The Spellbinder: A Loveswept Classic Romance Read online

  Sacha shook her head. “It’s asking too much of you.”

  Louis said thoughtfully, “He’s right, Sacha. It might be a way to end it.”

  “And risk his life doing so,” she said fiercely. “No, I wouldn’t ask anyone to do that for me. How could I ever repay it?”

  “I’m not asking you to repay me,” Brody said impatiently. “I’m just asking you to be sensible.”

  “But I would have to repay you.” Sacha’s voice was passionate with intensity. “You don’t understand. Not paying a debt is like stealing.” She smiled shakily. “I suppose you don’t know me well enough yet to realize I can’t bear to be in debt to anyone.”

  She meant every word she was saying, Brody thought. In another moment she’d walk out that door and he’d be helpless to stop her. His hands clenched slowly into fists at his sides. Helpless, hell. There was no way he was going to let her leave him. He forced himself to relax. “You’ve forgotten one thing. It’s natural for the members of a family to help each other. No payment is expected between a man and his … sister.”

  Her eyes widened. “You believe me? You believe we’re related?”

  He nodded curtly. “I believe we’re related.” He grabbed the suitcase off the bed. “Now can we get the hell out of this dump?”

  She hesitated. “I suppose it is all right.” She suddenly smiled brilliantly. “There are no debts between brothers and sisters. Only love, right?”

  He gazed at her a long moment feeling his throat tighten. “No debts,” he echoed thickly. He turned to Louis Benoit. “You’re welcome to come along if this mysterious danger is leveled at you too.”

  Benoit shook his head. “I’m in no danger. It’s Sacha that Gino’s after.”

  “Gino?” Then, as Brody saw Sacha’s expression become troubled, he held up his hand in resignation. “I know. You can’t tell me. I believe I’m getting very tired of all this melodrama. I go through enough of these hijinks on stage to put up with it in my private life.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sacha said. “But I have no right to burden you with—”

  “That’s enough. I’ve heard it all before,” Brody growled. “You’re not coming, Benoit?”

  Louis stood up. “No, I think I’ll stay here. I’ll have the desk move me to another room and see if any visitors show up at the hotel looking for Sacha.” He smiled at Sacha, his brown eyes warm. “Who knows? Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe Gino won’t come at all.”

  “Maybe.” Sacha moistened her lips and absently rubbed her left ear. “But I doubt it. We both know how fond Gino is of making examples.” Her hand fell to her side, and she turned to Brody. “But you must tell these guards they are to protect you first. You understand? Nothing must happen to you because you’re helping me.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to either of us.” He took her elbow. “Can we leave now? This place is very depressing to my delicate sensibilities. If we must be in danger, let it be in a five-star hotel.”

  She chuckled. “By all means. I can see how you’d be upset. Louis and I are used to roughing it.”

  His gaze left her face to wander to the double bed. “You and Louis are obviously accustomed to doing a great many things together.”

  “We’ve been friends a long time.” Sacha’s answer was abstracted as she turned to Louis. “Don’t take any foolish chances and don’t let Gino see you.”

  Louis’s lips twisted. “He probably wouldn’t even remember me. I wasn’t important to him.” He added bitterly, “There were so many of us.”

  “Well, don’t risk it.” She turned to Brody and smiled. “See how I trust you? I’m placing myself entirely in your hands.”

  He nodded, his expression shuttered. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, though not in precisely this fashion.” He propelled her toward the door. “We’ll just have to see how it works out.”

  “You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch in the sitting room.” Brody motioned to the door of the bedroom. “Clear out any drawers you need in the bureau for your things.”

  She made a face, “One drawer should do it. I don’t have much.”

  “Why not? I don’t believe I’ve ever met a lady who could pack all her clothes in one suitcase.”

  Her gaze slid away from him. “I had a larger wardrobe in Paris. Not anything to rival Imelda Marcos, but adequate. I had to leave there in such a hurry that I ended up with just the clothes on my back. What I have in that suitcase are the things I’ve managed to buy since I’ve been here.”

  “Like Donald Duck?”

  She grinned. “That T-shirt was an extravagance I couldn’t resist. Wearing it makes me happy, and that’s important too.” Her smile faded. “I don’t want your bed, Brody. I’ll take the couch.”

  He shook his head. “I’d feel better if I slept in the sitting room. You’ve infected me with a strange malady that feels dangerously like gallantry. I’ve been experiencing the most unusual symptoms of wanting to guard and protect.” He shuddered theatrically. “I can’t bear to anticipate what other virtues will emerge from this situation in which you’ve involved me.”

  “Bah! You’re too set in your ways to be in any danger of total reformation.” Sacha’s blue eyes were dancing. “But a little will do you no harm.” She turned to the bedroom. “All right, I’ll let you guard me, but there’s no sense you going to extremes while you do it. That couch looks far too elegant to be comfortable. We’ll both take the bed.”

  The smile faded from Brody’s face. “We will?”

  “Why not? It’s much wider than the one Louis and I shared.” She glanced back at him as she opened the door. “And I don’t snore, I promise you. It would be stupid not to share.”

  Something flickered in Brody’s face. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be thought stupid as well as gallant.”

  “Good. Then it’s settled.”

  “Not quite.”

  She looked at him inquiringly.

  “I sleep in the raw.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem, so does Louis.” She went into the bedroom, leaving the door open. “May I have the shower first?” she called back to him.

  “Why not?” There was a thread of sarcasm in his silky tone. “Unless you’d prefer we shower together? Perhaps that’s another activity you shared with Benoit, and I certainly wouldn’t want you to get lonesome.”

  “Of course, we did not shower together,” Sacha said, surprised. “There are some things a person prefers to do in private.”

  “Very few things, evidently,” he muttered as he appeared in the doorway and leaned on the jamb, watching her.

  Sacha opened her suitcase and took out her orange rugby jersey. “Well, one does like company for most activities. At least I always have. I suppose I’m naturally gregarious.” She turned and moved toward the bathroom, feeling his gaze on her back as she opened the door. “I’ll be right out.”

  Brody was behaving most peculiarly, she thought as she quickly stripped off her clothes and dropped them on the gleaming white tiles of the floor. Well, who could blame him? He had suddenly acquired a live-in sister, a possible threat of violence to himself, as well as total disruption of his privacy. It was no wonder the tension surrounding him was nearly tangible. Poor Brody.

  And wonderful Brody. How lucky she was to belong to him. Behind that hard facade she had discovered gentleness, humor, and a surprising sweetness. She never would have dreamed that he would want to shoulder her problems like this. She shouldn’t have let him. It was wrong of her, but dear heaven, she didn’t want to leave him now that she had just found him.

  She rummaged in the elegant white basket on the vanity and found complimentary bottles of shampoo and body lotion. She opened the small bottle of shampoo and sniffed ecstatically as she stepped into the shower stall. What a heavenly floral scent, Sacha thought. She would feel marvelously luxurious using it after the generic brand to which she was accustomed. Brody was right. If you had to be in danger, you might as well be comfortable.
/>   After a long shower and shampoo she anointed her body with lotion and talc, feeling blissfully sybaritic. Then she slipped on her orange jersey and wrapped her wet hair in a towel.

  “I’m sorry I was so long,” she called as she gathered her discarded clothes together and opened the door. “I could become addicted to a bathroom like this. It’s absolutely wonderful.”

  Brody was already in bed, she noticed, as she walked into the bedroom. He was propped up against the headboard, the satin sheet draped carelessly across his lower body. The triangular thatch of hair pelting his naked chest was the same rich chestnut shade as the hair on his head but was not as smooth and gleaming. It looked thick, wiry and tough. He looked tough. The muscles of his shoulders shone sleek and powerful in the golden circle of lamplight surrounding the bed.

  Sacha stopped beside the bed. How odd. She was curiously breathless, almost shy, and there was a tingling in her palms as she gazed at the chestnut hair roughing Brody’s chest. “Don’t you want to shower?”

  He shook his head. “I always shower after the performance.” His smile was self-mocking. “Though I may feel the urge for a cold shower before morning.”

  Her brow wrinkled in a puzzled frown. “Does that happen very often?”

  “Not since I was fourteen. Come to bed, Sacha.”

  “In just a minute. I need to dry my hair a little more.” She set her clothes neatly on a maroon velvet wing chair, then sat down on her side of the bed and began to rub her hair briskly.

  “There’s a blow-dryer in the vanity cabinet.”

  “Is there? I never thought to look. It doesn’t matter. My hair is very fine and dries quickly.”

  “It matters.” Her head was enveloped in the towel, and she didn’t see the tension that tautened the muscles of his abdomen as he watched the soft orange jersey mold and cling to her small breasts when she lifted her hands to rub her hair. “It matters a hell of a lot.” His voice was hoarse. “Go get the dryer.”

  She lowered the towel, her dark hair a wild frame for her flushed, glowing face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m keeping you awake.” She jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom. She found the dryer and came back to the bedroom. “Do you know where the outlet is?”

  “There’s one in the bathroom.”

  “I’d rather do it here. It’s more companionable.” She came around to his side of the bed and looked behind the nightstand. “Here’s one.” She plugged in the hair dryer and sat down on the floor. She crossed her legs tailor fashion, facing him, and turned on the hair dryer. “Talk to me.”

  He pulled his gaze away from the silken flesh of her naked thighs and forced himself to look at her face. “You have a thing about being companionable, don’t you?”

  She nodded, holding the nozzle of the dryer to the left side of her head and lifting the curls with her fingers. “Oh, yes, I think it’s very important that we choose friends and become close to them. Otherwise it can be terribly lonely.” She looked at him soberly. “I think you’re very lonely, Brody.”

  “I wouldn’t say loneliness was my problem. I have too many people around me most of the time.”

  “But no one you let close to you. That can be even worse than being alone.” She switched the dryer to the opposite side of her head. “When I was a little girl, I was surrounded by other children, but sometimes I still felt isolated. I guess we all do. That’s when I’d close my eyes and think about what it would be like to have a real family of my own.”

  “Other children? Were you in an orphanage?”

  She hesitated. “Something like an orphanage.” She suddenly scooted close to the bed and turned around so that her face was hidden from him. “Will you dry the back of my hair for me? It’s always the hardest to reach.”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “Hand me the dryer.” He swung his feet to the floor on each side of her as he reached for the dryer.

  She closed her eyes in purely sensual pleasure as the soft warm air caressed her nape and Brody’s fingers combed through the damp tresses. His naked legs were cradling her between them. Brody really had beautiful legs, she thought dreamily. She had known they were well shaped; the tights of his costumes outlined every muscle of his calves and thighs, but bare, they looked far more virile and brawny. His feet, planted on the deep blue carpet, were strong and shapely, and the tanned thighs on each side of her were dusted with fine, sun-lightened hair.

  “Are you asleep?” Brody asked.

  “No, I was just thinking what nice feet you have.” She leaned the side of her head on his thigh, letting the warm flow of air weave through her hair. His skin felt deliciously rough against her flesh, and she rubbed her cheek back and forth with catlike pleasure, enjoying the textures of him.

  “Stop!” Brody’s voice was suddenly charged with tension, the muscle beneath her cheek clenched and rigid.

  She chuckled. “Am I tickling you?”

  “You could say that.” His voice was guttural. He turned off the dryer and put it on the bedside table. “I think that’s enough.” His legs were gone from around her as he pulled them back, scooted up, and slid under the sheet. “Hell, I know it’s enough. Turn out that light and come to bed.”

  Doubtfully she touched her hair. It still felt a little damp to her, but Brody was obviously impatient. She scrambled to her knees and reached over to turn out the lamp. In the darkness she padded around the bed and slipped beneath the satin coverlet. The springs were firm, the mattress comfortable, and the satin sheets cool and slick. Magic. Positively magic.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “That sigh almost shook the bed.”

  “Contentment. No lumps. Do you know what a luxury a mattress with no lumps can be?”

  There was a pause before Brody said slowly, “I guess I’d forgotten. The last time I even thought about comfort was in Vietnam. I was nineteen and I remember how cold and hard the ground was. And the rain.…” There was a silence then. “I thought I’d never forget that hell. I guess I didn’t really forget. I just blocked it out.”

  “We all block things out. It helps us to survive and go on. But you’re so lucky, Brody. You have everything you need to make a wonderful life.” She hesitated. “You could be happy if you let yourself.”

  “I’m perfectly content. Why shouldn’t I be?”

  “Bah, content is for beds that aren’t lumpy. Happy is different. Happy is …” She searched wildly for words. “Oh, I don’t know. Rockets going off and flags waving and a shining inside. You don’t have that, Brody, and I want it for you.”

  “Do you?” His voice was husky. “Thank you, Sacha, but you’ll find my ‘shining’ is a little tarnished with wear, and I launched most of my rockets a long time ago.”

  “You sound like an old man. It’s a good thing I got to you when I did.” Sacha chuckled. “Stick with me, and we’ll find you brand-new rockets to send soaring.”

  Lord, he felt jaded. There was nothing tarnished about the shining within Sacha. She glowed with a clear inner beauty that moved him profoundly. “I believe I may do that.”

  There was a long silence before Sacha spoke again. “Being in bed with you is different from being in bed with Louis. He’s more … comfortable.”

  “And I’m not?”

  “No.” She sounded puzzled. “You’re so tense that I think you’re making me a little tense too. I feel … odd.”

  “I suppose I’m not accustomed to sleeping with anyone.” He added silkily, “Of course, you don’t have that excuse.”

  “I guess that must be it.” She paused. “But you’re always tense, aren’t you? I used to watch you on stage, and I could almost feel it. There were times when it was worse than others, but it was always there. Why?”

  “Go to sleep.” His tone was suddenly abrupt. “I’m not in the mood to bare my soul tonight. Why should I confide in you, when you won’t tell me a damn thing about yourself?”

  “No reason,” she said. �
�I guess I just want to know everything about you.”

  “Well, you’ve found out enough for one night. Go to sleep.”

  “I know I’m a chatterbox. Does it bother you?”

  The flow of words didn’t bother him so much as her voice—soft, husky, stroking him in the darkness. He had thought once the light was out and he couldn’t see her, it would be easier. He had been wrong. The darkness enhanced the sensuality of the sensations he was experiencing. With every breath he took in the warm, floral scent clinging to her skin and hair. And that voice …

  Would he ever be able to sleep? He was aching, throbbing, the blood tingling through his veins, surging into his groin. What an idiot he was being to let her do this to him. Why didn’t he just tell her, and then reach out and bring her to him? She was warm and responsive, and he was an experienced lover. He could make her respond.

  But he didn’t want to make her respond. He wanted her to come to him and offer herself. He wanted to treat her with gentleness, show her beauty, and know he hadn’t tarnished the wonderful shining within her. And if he did tell her, what if she left him and ran headlong into the dangerous situation Benoit said might kill her? How the hell had he gotten himself into this mess?

  He heard her resigned sigh as she turned over and made herself more comfortable. A short time later her breathing altered, steadied, and he knew she was asleep.

  He didn’t move for another five minutes, waiting for her slumber to deepen. Then he slipped from the bed, shrugged into his robe, and padded to the door leading to the sitting room. A minute later he was at the desk punching in Cass’s room number on the phone. Cass picked up the phone on the second ring. “Cass, I need you to contact Randal right away.”