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

by Liz Fielding

  But it wasn’t. He still longed to hold her, to hear his name on her lips.

  Furious with himself, he slammed his hands flat on the desk and stood up, sending the chair crashing back. He’d had his marching orders and it was time he got on with them. He’d collect his gear from the flat and then wait until Claudia left the theatre so that he could retrieve his listening devices and the recorders from her dressing room. Under the circumstances it would be just as well if no one ever knew they had been there.

  *****

  ‘Claudia? Are you feeling quite well?’

  Melanie’s obvious concern drew Claudia from her bleak contemplation of her reflection.

  Did she feel quite well? No, she didn’t feel quite well. She didn’t feel even the teeniest bit well. She actually felt as awful as it was possible to feel and still be walking. And on stage tonight it had showed; she had been about as animated as a sleepwalker. The rest of the cast had worked twice as hard to cover for her but nothing could have disguised her lacklustre performance.

  ‘I’m sorry, Melanie. I was dreadful tonight.’

  Melanie began to protest, but she brushed her half-sister’s objections aside. ‘Don’t pretend. I know when I’m bad and tonight I was bad on a global scale.’

  ‘You’re being terribly hard on yourself.’

  ‘Am I?’

  She saw Melanie struggle briefly with the need to reassure her and the truth. The truth won. ‘We’re all entitled to an off night.’

  ‘An “off night” in the theatre isn’t quite the same as a bad day at the office, Mel. A typist could have another go at getting things right, but the people who paid good money for their seats this evening won’t come back another day to see if I’m on better form.’

  Mel sank into the basket chair beside the dressing table. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ve already done it. I called Joanna Gray during the interval. She knows the role, we’re much the same size and she can take over tomorrow for a week. There’ll be a rehearsal in the afternoon at two.’ She smiled reassuringly at Melanie. ‘You’ll like her, Mel, she’s great fun.’

  ‘She couldn’t possibly be as good as you. But I do think you’re doing the right thing, you’ve been on edge for days.’ She lifted her shoulders in a barely perceptible shrug. ‘Even before that business with the costume. Dad came home today, didn’t he? Will you go and stay with him? Or with Fizz?’

  ‘No. I’m not going to Broomhill. I haven’t actually decided where I’m going, but it’ll be a very long way from here,’ she said, with feeling. ‘Somewhere without theatres, or newspapers, or men.’

  ‘Oh, you mean a convent,’ Melanie said.

  Claudia stared at her for a moment then burst out laughing. ‘I think that might be overdoing it a bit,’ she declared, ‘but it’s a thought.’

  ‘Overdoing it? You think of somewhere else-’ Claudia held up her hands in mock surrender and Mel let her off the hook. ‘Will you be able to get out of doing publicity for the new series? You’re doing something tonight aren’t you?’

  Claudia groaned and glanced at her watch. ‘It’s too late to cancel. But as for the rest, well, I’m sure conjecture about my sudden withdrawal from society will excite the public every bit as much as my appearance on any chat show you care to name.’

  ‘Oh, Claudia!’

  ‘You don’t believe me? Watch this space, kid. You’ll see speculation on a scale that will make your teeth curl.’ She stood up. ‘Now I really must shower and get ready for my appearance on Late Date. Are you busy, or do you want to come along for the ride?’

  ‘Me? Where’s the gorgeous Gabriel MacIntyre tonight?’

  ‘Not here. Tonight or any night. I told you, darling, he just wanted the name of my insurance company.’

  ‘Sure. And I’m a wallaby’s aunt. What happened?’

  ‘Nothing that you won’t read about in tomorrow’s newspapers.’

  ‘Oh, Claudia!’

  ‘Have a care, sweetheart, you’re beginning to sound a touch repetitive. Now, are you coming with me? Or have you got something more exciting to do?’

  ‘What could be more exciting?’ Claudia gave her an old-fashioned look, but didn’t argue; she was too grateful for the company. ‘And I can’t wait to see you in your new dress.’ She glanced at the pale blue silk crepe halter-necked gown hanging over the wardrobe door, sexy but incredibly elegant.

  ‘Then you’re going to be disappointed. It was a terrible mistake, not my style at all. And you know the programme, it absolutely screams for something ... well, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I guess it’s the red dress, then?’

  ‘Give the lady a coconut, she’s won first prize.’

  *****

  It was over.

  He had removed every sign of his presence from her flat, disconnected the electronic surveillance equipment that guarded the doors and telephone and then moved on to the theatre to reclaim his bugs and recorders.

  It had been the work of moments, but he’d been glad to get out of the place. The centuries-old timbers had creaked and strained as they settled in the quiet and, although he wasn’t superstitious, it didn’t surprise him that most theatres claimed a ghost.

  He’d been startled enough himself when he’d heard a crash and a muttered curse that echoed eerily through the wings until he had realised that it had come from the lighting platform and that, on calmer reflection, he knew the voice. Phillip Redmond had said they had a problem up there and he was obviously taking the opportunity to work on it while the theatre was empty.

  He offered the man his silent apology for all the bad thoughts he’d harboured about him.

  It was over.

  Mac dumped his bag on the sofa that Adele had been occupying a few hours earlier and then noticed the light blinking on the answering machine and touched the play button.

  Adele’s voice broke the silence. ‘I’ll bring a pair of wire cutters,’ she declared, without preamble, then hung up. He smiled wryly at her defiance. He might have known his sister wouldn’t let him have the last word.

  He unpacked the bag he had carried in from the car, removing the tapes from the recorders, putting the surveillance videos to one side before returning the hardware to the secure store at the rear of his office.

  Then he considered the tapes. He ought to look at the videos, listen to recordings from the theatre. He didn’t want to, he was certain there wasn’t any point. But he couldn’t just wipe them. It wouldn’t be professional. Finish the job properly, he promised himself, and then it really would be over.

  There was a television with a VTR in the corner of the office and he crossed to it and turned it on before bending down to slot in the video.

  As he straightened he came face to face with Claudia, her lips softly parted as she laughed at something the show’s host had said to her, her hair tossed about her face in an artfully dishevelled style that made her look as if she had just tumbled out of bed, her shoulders pushed forward in an expressive shrug that offered the tantalising valley between her breasts to the camera’s greedy gaze.

  And the bright red dress that this morning hadn’t been good enough for the show, was now clinging seductively to her body as he had known it would the minute he had set eyes on the wretched thing.

  Over? While he could still remember how she felt in his arms? While he could still remember the taste of her mouth, the aching clamour of his body? Who was he kidding?

  Mac stretched out his hand to switch channels, but then something else caught his eye. The long diamond drops swinging from her ears as she tilted her head to laugh at something the man sitting next to her was saying. Were they really fake diamonds? For a fake temptress? What else?

  He snapped the button, unable to bear it as she flirted with the men around her and the screen fizzed temporarily before the recording began to roll.

  It was not the usual kind of security video used by stores; flat, black and white and so fuzzy that it had little real us
e except as a deterrent. His equipment was concealed, it recorded in good quality colour and anyone who came close enough to be picked up would be identified.

  Most of the comings and goings were the tenants of the block. He and Claudia were the first to make a move, just before six. After that it was quiet for a while, Claudia lived in a fairly quiet side street and there was just the occasional passing pedestrian. A few cars and delivery vans.

  Nothing.

  He ran the second tape. A messenger came with a package for Claudia. Kay Abercrombie signed for it. Then a taxi drew up and Claudia got out. She stared after it for a long time until Kay called her. And when she turned, she looked ... unhappy. Something inside him twisted painfully. He didn’t want her to be unhappy.

  Then as she disappeared inside the building he called himself every kind of a fool.

  Nothing else happened. Then he stopped the film. There was a van parked on the other side of the road, the driver, wearing a deeply peaked baseball cap that hid his face, was just sitting behind the wheel. How long had he been there?

  He rewound the tape.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘DARLING, you were sensational!’

  Claudia barely stopped herself from flinching as Charley Long, the host of Late Date, kissed her effusively on both cheeks. He might think she had been sensational, she knew that she had been outrageous.

  She had flirted with the show’s host, she had flirted with the other guests, she had exposed more bosom than she cared to think about and had lived up to her image, or down to it, depending on your point of view with a fervour that now the show was over made her feel positively sick. And to make matters worse Melanie was looking at her as if she was a stranger, someone she didn’t know any more.

  It was hardly surprising. Claudia scarcely recognised herself. But since being herself didn’t seem to impress anyone half so much as being the person they all seemed to think she was, did it matter?

  ‘We’re going on to a party, darling,’ Charley was saying. ‘You are going to come aren’t you?’

  ‘A party?’ The last thing on earth she felt like doing was going to a party. But she didn’t want to go home either because when she got home everything of Gabriel would be gone. Her apartment would feel empty in a way that it never had in all the time she had lived there alone. ‘Fantastic!’ She turned a blinding smile on Melanie. ‘What about you, Mel, do you want to come along?’

  ‘It’s awfully late, Claud,’ Mel said doubtfully. ‘Don’t you think you ought to go home?’

  Her sister’s pretty face was creased in concern but Claudia didn’t want anyone to be concerned about her. ‘No one is forcing you to come, darling,’ she said, just a touch sharply.

  Darling. Could that false tone be catching, she wondered, from some cold miserable spot deep inside her, along with the shallow posturing, the pretence? Did it even matter since it was simply a game and no one was fooled by it, no one hurt by it? Only the real thing could hurt. She was just beginning to understand how much.

  Charley slid his arm around Claudia’s waist and pulled her against him. She hated the feel of his soft hand squeezing her waist, hated the overpowering muskiness of his after-shave. Hated everything about him that was so different from the hard-edged physique, the outdoors scent of Gabriel. But Gabriel didn’t want her.

  Gabriel thought she was capable of lying and cheating and anything was better than facing that, facing up to the fact that she would never see him again, never be held as if she was something special, never know what it would be like to love someone who loved you in return.

  So she let Charley in on her smile. ‘I’m sure this dear man will look after me. Won’t you, darling?’ she prompted.

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ he murmured, reassuringly.

  Melanie was not reassured. ‘Do you really want to go? I just thought-’ But Claudia didn’t want to hear what she thought.

  ‘Don’t think, Mel.’ Claudia leaned forward to lightly touch her sister’s creased forehead with the pad of her forefinger, using the opportunity to ease herself out of Charley’s clutches. ‘Thinking will give you wrinkles.’ And looping her free arm through Melanie’s she squeezed it. ‘Just for an hour, um?’

  ‘Just an hour, then,’ Melanie agreed, giving in with a barely perceptible shrug. ‘Someone had better come along and look after you.’

  *****

  It was nearer three hours later when they pulled up outside Melanie’s flat. ‘Why don’t you stay with me tonight, Claud?’ Mel glanced meaningfully at the young man driving the car, but Claudia was apparently oblivious to the hint that it might be advisable to shake off her amorous companion while she could.

  ‘I’ll be fine. This sweet boy will see me to my door and he shall kiss my hand for his gallantry. Off you go, now. I want to see you inside before we drive away.’

  Mel gave up and Claudia breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her. ‘Now, James. Home, I think.’

  ‘My name isn’t James, it’s Nigel.’ There was a touch of petulance in his voice and Claudia turned and stared at him. She loathed men who took themselves too seriously. Especially when they were young and rather silly men who had done nothing to justify their seriousness. Under her disparaging scrutiny he suddenly discovered a need to clear his throat. ‘Of course, if you prefer James ...’ he conceded, with something that in a girl would have been described as a giggle.

  She didn’t even bother to answer. He’d given her a lift home because he’d wanted to be seen leaving the party with Claudia Beaumont. Well, he’d been seen and he’d been photographed and if he was lucky he might get his photograph in the newspapers. If that wasn’t enough, he’d discover that sometimes charity had to be its own reward.

  ‘Just down here on the left,’ she said, and sensing that he was about to pounce, she had her hand on the door even as they pulled up. But the door was wrenched from her hand and she almost fell out as it was opened without ceremony from the other side. ‘What the-?’ she began, but never finished her furious demand as two strong hands caught her and hauled her out of the car, dumping her onto the pavement. Then she was looking up into the blazing eyes of one seriously angry man.

  ‘Where the hell have you been, Claudia?’ Mac demanded, giving her a sharp little shake. She didn’t care about that. All she cared about was that he’d realised his mistake and he’d come back. That he was waiting for her.

  Her heart was racketing with excitement, with something so close to joy that she couldn’t bear to trust it, refused to trust it.

  ‘Gabriel, how unexpected,’ she murmured, her attempt at indifference somewhat marred by the tremulous shake in her voice. ‘I thought you’d already said everything this afternoon.’

  ‘Did you? Then you were wrong. I’ve been waiting here for hours.’

  ‘On the pavement? Don’t tell me you were defeated by your own locks? Or did Kay take your warning to heart and refuse to let you in this time?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Claudia, I’ve been worried sick about you. Where have you been?’

  Worried? The joy swelled. He’d be worried sick about her.

  ‘I’ve been to a party. After the show. The chat show, that is. You’d have enjoyed it.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ He looked so fierce, deep lines chiselled into his cheeks, his brows drawn down in a dark line. Did it mean that he was jealous? If it had been anyone else she would have enjoyed his discomfort, but she didn’t want Gabriel to be jealous, she wanted him to know that she loved him, she just didn’t know the right words because she’d never told anyone that before.

  ‘James very kindly brought me home.’ She indicated the agitated young man who was practically hopping from foot to foot behind her, not knowing quite what to do, but certain he should be doing something and this gave him his opportunity.

  ‘Look here,’ he began. Then, squaring up to Gabriel, he said, ‘You can’t just-’

  But Gabriel was not impressed. ‘I can and I will. It was good of you
to see Claudia safely home, James, but we won’t keep you,’ he said, without ceremony and taking Claudia’s elbow he urged her towards the front door.

  ‘My name is not James.’ He trailed, somewhat petulantly, after them. ‘It’s Nigel, Nigel Thomas.’

  Mac glared at him, clearly thinking the man was quite mad. ‘Well goodnight, Nigel Thomas,’ he said, without breaking his stride. And when they reached the door, he turned the searchlight of his attention on Claudia. ‘So,’ he began, ‘tell me about David Hart.’

  ‘David?’ He was jealous. Claudia, hands shaking, knees giving a fair imitation of warm jelly as she retrieved her keys from her bag, glanced up at him.

  Gabriel took the keys from her and opened the front door. ‘Yes, David. Is he your press agent? Or just an obliging friend?’

  She just hated the way he said “friend”. It gave her a very bad feeling. The day had been long and stressful and despite that initial leap of pleasure at seeing him, she had a terrible feeling that it was about a get a lot worse.

  ‘I thought you’d already made your mind up about that.’

  But he wasn’t interested in what she thought. ‘Tell me, Claudia. Am I just being made a fool of here, or should I be worrying about you?’

  Suddenly his anger seemed far more important than the fact that he was standing on her doorstep at three in morning, desperate to see her because he was worried about her. And it occurred to her that he wasn’t angry because she’d arrived home late with another man. He was angry with her full stop.

  The bad feeling was more than justified, she decided. The rush of warmth that had swept through her at seeing him, at hearing him say how worried he had been as he waited for her to come home, ebbed away leaving her chilled right to the bone.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Gabriel. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.’ After all what was the odd nasty letter compared to someone telling you face to face that they thought you were a liar, a fraud? Someone you loved. ‘And as it’s been a very long day,’ she observed, ‘you’ll understand that I have no wish to stand here on the doorstep playing your silly games-’