Starlight

by Debbie Macomber

  A soft sigh slipped from her as she slid her arms around his neck. The thin piece of silk that was wrapped around her fell aimlessly to the floor.

  “Karen,” he groaned as his lips searched and found hers. She yielded to the urgency and clung to him, her smooth skin pressing against his muscular body. His touch was capable of drawing her strength as she responded to the intensity of his lovemaking. She was surprised by her abandonment as they came together again. They were caught in a whirlwind of spiraling sensations that hurled them upward to unscalable heights, then released them gently until they floated back to the reality of being in each other’s arms.

  They didn’t speak; words would only diminish the wonder. Karen rested against him, and her cheek lay on his chest while he smoothed the tangles from her hair.

  “I love you, Karen Prescott,” he murmured softly; his voice contained a reverent note, as if he understood a love as deep as theirs could have been ordained only from above.

  A loud ring roused Karen from the depths of sleep, but instead of reacting to the persistent peals, she incorporated them into her dream. Drawn naturally to the warmth beside her, she snuggled against Rand, folding her arms over his lean ribs. It was Rand’s groggy “Hello” that brought her into reality.

  Morning. Sunlight streamed into the window between a small crack in the drapery. With something akin to wonder, Karen marveled that she should be here with Rand, that they were man and wife, and that their love was secure and complete.

  Unable to resist, she ran her fingers teasingly over his back. Rand shifted positions and sat upright. The telephone conversation continued, but it was distinctly a one-sided dialogue. All Rand murmured was “Yes,” “good,” “fine,” “okay.”

  It must be Cora, Karen mused, and stiffened when Rand issued an invitation for dinner that evening. The woman wouldn’t accept defeat easily, and an uncomfortable chill ran through Karen.

  When Rand replaced the receiver, Karen slid her arms around his middle. “Good morning, Mr. Prescott,” she whispered tenderly.

  Rand turned, looping his arms around her, his face buried in the softness of her hair. “Good morning, Mrs. Prescott.”

  Tipping her head back, she gently stroked his chin and guided his mouth to hers to kiss him with a lingering warmth.

  The hall clock chimed, reminding them it was well into morning.

  “It would be easy to spend the whole day making love to my wife, but we’re expecting company for dinner.”

  “Yes, I heard. What time is she coming?” A heavy sigh slipped from Karen. She didn’t want this wonderful day to be ruined by Cora.

  “She?” Rand’s brow twisted dubiously.

  “Wasn’t that Cora on the phone?”

  His mouth compressed into a taut line. “No, that was your father. He’s coming to make sure his little girl is a happy bride. Believe me, the invitation for dinner was issued grudgingly.”

  “Dad?” Karen’s thoughts raced furiously. “You mean that was my father on the phone?” she asked again in disbelief.

  “Matthew McAlister, the blackmailer himself, is entering the lion’s den.”

  Karen’s face grew serious as she studied Rand sitting on the end of the bed. The initial rush of pleasure at waking with Rand at her side quickly faded. She went to him, holding his head against her abdomen, stroking the hair from his face. “I want us to talk to Dad tonight.” Her voice was sober. “Perhaps then you will believe me. Your trust is important to me.”

  Gently, he pushed her away as if her nearness disturbed his resolve. When he stood, his back was facing her. The silence hung heavy between them until Rand spoke, his voice somber, quiet. “No, there’s no need to discuss our situation with your father. He would naturally deny you had any part in the marriage trap. Trying to make me believe your innocence is all part of the game. I’m not a fool, nor am I stupid. You’re my wife now, but I think it would be better if we never mentioned how we came into this marriage. Doing so would only bring bitterness between us. Is that understood, Karen?” He turned around, his face proud and strong.

  She searched but could find no words to answer him.

  “But, Rand, please …”

  “Karen”—his tone was stern—“you do yourself more harm than good by insisting you’re innocent. Now, I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “All right,” she murmured tightly. “We won’t speak of it again.”

  Rand didn’t want to argue; Karen could see it in his face as it relaxed, his look almost gentle. “Now, how about fixing me breakfast? I’m starved.”

  Karen swallowed the tightness lodged in her throat. “Starved?” she returned, forcing herself to shrug off the hurt. “My dear husband, you’ve been feasting all night.” She tried to sound gay and lighthearted, but the word husband nearly stuck in her throat.

  As their relationship stood now, she was little more than a glorified mistress. She yearned to satisfy far more than his physical desires; she wanted to share his joys, his burdens, the everyday rituals of life that make a wife a wife. Rand wouldn’t accept that from her yet. Not until she’d proven herself, had earned his faith and trust. There was little he would accept from her other than the delights her body could give him. For now, she must be content with that. Did her father have any conception of the hellish situation he had cast her into? she wondered wearily.

  “I have been feasting all night.” Rand’s words broke into her thoughts. “But I fear having you once is like drinking salt water. I’ll never be satisfied.” His arms slid around her waist, his mouth seeking the gentle curve of her neck. “But for right now,” he murmured thickly, “I was referring to something more basic, like bacon and eggs.”

  Karen snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. If Rand’s desire for her was only physical, she would accept that. In time, she would be able to tear down the bitter walls he’d erected against her. Eventually, under the determined onslaught of her love, he would be her husband, and she would be his trusted, cherished wife.

  “Bacon and eggs?” She sighed, feigning disappointment. “And I was prepared to satisfy another hearty appetite …” She wasn’t allowed to finish the sentence.

  With a laugh, Rand lifted her from the carpet and placed her on the bed, his fingers eagerly searching for the opening of her gown. The unexpected action took her breath away. Before she could object, his mouth greedily claimed hers. When his head lifted from hers, Karen gave a weak protest. “Rand, I was only teasing.”

  “Don’t act so outraged, my love. You did offer to satisfy my appetites,” he murmured before planting another hungry kiss on her open mouth.

  Karen responded fully to his passion, moving her body against him provocatively …

  It was a long time before either of them entered the kitchen.

  They spent a portion of the day arranging Karen’s things around the house so Rand knew their whereabouts. He had a complicated system regarding the placement of his clothes and personal items. It showed Karen again the difficulties he encountered with partial eyesight and reminded her never to leave her things lying around. In his home, it was difficult to remember that he had limited vision. His knowledge of the house and everything in it was complete. The old saying “a place for everything and everything in its place” certainly applied to the system Rand employed.

  Karen was arranging her small collection of ballerina figures on the living-room bookcase when Rand spoke. “Karen,” he said with a faint huskiness.

  Her cheeks were flushed with a warm glow of satisfaction as she turned around. “Yes?”

  “We forgot something last night.”

  “Impossible.” She laughed lightly and circled her arms around his middle, tipping her head back to study his face. His smile was warm and sensuous; his eyes glowed with a happiness she knew came from her love. It was a heady realization that the love they shared could change so much in each of them.

  Because of Rand, Karen saw life with clear, more revealing eyes. She
found herself ready to listen to others the way Rand listened. She was willing to look beyond pretense with business associates and acquaintances.

  With Rand, there had been a definite softening. He was more relaxed and not as apt to erect the angry façade he had worn when they first met. Even his iron-clad will had shown signs of a willingness to compromise.

  “We forgot your wedding ring.” Rand withdrew it from his pocket. It lay in the palm of his hand. The solitaire diamond slid to his fingertips, and he manipulated it as if his hands were familiar with its feel.

  Karen glanced at her naked left hand. She didn’t need a wedding band to say she was his wife. Ring or no ring, she would always belong to him.

  “Karen.” His voice was low and earnest. “I want more than a weekend marriage. I want you for a lifetime.” He took her hand, his fingers caressing hers until he singled out the ring finger. With a tenderness that was almost reverent, he slid the ring on.

  “I’ll love you all my life, Karen Prescott,” he whispered, as if it was a vow.

  Instinctively, Karen’s arms slid over his shoulders as she brought his mouth to hers. As their lips met, Karen felt him shudder as he buried his face in the dark curls that fell over her shoulder.

  Later, they sauntered hand in hand over the grounds, talking and teasing. Following the trail, they strolled to the creek and back.

  “Would you mind if I went back to work?” she quizzed, watching Rand’s face. It was a question that had troubled Karen. Her own feelings were mixed; her mother had never worked outside the home, but Karen was sure she’d quickly find herself growing bored without the challenge of a job. Being a housewife would mean a drastic change in her lifestyle, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to make the adjustment.

  Rand shrugged. “That’s entirely up to you. In my opinion, you were foolish to quit. Did you think I would demand your presence day and night?”

  Karen stiffened defensively. “I quit because I was leaving Tacoma. I know you don’t believe that, but it happens to be the truth.”

  His hand squeezed hers as if he wanted to punish her. “I thought we’d agreed to leave well enough alone? As for you returning to your job, I really don’t care. My hours are long, and I’m often not home until late. You might do well to have some outside interests.”

  Karen bit back the hurt, wishing she’d never asked Rand’s opinion.

  The sun was setting, leaving a red glow on the horizon, when Matthew arrived, bringing flowers and a bottle of wine. Karen answered the door hesitantly, unsure how she’d greet her father; her feelings were mixed and ambivalent. She was grateful Rand was still in the shower.

  “ ’Tis a sad day when a father is forced to beg an invitation to his own daughter’s,” he announced gruffly, handing her his gifts.

  “ ’Tis a sadder day when said daughter’s honeymoon is interrupted,” Karen chided in return.

  He hugged her close, and when he spoke again, there was an odd ring in his voice.

  “I’ve missed you, lass.” He studied her intently for a long, sober minute.

  Two days before, Karen would have ranted at her father, called him an interfering old fool. His impudence had cast her into a sea of misunderstandings, creating an almost insurmountable lack of trust between husband and wife. Instead, she gently kissed his weathered cheek. “I’ve missed you too, Dad.”

  Matthew watched his daughter closely. “Are you happy, lass?” he asked with concern. His eyes held a troubled light, as if he were seeking far more than his words implied. Approval? Forgiveness? Praise? Condemnation?

  Matthew’s face looked wan and drawn, as if he’d been under a great deal of stress, as he well might have been, wondering about Rand and Karen. Seeing the question in his eyes, she couldn’t berate him. “I’m happy, Dad.”

  “Rand?” His eyes wavered from hers.

  “In time,” she offered gently.

  Matthew grinned as if relieved of a burdensome load. “Didn’t I tell you things had a way of working out for the best?” he said, chuckling.

  “I think you should repeat that for Rand’s benefit,” she teased lovingly.

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?” Rand entered the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower, his smile welcoming.

  Karen gave a grateful sigh. She wasn’t sure how Rand would react to her father. That morning, he’d made it clear he didn’t wish to confront Matthew with the details of the marriage, but Karen feared he might harbor some resentment against her father.

  “Welcome to our home, Matthew,” Rand greeted, and the two men shook hands, an unspoken understanding between them.

  Matthew relaxed and started checking under the lids of the pots bubbling on the stove top. “When’s dinner?”

  “Not until our other guest arrives,” Karen said, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Other guest?” Matthew quizzed.

  Rand’s brow wrinkled in question, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Yes, Dad. Rand invited the Widow Jackson.”

  Matthew’s grin was wry until all three broke into hearty laughter.

  While Karen placed the serving dishes on the table, she could hear Rand and her father laughing and joking together in the living room. She paused, watching them; her heart swelled with love for these two men. It was a relief beyond words that Rand showed no open hostility toward her father.

  The lighthearted banter continued through dinner, and afterward, Rand challenged Matthew to a game of chess. Nothing could have pleased Karen’s father more, and the board was soon set.

  As before, Rand played the game entirely from memory. Karen moved the figures on his command, amazed how he could keep track of every move in his mind.

  Matthew was an excellent player, and Rand a worthy opponent; the game dragged on, the skill of the two men evenly matched. Karen wasn’t surprised when Rand won.

  Matthew shook his head disbelievingly, moving the figures around the board, studying Rand’s strategy.

  Her eyes gleaming with pride, Karen turned and gave her husband a congratulatory hug.

  “Well done, Prescott,” Matthew said, but his eyes continued to study the board. “I accept defeat from you a second time, but want the chance to redeem myself.”

  With a lazy smile, Rand promised a rematch at a later date. Matthew left a short time later, and with a yawn, Karen closed and locked the front door behind him. Rand welcomed her into his arms with a smile.

  “It’s getting late,” she whispered invitingly. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt and teased his chest with light strokes before she wound her arms around his neck and drew his mouth down to hers.

  Rand’s lips moved hungrily over hers as he pressed her tightly against him until he shuddered with desire. “What is it about you?” he whispered thickly. “I’ll never get enough of you, will I? Fifty years from now, I’ll still be panting with desire for you.” He led her purposefully toward their bedroom. Karen followed willingly but stopped at the doorway of one of the spare bedrooms, examining the room.

  “This room will make a lovely nursery. What do you think, Rand?”

  He stopped and became suddenly very still, his mouth drawn in a taut line. “I think there’s something you’d better understand right now. There will be no children as a result of our marriage.”

  A shocked silence followed his announcement. Karen stared at him disbelievingly. “No children? But why?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Karen, think about it,” he said bitterly. “I’m in no position to be any kind of father. Nor do I want children; they’re an encumbrance I can live without.”

  “You’re being unfair.”

  “Unfair?” He gave a short, derisive laugh. “You’re a fine one to talk. If it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have had a wife, either. If you want to talk about unfair, then we can talk about you and your father.”

  The cruel words struck her harder than any blow. “But, Rand …” she pleaded, then halted. A brooding scowl darkened his face, and Karen knew him
well enough to recognize that arguing was useless.

  “You got what you wanted, Karen. We’re married, but from here on, I make the decisions, and there will be no children. I don’t ever want to discuss the subject again. The matter is closed.” His tone was emphatic and hard as he strode away angrily, leaving her standing speechless in the hall.

  An ache began to grow within her heart. She was married to Rand, a dream she believed would fulfill her every desire. But the deep womanly need to bear his child would be denied her. How easy it was to picture a dark-haired baby boy; Karen shook her head to cast the picture from her mind. Silently, she walked into their bedroom.

  Rand was sitting at the end of their bed, bent forward, his face in his hands. He straightened when he heard her enter. “Karen, listen, it’s bad enough having a wife I’ll never see. I won’t endure the same agony with a child.” A hand moved wearily across his face. “Trust me in this. I know what you’re feeling, but give us a chance. Together we’ll build a good life; we don’t need anything else.”

  Pictures of James and Carter flashed through her mind; she knew the love she felt for her two nephews was only a fraction of the emotion she would experience for her own child. She looked away; the searing, raw disappointment left an aching void in her heart. Gently, she went to him and traced the determined line of his jaw.

  “Shall I take the precautions, or will you?” she asked in a tortured whisper.

  Nine

  “Karen?”

  Faintly, she could hear Rand’s call and carefully rolled from the bed. But when she attempted to straighten, her muscles knotted in protest.

  “I’m coming,” she called, stopping to rub the small of her back. When she limped down the hall from their bedroom, she could hear Carl’s worried voice.

  “All day she was out there. Wouldn’t let me help; said I had enough to do without adding a garden to the list. Your missus is going to be real sore, mark my words. Real sore.”