by Sandra Field
Feeling absurdly guilty, Karyn took one. “I’ll have to take some of these home with me,” she said lightly. “I called the clinic and they’ve had a flu outbreak. So I changed my flight and I’m going home tomorrow.”
Fury flashed across Rafe’s face, and then was gone as if it had never been. Fiona said in genuine dismay, “Tomorrow? Oh, Karyn, you can’t go that soon.”
“You can visit me, Fiona. Anytime.”
“I could, couldn’t I? But promise you’ll come for Christmas. I’m sure by then Mother and Dad will be happy to see you.”
Karyn wouldn’t count on it. “That’d be lovely,” she said.
“Mother always decorates with holly and hundreds of candles, it’s so beautiful. And Rafe throws a huge party here at Stoneriggs on New Year’s Eve, you’ll have to come to that.”
Maybe she’d break a leg the week before Christmas, Karyn thought wildly. Fall off a horse. Be trampled by a sick cow. “I don’t have any fancy clothes.”
“If you weren’t going home tomorrow, we could go shopping in London,” Fiona wailed. “It’s much too soon for you to leave.”
“I have to go. My boss has always been very good to me, and the least I can do is help out when they need me.”
“In that case,” Fiona said, “you and I are going to stay up all night and talk. I don’t want to waste a single minute.”
“I’m flying to Oslo early tomorrow morning, and I’ve got some paperwork to clear up before I go,” Rafe said brusquely. “So I won’t see you again, Karyn—have a safe trip.”
Feeling as though her heart was being torn from her body, for the next time she saw him he might well be married to Fiona, Karyn said stiffly, “Thanks for everything.”
“For heaven’s sake,” Fiona said impatiently, “give her a kiss, Rafe. She’s my sister!”
Praying that her wince of dismay had been invisible, Karyn stood as stiff as a china doll as Rafe chastely put his lips to her cheek. She didn’t dare meet his eyes; she’d be finished if she did.
Rafe kissed Fiona on the cheek as well, and headed for his study as though pursued by a pack of wolves. By tomorrow night Karyn would be boarding a plane that would carry her four thousand miles away. Home, where she belonged.
He didn’t want passion. So the sooner she went home, the better.
Four thousand miles sounded just fine to him.
CHAPTER FIVE
KARYN had spent the last couple of hours in the company of a cow with bloat. While the cow was feeling better for the encounter, it could by no stretch be called a romantic way to spend an afternoon. So why was she thinking about Rafe as she took the turn from the farmer’s muddy driveway onto the highway?
She thought about him entirely too often, especially at night. Which wasn’t romantic, either. It was painful and disturbing and made her very unhappy.
Rafe had awoken her body from its long sleep; and now, unfortunately, it wouldn’t go back to its state of dormancy. Nor—so she’d discovered—could she substitute anyone other than Rafe. For the first time since she was widowed, she’d gone out on a couple of dates, one with another vet and one with a city planner from Charlottetown. Both were nice men, who’d kissed her good-night with enthusiasm; and both had left her cold. Rafe was the man she wanted.
Rafe was the man she couldn’t have. So was she simply craving the forbidden?
She and Fiona kept in constant contact by e-mail. Often Fiona’s e-mails mentioned Rafe’s name; always they served as a reminder of him. Phrases stuck in Karyn’s mind…Rafe invited me to a dance at the castle last night, I wore a very classy silver dress…Rafe’s off to New Zealand to check out a new hotel… Rafe’s so incredibly good at keeping Mother and Dad off my back. Even, occasionally, Rafe says hello. Upon which Karyn would grit her teeth and type back, Hi to Rafe.
At no time did Fiona say anything about Rafe proposing to her. Did that mean he’d decided against marrying her? Or that he was still thinking about it?
With a big sigh Karyn brought her attention back to the present. May had merged into June. The fields were green with sprouting corn and drills of potatoes; the cows looked sleek and well-fed. Then, as she wound down a long hill, her foot hit the brake. She always tried to avoid this road, but today her mind had been more on Rafe than on the route she’d chosen. To her right was the split-level where the Harveys lived with their young son, Donny. A bicycle was lying on the lawn; a red SUV was parked in the driveway. Saving Donny Harvey from drowning had cost Steve his life…
Next door to the Harveys was the house she and Steve had shared, an attractive blue Cape Cod.
Behind both houses lay the sinuous curve of the river.
Her hands were clenched around the wheel so tightly her wrists hurt. Steve was going to walk out the door, she thought wildly, in his gray business suit and expensive trench coat, his eyes a cold, pale blue.
She braked hard, pulling over onto the shoulder of the road. Her forehead dropped to the wheel; she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to obliterate the surge of ugly memories. Steve’s face contorted with rage. The cruel grip of his fingers. His voice hammering at her, his endless questions, his prying into every corner of her life.
Worst of all, the sensation that—no matter where she went—he was watching her.
Karyn could hear her own breathing harsh in her ears. She raised her head. No one was walking out of the door of the blue house, she thought dully. No one.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her. No wonder she’d repressed the two years of her marriage; the alternative was too frightening.
As though a lightbulb had been turned on, she suddenly realized that it didn’t matter whether Rafe got engaged to Fiona or not. Didn’t matter at all. Even if he stayed as free as—as that crow flying across the road—she couldn’t possibly get involved with him.
How had she described Steve to Fiona? Tall, blond and handsome. Wasn’t Rafe tall, dark and handsome? Charismatic, like Steve. Sexy like Steve. Dangerous like Steve. Because Rafe, like Steve, made her lose her head and melt in his arms in all-too-easy surrender.
How stupid she’d been the past ten days not to have figured this out! Instead she’d moped around the house, allowing dreams and fantasies of Rafe to dominate her life.
No more, she decided militantly. She should have driven past Steve’s house long before this; it had just taught her a salutary lesson.
She simply wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone: city planner, veterinarian or one of the richest men in England. Maybe she never would be. There’d be no more dates, no more kisses on the front step; and no more mooning over a black-haired man she wouldn’t kiss on the doorstep or anywhere else. In fact, if Rafe did get engaged it could be seen as a bonus, in case she backslid.
For the first time, she felt glad to be home.
It wasn’t quite as easy as Karyn had anticipated to oust Rafe from her thoughts. She still dreamed about him regularly, waking with her body aching with unfulfilled desire. As well, his face would flash across her mind at the most inconvenient times; she’d want to share a joke with him, or tell him about the horse whose colic she’d cured. Instead she e-mailed Fiona with all the events of her day.
However, as time passed, Fiona’s responses became less frequent, and stopped mentioning Rafe altogether. Stopped mentioning anything very much. With a perplexed frown, Karyn read a message from her sister that described the raspberry crop and the slugs in the lettuce in exhaustive detail. I’m glad the raspberries are fine and the slugs aren’t, she e-mailed back, but how are you? For four days she didn’t hear a word. Then, as she entered the house after work one afternoon, tired from a nine-hour shift, the phone was ringing. She wasn’t on call. But she’d better get it anyway.
“Karyn? It’s Fiona.”
“Are you all right?” Karyn demanded. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Oh, Karyn, I can’t tell you how happy I am! I’ve fallen in love. Head over heels in love.”
With Rafe, Karyn thou
ght with a sick jolt in her chest. And why not? The lack of chemistry between Fiona and Rafe, which Karyn had noticed and Rafe hadn’t denied, was because Fiona hadn’t been in love with her friend of so many years. But now she was.
“It happened so suddenly,” Fiona burbled on, “between one moment and the next—just like in the books. Love at first sight… I don’t care if it’s a cliché, it’s absolutely true and so wonderful I don’t even know how to describe it.”
She had to say something. Injecting as much warmth in her voice as she could, Karyn said, “Congratulations… although I’d hardly call it love at first sight.”
“He’s such a lovely man, why didn’t I ever notice that before? Oh, Karyn, I suppose I shouldn’t say this, but he kisses like a dream. Absolutely delicious…”
Karyn knew he did. Her heart congealing into a cold lump in her rib cage, she muttered, “Perhaps you were too close to him to really appreciate him before this.”
“I don’t know what you mean—I’d only seen him a couple of times.”
Karyn frowned. “What are you talking about? You’ve known him all your life.”
“All my life?” Fiona repeated in a puzzled voice. “No, I haven’t. Although it feels like I’ve been waiting for him all my life.” She gave a delighted giggle. “I’m going away with him this weekend and I’m not even nervous about it. He just feels so right, Karyn. So absolutely perfect.”
Karyn said faintly, “Are you or are you not talking about Rafe?”
“Rafe? Goodness, no, whatever gave you that idea? I couldn’t possibly fall in love with Rafe! I’m talking about John.”
Karyn sat down hard on the floor, wondering if she was going out of her mind. She said evenly, “Fiona, will you please begin at the beginning? I thought you meant you’d fallen in love with Rafe.”
“You must be joking,” Fiona said blithely. “Rafe’s like a brother to me. He’s never been remotely like a lover.”
Sounding like a robot, fully aware that Rafe had already given her this information, Karyn said, “You’ve never been Rafe’s lover.”
“Nope—not even close.” Fiona sighed. “Mother and Dad would love me to get engaged to Rafe, they’ve been dropping very broad hints in that direction lately. They’re not going to be too happy when they find out I’m passionately in love with someone else and want to marry him instead…but they should have known Rafe was never in the running.”
“So tell me about John,” Karyn mumbled, her emotions in a turmoil.
“John Settler. Fourth son of an earl, so that’s all right. And he’s got more than enough money for the two of us, although nothing like what Rafe has, of course. Because he’s not content to live off his inheritance, he apprenticed as a cabinetmaker, and now he makes the most beautiful furniture that he sells at outrageous prices. I’d seen him around town once or twice, but we’d never connected. Then Mother invited him to the house to see if he could design a wardrobe for her bedroom, and that was that. Game over. We were head over heels in love.”
How ironic that Clarissa herself had precipitated what must have been a bitter blow to her. “What does he look like?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Brown hair and deep brown eyes and a beard, and he’s the kindest man I’ve ever met.” With a maturity new to her, Fiona added, “I think kindness can go a long way, don’t you?”
Steve had been anything but kind. “I do, yes.”
“He thinks I’m wonderful and he makes me laugh. Karyn, I’m so happy!” After a telltale hesitation, Fiona added shyly, “We’ve been to bed together—that was lovely, too. I’d never done it before. I’m glad John was the first.”
“I—I didn’t realize you’d never been to bed with anyone. We never talked about that.”
“There’ve been men who’ve kissed me in a loverlike kind of way. Trying it on, I suppose. Even Rafe did that once, one evening at Willowbend.” Fiona paused thoughtfully. “About the time you turned up.”
Karyn would be willing to bet Rafe had kissed Fiona right after a very different kiss under the oak trees. As Fiona chattered on, she struggled to pay attention. Fiona finished by saying with a touching new confidence, “Even though I haven’t told my parents yet, John and I will be getting married this summer. You’ll be sure to come for the wedding and be my maid of honor? Floral colors in chiffon, I thought, and lots of sweet peas and garden flowers. Don’t you think that sounds pretty?”
“Beautiful,” Karyn said, and asked the critical question. “Will you invite Rafe?”
Sounding shocked, Fiona replied, “Of course I will. I couldn’t get married without Rafe being there.”
“Does he know about John?”
“Oh, yes. I tell Rafe everything. He was a bit taken aback at first, and who can blame him? So was I! But he’s really happy for me.” Again Fiona paused. “Almost relieved, in a way that I don’t quite understand. Maybe he’d been worrying about my single state…by the way, did I tell you how sweet John is with the animals at the shelter?”
“You didn’t, no.” With heartfelt warmth Karyn said, “Fiona, your news took me by surprise, too. But I’m delighted for you…I wish you and John years of happiness together. And guess what—I get a new brother-in-law out of the deal.”
“The best one in the whole world. Promise you’ll come to the wedding?”
“All right,” Karyn gulped, “I promise…let me know the date, won’t you? I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”
“You, too. ’Bye, Karyn.”
Karyn scrambled to her feet, replaced the receiver and stared blankly at the wall.
Rafe was never going to marry Fiona, because Fiona had—in all innocence—fallen in love with someone else. She, Karyn, would never have to cope with Rafe as her sister’s husband, or as the father of her sister’s children.
For a moment sheer relief transfixed her. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, leaving her light and suffused with unthinking happiness; as though she could dance around the kitchen.
But in all too rapid succession, that thought was followed by another. What she’d come to view as a safety net was no longer in place. Rafe was a free man. He’d even been relieved to hear Fiona was in love with someone else.
Why had he been relieved?
Why did it matter? After driving past Steve’s house a couple of weeks ago, she’d decided Rafe’s marital status was immaterial to her; because of the long shadow Steve had cast, she wasn’t even ready to date anyone.
She’d believed her own assertions, wholeheartedly. For exactly fourteen days.
Now they were wavering like flags in the breeze.
Thank heavens Rafe lived four thousand miles away. All she had to do was pray that he stay there.
As the golden light of evening streamed through the window, it seemed obvious to Karyn that Rafe would stay safely in England, where he belonged. A man of enormous wealth, he’d just been supplanted by a cabinetmaker, the fourth son of an earl. No, Rafe wouldn’t hightail it to a small island across the Atlantic in hot pursuit of Fiona’s twin sister.
A ridiculous prospect. Besides, she shouldn’t flatter herself she was that important to him.
But that night, when the stars were glimmering coldly through the skylight over her bed, Karyn wasn’t so sanguine. She remembered with searing clarity every moment she’d spent with Rafe, from the spark that had leaped between them on that first encounter in the woods, to the heat of his body when he’d shielded her on the stairs at Stoneriggs.
None of this had been trivial. She couldn’t pretend that it had been: to minimize his feelings or hers would be an insult to both of them. She burrowed into the pillow, wishing with all her heart that she’d never met him.
If she hadn’t, she’d never have met Fiona; who’d enriched her life so immeasurably.
When Karyn did finally fall asleep, she didn’t dream about Rafe, as she’d expected to. She dreamed about Steve. It was the same dream that had haunted her ever since his death; a drea
m saturated with a terror all the more powerful for being amorphous. It was only at the end of the dream, after she’d been running through endless dark alleyways, her breath sobbing in her ears, that she burst out into the open and saw, right in front of her, her husband, Steve. He had a gun in his hand, and was slowly lifting it to point at her heart.
She always woke up just as his finger tightened on the trigger. Tonight was no exception. Her pulses racing, her body rigid, Karyn stared up at the night sky and knew she had her answer. It didn’t matter what Rafe did, whether he got engaged to ten different women or moved to Antarctica. He wasn’t for her.
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.