Wild Lady Part 9

"You were right. She mustn't ever know about this. I'm afraid you'll have to forgo your tour of the local beauty spots, Mac. The sooner we leave here the better."

"I wasn't sure you'd see it that way." She sensed his relief and it infuriated her.

"What kind of a person do you think I am, Mac? Do you think I'd risk my sister's peace of mind, her safety, for one second longer than necessary?"

He looked awkward. "Luke didn't think you should be left to deal with this by yourself. He wanted you to stay."

"Then you should have told him that you'd appointed yourself my personal bodyguard."

"I did." He saw her face and made a move to calm her down. "He took a lot of persuading but I told him that I'd take care of things. Until we know what kind of person we're dealing with -"

"You don't have to spell it out, Mac. Why the devil didn't you call me earlier?" She glared at him, furious that he could have delayed, even for a minute.

"Luke thought it best to act as if nothing had happened and he took the view that calling you before twelve unless there was a national emergency might just alert Fizz to the fact that there was something wrong. We had a good look around but whoever left the note didn't hang about." They exchanged a glance. "What excuse shall we give Fizz for leaving so soon?" he asked.

"You have to ask? Like all new converts my sister believes she has a mission to urge others to take the path to wedded bliss. She'll do everything she can to foster romance."

"Maybe." He didn't quite grit his teeth, but it was a near thing. "But I did get the impression that she's expecting you to stay until tomorrow. Something about you making a recording for one of her programs?"

"Oh, G.o.d, Holiday Bay," Claudia said, with a groan. "It's a soap she broadcasts from the radio station. A seaside soap opera. The whole family has been co-opted into taking part, whether they want to or not. But it's not a problem. I'll take the scripts with me and record my bits in London. The rest of the cast can record around me. Mel and I do it all the time when we can't get home. And you can leave Fizz to me. If I tell her that we're moving down to my flat for a little more privacy she won't be surprised."

"Your flat? You have a flat, here in Broomhill?"

"Just a small self-contained apartment at home. In my father's house," she explained, when he looked blank. "I'm not here often enough to make anything bigger worthwhile."

He looked doubtful. "Why on earth would Fizz think we've gone there? If your father -"

"He isn't. Dad's away drumming up finance for a television series he's going to make later in the year. We'd have the whole house to ourselves."

He mouth tightened. "I see."

"Do you, Mac?" Of course he did. "Well, call me clairvoyant," she said, "but somehow I never doubted that for a moment." She hadn't expected anything else, but it still hurt that he would jump to the boringly obvious conclusion that it was a common occurrence. "I'll go and tell Fizz we're leaving. It'll only take me a minute to pack."

"There's just one thing before you do." She waited. "I told you that Devlin took a lot of persuading."

"Yes?"

"I had to promise him that I'd take care of you."

He didn't have to make it sound quite such a ch.o.r.e. She hadn't asked him to involve himself in her troubles. "It's all right, Mac. Once we leave here I won't hold you to it."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter. I gave the man my word that I'd look after you and I intend to keep it. If you don't agree to do exactly as I say, Claudia, you'll have to stay here."

Claudia's hard front came close to crumbling. In her experience men only wanted one thing from her. Borrowed glamour and bed. She lent her glamour when it suited her; her bed had been given to few. Her heart she had managed to keep entirely to herself.

But no one had ever insisted on taking care of her with quite that ring of sincerity. She was almost fooled by it.

CHAPTER SIX.

"TAKE care of yourself, Claud," Fizz instructed, earnestly, hugging her sister as Mac started the Landcruiser. "No more late nights."

"I'll do my best to see she's tucked up in bed before midnight," Mac said, softly as Claudia climbed in beside him. And he made a great performance of fastening her seat belt. If they had been lovers it wouldn't have bothered her in the least, she would have been too busy enjoying the attention. But they weren't and it embarra.s.sed her and she discovered to her chagrin that she was blus.h.i.+ng. She could have sworn she had forgotten how.

"And I'd leave the driving to Mac for the time being," Luke advised. "He knows what he's doing." His words were invested with extra meaning for those who knew what he meant.

"You're a chauvinist, Luke Devlin," she called back to him as Mac let out the clutch and rolled away down the drive. She stuck her head out of the window. "I don't know why Fizz puts up with you."

But as they stood in the driveway, Luke's arm protectively about Fizz, she knew. She sat back in her seat. She knew and she thought her sister was probably the luckiest woman in the world.

At the gate Mac eased out into the lane and then turned to Claudia. "It might be a good idea to check out your place down here before I take you back to London."

It was almost a relief to be confronted with reality. No matter how brutal. "You think my correspondent will have visited there, too?"

"It's possible. He might have hedged his bets." But the house was quiet, peaceful, undisturbed. There were no unpleasant surprises. "Whoever is giving you a hard time seems to know you pretty well," Mac said, as they locked up and returned to the car. "Did you tell anyone at the theater you would be staying with your sister rather than coming here?"

She shook her head. "Only Melanie." He looked thoughtful. "For goodness sake, it's not Melanie," she declared, hotly.

His expression didn't change, but he didn't press it. "It's possible you were overheard talking to her. Or maybe someone was listening in when you telephoned Fizz to tell her you were coming. Or maybe someone checked your phone to see who you had called. It wouldn't take much working out -"

"For goodness sake, Mac, leave it will you. Just take me home. I need to think about this, decide what to do."

"I'll take you home, but only to pack. You can do your thinking somewhere safer. Somewhere no one will find you."

He wasn't listening, so she said, very carefully and quite slowly as if talking to someone whose wits had gone walkabout, "No. Thank you. I've done with sticking my head in the sand and last night I did my one and only impression of a headless chicken. I can't ignore this, but I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll run and I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll hide."

"There's nothing wrong with your spirit. Unhappily your reasoning isn't in such good shape."

She was determined not to lose her temper. He'd coming running to her rescue when she'd screamed for help. But now it was time for the professionals. "My reasoning is just fine and dandy. I'm not ignoring the problem, I'm going to call the police the minute I get home and put the whole thing in their hands. And you a.s.sured me that with your new locks I'll be perfectly safe." She wanted him to be perfectly clear that he was off the hook. That she didn't take his promise to Luke seriously. "You won't forget to send me your bill?"

He sent her a scathing look. "Perfect safety is un.o.btainable, you should know that. Even with security cameras and round the clock monitoring, the determined intruder will always find a way inside. And you've still got to get to the theater and back again late at night." He didn't mention the possibility of attack coming out of the dark shadows of the theater itself. Perhaps he was being kind. But she didn't think so. He simply left it to her own imagination. And her imagination obliged him.

"I refuse to live in a cage," she said, a touch desperately. "I won't be driven behind locked doors by some nasty little c.o.c.kroach who gets his rocks off -"

"All right," he said, quickly. "I understand how you feel. But you'll still have to take precautions. I can organize proper protection for you."

"Can you?" It didn't take too much imagination to guess the role he had picked for himself. The night watch. "What would that involve?"

"A driver trained to deal with any emergency, someone who can stay with you at all times, monitor your mail, filter incoming calls and watch your back at the theater."

"A bodyguard," she said, dully.

"Not a bodyguard. This is real life, not the movies. Just someone who will allow you carry on with your life, as near normally as possible, until whoever is threatening you is found and dealt with."

"No." It sounded appalling. "Thanks, but no thanks. I know you're only trying to help, but your idea of normal doesn't coincide with mine."

"Normal just isn't going to be possible for a while, Claudia. You must see that."

"No."

"Think about it."

"No."

"For goodness sake be reasonable -" he began, impatiently.

"The police will deal with it," she said, cutting him off.

"The police will do what they can. But they can't be there every minute of the day."

"Good. I don't want some stranger at my back every minute of the day." Her huge eyes challenged him to defy her. As they pulled up at a long line of traffic held up by road works, he turned and challenged her right back.

"Whoever is writing you unpleasant little notes is at your back every minute of the day," he reminded her. "Whoever is chopping up photographs of you is at your back every minute of the day. Whoever is -"

She wanted to put her hands over her ears to shut out the words. She wanted him to take her in his arms and promise that no one would ever hurt her. She suddenly wanted all kinds of impossible things. Her hands tightened in her lap, but her voice betrayed nothing. "I couldn't possibly afford that kind of protection," she said.

"How much is your life worth? Less than one of your couture frocks? Far less than one of those fabulous jewels you inherited from your mother." He turned briefly to look at her. "I hope you weren't relying on those pathetic locks to keep them safe?"

That made her laugh but when he turned to look at her, she didn't bother to explain why. "This is not a matter of life and death, Mac," she declared. "It's nasty. And I'm not denying that last night came as a bit of a shock. But anyone who knows me could have guessed I'd go down to Broomhill and with Dad away, that I'd go to Fizz and Luke. No one would want to be in that great big empty house by themselves. Not after a fright. And that is the purpose behind all this nonsense. To shake me, make me run." Her hands were tight little fists. "But I can ignore it if I try hard enough."

"Can you?" He gave his full attention to the road as the traffic began to move. "Should you?" His eyes met hers briefly. "You may be right, but if you insist upon carrying on as if nothing has happened it's possible that he'll try harder to get a reaction."

"He?"

"He," Mac affirmed. "Or are you still trying to convince me that Adele had something to do with this?"

"You know her better than I do, Mac. But do you really think that a man would have slashed my costume? That was such a b.i.t.c.hy thing to do." Her eyes dared him to deny it.

He didn't, instead he rubbed absently at a small scar just above his right eyebrow. "Maybe that was the intention. To make you think it was a woman."

"That's a bit convoluted, isn't it?"

"Maybe. The trouble is, I can't see a woman meddling with your brakes."

Brakes, brakes, brakes. Why couldn't he forget about the brakes? It was a fault, nothing more sinister. It was just a coincidence.

"You're a chauvinist."

"I'm a realist."

Claudia, despite her reservations, conceded the point. "You're probably right. I certainly wouldn't know where to begin. But it doesn't rule out the possibility of Adele recruiting a man to do her dirty work for her. She was the first person you thought of," she reminded him.

"She might have done the parachute thing on the spur of the moment. But not the brakes. She was angry but I think with herself as much as Tony or you. She knows she's been h.e.l.l to live with for the past few weeks. And she was home watching us make fools of ourselves on television when your dress was slashed." He glanced across at her. "I checked with Tony." She arched a finely honed brow at him and he shrugged. "I had to know. If it had been Adele, she would need some professional help."

"Somebody needs professional help," she agreed, with feeling.

"You really don't have any idea who could be behind this, Claudia?"

"You think I'd keep quiet about it?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "You didn't seem to take the first letter very seriously. And you've been slow to put the matter in the hands of the police. Are you sure you can't think of someone you've upset recently?"

"Are you suggesting that this is the work of a disgruntled lover?"

"Did I say that?"

"No, but I believe you were implying it."

"Maybe I was," he conceded. "Or maybe you just have a good idea who's behind it. You're in a funny business. The people in it are ... volatile."

"Is that a fact?"

"Don't think you can handle this by yourself, Claudia."

"I can't think of a single person I know who would do this to me. I don't go out of my way to make enemies. And I'm a great deal choosier about lovers than the popular press would have you believe." She grinned humorlessly. "Read tomorrow's tabloids and you'll see what I mean." She looked around as he signaled and slowed to turn off the main road. "Where are we going? This isn't the way to London."

He glanced in the rear view mirror. "I thought we'd take the scenic route." As Claudia stared at him the down rose goosily on her skin and she gave a little s.h.i.+ver of apprehension. "We can stop at a pub I know. For lunch," he added, quickly.

"You're checking to see if we're being followed." He didn't deny it and she looked back nervously but the road behind them was busy with holiday traffic. "How can you tell?"

His mouth creased slightly in a suggestion of a smile. "I don't think you have much to fear from hara.s.sed parents with roof racks full of luggage and cars filled with restless children."

"I don't suppose I have anything to fear at all. Nothing real. Only fear itself. That's what this is all about isn't it?" She glanced uncertainly at him. "Making my life miserable."

"Probably."

Not particularly rea.s.suring. But she refused to be cowed. "Well I refuse to be miserable. And right now I'm at greater risk of dying from hunger than anything my nasty little friend can dream up," she declared. "Is this pub far?"

"You should have got up for breakfast," he told her, with a distinct lack of sympathy.

"You may have forgotten, but I was working until way past eleven o'clock last night."

He checked the mirror again. "So was I."

So he was. And he had been up long before her, too. Another minute and she'd be feeling guilty. "You didn't have to. I didn't ask you to don your breastplate and come galloping to my rescue like some latter-day Galahad."

"Didn't you, Claudia? I rather thought you did."

She felt her cheeks heating up beneath his gentle challenge. She may not have asked for him specifically, but her relief when he had turned up last night must have been plain enough. "I can a.s.sure you that any driver would have done," she declared, crisply. "And as you know Fizz would be startled to see me downstairs before lunchtime on Sunday."

"So she said." He signaled and slowed, turning off the main road to head across country. "You're not a bit like her, are you?"

"You mean she's kind and gentle and charming, while I have a tongue like a bandsaw as well as being as flighty a piece of work as you're likely to meet this side of Christmas?" Claudia's response was as light and as brittle as spun toffee.