The English Aristocrat's Bride

by Sandra Field

  Karyn stood still; through the open windows she could hear the shush of the breeze through the beech trees. She hated every word he was telling her. She was jealous, she thought incredulously, jealous of a woman Rafe had loved years ago.

  Perhaps he still did.

  “Celine traveled a lot with her job, as did I. But whenever we could meet, we did.” Rafe grimaced. “Now I can see that the long-distance aspect was what made our affair last as long as it did, yet simultaneously destroyed it. The ending was predictable. I got home early from Bangkok and found her in bed with another man. Not the only man she’d been seeing, so I discovered when I confronted her. She’d been systematically betraying me from the beginning, all the while swearing her fidelity.”

  In the dim glow of light from the hall, his face was bleak. Karyn said gently, “I’m sorry.”

  “We all have to grow up sometime…but I’d trusted her. Completely. She laughed in my face, that was the worst of it. As though I’d been an utter fool to take her at her word. But, Rafe, no one stays just with one man…how bourgeois.”

  “That was hateful of her,” Karyn said hotly.

  “After that night, I never saw her again. But from then on I only dated women who knew the score, and I kept all my defences in place. Like you,” he finished sardonically, “I wasn’t into commitment.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? “Lots of women are capable of fidelity.”

  “Fiona would have been, certainly. I knew her. I trusted her. I loved her in a way that didn’t scare the hell out of me.”

  The words were out before Karyn could stop them. “Do you still love Celine?”

  “No. It took a while, but eventually my feelings for her died.”

  “You don’t love me.”

  Rafe winced inwardly. “I don’t know what I feel. Other than straightforward lust.”

  “Do I scare the hell out of you?”

  “Yes.”

  His monosyllable hung in the air between them. Karyn said evenly, “One more reason for you to fly straight home tomorrow.”

  “And live like a coward for the rest of my life? I don’t think so.” He hesitated. “I’m being as honest as I can when I say that marrying Fiona would have suited me in other ways. You see, I was ready to settle down. Spend more time at Stoneriggs, and raise a family. Fiona’s always liked the idea of having children. It all fit together.” He hesitated again. “I still want to settle down and have a couple of kids. Just not with Fiona.”

  A cold fist was squeezing Karyn’s heart. She said quietly, “There must be lots of women who’d be very happy to be your wife and the mother of your children. Go home and find one, Rafe.”

  “I can’t do that. Not when I’m beginning to think you’re the one I want.”

  “That’s ridiculous! We’ve scarcely spent any time together, and the circumstances have been so complicated—you don’t know anything about me.”

  Some things you know from the beginning? She sure didn’t want to hear that. “You’re forgetting something. I know Fiona. So in a way I know you.”

  “My life’s been completely different from Fiona’s!”

  “Why don’t you tell me how? Not the money, not your career—the rest of it.”

  She bent to undo the straps of her shoes, her dress glimmering softly, her cleavage shadowed; her shawl was a ghostly white. “Let’s cut to the chase. You’re asking for intimacy. I don’t do intimacy. I don’t do long-term. Get that through your head.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Because it hurts too much.” She was telling the truth, she told herself fiercely. Well, sort of. It had just hurt in a different way than anyone else realized.

  Rafe gazed at her in silence, his nerves stretched tight. She was talking about Steve. About a pain so deep that a year later she wouldn’t even consider getting involved with another man. “You’re the one who suggested we cut to the chase, Karyn,” he said evenly. “Talk to me about Steve…how you met and what he meant to you. I don’t have any idea what he was like.”

  “I want to go to bed with you. Not wallow in reminiscences.”

  “You’re a widow, for Pete’s sake! Why wouldn’t I ask about your husband?”

  She tilted her chin stubbornly. “I don’t want to—there’s no point. Rafe, we both know what happens when you and I get within ten feet of each other—and there’s nothing wrong with lust. But I’m not going to dress it up as something it isn’t. We can go to bed together and you can leave for England in the morning. Or we’ll sleep in separate rooms.”

  “You want us to make love and then act as though it never happened.”

  “That’s right.” Suddenly she reached out, laying her hand on his sleeve and speaking with passionate intensity. “I want to be naked in my bed with you naked beside me. I want to taste every inch of you, I want to be held, I want you inside me.” Her voice broke. “But that’s all I want—I can’t be any more honest than that.”

  His whole body felt as though it had been streaked with fire. He looked down at her slender fingers, feeling the pressure of her nails and imagining them digging into his bare back, the softness of her breasts against his chest, her long legs wrapped around his thighs. His heart was thudding against his rib cage. Wasn’t that what he wanted, too? Karyn, naked and willing in his arms? The whole night before them…

  With an effort that felt monumental, he pulled back. “But tomorrow you want me to get in my jet, fly back to England and stay there.”

  She nodded. “I’m on the pill, so I won’t get pregnant. There’ll be nothing to tie us together—and that’s just the way I want it.”

  He said flatly, “I’ve been insulted a few times in my life, but you take the cake.”

  “You’d rather we didn’t use protection?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t treat me like a one-night stand!”

  Her nostrils flared. “Sex without commitment—men have been doing it for years. But I’m not allowed to because I’m a woman?”

  “Clever, Karyn. This isn’t about equal rights—it’s about caring and intimacy.”

  “It’s about relationship. We don’t have one. I don’t want one.”

  “Then I’m not going near your bed. Now or ever.”

  “Fine!” she snapped, clutching her shoes to her chest. “Sleep well and don’t bother dropping in on me again.” Then she stalked across the room to the farthest bedroom and slammed the door. The lock turned with an aggressive click.

  Feeling as though he’d just done ten rounds with a champion heavyweight, Rafe left the bungalow and marched back to the lodge.

  A woman he lusted after had offered him a night in her bed and he’d turned her down flat.

  He was a fool. An idiot.

  Be damned if he’d make love with her all night and then fly home in the morning as though nothing had happened. He wasn’t going to be treated that way—discounted as though he could offer nothing but physical release. If that’s all she thought of him, to hell with her.

  Systematically Rafe went through the highly colorful stock of swearwords he’d learned in the many corners of the world. He didn’t feel one bit better afterward. He told himself Karyn was just a woman: pretty, sure; sexy undeniably; but replaceable. How long was it since he’d gone to bed with anyone? Too long, obviously.

  He’d be a fool to fall in love with her.

  So he wouldn’t.

  First thing tomorrow he’d tell the pilot to prepare for a transatlantic flight. There’d be no hanging around in Charlottetown.

  He’d soon find someone to settle down with, to be the mother of his children. He could advertise, Rafe thought cynically. They’d be flocking after him. Him and his fortune.

  Karyn didn’t care one whit about his money.

  Karyn didn’t care about him. Period. All she wanted to do was use him for her own ends and then cast him aside.

  She was honest about it, though, a little voice insinuated in his ear. After all, isn’t that how you’v
e been living your life for the last six years? Ever since Celine took your pride and trampled it on a Paris street?

  It wasn’t the same thing at all.

  No? Think about it, Rafe.

  Scowling, he crossed the lobby, heading straight for the bar. He sat down, got the bartender’s attention and ordered a brandy.

  When it came, he stared at it moodily. He didn’t want anything more to drink. Cupping the glass in his palm, he swirled the liquid around and around. Wasn’t that what he was doing—going around in circles?

  He was through with Karyn and her little games. He’d see her at Fiona’s wedding, and no doubt at the christenings that in due time would follow. But he could handle that. By then, he’d be married himself.

  “Buy me a drink?”

  His head swiveled around. A very pretty young woman in a black dress had slithered onto the stool next to his. Daughter of a CEO, he thought. No harm in her, out for a good time and she’d picked on him. So, he thought ironically, he’d been presented with Karyn’s replacement sooner than he’d expected.

  “Sorry,” he said, feeling old enough to be her father, “I’m not available. You should be careful who you come onto—not everyone’s harmless like me.”

  “You don’t look harmless.”

  He nodded at the bartender, tossed a bill on the counter and said crisply, “Serve the lady the drink of her choice and keep the change.” He gave her a cool smile. “Good night,” he said and strode out of the bar.

  I’m not available. That’s what he’d said.

  As he approached the bungalow, he stopped for a few minutes under the shadows of the beech trees. To be unavailable was to be committed. He was committed to Karyn, a woman of undoubted passion who’d freed his own deep needs.

  He didn’t understand what that commitment meant. But it wasn’t to be taken lightly.

  He’d bet Holden Castle and his beloved Stoneriggs that Karyn was afraid to fall in love again. She’d done so once, and lost the man she’d loved. Who could blame her if she didn’t want commitment? He himself had avoided it for years after Celine had dumped him.

  Why should Karyn be any different?

  Loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket, Rafe headed toward the bungalow. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A HALF-MOON silvered the trees and shrubbery, the lawns like a black carpet; except for a light in the hallway, the bungalow was in darkness. The soft plash of surf was the only sound. Rafe took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of newly mown grass and honeysuckle, laced with the tang of the sea.

  What he was about to do would have long-lasting repercussions, he thought soberly. He was more than ready to allow passion back into his life, he’d proved that to himself the last few days. But he wasn’t standing here in the dead of night just because he wanted to make love to Karyn. No, it was far more complex than that.

  He wanted more from Karyn, a lot more; and he was willing to give more. To let down his defences and allow her in. To hope that eventually, if he were patient, she’d surmount her grief and do the same for him. Where that would all lead, he had no idea. Trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, he walked up the path toward the front door.

  Somewhere inside the bungalow, Karyn screamed.

  For a split second Rafe stood like a man transfixed, a chill racing the length of his spine. Then she screamed again, a choked sound wild with terror.

  She’d locked her bedroom door. He couldn’t get in that way.

  He raced around the corner of the bungalow and in a great surge of relief saw that she’d left her bathroom window open. Leaping over the flowerbed, Rafe punched in the screen and levered himself over the sill. If someone was hurting her, he’d kill the bastard. Landing on his feet, he crossed the ceramic floor, not caring how much noise he made. The door to her bedroom was closed. He burst in, his fists at the ready.

  Karyn was alone in the room. Sprawled facedown on the bed, she was whimpering in her sleep, breathing hard as though she were running. Even as he watched, she flipped over on her back, her eyes tight shut, her face contorted in an agony of fear.

  Swiftly Rafe crossed the room and sat down on the bed. “Karyn, wake up—you’re having a bad dream,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and gently shaking her.

  Her eyes flew open, stark with terror. “Don’t come near me—go away!” She struck out at Rafe, frantically twisting her body as she tried to pull free.

  He said urgently, “It’s Rafe—you’re safe with me, Karyn…I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  He was still clasping her by the shoulders. She went very still in his hold. “Rafe?” she whispered.

  He pulled her to his chest. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “You were having a nightmare, that’s all.”

  She was trembling now, tiny shudders that lanced him to the heart. Stroking her back with all the tenderness at his command, he said, “Tell me about it, what was happening.”

  She burrowed her head into his sweater, her arms fastening around his ribs with desperate strength. She had to tell him; she could feel the words beating at her skull, desperate for release. “It’s always the same dream,” she faltered. “But this time it went further than it ever has. I was so frightened and—hold on to me, Rafe, please don’t let go.”

  “I won’t,” he said; and at a deep level knew the words for a vow. Binding and inevitable.

  “The dream’s about Steve. It’s always about Steve.”

  “About him drowning?”

  She shivered. “If only it were that simple…”

  “Tell me. It’ll help if you share it with me.”

  Would it? Karyn had no way of knowing. But she couldn’t bear to carry this load on her own any longer. “I—I’m running away from Steve, that’s how it always starts,” she gulped. “I’ve left him and I know I have to get away and hide somewhere or he’ll find me. Track me down like a hunted animal. It’s in a city, I don’t know where and it doesn’t matter. I’m running down these dark alleyways…there are men sleeping on the sidewalk, all bundled up in newspapers like so much garbage, and I jump over them and run for the next alley. The whole time I’m terrified out of my wits—I keep hearing footsteps behind me but when I look, there’s no one there. My lungs hurt and I can hardly breathe and I don’t know how much longer I can keep going. Then, finally, I come out into the open and see the river, the water smooth as oil.”

  Her breath hitched in her throat. “Steve’s standing there. His clothes are wet, still muddy from the river, and I realize he didn’t drown after all. He has a gun in his hand and he’s pointing it at my heart. Just as he’s squeezing the trigger—that’s when I usually wake up.”

  Rafe sat very still, listening with growing horror. A marriage was being revealed to him, a marriage the very opposite of the idyllic love match he’d pictured. He said neutrally, “What was different about the dream tonight?”

  “I couldn’t wake up. I was frozen, paralyzed, praying for release. Still holding the gun, he started walking toward me, taking his time, not saying a word because there was nothing he needed to say. We both knew I was powerless to stop him no matter what he did—that’s when you woke me up.”

  “Thank God I did wake you,” Rafe said harshly.

  Her arms tightened around him. “I—I don’t understand why you’re here.”

  “I went back to the lodge, cooled down and figured you were right—I was using a double standard about commitment, one for you and one for me. So I came to tell you so.”

  Her brain still flashing with nightmare images, Karyn could scarcely take in what he was saying. “Whatever the reason, thank heavens you came back.”

  She was holding him so hard he could scarcely breathe. Her nightgown was made of some slithery material that bared rather more than it covered; to his nostrils drifted the same sensually layered scent he remembered from their first kiss. He still wanted her. That was a given. But when had he last comforted a woman, held he
r with a tenderness that sought to make her burdens his own? Or listened to an outpouring of terror that had appalled him?

  Never, he thought. “Tell me about Steve, Karyn. What he was really like.”

  Wasn’t it time for her to break her vow of self-imposed silence? And who better to do that with than Rafe? “How did you get in my room?” she asked, trying to steady her breathing. “I locked the door.”

  “Through the screen in the bathroom window. It now has a big hole in it—I’ll have fun explaining that to the staff.”

  Her giggle had a slight edge of hysteria. “He-man stuff.”

  “I heard you scream,” Rafe said tersely. “I wasn’t going to hang around waiting for you to unlock the bedroom door.”

  “What if it’d been a burglar?”

  “I’d have flattened him first and asked questions afterward.”

  A little kernel of warmth curled around her heart. “I bet you would have…my throat feels kind of weird, I need a drink of water.”

  She was no longer trembling. Rafe eased back from her, smiling down at her in the semidarkness. “There are glasses in the kitchen, I’ll only be a minute.”

  Karyn nodded, watching as he got up from the bed and left her room: a tall, rangy man with black hair and a body that entranced her. She got up and went into the bathroom, her gaze riveted to the ripped screen. After closing and latching the window, she walked over to the sink. She looked like a ghost, she thought dispassionately, all big eyes and pale cheeks. Turning on the cold tap, she scrubbed at her face, wishing she could as easily scrub away the past.

  When she went back to the bedroom, Rafe was sitting on the bed, propped up against the pillows, looking very much at home. She took a long drink from the glass he held out to her and perched a couple of feet away from him on the mattress.