Shadow Marriage Page 3

  Was the air-conditioning the sole reason she was shivering? Sarah wondered half an hour later as she prepared for bed in the small but luxurious ‘room’ Dale had given her. It was senseless unpacking until she discovered where she was to stay, so, having showered in Dale’s minute but compact bathroom, she pulled on the nightdress she had extracted from one of her cases and climbed into bed.

  It was silly to feel so apprehensive simply because she was working with Ben again. He would want to forget the past as much as she did. Hadn’t he said when he stormed out of their room on the night of the party that he never wanted to set eyes on her again? So why hadn’t he agreed to their divorce? Perhaps Dale was right and he was worried that she might make a huge financial claim on him—after all, he was now a very successful and presumably wealthy man. Her face tightened in disgust. He had indeed changed if he thought she would take a single penny from him. All she wanted was her freedom.

  She sighed, remembering how she had fretted over the difficulty in getting a divorce. Her solicitor had been patient, but clearly a little at a loss.

  ‘Is there someone else you want to marry?’ he had enquired, and when Sarah shook her head had looked both thoughtful and perplexed, pointing out that the waiting period was meant to give couples a chance to see if they could not bury their differences and make a go of their marriages. A tight fist seemed to grip her heart, squeezing it until the pain was almost more than she could endure. What was the matter? Sarah asked herself bitterly. Surely she had learned long ago the folly of loving Ben? Hadn’t his treatment of her then—seducing her and then marrying her simply to get one up on Dale—killed all she had ever felt for him? So why did she feel this nerve-clenching sense of apprehension, and yes, anticipation at the thought of seeing him?

  Too tired to find an answer to the riddle, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  The unfamiliar noises of the site woke her, and Sarah opened her eyes slowly, sitting upright when she remembered where she was. She glanced at her watch. Just gone seven, and already, if the sounds she could hear were any indication, the day’s work was well under way.

  Showering quickly, she returned to her room to pull on a checked cotton shirt and some ancient jeans, brushing her hair quickly and securing it off her face with a band. The first thing she had to do was to find Ben’s assistant, report in to him or her and find out when she would be needed for filming.

  Fortunately the weeks in between learning that she had got the part and her arrival in Spain had given her enough time to learn her lines, although she was fully prepared to find that some of them might have been changed in the interim. Would the mysterious author of the film script be in evidence? It wasn’t entirely unheard-of for writers to want to be present when their work was filmed, and since apparently the writer had also done the film script it was perfectly feasible that he would be on site. Sarah’s stomach tightened in a small thrill of anticipation and, chiding herself for being too impressionable, she quickly packed up her things and straightened the bed. It was almost as though she had a crush on the man—and without knowing the first thing about him! But that wasn’t true, she admitted thoughtfully. She did know about him. It was impossible to read the script and not be aware that he was a man of considerable compassion; of deeply felt but perhaps sometimes hidden emotions; a man to whom loyalty and self-respect meant far more than the indulgence in momentary pleasure.

  There was no sign of Dale when she emerged from her room, and not knowing whether he was still asleep or already working, Sarah found the coffee percolator and filled it almost automatically, unable to resist the temptation to open the door and enjoy the lazy warmth of the morning as she waited for it to be ready. Later on the heat might be oppressive, especially if she was working, but right now it was just perfect, the tender fingers of morning sunshine warming the bare skin of her throat and arms, making her want to bask like a lazy cat. She closed her eyes languorously, opening them again quickly as a shadow blotted out the warmth of the sun, some sixth sense alerting her, awareness prickling dangerously over her skin as her muscles tightened and she saw that the object that had come between herself and the sun was none other than her husband, Benedict de l’Isle, director and producer and the Most Important Man under God on the site.

  He saw her at the same moment as she saw him, halting almost mid-stride, a look, almost of shock, rippling across features that looked as though they had been hewn from stone. If Dale was the archetype of fair-headed good looks, his face open and sunny, then Ben was his direct opposite, Lucifer fallen to earth with his darkly bitter features, his hair as black as night, and his profile that of a man to whom the weaknesses of others were unknown. Eyes the colour of jade assessed her ruthlessly, stripping away the veneer of sophistication she had gathered over the years, and with it the barrier of her clothes, so that Sarah felt as though she stood before him as she had done on the set for Shakespeare, naked, and vulnerable. And then she remembered that Dale had told her Ben didn’t know she was among the cast. That gave her enough courage to lift her head and match him stare for stare. Her heart hammered violently against the confines of her flesh. She had forgotten how tall he was. She was five eight and even with the advantage of the steps she still had to look up to him. The surprise, if indeed there had been any, was gone, and had been replaced by the same icy contempt she remembered from another confrontation. It was really amazing how green eyes could be so cold, she thought, shivering a little as she realised the interested stares they were attracting from the small crowd that seemed to have gathered almost instinctively, drawn by the scent of blood no doubt, she thought bitterly. Well, if Ben thought he was going to take this part away from her! Her eyes smouldered darkly. She needed it far too much to give it up tamely, and she had her contract…

  With a little start she realised that already she was on the defensive, feeling too vulnerable, too aware of the power of the man watching her.

  She shivered again as Ben’s mouth curled tauntingly, stepping backwards and instantly grateful for the warm support of Dale’s arm, as it curved round her. She hadn’t realised he was there, Paul at his side, and the brief glance she gave him showed that she was tremulously glad of his presence.

  ‘Morning, Ben,’ he drawled affably. ‘Come to say hello to your ex-wife?’

  Sarah saw Paul’s eyes widen, but barely had time to register her protest of Dale’s unwise comment, her swiftly indrawn breath checked as Ben’s face darkened, his eyes and mouth hard with contempt. What on earth had possessed Dale to challenge him like that? Paul too looked to be concerned and slightly shocked. Obviously he had meant well, but Sarah shivered, wishing he had kept quiet.

  ‘My ex-wife?’ Ben murmured softly, cruelty glinting in the smile he gave Sarah as he reached them, grasping her hand, and uncurling fingers almost numb with shock as he jerked her forward so that she practically fell into his arms.

  ‘You mean to say you haven’t told him, darling?’

  The words were murmured against her ear, shivering across her skin, Ben’s hold tightening round her until she could barely breathe. Almost as though she were standing outside herself Sarah witnessed the small tableau—Dale, standing in the doorway of the trailer, wary, and questioning, his eyes searching her face as he tested it for reaction. Ben and herself locked in an embrace which made her frighteningly aware of the muscled power of his body, her back and legs warmed by the male flesh of his body, the contrast of his darkly tanned forearm resting alongside the pale fragility of hers, his fingers curling possessively round her wrist, holding it just before the curve of her breasts, so that he couldn’t help but be aware of the hurried thud of her heart.

  ‘Told me what?’ Dale demanded at length with just enough edge under the light voice he used for Sarah to know that he was taken off guard.

  ‘Why, simply that she isn’t and never has been my “ex”,’ Ben drawled lightly, the concerted but very audible gasp that went up from their ‘audience’ reminding
Sarah that he always had been a first-rate actor, able to draw every last ounce of emotion out of any scene.

  ‘You could have told Dale our little secret, darling,’ Ben murmured behind her. She felt him bend his head, and then the warm brush of his mouth against her skin, just below her ear, making her shiver in shocked response. ‘I know I said I didn’t want it made public just yet, but since I took this job especially to be near you, I think we’ve rather given ourselves away, don’t you?’

  Sarah was too numb to speak. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Dale. How could she deny Ben’s assertion that she was still his wife, when in effect it was perfectly true? But as for the rest of his statement! She tugged away from him, her eyes already darkening with anger, and thought she had caught him off guard as she found herself free, but her freedom only extended to the length of time it took Ben to turn her in his arms, so that her breasts were crushed against the thin silk of his shirt, her nostrils full of the male scent of him, the grainy texture of his skin, and the hard pressure of his body as he held her against him.

  ‘For those of you who don’t know,’ he drawled, raising his voice so that it reached the crowd of onlookers, now much larger than it had originally been and every one of them unashamedly listening, ‘Sarah and I have been separated for the past few years, but now we’re back together again, and my only regret is that on this occasion I won’t be playing her lover—at least not in public!’

  There was a wave of goodnatured laughter, only Dale and Sarah not joining in. She couldn’t believe this, Sarah thought dazedly. Why had he done it? And then as she heard him saying coolly, ‘I didn’t realise you were arriving last night, darling. You should have let me know. Never mind, you’re here now. I’ll get someone to move your things to my trailer. Thanks for looking after her, Dale. It’s almost like old times,’ she knew. He wasn’t going to have it said a second time that his wife had a lover who wasn’t her husband. But why not simply divorce her? He didn’t want her. He had made that more than plain enough; had told her to go to Dale. She could still remember the cruelty of his words when he had done so. All she had ever been to him had been the winning of a bet!

  The crowd was slowly beginning to drift away. Break-ups and reconciliations were common enough in their industry not to cause too much comment, although it would have seriously undermined Ben’s authority had it been thought that his estranged wife was having an affair with another member of the cast.

  ‘Let me go!’ Sarah demanded tersely, not even bothering to conceal the shaken anger she was feeling. Dale was still watching them and came down the steps, frowning as he approached them.

  ‘Look, Sarah, if…’

  ‘Leave it, Dale,’ Ben cut in in clipped accents. ‘Like I said, I’ll have someone move Sarah’s things to my trailer. You’re supposed to be filming in half an hour, aren’t you?’ he added, flicking a glance at his watch. ‘They’ll be waiting for you in Make-up.’

  Faced with what was tantamount to an order, Dale had little alternative but to go, and Sarah watched him leave, anger and anguish mingled in her eyes as Ben retained his hold on her until Dale was swallowed up in the dust and heat of the morning.

  ‘Well now,’ he drawled when Dale had gone, ‘are you going to tell me what you were doing spending the night in his trailer, or can I guess?’

  ‘You can,’ Sarah spat back, ‘but if you judge Dale and me by your own standards, then you wouldn’t come within a mile of the truth! And speaking of motives, Ben, why did you announce that we were reconciled?’

  ‘We’ve got to work together, Sarah. I want to make a success of this film, and I’m not having the cast and crew more interested in gossiping about us than in doing a first-rate job.’

  ‘But no one need even have known that we were married,’ Sarah bit out. ‘I…’

  ‘I quite agree,’ Ben cut in tersely, ‘and who have we to thank for the fact that they do know?’

  For a moment Sarah looked at him blankly, then she remembered Dale announcing her as Ben’s ‘ex-wife’. ‘Dale didn’t mean anything,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘You know what he’s like.’

  ‘Probably better than you,’ came the crisply derisive response, ‘but the damage is done now, Sarah. I’ve got enough problems on my hands already without you and Dale stirring up more. I’d feel much happier if you weren’t here to add to them, but failing that, it will make life that little bit easier for me to have you under my eye, where I can see you. And, Sarah…’ She turned to look at him, dry-mouthed with apprehension at the tone of his voice. ‘Any attempt on your part to resume your affair with Dale, and I’ll get myself another Joanna, contract or no contract, understand?’

  Just for a second she toyed with the idea of telling him what he could do with his part, but she needed it too much; needed and wanted it. Ever since she had read the script she had known how much she wanted to be in the film. Not just because it was destined to be an out-and-out success, but because something about the way it was written, the development of the characters, struck a sympathetic chord deep inside her.

  ‘I don’t want to share a trailer with you,’ she heard herself saying childishly, knowing that they both knew that she had given in. ‘I…’

  ‘I’m not exactly thrilled about it myself,’ Ben agreed curtly, ‘but needs must, and anyway, we’ve nowhere else to put you.’

  ‘Because Gina insists on having a trailer to herself. Why don’t you simply share with her, and let me have your trailer?’ Sarah suggested sweetly. ‘That way you’ll be keeping both your main actresses happy.’

  ‘Dale has been busy, hasn’t he?’ was Ben’s only comment, but Sarah hadn’t missed the way his eyes narrowed, nor the dark flush running along the high cheekbones. Somehow her comment had got to him, which in itself was worthy of further investigation. Was he not as immune to Gina as he pretended? ‘Well, just try to remember that this time you’re playing brother and sister, and not lovers. And if you want to blame someone because you’re having to share with me, then blame Dale—after all, he’s the one who announced that we were married.’ He glanced at his watch again. ‘I’m due on set in ten minutes. You’ll find my trailer on the far side of the camp. It’s on its own—a brown and cream monstrosity, you can’t miss it. By the way,’ he added, halting her and pinning her where she stood with the icy intentness of his scrutiny, ‘how come you changed the time of your flight? I had fully intended to come and collect you myself.’

  ‘You had? But…’

  Two facts hit her simultaneously. One was that Dale had been wrong and that Ben had known she was to play Joanna. The other was that someone had obviously misled him over her flight, because she had certainly not altered it.

  ‘But?’ he encouraged, still watching her. ‘But you and Dale decided it would create more of an impact if you were seen with him? Nice try, Sarah, but this time you’ve been out-manoeuvred.’

  ‘Because you lied about us being reconciled,’ Sarah said bitterly, ignoring the accusation he had tossed at her. ‘Reconciled!’ She laughed acidly. ‘You never even wanted to marry me in the first place—you…’

  ‘But I did,’ Ben cut in grimly, ‘and having done so, I’m having to pay for my mistake—just like you—and be warned, Sarah, this time I’m not going to allow you and Dale to make a laughingstock out of me!’

  He was gone before she could retort, striding through the heat and dust-hazed morning, the rigid line of his disappearing back reminding Sarah of the hard pressure of his body against hers. In Dale she had seen few changes if any to mark the intervening years; in Ben she saw many. As Southampton he had won acclaim for his acting ability, and had been more of a heart-throb than Dale, his darkly macho good looks causing more of an impact on the audience. He had been just thirty when they met. Now he was thirty-three, going on thirty-four, and like something cast in iron, he had hardened rather than mellowed. Oh, he was still good-looking—Sarah closed her eyes, quivering in recognition of the sexual appeal that nothing could destroy,
and she hadn’t been immune to it. Held prisoner in his arms, it had been fatally easy to remember how it had been between them, and even if there had not been the love she believed at the time, there had still been the passion and desire. If she closed her eyes she could still feel the echoes of it now, tongues of flame licking through her veins, the weak wanting in the pit of her stomach; the need to touch and taste the male flesh against her own. She opened her eyes, half dizzy from the emotions she fought to control, telling herself that it was the sunshine that made her feel so weak and disorientated. She glanced around her and sighed, wishing with all her heart that Guy Holland was still directing the film. Just for a moment she contemplated breaking her contract, and then her fighting instinct came to the fore. Ben probably expected her to run from him like a frightened rabbit—just as Mary Fitton had run from Southampton—well, she would show him! Before she could change her mind she swung round on her heel and headed in the direction Ben had pointed out to her.

  Before she got to Ben’s trailer, Sarah found the trailers which were being used as the administrative offices for the unit. One of the four girls working there, a plump, cheerful brunette, produced a work schedule, adding by way of warning, ‘Of course it changes from day to day—you know what it’s like—but we’ll be pinning a fresh one up here every morning, and of course if you’re in any doubt, you’re lucky, you can always check with the boss at night!’ Her ready smile robbed the words of any offence, and when Sarah smiled back the girl gave a relieved grin and extended a small capable hand. ‘I haven’t introduced myself, by the way. I’m Lois and the others are Anne, Helen and Sue, respectively. Thank goodness you’re human. After all the tantrums we’ve had from Madame Gina we were getting a bit worried about you, especially after this morning’s surprise. We had no idea the boss was married, much less to one of our leading ladies.’