The Right Bride? (24 page)

Everything that could go wrong the next day did. An elderly dog Karyn had been medicating against kidney failure succumbed to the disease, leaving her with the unenviable task of breaking the bad news to the dog’s equally elderly owner. One of the other vets called in sick, doubling her workload in the clinic. This was followed, four hectic hours later, by an emergency call. A farmer’s flock of sheep was threatened with an outbreak of orf, a disease as nasty as it sounded; she and another vet labored long and hard for the rest of the day in the open fields to vaccinate the whole flock. It was backbreaking work, which left her covered in mud and physically exhausted. But at least her shift was finished. Over two and a half hours ago, she thought wryly as she drove home, an old tarp between her trousers and the car seat.

A hot bath and a Greek pizza with extra feta and black olives. That’d fix her up.

She turned the last corner and drove down her street; her mother’s house, which she’d inherited, was at the very end of the road, enclosed in a small grove of birches. The Camdens’ garden halfway down the street was in full bloom; one of Karyn’s plans, when things slowed down at work, was to tackle the garden. Peonies, maybe, and lots of Shasta daisies. Fiona liked peonies.

A car was parked in her driveway. She slewed to a stop.

It looked just like Steve’s car.

A whimper of fear burst from her lips. Wasn’t that what the dream was about? And wasn’t that, irrationally, still her living nightmare? That, somehow, Steve hadn’t really died. Instead he’d been lying in wait for the last year, playing with her, cat and mouse. Wanting her to build a false sense of security before he knocked it to the ground and engulfed her once again.

There was a man standing in the shadow of the lace vine that had entwined the front porch. As he sighted her, he walked down the steps toward her.

A man with black hair. Not blond. It wasn’t Steve. It was Rafe.

Very slowly Karyn climbed out of her car.

Rafe took one look at her face and grabbed her by the arm. “Karyn! For God’s sake, what’s wrong?”

His voice, the breeze flattening his shirt to his chest, the concern in his face: had she ever forgotten anything about him? “I—I thought you were someone—I mean, it startled me, seeing you there.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who did you think I was?”

She tugged her arm free and took refuge in anger. “Nobody! What are you doing here, Rafe Holden? I don’t recall inviting you for a visit.”

He suddenly grinned at her, a boyish grin so full of charm and so laden with male energy that she took an instinctive step back. “You didn’t. I figured if I asked, you’d say no. So I came anyway. Just like you with the Talbots. That worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re so right—I would have said no.”

“I’m taking you out for dinner.” He looked her up and down, from the toes of her mud-caked, steel-toed boots to the streak of dirt on her cheek. “Not many restaurants would let you in the door right now.”

“Some of us work for our living.”

His grin widened. “You can’t insult me that easily, Karyn.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“You do that.” Before she could duck, he reached out and ruffled her hair. “It’s great to see you.”

It was a huge effort not to smile back. “I wish I could say the same. You realize you’ve turned up one day after Fiona told me she’s going to marry John.”

“No sense in wasting time.”

“Are you looking for sympathy?”

“I’d already decided I couldn’t possibly marry Fiona.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

“I’d prefer you did…it happened the first time I saw Fiona and John together. They looked so gloriously happy, so wrapped up in each other.” He hesitated. “I figured if Fiona could break every one of her parents’ rules, I could damn well drop in to see you. So here I am.” He looked her up and down, laughter lurking in his dark blue eyes. “Did you spend your day mud-wrestling?”

With an exasperated sigh, Karyn straightened her aching back. “I vaccinated thirty-three sheep, not one of whom wanted to be anywhere near me or the syringe. You should try it sometime. It’s a humbling experience.”

He laughed outright. “Looks as though they won.”

“There was one ewe who nearly did.” She wouldn’t smile. She wouldn’t. “I’m going inside, having a hot bath and ordering a pizza. You can drive right back to the airport and fly home.”

“That’s not very hospitable of you.”

Now she did smile. “You can’t insult me that easily, Rafe.”

“I can’t fly home. I have pictures of Fiona and John. She’d never speak to me again if I didn’t show them to you.”

“Pass them over. Then vamoose.”

“Not a hope,” he said. “We’re going out for dinner, I have it all planned.” He glanced over his shoulder. “This was your mother’s house, wasn’t it?”

“My neighbor, Bob Camden, used to be a fullback. If I tell him you’re bothering me, he’ll turn you inside out.”

“I scarcely think so. Have you heard of a black belt in karate? Oh Karyn, you look so cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“You also look worn-out.” He took her by the arm and steered her toward the house. “Where are your keys?”

His fingers burned through her shirtsleeve, and briefly her mind went blank. How could she think when all she really wanted to do was fling her arms around him and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe?

She fumbled in her backpack for the house key and inserted it in the front door with a clumsiness that horrified her. In a wash of the same terror that had overwhelmed her the night before, she looked up at him and said with raw truth, “Rafe, you scare the life out of me. I can’t afford to be hurt again, I just can’t!”

So she was still grieving her husband, Rafe thought; ve
hemently he wished it were otherwise. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“Then go home and leave me alone.”

“No. Not yet,” he said, a note in his voice she’d never heard before, and that terrified her with its implacability.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she cried.

“Waiting for you to get ready so we can eat. It’s four hours later for me—I’m hungry.”

She let out her breath in a hiss of fury. “There are lots of restaurants in Charlottetown that’d be delighted to feed you. Then you can get the first flight to Halifax and catch the red-eye to England—you’ve got plenty of time.”

“I traveled in my own jet,” Rafe said calmly, “it’s at the Charlottetown airport. While you’re unlacing those godawful boots, I’ll start a bath for you.”

“Pardon me, of course you’d have your own jet,” she snarled. “And they’re very practical boots—you try being stepped on by a 1,700-pound bull.”

She dumped her pack on the porch floor. It was just as well Rafe didn’t know that underneath her green mantailored shirt and her taupe canvas pants—work clothes that served her well when she had to wrestle sheep—she was wearing an ivory silk bra lavishly decorated with lace. Sexy underwear was her one indulgence—that, and her scent. She’d always loved frivolous underclothes. But Steve hadn’t approved of them; in one of his vicious flares of rage, he’d accused her of being on the make when she went to work at the clinic with lace hidden under her work clothes.

As if she’d had the time or the inclination to look for another man. But to keep the peace she’d put away all her pretty underwear, wearing cotton jockey shorts and grey cotton bras instead.

“You’re a long way away,” Rafe said.

Her lashes flickered. “Oh. Yes. Sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“I’m tired, that’s all,” she said shortly, and bent to undo her laces.

Light as gossamer, Rafe’s lips slid across her nape. Before she could react, he walked away from her, crossing the hall and starting up the stairs. Of its own accord her hand reached up to cup the back of her neck and her eyes closed. Nothing had changed. She still wanted him.

Although
wanted
didn’t seem in any way to express the tumult of longing and desire that had flooded her at that briefest of caresses. She could add panic to the mix, she thought helplessly. The man scared her out of her wits.

Steve had scared her out of her wits. Oh God, what was going on?

After unlacing her second boot, she lined it up on the mat with the first one. She could hear footsteps overhead, then the sound of water filling the tub, ordinary domestic sounds that reignited her fury. Okay, so Rafe had taken her by surprise, and she’d thought he was Steve. But she’d had time to recover and be damned if he was going to have it all his own way.

She marched up the stairs. The bathroom was engulfed in steam and the glorious fragrance of freesias. She read the label on the bottle standing on the vanity, and said blankly, “Where did that come from?”

“I brought it with me.”

“That stuff costs the earth.”

“Hardly.”

“You can’t go giving me expensive presents!”

“Wear something casual,” he said. “You’ll like where we’re going.”

In a low voice Karyn said, “Rafe, don’t ride over me
like that. As though I don’t exist.” Wasn’t that what Steve had done, time and time again?

Rafe stood still, gazing at her. She looked exhausted, he thought with compunction. When she’d first seen him this evening, she’d been terrified; he’d swear to that in a court of law. So was he in danger of hurting her just by being here? Leaning over to turn off the taps before he had a flood on his hands, he said, “I have more money than I know what to do with, and that’s a very small gift. All I want is to give you pleasure, Karyn—and don’t ever think you don’t exist for me.”

She didn’t know what frightened her more, his gentleness or his willpower. “Where were you planning to eat?”

“Will you trust me enough to put yourself in my hands?”

“That’s one heck of a big question,” she said with a flash of defiance.

“I only meant as far as dinner’s concerned,” Rafe said with very little regard for the truth; and to his relief saw her slow nod of agreement. If only he knew more about Karyn’s husband; then maybe he wouldn’t have the sensation that with every move he made, he was stepping into a minefield.

Surely her husband wasn’t anything to do with the whitefaced terror with which she’d greeted him?

Now that he was here, he was going to make it his business to find out about Steven Patterson. While he could have set his investigator on Steve a long time ago, something in Rafe had shrunk from such a course. Yes, he’d needed to investigate Karyn, for Fiona’s sake as well as his own. But he wanted Karyn herself to tell him about Steve. “I’ll wait for you downstairs,” Rafe said, and suited action to word.

He didn’t want to be waiting downstairs, Rafe thought
as he wandered through the pleasant, unpretentious living room to the small dining alcove that overlooked the birch trees and a field of new corn. He wanted to be in Karyn’s bed. But all those years ago when he’d been learning to ride cross-country, hadn’t he been warned never to rush his fences? It was advice he should take to heart right now.

He glanced around at the eclectic collection of books and magazines, at the brightly colored cushions and the few carefully chosen ornaments. On the stereo-stand there was a photo of a smiling couple in their forties: Karyn’s adoptive parents, he’d be willing to bet. But although he prowled through the whole downstairs, he didn’t find a single photo of the man who’d been Karyn’s husband.

One more piece of evidence that Karyn was so deeply sunk in grief she couldn’t bear to be reminded of Steve.

Feeling restless and unsettled, Rafe went outdoors to wait for her.

K
ARYN
came downstairs ten minutes later. Her hair was an aureole of soft curls around her face; her brief blue denim skirt was topped by a figure-hugging sweater in soft pink mohair. Her legs were bare, her feet in flat, thin-strapped sandals. For a moment that was outside of time Rafe stared at her. For six years he’d had his defences firmly in place. He’d dated, had brief affairs and had never allowed anyone to tap the deep well of passion that Celine had desecrated. Everything easy, and according to his own rules.

The woman standing in front of him could breach those defences all too quickly. Or had she already done so?

Karyn said uncomfortably, “Am I too dressed up?” Rafe pulled himself together. “You look beautiful,” he

said. “Isn’t that the wool you bought in Hart’s Run?” “I unraveled the sweater the first time, it would have fit me if I’d been pregnant with triplets. The second time it came out a bit small, but I couldn’t be bothered to try again.”

“I like it just as it is,” he said, and managed to keep his gaze above the level of her breasts.

She blushed, lowered her eyes and muttered, “I just wish I knew why—”

“Dinner first,” he said. “We’ll talk later. I want to go in the general direction of Stanhope.”

As she got in his rented car, she thought out various routes, instantly discarding the one that went past the house she and Steve had lived in. “I’ll navigate,” she said. “Have you made a reservation in Stanhope?”

“You’ll see.” He got in the driver’s seat and took an envelope out of the dash. “Fiona sent this. With her love.”

The envelope was tied with pink ribbon, smelled faintly of lilies of the valley and contained several photos. In each one, Fiona looked radiant, her arm linked with a pleasantfaced, bearded man not much taller than she, who also looked extremely happy. Karyn spoke without thinking. “I’ve never seen Fiona look like that…he must be quite a guy.” Then she added awkwardly, “I didn’t mean that you—”

“Thinking I could marry Fiona was a classic case of self-deception,” Rafe said dryly. “You were the one who said there wasn’t any chemistry between us, and you were right. Luckily Fiona met John. You can imagine Clarissa and Douglas’s reaction—but Fiona stood her ground as though she’d been defying her parents since the day she was born.”

“She said you helped.”

“I pointed out a few basic facts to Douglas—but Fiona took him on first. All by herself.”

“Good for her,” Karyn said. “Anyone who can make an impression on Douglas Talbot has my undying admiration. Which doesn’t include you,” she added. “All you had to do was wave your money in front of him—that doesn’t count.”

“Pity,” Rafe said, his smile crackling with energy. “I’d like to have your undying admiration.”

“For someone who’ll never have it, you look entirely too pleased with yourself.”

For someone who didn’t know what the hell he was doing, he felt entirely too pleased with himself. And with her. Deciding to keep that piece of information to himself, Rafe said, “I love Fiona. I’ve known her since she was a babe in arms, I taught her how to climb trees and jump her first
pony over a stone wall, and I’m delighted she’s found someone she adores. John’s a fine fellow—they’re admirably suited.”

“I wired her a huge bouquet of flowers,” Karyn said. “I do so want her to be happy.”

“She will be, I’m sure. What’s the name of this river?”

Karyn started describing the countryside. Rafe’s questions were penetrating and his interest unfeigned; she expanded, forgetting how angry she was with him, allowing her intelligence full rein, and hearing herself being wittier than usual. Before she knew it, they’d reached the north shore with its miles of sand beaches and red cliffs. Instead of turning toward the restaurants in the area, Rafe parked alongside the beach. Karyn got out, watching as he took a large wicker hamper from the trunk. “Picnic,” he said economically. “Let’s find a table where we can see the water.”

“A picnic?”

“Is that okay?”

“It’s a wonderful idea—I love picnics!”

She looked as entranced as a little girl on Christmas morning. Rafe turned away, wanting to kiss her so badly his whole body was on fire with need. He slammed the trunk shut and walked along the boardwalk. Some picnic tables had been set on a grass verge overlooking the long stretch of surf; he dumped the hamper on the furthest one. “Let’s eat.”

Karyn unlatched the lid and peered inside, lifting out one of the delicate china plates with its hand-painted pattern of flowering herbs. “It’s a work of art,” she marveled. “Don’t tell me those are lobster rolls—my favorite.”

“There’s caviar and chicken, as well, and an avocado salad. Not to mention dessert.”

“Chocolate?” she said hopefully.

“Dark chocolate mousse with truffles and hazelnuts.”

Karyn laughed out loud. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

He took out two crystal champagne flutes and the bottle of champagne that had been wrapped in a towel to keep it chilled. “We’ll start with this.”

She raised her brows. “A high-class picnic.”

“Not quite the best money can buy,” he grinned, “but getting close.”

The cork came out with a most satisfying pop, bubbles rising like foam on the shore. Rafe raised his glass and for a moment was tongue-tied. He knew what he wanted to say. At least he thought he did. But it was way too soon. He drawled, “May all the vaccinated sheep be as healthy as horses.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then she unwrapped a crusty roll crammed with lobster, crisp celery and a deliciously tangy dressing and began to eat.

Rafe dug into the caviar, enjoying her pleasure in what was, by his standards, a very simple meal. The wind from the ocean was playing with her curls; her eyes were a deeper blue than the sea, although just as full of mysterious depths. Color tinted her cheeks. Helping her to salad, Rafe began to talk about his newest hotel, located on New Zealand’s South Island.

Eventually Karyn had eaten her fill. She licked the last smear of chocolate from her spoon. “That was incredible. If I ate like this every day, I’d be as fat as a barrel.”

“You’re too thin.”

“You’re supposed to say I’m perfect,” she responded pertly. “This was a much better choice than a restaurant, Rafe, thank you so much. I feel like a new woman.”

“You’ve got chocolate on your chin,” he said, leaned forward and wiped it off with one finger.

His face was so close she could have counted his eyelashes. If she’d been able to count. “Rafe, why are you here?” she blurted.

He poured two demitasses of coffee from a thermos, taking his time. “To bring you Fiona’s photos—much as she loves you, she can’t tear herself away from John right now to give them to you herself.”

“There’s a marvelous invention called the post office. What’s the real reason?”

He had no intention of giving his cards away too soon; he’d learned a thing or two about strategy over the years. “I’m checking out a possible hotel purchase in Toronto and thought I’d drop in on the way.”

She gave a rude snort. “Toronto’s 2,500 miles away. You can skip that one, too.”

“It’s for real,” he said mildly. “I travel hundreds of thousands of miles a year, a detour like this is nothing. Besides, you’re Fiona’s sister, and I wanted to see how you were.”

“So it’s nothing to do with that kiss in the woods?”

“Only if we want it to be.”

Karyn said with a careful lack of emphasis, “I like my life the way it is. Sure, we lust after each other—so what? We aren’t going to do anything about it.”

“You’re right, we aren’t,” he said cheerfully. “So you won’t mind if I hang around for a day or two.”

“It’s a free country—I can’t stop you,” she said coldly.

“We’ll go for dinner somewhere fancy tomorrow. What time do you have to be at work the next day?”

“I’m on the late shift,” she said, eying him suspiciously.

“Good. Pack a toothbrush.”

“I’m not going anywhere overnight with—”

“I’ve never in my life taken anything from a woman that
she wasn’t willing to give, and I don’t plan to start with you.”

His jaw was a tense line, his eyes unsmiling. Karyn said slowly, “I hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, you did.”

She could have apologized. But hadn’t she spent a great deal of time apologizing to Steve, often for things that weren’t her fault? She said coolly, “You’re a big boy, Rafe, you can handle it. Where are we going for dinner?”

“It’ll be a surprise. I guarantee you’ll like it and that you’ll have a good time—how’s that for arrogance?”

“You took the word out of my mouth.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “Wear your best dress. There’s live music, too—do you like to dance?”

“Dance with you—no way!”

“Why not?” he asked blandly.

“I’d jump on you on the dance floor,” she said, her scowl deepening.

“Fine by me.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind.”

He said deliberately, “Did you ever feel that way about Steve?”

She surged to her feet in a move from which all her natural grace had been stripped. “I don’t want to talk about Steve!”

“Then we won’t,” Rafe said, all his senses on high alert. “Tell me about the clinic instead. Or the teacher you had a crush on in grade seven.”

Karyn was wringing her hands; he was almost sure she didn’t know she was doing it. “I have to be at work at eight tomorrow morning,” she said, “we should go back.”

“A ten-minute walk on the beach first. It’s a glorious sunset.”

He was putting the food and plates back in the basket.
Feeling trapped and beleaguered, Karyn said choppily, “I’m not playing hard to get. I’m not interested in your money and I couldn’t care less about your status.”

Rafe knew the truth when he heard it. “Good,” he said. “With regards to my money, you’re in a minority of two—you and Fiona…I’ll put the hamper back in the car and meet you on the beach.”

So Karyn wandered down to the sand by herself, slipping off her sandals and letting the smooth grains slide between her toes. The surf’s endless rhythms laved her ears; a pair of terns swooped in elegant curves over the white crests. I can handle Rafe, she thought in a surge of confidence, and walked down to the water’s edge, letting the marbled foam wash over her feet. It was numbingly, bone-achingly cold.

With a tiny shriek she leaped backward. Into Rafe’s arms.

She stood very still, watching the mosaic of orange and gold light dance on the sea as the sun’s brilliant disc was slowly swallowed by the horizon. His hands were clasping her shoulders; he’d pulled her into his body, her back to his chest, his cheek to her ear. The heavy thud of his heart, the strength of his fingers, the waft of his breath in her hair, each was an astonishing intimacy, somehow bound up with the elemental powers of the ocean. Karyn closed her eyes, savoring every sensation, until her body was suffused with a liquid heat. Only then did she turn to face him.

The strong planes of his face were lit by the dying rays of the sun; his eyes, eyes that held the darkness of night, were fastened on her. She knew what was going to happen and welcomed it, opening to him before his lips as much as touched hers.

Rafe slid his arms around her, his hands stroking the soft wool of her sweater; he felt like a teenager before his first
kiss, he thought dimly. He also felt as though he held the whole world in his arms.

She was a woman. Just a woman.

Then his mouth found the soft, delicious curve of her lips, and in an upwelling of pure sensation he stopped thinking altogether. Plunging with his tongue, savoring the fluid sweetness that was Karyn, he pulled her tight to him, molding her to his body. His groin had hardened instantly. Rather than pulling away, she pressed herself into him, trembling very lightly, her fingernails digging into his back.

He slid his mouth down the taut line of her throat, nuzzling the pulse in the hollow at its base where her blood was racing in tandem with his. Pushing her sweater aside, he found the silken curve of her shoulder, tasting, licking, nibbling until he wondered if he’d go out of his mind. The rise of her breast fit his palm perfectly; her nipple was as hard as a tiny shell. She moaned his name, cupped his face in her hands and pulled his mouth down to hers.

When he opened his eyes, hers, blazingly blue, were so close he could drown in them. Was drowning in them, he thought, and somehow found his voice. “Karyn, someone’s coming—we’ve got an audience.”

Another couple, hand in hand, was wandering toward them down the beach. She said dazedly, “Do we care?”

He wanted to protect her, he realized. From everything, including prying eyes. “I care,” he said. “What’s between us is private.”

Karyn stepped back. The sand underfoot was both wet and cold, bringing her to her senses. “The only thing between us is old-fashioned lust,” she said faintly.

“Even if that’s true, it’s still our concern. Not anyone else’s.”

He turned her to face the sea again, his arms wrapped around her body, hands linked at her waist. She leaned
back, glad of his support because her knees felt as wobbly as jellyfish. She herself felt desired, sensual and fully alive, sheltered in the heat of Rafe’s body. Had she ever luxuriated so instinctively in the pleasure of being held?

The sun had disappeared; the distant clouds were painted all the shades of pink and gold. She murmured, “I love the sea, don’t you?”

“I own a little place in the Outer Hebrides, you can hear the surf through every window.” The other couple had passed them. Even though he yearned to continue a kiss that had stunned him with its potency, Rafe said easily, “I should get you home.”

Karyn sighed, reluctant to leave even though she knew he was right. A romantic sunset, a beautiful beach, a man whose body entranced her: they’d all worked their spell. But now the spell was broken, and home was where she belonged. Back to reality, she thought ruefully, loosing the clasp of his hands and stepping away from him. “The water was like ice,” she remarked, trying to mask how suddenly and inexplicably bereft she felt.

“Have you ever swum in the Bahamas? Or the Mediterranean?”

Steve had taken her to St. Lucia once; it had been a disaster from beginning to end, his obsessive jealousy poisoning every breath she took. She said evasively, “It must be lovely.”