Merlyn's Magic

‘So,’ he sat across the room from her, ‘you can do magic after all.'

‘What?’ She blinked up at him, startled by the comment.

‘The meal you “conjured” up was very nice,’ Rand's voice was mocking.

She moistened her lips, relaxing slightly. ‘Thank you, but your cook did most of the work, I just defrosted.'

‘You're from London.’ It was a statement, not a question.

Merlyn instantly realised it was a mistake to ever relax around this man. ‘Yes,’ she confirmed warily.

‘Decided to get away from the rat-race for a few days, hm?’ His scornful tone told her exactly what he thought now of London and the social life there.

‘I decided I'd like a change of scenery, yes,’ she answered dryly. ‘I could have stayed there and had weather better than this.'

‘Touché.’ His mouth quirked as he glanced out of the window where the rain could still be seen and heard. ‘Are you in business in London?’ The sharpness in those silver eyes belied his relaxed state as he lounged in the armchair.

This time Merlyn was ready for the directness of his questioning, meeting that narrowed gaze steadily as she answered him. ‘No.'

Dark brows rose. ‘You're a little cagey, aren't you?’ he taunted softly.

‘No more so than you, surely?’ she challenged with cool confidence.

Rand's mouth tightened. ‘I'm not in the habit of relating my life-story to complete strangers!’ he rasped.

‘Neither am I,’ Merlyn returned softly. ‘Besides,’ she added as she sensed he was about to demand that she tell him exactly what she did in London, ‘as you've already guessed, I'm here for a break. And when I get away like this I like to forget all about my work.'

‘You're making your profession sound very mysterious.’ He sipped at the coffee she had poured him, watching her over the cup's rim.

Merlyn's movements were deliberately controlled. ‘I didn't mean to,’ she dismissed coolly.

‘It isn't the oldest profession for women, is it?’ Rand taunted, deliberately provoking her.

She suspected that women had been acting in one way or another since the beginning of time, that they were only now allowed to show they were as capable as men, but she realised that wasn't the ‘profession’ he referred to. ‘Women wouldn't need to provide that service if men didn't want it,’ she snapped waspishly. ‘It's a question of supply and demand!'

Rand eyed her angry expression with amusement. ‘You speak as if from personal experience.'

Her eyes flashed like emeralds. ‘I'm twenty-six years old, Mr Carmichael, and I've met my share of—–'

‘You know my name.’ His eyes were narrowed on her suspiciously.

She instantly realised her mistake, although years of training kept her expression bland. ‘Anne mentioned that her neighbour had to be her brother-in-law, Brandon Carmichael.'

He didn't look convinced. ‘You didn't know who I was before you came up here?'

She arched auburn brows. ‘Who are you, Mr Carmichael?’ she mocked.

Surprise widened his eyes, and then his mouth quirked self-derisively. ‘I think I deserved that!'

‘I think so, too,’ Merlyn nodded, relieved the danger seemed to have passed.

He ran an impatient hand through his hair. ‘It's just that since this damned film on Suzie has been announced I've had several reporters trying to find out who I'm sleeping with now!'

Merlyn had received her own share of bad press over the years, although nothing as personal as that. She would have felt as angry as he obviously was, would probably have felt as resentful towards the film and everyone connected with it, too.

‘You aren't a reporter, are you?’ he grated as she seemed to pale a little.

‘No,’ she laughed gratefully.

‘I hope not,’ he scowled. ‘Because rain or no rain you would be thrown out in it right now if I even suspected—–'

‘I'm not a reporter, Rand,’ she repeated firmly. ‘But I did realise who you were before Anne told me, although looking as you do now I had trouble recognising you.'

‘Looking as I do now?’ he challenged.

She shrugged. ‘The long hair and beard; they went out of fashion years ago.'

‘And when they were in fashion I was too damned busy trying to make my fortune to be able to indulge myself in such frivolity!’ He stood up. ‘But as long as you aren't some damned snooping reporter—–'

‘I can assure you I'm not,’ she said coolly.

‘Then I don't give a damn what work you do,’ he frowned. ‘Or even if you work at all!'

He was being insulting again, and Merlyn couldn't help but smile. ‘Are there still such things as “kept” women?’ she taunted.

Rand looked at her coldly. ‘I'm not impressed by women's so-called independence from men,’ he replied heatedly.

Merlyn frowned at his vehemence. ‘I don't believe I was trying to impress you,’ she snapped. ‘Some of us don't have any choice but to be independent!'

‘And how you all love it,’ he jeered.

She shook her head. ‘I don't think I know you well enough to discuss this rationally—–'

‘We aren't likely to get to know each other any better than this,’ he bit out.

‘Perhaps that's as well.’ Merlyn glared at him defiantly.

‘Perhaps it is.’ Rand's nod was abrupt. ‘Now if you'll excuse me,’ he added scornfully, ‘I have some work to attend to in my study.'

Merlyn felt the tension slowly ease from her body once he had left, aware that confrontation about her profession had only just been avoided, although at what cost. Rand had been married to a woman already well-established in her career long before they met, and yet he seemed to resent women having careers. Had their marriage not been as happy as all the stories about them had indicated? No, she couldn't believe that. A man could resent some aspect of a woman's life and still love her. She was sure Rand had loved Suzie. Just as she was sure that any ‘work’ Rand had to attend to in his study would include a bottle of brandy. A man didn't drown his sorrows in alcohol if he hadn't loved the woman he had lost.

Merlyn would have felt a little better about the precariousness of her own position here if she could have talked to Anne again on the telephone at least, but the line was still dead when she lifted the receiver to check. Probably the other woman was as worried about the situation here as Merlyn was!

Having now met Brandon Carmichael, she was surprised that the other woman had had the courage to put her sister's life-story on to paper when Suzie's husband was obviously still so bitter and upset at his loss. She knew it had to be because of Anne's affection for him that the two of them had somehow managed to remain friends, that Rand hadn't cut the other woman from his life for what she had done. Merlyn had a feeling she was going to like Anne Benton very much, knew she had to be a very special lady for Rand to have accepted her book about Suzie.

Anne's book had more or less covered her sister's life from the time she was born, her childhood here, her first love affair, her determination to become an actress against family opposition—something Merlyn could sympathise with—her success in that profession, her marriage to Brandon Carmichael. She had spared Rand nothing in the telling of the latter, had written of his feelings of inadequacy against his wife's obviously wealthy background when his childhood had been spent in an orphanage, his wealth fought for with a ruthlessness that swept many weaker men behind him. That he loved Suzie before everything else in his life had been obvious, as had Suzie's love for him. They had been the golden couple, extremely happy together, Suzie's illness and the battle she had fought to overcome it almost killing Rand too.

It was a battle Merlyn wasn't sure he had yet managed to win.