Starlight (11 page)

“Ready for a strawberry?” Karen questioned, but when Rand reached for one, she
restrained his hand and instead carried it to his mouth. Hesitantly, Rand accepted it, rubbing the juice from his chin as he bit into the tender pulp.

“Your turn,” he insisted. Her lips trembled as his fingers touched her mouth, awakening within her a whole range of sensual sensations. When they kissed, the taste of fresh strawberries, mingled with the wine, was more potent than anything Karen had ever experienced.

His hands fell away from her shoulders as Rand took a deep, uneven breath. “I think we’d both benefit from some cold air.”

Karen’s breath wasn’t any less jagged. “Yes,” she said, finding her voice barely audible against the tightening in her throat. She was so intoxicated with her love for Rand that tears stung her eyes.

The night was cold and dark; the wind bit into Karen as they walked hand in hand across the campus. They needed the cold to put things into perspective, to remove them from the passion of the moment.

By mutual agreement, they chose the paved pathway leading to Commencement Bay. Lovers of all ages had used the path leading to the beautiful waters of Puget Sound. There was a freshness in the air, and Karen inhaled deeply, finding the faint odor of salt water pleasant. The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she ignored the cold, taking delight in the simple pleasure of walking along the beach with the man she loved. There was no need for words; it was their spirits that communicated. Rand needn’t voice his love; his arm, pressing her possessively against his side, warding off the brunt of the wind, said it far more effectively than words.

Karen was too full of pleasure to speak. When Rand paused, stopping to gaze into the dark, cold night, the only sound was the pounding of the surf against the smooth beach. Somehow Karen found herself in his arms; their lips met in a fiery kiss that fused them together. Karen clung to him. He was her love, her life for all eternity. Nothing could ever make her happier than what she was at this moment.

“Oh, Karen,” he groaned, his voice deep and pained.

“No.” Her fingers hushed his lips. “Don’t talk.” She buried her face against his coat, feeling the roughness of his breath against her hair.

He walked Karen to the parking lot where she had left her car. Again, he kissed her, a feather-light kiss that teased and promised.

“I’ll be out of town this weekend,” he whispered into her hair. His finger gently circled the small of her back in a sensuous movement that melted her bones. “Meet me at the airport Sunday afternoon.”

Karen seemed incapable of speech; his physical impact on her was complete.

“I’d like to show you my home.” Gently, he released her from his embrace.

“I’d like that,” she managed, extracting herself from his arms.

He opened the car door for her. “Drive carefully,” he cautioned, and Karen watched him from the rearview mirror as he stood in the lot until she was safely on her way.

Sunday afternoon, Karen chose a dark chestnut-colored wool skirt and a cream cashmere sweater with a single gold strand woven in a delicate pattern to wear to the airport. She debated between boots or her heels, finally deciding on the knee-high leather boots because it was raining. She was adding the final touches to her makeup when Matthew spoke.

“Ye seeing Rand again?” His eyes showed appreciation for Karen’s natural good looks.

She turned sharply at the unexpected intrusion, her eyes angry. “Dad, you did it again. When will you learn to knock?” It was more a statement of indignation than a question.

“Lass”—Matthew gestured helplessly, showing impatience with himself—“I keep forgetting.”

It was impossible to be angry with her father when she was in such high spirits. “Well, try, won’t you?”

Karen knew he was just as likely to walk in unannounced the next time.

“Ye seeing Rand again?”

Karen knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d told him about their dinner date. “Yes, I’m meeting him at the airport. We’re having dinner at his home near Graham.”

“You love him, don’t ye, lass?” The question was more of an announcement, and Karen couldn’t deny the obvious. Besides, Matthew was a master in the art of inquisition and would have dragged the words from her one way or another.

“Yes, I do … very much.” Self-consciously, she lowered her eyes.

Matthew flashed her a proud smile. “Randall Prescott will make me a fine son-in-law. You’ve chosen well.”

“Dad,” Karen said with indignation, “you’re rushing things. There’s been no talk of marriage.”

“Aye, but there will be,” he said confidently.

Karen laughed impishly. “If I have anything to say about it, there will be.” It was
impossible to imagine life without Rand now.

“Ye know, the course of true love between your mother and me wasn’t smooth. I had my problems getting her to agree to marriage.”

Karen was shocked. As far as she knew, her mother and father had been madly in love from the time they’d met.

Her eyes must have shown her surprise. “Your mother was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I took one look at her sweet face and knew I wanted her for my wife. But I was thirteen years older than Madeline, and her parents didn’t take kindly to a thirty-one-year-old man courting their teenage daughter.”

“Little wonder.” Karen knew, of course, that thirteen years separated her parents, but she’d never thought of it in terms of eighteen and thirty-one. Nor had she been aware that her grandparents had voiced any objection to her father.

“Not only did Madeline’s parents not trust me, but yer mother had more beaux than a movie star. For a while I became discouraged, but in time I was able to win her over.”

“But, Dad, what did you do?”

Matthew followed Karen into the kitchen and bent close to whisper: “I’ve never told another living soul this, but I tricked your mother into marrying me. But not for a day did she regret it.”

“You didn’t,” Karen said with a gasp.

“Aye, but I did.”

Karen could hardly believe what she was hearing. “How did you trick Mom?”

His whole face broke into a wide, mischievous grin. “I whisked her away. By the time we arrived in Idaho, she’d agreed to be me wife.”

Karen felt the sudden need to sit down. “You mean to tell me you kidnapped Mom?”

Matthew laughed boyishly. “It was hardly a kidnapping. I was just helping her make up her mind.”

For a moment, Karen was dumbfounded. “Honestly, Dad, you astonish me.”

“Aye, it was a brave thing, but your mother never regretted it. I knew she loved me.”

Karen would have said more, but her doorbell rang. When she introduced Carl to her father, the two men shook hands respectfully. Karen slipped on her full-length leather coat, and the three left together. Matthew was invited to Evan and Milly Forsyth’s for Sunday dinner and promised to give them Karen’s love.

The drive to Sea-Tac Airport was accomplished in a companionable silence. Carl
seemed to be a quiet, gentle man about the same age as Matthew. His loyalty to Rand was unquestionable. They parked with relative ease and waited in baggage claim.

Rand was the last passenger to arrive, and again the sight of this virile man sent her heartbeat racing. She experienced the urge to rush to him and hug him fiercely; instead, she walked forward almost hesitantly and whispered his name.

Smiling, Rand immediately held his arms open for her. Karen was there in a second, as if it were the most natural place in the world for her to be.

“Welcome home.” Carl greeted him with a smile.

“Thanks, Carl. It’s good to be home.” He smiled at Karen, his look tender and warm. Slipping his arm around her waist, he added, “Very good indeed.”

After a thirty-minute drive, Carl turned off the road and into a long driveway. Karen watched with growing anticipation for the first view of Rand’s home. Having him invite her to his home held a special significance; Karen felt it was almost symbolic. The final defense was being lowered.

She tensed slightly as they drove down the winding driveway. The first view of the house left Karen awestruck. The house was magnificent, a long, sprawling, contemporary rambler. The large grounds were landscaped meticulously. Another smaller home stood in the distance and roused her interest.

Carl answered her unspoken curiosity. “The smaller house is for me and the missus.” His voice was filled with pride.

Holding her hand, Rand led her into his home. He was confident and sure in the familiar surroundings; his movements were precise and made with ease. They stood in the elegantly tiled entryway that led to a sunken living room. The fireplace was lit, the flames reflecting a warm, welcoming glow. A solid-oak dining-room table was set in the formal dining room off the spacious kitchen. The candles flickering from the table’s centerpiece cast dancing shadows across the bone china and crystal glassware.

“It’s beautiful … everything’s beautiful.” Karen spoke with a sense of awe. Rand’s personality was stamped in every piece of furniture, every room. He had allowed her into the inner sanctum of his life; this home was his pride. Shown a hundred different locales, Karen would have immediately known this house belonged to Rand.

Carl brought in the luggage with the instruction to call when Karen was ready to leave.

The door had no sooner closed behind him when Rand turned to her. Very gently, he took her face between his hands. “I’ve missed you.” He bent forward and kissed her with a fierceness that spoke of longing and frustration. Karen responded with an urgency that matched his own. It had always been like this between them; that jolt of charged
electricity that sparked the fire of awareness until every nerve sang with life.

He whispered her name, and then slowly released her. With her eyes still closed, Karen swayed toward him. Rand chuckled and kissed her again fleetingly before placing an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the dining room.

“Let’s eat,” he murmured, “while I’m still in control of my senses.”

Karen would have willingly forgone the meal to have remained in his arms.

As before, Dorothy’s cooking was superb. Karen couldn’t remember ever tasting chicken tetrazzini with such exquisite flavor.

After the meal, they decided to have their coffee in front of the fireplace in the living room. Karen cleared the table and brought in the coffee on a tray already prepared by the efficient Dorothy.

Enjoying the warmth of the fire, they talked for a long time. With her head resting against Rand’s shoulder, his arm around her, Karen discovered they shared several interests. They enjoyed the same authors, and both played chess and were addicted to mellow music.

While Karen returned the coffee tray to the kitchen, Rand placed a CD featuring Rimsky-Korsakov’s
Scheherazade
into his CD player. The melodious sounds filled the air as Karen returned.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, kind sir?” She curtsied before him, her wool skirt brushing the cream pile carpeting. “As I recall, the last time I did this I was rudely rejected.”

“The last time you wanted to dance, we were on a downtown sidewalk with half of Tacoma looking on,” he remarked, his voice full of humor.

Karen giggled, lifting her arm in entreaty, her body already swaying to the music. “You have no sense of adventure,” she chided him softly.

He gathered her in his arms, his body moving rhythmically with hers. “Every time I’m with you, it’s an adventure.” His hand arched her spine closer, pressing her body intimately against the hard length of his.

Karen closed her eyes and nestled against Rand, glorying in the dizzy emotions he could arouse within her.

They danced, although they barely moved, content to be in each other’s arms, lost in a world created only for them.

When the CD finished, they didn’t move. The pressure of Rand’s fingers at the base of her neck lifted her face upward to meet his descending mouth. Obediently, Karen’s lips parted as she molded herself against him, responding with all her love to his deepening kiss. Her hands around his neck were winding a path through his hair, pulling
him closer, igniting a slow-burning fire of passion between them until Karen ached.

The fierceness of his lovemaking awoke yearnings Karen had never experienced, and she moaned in surrender as Rand lowered her onto the couch. His hungry mouth claimed hers again and again while his hand slid intimately over her body, seeking the satin contours of her breasts. Caught in the powerful undertow of her love, Karen felt herself drowning in an ocean of sensations.

Suddenly, Rand raised his head, holding himself away from her. “No … no,” he uttered harshly, his voice hoarse and barely distinct.

Suddenly bereft, Karen tried unsuccessfully to bring his mouth back to hers, struggling against him, holding him as if her life depended on his.

Angrily, his hand closed over her wrists, firmly pushing her away. He stood and strode across the room, his fingers raking his hair.

Bewildered, Karen sat upright. She was shocked by her wanton behavior, but equally disturbed by Rand’s rejection. Her cheeks flamed red from embarrassment and the lingering effects of desire.