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You could have heard a pin drop.
‘Neither, it seems, have you.’
Lindy wanted to applaud as her sister turned and, stately as a queen, retreated inside the cottage. Unhappy at not having the last word, Dallas flung a lengthy monologue of unladylike insults at the unresponsive wooden panels until Sam leant over and said something.
Whatever it was it had the desired effect. Dallas turned and paused gracefully for the clicking shutters before retreating, flanked by two large bodyguards. Lindy found herself suddenly eye to eye with the woman. A wave of overpowering perfume preceded her and Lindy let her distaste show on her face. The singer’s brown eyes narrowed as she saw it.
‘And who might you be?’
‘How dare you speak to my sister like that?’ Lindy’s voice might not be trained to carry, but her posture was enough to tell the eager audience the show wasn’t over yet.
‘Rosalind, leave it.’ Sam shouldered his way to her side.
She was too angry to hear the warning in his voice. She shrugged at the restraining hand on her shoulder. ‘My sister has more integrity in her little finger than the whole pack of you put together!’
The brown eyes swept with amusement over the slim figure clad in chinos and a cotton sweater. Lindy’s cheeks, coloured to the lightest of honey shades by several weeks in the sun, were flushed with temper. The soft blue of her eyes had been replaced by a stormy grey.
‘Is this one yours, Sam?’ One pencilled brow rose in amused condescension that made Lindy’s blood boil.
‘Cut it out, Dallas,’ Sam snapped. ‘Come on, Rosalind. The show is over, guys.’
Lindy spun around and glared furiously at him. Who did he think he was anyway? Telling her what to do!
‘Are you Lacey’s sister?’ Flashes of light blinded and disorientated her. ‘What is your relationship with Sam?’
Lindy held up her hand to shield her eyes. She no longer fought Sam’s attempts to get her back to the house. It occurred to her, too late, that she’d only made matters worse.
‘Where do you live, Rosalind?’
‘Here—I live here,’ she mumbled. The crowd of bodies pressed around them was oppressive. The whole scene was approaching nightmarish proportions.
‘You live here with the two of them, Sam, is that right? How cosy.’ A nerve was ticking away in Sam’s lean jaw as he faced down the heavy-set reporter who blocked their path with his bulk. ‘Was Rosalind included?’ The insinuating smile he cast in her direction made Lindy feel sick. ‘Was she included in the deal when Lloyd financed the film? I can’t say I blame you…’ He got no further before Sam’s right fist shot out and floored him.
Sam turned to Lindy, lifted her fireman fashion over one shoulder, and strode to the door which was opened by a wide-eyed Hope and swiftly bolted behind them.
Hope looked silently from a grim-faced Sam to her sister, still hoisted over his shoulder, her fair hair flopping in her eyes. Laughter suddenly doubled her up and she slid to the floor, her back braced against the door.
‘Oh, boy, oh, boy…’ Hope moaned as the tears poured down her cheeks. ‘Lloyd always says he doesn’t know anyone who plays the media as well as Sam Rourke. He’s so…he’s so unflappable and controlled!’ Storms of giggles broke out again. ‘You upstaged Dallas; she’ll never forgive you.’
Outside, the floored reporter picked himself up. ‘Jeez,’ he said, rubbing his jaw. A look of unholy joy spread slowly across his face. ‘Did you get that, Pete?’ he yelled, looking around for his photographer.
‘Sure I got that,’ his colleague confirmed, ‘but so did everyone else.’
‘I’ve got something they haven’t.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Bruises!’
CHAPTER FIVE
AN HOUR after the last reporter had departed, Lindy joined Sam and Hope where they sat, talking in subdued tones, at the table. Fresh from the shower, she was wearing a striped towelling robe. She tucked her wet hair behind her ears and sat down.
‘Feeling better now?’ her sister enquired sympathetically.
Lindy nodded. The other two, she reflected, seemed to have coped with the experience a lot better than she had. She’d felt grubby and shaken by the whole nightmarish encounter. She reached out to take the coffee cup Hope handed her; at least her hands were steady now.
‘Want some?’
Lindy shook her head and watched with surprise as her sister glugged some spirit from the whisky bottle into her own cup. Perhaps, she reflected, she’d underestimated her sister’s response to the incident. It made her feel a little less inadequate to discover Hope wasn’t quite as invulnerable as she made out.
