Читать книгу Lady Love - Diana Palmer - Страница 9

Chapter Three

Lila scribbled on a yellow legal pad and Amanda played quietly with a doll, while Merlyn dug into several volumes of information on the Tudors. But her mind was wandering, tugged away unwillingly by the conversation she’d had with Cameron earlier.

My, my, wouldn’t Cameron Thorpe’s eyes bulge if he could see her as she really was? She pursed her lips and fantasized about coming down the staircase of her father’s town house in her white Bill Blass original with her blue fox boa draped lovingly over her bare shoulders, her hair in a high coiffure with a diamond tiara, and her mother’s diamond necklace and earrings gracing her milky complexion.…

She shook herself. Why destroy his illusions? Let him think what he liked.

“You said the history of the English Kings had always fascinated you. Why?” Lila asked, interrupting Merlyn’s mental wanderings.

She almost told the older woman the truth—that her own family history could be traced back to the time of the Plantagenets and Tudors. But that would be giving away far too much.

“Actually, I had a cousin who was British,” she said. Well, it was the truth.

“One you had a crush on?” Lila pursued.

Merlyn pursed her lips and smiled, thinking about that cousin—Richard the Lion-Hearted—and the dashing picture he made in fact and fiction. “You might say that,” she agreed.

“You must tell me all about him one day.” Lila sighed as she studied her notes. “This is going to be quite a feat when I really get started. I’ve only just roughed out the main characters. Merlyn, I’m fascinated by Uncle Jasper.”

“The one who was responsible for Henry VII’s accession to the throne?” Merlyn laughed delightedly. “I’m finding great material on him. During the War of the Roses, he took his brother’s widow, Margaret Beaumont, to his own castle at Pembroke and provided for her while she gave birth to his nephew Henry, who was to become Henry VII—father of Henry VIII. Jasper lost his fortune in the War of the Roses, conducted something of a commando campaign against the Yorks and eventually rescued Henry Tudor from them. Henry, you see, was the last surviving male of the Lancastrian line. Their great enemies were the Yorks. Those were the two factions that fought the War of the Roses.

“But to get back to Jasper, he and Henry spent quite a while imprisoned in Brittany until the death of Edward IV, whose sons were captured by Richard III—remember him? Anyway, a faction arose to support Henry’s bid for the throne, with the help of some political maneuvering by his mother, Margaret Beaumont. Uncle Jasper helped to raise an army, which marched finally into battle against Richard III. Richard was killed after a valiant defense, and Henry married Edward IV’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, uniting the Lancasters and Yorks and ending the War of the Roses.”

Lila caught her breath. “You do have it down pat, don’t you?”

“Not nearly as well as I’d like to,” Merlyn confessed. “There are a lot of questions about Jasper that I haven’t found answers to yet. But he seems to have lived to a ripe old age and regained his fortunes.”

Lila pursed her lips and frowned. She tapped her pencil on the legal pad. “What a fascinating man. Do you suppose…” Her eyes cut sideways.

“Why not?” Merlyn grinned. “A fictional character patterned after him would be a natural. And the period is fascinating, as you’ll see when we get further into it. I’m getting so caught up in it that I actually feel as if I can experience it in my mind.”

“You should try writing,” Lila told her. “I feel the same way about my fictional people and the periods they inhabit. This is the first time I’ve dabbled in this particular period of English history, but I’m delighted that we discovered each other.”

“So am I,” came the fervent reply. “I’m enjoying it more than I can tell you.”

“I’m very glad.”

“I’ve been a fan of yours for years,” Merlyn told the older woman. “I do so enjoy the love scenes,” she confessed sheepishly.

Lila laughed. “And I still do them blindfolded, because they embarrass me so!” she confessed.

“I’ll bet they don’t embarrass Miss Forrest,” came a deep, unpleasant voice from the walkway between the rose garden and the patio.

Merlyn looked up with arched eyebrows. “Is that wishful thinking?” she asked conversationally, “because you’d like to do one with me? Well, Mr. Rochester, you’re not bad-looking at all, but, honestly, I did come up here to work,” she told him with a sly smile.

His eyes got darker. He was wearing a green pullover knit designer shirt with tan slacks, and despite his size he looked trim and elegant. “Are you ever serious?”

“When I balance my bank statement. It’s enough to make me grim,” she lied.

“Did you want something, dear?” Lila asked before the conversation had a chance to deteriorate even more.

Reluctantly, he shifted his gaze to his mother. “Delle and Charlotte are on their way up. I thought you’d like to know before they walked in. They can only stay overnight. Delle has to fly to France in the morning to join her brother in Nice for a few days.”

“Lovely place, Nice,” Merlyn sighed. “Blue skies, white beaches…”

“How would you know?” Cameron scoffed.

Oops, she thought, smiling to conceal her lapse. “You don’t believe that I might spend holidays there?” she asked innocently.

“I do not,” he said bluntly, and his stare told her that he didn’t think she could afford a bus ticket to Atlanta, much less a plane ticket to France.

She shrugged. “Well, then, I won’t bore you with tales of summers in my father’s villa there.”

He ignored her. “I’ve asked Tilly to go to extra pains for dinner this evening,” he continued. “And we’ll dress. Charlotte and Delle are used to proper attire at dinner.” He gave Merlyn a hard look. “They’re from Charleston. Old money.”

Merlyn let her jaw drop to show that she was suitably impressed.

“I would appreciate it, Miss Forrest,” he added, “if you could manage to control your rather unusual sense of humor during the visit. The Radners are rather special to me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, sir, I know my place,” Merlyn assured him.

He looked as if he’d never smiled. Poor man, she thought, probably he never had. She wondered what he was like in bed. He probably was less adventurous than Merlyn, and Merlyn was a virgin. She grinned at the thought of Cameron without clothes.

“When I said dress,” he added, “I meant formal dress.”

“I have this neat sweat shirt with lace on it.…” Merlyn began.

“But, Cameron,” Lila was protesting, “Merlyn shouldn’t be expected to…”

“Oh, really, I have plans for the evening,” Merlyn assured them, with a smile for her dark adversary. “In any case, since I came without my Bill Blass originals, it’s probably for the best. Don’t worry, I won’t be around to embarrass you in front of the Radners. I like staying out late at night. Until the wee hours.”

“Not here,” he told her. “You’ll be in by midnight, Miss Forrest. House rules. I don’t intend having my routine interrupted by you.”

She glared up at him hotly. “I will stay out as late as I like, Mr. Thorpe,” she returned. “These are not Victorian times, and you are most certainly not my master. As for dressing up for dinner…”

“Merlyn, you are most welcome to sit down to my table naked, if you like,” Lila interrupted.

“What a marvelous thought!” Merlyn laughed, rising to the occasion. She grinned at Cameron, who was getting madder by the minute. “You’re turning purple,” she added.

He drew in a slow breath, and his black eyes made threats. “Keep pushing,” he said quietly, “and see what happens.”

Her eyes widened. “I can hardly wait!”

With a harsh sigh, he turned on his heel and stalked off.

Lila grinned. “What a repressed boy I raised,” she murmured. “I had such plans for Cam, but his father stole him away from me in his formative years. Being dragged around the world and ridiculed at every turn has left its mark on him, I’m afraid.” She stared after him wistfully. “His father hurt him, belittled him. He wanted Cam to be strong and shrewd—well, he’s that. But my husband managed to take almost all the tenderness out of him. And what he left behind, Marcia destroyed with her cruelty.” She shook her head. “Cam’s had a hard life. But if he marries Delle, it can only get worse.”

“Is she that bad?” Merlyn asked, momentarily sympathetic.

“Oh, my dear,” Lila sighed, shaking her head mournfully. “I had such high hopes that he’d settle down one day—he’s nearing forty, you know. But I had hoped for a daughter-in-law who would be…” She glanced warily at Amanda, who was lost in her doll and its expensive accessories. “…different from Delle.”

“Different, how?” Merlyn asked, fascinated.

“You’ll see, I’m afraid,” came the weary reply.

***

The remark turned out to be prophetic. Merlyn had already decided that the best thing for her to do would be to go into Gainesville for the rest of the day while the Radners were in residence. She’d had enough of Cameron Thorpe’s disapproving glare for one day, and Lila had already told her it would be impossible to get any more work done with the guests around. The older woman had sighed wistfully when Merlyn made her decision known, and muttered that she’d like to go, too.

Merlyn walked out into the hall in her tasseled Mexican poncho with a green long-sleeved cotton blouse and white slacks, and stopped dead when she got her first look at Delle Radner.

Thin and dainty, with Shirley Temple blonde hair and over-mascaraed blue eyes, Cameron’s girlfriend was dressed as if she’d just been to a cocktail party or was headed for one. Her dress was a black street-length silk Charmeuse, obviously a designer model, with lavish floral lace inserts at the neckline and cuffs. Against her delicate fairness, it was devastating, and she had to know it. Her accessories were equally flawless, black snakeskin sling-back pumps and a matching purse. She was speaking to Cameron in low, girlish tones, and her full red lips were pouting up at him. Cameron, in a black dinner jacket, was looking irritated. And devastating. He would have graced the most chic establishment. Even Merlyn couldn’t help feeling a ripple of pleasure at the picture he made.

She jerked herself back to reality. This man was trouble, and she wanted no part of him. Besides, she wasn’t here to cozy up to Cameron the Cold. She was little more than an employee. The thought made her giggle, and she hid her mouth behind her elegantly kept hand.

The giggle drew unwanted attention. She felt two hostile pairs of eyes on her and made the most of her inbred composure. “Well, hi there,” she said breathily, entering the living room with a toss of her long, exquisite hair. “You must be Delle,” she told the blonde. “I’ve just heard so much about you!” She held out her hand, and Delle took it with a patronizing smile as her blue eyes assessed Merlyn’s apparel.

“You are…?” Delle asked politely.

“Merlyn Forrest,” Cameron supplied coldly. “She’s helping my mother with a new book.”

“Oh, are you a writer?” Delle’s eyebrows went up.

“No. I have a degree in history,” Merlyn replied.

Delle blinked. “I thought only men got those,” she said with a tittering little laugh.

“Oddly enough, women do, too,” Merlyn replied. She glanced at Cameron with a twitch of her lips. “Although some of them leave the halls of academia to work for striking dark men.…”

“Were you going somewhere, Miss Forrest?” Cameron asked with venom in every word.

“Why, yes,” she told him. “Into Gainesville to pick up men.”

Lila walked in on that last mischievous statement and chuckled. “May I go, too?” she asked.

“Mother!” Cameron growled, scowling down at her.

“And who is this?” asked an icily polite voice from behind Lila.

“Merlyn Forrest, my research assistant,” Lila obliged. “Merlyn, you’ve met Delle, of course, and this is Charlotte Radner. Delle’s mother.”

“Research assistant?” Charlotte laughed softly, but her eyes were as icy blue as a winter storm. She was dressed elegantly herself, in a floor-length blue dress that clung to her willowy figure. Her hair must once have been blonde, but now it was white with one of those blue rinses on it.

“Merlyn is helping me research the Plantagenet and Tudor periods for a book I’m working on,” Lila offered. “Although we’ve almost definitely settled on the Tudors. The background is so interesting.…”

“I’m sure it is, dear,” Charlotte said, sounding bored, “but a great many people have no taste for history, you know.”

“It’s so dull,” Delle added, clinging to Cameron’s sleeve. “I’d rather talk about polo. Cam, are you coming down for the match next week?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got too much to do. There’s a board meeting on a new budget.”

“You never stop working,” Delle complained. “Work, work, work. Why don’t you come out from behind that desk and into the world? You used to play polo, I remember watching you.”

“You’d have been in pigtails back then, I imagine?” Merlyn asked with a smile, noting with wicked pleasure the anger on Charlotte Radner’s patrician features.

“Delle is quite mature for her age,” Charlotte said coolly, curtly motioning her daughter to silence when she started to reply. “And has exquisite taste in clothes.”

Merlyn spread her poncho. “And my lack of it shows?” she challenged.

Charlotte’s manner wouldn’t let her enter into an insult match. “My dear, I meant no offense,” she said formally.

“Of course not. You wouldn’t be so ill-mannered as to point out the obvious difference between your daughter’s clothing budget and my own,” Merlyn said.

Mrs. Radner gave her a hard glare, and Cameron’s dark eyes began to glitter.

“Weren’t you just leaving, Miss Forrest?” he asked, emphasizing every cold word.

“Why, yes, I was,” Merlyn agreed with a grin. She tossed her dark hair like a young filly about to bolt, and her green eyes glanced off his flirtatiously. “See you.”

He was openly glaring now, and Delle was giving him funny looks. She moved closer, holding on to his arm as if he might be keeping the house from sinking.

“Have a good time, Merlyn,” Lila called after her.

“I’ll try to be in by two or three at the latest,” Merlyn replied mischievously, with a glance toward Cameron, who’d already told her to be in by midnight. He started to say something, but before he could, Merlyn was out the door with a cheery, “Good night!”

It was a relief to breathe fresh air again. Delle was just a child, obviously infatuated with Cameron. But her mother was something else, and she held the reins on her daughter. It looked to Merlyn as if Cameron was slowly digging his own grave.

But she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. He was cold and domineering and obviously deserved every damned thing he would get. She didn’t like him. He was all the things she resented in a man. Just the thought of him made her bristle.

She walked around Lakeshore Mall for a couple of hours, haunted the B. Dalton store there, sighed over the latest computers at Radio Shack, and had supper in a charming little restaurant with hanging foliage and an uptown menu. Then she drove to the Holiday Inn, checked in, and spent the night watching movies on cable TV.

***

It was nine o’clock the next morning when she drove her little red Volkswagen into Lila’s driveway and parked it beside Cameron’s elegant black Lincoln. She glared at the larger vehicle. Black. It figured. He didn’t have the personality for flashy red sports cars.

She dragged herself out of the car, still wearing the clothes she’d worn the day before (she’d slept in her underwear) and went into the house.

Lila glanced up as she entered the dining room, smiling with something like relief. “Good morning, dear, have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” Merlyn replied, with a general smile for the rest of the people at the table. Apparently Amanda was sleeping late again, but Cameron’s guests were there, as elegant in pantsuits as they had been in dresses the night before. They looked as disapproving as Cameron did.

“What a lovely time I had,” Merlyn sighed. She sat down beside Lila and smiled at Tilly, who poured her a cup of black coffee and pushed the platter with the buttered toast within her reach. “I hope you didn’t worry?” she asked Lila.

“No, dear,” Lila said with an amused smile—because she already knew that Merlyn didn’t trust men and that she hadn’t really spent the night picking them up.

“I was just having too much fun to come back,” Merlyn sighed, munching on toast and washing it down with coffee.

“In my time,” Mrs. Radner said coldly, “decent young women didn’t carouse all night. Even at the age of twenty, Delle is not allowed to be out past midnight.”

“You’re only twenty?” Merlyn exclaimed, staring at Delle. “And you’re…forty-five, isn’t it?” she asked Cameron with pretended innocence.

“I’m thirty-nine,” he said coldly.

“Nineteen years.” Merlyn shook her head, glancing at Delle. “You poor child.”

Cameron slammed down his napkin. “Miss Forrest…!” he began furiously.

“Do call me Jane, all my friends do,” she told him and pursed her lips in a playful kiss.

His cheeks had a dull layer of red over them, and she was glad she wasn’t alone with him.

“Cameron isn’t old,” Delle defended him, touching his hand lovingly. “He’s in his prime. And so masterful!”

Merlyn sputtered into her coffee and almost choked. Cameron glared at her openly, clenching his fists on the table until the knuckles went white.

“My, you’re in a good mood this morning, Merlyn,” Lila said. “I must go with you on your next night out.”

“Lila!” Mrs. Radner said curtly. “You shouldn’t encourage this kind of thing. God knows, there’s enough immorality in the world.”

“Spending the night alone in a Holiday Inn is immoral?” Merlyn asked, recovering from her lapse. Her dark eyebrows lifted as she stared at Mrs. Radner. “How?”

The older woman looked stunned. She faltered, searching for words. “I assumed…”

“Miss Forrest,” Cameron began again, and his black eyes glared holes in her, “you were asked to be in by midnight.”

“No, I wasn’t, Mr. Thorpe. I was ordered to be in by midnight,” she retorted. “I don’t respond well to orders, even when they’re given by exciting dark men.”

“Cameron,” Delle interrupted, “don’t you think…”

“Keep out of this, Delle,” Cameron replied curtly, as if a mere woman’s comments weren’t worth listening to.

Delle meekly inclined her head toward her plate, and Merlyn glowered at Delle. “Are you going to let him talk to you that way?” she burst out. “My goodness, you don’t have to sit there and take orders like a family pet!”

Delle looked shocked, but her expression was nothing compared to Cameron’s. He threw down his napkin as if it were a gauntlet.

“That’s enough,” he told Merlyn, and his voice was like deep, icy water. “That’s more than enough.”

“You said it, honey,” Merlyn replied with a contemptuous laugh as she got to her feet, oblivious to Charlotte’s glare and Lila’s smothered grin. “I’d choke having to eat beside a male chauvinist like you. If you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to freshen up.”

She got up with a general nod in the direction of the guests and went upstairs.

“Male supremacist, sitting there like the first Caesar,” she muttered, stripping off her clothes and coiling her long hair up under a borrowed shower cap as she went toward the bathroom. “And that simpering child sitting there, lapping it up!” she hissed. She turned on the water and stepped under it, quickly soaping herself and as quickly washing off the lather. She grabbed a towel and dried herself, ripped off the shower cap and shook her hair dry. Cameron had made her furious enough, but that Charlotte Radner had really set her temper on fire. Snob! How dare that woman make such assumptions about her? Of course, she had to admit that she’d deliberately begun to give the wrong impression. But she was probably worth twice as much as the Radners, and she hated being put down. If this was how poor people lived, it wasn’t very pleasant. It made her think. Which was probably what her father had intended from the beginning, she thought angrily. And again she wondered if he had more than a nodding acquaintance with Cameron Thorpe. He couldn’t have picked a better adversary for her if he’d spent his life searching. Then she realized she was on the wrong track. Her father would have been in search of a soul mate for her, not an adversary.

She walked back into her bedroom, sleek and elegant in her nudity, her high breasts in perfect proportion to a body that was sensuous and graceful and unconscious of its own power. And as she walked into the bedroom, Cameron Thorpe walked in the door.

Her eyes widened. So did his. They went over her like dark fingers, tracing every soft curve, every long line, with an intensity that froze her into position like a nymph caught bathing.

“Damn you!” she whispered as sanity returned. She dived for the silky blue coverlet, and jerked it around her. Her face went blood red. No man had ever seen her without her clothes, not even that jackass she’d been engaged to. There had been very little more than kissing between them, in fact, which was one thing that had led to her suspicion that her money was the attraction for Adam, not her body. Or her heart.

“How interesting,” Cameron murmured, watching her reaction as she shrank against the post of the canopy over her wide bed. He closed the door behind him with a hard thud and went toward her.