Wild Lady Part 25

Edward glanced from one to the other. "I'll leave you to sort it out, while I make a call from the car."

"Well, there," Claudia said, as soon as her father had gone. "What could be better? Now I won't have to feel guilty about dragging you out of your way." She put out her hand in a formal and unmistakable gesture of farewell.

She wanted him to shake her hand? After last night? He couldn't believe it. But he took it, because it gave him a last chance to be near to her. But he didn't shake it, he held it and had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms, to pour out his feelings. But she looked so distant, so far from him. So, instead, he leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek. "You don't have to feel guilty, Claudia," he told her. "About anything."

Despite the overheated temperature of the hospital Claudia's hand felt cold in his and she shivered a little. "I'll never forget what you did for me. Truly. I hope ... one day..." She hoped one day he would discover a new love, a new happiness, but he wouldn't want her sympathy any more than he wanted her love. When she stepped back she had a smile firmly fixed to her lips. "Good-bye, Gabriel," she said. "Mind how you jump out of airplanes..."

He wanted to seize her, make her look at him while he told her how much he loved her, how much he would always love her. But he didn't because he knew she wouldn't want to know. And with a little flutter of her fingers she turned and walked away from him.

"Good-bye, my love," he said, softly. She didn't hear him. She was already clipping smartly down the corridor, head held high apparently oblivious of the ripple of head-turning recognition as she pa.s.sed. She turned a corner and disappeared from sight. For a moment Mac remained where he was, then, unable to bear the emptiness he began to follow her, breaking into a run as she disappeared through the door to the carpark. But then he stopped. The ever present newsmen were there, no doubt alerted by a porter with a contact on a news desk. They surrounded her as she waited at the curb for her father and she threw back her head and laughed at something one of them had said.

He could still see her, Mac thought, but she was gone. She was back in her own world. He'd known how it would be. But he hadn't realized just how hard it would be to let her go, how much it would hurt.

"Joanna is going to be fine. Just a few b.u.mps and bruises." Her clear voice carried to back to him. "When Private Lives goes on tour later in the year she'll be playing Amanda, you can put money on it."

"And what'll you be doing Claudia," one of the men asked.

"Having fun, darling, what else?" And she blew them a kiss before stepping into her father's Daimler.

Claudia Beaumont. Her name was like a brand between his eyes; her scent clung to his skin. She was a hot ache that wouldn't go away, Before he met her, he had believed Claudia was just another trivial, careless, almost certainly amoral woman. He had learned that he was wrong, in every respect. She was warm, funny, loving. Who else would have rushed to offer comfort to a girl who had done everything in her power to frighten and hurt her, who might even have blinded her?

He frowned. He had been so certain that it had been a man who had been behind the campaign of terror. He should have insisted on speaking to Joanna himself. While the slashed dress, the letters had fitted a certain kind of female cattiness, it had been a man in the delivery van, watching the apartment ... And there was something else. What? He rubbed his hand hard over his face. Something. He needed sleep so badly. Maybe with a clear head - The urgent burble of the telephone cut across his train of thought. "Yes?" he snapped, bad-temperedly.

"Mac. I need help." It was Adele and something in her voice loaded his blood with adrenaline and he was immediately alert. "I've started having contractions and Tony flew to Cardiff first thing. I phoned him but there was a problem with the plane -"

"Where are you?"

"At the airfield."

"Idiot!"

"Thanks, and I love you too. Someone's got to keep this place ticking over while you're off holding Miss Beaumont's pretty white -" She broke off.

"Adele?"

"Ummm. Mac, this is a bit tricky. Everything is moving rather quicker than I was led to expect. I've called an ambulance but -"

"I'll meet you at the hospital."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's not you I want. I need Tony. Now..." Her breath caught on a gasp. "Oh ... ooohhh. Mac! Do something!"

"Cross your legs, sweetheart. I'll get him to you somehow."

"Are you sure you did the right thing, Claudia?" her father asked as they drove out of the hospital car park.

"Oh, yes. Joanna must come to me."

"I wasn't talking about Joanna Gray. I was referring to Gabriel MacIntyre." She glanced up, startled. "He seems ... fond of you." She didn't respond and he continued. "He's quite a hero, you know. He got a gong for something he did in the Gulf."

She wasn't a bit surprised to hear it. "Did he? How do you know that?"

"It was in the paper yesterday. Your little contretemps in some restaurant made quite a splash and someone must have been doing their homework."

Claudia groaned. "Oh, good grief. I'd forgotten all about that."

"There was quite a bit about his wife, too. He was married to Jenny Callendar ... the climber? But I expect you knew that."

"Yes, he told me." And after that he'd still had the patience to listen to her petty problems, the generosity to make love with her when he had seen her need for him, as if she was the last woman in creation. It made her heartsick that he should have been so exposed because of his determination to protect her.

"He's a good man, Claudia. Luke checked him out."

Claudia stared at her father. "Luke did what?"

He shrugged. "Mac promised to look after you, sweetheart, but Luke didn't know anything about him."

"Gabriel wouldn't hurt me, Dad." She sat back and closed her eyes. And she wouldn't hurt him. She'd done her best to see that he wasn't. More than her best. "He's about as close to a 'parfit gentil knyght' as a girl can hope for these days. He even knew how to bow out without making a fuss."

"That's a pity."

"Oh?"

"I was rather hoping he would know when to hang in there. He's the first man I've met who looked capable of keeping you in line."

Claudia forced a laugh. "That's reason enough, don't you think, to beat a hasty retreat." And before her father could think of a suitable response she changed the subject. "Now, tell me about Diana. I hear you took her to the theater last night."

Claudia left the salon after a couple of hours during which she had been treated like a Dresden shepherdess by a stylist shattered by the ruins of her hair. She had been pampered, cooed over by his staff, offered every combination of coffee, tea and snack that it was possible to dream up. They all a.s.sumed that her distracted mood was the result of the disaster that had befallen her hair. She didn't disabuse them.

She'd sent Gabriel away. She couldn't believe she'd done that. Another few days, a week even, wouldn't have made such a difference, would it?

Except of course, that it would have. Once she was out of danger there could be no pretense. She would have to admit her feelings. Then he would feel guilty for not loving her in return and he would try to pretend. She couldn't do that to him. Or to herself.

"Claudia?" She realized that her approval was awaited and she gave her attention to her reflection. "What do you think?"

"It's ... oh, heavens, it's so different." She turned her head to the side. "I've never had short hair, before. I feel positively lightheaded." She touched the soft golden tendrils that curled around her ears and lay on her neck. It gave her a gamin look that was entirely new. "I just love it." There was an almost audible sigh of relief from around the room and she laughed. "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"Just stay away from paint and that will be thanks enough," the stylist warned her. She'd spun them a story about knocking a tin of paint from a stepladder at the theater and they hadn't questioned it.

Back on the pavement she didn't know what to do. For days her whole life had been dictated by Gabriel, now suddenly, she was on her own. She ought to go back to the flat, try and sleep for a while. The flat. The paint. She needed to organize an emergency clean up so that Joanna wouldn't have to face the mess she'd made. She shuddered as she thought of it and wondered, briefly, if Gabriel had been right.

Tony didn't wait for his plane to be repaired. He borrowed a car and beat Mac to the hospital by seconds and they met in the entrance to the maternity unit.

"How is she?" Tony demanded.

"In a hurry to be a mother. You'd better get in there."

Tony hesitated. "I hope I don't faint."

"I advise against it, she'd never let you live it down."

"No." He dragged his hand through his hair. "You're right." Then he looked at Mac more closely. "If you don't mind my saying so, you look as if you could do with a bed yourself."

"Mr. Singleton?" A young nurse looked at the two men and waited for one of them to own up. Tony stepped forward. "Your wife is getting impatient. I wouldn't keep her waiting if you want to see your baby make its entrance into the world."

Mac watched him go. Then he sank onto a padded bench that lined the wall and tried very hard not to think how it could have been for him, if he hadn't made the mistake of marrying a woman who put herself before everything.

He'd so admired Jenny's single-mindedness when he had first met her. Her lack of fear. Her determination to succeed.

It hadn't taken him long to discover how much blind selfishness it took to fuel that kind of ambition. And to discover the only reason she'd married him was because she thought he had money. He'd just inherited Pinkneys Abbey and she had a.s.sumed, quite wrongly, that he would be able to finance any and all expeditions she cared to pick. Expeditions of which she would be the leader so that all the glory would be hers.

If she'd bothered to ask he would have explained what three lots of death duties in ten years did to an estate like Pinkneys, that inheriting it was a burden and not the bottomless piggy bank she had antic.i.p.ated. It would have saved them both a lot of heartache.

"Hey, Mac." A touch on his shoulder brought him awake and Tony was grinning down at him idiotically. "It's a boy. He's ... oh G.o.d, Mac, it was amazing. I mean I was there."

"I take it you didn't faint. How's Adele?"

"Happy." Tony's state of mind was not in question. "Come and see them. I mean ... it was incredible."

"Just try and stop me," Mac said, easing himself up off the bench. He felt like h.e.l.l and probably looked it, he thought, as he rubbed his hand over his face and realized he hadn't shaved. "Tony," he said, as his brother-in-law turned away eager to get back to his wife. He looked back and Mac held out his hand. "Congratulations."

Adele was sitting up in bed, holding her baby and grinning from ear to ear. "Good grief, Mac," she exclaimed, on seeing him. "Don't come any closer or you'll frighten my poor baby out of his wits." She handed the infant over to his father. "What on earth did that woman do to you last night?" she demanded.

"Last night?" Mac repeated, blankly.

"Last night. You're keeping a close watch on her, right? So I don't imagine you left her in London while you spent the night at the cottage?"

"You're too clever for me, Adele. I don't know what I'll do without you until you come back to work."

"Come back to work? You must be joking. I'm a mother." She beamed as if no one else in the entire world had managed the feat. "That's a full time job. Why don't you ask Miss Beaumont to give you hand? It might keep her out of trouble."

Mac wasn't prepared to celebrate his unexpected victory just yet. He knew his sister too well. "You just be careful. I might do that." His forehead creased in concentration. He had been dreaming about Claudia when Tony woke him. She had been explaining something to him. Something important.

Adele touched his arm. "Mac? Are you all right?"

He patted her hand. "Sure. I just need a few hours sleep." He bent over her and kissed her. "Well done, sweetheart. You've earned straight sixes for both technical merit and artistic achievement." He turned to his nephew and touched his downy head. "Right, then young Harry. Let's have a look at you." He took the baby from Tony, cradled him for a moment.

Tony and Adele exchanged a glance. "Actually, we thought of calling him James," Adele said.

"He's the first boy of the new generation. He should be named for his grandfather." He looked up, met Adele's eyes and smiled. "He's beautiful." He handed the baby back to his mother and then turned to Tony, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I hate to break up the party, but hadn't you better give some thought as to how you're going to get that plane back from Cardiff?"

"What plane?" Tony asked, still grinning idiotically.

Mac laughed. "I'm kidding. No one in their right mind would let you loose with an aircraft right now. I'll send someone else to do the job."

Someone else to do the job. A stand-in. Like Joanna Gray. That's what Claudia had been telling him in his dream. "I telephoned her yesterday evening." Why was that so important? He dragged his hand over his face as he headed for the carpark. Half an hour's nap on a hospital bench hadn't exactly set him up to think straight.

He climbed into the Landcruiser, slid the key into the ignition. Telephoned. Why was that so important? He hadn't stopped to listen to the telephone tapes last night. Now he wished he had. It would save him having to waste time going back to the airfield.

While he sifted through them, trying them each in turn in the transcriber and he found Claudia's at the third attempt. She'd called Fizz. It was just a friendly, how are you, how's the b.u.mp coming along, call. She'd called her father to tell him that she needed a few days off and suggesting Joanna Gray as a stand-in. Then she'd called Joanna. "I telephoned her yesterday evening."

He sat there and began to go through what had happened right from the beginning, from the moment he had noticed the envelope sticking out of Claudia's parachute pack until Joanna threw the can of paint over her. And then he knew what had been bothering him. He knew he had to speak to Joanna Gray and he didn't have time to catch up on his sleep.

By the time Claudia had organized a crew of decorators, she was asleep on her feet. But there was no point in returning to the flat - she'd get no peace there with workman all over the place, making a noise, wanting to use her kitchen to make their tea.

Melanie didn't look surprised to see her; she didn't even ask any questions. She simply steered Claudia into her bedroom, found her a clean nightdress and tucked her up in bed. "I'll give you a call in plenty of time for curtain up," she promised. "Don't worry about a thing."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

JOANNA Gray was sitting up, staring blankly at a magazine. For a moment Mac watched her through the gla.s.s. Then he tapped on the door. She jumped nervously and when she looked up he saw from her eyes that she recognized him but he introduced himself anyway.

"My name is Gabriel MacIntyre. I'm a friend of Claudia Beaumont's. Can I talk to you, Miss Gray?"

"Why? What do want?" She edged up the bed away from him.

"I believe that Claudia may still be in some danger but I don't want to frighten her unnecessarily. Can I ask you some questions?"

"I'm not going to do anything else," she declared. "I promise you. I promised her -"

"And she believed you," he said, rea.s.suringly. "So do I. May I?" He didn't wait for her permission before lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.

"Then why are you here?" Joanna asked, nervously.

"Because I want you to tell me exactly what you did to Claudia and how you did it."

"But I told her -"

"Tell me."

Joanna shivered. Mac had spoken softly, but there was no mistaking the determination in his voice. "That's all?"

"That's all."

"What about anyone who helped me? Will you want to know who -"