Love Is Elected

by Alyssa Howard

  His unexpected kindness unleashed the tears Kara had fought so bravely to hold back. She sobbed helplessly against his shoulder. But Matt Jordan lifted her chin and looked down into her clouded eyes. "Okay?" he inquired softly. All Kara could do was nod and look away from his steady gaze.

  He led her to the door of the bedroom. "You need to relax for a while. Why don't you lie down and rest until the justice of the peace arrives," he told her. She nodded again, went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Images flashed before her—Matt Jordan's handsome face and her uncle's look of agitation, the tree branch in the ceiling of her bedroom, the catlike eyes of the redheaded reporter. But she couldn't get them in focus. One merged into another and it was impossible to interpret any one of them accurately. As the pictures whirled through her mind, she grew dizzy and sat down heavily on the quilt-covered bed.

  It seemed like only a few minutes before Matt was rapping firmly on the door and then leading her out into the main room of the cabin where everyone stood waiting.

  They were married in front of the big stone fireplace. The justice of the peace, a small, bespectacled man with thinning sandy hair, cast curious, surreptitious glances at the blue-jeaned couple standing dazedly before him.

  "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" he read from a printed sheet of paper, frowning slightly and looking up questioningly at Matt. "To honor in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

  "I do," Matt replied in a steady voice.

  The official then turned to the distracted Kara and repeated the question. There was a long pause while she stared wildly at the man's bewildered face. She had never felt so alone. She cast a desperate look at her bridegroom who nodded reassuringly back at her. From the other side of her Kara could feel her uncle silently willing her to say "yes." Even the slender blonde who hovered at Uncle James' side seemed to be allied against her. The tension was more than she could bear as all eyes focused on her.

  "I do," she whispered in a dull voice. And then it was all over. There was an almost audible sigh of relief as the tension dissipated in the room.

  "Repeat after me, 'With this ring I thee wed'," the official hurried on. Kara hadn't thought about the ring. What, she wondered, would Matt Jordan use? But he seemed unconcerned as he turned toward her, drew a fine garnet ring from his pocket and slipped it over Kara's slender finger. It fit perfectly, and Kara felt an involuntary twinge of pleasure as she looked down at the jewel sparkling on her hand. How would he have found time to rush down into the village and purchase it? she wondered. She smiled up at him as he leaned over to kiss her warmly on the mouth. Her spirits lifted despite herself.

  "By the power vested in me by the state of Maryland," continued the justice of the peace, "I declare you husband and wife." Kara and Matt Jordan embraced once again and Uncle James, wiping his brow in relief, pecked Kara on the cheek.

  "That's a good girl," he whispered to the new bride. "We'll straighten this mess out later."

  As Uncle James stepped back, the blonde moved forward and said, "Congratulations." She embraced Kara in a formal hug. The new bride received the woman's attentions stiffly.

  "Thank you," she muttered in reply, trying to make her gratitude sound genuine. But it was difficult for her to conceal the feelings of disapproval she had toward the woman who must be Uncle James' latest playmate.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kara saw her uncle slip the justice a crisp $100 bill. Then the little man hurried out the door.

  Turning to Matt, she looked shyly up at the tall, handsome figure at her side. "The ring is beautiful," she murmured. "However did you find the time to pick it out for me? And how did you know my ring size?" She looked up at him in surprised admiration.

  "I didn't," he confessed casually. "And the ring size was just luck. The ring belongs to Monica, who was kind enough to lend it to us for the wedding. You'd better return it to her now. We'll get you something of your own later."

  Kara felt herself going cold. Quickly she stripped the ring off her finger and thrust it into Monica's outstretched hand. "That was thoughtful of you," Kara said through gritted teeth.

  "Oh, it was nothing," the cool blonde replied, slipping the gem back on her well-manicured finger.

  To Kara the ring that she had momentarily treasured seemed now a symbol of this whole farce of a marriage. It was nothing but a sham. She stared bleakly at her bare ring finger and wondered what lay ahead.

  Chapter Four

  Kara sank down into the black leather bucket seat of Matt's silver gray Porsche. She half-listened to the low throb of the powerful engine as her new husband expertly swung out of the cabin's drive and headed the shiny sportscar toward Washington, D.C.

  Behind them, Uncle James' black Lincoln Continental turned off in the opposite direction toward the village. He and his companion were speeding away to file the pre-dated marriage papers at the County Courthouse and speak to the caretaker about cutting up the fallen tree and repairing the damage to the roof.

  As Kara and Matt flew past rolling green hills, weathered barns and silos, and pastures full of grazing cows, Matt began enumerating the tasks that had to be done before the day's end. But when he told her in an assured voice that they would first stop at her apartment to get some of her clothes before going to his town house in Columbia, Kara sat up straight and glared at him in outrage.

  "Surely you don't think I'm going to move in with you?" she protested. "Why, I hardly know you. I thought this marriage was only going to be a show for your campaign. Nobody said we actually had to live together." She shot an angry look at his handsome profile.

  Matt's mouth twisted in a grimace of sardonic amusement. "It will be a show all right," he conceded. "But if we start the opening act of our marriage by living in different cities, the press will treat it like a circus sideshow. You wouldn't want that would you?" he asked her with a derisive glint in his steely gray eyes.

  "I don't care about the press. I'm not sleeping with you," she insisted, continuing to stare stubbornly at him.

  "I've been told I'm a perfectly congenial bed-partner," he remarked as he swung the car smoothly around a sharp turn. "I don't snore, I don't hog the blankets. And I'm fun to snuggle with on a cold night," he teased. "But if you're determined to sleep alone, there are two guest bedrooms in my town house. You'd better lock your doors, though," he warned with a laugh, "because I've been known to sleepwalk."

  Kara tried to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, but it broke out despite her efforts. She had to admit he was right. It would look suspicious if they started the marriage living apart.

  "All right," she grudgingly agreed. "But remember, I'm not sharing your bed!"

  "Okay," he said without emotion. "The spare bedroom is yours."

  Kara sighed. At least the ground rules were understood. Feeling less tense, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the deep upholstery. The day was not yet half over and already she was exhausted.

  Forty-five minutes later she awoke with a start. The Porsche had come to an abrupt stop in front of the aging brick town house in Georgetown where she shared a tiny apartment with Jill Sanders. The familiarity of her surroundings made the day's events seem even more bizarre. How was she going to explain Matt Jordan to her inquisitive roommate? she wondered nervously.

  As Kara climbed the narrow front steps while Matt locked the car door, she hurriedly tried to frame an explanation of the unannounced marriage. But before she could think of anything the varnished wood front door was flung open and Kara almost collided with a hastily exiting Jill.

  "Oh Kara, I've been hoping you'd come back before I left," her roommate declared breathlessly. "You've gotten a couple of phone messages and oh, by the way, you'll be glad to hear that Wayne stopped by. He said to tell you yesterday was all a mistake. He wants to have dinner with you tonight— to talk," she added, giving Kara a meaningful wink. "He'll be…" Jill stopped midsentence as she noticed the tall, c
ommanding presence of Matt Jordan who had climbed the steps and laid a heavy, possessive hand on Kara's slim shoulder.

  "Oh," Jill gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. "I didn't realize…"

  "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Matt Jordan, Kara's husband," he announced. "Kara and I were married yesterday and she won't be keeping that appointment with the gentleman you mentioned." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he eyed Kara's astonished roommate coldly.

  Jill's mouth dropped open while she searched vainly for a response. But all she could get out were flustered congratulations mixed with quizzical stares at her friend. Kara received Jill's confused congratulations woodenly. She didn't know what to say.

  "Well, I have to be going. I was on my way to a meeting," her friend stammered. She stared blankly at Kara for a moment and then leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. Kara seized this opportunity to whisper in Jill's ear.

  "It's all right. I'll call you later and explain."

  But even as she said the words, Kara found herself wondering how she could possibly explain any of this.

  As soon as Jill disappeared down the brick-paved sidewalk, the newlyweds stepped inside Kara's tiny, neatly appointed apartment. Closing the door, Matt swept the living room with an appraising glance. Despite its small size it was elegantly and expensively furnished. On the floor a magnificent Chinese rug with gold and ivory design caught his eye. And around the room fine antiques upholstered in shades of blue and gold were set off by the polished sheen of mahogany Queen Anne tables and a Sheraton desk.

  Quizzically, Matt raised a dark eyebrow. "This isn't a typical struggling young career girl's apartment. How do you afford such luxury?"

  Kara stiffened and shot him an angry look. "The furniture happens to have belonged to my parents," she countered.

  Matt shrugged, his eyes resting thoughtfully on a blue velvet loveseat. "Well, they certainly had good taste," he conceded. "But there's hardly room to turn around here. Where do you entertain this Wayne when your roommate's at home?" he baited, giving her a cold, level stare. "Or do you take him directly to your bedroom? I've heard that's where you Washington career girls do a lot of your entertaining."

  "Well, you should know," she shot back, remembering the intimate remarks that had passed between her husband and Vera Caldwell. "But I'm not in the habit of entertaining men in bed, and that includes you." She cast him a defiant glare and marched purposefully into her room where she yanked clothes from closets and drawers.

  As she began to fold and stuff underwear into her large blue suitcase, a new concern presented itself.

  On Monday she had to be in the office at nine o'clock. So much had happened that she'd forgotten momentarily about her job. But it was important to her and she didn't want to lose it. She dropped the slips she was holding into the open suitcase and went to the doorway where she confronted Matt once more. He was sprawled on the loveseat and looked totally at home. For some reason this made her even more irritated.

  "What about my job?" she demanded. "I need to be back here Monday morning for work and my car is still in Frederick."

  "Your car is being delivered to my town house. But don't worry about work," he drawled. "This is our honeymoon, remember? Your boss is a friend of mine, so I'm sure if I tell him the situation, he'll give you a temporary leave of absence."

  Kara began to protest, "But I have a lot to do. I've started a big project…"

  "Listen, I'm not without influence. I'll call Harry Simpson right now," he said, moving assuredly toward the phone. "Everything will be okay."

  As Matt located her boss' telephone number in the D.C. directory and confidently began to dial the number, Kara again had the sensation of being swept away on a tide of events. She seemed to have no control over her life anymore. Decisions concerning her were now being made by others. She felt like a helpless, abandoned child. Not since her parents' death had she felt so much at the mercy of strangers. Her shoulders drooping, she turned back to her bedroom to complete her haphazard packing.

  Minutes later Matt had finished his call and joined her in the bedroom.

  "Well, that's all settled," he remarked brusquely. "You have at least a two-week leave of absence. And we can probably extend that if it's necessary." He bent down and effortlessly swung her heavy suitcases up from the floor.

  "Let's get out of here," he commanded, turning toward the door. "We've got a lot to do yet." Kara followed helplessly behind him, casting a hasty farewell glance at her apartment before he closed the door firmly behind her.

  On the drive north to Matt's town house in Columbia, they stopped for sandwiches at a deli. Matt, his brow furrowed in concentration, made no attempt at conversation. And Kara felt too de-pressed and beaten to attempt any more verbal sallies. But as they approached the entrance to the new city of Columbia, Matt looked at her inquiringly.

  "Is this your first time here?" he asked.

  "I've heard of it," she admitted, beginning to look around with interest, "but I've never been here." They were entering from the south. Trees lined the road on either side and handsome modern buildings swung into view.

  "This is the downtown area," Matt explained. "You can't see it, but there's a man-made lake behind there," he pointed out.

  "It's so spacious-looking for a downtown," Kara remarked, gazing around at the wide green lawns interspersed with patches of natural woods and beds of red and yellow tulips and daffodils. The whole effect was bright and clean, and Kara found herself admiring the new city that would be her temporary home.

  A few minutes later Matt turned into a narrow drive leading to a small semicircle of starkly contemporary white town houses overlooking another lake.

  "This is where we live," Matt commented smoothly, emphasizing the we.

  "You mean this is where you live and where I'll be visiting," she retorted. His mouth tightened, and he gave her a dark, enigmatic look.

  "Have it your way," he replied at last. "But I think you'll like it here." While he took her luggage out of the trunk, she opened the door and stepped out. Staring up at the elegant town house, she was suddenly afraid. Where would she spend the night? she wondered, and what kind of a night would it be?

  But before she had an opportunity to ponder this question, she heard car doors open behind them, and shouts of "Mr. Jordan, Mrs. Jordan," greeted her ears.

  Turning in surprise, she caught sight of a mass of reporters scrambling to get pictures and interviews with the newlywed couple. Cameras were clicking and grinding, and questions filled the air. As the reporters vied for her and Mart's attention, Kara looked wildly for an escape route. But Matt handled the situation expertly. Raising one hand, he called for silence.

  "I'll answer all your questions inside," he said smoothly, "as soon as I've had an opportunity to get rid of these suitcases." Then Matt, looking cool and collected, headed toward the front door, Kara in tow, while the reporters followed behind.

  When he'd opened the door and set the luggage inside, a voice cried out, "Aren't you going to carry the bride over the threshold?"

  While the other reporters joined in the request, Matt gave Kara a hooded glance. A half-smile quirked the corners of his firm lips. In the next instant he had scooped her up and carried her into the spacious, high-ceilinged living room overlooking the lake.

  "Welcome home, Mrs. Jordan," he whispered into her burning ears as he held her tightly. Then, setting her down on the polished parquet floor, he turned to meet the newsmen.

  Cameras were grinding while reporters shot a barrage of questions at the candidate. Feeling nervous and foolish, Kara forced a tight smile while she listened to her husband field each volley like the practiced politician he was. Half an hour later he ushered the crowd of satisfied journalists out. The moment the door closed Kara collapsed on the couch and Matt settled his lean frame down beside her.

  "I don't know how you endure this," Kara muttered, forcing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "It's like living in a fishbowl."


  Matt leaned back on the couch and stretched his long legs. "It'll get worse before it gets better," he commented philosophically. "I'm a public servant and so I have to make myself available to the media. You can see why it's so important that my life be free of any hint of scandal just now."

  Kara made a face and turned her head from him. "Yes, your image is so important that you don't care who you trample on to protect it. I've certainly learned that in the last few hours."

  Matt was silent, seeming to turn her criticism over in his mind. He was preparing to say something to her when an antique grandfather clock in the corner chimed the half hour, distracting him.

  "Heavens, it's four-thirty," he cried, clapping a hand on his forehead. "I've got to call my mother and tell her about this before she hears it on the six o'clock news!" He jumped up and strode toward his study adjoining the living room. As he disappeared behind the door, he tossed over his shoulder, "Why don't you amuse yourself by having a look around while I'm trying to explain this situation to her. You can unpack while you're at it, too."

  "Not until I've found the guest bedroom," Kara retorted. But he had already shut the door and left her alone. She stood up and walked to the center of the large, airy room. Through the sliding glass doors she could see a balcony, and beyond it the lake glittering in the late afternoon sun. The two sets of doors flanked a dramatic fireplace wall. Brown leather chairs and a Scandinavian area rug were arranged in a conversational grouping around the fireplace. A chrome and leather couch sat directly in front, facing a glass coffee table. A few prized antiques were mixed with the modern furniture to produce a pleasingly eclectic effect.

  From there Kara drifted through the well-equipped kitchen and then up the stairs toward the bedrooms. A brown and white tweed carpet muffled her steps as she made her way to the second floor. Once in the hall, she peered through an open door on the right. She was obviously looking into the master bedroom. A huge king-size bed covered with a brown suede quilt dominated the large, skylit room. To one side stood a massive, mahogany dresser. Opposite, there was an armoire. An off-white shag rug covered the polished wood floor. Kara stood taking it all in for a moment and then turned quickly away. She had no intention of spending time in this particular room.