The Spiral Path (33 page)

"So do I."

They rounded a corner and began
paralleling the north face of Morchard House. "Apart from you and me being
as nervous as ants on a griddle, production is going so smoothly it makes me
nervous," she said. "Morchard House, for example--who would have
believed we could find a manor house with two facades so different that we
could use one building for both of the major estates? It's a real money and
time saver."

The older section of the house was
Jacobean in style, while a newer wing was Georgian. Careful camera placement
would make them seem like two separate structures. Morchard also had several
beautifully detailed interior rooms and extensive gardens with ponds, copses,
follies, and other scenic settings. The estate was theirs for the next
fortnight, since the owners had taken their immense rental fee and gone on
holiday in France until the production left.

Rainey shaded her eyes as she peered
into the distance. "The location manager said there's a labyrinth at the
far end of the garden. I'll have to look for it, if I ever have a moment to
explore."

"Do you mean a maze?"

"No, mazes are formed by banks of
shrubbery and designed to confuse. A labyrinth is a two-dimensional pattern
with only one path through. By walking the pattern from one end to the other,
you--well, the idea is to find yourself instead of becoming lost."

The idea was to find oneself? He made a
mental note to avoid the Morchard labyrinth at all costs. "How does it
work?"

"Concentrating on the path is very
relaxing, almost a form of meditation. There's an outdoor labyrinth at Grace
Cathedral, that big Episcopal church on Nob Hill in San Francisco. My friend
Kate took me there one night after we had dinner, and to humor her, I walked
the labyrinth. By the time I was halfway through, I was more relaxed than I'd
been in days. I now walk labyrinths whenever possible."

"Beware of finding a Minotaur in
the center."

She grinned. "Any monsters who got
that far would probably be in a light trance and fairly harmless."

They turned the last corner and saw the
production crew ahead. "Looks like it's time for you to chase me through
the gardens," she said. "I've been thinking of using this sequence to
open the movie and as a backdrop for the credits. What do you think?"

"Sounds plausible. This sets the
tone for the movie, both the relationship and the idealized, picture perfect
England that Randall is going to lose."

"That's what I thought." As
they neared the crew, she said pensively, "As much as possible, I've set
up the shooting schedule to keep the scenes in the order they fall in the
story. I wonder if that will make any difference in the continuity of the
emotions."

"It shouldn't. Any skilled actor
should be able to nail his scenes no matter what order they're shot in."

"But I want more than skill. I want
inspiration."

"Perspiration is more reliable than
inspiration," he said dryly. Safer, too. The last thing he wanted to feel
on this movie was inspiration, which would risk cracking the floodgates of
memory. That way madness lay.

Her
expression bright with laughter, Sarah Masterson caught up her skirts and
darted across the velvety green grass. A quick glance over her shoulder
confirmed that she was being pursued by Captain Randall, his laughter matching
hers.

Their families had always been
neighbors, but in the past he'd looked on her as a little sister. She'd grown
since the last time they'd met, and he'd noticed. Oh, yes, he'd noticed. Since
his return home on leave a fortnight earlier, he'd called on her daily. When
they waltzed at a ball the night before, she'd come near to melting in his
arms. Half the night she'd tossed and turned, wondering if she'd imagined that
light in his eyes, but she hadn't. He really was interested in her, Sarah
Masterson.

Afraid to carry the thought too far, she
raced up the hill toward the gazebo, driven by the primal instinct that made a
doe flee a stag so the male must pursue and win his mate. When she reached the
small Italianate structure, she stopped, panting as her lungs fought the
constriction of her corsets.

The captain joined her, his breathing
hardly quickened. He could have caught her easily, she knew, but he'd also
enjoyed the chase.

His tall frame seemed to fill the space
between the entrance columns. He was the handsomest man she'd ever seen, and
the light in his eyes made her excited and nervous all at once.

He took a step toward her. "Miss
Masterson. May ... may I call you Sarah?"

Absurd that he should feel shy of her.
"You may," she said, blushing at the intimacy of allowing him the
freedom of her Christian name. "You did when we were younger."

He drew another step closer.
"Sarah, this may seem sudden, and yet I feel as if I've been waiting for
this day my whole life."

He took her hands in his and looked at
her with Kenzie's green eyes. Rainey blinked, disoriented, as her mind broke
character. Hoping the camera outside the gazebo hadn't caught her lapse, she
gazed at her suitor raptly, as Sarah would have.

"You were the sweetest and
prettiest of little girls, and now you've grown into the sweetest, loveliest
young woman I've ever known." He raised her hands and kissed them.
"The only woman I can imagine spending my life with. I love you, Sarah.
Will you marry me?"

She caught her breath, stunned by the
words she'd dreamed of hearing. This magnificent man wanted her for his wife.
Didn't he know that she would give him anything he asked, even the heart from
her breast? "Yes, Captain Randall," she whispered. "I will
gladly marry you."

His expression turned from uncertainty
to exhilaration. "What, no protestations that this is so sudden? No
requests for time to consider the matter?"

"I've never been surer of anything
in my life."

"Oh, Sarah, Sarah, that honesty is
part of what I love about you." He drew her into an embrace. "You
must call me John when we are in private."

She turned her face up for his kiss, not
certain what to expect. The warm, gentle pressure of his lips was deeply
pleasing. As her eyes drifted shut, she became acutely aware of him through her
other senses. The taste of his mouth, the warmth of his body, the roughness of
his breathing, his provocative male scent. From this day on, she would know him
from every other man in the world even with her eyes closed.

The kiss lengthened, became joined by
caresses that made her blood pump urgently through her body.

Once more her concentration broke. She'd
been a fool to think she could play this scene without personal emotions
erupting. Sarah's innocence took Rainey back to the night Kenzie had asked her
to marry him, and for a brief, mad moment she'd dared hope it would work.

But it hadn't. The sorrow of that was so
intense that even her actor's discipline couldn't keep tears from her eyes.
When his hand brushed her breast, she lost Sarah entirely and stepped back with
a gasp that wasn't in the script.

Kenzie's expression showed that he was
also having trouble separating himself from the role. Improvising dialogue, he
drew her down beside him on the bench that circled the gazebo. "I'm a
beast," he said with suppressed violence as he stroked the tears from her
cheeks. "You're so pure, so innocent, and I have frightened you."

"I'm not frightened," she
assured him. "Just--overwhelmed by happiness."

Moving back to the script, he said,
"I wish we didn't have to wait to marry, but next week my regiment sets
sail for North Africa."

He would leave her so soon to go into
battle? "How long will you be gone?"

"Only a few months. We're being
sent to quell a rebellion by some fanatic natives, so it shouldn't take long.
When we've rolled up the rebels, I'll resign my commission and come home to
you." He smiled tenderly. "I've had enough of adventures. Now I'm
ready to build a home and family with you."

Despite his reassurances, she felt an
icy chill down her spine. Not sure if it was a premonition or simply concern,
she said intensely, "However long it takes, I shall wait for you,
John."

"My dear, dear girl." He
kissed her again. This time, she kissed him back with a fervor born of fear.

After a few seconds had passed, Rainey
pulled back and said, "Cut." Shaken by the emotions searing through
her, she said, "Don't print this. We're going to have to reshoot from the
time I enter the gazebo."

Greg frowned. "I dunno, Rainey, I
thought it looked pretty good. Come check it on the video monitor."

No way was she ready to watch herself
lose control, but neither could she ignore Greg's professional judgment.
"Okay, print, but we'll do another take on the gazebo scene."

So low only she could hear, Kenzie said,
"Doing several more takes should safely take the excess emotion out and
reduce the scene to nice, clean actor's skill."

She scowled. "Don't try to tell me
that you won't prefer that."

"I'd much rather act this role at
arm's length," he agreed. "But will that give you the movie you
want?"

"What I don't want is a devil's
advocate!"

"Comes with the package, TLC."
He gave her a wintry smile, then rose and left the gazebo while Greg prepared
for the next take.

She sat unmoving on the bench, mentally
cataloguing the number of scenes between Sarah and Randall yet to come. If she
ever came face-to-face with Jane Stackpole in the future, she'd throttle the
girl with her bare hands.

At least, she would if she managed to
survive this movie.