Wildest Dreams

She straightened in her chair as she realised she was staring at him, and that he was returning that stare with questioning eyes. ‘Sorry.’ She blushed ruefully. ‘It’s just—you aren’t quite what I was expecting either.’ That had to be the understatement of the year! ‘But then we’ve agreed the feeling is mutual,’ she added briskly as she sensed a sarcastic reply was about to leave his lips. She put down her empty teacup. ‘I have some papers in my bag for you to look at—

‘If it’s about the filming of Palfrey, then I’m not interested,’ he interrupted harshly.

Arabella looked up from picking up her bag. ‘You can’t possibly know that until you’ve seen what the film company has to offer,’ she pointed out gently, not wanting to antagonise him further but at the same time aware of just how lucrative the film contract could be for him. For Atherton Publishing, too, she acknowledged ruefully, sure that he would lose no time in pointing that out.

It was obvious, from this house and the presence of the elderly couple who worked for him, that he was comfortably off. And she knew better than most how much money he earned from the Palfrey books. But the film company was talking major money for this author. It would be slightly reckless on his part, she felt, to say no to the idea without even looking at the contract...

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Palfrey would become a Hollywood caricature—with all the hype that goes along with it!’ he dismissed easily.

Arabella took out the offending contract before snapping shut her bag. ‘I’m sure the film company will be completely open to negotiation about your own amount of involvement in things.’ After his obvious reluctance to talk to them at all, they seemed agreeable to any terms he cared to make! ‘With a contract to match,’ she added encouragingly.

‘A contract they would instantly break, if and when it suited them to do so,’ he returned scornfully.

‘Of course they wouldn’t!’ she gasped indignantly.

‘Just how many Hollywood contracts have you, or your publishing company, been involved in, Miss Atherton?’ he said tauntingly.

Atherton Publishing was not that sort of publishing company; had made its name and money mainly from educational books. It had been Arabella who had introduced successful contemporary fiction to the list, and Merlin was definitely her most successful author to date. A fact which, looking at the intelligence in those blue eyes, she had a feeling Robert Merlin was completely conversant with!

‘How many have you?’ she returned somewhat tartly, knowing she was getting nowhere with this man.

The mockery left his face as his expression hardened once again, a tense stillness settling over his muscular frame. ‘I don’t have—’

‘Daddy, I’m in the swimming team!’ The study door had burst open, and the excited statement had come from the young lady who stood framed in the open doorway.

Despite her considerable height, she was young, Arabella realised, probably about thirteen or fourteen, poised on the brink of womanhood. Raven-black hair fell silkily past her shoulders, her glowingly lovely face had none of that puppy-fat that could be so annoying at her age, and her body was tall and slender, with the promise of curves yet to come. In another couple of years she was going to be a stunningly beautiful woman.

And she had called Merlin ‘Daddy’...

Arabella looked at him with new eyes. There was a Mrs Merlin somewhere, then...?

It was ridiculous of her to feel surprised, even faintly disappointed. Robert Merlin must be the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life; of course there would be a woman in his life, possibly even a wife. The latter was not just a possibility; the existence of his daughter was proof of that.

‘Daddy, did you hear what I said?’

‘Of course I heard you, Emma,’ he acknowledged indulgently. ‘But can’t you see we have a guest?’ He gave a pointed look in Arabella’s direction.

Eyes the same deep blue as her father’s suddenly became shy as the young girl looked at Arabella. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured ruefully. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I couldn’t wait to tell Daddy my good news,’ she added determinedly.

Arabella smiled her sympathy, remembering occasions when she had rushed home to tell her own father equally exciting news from school. Unfortunately, it had only been exciting to her, her father listening with a complete lack of interest. Although Robert Merlin didn’t look uninterested; it was just that she happened to be taking up his time at the moment.

She smiled at the young girl. ‘I’m sure your news takes precedence over anything I have to talk to your father about,’ she assured her lightly.

‘What are you and Daddy talking about?’ Emma asked guilelessly, moving to perch her bottom on the side of her father’s desk.

‘Emma!’ her father reproved abruptly.

Arabella couldn’t help laughing softly at the young girl’s unrepentant expression. ‘I’m from your father’s publishing company, and—’

‘A. Atherton?’ The deep blue eyes glowed interestedly.

Robert Merlin sat up straighter in his chair behind his desk. ‘And exactly what do you know about A. Atherton?’ he said slowly.

Emma grinned at Arabella, completely unabashed by her father’s grim expression. ‘Are you A. Atherton?’ she persisted. ‘I always had a feeling you might be a woman.’

‘And just why the hell did you feel that?’ her father demanded impatiently.

She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘Just the tone of the letters.’

‘And what sort of tone might that have been?’ Robert Merlin frowned at his daughter in complete bafflement.

The young girl grinned unconcernedly. ‘Unfailingly polite and reasoning—even when you were at your rudest!’ She gave her father a mischievously teasing look. ‘I always thought another man would have given you back as good as you gave.’

Her father looked outraged. ‘I was never rudel’

Emma Merlin gave Arabella a conspiratorial grit mace. ‘Oh, I think you’ll find that you were, Daddy. Although I’m sure Miss Atherton forgave you,’ she added soothingly as he still looked furious at the accusation.

Arabella was impressed with the maturity of this young girl. And her perception! Her own father and Stephen had often been incensed by this man’s fanatical wish for privacy—as witnessed by the blundering way Stephen had tried to force his way in here two days ago! Arabella had always respected that wish for privacy, often diverting the attention of the media away from this popular author.

It was a view her father and Stephen didn’t share. In their opinion, if Merlin wanted the glory—and the money!—his writing brought, then he also had to accept some of the negative aspects, and that included interest in his private life. To her father it wasn’t a negative aspect anyway...

Yes, Emma was right; if Merlin’s editor had been either her father or Stephen, then he would have been handled very differently.

‘Of course,’ Arabella confirmed smoothly.

Robert Merlin looked far from pleased at the slightly patronising air the two females seemed to have adopted towards him, his blue eyes flinty and cold. ‘I was not—’

‘Your father is such a wonderful writing talent,’ Arabella continued conversationally to Emma. ‘He could be forgiven most things.’

‘Except killing off Palfrey,’ Emma returned disgustedly. ‘That has to be the silliest thing—’

‘Emma!’ her father exploded. ‘Will you kindly shut up?’ He glared at her fiercely.

Arabella looked from father to daughter, Emma appearing stubbornly determined in the face of her father’s anger. But it was to Robert Merlin that Arabella turned her full attention. She couldn’t have heard Emma properly.

He couldn’t possibly be thinking of killing off Palfrey!

CHAPTER THREE

‘WELL, Miss Atherton?’ Robert Merlin looked at her challengingly across the width of his desk. ‘Do you have something to say on the subject, too?’

Something to say? If it was true, she certainly did have something to say!

‘You can’t be serious!’ was all she could manage at the moment. He couldn’t—could he...?

His blue eyes remained flinty as his gaze raked across the shock that was so evident on her face. ‘I thought I was the “wonderful writing talent”, Miss Atherton?’ he finally drawled.

‘Y-you are.’ She spluttered the confirmation of her earlier statement. ‘But—’

‘Is there a “but”, Miss Atherton?’ he cut in with quiet intensity.

The way he kept so pointedly calling her ‘Miss Atherton’ was beginning to grate on her already frayed nerves. Of course there was a ‘but’; the Palfrey series of books were the most popular to appear on the market for some time—and Robert Merlin appeared to be about to kill off his hero!

‘Emma.’ The author turned to his daughter with raised brows as she watched the exchange with obvious enjoyment. ‘Don’t you have some homework you should be getting on with?’

‘I—’

‘Or something?’ he added determinedly, making it obvious he felt she had said enough for one day.

‘Not really,’ she replied, unabashed, obviously completely secure in her relationship with her father.

‘Then I suggest you go and find something,’ he told her bluntly, obviously just as secure in his relationship with her!

Emma stood up with a fluidity that would become graceful elegance as she got older. ‘OK,’ she accepted good-naturedly. ‘I’ll see you at dinner,’ she told Arabella lightly, frowning as she saw the regretful look on her face. ‘Daddy!’ She looked at him incredulously. ‘You have invited Miss Atherton to dinner?’ She sounded shocked at the possibility that he might not have done so.

And Robert Merlin looked far from pleased at that censorious look. ‘I—’

‘You can’t possibly expect Miss Atherton to drive all the way back to London without even feeding her,’ the young girl admonished him. ‘After all, she came all this way just to see you.’

Arabella could see that not only did Robert Merlin not expect to have to feed her, but that he had no intention of doing so!

Again she had to admit that his response at meeting his editor wasn’t the usual one; most of her authors were only too pleased to have personal interest shown in them. But then, Robert Merlin wasn’t like any other author she dealt with!

He gave an impatient sigh. ‘I hadn’t been talking to Miss Atherton long enough—before your interruption! —to have the chance to make a dinner invitation,’ he snapped pointedly.

Emma again looked completely undaunted by her father’s abrupt behaviour. ‘Well, make one now, and then tell Stella we have one extra for dinner.’ She gave him a cheeky grin.

Two sets of deep blue eyes warred for several long seconds before Robert Merlin broke the battle of wills with another irritated sigh, and turned impatiently towards Arabella. ‘You’ll stay to dinner?’ he said harshly.

It was far from the most gracious invitation she had ever received, and if she had any sense she would turn it down. But on a professional level she knew she couldn’t do that, knew she had to at least try to persuade Robert Merlin that he was committing professional suicide by killing off his main character, Palfrey. She doubted very much that he could create another series that the public would take so much to their hearts. Or she to her own!

‘Thank you,’ she accepted, just as stiltedly.

He turned to his daughter. ‘Satisfied?’ he rasped irritably.

‘Of course.’ Emma grinned, moving to kiss him lightly on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you both later, then,’ she added with satisfaction.

Arabella was still too stunned by the news that Merlin was considering killing off Palfrey to respond to Emma’s conspiratorial wink as she left the study.

‘I apologise for my daughter,’ Robert Merlin murmured distantly. ‘She can be over-familiar at times.’

‘Unlike her father,’ Arabella replied without thinking, colour darkening her cheeks as Robert Merlin raised dark blond brows. ‘I’m only stating the obvious, Mr Merlin,’ she added awkwardly, although she had a feeling it was too late to worry about offending this man; he was so prickly, it was impossible not to offend him.

‘Unlike her father,’ he conceded dryly, looking at her with renewed interest, as if—unlike everyone else in this household!—he had just realised she was a woman.

Arabella felt her cheeks grow hot under that intense scrutiny, suddenly aware again of her own appearance—of how businesslike her clothes were, of her hair secured at the nape of her neck, and the glasses perched on the end of her nose. She wished she were blonde and stunningly attractive, and had the sort of body men looked at. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t have, and perhaps that was why she was still unmarried at twenty-seven...!

‘I’m sorry.’ She broke his gaze awkwardly. ‘That was extremely rude of me.’

‘Yes, it was,’ he acknowledged slowly. ‘But it was also honest.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m always honest, Mr Merlin—’

‘Robert,’ he put in mockingly. “The formality is ridiculous in the circumstances.’

She couldn’t have agreed more. But she had had the impression that formality was what he preferred. ‘And, as you know, I’m Arabella,’ she invited stiltedly.

He relaxed back in his chair. ‘As Stella remarked earlier, it’s a fitting name for one of Palfrey’s ladies.’

In view of the fact that in her mind he had become Palfrey, was the living image of him, that was a very unnerving thing for him to say. ‘If what Emma was saying earlier is correct, then there aren’t going to be any more Palfrey ladies.’ She turned the subject away from the disturbing thought of herself as Robert Merlin’s ‘lady’; the man, by the mere evidence of Emma’s existence, was married, for goodness’ sake.

He visibly bristled. ‘As well as being over-familiar, my daughter is also indiscreet!’

. ‘But also truthful?’ Arabella prompted guardedly; after all, he hadn’t actually confirmed yet that he intended killing off Palfrey.

‘Yes,’ he rasped.

The baldness of the statement was enough to tell her he really meant it; he was going to kill Palfrey! She couldn’t believe it; she felt as if she had just been told that someone she loved was about to die.

‘They must be traits she inherited from her mother,’ Arabella murmured distractedly.

‘Let’s leave Emma’s mother out of this!’ Robert Merlin was no longer relaxed in his chair; his whole body was rigid with tension as he sat forward, his mouth set in a grim line.

That she had touched on a sensitive subject was obvious. Perhaps there was no Mrs Merlin after all; divorce, unfortunately, was all too common nowadays, and Robert Merlin wouldn’t be the first man to have claimed custody of the children from a marriage. But that Emma’s mother had been beautiful could be in no doubt either. Emma’s colouring and looks were nothing like her father’s; only her height, perhaps, could be attributed to him, and of course the blue eyes.

But if Merlin found the subject of his wife a painful one Arabella had no interest in pursuing it either!

‘Certainly,’ she dismissed gladly. ‘I would much rather discuss Palfrey anyway.’

His mouth twisted impatiently. ‘I’m sure you would, Arabella, but, as I’m sure you must realise only too well, I don’t discuss my work with anyone.’

Being his editor for the last five years had certainly not involved too much work on her part; Robert Merlin had just periodically submitted manuscripts to her, never asking her for advice or guidance on the storylines as some authors did, and rarely did any actual editing need doing either: the manuscripts were always perfectly presented and written.

‘Except Emma, apparently,’ she pointed out lightly, still deep in thought as to how she could actually get this man to listen to reason over such drastic action where his hero was concerned. Arabella, for one, would be very upset if Palfrey were to die, and that wasn’t just from a professional point of view.

‘Not even with Emma.’ He shook his head. ‘She happens to have taken a computer course at school during the last year,’ he explained at Arabella’s puzzled frown, ‘and now insists on putting all my work on disk. I write in longhand, Arabella,’ he elaborated dryly. ‘I had someone come in to type up my manuscripts for me before Emma decided she could do it on her computer.’

That explained the lack of a wordprocessor or typewriter in this room. She had had no idea that Merlin wrote his manuscripts out by hand, still really knew nothing about him. Except that he was going to kill off Palfrey!

She frowned. ‘What are your reasons for killing off Palfrey?’

He shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s time.’

Time for what? How could she, and millions of other readers, not have the publishing of the Palfrey books to look forward to? ‘I don’t agree.’ She shook her head decisively. ‘In what way is it time?’

‘He’s outlived himself.’ Robert Merlin’s tone was implacable. ‘It’s time to move on to something else.’

Incredible. Palfrey wasn’t just a character in a book for her, he was real, and she was sure that millions of other people felt the same way.

But she was, after all, Merlin’s editor. ‘Do you have another series of books in mind?’ She kept her tone businesslike.

‘Possibly,’ he returned noncommittally.

Arabella bit back her increasing frustration at his lack of cooperation. ‘It’s going to be very difficult to follow a series as popular as Palfrey’s—’

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