The Reluctant Lark

by Iris Johansen

  “I think we both know that you can’t keep me here indefinitely,” she said quietly, not looking at him. “I’ve told you that I have obligations that must be met. Why can’t you just let me go?”

  “No!” the answer came with almost menacing ruthlessness. “I may not be able to keep you forever, but it will be long enough. You’re not experienced enough to know that sexual encounters like the one we had tonight can be quite addictive. Give me another month with you, and you won’t be able to do without your fix.”

  “And what if I refuse to submit to your lovemaking?” Sheena asked coolly. “You can hardly develop a habit if you don’t indulge.”

  His lips twisted cynically. “I don’t think I need worry about that. You’re a very passionate lady, Sheena.” One lazy hand reached out to caress her breast through the cover, and her nipple hardened in response. Rand mockingly arched one sandy brow. “You see?” he asked softly. “You’re ready for me again, aren’t you, dove?”

  “No,” she protested, moistening her lips nervously.

  “Yes,” he said, pulling her with hard sureness back into his arms. “And I’m ready for you.” With one swift movement, he stripped the spread away from her nude body. His face took on a glazed absorption as he looked down at her. “I’ll always be ready for you.”

  He bent his head slowly and kissed her with a hot, lingering sweetness. It was only an instant later that her arms slid slowly over his shoulders and around his neck to pull him closer to her with the same desperate urgency that she sensed in him. She knew that she would always be ready for him, too.

  “Come on, sleepyhead, you look entirely too enticing lying there. If you don’t get up, I’m going to crawl back in bed with you, and we don’t have time for what would follow.”

  Sheena lifted heavy lids to stare, with drowsy contentment, at Rand’s amused face. He looked so beautiful, she thought sleepily, reaching out a hand to stroke the tawny pelt of hair on his bronze chest. It was slightly damp, and she vaguely realized that he was just out of the shower. He had only a white towel wrapped around his hips as he sat on the side of the bed, and his sun-bleached hair was darkened by the wetting to a shade close to its original tan.

  Her caressing hand was caught firmly by his and raised to his lips for a lingering kiss. “And none of your beguiling little tricks, dove. I won’t be seduced this morning, no matter what the temptation. We have to get moving.”

  “You called me lark last night,” Sheena said dreamily, hearing only the first sentence. Despite the mock sternness of his expression, she had little doubt that she could persuade Rand to change his mind once she could bestir herself to make the effort. No persuasion was really necessary on either side, she thought. They were as combustible together as a runaway forest fire. She couldn’t remember how many times they had come together during the night in the passionate fusion that had been just as world-shaking as that first time. Rand had uncovered depths of sensuality in her that she had never known existed. She found herself not only responding but aggressively initiating their loveplay until sheer exhaustion caused them to fall asleep in each other’s arms like two weary children.

  “Last night you were a lark,” Rand said softly, his gaze running tenderly over her swollen pink lips and the radiant bloom on her cheeks. “You spread your golden wings and took off right for the sun.”

  “Yet this morning I’m delegated back to the rank of dove,” she said lightly.

  There was an odd flicker in the depths of Rand’s eyes, and his lips tightened. “You’ve got to earn your wings, Sheena. Nothing comes free in this world, not even the knowledge of self. You can’t remain wrapped in a protective cocoon all your life. You’ve got to come out in the real world with the rest of us.”

  “You’re suddenly very serious,” she said nervously, not looking at him. There was a ruthlessness in his words that had abruptly shattered her sense of well being. “I thought I had dealt with a greater amount of unpleasant reality than most people.”

  He shook his head. “You didn’t deal with it. You experienced it, and then you ran to your uncle like a child afraid of the dark and let him tell you what you should be feeling.” Wearily he ran his hand through his tawny hair. “The hell of it was that you were only a child at the time. How could anyone expect you to do anything else?”

  Sheena slowly sat up and tucked the sheet around her. “I suppose I should be grateful for your understanding,” she said caustically. “It’s easy to stand back and be objective if you’re not involved. It’s a bit different if it’s happening to you.”

  Rand’s expression softened as his hand stroked her tousled curls. “I know, little dove. I’m probably being a bit of a bastard to you. It’s just that I get so damned impatient. I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about marrying me?”

  Sheena shook her head stubbornly. “Don’t you see that it’s not possible right now?” she asked, her dark eyes bright with tears. “Would it be so unreasonable to give me the time I ask of you?”

  Rand’s expression was serious. “More unreasonable than you know, dove,” he said quietly. “So it seems that we’re back to square one.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind, either,” Sheena said. It was a statement, not a question. She had known the night before that Rand’s iron determination would not be shaken by any arguments she could muster.

  “Why should I?” Rand asked mockingly. “The second stage of your captivity promises to be even more exciting than the first. Who knows? Now that some of my frustrations have been pacified, we may even reach a more harmonious mental rapport as well.” His hand moved from her hair to strike her cheek with an almost sensuous enjoyment. “Besides, I’ve only begun getting you hooked on the world’s greatest sport. You’re going to need quite a few more injections before I’ll be satisfied that you’re a full-fledged addict.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss, then rose reluctantly to his feet. “Now, move woman! We’re running late already.”

  “Late?” Sheena asked bewilderedly, her eyes going to the clock on the bedside table. “It’s barely eight o’clock. Why are we running late?”

  “We’re closing up the cabin and flying out of here in approximately forty-five minutes,” he said briskly. “While you shower, I’ll finish dressing and turn off the generator. John should have the jet on the approach right now.”

  Sheena clutched at the sheet, her eyes widening with surprise. “But where are we going?” she asked. “And why are we in such a hurry?”

  “We’re going home,” he said simply. Then his lips twisted wryly. “Well, almost home. I can’t take you to Crescent Creek while you’re still a nominal prisoner, so we’ll be going to an adjoining property that I’ve recently acquired. It’s quite a nice little ranch. Well be very cozy there.” He was walking toward the door as he continued, “I was actually planning on taking you away from here, anyway. Knowleton told me yesterday that I should get you to a warmer climate so that you could rid yourself of that nagging little cough. You just accelerated things a bit by causing me to throw Donna out of here without assuring her silence. This isn’t a safe place for you now; we’ll have to leave at once. I told John yesterday before he took off that he was to return this morning to pick us up.”

  He turned at the door, his golden eyes lit with sudden mischief. “If you’re a very good girl and don’t keep me waiting, I just may let you persuade me to initiate you into the mile-high club that I mentioned.”

  He closed the door softly behind him, leaving her to stare after him in befuddled amazement.

  Seven

  The wave of dry heat struck Sheena like a blow as the door of the jet was opened and the steps were lowered at the private landing strip at Crescent Creek. From the air, the runway and hangar had looked as if they had been dropped in the middle of nowhere, and when she had commented on the fact to Rand, he had explained that his private airport was located some twenty-five miles from the main residence and outbuildings.

  “I leave a few secur
ity men and mechanics on duty at all times,” he had added. “But I’ve found that isolating the strip is the only way to maintain the degree of privacy that I require at the ranch.” He smiled grimly. “It’s my own early warning system.”

  Since she was aware of the seclusion of the strip, it came as no surprise to see a sturdy Renegade jeep parked at the edge of the tarmac a short distance away. But the driver of the vehicle obviously awaiting their arrival was another matter entirely. The young man leaning indolently against the fender of the canary yellow jeep straightened slowly as Rand swung her down from the steps and they started across the tarmac.

  “Great heavens!” Sheena said, startled. “Can the man be real?”

  “Oh, he’s real all right,” Challon replied. “I think Nick must have seen a John Wayne movie when he was a kid, and he’s been afraid of disappointing the lady tourists with less than the real thing ever since. I didn’t realize that he’d be the one to meet us, or I would have warned you about Nick O’Brien. He takes a little getting used to.” In spite of the ambiguous words, there was a note of warm affection in Challon’s voice that caused Sheena to look with even greater interest at the colorful figure by the jeep.

  Nick O’Brien was an incredibly handsome man in his twenties of obvious Latin extraction. His gleaming dark hair was worn a trifle long and trendily styled. His features had the aristocratic definity of a modern-day Montezuma, and his eyes were a startling aquamarine that fairly crackled with vitality and good spirits.

  It was not his dazzling good looks that amazed her so much as his outfit. A stunning red shirt was teamed with a black leather vest for the maximum dramatic effect. And his black jeans were surely the tightest she had ever seen. The denim material molded his powerful thighs and calves with a detailed closeness that was almost indecent. His black boots were polished to a mirrorlike shine, and glittering silver spurs complimented the silver Indian belt encircling his narrow waist.

  “He’s quite—unusual,” Sheena said faintly, her eyes fixed in fascination on O’Brien’s arresting figure. “O’Brien? He doesn’t look at all Irish.”

  “He’s part Irish, part Mexican, and part pure devil. So don’t think you’ve found a soulmate in Nick, no matter how charming you may find him. He’s as dangerous as a high explosive.”

  “Yet you’re very fond of him,” Sheena said thoughtfully. “Does he work for you?”

  “When he’s in the mood,” Rand answered, shrugging. “I never know when he’s going to show up. His father is chairman of the board of O’Brien Computers, and Nick is rich as Croesus in his own right. When it amuses him to play cowboy, he pays me a little visit. Then, when boredom sets in, he’s gone like a will-o’-the-wisp.”

  “He’s something of a playboy then?” Sheena asked. He certainly looked the role, and she was certain those virile good looks must be magnetically attractive to the opposite sex.

  “Because of his low boredom threshhold?” Challon shook his head. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid. How old do you think Nick is?”

  “He looks to be about twenty-five,” Sheena estimated, wondering what on earth that had to do with anything.

  “He’s twenty-four. And it may interest you to know that he has a doctorate in both electrical engineering and computer sciences, and can speak and write seven languages.

  “But that’s impossible!”

  “I’m glad you realize that,” Rand drawled, his golden eyes twinkling. “It will better enable you to understand him. Nick is impossible. He’s a genius on the same scale as Einstein. Besides having an IQ that runs right off the scale, he has a photographic memory that permits perfect recall. Do you wonder that he gets bored and restless fairly easily?”

  “No, I guess not. I always thought geniuses were pale little men with stooped shoulders and horn-rimmed glasses.”

  “Nick’s degree of intelligence together with determination allows him to do pretty near anything well. I first ran into Nick in a dive in Algiers three years ago. I was having a spot of trouble with an Arab guide and his friends, who wanted to liberate me from my wallet. Nick joined in the free-for-all, and let me tell you, I was damn glad to have him at my back. He’s as good at barroom brawling as he is at developing new computer languages.”

  They had almost reached the jeep, and O’Brien stepped forward, his smile flashing brilliantly in his tanned face. “Howdy, boss,” he drawled, sticking out his hand in greeting to Challon. “Welcome back to the old homestead.”

  Rand shook his hand before saying dryly, “You can cut the Randolph Scott bit, Nick. I’ve already tipped your hand to Sheena. What are you doing here, anyway? The last I heard, you were in Las Vegas working out a formula to break the system. Did you finally meet your Waterloo?”

  O’Brien grinned. “Nope. It took a bit of research, but I finally found the key. After that it was all downhill. Unfortunately, a large delegation of the casino owners weren’t exactly happy with my accomplishment. I was requested most forcefully to leave.”

  Rand shook his head ruefully. “You’re lucky you didn’t get killed. Don’t you ever get tired of taking chances?”

  O’Brien shrugged carelessly. “It’s one way of knowing you’re alive.” His flashing aquamarine eyes were suddenly dancing. “It’s just as well that I decided not to make a stand. When I arrived at Crescent Creek, it was only to find that my old buddy had taken off for parts unknown. I’d have been in a hell of a mess if I’d relied on you to back me this time. As it was, I’ve been bored as the devil waiting for you to get back.”

  “I rather imagine you’ve kept yourself busy,” Rand said dryly. “How many hands has my foreman put on the sick list this time because of that damned restlessness?”

  “Only a few,” O’Brien said absently, his eyes now on Sheena. She felt suddenly uncomfortably naked as she met that piercing gaze. It turned out that she had reason for her uneasiness, for he said slowly, “Sheena Reardon, Ireland’s Mournful Dove. Rand has pictures of you in his study.”

  Sheena sighed in exasperation. “It seems that everyone in the world must know about those photographs,” she said crossly. “I should really hire the man as my publicist.”

  Rand’s arm slid around her waist as he said soothingly, “It’s not as bad as all that, dove. I guess I should have expected Nick to remember. He’s never commented on them, so I really thought he hadn’t noticed.” He turned to the younger man. “I suppose that I’d better introduce you formally. Sheena Reardon, this imp of satan is Nick O’Brien, hired hand extraordinaire.”

  O’Brien bowed with a graceful panache, his grin flashing warmly. “I’m delighted to meet you, lovely lady. I can see now why Rand decided to become incommunicado if you were anywhere in the vicinity.”

  Sheena smiled at O’Brien’s gallantry. She didn’t feel in the least lovely in the jeans and rumpled red plaid shirt she was wearing, but he almost made her believe in his blarney. “Thank you. I’m very glad to meet you, too, Mr. O’Brien.”

  “Nick,” he corrected, grinning. “You mustn’t be too formal with the hired help. It makes us uppity.”

  “He’s right,” Rand said, grimacing. “Nick’s arrogant enough without encouragement.” Placing his hands on Sheena’s waist, he lifted her up into the jeep. “Did Jesse get the Crawfords moved off the Triple X property?”

  “All was done as you commanded, sire,” O’Brien said mockingly. He climbed into the driver’s seat and put the jeep in gear. Rand barely had time to jump into the seat beside Sheena before the vehicle took off like a bucking bronco over the rough, rutted road. Sheena instinctively grabbed Rand by the arm as the jeep sped over the ground at a dizzying pace. “Not that there wasn’t a good deal of speculation at the ranch over your instructions,” O’Brien shouted cheerfully, over the roar, of the motor. “I even admit to a touch of curiosity as to the reason why you would move your manager and his wife out of their residence along with the entire crew and install them at Crescent Creek instead.” His aquamarine eyes shot them a flas
hing, sidelong glance. “It’s a very interesting puzzle.”

  Rand’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “And you never could resist a puzzle, could you, Nick?” he asked.

  “No, I never could,” O’Brien replied, grinning mischievously. “My mental processes are inherently geared toward problem solving, but don’t give me a hint, let me figure it out for myself.”

  “I fully intend to do just that,” Rand said coolly, putting an arm possessively around Sheena’s shoulders. “Enjoy yourself, Nick.”

  “I will,” O’Brien assured him, as his booted foot gunned the accelerator to even greater speed. “I will.”

  It seemed mere minutes before the jeep left the stark, flat terrain behind and was traversing country that gradually took on a lush greenness. Though the country was nothing like the soft, misty fields of Ireland, it had a strong, serene beauty that Sheena found very pleasing.

  The ranch house and outbuildings were equally pleasing, Sheena thought, as the jeep finally roared past the corral and came to a screeching stop before a small white clapboard house, whose roomy front porch sported a cozy, cushioned swing.

  “Here we are,” O’Brien announced. He shut off the engine and leaned both arms on the steering wheel. “I think I beat my last speed record on the way here by four minutes.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Rand said dryly, as he stepped down from the jeep and swung Sheena to the ground. “Remind me to fasten our seat belts next time.”

  “You’re getting old, Rand,” O’Brien scoffed. “I don’t suppose you’re going to invite me into the house for a drink?”

  “That’s right,” Rand returned genially. “Why don’t you get the hell out of here?”