Wild Lady Part 10

"You said it." Mac continually checked the mirror as they drove between high hedges, then as a gap approached, he pulled off the road, turned to face the road and drew up under the shelter of a thick canopy of trees. He turned off the engine and for a while the only sound was the ticking of the engine as it cooled and the gradual return of birdsong as the inhabitants of the copse became used to their presence.

"Well?" Claudia whispered, after long tense moments when she held her breath half expecting to see some vehicle come speeding by in search of them. "Are we being followed?" He didn't immediately answer her and she glanced across at him. In direct contrast to her own tense and expectant state, Gabriel MacIntyre was utterly relaxed, leaning back in his seat, eyes closed. Clearly not. "Why have we stopped?" she demanded, suspiciously.

"I wanted to think."

"Think? You can't think and drive at the same time?"

"That depends on the thought." He opened his eyes and turned his head towards her. "I had an idea that required my undivided attention. And it seemed a good idea to be stationary when I put it to you."

"That suggests I'm not going to like it."

"I very much doubt it," he agreed.

"Then I advise you to trust your judgment and keep it to yourself. Forget lunch, just get me home without delay."

"That's what I've been thinking about. Taking you home."

"Don't waste time thinking about it," she encouraged him. "Do it."

"All in good time. "When we've settled the question of protection."

"I don't want protection."

"You don't have any choice in the matter. I have a personal score to settle with your 'c.o.c.kroach'. And I gave Luke my word that I'd take care of you," he added, as if that settled it once and for all.

"Luke had no right -"

"But it occurred to me that if a stranger suddenly appeared at your side, it would alert the enemy." He finally opened his eyes and turned their blue depths upon her. "And then it occurred to me that your performance on the television last night was very convincing."

"My performance? Don't underrate yourself, Mac. You gave as good as you got."

"Thank you. I'm glad you appreciated the effort." She glared at him. "You said it would make the tabloids. Did you mean it?"

"I shouldn't think there's any doubt about it. Barty probably had someone lined up to run the story even before the show went on air. He'll want a return on his investment, especially since it was a great deal heavier than he had antic.i.p.ated." That thought, at least, gave her immense satisfaction.

"So it shouldn't be too difficult to start a few rumors of l.u.s.t at first sight?"

She waved a hand in weary resignation. "Stopping them will be the problem."

"I don't think we should even try." He took her hand, held it for a moment. "You see, don't you, what I'm getting at?"

"I'm having a slow brain day. Enlighten me."

"As your latest and most ardent lover I don't suppose anyone would be surprised to see me at your heels twenty-four hours a day. Would they?" And with that he lifted her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture. But his eyes when he lifted them to meet hers were anything but. "What do you say, sweetheart?"

Claudia didn't say any thing for the simple reason that she was speechless. If he thought he would convince anyone who knew her that he was her lover ... it was laughable. He just wasn't her type. No way.

He was still looking at her in that intense, self-mocking way that gave her goose b.u.mps. He was waiting for her to answer, waiting for her to leap into his arms in grat.i.tude. Well he could wait.

"Actually, Mac, I'd say you were quite mad, but since I don't think very well on an empty stomach I'm prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt," she said, with exquisite politeness. "For now." And since she was a talented actress she had no trouble at all in finding a smile with which to humor him. Then she realized that he was still holding her hand and she s.n.a.t.c.hed it back, rather spoiling the effect. "Were you serious about lunch, or were you simply tormenting me with the promise of food?" she snapped. "It's a long time since the sandwich after yesterday's matinee."

"You haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon? And you think I'm crazy?" He leaned forward to start the engine. "It sounds to me as if you need a nanny as well as a bodyguard."

Claudia recalled the competent way he had moved around her kitchen and it occurred to her that being looking after by Mac might have it advantages. "It's a long time since I had a nanny. Can you cook?" she asked.

"I wasn't volunteering to double up."

"Weren't you?" She shrugged. "That's a shame. But I suppose living on take-aways goes with your line of work. I'm afraid I've never quite managed to get the hang of domesticity."

"I don't suppose there's much cause for you to develop your domestic talents. Not when you have so much else to offer."

It was truly incredible the way Mac managed to invest even the most innocent of statements with insult, Claudia decided and she hit right back. "No doubt your wife was a wonderful cook. In fact I imagine she was perfection personified."

"You know nothing about her."

There was a satisfactory tightness in his voice. Well, it would do the man good to realize that verbal fencing was a two-way sport. "Maybe not. But I know about you. And it's clear that nothing short of perfection would ever have satisfied you."

"Your mouth will get you into serious trouble one day. If it hasn't already."

"Personally I distrust perfection. My mother was renowned for it. Perfect wife, perfect mother, perfect actress."

"You don't take after her."

"No, thank G.o.d." She suddenly lost interest in baiting him. "Will you stop the car here please. I'd be happier in a taxi whose driver wouldn't feel he had a right to continually criticize me."

"I'll do you a favor and pretend I didn't hear that." He tossed her a warning glance. "It's a couple of miles to the pub and there's not much in between. You'll never make it those sandals." She opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his two miles, his pub, his protection, but he lifted his left hand from the steering wheel and laid his fingers lightly on her lips. His touch went through her like a lightning bolt, fizzing, explosive, dangerous. "Enough, Claudia." She jerked her head away from him and his hand dropped back to the steering wheel. But the point of contact just went on burning.

They drove on in silence, but Mac's mind was seething. Why wouldn't she accept the reality of what was happening to her? Last night she had been terrified and he had thought it would be the simplest matter to persuade her to take all the necessary precautions for her safety. This morning she had antic.i.p.ated the danger to her sister without him having to spell it out. If he was prepared to reorganize his life to make sure she was safe, why wouldn't she just accept his offer gracefully?

He wanted to stop the car, but not to let her out. He wanted to take hold of her by the shoulders and physically shake her.

Worse, he wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to carry her deep into the woods and make love to her, anything that would put a stop to the infuriating, reckless way she let her mouth run away with her. He wanted her soft and warm in his arms, her voice silky with longing. He gave a little gasp from somewhere deep in his throat.

She turned to him. "Did you say something?"

"No." Then, "But I'm sorry."

"I beg your pardon?" She touched her fingers to her ear and leaned towards him. "I don't believe I quite caught that." Her voice was rich with sarcasm. Well, she had a voice that had been developed to show any emotion, any feeling she chose. "Was that an apology, Mr. MacIntyre?"

Of course it was an apology. She knew that. Did she have to make a meal of it? Gloat? Why couldn't she just accept it? But it was too late to retract. "I'm sorry. I've no right to make comments about you or how you live."

"Too d.a.m.n right you haven't. You know nothing about me."

Her sharpness sparked an instant echo in him.

"On the contrary, I know too much about you and I don't much like it. But you know nothing whatever about me. Or my wife. And that's the way I'd like to keep it. As far as I'm concerned this is purely business," he said, responding in kind. Another minute and they'd be shouting at one another.

He gave a little exclamation of disgust. Whatever had happened to his self-control? He glanced at Claudia. She'd happened to it. He'd been on a knife-edge since she crossed his path, cras.h.i.+ng her way into his life. He loathed everything she was even while he burned with an insane desire to hold her, to protect her, to feel the heat of those long legs wrapped about him. For a moment it hung in the balance. He could see the battle raging within her. She wanted to tell him to go to h.e.l.l. But he couldn't let that happen. Someone wanted to hurt her and she didn't know where to turn for safety. He couldn't allow her push him away. "Why don't we discuss terms over lunch?"

"That suits me just fine," she declared. Then suddenly, "And I'm sorry too. About your wife." She made a tiny, rather helpless little gesture that might have meant anything but told him more than any number of words that her edginess had far more to do with being scared than being angry. She hadn't mentioned the second letter, but it had shaken her far more than she would ever admit. Claudia Beaumont, he realized with something of a shock, was a great deal tougher than she looked. But she was still one very frightened lady.

Tempting as it was to offer bland rea.s.surance he was glad she didn't underestimate the danger because something about the whole series of incidents worried him more than he had admitted, even to Luke. The lack of pattern was puzzling. The only links so far were the letters and maybe the photograph in the parachute. Unpleasant in themselves, but not life threatening. The incident with the dress seemed much more personal, so much closer and that made it especially frightening, but all of those things had the same feel to them. The car was something else entirely. That had been potentially lethal. He had played it down, but in a car built for speed, driven by a woman with an inclination to show off, sudden brake-failure could have been catastrophic. And without that first letter or the photograph, who would have looked for evidence of foul play?

"What's the matter?"

He kept his eyes on the road. "Matter?"

"You frowned. I hope you're not lost."

He had the distinct feeling that he was being teased. Claudia Beaumont was a creature whose moods changed as quickly as the weather and he discovered that it was very easy to respond to them. "No, ma'am. In fact you can tell your frantic stomach that we've arrived." And as he took a long right-handed bend a small village opened up before them. It had everything. A cl.u.s.ter of cottages, an ancient church, a green complete with a pond and a family of ducks. And the perfect picture postcard thatched village inn. Mac pulled into the small, but packed carpark, squeezing the Landcruiser into the last s.p.a.ce. "What do you think?"

"I think it's lovely. I just hope we can get a table."

"Leave me to worry about that. I'm a particular friend of the landlady." He opened the door and swung her down onto the tarmac, but although her scented hair brushed his cheek he stepped back quickly, turning away to usher her through the door into a low, oak-beamed bar. There was an instant shout of joyous recognition.

"Mac! You should have let me know you were coming."

Claudia watched him lean across the bar and take the hand of an elegant silver-blonde, probably in her early forties, but whose perfect bone structure and flawless skin gave her the kind of ageless good looks that would never fade. He kissed the woman's cheek and seeing the very real warmth in Mac's eyes, Claudia felt a stir of something possessive grip her. When they were with her, men weren't supposed to notice other women.

But he hadn't lied when he said he was a particular friend of the landlady. "Diana, it's good to see you," he said, still holding her hand. "How're you both keeping?" Both? Claudia looked around for the woman's husband. There was no sign of him.

"We're fine, Mac," Diana replied. "But run off our feet as you can see. Heather, look who's here."

"h.e.l.lo, Mac." The girl was longing to fling her arms about him, Claudia could see. Instead she stood awkwardly, waiting for him to notice her. It was impossible to miss her in her Doc Marten's, a pair of thick black tights she was wearing in defiance of the August suns.h.i.+ne, a minuscule tartan skirt and a baggy black T-s.h.i.+rt. Topping the lot was a thick cropped head of hennaed hair.

Mac managed not to flinch. But he wasn't tactful either. "h.e.l.lo, carrots," he said, flicking the top of her cropped hairdo. "What happened to the pigtails?" The deep flush of red that colored the girl's cheeks, clas.h.i.+ng horribly with her hair, must have alerted him to his mistake because he quickly turned to introduce Claudia. "Claudia, Diana Archer and her daughter Heather." No husband, then. "Diana, this is -"

"Introductions aren't necessary." Diana smiled warmly and detached herself from Mac's hand to offer her own. "Miss Beaumont you're very welcome."

"Claudia, please," she found herself saying. Diana was impossible to dislike. Natural warmth exuded from every pore and it was little wonder her pub was full.

"We saw you both on the television last night," Diana said.

"Did you?" Mac asked, with a grimace. "I was hoping there might have been a nationwide power cut."

Heather's eyes flickered defiantly in Claudia's direction. "I'm not surprised, it was dreadfully tacky."

"Heather!" Diana protested, but Mac laughed.

"The child's right. Tacky scarcely covers it," he a.s.sured her. "But Claudia raised a lot of money for the hospice. And the donation to the club will come in useful."

"When are you going to let me join?" Heather asked, placing her hand proprietarily upon his arm.

"I'm not."

"Mac!" she protested.

"You lack all the necessary qualifications, sweetheart. You aren't an underprivileged youth from some inner city slum with at least one conviction for anti-social behavior to your name."

"And you're not a boy," Diana added, quickly.

"You don't just take boys, do you Mac? You teach girls to jump."

"It has been known. Why don't you to ask Claudia what she thought of the experience? I don't think she'd willingly do it again."

"Not for an Academy Award," Claudia responded, obligingly.

"Well, she's just a bimbo, what do you expect?" Heather retorted, then blushed so hotly that no one had the heart to upbraid her for her rudeness, although Claudia thought that might have made things even worse.

But Diana wasn't prepared to allow her daughter any further leeway. "Heather, the table by the window needs clearing. Will you see to it? Now." The girl glared at her mother as she walked away, furious at being dismissed to undertake such a menial task. Claudia felt a twinge of compa.s.sion for the girl, even though she probably deserved worse. She was clearly besotted with Mac and her mother knew it. But then Diana was a good-looking woman and it was entirely possible that she had plans of her own in his direction. "Are you staying for lunch, Mac?" Diana asked.

"If you can find us a table. I didn't expect you to be this busy."

"Thank goodness for the tourists," Diana said, with feeling. "They see us through the winter. "We can fit you in about ten minutes. Or you can come through to the back if you'd prefer to be private?" She glanced inquiringly at Claudia.

"There's no need to go to any bother for me, Diana. I'm perfectly happy in the bar. Why don't we have a drink while we're waiting, Mac? I'd like a spritzer."

He turned back to Diana. "Just a mineral water for me."

"You're driving again?" she asked, as she put two gla.s.ses on the bar and proceeded to fill them. "How's the leg?"

"Nothing to grumble about. It's propping up the left-hand side of me fairly adequately."

"Will you be able to jump again?"

"It's too soon to say," he hedged. "Tony's taking care of the club for the time being." He picked up their gla.s.ses. "We'll take our drinks outside. Will you give us a shout when there's a table?"

"It won't be long," Diana promised. "Take a menu with you."

They settled themselves on an old rustic bench under one of the windows that overlooked the village green and for a moment neither of them said anything. Claudia finally broke the silence.

"What happened to your leg?"

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he shrugged. "It collided with a bullet on my last visit to Bosnia." She winced. "I'm not complaining," Mac said. "It was aimed at my head."

"But it brought your army career to an untimely conclusion?"

"I was luckier than Mark. Diana's husband," he explained when she asked. "He was killed in the Gulf War." He leaned back, his arm along the top of the bench behind her. "They'd just bought the pub. Mark had done his twenty years in the army and he was due to retire ... but he had some very special skills..." Mac stared into his gla.s.s. "He said he didn't want to miss the fun."

"And was it fun?"

He intercepted Claudia's thoughtful glance at his leg. "There's not much amus.e.m.e.nt to be gained from a posthumous medal. Diana's got a pension of course and she puts a brave face on things, but it must be hard work running this place on her own." He indicated the postcard perfect village with a broad sweep of his hand, taking in the distant s.h.i.+mmer of the sea on the horizon. "Even with the perfect setting dreams don't always come true. What do you want to eat?"

He had changed the subject before she got too inquisitive about his own special skills, she noticed. He didn't want to talk about the army. Or his leg. Or his life. But she didn't pick up the menu.

"At least she has Heather."

"Yes, she has Heather. She didn't lose everything." The vivid blue sparkle died from Mac's eyes and Claudia realized that she had touched some nerve, something buried very deep. He'd lost everything. Had there been a child? "But Heather"s getting to the age where she'll want more out of life than a quiet country pub can offer, no matter how picturesque," he continued, somewhat brusquely. There had been a split second when anything might have been possible, but now it was gone and Claudia knew better than to pursue it.