph again. It had been cut into six pieces. Arms, legs, head, each neatly severed from the body. The effect was distinctly chilling and obviously calculated to scare Claudia silly.

  It had to have been Adele.

  When she was happy, contented, at peace with herself and the world, she was a delightful young woman. Jealous, she was a tiger, quite capable of reacting to any threat to her marriage with that kind of over-the-top gesture and she had been at the airfield yesterday evening, blazing with indignation and fit to kill.

  He shrugged, pushed the envelope back in his pocket wishing he’d never got involved in this pantomime. The money the television company were paying for the use of his field, his team, would help to underwrite the cost of training a bunch of written-off youths into a talented free fall team, but when he had been approached with the idea, he hadn’t anticipated someone like Claudia Beaumont as part of the package, disrupting their lives.

  He shifted uncomfortably. Maybe he was misjudging the woman.

  Once Tony had set eyes on her it was inevitable that he would start thinking with his hormones and it was quite possible that Claudia hadn’t known that he was married. She hadn’t erupted like Adele when he had told her, but the anger had been there, just for a split second before she had covered it with that cool dismissal.

  He looked up as the pilot caught his attention.

  ‘How’d it go?’ he mouthed over the noise of the engine.

  ‘No problems.’

  No problems. He may have had doubts about Claudia Beaumont’s morals but there was certainly no doubting her courage. It took courage to jump when you were frightened out of your wits. And she had been frightened despite all that brittle-edged bravado. He’d seen too many first time jumpers to miss the signs.

  Men usually went through with it because they didn’t want to look stupid in front of their mates. Claudia Beaumont would have looked stupid in front of millions of television viewers. And from what he’d heard, she hadn’t been given much of a choice to start with.

  He bit down hard. She didn’t deserve his sympathy because he certainly wasn’t misjudging the situation that had developed between her and Tony. Damn the man. Why the hell couldn’t he grow up and realise just how lucky he was?

  The aircraft wheels touched down on the runway with a bump and a screech and moments later they were taxiing on to the apron in front of the hangar, followed by the jeep that had brought Claudia and the rest of the crew in from the far side of the field.

  He lowered himself through the door, taking care to put his weight on his right leg first and by the time he had turned Claudia had taken off the helmet and goggles and her hair was flying about her face. Even with a slightly swollen lip and a graze beneath her left eye she looked incredibly beautiful as she held the flirtatious film crew at bay with an easy grace.

  He was impressed.

  He really hated having to admit it, but he was seriously impressed by her composure. He’d seen grown men throw up, cry even, with relief that it was over. That they were still alive.

  Then she saw him and her smile faded to be replaced with a tiny frown as he stepped forward to help her down. After a moment’s hesitation she put her hands on his shoulders and he gripped her waist. It fitted comfortably between his hands and as he lifted her, her hair swung forward enfolding him in some faint exotic scent that mingled with the everyday scents of clean fresh air and bruised grass that clung to her jumpsuit.

  She was tall for a woman, no featherweight as she hung momentarily above him, yet he would rather have held her than let her go. And when he set her down, his hands remained at her waist.

  She didn’t move but remained perfectly still within the circle of his arms, that tiny frown still puckering the wide space between her eyes and without thinking, Gabriel MacIntyre bent and kissed her.

  Her mouth tasted the way he knew it would, honeypot sweet, seductively so and he had a momentary sense that quite suddenly everything was right with the world. Then she stepped back, raised her hand and slapped him. Hard.

  For a moment nobody moved. Then one of the camera men grinned at him. ‘Don’t worry mate, for a small consideration we’ll edit that bit out.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  GABRIEL MacIntyre’s cornflower blue eyes darkened. It was
like a shadow crossing the sun and Claudia, heart pounding from an adrenalin rush that sent her blood zinging through her veins, saw it and was glad.

  Men kissed her at her invitation and Mr MacIntyre hadn’t been asked to the party. After what he had just put her through, he wasn’t about to be.

  She would never forget the long seconds of nightmare fall, the flashing certainty that she would never see the baby that her sister Fizz was expecting, never have a baby of her own.

  The sudden jerk of the parachute opening had come as such a shock that she had forgotten everything Tony had taught her and she’d been flailing about like an idiot when she hit the ground. Her ankle had twisted beneath her and instead of falling in the controlled roll she had been practising, she had crumpled up awkwardly and scraped her mouth against the harness, banged her cheek against the rough grass. All because Gabriel-bloody-MacIntyre had decided, for no good reason, to change her parachute at the last moment.

  And to cap it all he thought he’d take up where his precious partner had left off. Well, now he knew better.

  There was a pop and a cheer as someone opened a bottle of champagne and she turned away, taking a glass, playing up to the camera as her fellow parachutists gathered round to offer her congratulations and to these gentlemen she offered her cheek, although if her mouth hadn’t been bruised, she wouldn’t have hesitated to rub salt into Mac’s wounds.

  She sipped from the glass gingerly, the champagne fizz stinging against her lip when what she really wanted was a cup of strong, nerve-steadying tea.

  ‘Where’s Mac?’ Barty shouted from the trailer. ‘Get him in the picture somebody.’

  Claudia swivelled round defensively, her eyes daring him to come one step closer. But he hadn’t moved from the jeep. He was standing just where she had left him, very still, very contained, his whole being focussed on her. The imprint of her hand had faded from his weathered, outdoor skin more quickly than he deserved, but at least he was making no effort to join in the celebration.

  Claudia blinked, uncertainly. There was something unnerving about the man. A detachment. Although there had been nothing detached about the way he had kissed her. That had been the real thing and for a moment his look held her before she turned away, handing her glass to one of the breathless young men hanging on her every movement.

  ‘That’s enough, Barty,’ she called out. ‘I have to get back to London.’ She glanced at her poor, battered car. ‘Can you give me a lift?’

  ‘If you’re quick,’ he said, a certain stiffness betraying his irritation with her for cutting short the filming. ‘I can’t wait all day.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ Claudia muttered, under her breath. ‘The sooner I get out of this place the better.’ She turned quickly in the direction of the hangar, a move she regretted as the weight came down awkwardly on her left ankle. She stumbled and although he had been yards away a moment earlier it was Mac who caught her.

  ‘Your landing looked a bit heavy,’ he said, his face expressionless. It was impossible to tell if he was delighted by this, or merely bored. He nodded in the direction of her foot. ‘Is your ankle very painful?’ Claudia received the distinct impression that he hoped it was.

  ‘My ankle, for your information, hurts like hell but it proves I’m alive and I can assure you that there is no feeling to beat it.’

  It was possible that a spark of humour flashed briefly across his face at the intensity with which this was uttered, but she couldn’t be sure. Blue-eyes was not a man to give himself away unless thoroughly provoked and she wondered, briefly, what had provoked him into kissing her.

  ‘No assurance is necessary, Miss Beaumont, I know exactly how it feels. And anytime you’d like to repeat the experience, just give me a call.’ With considerable restraint, Claudia resisted the temptation to slap him again.

  Instead, she said, ‘Anytime I feel like repeating the experience, Mr MacIntyre, I shall go and lie down in a darkened room until I have recovered.’

  ‘I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy yourself.’

  ‘Are you? It’s odd, but I had the impression that if you could have thrown me out without a parachute you would have done it gladly.’ She tilted back her head to stare up at him. He didn’t bother to deny it, just stared right back and after a moment she lifted her shoulders in the slightest, but most speaking of shrugs.

  ‘You should have relaxed, Miss Beaumont, let yourself go. Parachuting is the nearest you’ll ever get to flying-’

  ‘When I want to fly, Mr MacIntyre, I’ll audition for Peter Pan.’

  ‘Attached to a harness?’ His scorn was undisguised.

  ‘Very firmly attached to a harness.’ She hadn’t taken her eyes from his face and now she challenged him. ‘And if parachuting is such fun why did you stay put in the safety of the plane?’ The muscles around his mouth tightened ominously, but Claudia was into her stride and didn’t wait for him to answer. ‘Tell me, Mac, why did you really change the parachute? Was it simply to frighten me?’

  ‘Frighten you? Why would I do that?’ This time she had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her even though his face didn’t betray him by so much as a crease around his eyes. ‘You were quite scared enough without any help from me.’

  She didn’t deny it. ‘Then why?’ she persisted.

  Mac, until that moment rock-steady in his regard, suddenly discovered something in need of his total attention just an inch above her head. ‘I told you,’ he said, dismissively. ‘The packing was sloppy.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  He blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Claudia did not believe she was being invited to repeat herself, although she could be wrong about that. Maybe this towering hulk of Neanderthal manhood was so stunned by the fact that she had dared to contradict him, he was finding it difficult to believe his own ears. One thing was certain however, contradicting Mr MacIntyre gained her his absolute and undivided attention. She didn’t waste it.

  ‘Are you sloppy when you pack your own parachute?’ she enquired, with rather more politeness than she considered his due under the circumstances. ‘Or do you concentrate very hard?’ Her expression encouraged him to give the matter his deepest thought. ‘I imagine you have a pretty fair idea of what would happen to you if the canopy didn’t open?’

  His face tightened. ‘Yes, I have a good idea what would happen.’

  ‘Of course you do. Well, believe it or not, I have an equally well developed sense of self preservation.’ Gabriel MacIntyre’s arm was about her waist, taking her weight as she leaned into his shoulder. It was probably the most accommodating shoulder, Claudia decided, that she had ever leaned against, broad and comforting despite the very obvious fact that comforting her was the furthest thing on this man’s mind. Her well-developed sense of self-preservation strongly advised her to remove herself from his vicinity with despatch. And she would. But first she was determined to set the record straight. ‘I took the very greatest care when I packed that parachute, Mac. And Tony didn’t take his eyes off me while I was doing it. If you don’t believe me, every minute of the operation was filmed-’

  ‘I believe it,’ he said, quickly.

  ‘So?’ she demanded, finally detaching herself from his arm and turning to face him.

  This time he resisted the urge to look somewhere else. She wondered why he found it so difficult. It wasn’t as if she was particularly hard on the eyes.

  ‘I just wanted to be sure, that’s all.’

  She stared at him for a moment. ‘Shall I tell you something, Mr MacIntyre?’ He raised no objection, so she continued. ‘I don’t believe you. I think you wanted to give me a fright and for your information you succeeded.’ With that she pushed passed him and limped across the hangar.

  ‘Claudia, how much longer are you going to be?’ Barty complained.

  ‘As long as it takes,’ she snapped. ‘Wait.’ And Barty, brought to heel like a badly behaved dog, waited while she collected her belongings, not bothering to change bac
k into her own clothes. Then, in an effort to appease her for his impatience, he clucked around her while she settled herself in his car. ‘Oh, don’t fuss so, Barty,’ she said, slapping his hand away as he fastened her seat belt and closing her eyes. ‘Just get me out of here. Fast.’

  Barty didn’t need telling twice and he reversed away from her own battered vehicle and drove off with exactly the kind of flourish that Mac had accused her of.

  Claudia pulled a little face. Men were allowed to show off, women were supposed to drive sedate little hatchbacks designed for the transportation of the average two point four children to schools, cubs, ballet classes and swimming lessons. And if that wasn’t enough, there was always the excitement of collecting the weekly shop from the supermarket. Not her style at all.

  She wasn’t domesticated, and she wasn’t in the market for a husband or a family. Except for that brief moment when she thought she would die, the idea of having a baby, a child of her own, had never crossed her mind.

  She glanced back, but Gabriel MacIntyre had already turned away, obviously more interested in the damage to his own car than whether Barty could be trusted to get her home in one piece.

  *****

  Mac kicked the tyre of the Landcruiser. Damn woman. He turned to the remains of her showy little sports car. Scarlet. Well it would be. Screaming for attention, like Claudia Beaumont. Except of course she didn’t have to do anything to attract attention. She had that tall, willowy, head-turning presence that drew every eye to her, whether they wanted to look or not.

  It was precious little wonder that Tony had fallen for it. There wasn’t any doubt that she’d be dynamite in bed. And just as dangerous. Tony was fortunate that he’d managed to convince Adele that he hadn’t got around to finding out. As it was she’d keep him on an emotional diet of bread and water until she considered that he had paid thoroughly for even thinking about it.

  No more than the idiot deserved since it was obvious that Claudia Beaumont had simply been toying with him, using the glamour she exuded to tempt him for her own amusement.