Читать книгу Wildest Dreams - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

‘PALFREY’ recovered from the unexpected encounter a lot quicker than Arabella did, his eyes narrowing questioningly as he looked at her warily. Well, it wasn’t surprising he had got over his amazement quicker than her, he hadn’t just been confronted with a live, flesh-and-blood hero—more flesh than blood!

Arabella had been instrumental in commissioning the illustrations for the covers of the Palfrey books—and if she had met this man beforehand, and given the illustrator a description of him, she couldn’t have been more accurate. He—

‘Who the hell are you?’ he suddenly rasped, the harshness of his voice bringing her out of her dazed stupor.

Although not enough to actually be able to answer him, as she was still tongue-tied by all this glistening male beauty. He was beautiful, completely secure in his own maleness. And so he should be. He—

‘Daisy, May—heel!’ he instructed the dogs tersely, and the two animals trotted obediently over to sit at his feet, salivating for a different reason now as they gazed up at him, adoringly.

Arabella knew how they felt; she could cheerfully have sat at his feet and done the same thing herself. He was real! Robert Palfrey, alive, and standing just feet away from her.

‘I asked you a question,’ he rasped again. Those deep blue eyes narrowed flintily as he stood almost protectively in front of the house and its occupants.

‘Daisy and May?’ Arabella mused, aware that she still wasn’t answering his question as to who she was. But she found the names of the dogs so incongruous for two such fierce-looking creatures. They were obviously guard dogs, and yet it was doubtful that calling them Daisy and May would put the fear of God into anybody. Stephen would be mortified when she told him he had run away from Daisy and May!

‘Palfrey’s’ mouth tightened at her slightly mocking tone. ‘Don’t be fooled by the names,’ he bit out sharply. ‘They guard what they’re meant to guard!’

Merlin! Arabella realised, her mind suddenly returning to exactly why she was here. Coming face to face with this man had just thrown her totally.

‘I’m sure they do,’ she dismissed smoothly. ‘I’m actually here because I have a business appointment with Mr—er—Merlin,’ she amended awkwardly, peering around ‘Palfrey’ to where the elderly man still sat on the veranda.

Those deep blue eyes narrowed even more. ‘You do?’ He sounded sceptical.

Didn’t she look the part? She had checked her appearance very carefully before she’d left the house this morning to drive down here. Admittedly, the jacket of her dark grey pinstriped suit was still in the car at the end of the driveway, but, even so, the smart white blouse and straight skirt that reached just above her knees, the neutral-coloured tights and moderately heeled black shoes were surely quite businesslike? Her hair was in its usual bun at her nape, her glasses rested firmly on the bridge of her nose; in what way didn’t she look the part?

‘I do,’ she assured the younger man briskly, recovering a little now from the shock of actually meeting the real, live Palfrey; after all, she wasn’t here to see this man at all, but the elderly one seated behind him. Having got this far without actually being thrown out, she intended to make the most of her opportunity. Especially since she had been so angry with her father and Stephen two days ago; it would be too humiliating if she ended up being treated the same way. ‘I wrote to him and told him of my arrival this afternoon,’ she added pointedly, wishing he would get out of the way so that she might speak to Merlin himself.

The younger man scowled frowningly. ‘You did?’

Much as she had initially been bowled over by this man’s devastatingly good looks, she was now starting to find this conversation with him irksome. After all, it was Merlin she had come here to talk to, not his gardener! ‘If I could just have a few private words with Merlin.’ She tried to look around the younger man to where his elderly employer sat listening to them unconcernedly.

‘Concerning what?’ the young man prompted tersely.

There was something very odd going on here. Merlin hadn’t spoken a word since her arrival, and the blond man was distinctly hostile; surely the gardener was overstepping his duties by speaking for his employer in this way? Unless he also acted as security guard to the older man? But even so...! ‘My name is Atherton—’

‘It’s the publisher, boyo.’ The elderly man spoke for the first time, his voice gravelly, as if he didn’t use it very often. He stood up, moving to stand beside the younger man, the two of them looking slightly ridiculous together, one so tall and golden, the other shrivelled with age. ‘Is that right, miss?’

‘Quite correct.’ She nodded in confirmation, at last feeling as if she was making some sort of progress. ‘I wrote to you—’

‘You’re A. Atherton?’ Again it was the younger man who spoke to her.

Irritation flickered in her eyes as she gave him a brief glance. ‘Arabella Atherton, yes,’ she dismissed impatiently, looking at Merlin with some surprise as he began to chuckle throatily. The chuckle soon became a fully fledged cackle.

What was so funny about her name? Admittedly it sounded as if it came from another century, but her mother had loved to read historical novels, her father often saying he thought his wife would rather have been born in earlier times. But, even though Arabella had found her name a bit of an encumbrance when she was younger, she now found it rather attractive. It was certainly different.

‘I realise the two of us have never been formally introduced.’ She held out her hand, taking a couple of steps closer to Merlin, careful of the dogs as they began to growl low in their throats. ‘But we have been writing to each other for the last five years.’ She smiled warmly. ‘I’m Arabella Atherton. And you’re—’

‘Andrew, the gardener.’ The chuckling had stopped, although the elderly man still grinned his amusement. ‘The aged family retainer,’ he added pointedly.

‘Your age only comes into it when it comes to uprooting stubborn tree stumps,’ the younger man said dryly. ‘The rest of the time you take pleasure in telling me how fit you are!’

‘But I am, boy.’ Andrew grinned at him before turning back to Arabella. ‘He’s Merlin.’ He nodded in the direction of the man Arabella had come to regard as Palfrey.

This young man, his muscular body still glistening and golden after the exertion from his efforts with the tree stump, a man who might have posed for the Palfrey book covers himself, was actually the author of those books? Merlin was Palfrey? No, Palfrey was Merlin! The two were one and the same person?

The elderly gardener chuckled again as Arabella and Merlin stared at each other. ‘I think you may have come as much of a surprise to her as she has to you, boy,’ he murmured wryly.

Merlin’s mouth tightened, his gaze flinty as it swept scathingly over her businesslike appearance. ‘I had assumed A. Atherton was a man,’ he finally acknowledged contemptuously.

He wasn’t pleased to discover his editor was actually a woman, Arabella realised, her cheeks becoming flushed.

‘I think the two of you made some erroneous assumptions concerning each other.’ The elderly gardener still sounded amused by the situation.

Merlin shot him a look of irritation. ‘Go and ask Stella to put the kettle on, and we’ll all have a cup of tea.’

‘Certainly, sir.’ Andrew pulled on an imaginary forelock. ‘Right away, sir.’ He nodded before turning to walk around the side of the house, disappearing into what Arabella assumed must be the kitchen.

Merlin’s irritation had deepened to a scowl. ‘I think I’ve allowed him too much familiarity over the years,’ he muttered with a shake of his head.

Familiarity breeding contempt? Somehow she didn’t think so. The two men obviously liked and respected each other very much; an easy affection existed between the two.

‘A cup of tea would be very welcome, thank you,’ she said, smoothly changing the subject. And it wasn’t a lie either; she had been driving for several hours and a cup of tea certainly wouldn’t come amiss.

He frowned across at her and then reached down to the ground to pick up a pale blue denim shirt, pulling it on over the wide width of his shoulders before buttoning it up the front.

Arabella’s breath left her in a gentle sigh. She hadn’t even been aware she was actually holding it until that moment, able to breathe a little easier now that Merlin was more formally attired. Although she was still stunned at his physical likeness to his character. She was always advising would-be authors to write about what they knew, but it was the first time she had actually found that the author and the hero of his books were one and the same person!

‘I told your husband the other day that we have nothing to talk about,’ he bit out coldly.

It took Arabella a couple of seconds to realise exactly whom he was referring to. ‘Stephen is my brother,’ she corrected him, smiling at the thought of someone like Stephen being her husband; there were only two years’ difference in their ages, but to her Stephen had always been a child. He had done nothing since joining the company to make her think any differently of him.

Merlin regarded her thoughtfully, head tilted to one side. ‘There’s no family resemblance,’ he finally murmured ruefully.

She knew that, had always been aware of the fact that Stephen had inherited their father’s undoubted good looks, whereas she—well, she wasn’t sure who she resembled! She wasn’t like her tiny, beautiful mother. She wasn’t exactly plain, but she certainly wasn’t a beauty either. She seemed to fall short, somewhere in the middle of the two, not ugly, but having nothing remarkable about her features.

More than one man in the past had assumed that, as in the movies, if her hair were loosened and her glasses removed she would suddenly be transformed into a beauty. Those men had been bitterly disappointed! Her red hair was indeed a beautiful colour, but released about her shoulders it took on a will of its own, becoming completely unmanageable. And without her glasses her eyes ceased to be big, blue and intelligent, surrounded by dark lashes, and simply became myopic; it was obvious at a glance that she was as blind as a bat. So much for the transformation!

‘I can assure you, he is my brother,’ she replied without rancour. After all, she was what she was. ‘I can only apologise for the way he just turned up here unannounced a couple of days ago,’ she added with a frown. ‘I wasn’t aware he had done so until he arrived back at the office.’

‘Spitting fire at my rough handling of him, no doubt,’ Merlin guessed—accurately!—a wry twist to his lips.

Arabella smiled in return. ‘To put it mildly,’ she acknowledged.

The dark blue eyes narrowed. ‘And now you’ve been sent to calm the troubled waters,’ he derided mockingly.

‘I haven’t been “sent” anywhere.’ She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I’m hoping that the only troubled waters we have are those back at the office; I left my father and brother in no doubt as to how I felt about their interference in our relationship,’ she explained grimly, having assured her father before she left this morning that if she couldn’t straighten this situation out he was going to hear more on the subject.

‘“Our relationship”?’ Merlin echoed softly.

She could feel the heat in her cheeks at the obvious mockery in his tone. ‘That of author and editor,’ she clarified sharply. ‘I—’

‘Tea’s ready, boy,’ Andrew called from the house.

‘Perhaps Miss Atherton has decided not to stop for tea,’ Merlin returned dryly, although his gaze remained firmly fixed on Arabella.

‘Of course she wants tea, boy,’ the gardener admonished tauntingly. ‘Do you think she’s driven all the way down here to be sent away without even a cup of tea?’

Arabella knew that her father would agree with Merlin’s earlier remarks about Andrew’s familiarity; the servants at their family home were rarely seen, never heard, and the household ran like clockwork. But it was obvious that these two were more than employer/employee, that they had a friendship that seemed to go back years. Merlin should consider himself blessed, not cursed, she thought.

‘Tea would be lovely,’ she accepted lightly; at least she was going to get inside the house! ‘Although perhaps I should go and get my bag and lock the car up before I do that,’ she added thoughtfully.

This might not be London, but she still didn’t want to leave her bag in an unlocked car some distance from the house. When she’d arrived earlier she had thought it best not to have anything in her hands that might look in the least threatening. But she had some paperwork in the car that she would need if she were to talk to Merlin.

‘Will the dogs be OK now?’ She still hesitated about making any sudden moves in their presence.

Merlin eyed her with a scowl. ‘You took a risk earlier, just getting out of your car like that.’

It had either been that or turn tail and run, as her brother had done. After her contemptuous anger towards the two male members of her family, she’d had no intention of doing that. Although she had a feeling that might have been the reason Merlin had left them loose in the first place...!

‘I won’t be a minute,’ she assured him lightly.

‘No hurry,’ he dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. ‘Just make your way back to the house when you’re ready.’ He turned towards the house, the two dogs trailing obediently at his heels.

Arabella gave a rueful smile to herself as she walked back to her car. Although things had certainly changed since her father had first taken over Atherton Publishing twenty years ago, a time when the publisher had wielded the power, most of their authors were nevertheless still thrilled at a visit from their editor. Merlin had made it obvious her being here was just an inconvenience to him. But then, he was one of the best-selling authors of today and would immediately be snapped up by another publishing company if he were to find they were invading his privacy.

After collecting her bag, she made her way into the house by the same way the gardener and Merlin had, finding herself walking straight into the kitchen. The two men were seated at a solid oak table that dominated the centre of the spacious room, while a lady in her sixties provided them with tea, cakes and scones. The latter looked mouth-wateringly home-made, but after her long drive Arabella had to admit it was the tea she was most interested in.

‘My wife, Stella.’ Andrew introduced her as Arabella came hesitantly into the room. ‘This is Rob’s publisher, Stella,’ he explained with relish, obviously still greatly amused that his employer’s editor had turned out to be a woman.

Arabella had hoped to discover what Merlin’s first name was; after all, not everyone could call him ‘boy’. Especially as he must be in his late thirties. Rob? She looked at him sharply. Could it be that his name was Robert, like his hero? He didn’t seem about to tell her!

‘Please call me Stella,’ the housekeeper invited warmly as she placed a steaming cup of tea on the table in front of Arabella, having seated her beside Merlin.

‘Arabella,’ she returned lightly, before gratefully sipping at the tea.

‘What a pretty name,’ the housekeeper said spontaneously. ‘Sounds like one of your heroines, Rob.’ She smiled at her employer; she was a small, plump woman, with hair almost as white as her husband’s, and brown eyes that twinkled as much too. Obviously this was a happy household, even if their employer was more than a little taciturn.

Merlin grunted at the comment, his gaze fixed morosely on the bottom of his teacup as he drank from it. Physically, Arabella acknowledged, he looked just like his hero, Palfrey, although there were no laughter-lines on this man’s face, no warmth or humour in his blue eyes, something the Palfrey character had in abundance. But Merlin wrote the Palfrey books, so he must be possessed of a sense of humour. Mustn’t he...? Not when it came to unwanted visits from his editor, obviously!

Suddenly he stood up abruptly. ‘Shall we take our tea and go through to my study?’ He looked at her with coldly compelling eyes.

‘Of course,’ Arabella agreed; at least he was going to talk to her. It was a step further than Stephen had got, and that had to be better than nothing. She directed an apologetic smile at the elderly couple as Merlin instantly turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Arabella with no choice but to follow him. She wasn’t apologising for Merlin’s behaviour—the couple must be used to that by now—she was apologising for not doing justice to the afternoon tea the housekeeper had provided; Merlin hadn’t given her time!

His study was like that of so many other authors she had seen: the desk was the dominating feature, a large leather-topped mahogany one in this case, behind it a bookcase full of reference books. The only difference she could see in this room was the lack of a word processor; most authors used them nowadays. But Merlin’s, manuscripts were always neatly presented, so he had to have one somewhere, making her wonder if this was actually the room that he used to work in.

‘Sit down,’ he invited curtly, already seated across the desk from her himself, the dogs on either side of him.

Now Arabella knew what it felt like to be a prospective published author seated across from her in her own office: a bit like being back at school and being hauled before the headmaster for some misdemeanour. And the dogs definitely added to the feeling of menace in the room. As the seconds, and then minutes, passed once she had sat down, that feeling didn’t diminish!

‘I take it you did receive my letter?’ Arabella was finally the one to speak.

‘Yes,’ he confirmed harshly, leaning back in his high-backed leather chair to look at her with narrowed eyes.

‘So my being here isn’t unexpected?’ she persisted determinedly; remembering the dogs and the open gates, she knew damn well it wasn’t!

‘A. Atherton’s presence here isn’t unexpected,’ he acknowledged coldly. ‘Your presence...’ He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I had no idea the A stood for Arabella.’

Or he would have asked for another editor years ago, the accusing statement implied. Did the fact she was a woman mean she wasn’t a good editor?

‘I had no idea your first name was Robert, either,’ she said lightly, but just as pointedly.

He was silent again for several long seconds, and then his mouth twisted wryly. ‘Touché.’ He nodded in acknowledgement of the challenge in her voice.

It was strange, really, but here, in the privacy of his study, Robert Merlin had taken on an even more familiar appearance. Of course he reminded her of his hero, Palfrey, but there was something else too, a definite feeling that she had seen him before somewhere. But where? And surely she would have remembered it if she had? With his golden good looks, and powerfully attractive face, he was a man who would be very difficult to forget Yet she knew she had seen him before somewhere, knew—

She straightened in her chair as she realised she was staring at him, and that he was returning that stare with questioning eyes. ‘Sorry.’ She blushed ruefully. ‘It’s just—you aren’t quite what I was expecting either.’ That had to be the understatement of the year! ‘But then we’ve agreed the feeling is mutual,’ she added briskly as she sensed a sarcastic reply was about to leave his lips. She put down her empty teacup. ‘I have some papers in my bag for you to look at—

‘If it’s about the filming of Palfrey, then I’m not interested,’ he interrupted harshly.

Arabella looked up from picking up her bag. ‘You can’t possibly know that until you’ve seen what the film company has to offer,’ she pointed out gently, not wanting to antagonise him further but at the same time aware of just how lucrative the film contract could be for him. For Atherton Publishing, too, she acknowledged ruefully, sure that he would lose no time in pointing that out.

It was obvious, from this house and the presence of the elderly couple who worked for him, that he was comfortably off. And she knew better than most how much money he earned from the Palfrey books. But the film company was talking major money for this author. It would be slightly reckless on his part, she felt, to say no to the idea without even looking at the contract...

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Palfrey would become a Hollywood caricature—with all the hype that goes along with it!’ he dismissed easily.

Arabella took out the offending contract before snapping shut her bag. ‘I’m sure the film company will be completely open to negotiation about your own amount of involvement in things.’ After his obvious reluctance to talk to them at all, they seemed agreeable to any terms he cared to make! ‘With a contract to match,’ she added encouragingly.

‘A contract they would instantly break, if and when it suited them to do so,’ he returned scornfully.

‘Of course they wouldn’t!’ she gasped indignantly.

‘Just how many Hollywood contracts have you, or your publishing company, been involved in, Miss Atherton?’ he said tauntingly.

Atherton Publishing was not that sort of publishing company; had made its name and money mainly from educational books. It had been Arabella who had introduced successful contemporary fiction to the list, and Merlin was definitely her most successful author to date. A fact which, looking at the intelligence in those blue eyes, she had a feeling Robert Merlin was completely conversant with!

‘How many have you?’ she returned somewhat tartly, knowing she was getting nowhere with this man.

The mockery left his face as his expression hardened once again, a tense stillness settling over his muscular frame. ‘I don’t have—’

‘Daddy, I’m in the swimming team!’ The study door had burst open, and the excited statement had come from the young lady who stood framed in the open doorway.

Despite her considerable height, she was young, Arabella realised, probably about thirteen or fourteen, poised on the brink of womanhood. Raven-black hair fell silkily past her shoulders, her glowingly lovely face had none of that puppy-fat that could be so annoying at her age, and her body was tall and slender, with the promise of curves yet to come. In another couple of years she was going to be a stunningly beautiful woman.

And she had called Merlin ‘Daddy’...

Arabella looked at him with new eyes. There was a Mrs Merlin somewhere, then...?

It was ridiculous of her to feel surprised, even faintly disappointed. Robert Merlin must be the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life; of course there would be a woman in his life, possibly even a wife. The latter was not just a possibility; the existence of his daughter was proof of that.

‘Daddy, did you hear what I said?’

‘Of course I heard you, Emma,’ he acknowledged indulgently. ‘But can’t you see we have a guest?’ He gave a pointed look in Arabella’s direction.

Eyes the same deep blue as her father’s suddenly became shy as the young girl looked at Arabella. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured ruefully. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I couldn’t wait to tell Daddy my good news,’ she added determinedly.

Arabella smiled her sympathy, remembering occasions when she had rushed home to tell her own father equally exciting news from school. Unfortunately, it had only been exciting to her, her father listening with a complete lack of interest. Although Robert Merlin didn’t look uninterested; it was just that she happened to be taking up his time at the moment.

She smiled at the young girl. ‘I’m sure your news takes precedence over anything I have to talk to your father about,’ she assured her lightly.

‘What are you and Daddy talking about?’ Emma asked guilelessly, moving to perch her bottom on the side of her father’s desk.

‘Emma!’ her father reproved abruptly.

Arabella couldn’t help laughing softly at the young girl’s unrepentant expression. ‘I’m from your father’s publishing company, and—’

‘A. Atherton?’ The deep blue eyes glowed interestedly.

Robert Merlin sat up straighter in his chair behind his desk. ‘And exactly what do you know about A. Atherton?’ he said slowly.

Emma grinned at Arabella, completely unabashed by her father’s grim expression. ‘Are you A. Atherton?’ she persisted. ‘I always had a feeling you might be a woman.’

‘And just why the hell did you feel that?’ her father demanded impatiently.

She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘Just the tone of the letters.’

‘And what sort of tone might that have been?’ Robert Merlin frowned at his daughter in complete bafflement.

The young girl grinned unconcernedly. ‘Unfailingly polite and reasoning—even when you were at your rudest!’ She gave her father a mischievously teasing look. ‘I always thought another man would have given you back as good as you gave.’

Her father looked outraged. ‘I was never rudel’

Emma Merlin gave Arabella a conspiratorial grit mace. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find that you were, Daddy. Although I’m sure Miss Atherton forgave you,’ she added soothingly as he still looked furious at the accusation.

Arabella was impressed with the maturity of this young girl. And her perception! Her own father and Stephen had often been incensed by this man’s fanatical wish for privacy—as witnessed by the blundering way Stephen had tried to force his way in here two days ago! Arabella had always respected that wish for privacy, often diverting the attention of the media away from this popular author.

It was a view her father and Stephen didn’t share. In their opinion, if Merlin wanted the glory—and the money!—his writing brought, then he also had to accept some of the negative aspects, and that included interest in his private life. To her father it wasn’t a negative aspect anyway...

Yes, Emma was right; if Merlin’s editor had been either her father or Stephen, then he would have been handled very differently.

‘Of course,’ Arabella confirmed smoothly.

Robert Merlin looked far from pleased at the slightly patronising air the two females seemed to have adopted towards him, his blue eyes flinty and cold. ‘I was not—’

‘Your father is such a wonderful writing talent,’ Arabella continued conversationally to Emma. ‘He could be forgiven most things.’

‘Except killing off Palfrey,’ Emma returned disgustedly. ‘That has to be the silliest thing—’

‘Emma!’ her father exploded. ‘Will you kindly shut up?’ He glared at her fiercely.

Arabella looked from father to daughter, Emma appearing stubbornly determined in the face of her father’s anger. But it was to Robert Merlin that Arabella turned her full attention. She couldn’t have heard Emma properly.

He couldn’t possibly be thinking of killing off Palfrey!