Bound By Contract. Carole Mortimer
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Her green eyes flashed a warning as she met his derisive gaze. ‘I think I’m perfectly capable of knowing for myself when I’ve had enough wine to drink—thank you,’ she said hardly.
His mouth twisted. ‘I wasn’t referring to the wine,’ he drawled. ‘Although I agree you’ve probably had enough of that too—’
‘You—’
‘I was actually referring to the fact you look as if you’re about to keel over into your coffee,’ he continued dryly.
The fact that he was right irritated her anew. She was so tired now, she felt as if she was swaying on her seat, and, as Gideon had guessed, the feeling had nothing to do with the wine she had consumed! She’d been without sleep for almost forty-eight hours now, and the last six had, since meeting Gideon Byrne, been anything but restful!
‘I think I’m also capable of deciding when it’s time for me to go to bed,’ she told him stubbornly.
‘Are you?’ His expression was deliberately bland.
Once again Madison felt that overwhelming urge to hit him! But at the same time a wave of such exhaustion swept over her, she didn’t feel as if she had the strength to lift her hand…
‘Time to go,’ Gideon announced firmly, standing up to pull back her chair for her.
She looked up at him, unmoving, for several seconds and saw several other people looking in their direction. If she continued to just sit there, with Gideon pointedly waiting for her to stand up, all the other people at the table would eventually be staring at them!
Rather than have that happen, Madison stood up. At least, she attempted to. As she got to her feet her legs buckled beneath her, only Gideon’s arm about her waist stopping her from actually falling to the carpeted floor.
He kept that arm about her waist as he guided her out of the dining-room. Which was just as well, because she was falling asleep on her feet now.
‘You’re very kind—’
‘I told you, Madison,’ Gideon cut in huskily, ‘kindness isn’t in my nature. I got you out of there before you made an idiot of yourself for one reason, and one reason only,’ he added gratingly. ‘When I introduce you to the world as the star of my next film, I don’t want anyone remembering I had to carry you out of a room because you were drunk!’
But she wasn’t drunk!
And what did he mean, the star of his next film? He didn’t mean her! Did he…
Madison didn’t get a chance to ask him that question; exhaustion and the relaxing glasses of wine were finally taking their toll, and she fell asleep on Gideon’s shoulder…
He’d got her out of the room just in time, Gideon acknowledged grimly as he swung her up into his arms and began to ascend the winding staircase. Another couple of minutes, and—
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Gideon glanced down to where Edgar stood in the large entrance hall, the older man scowling up at him darkly. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ he snapped impatiently.
‘That’s what I would like to know!’ Edgar followed him up the staircase, looking down at the sleeping Madison cradled in Gideon’s arms. ‘What have you done to her?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Edgar,’ he told the other man harshly. ‘At a guess, I would say she’s exhausted. And she weighs a lot more than she looks,’ he muttered grimly, ‘so tell me which bedroom is hers before I drop her!’
Gideon wasn’t about to do any such thing; Madison was a mere featherweight, despite what he had said, but Edgar’s accusing attitude was annoying him intensely. He was trying to help Madison avoid embarrassing herself, and Edgar was treating him as if he were about to ravish the unconscious woman!
‘This way,’ Edgar bit out coldly, leading the way down a hallway to a room right at the end.
‘I should have known it would be the furthest away!’ he rasped as Edgar pushed the door open for Gideon to precede him. Gideon laid Madison down gently on top of the bed before straightening to look at the older man. ‘Shall I undress her, or will you?’ he challenged provocatively.
An angry flush darkened Edgar’s cheeks. ‘I don’t think Madison would appreciate either of us doing that!’ He moved to cover her with the bedcovers.
Gideon found himself irritated by the tenderness with which Edgar removed Madison’s shoes, and tucked the cover under her chin and over her shoulders.
He had been impressed by the looks of the woman he had met down in the pool earlier, and even more impressed this evening when Madison continued to verbally fence with him. She’d even made him laugh a couple of times!
The way that Madison looked, the fragility of her, would be a perfect foil for the character of Rosemary. And the more he saw of Madison McGuire, the more convinced he became that she could play the part.
The main problem he had with that was Edgar. The other man had been so damned sure of himself last night when he’d spoken of Madison, so smug, that Gideon baulked at the idea of using someone Edgar had put forward.
But was that enough of a reason to reject, out of hand, the only real possibility he had seen for Rosemary in the last six months?
The answer to that had to be no!
He turned to look at Madison with narrowed eyes. She looked even younger when she was asleep, a baby innocence to her delicate features, her golden hair spread out on the pillow beneath her, the figure-hugging red dress that outlined her curves so lovingly, and so belied that youthful innocence, hidden from view under the bedspread.
And awake there was a fire in those amazing green eyes, a grit about her that refused to be cowed. By anybody. And Gideon had to admit he had given her a hard time this evening!
But she’d withstood it well, had given back as good as she got. Those were the inner qualities that needed to be brought to the character of Rosemary…
But he did not want Edgar, as the doting godfather, breathing down his neck when he worked!
‘She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?’
He turned sharply to the older man. ‘Very,’ he rasped.
‘And?’ Edgar arched questioning brows.
Gideon gave a sigh. ‘And nothing, Edgar. I see dozens of beautiful women every day; it doesn’t mean they can act worth a damn!’
Edgar stiffened. ‘Madison can act.’
He shrugged. ‘So you keep telling me.’
‘So you would know, if you would only—’
‘I’m my own man, Edgar.’ He cut in harshly on the other man’s forcefulness. ‘If you don’t like it, then maybe you got yourself the wrong director!’ He looked indignantly at the older man.
He could see anger warring with prudence inside Edgar as he tried to stop himself saying something he was going to regret. The fact that the older man did that at all was indicative of how much this meant to him.
Gideon glanced once again at the sleeping Madison. ‘Who is she, Edgar?’ He frowned heavily.
Was it his imagination, or did the older man look evasive, just for a brief moment? If he did, it was so fleeting it was barely there at all. But, even so, Gideon felt uneasy. There was something about his god-daughter Edgar wasn’t telling him…
‘You said she’s the daughter of an old friend of yours…?’ he prompted slowly.
‘That’s right,’ Edgar answered briskly. ‘Malcolm McGuire.’
Which meant precisely nothing to Gideon. Nevertheless, he still felt there was something Edgar was holding back…
‘Should