not,’ he drawled, pouring the coffee.
‘Why not?’ she attacked. She had driven up here, she could drive back out again!
‘You remember the ford you crossed about half a mile from here?’ He arched dark brows, down on his haunches beside the low table.
She had been so blinded by the rain by that time that she had been lucky to stay on the road, let alone remember crossing a ford; the whole road had looked like a river to her. But if he said there was a ford then she believed him; she doubted many people disbelieved what this man said. If they did they were fools.
‘It's flooded.’ Rand straightened, the silver eyes cold at her dismayed expression.
‘You mean it's completely impassable?’ she groaned, needing to have her worst fear confirmed rather than just imagined.
‘Unless your car floats, yes.’ He gave a mocking inclination of his head.
Is there another hotel near here?’ Merlyn could feel her panic rising at the thought of being stranded here and left dependent on this man. When she had to tell him who she was she would be lucky if he didn't throw her out into the rain again to take her chances!
‘The ford is on the private road to this house,’ Rand told her. ‘There is no other way out. You're stuck here until the river goes down again.'
She winced at his obvious displeasure as the realisation of her enforced stay struck him too. ‘And how long will that take?'
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘If the rain stops soon, probably tomorrow.'
Merlyn turned to look out of one of the long windows at the steadily pouring rain; it didn't look like it was ever going to stop!
‘Oh, it will,’ Rand assured her in an amused voice as she unwittingly spoke her dismay aloud. ‘Some time,’ he added mockingly, the expression in his eyes one of challenge.
She inwardly groaned her despair. Her feelings for this man had been bewildering enough before she knew who he was. Now that she knew he was the still-grieving widower of Suzie Forrester, they were absolutely ridiculous. And she only had to look at him to feel her temperature rise and her senses quiver into life in a way she had never known before.
‘You can use the bedroom you used earlier, opposite mine,’ he added softly, as if guessing her response to him was the reason for her dismay.
And why shouldn't he have realised how he affected her, her behaviour earlier had been rather obvious! ‘That's very kind of you—–'
‘Kindness doesn't have a damned thing to do with it,’ he rasped. ‘I don't have a choice.'
Neither did she, by the sound of it. And she couldn't blame him for resenting her intrusion either, he didn't come over as the sort of man who enjoyed having to be polite to a woman who had been stupid enough to get herself lost the way that she had.
‘I'll telephone Anne,’ she said quickly.
‘Do that,’ he nodded tersely, standing up to restlessly pace the room.
Merlyn watched him as she dialled the hotel number. He was prowling about like a caged lion, as if impatient with the confines even this large house offered. Continuous rain often had that effect on her too, and yet she sensed there was more to it than that where Rand was concerned; he and Suzie had shared this house all of their married life, so he must be used to the weather here after all these years.
She was prevented further speculation about him as she was put through the switchboard to Anne Benton. ‘It's Merlyn,’ she explained, looking questioningly at Rand as she heard his snort of disbelief as he heard her name.
‘Thank God.’ Anne's relief at hearing from her distracted her attention back from Rand. ‘I've been so worried about you; we expected you hours ago.'
‘Yes. Well, I—I got lost.’ She avoided Rand's mocking gaze at this understatement. ‘A—a neighbour of yours has kindly offered me a bed for the night,’ she added awkwardly.
‘A neighbour? But we don't have—Brandon?’ Anne realised suddenly. ‘Are you with Brandon?'
‘He says his name is Rand,’ she confirmed with a casualness she was far from feeling, relieved the other woman had guessed who the neighbour was and she didn't have to go into the details of her stupidity in front of this broodingly quiet man.
‘Oh dear,’ Anne groaned.
‘Yes,’ she agreed wholeheartedly.
‘What a mess,’ the other woman muttered.
That had to be even more of an understatement than the one Merlyn had made seconds ago; it was a catastrophe! From what Anne had told her, and what she had read herself about Brandon Carmichael, he was never going to believe she hadn't planned this whole thing, right down to the rain!
‘The ford is flooded, right?’ Anne guessed heavily.
Merlyn glanced at Rand as he crossed the room to pour himself a glass of brandy. ‘I'm afraid so,’ she answered the other woman.
‘Does Brandon—know, about you?’ The grimace could be heard in Anne's voice.
‘Not yet,’ she sighed, wishing she could be long gone from here before he did.
Anne drew in a ragged breath. ‘Do you want me to tell him?'
‘God, no!’ she protested; she had to spend the rest of the evening and the long night in the same house with this man!
‘No, probably not,’ Anne conceded ruefully. ‘You'll come up to the hotel and see us before travelling back to London?'
There was no point in either of them pretending there was any reason to go through with the visit now, and Merlyn was grateful for the other woman's understanding. ‘Yes,’ she agreed heavily. ‘I'll do that.'
‘Does Brandon want to talk to me?’ the other woman prompted with obvious reluctance.
Merlyn glanced across at him as he grimly swallowed down the contents of his glass. ‘Rand?’ She held out the receiver to him questioningly, shrugging as he shook his head. ‘He—he's busy at the moment,’ she excused his rudeness to his sister-in-law.
‘I'll bet,’ Anne said knowingly. ‘Merlyn, go easy with him today. It's—–’ The line went dead.
‘Anne? Anne!’ she questioned worriedly, shaking the receiver, as if it were its fault that the call had been terminated so abruptly.
‘The lines have gone down,’ Rand informed her without concern, confirming her worst suspicions. ‘I'm surprised it didn't happen before now in this weather,’ he told her in a calm voice.
She was completely alone, cut off here, with a man who would have reason to hate her if he realised who she was! Although her name hadn't elicited the response she had been dreading, only a mocking scepticism. Christopher had said Rand turned down every actress he proposed. Maybe, by the time they got to her, the fourth in line, they hadn't even got as far as the relating-her-name stage!
‘Merlyn?’
