by Sara Craven
When Karyn and Fiona eventually disentangled themselves, scrubbing at their wet cheeks, he said curtly, “You know, it might be as well if you both had DNA tests. That way you can show your parents irrefutable proof, Fiona. It could help get them off your back.”
“Good idea,” Karyn said warmly.
Fiona gaped at her. “You mean you would?”
“Of course.” Karyn spoke the simple truth. “I’d do anything for you, Fiona.”
More tears spilled from Fiona’s spectacular blue eyes. Which were, Karyn thought wryly, just like her own. She added, “We’ll do it today, if you like.”
“Why not?” Fiona said recklessly. She gave Karyn the full benefit of her smile. “I never knew I could be this brave. I actually yelled at my mother, can you believe it?”
“I’d love to have been a fly on the wall,” Rafe said.
“For once, I didn’t need you there—I managed fine on my own,” Fiona said. “Although I’m sure I’ll need your help when I go home today. Mother will have had time to replenish her arsenal, and as for Dad—” She gave a small shudder.
“I’ll look after your father,” Rafe announced.
Fiona looked back at Karyn. “If you can become a vet, I can do five days a week at the shelter.”
Karyn laughed. “If you can stand up to your parents, I can ask for a raise when I get home.”
“If you can ask for a raise, I can be late for dinner.”
They laced their arms together, giggling like two little girls. Rafe said dryly, “I’m not sure the world’s ready for you two. Let’s go find some good strong coffee, how about it?”
Karyn stood tall, knowing there was something she had to say. Her blue eyes steady, she said quietly, “Rafe, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. If it hadn’t been for you, Fiona and I would never have found each other.”
A lump in his throat, Rafe said huskily, “My pleasure.”
“It’s true,” Fiona quavered, and threw herself into his arms. “Thank you, thank you. I owe you so much already, and now this as well…you’re so good to me, Rafe.”
Karyn’s nails dug into her palms as Rafe’s arms went around Fiona’s waist; although again she had that illusory sense that the embrace was compounded more of companionship and gratitude than anything as basic as sex. But what did it matter? Either way, Fiona was in Rafe’s arms, where she belonged. Where Karyn never would. She looked away, her happiness stabbed by a shaft of pain so strong it appalled her. In a flash the implications of the last few minutes passed before her eyes. Rafe would be a part of her life from now on. Her sister’s lover. Maybe even her sister’s husband. Always there. Always out of reach.
So what, she thought fiercely. Rafe was nothing to her. Nothing. Nor was she going to allow him to ruin her new-found joy. Instead she should be happy for Fiona that she had such a strong protector in Rafe.
Steeling herself, she watched as Rafe’s hold loosened and Fiona stepped back. She was happy for Fiona. Of course she was.
Half an hour later, sitting at a table that overlooked a small mist-wreathed lake, Karyn’s resolve to be happy was severely tested. As they drank pungent Colombian coffee accompanied by sinfully rich pastries, Fiona said artlessly, “Where do we go from here? Literally, I mean.”
“Not to the inn in Droverton,” Karyn said. “I royally insulted the landlord before I left.”
“I can’t expose you to my parents right now,” Fiona said. “Even if they’d agree to have you at Willowbend, which I doubt.”
“Easy,” Rafe drawled. “The two of you can stay at Stoneriggs.”
“Wonderful!” Fiona exclaimed.
“No way,” Karyn gasped.
“You can have adjoining rooms in the east wing. Lots of horses to ride, Karyn, if that interests you.”
She loved to ride. “I scarcely know you, Rafe. I couldn’t possibly come and stay with you.” Expose herself to Rafe and Fiona’s love affair at close hand? Every nerve in her body screamed revolt.
“I could stable Sasha at Stoneriggs,” Fiona said eagerly. “Can you ride, Karyn?”
“Yes,” Karyn said grudgingly. “But—”
“Then that’s settled,” Fiona said. “If we went right now, I could collect Sasha and we could ride after lunch. We can swim in the pool every day, too. Oh, Karyn, it’ll be such fun!”
Karyn bit her lip. Short of stamping her feet and throwing a tantrum, she was trapped. “Just as long as you know I’ll have to go home in a few days,” she said.
“All the more reason to enjoy today,” Fiona said, and drained her coffee.
Stoneriggs, close up, took Karyn’s breath away. The house, its stonework dampened by mist, was so imposing, so exquisitely proportioned; the informal gardens such a riot of color and scent. The pool, the tennis courts, the moss-green lawns, all surrounded by the wildness of the fells: overwhelmed, she said softly, “It’s incredibly beautiful, Rafe.”
“The favorite of all my houses,” he said casually. “I’m here whenever I can be.”
Because of the house? Or because of Fiona? Quelling a shaft of pain, Karyn said, “I can see why.”
He then took them on a tour of the stables, where Karyn was reduced to an entranced silence. She walked into stall after stall, rubbing flanks glossy with health, murmuring endearments to each and every thoroughbred: mare, stallion and gelding; bay, chestnut and palomino. Wistfully she said, “You’ve got the horses in Heddingley beat by a country mile.”
“Fiona will help you pick your mount,” Rafe replied, his eyes trained on her enchanted face. “Why don’t we go inside so you can change? Then I’ll drive Fiona over to Willowbend to get Sasha.”
So he could be alone with Fiona for a few minutes. Karyn said brightly, “That sounds like a great idea.”
Inside, Rafe had opted for simplicity of décor. Off-white paint, the clean lines of Finnish and Swedish furniture, and polished oak parquet scattered with richly hued Persian carpets that even to Karyn’s uneducated eye screamed money. The few pieces of art had obviously been chosen with great care.
Of all this, Fiona would be mistress.
Feeling suddenly exhausted, craving solitude, she gripped the banister as she climbed the long curve of staircase to the second floor. Rafe said sharply, “Are you all right, Karyn?”
Hating him for seeing too much, she muttered, “Too much emotion, I guess.”
Fiona put an arm around her sister. “Why don’t you lie down for a few minutes? Rafe and I will take our time…it doesn’t matter if we don’t go riding until later. The mist’s supposed to clear sometime this afternoon.”
So within minutes Karyn was alone in her bedroom. As Rafe closed the door, her shoulders sagged with relief. She hadn’t anticipated the degree of strain it would cause her to be in his presence, on his home territory. Yet Stoneriggs was the logical place for her to stay.
She must make the best of it. Focus on Fiona, not Rafe.
Her bedroom was painted a soft apricot, with a thickpiled cream-colored carpet, silk draperies and delicate floral prints on the walls. The tall windows overlooked the rose garden; a frilly bouquet of peonies had been placed by the big bed. In which, of course, she would sleep alone.
Where would Fiona sleep? Next door? Or with Rafe?
Don’t go there, she scolded herself, throwing her jodphurs and shirt on the pretty armchair. Then she fell onto the bed and within moments was asleep.
A sleep that twelve hours later Karyn regretted.
It was now midnight. The mist had cleared; stars jittered in the sky and her body ached with tiredness. She and Fiona had had a wonderful ride among the crags of the moor; they’d swum in the pool, eaten gourmet French cuisine in the informal dining room that led onto a stone patio, and picked armloads of roses and honeysuckle for the lounge that they shared on the second floor. They’d laughed a lot and talked. Talked endlessly, trying to catch up on twenty-six lost years.
Every moment they spent together confirmed the unconscious bo
nds of twinship and their growing ease with each other, and for this Karyn was deeply grateful. She was also grateful for Rafe’s tact: most of the day he’d absented himself, as though he realized how important it was that the two sisters be alone to explore their new relationship.
And now she couldn’t go to sleep. Restlessly Karyn roamed up and down, her feet sinking into the carpet. Through the wall she could hear the small sounds of Fiona having a shower, then moving around her bedroom. A few moments later something dropped on the bathroom tiles. Karyn’s nerves fluttered. She stopped dead beside her bed, her ears straining. Wasn’t that the opening and closing of a door?
Feeling like a spy, yet unable to help herself, Karyn waited a few seconds, then very softly opened her own door. Fiona, in a long blue gown, was gliding down the hall. As Karyn watched, she turned the corner and disappeared.
Swiftly Karyn retreated. Why, oh why, couldn’t she have fallen asleep at eleven, when she and Fiona had said an emotional good-night out in the hallway? But no, she’d had to stay awake, and be given incontrovertible proof that Fiona and Rafe were lovers. No matter that their body language said otherwise. No matter that Rafe desired her, Karyn. Fiona was even now in Rafe’s bedroom, in his arms.
For the second time that day, tears flooded Karyn’s eyes. Leaning against the wall, she fought them back. She had to accept the hard truth of her sister’s relationship with Rafe. She had no other choice.
It was only Fiona who was important here, she thought fiercely. Not Rafe. She simply couldn’t afford to let Rafe ruin the growing bond between herself and her sister.
Oddly enough, as the days passed, Karyn was helped in this resolve by Rafe. He flew to Paris one day, to Prague another. He rarely rode with them, and never joined them in the pool, pleading the pressures of work. At mealtimes, he was a charming, witty conversationalist who might just as well have been a chance acquaintance.
Karyn should have been happy with this state of affairs. Instead, against all logic, she was infuriated.
On the fifth evening, she and Fiona couldn’t resist the flushed evening sky and went for a ride on the moors after dinner. When they got back, Karyn collapsed into one of the chairs on the patio, running her fingers through her tousled curls. “That was wonderful.”
Fiona sat down beside her. Taking off her hard hat, she said with unusual hesitancy, “Karyn, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you…”
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve talked about so much—but not about your husband. You never even mention his name.”
Karyn said shortly, “I don’t like talking about him.”
“I know it was only a year ago that he died…you must still miss him dreadfully.”
As Karyn leaned over to rub dust from her riding boots, mumbling an indistinct reply, Fiona persisted, “What did he look like? Was he a vet, too?”
“He was an accountant with an international firm. Tall, blond and handsome,” Karyn said with an attempt at lightness.
“You must have a photo of him?”
“I don’t need one,” Karyn said. “Fiona, I’m sorry. You mustn’t take this personally—I don’t talk about him to anyone.”
“I just hope he was good to you,” Fiona said fiercely. “My only standard of comparison is Rafe—I don’t know what I’d do without him, I depend on him for so much.” She sighed, tugging the ribbon from her braid and shaking out her long hair. “It only takes one look from Rafe and my father settles right down. Money talks, I suppose.”
“Then I’m very glad you’ve got Rafe,” Karyn said. She could have asked in just what capacity Fiona did have Rafe, for that, too, was a subject they’d never talked about. But didn’t she already know the answer? “I think it’s time for a shower.”
“Me, too. What a drag—it takes forever to wash my hair.” Fiona gave a wicked grin. “Maybe I’ll cut it short, like yours.”
“That’d get your mother’s goat.”
Karyn followed Fiona upstairs, going into her own room and staring out the window. Today Rafe had gone to London; she had no idea when he’d be back.
Restlessly she turned on the radio, wishing Fiona had never brought up the subject of Steve; even miles from home, memories of him had the power to disturb her. Then, as she looked around for the book she was reading, she realized she’d left it downstairs in the drawing room. Still dressed in her jodphurs, she headed for the back stairs.
Rafe was standing at the bottom of them. As her heart gave a great jolt in her chest, her socked foot slipped on the smooth wood. She stumbled, grabbed for the railing, missed it and fell forward, her knees banging against the next step. So fast she didn’t have time to think, Rafe charged up the stairs and put his arms around her; her face was jammed into his chest. “Are you okay?” he demanded. “Did you hurt yourself? Karyn, answer me!”
Her own arms had gone around him in sheer reflex. Beneath her palms, through the thin cotton of his shirt, Karyn could feel the taut planes of his back, the hard curve of his spine. His heart was pounding under her cheek; his breath stirred her hair. Wasn’t this closeness what she’d been desperate for? She wanted to stay here forever, she realized dazedly, and raised her head. “I—I’m fine. Silly of me to slip, I guess you startled me—I thought you were in London.”
“I came back early…” His voice died away. His gaze bored into hers as his hand rose to stroke a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers weren’t quite steady, each of them leaving a streak of fire on her skin. Unmasked, naked desire flared in his eyes, as vivid and dangerous as fire.
For the briefest of moments she yielded to that desire, her lashes drifting to her cheeks and her lips parting. Then, with a tiny sound of distress, Karyn shoved against Rafe’s chest. Almost simultaneously, he pushed her away as hard as he could. Losing her balance, she gripped the banister, and from somewhere dredged up the shadow of a smile. “It won’t help if we both fall down the stairs.”
He was shaking his head like a man who’d just been struck a crippling blow. Or a man waking from a dream and finding himself in a harsh reality not of his choosing. “Hell’s teeth,” he muttered, “I swore that wasn’t going to happen again.”
He surged to his feet, pulling her with him, then holding her by the shoulders a careful distance from his body. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Her left knee hurt abominably. “This is unbearable—whatever it is that happens when I get within ten feet of you,” she whispered. “Don’t bother denying it, I know it happens to you, too.”
“There’s no point in denying it. I’m pulled to you every time I see you, I can’t get you off my mind night or day—I wish to God we’d never met.”
Because of Fiona, she thought wretchedly. Fiona, whom she already loved, and had unwittingly betrayed once again in that brief embrace on the stairs.
But wasn’t there more, she thought with a sudden chill of her blood. Wasn’t Rafe’s charisma, his sheer sexuality, all too reminiscent of Steve? An icy hand clamped itself around her heart. Steve had swept her off her feet. Was she going to allow the exact same thing to happen again, this time with Rafe? “You can’t wish we’d never met any more strongly than I do,” she said in a stony voice.
“Okay, so we’ve got that much straight,” Rafe said harshly. “We wish we hadn’t met and we lust after each other. But we’re not going to do one damn thing about it. If you hadn’t fallen on the stairs, we—”
“So now it’s my fault?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it.”
“For God’s sake, Karyn, I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do! You think I like feeling this way every time I look at you? What’s between you and me is an aberration. It’ll pass. It’s got to.”
“Who are you trying to convince, myself or you?”
Her cheeks were pink with temper and her lips, those delectable lips, were pressed firmly together. “Both of us,” he said with a wintry smile.
&n
bsp; She said flatly, putting her suspicions into words, “There isn’t any chemistry between you and Fiona. Not one spark.”
“You let me worry about that,” he grated, dropping his hands to his sides as though contact with her was poisonous. “Where’s Fiona?”
“In the shower. She uses enough water for ten people, that’s one thing I’ve learned about her.” Recklessly Karyn pressed her point. “When you hug each other, it’s almost as though you’re brother and sister.”
“We’re the best of friends,” he snapped. “Have you got a problem with that?” How could she know? She’d assumed Steve was her friend as well as her lover, and had learned otherwise all too soon and with devastating consequences. Karyn bit her lip. “But if there isn’t any passion—”
“Passion’s overrated. I went that way once, and she ripped the heart from my body. So I swore off it. As for Fiona, she’s too innocent to know the difference.”
Karyn said raggedly, “What you feel for me—is that passion?”
His jaw tightened; he looked like a man being tormented. “There’s no point in even talking about it.”
He was right. But when he was standing so close to her that she could feel herself sinking into the dark blue of his irises, desire made nonsense of reason. Aching to touch him, longing to lift her lips to his and taste him, she burst out, “How can you be Fiona’s lover if there isn’t any passion between you? I just don’t understand how you can do that.”
“Her lover?” he repeated blankly. “What the hell do you mean?”
Karyn’s temper flared. “The usual. Two people who make love. In bed. What did you think I meant?”
“Fiona and I have never gone to bed together.”
“Rafe, I saw her going to your room one night.”
“Fiona hasn’t been anywhere near my bedroom.”
“Don’t lie to me! The way you kissed me that night under the trees, thinking I was Fiona—”
Clipping off each word, Rafe repeated, “I am not and never have been Fiona’s lover.”