Storm Force Page 9

Her mouth went dry. What was she doing? What was she even contemplating?

  Angrily, she pulled away from him. ‘You take altogether too much for granted, Mr Delaney. Last night I was vulnerable, and you were kind. I’m—grateful, but that’s as far as it goes. Actually, I can’t wait to get out of here, and back to my real life. You, of course, must do as you please.’

  ‘Does that “real life”,’ he emphasised the words sarcastically, ‘include the mother-ridden Robin?’

  ‘That’s my affair. And now I’m going down to speak to Mr Grice.’ The floorboards were cold under bare feet. She debated whether to put on her robe, but the knocking on the door was getting fiercer by the minute, so she decided to risk answering it in her nightgown. It was, after all, more than adequate covering, she thought as she sped downstairs.

  The bolt was stiff, and she called, ‘Just a minute, I’m coming’ as she struggled with it.

  But it wasn’t Mr Grice on the step, or anyone she had ever seen before. It was a tall man, hands buried in the pockets of his raincoat. He gave her a swift, surprised glance, then smiled ingratiatingly.

  ‘Miss Carlyle, is it?’ he asked. ‘Miss Margaret Carlyle?’

  Bewildered, she nodded, wishing she had obeyed her first instinct and put on her dressing-gown. ‘Who are you? What do you want? How did you get here?’

  ‘We have our methods.’ The smile broadened. He turned to someone outside Maggie’s line of vision. ‘Here you are, George. She’s all yours.’

  A smaller man appeared at the door. Horrified, Maggie realised he was holding a camera.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she wailed, and tried to shut the door, but the tall man was too quick for her.

  ‘No need for that, darling,’ he said briskly. ‘Why don’t we all just co-operate? It’s much the best way. Mind telling me how old you are?’

  ‘Yes, I bloody well do mind.’ Maggie found herself shaking, as she registered the flash bulb in the camera going off. ‘Get away from my house and leave me in peace.’

  ‘“World’s End”.’ The tall man surveyed the wooden sign. ‘Nice, that. Very—evocative. True as well. We had a hell of a job getting down here. Had to wait while they got that bloody great tree out of the way. That was your car, was it, the one they towed away? Anyone hurt when you crashed it?’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ Maggie bit furiously.

  ‘But it is our business, doll.’ The camera went off again. ‘Anything to do with Mr Jay “McGuire” Delaney is very much our business. So how long have you known him, and how many visits has he made to this little love nest? Give us an exclusive before those other bastards get here, and we’ll make it worth your while.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t give us that.’ The tall man gave her an amused glance. ‘He was seen by one of the locals. He didn’t believe it the first time, so he came back to check, and then he tipped us off. Only we weren’t the only ones.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid you’ve been fooled,’ Maggie said shortly. ‘Get out, and don’t come back.’

  He tutted. ‘Now is that nice? Why don’t you ask us in for a cup of coffee, and we’ll talk terms. It’s going to be like a siege here very soon, but I could keep the others off your back.’

  ‘I’m not interested in any deal with you.’

  ‘But your friend Mr Delaney might be. Why don’t we ask him?’ He looked past her into the cottage, his smile widening again. ‘In fact, why don’t we ask him right now?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  MAGGIE TURNED, her heart sinking. Jay was standing on the stairs, his eyes glittering with rage. He had dragged on his jeans, but he was barefoot and his hair was tousled. It was obvious to anyone that he’d only just got up, she thought, as another flashbulb went off.

  He said between his teeth, ‘Get out of here, Alcott, and take your other vulture with you before I throw you out.’

  The tall man whistled, throwing up his hands defensively. ‘No rough stuff, please, Jay. After all, we’re old friends. We’ll make a tactical withdrawal and wait for reinforcements, while you and the girlfriend get your clothes on, and your heads together.’

  He gave Maggie a long, top-to-toe survey which had her writhing inwardly. ‘See you later, doll. Sorry we got you out of bed.’

  She closed the door on them and tried to re-bolt it, but her hands were shaking too much, and Jay had to do it for her.

  He was very white under his tan. ‘How the hell did they find me here?’

  ‘Dave Arnold—Peeping Tom—recognised you after all. It wasn’t me he was spying on, I gather. It was you.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I was just a bonus, I suppose. Isn’t that funny?’

  ‘If it is, I’ll laugh at some other time,’ Jay said bleakly. ‘What did you say to that creep out there? You didn’t give him any personal details, I hope.’

  ‘He knew my name already.’

  Jay muttered an obscenity under his breath. ‘If he knows that, he can find out the rest,’ he said wearily. ‘Bloody hell, this is the last thing I wanted.’

  She moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘He said that there were others coming. That the track is open now.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it. Your farmer friend will have been handsomely rewarded for his efforts,’ Jay said contemptuously. ‘Isn’t the power of the press a wonderful thing?’ He shook his head. ‘We’ll be damned lucky not to find a television crew plus the local radio station camping outside in the next hour.’

  He paused. ‘We could make a run for it, of course. How well do you know these lanes? Is your car drivable?’

  ‘They’ve towed it away.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to stay where we are. Try and sit them out.’ Jay hesitated. ‘It’s likely to get pretty nasty. Jeff Alcott represents the Sunday Examiner, champions of the oppressed, and financial backers of Debbie Burrows. Peeping Tom couldn’t have sold us to a more interested party.’

  Maggie shuddered. ‘You could get away,’ she said, after a moment. ‘You could get from the spare bedroom window on to the outhouse roof, and go across the fields. If I tell them you’re gone, let them search the place if they want, they won’t bother with me.’

  ‘Not bother with you?’ Jay’s brows shot up. ‘Are you insane, Maggie? Finding you here, for Alcott, is like having all his birthdays come at once. I can see the headlines now. “TV’s McGuire in hideaway love nest with half-naked redhead.”‘

  Maggie flushed angrily. ‘That’s ridiculous. I’m perfectly decent. You said yourself this nightdress was like a tent.’

  ‘But I don’t write for the tabloids,’ Jay said grimly. ‘Translated into Examiner terms, your modest shroud will be “sheer, see-through” and probably “transparent”.’

  Maggie wanted to stamp her foot, but remembered just in time she was barefoot. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m going to talk to that man—tell him the truth.’

  ‘You’d be wasting your breath. Alcott is only interested in half-truths, innuendo and downright lies.’ Jay’s voice was weary. He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently towards the stairs. ‘Go and get dressed while I make some breakfast.’

  ‘How can you think about food at a time like this?’

  ‘I function better when I’m fed. I have to consider what our best move would be.’

  Upstairs in her room, Maggie put on the clothes she had been wearing the previous evening. Not even the Sunday Examiner could make them sexy, she thought, viewing herself with a grimace.

  In spite of her protest about food, the aroma of frying bacon wafting tantalisingly up the stairs had aroused her appetite, and she ate the rashers and fried tomatoes which Jay put in front of her without further demur.

  She was pouring herself a second cup of coffee when someone rapped briskly at the door.

  Maggie tensed, spilling some coffee on the table, as the unseen caller rattled the handle, and pushed against the ungiving timbers.

  ‘Jay.’ It was a voice she recognised instantly. ‘Get th
is bloody door open. We need to talk.’

  Jay was already at the door, drawing back the bolt. As it swung open, he said, ‘We do indeed, Sebastian.’

  Sebastian stepped into the kitchen, his face set. ‘I tried to get here before the mob, and warn you,’ he said. ‘But I missed a turning a couple of miles back, and found myself going in a circle. I can never find this damned place when I need to.’ He looked at Maggie and his lips tightened. ‘So it is true,’ he went on, half to himself. ‘Why the hell are you here, Ginger, instead of four thousand miles away?’

  ‘It’s a long story. And this happens to be my house. I’m entitled to be here.’

  ‘It would just make my job a damned sight easier if you weren’t,’ Sebastian said crossly. ‘If that’s coffee, I’ll have some.’

  ‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?’ Maggie demanded, standing her ground. ‘Well, I don’t. It’s all down to you that I’m in this mess. You had no right to use my cottage without my permission.’

  ‘If I’d asked, you’d have refused, and I felt it was an emergency.’ Sebastian spread his hands in appeal. ‘Jay needed a bolthole. You’ve encountered those hyenas out there. You’ve seen what they can be like.’

  ‘I’m finding out more all the time,’ she agreed bitterly. ‘I gather I’m about to feature in the Sunday tabloids as Jay Delaney’s latest floozie.’

  ‘Floozie?’ Jay froze in the act of passing Sebastian his coffee, and his lips twitched. ‘Where the hell did you dig that word up from? For a publishing lady, Ms Carlyle, your vocabulary …’

  ‘Oh, leave me alone,’ Maggie shouted. ‘By Monday morning I’ll be lucky to have a bloody job at all, thanks to you. Through no fault of mine, I’m going to be dragged through all kinds of slime—labelled as some kind of tart. I have a career—a life. What is my boss going to think—the authors I deal with—my friends?’

  Jay groaned softly. ‘Maggie,’ he said reaching out a hand to her.

  ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’ She recoiled. ‘Of course it doesn’t bother you to find yourself in some sordid front-page scandal. As far as you’re concerned, the only bad publicity is no publicity at all.’

  ‘Is it?’ All trace of amusement was wiped from his face. ‘How little you know.’

  ‘Look,’ Seb interrupted. ‘We’re going to get nowhere by fighting amongst ourselves. Mags, I realise how upset you are, and heaven knows you have every reason to hate me, but if we stick together, we may be able to find some way to minimise the damage.’

  ‘I’d like to know how.’ Her body was rigid, but she was trembling inside.

  ‘By giving them a story of our own—one that they’ll have to use. By turning this whole mess to our advantage.’ Seb spoke eagerly, his eyes fixed on her pale face.

  ‘I hope,’ Jay said slowly and ominously, ‘that you’re not about to suggest what I think …’

  ‘What choice do we have?’ Seb swung back to his sister-in-law. ‘Mags, you’re not going to like this, and neither is Jay, but I want you to let me tell the press that you’re engaged to him—that you’re going to be married.’

  ‘No.’ They spoke in forceful unison.

  Seb groaned. ‘Think, both of you. It could work. You’ve been secretly engaged for some time, but you weren’t going to announce anything until Jay had finished filming the current McGuire series. Then the Debbie Burrows business blew up, and you decided, Mags, that you were going to stand publicly beside your man—proclaim your faith in him. But Jay wanted to protect you. So you brought him down here this weekend to talk him round, to make him see that your love for each other was the only thing that mattered.’ He paused. ‘Well?’

  ‘Very good,’ Jay said sardonically. ‘I can’t wait to see the film.’

  Seb sighed. ‘Sneer if you want to, but I tell you it will work. They’ll lap it up. So, what do you say?’

  Jay shrugged, his face expressionless. ‘It’s up to Maggie. She’s the injured party in all this. She may feel that being called my fiancée is an even greater stigma than being my mistress.’

  She said chokingly, ‘I wouldn’t marry you if …’

  ‘If I were the last man on earth,’ he completed for her, his tone derisive. ‘Well, I’m not asking you, lady. This is a cover story we’re inventing, not a marriage contract. It’s an emergency measure, pure and simple, and when the emergency is over we both walk away. So let’s decide now, yes or no, before the mob out there get impatient and start kicking the door down.’

  ‘I know it’s not ideal, Maggie,’ Seb put an arm round her shoulders. ‘But it’s the only way I can think of to get you off the hook.’

  ‘There must be some other way,’ she said desperately. ‘Couldn’t we just say that Jay happened to be passing, got caught in the hurricane, and needed shelter?’

  ‘Maggie,’ her brother-in-law said gently. ‘You don’t “happen to pass” World’s End. It’s in the middle of nowhere. No one would believe that for a moment.’

  ‘Well, tell them that he rented the place—and that I’m just the housekeeper.’

  ‘Housekeepers,’ Jay said sardonically, ‘rarely answer the door in their nightgowns at noon. They’ll have a field day with a cock-and-bull explanation like that.’

  ‘In other words, I have to pretend I’m your fiancée,’ she said bitterly. ‘What precisely do I have to do?’

  ‘Try and look happy, and say as little as possible,’ Seb said, his tone coaxing.

  Jay’s face was stony. ‘Tell her the truth, Seb. We won’t get away with just that.’ He turned to Maggie. ‘I shall be expected to kiss you, Ms Carlyle, for the benefit of the photographers. It will be a long, lingering kiss, but your chastity will not be affected, because I shall act it.’ He paused to allow that to sink in. ‘All you need do is stand there—and try not to throw up afterwards, because that might spoil the effect.’

  Less than an hour ago, she thought numbly, she had been lying in his arms, wanting his kisses so badly that she had been panicked into flight. Now, the first time his mouth touched hers, it would be in front of a crowd of reporters and photographers—and he would be acting. She told herself that she should be glad.

  Her voice constricted, she said, ‘I—I’ll try.’

  ‘Make it a good try,’ he advised succinctly. He looked at Seb. ‘Once this farce is over, I’d like a lift back to town. There’s no point in staying here, now that they’ve found me.’

  ‘Of course.’ Seb looked at his sister-in-law. ‘What about it, Ginger? Do you want to stay on here?’

  ‘I’d rather get back—if you’ve got room for me.’

  ‘Naturally, I have. It’ll look better, too, if you and Jay leave together.’

  ‘We could even hold hands in the back seat,’ Jay agreed, sounding bored.

  ‘Well, go and get your things together.’ Seb was making swift notes on the back of an envelope. ‘I’ll issue this statement, and we’ll leave as soon as they’ve got their pictures.’ He gave Maggie a wary smile. ‘Cheer up, love. Just think, by breakfast time tomorrow, you’re going to be the most envied woman in Britain.’

  ‘I can’t think why,’ Maggie snapped, and swept towards the stairs with her head held high.

  ‘Well, I sure as hell won’t be the most envied man,’ Jay called after her. ‘Do us both a favour, lady, and leave that sweater upstairs for the photo call.’

  Facing the battery of cameras and questions half an hour later was one of the worst ordeals of her life. But for Jay’s arm, cool and impersonal as a steel bar, round her waist, she thought she might have collapsed on to the floor, her legs were shaking so much.

  She was smiling so brightly that her face was aching with the strain of it. She could feel her eyes beginning to glaze over. At the same time she had to admire the way Jay and Seb dealt with the torrent of interrogation, fielding the questions and returning answers that adroitly hedged the absolute truth.

  But she could read loud and clear what the reporters were thinking. What on earth does he see in h
er?

  She had reluctantly complied with Jay’s request, and left the shapeless sweater on the bed. She had even, despising herself, brushed her hair and put on some make-up, but she still wouldn’t set the world on fire, and she knew it.

  Inevitably it became her turn to be questioned. ‘Ms Carlyle.’ It was Jeff Alcott speaking. ‘Every woman in Britain will want to know—how did you tame Hal McGuire?’

  ‘I don’t think I have. In fact, I wouldn’t dream of trying. He’s fine just as he is.’ Was it really herself saying the words, she wondered dazedly.

  ‘How did he propose?’ someone else called out.

  ‘Very romantically.’ Nervous wreck that she was, Maggie scented a chance for vengeance. ‘It was a wonderful moonlit night, and he went down on one knee—with a bouquet of red roses.’

  ‘You’re forgetting the champagne, my sweet,’ Jay said silkily, his arm tightening perceptibly round her.

  ‘Did you drink it out of her shoe, Jay?’ a reporter called, laughing.

  ‘That’s rather old-fashioned,’ Jay returned. ‘However, we don’t intend to supply you with every intimate detail of our courtship, gentlemen.’ The smile he turned on Maggie smouldered with lust, but the ice in the blue eyes warned her unequivocally not to play any more games.

  A tinge of colour rose in her face as she tried hard not to consider the implications of what he had just said.

  ‘One last question, Ms Carlyle.’ Alcott again. ‘How did you feel to learn that your romantic lover had been accused of rape?’

  ‘Naturally, I was shocked—and hurt.’ She felt Jay tense beside her; saw Sebastian’s head come up sharply.

  ‘You didn’t consider breaking off the engagement?’

  ‘Never.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘When I said I was hurt, Mr Alcott, I didn’t mean on my own behalf.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I was hurt for Jay. Because I know that he’s never raped anyone in his life. He simply isn’t capable of such a brutal act. McGuire is a violent man, but that’s just a part Jay plays on television. I know the real man, and he’s totally different.’

  ‘Would you like him to give up McGuire?’