Pagan Enchantment

CHAPTER TWO

‘HEY, how did—Merry?’ Vanda frowned as Merry rushed straight past her into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. ‘Merry?’ Vanda knocked on the door anxiously. ‘What happened? Was it just an approach after all?’ Anger entered her voice.

Merry sat numbly on the bedroom chair, her thoughts racing—and all of them telling her it had all been a terrible mistake, that what Gideon Steele had told her couldn’t possibly be true of her!

‘Merry, can I come in?’ Vanda requested gently, softly opening the door as she received no answer. ‘Oh, love!’ she groaned as she saw Merry’s pale face, coming down on her knees in front of the chair. ‘What did he do to you?’

‘Do?’ Merry repeated dazedly. ‘Nothing. He didn’t do anything to me.’

‘Then why—Damn!’ Vanda swore as the doorbell rang, standing up to go and answer it.

Merry looked panic-stricken. ‘I don’t want to see him. I won’t see him!’

‘All right, love,’ the other girl soothed. ‘I’ll tell him you haven’t got back yet. I’m not an actress for nothing!’ She closed the bedroom door firmly behind her, a determined glint in her eyes.

Merry heard the flat door being opened, the murmur of voices, and then silence. She would never be able to thank Vanda enough for getting rid of Gideon Steele. She needed time to think right now, to get her thoughts together—to forget what he had told her.

She looked down at the carpet as the bedroom door opened once more. ‘Thanks, Vanda,’ she murmured, ‘I didn’t want to talk to him again. You see, he has some wild story—–’

‘It isn’t wild, Meredith,’ his husky voice interrupted her.

‘You!’ she gasped, looking up at Gideon Steele with wide green eyes, her hands clutching convulsively at the arms of the chair. Vanda hadn’t managed to put him off after all!

‘Yes,’ he sighed wearily, slightly pale beneath his tan. ‘Can I talk to you?’

She doubted this man requested very often, he was the type who did things without asking anyone’s permission. But she didn’t feel in the least warmed by the fact that he was asking her now. What he had done to her had been cruel and thoughtless. He should have made sure of his facts before confronting her with such a ridiculous story. As it was, she was in no mood to listen to anything further he might have to say.

Some of what she was thinking must have shown in her face. ‘I think we have to, Meredith,’ he encouraged softly, closing the door behind him.

Her head went back, her eyes defiant. ‘If you want to apologise—–’

He shook his head. ‘I can’t apologise for telling the truth. I can apologise for the way I told you. I had no idea you didn’t know about your adoption.’

She stood up, moving about the room with agitated movements. ‘I wish you’d stop saying that,’ she snapped. ‘You can’t know how wrong you are,’ she gave a scornful laugh. ‘I’m so like my father that what you’re telling me is ridiculous. Ever since I can remember people have remarked on the similarity.’

His hands were thrust into his trousers pockets, his height dwarfing the tiny bedroom. ‘Maybe they were just being kind—or maybe you do have the same colouring.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve heard that adoption societies try to do that, match the child up with at least one of the parents. Any facial similarity would have to be a coincidence,’ he shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen two people more alike than you and Anthea.’

‘Your stepmother,’ she said bitterly.

‘That’s right,’ he nodded grimly. ‘When you walked into the restaurant today it was like seeing Anthea as she must have looked twenty years ago.’

‘Maybe I do bear some resemblance to this woman—–’

‘It isn’t just a resemblance, Meredith,’ Gideon Steele shook his head. ‘Look, I can show you a photograph if you like,’ his hand went into the breast pocket of his jacket.

‘No!’ she stopped him in the action of taking out his wallet. ‘I don’t want to see any photograph.’ She turned away, absently twisting the signet ring round on her right hand, the ring that had been a birthday gift several years ago from her parents. ‘It won’t make any difference,’ she told him stiffly.

‘Scared, Meredith?’ he taunted gruffly.

‘Certainly not!’ She spun round, an angry frown between her eyes. ‘I have nothing to be frightened of,’ she said haughtily. ‘It’s quite simple, you have the wrong girl,’ she repeated her earlier claim.

‘The right one,’ he corrected softly, running an agitated hand through the darkness of his hair, revealing several streaks of grey beneath the darkness. ‘God, I had no idea it was going to be this difficult!’ he scowled.

‘What did you expect?’ Merry shouted angrily. ‘That you could calmly walk up to some unsuspecting girl and tell her that her parents aren’t her parents any more, and that some unknown woman is? If you thought that you’re a fool!’

‘Meredith—–’ he began warningly.

‘I don’t care,’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘You had no right barging into my life with such a story! If I were of a nervous disposition—–’

‘Which you obviously aren’t,’ he drawled hardly.

‘Luckily for you,’ she snapped. ‘But if I were I could have been totally destroyed by what you just told me. As it is, I think you’d better go back to your source—Harrington, I presume,’ she added drily. ‘And tell him it’s back to the drawing-board. Why do you want to find this girl anyway? Has your stepmother died and left her the family fortune?’

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Would it change your mind if she had?’ he taunted.

She gave an angry gasp. ‘How dare you! I have no intention—–’

‘Calm down, Meredith,’ he mocked. ‘Anthea is still very much alive. She would just like to see her daughter.’

‘Whom she abandoned as a baby, by the sound of it!’

If she had expected an angry defence to her scorn she was mistaken, Gideon Steele only nodded abruptly. ‘Anthea hasn’t denied that. But it hasn’t stopped her feeling guilty for the last twenty years, for wanting to see her daughter.’

‘Has she ever stopped to consider that perhaps her daughter doesn’t want to see her?’ Merry snapped.

‘I only said she wanted to see her daughter, I didn’t say she had made any attempt to do so. My stepmother has no idea I’ve sought you out. She certainly doesn’t know I’ve found you.’

‘But I keep telling you you haven’t,’ she said exasperatedly.

His mouth was a thin determined line. ‘There’s a sure way of settling this, Meredith—–’

‘Please call me Merry,’ she invited irritably. ‘I prefer it. And how can this be settled?’

‘Talk to your father—–’

‘No!’ she almost shouted, glaring at him.

‘Then you are frightened—–’

‘I am not!’ she snapped. ‘I just don’t think it’s fair to put something like that to my father. He’s never really got over losing my mother, all he needs is my asking him if he’s really my father!’ She gave Gideon Steele a disgusted look. ‘I won’t do that to him.’

‘Then take my word for it—–’

‘I won’t do that either,’ she told him coldly, giving the impression she would never take his word for anything. ‘I’ve already told you, I’m not the girl you’re looking for, so why don’t you leave me alone?’

‘Ordinarily I wouldn’t have bothered to find you in the first place,’ he said harshly. ‘Anthea’s past is her own affair—and my father’s if she chooses to tell him about it. But she told us both about you last year.’

‘Why?’ Merry frowned.

‘If you aren’t her daughter why are you interested?’ His eyes were narrowed.

She flushed. ‘You involved me in this, I just wanted to know all the facts.’

‘If you aren’t the Meredith Charles I’m looking for then I don’t see the necessity of acquainting you with them.’ He moved to the door. ‘As you suggested, I’ll go back to my source. And I suggest you go to your father.’

‘I—–’

‘I’ll be back, Meredith,’ he warned. ‘And if necessary, I’ll bring Harrington and the dossier to prove the truth to you.’ He swung the door open. ‘I’d advise you to be prepared. Go and see your father, Meredith,’ he said softly. ‘After all, what real harm can it do? I’m sure there must be some way you can ask Malcolm Charles if he is your father without being blunt about it. I’ll be seeing you, Meredith,’ he promised before leaving.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Vanda hurried into the room as soon as Gideon Steele had left the apartment, ‘but he just wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ She grimaced. ‘And he isn’t the sort of man you can argue with.’

‘No,’ she agreed vaguely, pulling her suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe. ‘I’m going to see my father for a few days, Vanda. I—If Mr Steele should come back, you don’t know where I’ve gone, all right?’

‘Are you that frightened of him?’ Vanda asked in an awed voice.

She gave a taut smile. ‘I’m not frightened of him. I just—I don’t like him.’ And she didn’t, she didn’t like his self-assurance, his arrogance—and most of all she didn’t like the things he had told her.

‘He didn’t offer you a part, then?’ Vanda sat on the bed as she watched Merry pack.

Only that of his stepsister, she thought hysterically. It was unthinkable that a man like that should be any sort of relative of hers, no matter how remote. ‘No,’ she answered calmly enough. ‘And as the play has folded I thought I’d go and see Dad for a few days. He gets a little lonely without my mother.’

In fact her father seemed sprightlier than ever. His job in the nearest town at the branch of one of the countries leading insurance agencies kept him very busy, filling most of his evenings at least.

He met her at the station, hugging her before taking her case out to the car. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I got your call,’ he smiled at her, his hair still as black as her own, his eyes more hazel than green; he was still a very handsome man, despite being in his late forties.

Merry listened to all his chatter about the locals in the little village she had lived in most of her life, knowing all the two hundred or so inhabitants by name, and most of their pets too! After the impersonality of London it always warmed her to return to Wildton, and she waved to several of the neighbours children as they played in their gardens.

‘Nothing’s changed,’ she said with pleasure as she followed her father into the small bungalow that seemed so empty without her mother’s bustling presence in the kitchen.

‘You have,’ her father said softly, putting her case in her room, filled with the posters of pop stars she had put up when in her teens still on the walls, the patchwork quilt on the bed, the bookcase full of the romance novels she still devoured by their hundreds, an old guitar propped in the corner of the room.

She looked sharply at her father. ‘What do you mean?’

He shrugged, a sad smile to his handsome face. ‘When you left two years ago you were still a little girl, now you suddenly seem grown up.’

Merry’s bottom lip quivered, and suddenly she was in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder as if she would never stop. She felt safe in her father’s arms, safe and secure, with Gideon Steele pushed firmly to the back of her mind.

‘Hey!’ her father finally chided, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Surely growing up isn’t that painful?’ he teased, his gentle strength comforting her.

‘I’m afraid it is.’ She wiped her cheeks with the handkerchief he gave her, her smile rather weak.

‘A man?’ he prompted softly.

‘I—Yes,’ she decided, knowing the truth was too much to even think about. ‘A man.’

‘Now I definitely feel old,’ he smiled. ‘My daughter’s first unhappy love affair!’

‘Oh, Dad!’ she sniffed, smiling broadly. Everything seemed so normal when she was with her father, when she could feel his love, could see their similarity in looks, that Gideon Steele’s suggestion now seemed as ludicrous as she had said it was. Seeing her father’s gentle love for her she was ashamed of ever doubting him.

It was an enjoyable time- at home, and yet she was aware of a subtle difference in her own behaviour. She was unsettled, irritable, and it wasn’t just because of her lack of a job when she returned to London. She found herself watching her father with a keenness she had never felt before, felt anger at herself for noticing that the similarity between them was only superficial, their colouring going a long way towards giving the impression of father and daughter. There was also the fact that both her parents were tall. She had always credited her own diminutive height to one of her grandmothers, but now she had an uneasy feeling inside her. She was starting to believe Gideon Steele’s fantastic claim!

The day she came home from an afternoon’s shopping and found him sitting in the lounge with her father she knew that he, at least, was convinced there was nothing fantastic about it.

‘A friend of yours from London,’ her father smiled as she came in, carrying two cans of beer through to the lounge.

Merry wouldn’t, even in her wildest dreams, ever call Gideon Steele a friend. Although he gave every indication of being one as he stood up to greet her.

‘Meridith!’ He gave her a warm smile, accepting one of the cans of beer from her father. ‘Thanks,’ he accepted gratefully, turning back to Merry. ‘I’ve just been telling your father how we met.’

She swallowed hard. ‘You have?’

She had known he was here before she entered the house, had seen the Ferrari outside and knew no one else could own that black monster. He was several inches taller than her father, more powerfully built, and looked extremely fit in the fitted black shirt and black trousers. He seemed to dominate the whole room—and the people in it!

‘Yes,’ he continued to smile. ‘It’s the only good thing Harry Anderson has ever done in his life, I should think.’

‘Harry?’ she echoed sharply, wondering what on earth he had been telling her father. Of course, her father already knew about Harry, she had told him all about the disastrous play. But what could Harry possibly have to do with Gideon Steele and herself?

‘He sounds an atrocious person,’ her father grinned.

‘Oh, he is,’ Gideon nodded. ‘Not the sort of man Meredith should associate herself with.’

‘I—–’

‘And a waste of her acting talent,’ he added softly, eyeing her mockingly as he drank the beer straight from the can with obvious enjoyment.

‘Really, I don’t—–’

‘I’d better get going.’ Her father looked at his wrist-watch. ‘Time for work, I’m afraid,’ he told Gideon ruefully.

The other man nodded. ‘I understand.’

And Merry knew how he understood! If he had done enough research on her to know her background then he also knew that her father was an insurance agent, that he spent most of his evenings visiting clients, usually able to catch people in at that time of day.

‘I’m sure Merry will be pleased to get you some dinner,’ her father continued goodnaturedly. ‘I’ve had mine, love,’ he kissed her absently on the cheek. ‘See you later. You too, I hope, Gideon?’

Merry looked sharply at Gideon Steele. It hadn’t taken her father and him long to get on to a first-name basis. And there was still the puzzle of what he had told her father about how they met.

‘I’m not sure yet, Malcolm,’ he answered easily, his gaze firmly fixed on Merry.

‘I understand,’ her father nodded. ‘Don’t be too hard on him, pet,’ he advised Merry before leaving the room.

Colour flooded her cheeks at the assumption her father had made that Gideon Steele was the man from her ‘first unhappy love affair’, and her blushes deepened as she saw the derision in Gideon Steele’s eyes.

‘What are you doing here?’ she snapped ungraciously.

He shrugged and sat down again, perfectly relaxed. ‘I told you I’d be back once I was sure of my facts.’

Her breath caught in her throat. ‘And now you are?’

‘I’m sorry, Merry, but yes, I am.’

There was no doubting his sympathy, or the look of regret in the deep blue eyes, and the emotions sat strangely on such a harshly determined man.

He stood up to pace the room, having discarded the empty beer can in the bin. ‘I went back to Harrington, told him to check on all the facts. They led straight back to you, Merry. I really am sorry,’ he repeated deeply. ‘I gather you haven’t spoken to your father?’

‘No! And I’m not going to,’ she added fiercely.

‘But you do believe me?’ he prompted softly.

She wetted her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, wishing she could say no, but knowing it would be a lie. A man like Gideon Steele was unlikely to be wrong once, let alone twice! If he said she was adopted, that her mother was really his stepmother Anthea, then she had to believe him. But it changed nothing for her, made no difference to the love she felt for her parents. Anthea Steele had given her up when she was a baby, so she had no claims on her now, moral or otherwise.

‘Yes, I believe you,’ she answered in a cold voice.

‘So you’ll come and see Anthea?’

‘No.’

‘Good God, girl—–! She’s your mother!’ he ground out, his mouth a thin angry line, the tautness of his body telling her of the control he was exerting. ‘She brought you into the world—–’

‘And just as soon deserted me, by the sound of it!’ Her eyes glittered deeply green in her own anger.

‘She was very young, she’s only thirty-eight now—–’

‘I don’t care how old she was. She gave me up, she can’t come along twenty years later and try to claim a family love. It would be disloyal to my father to even acknowledge her existence.’

Gideon Steele shook his head. ‘I’m sure you’re doing your father an injustice. He seems a very reasonable man.’

‘Whether he is or not is not a subject for discussion.’

‘Drop that haughty act with me, Merry—–’

‘It isn’t an act, Mr Steele,’ she snapped. ‘I am not interested in meeting your stepmother, because as far as I’m concerned that’s all she is. My own mother paced the floor with me as a baby, fretted for me when I started school, worried about me when I was ill, encouraged me through my exams, waited up for me on my first date, celebrated with me when I got into drama school. Can your stepmother do any of that?’ Her scorn was unmistakable.

Gideon Steele drew in an angry breath, a pulse beating erratically in his lean cheek, his shirt pulled tautly across his chest as he thrust his hands into the back pockets of his trousers. He looked lean and powerful in that moment—a man far from beaten in this argument.