"Oh, you were Elizabeth Remington. Why, I've looked at my mother's yearbook dozens of times. But of course I never knew who you were," Kara exclaimed.
Elizabeth Jordan patted the young woman's hand. "I know how much your mother meant to you, Kara," she said gently. "She was a wonderful person. And I was just sick when I heard about the plane crash that took her and your father. We had lost track of each other soon after she got married, and I didn't even know that she had a daughter until yesterday."
Kara nodded numbly.
"I know she would have been so proud of you. Frank Adams tells me you're a public relations specialist. Did you know your mother had a promising career as a journalist before she got married? She made much better use of her education than I did. I got married right after graduation and had Matt ten months later."
Kara studied Mrs. Jordan. Here was a woman who seemed to know more about her mother than she herself did. Maybe this explained why she felt so comfortable and secure with Matt's mother.
"We'll have to reminisce sometime soon," Mrs. Jordan promised. "But right now I want to talk about you and Matt."
Kara felt herself growing tense. How could she talk to Matt's mother about the confusing swirl of events that had swept her up into this crazy marriage?
But Mrs. Jordan seemed unaware or unwilling to acknowledge her distress.
"My philosophy is that everything always turns out for the best, Kara. And even though this marriage had a rather unusual beginning, I'm sure that you and Matt will be able to work things out."
Kara shook her head. "I don't think Matt wants to work things out. He's difficult to understand."
"Well, I know my son," the older woman insisted. "I don't think he would have married you unless he wanted to. He's never let himself be railroaded into anything he was dead set against. And I know with my mother's instinct that you're not indifferent to him either."
Kara opened her mouth to deny this, but she couldn't find the words. She knew she was physically attracted to Matt—more attracted than she had been to any man before—but could it be more than that? And what about Matt? What did he really feel for her? She knew he wanted to take her to bed. But did he feel anything besides lust for her? she wondered.
"I know this is a difficult way for you to start married life, Kara," Mrs. Jordan told her. "It's going to be hard for you and hard for Matt too, because he's always been so independent. But if he had to get into this kind of situation, I'm glad it's with a girl like you. And I want you to know that I'm your friend, and I'll be here if you need me."
The women had become so absorbed in their conversation that they were not aware that Matt was standing in the doorway.
"Defecting to the enemy camp already, Mother?" he asked wryly.
At the sound of his voice Kara jumped. But Mrs. Jordan dismissed his remark with a smile.
"Nonsense, Matthew, there are no enemies here. Now why don't you show Kara around the farm for a little while and I'll see how brunch is coming. Maybe half an hour's walk around the estate in this gorgeous spring weather will perk up your appetites."
Mrs. Jordan got up and strode from the room, leaving Matt and Kara staring at each other warily.
It was he who finally broke the silence. "As you may have noticed," he said lightly, "Mother's word here at Windy Willow Farm is law. So let me show you around the place. We can start with the paddocks."
Matt led Kara through the sliding glass doors in the family room onto a huge patio covered with a yellow canvas awning. From there they took a winding flagstone path toward the paddocks.
"How many horses does your mother have?" Kara inquired.
"About thirty now, but we'll be selling half a dozen yearlings over the next few months. Quite a few of mother's horses have racing potential, you know. In fact, Maryland Dancer, who's running in the Preakness next month, was one of our foals."
"Does your mother train racing horses?" Kara asked with interest.
"No, she just raises them."
They stopped by a white fence to admire several young colts and fillies grazing inside.
"Too bad I didn't bring some sugar," Matt observed. "I guess I just don't come back here often enough anymore."
Kara glanced at her husband. He seemed so much more relaxed and approachable in this setting. Looking over at her he grinned and grabbed her hand.
"Let's go down to the barn. I used to work there every day after school helping Lew and his men."
He started off at a brisk walk. And Kara had to run to keep up with his long strides. As Matt pulled the heavy barn door open, the hinges squeaked protestingly.
"Can't understand why one of the hands hasn't fixed that," he observed, looking around the barn.
But there was no one inside and no horses in the spacious stalls. Matt led Kara to a ladder near one wall.
"Come on up to the hayloft," he invited playfully. "I used to fool around up here all the time when I didn't want to do my homework. But Lew always knew where to find me."
Kara looked doubtfully at the ladder. But Matt had already started to climb. If she stayed down on the ground he would probably think her a bad sport. So she grasped the wooden bars and began to climb.
When she got to the top of the ladder, Matt was waiting. He took her hand and helped her up through the opening in the ceiling.
"Let me show you the view," he urged. Releasing a latch on a trapdoor in the wall, he pulled it open to reveal a panoramic scene of the pastures below.
In her high-heeled boots, Kara found it hard to walk in the deep straw. As she moved toward the opening, the heel of her left foot caught in one of the rafters and she pitched forward.
Mart's arm shot out to catch her, but her weight sent him off balance and the two of them fell over into the soft, dry hay.
Kara sat up and started to brush herself off. "Your mother will think we've been tumbling up here," she giggled.
"That's not a bad idea," Matt drawled, pulling her back down against him in the soft bed of loose straw. No longer laughing, Kara tried to push him away. But the strong band of his arms only pulled her into a more intimate position.
"As long as we're going to be found guilty any-way, we might as well commit the crime," he murmured, his lips feathering light kisses on her face.
"No. What if somebody finds us here?" Kara argued. But Matt silenced her protest with a hard, demanding kiss. She felt her lips part as his tongue made daring exploration of her mouth.
Against her will a wild excitement was growing within her and she slid her arms around his waist, pulling her pliant body against his taut muscles. His lips were on her hair, her face, her neck, sending shivers up her spine. Then his hands tugged free her blouse from the waist band of her skirt. She felt strong fingers caressing the sensitive skin of her back, trailing little darts of pleasure across her flesh. Then, in one fluid motion, he had unhooked her bra. His hands slid around to the front to cup her breasts and her nipples hardened at his exploration.
"Oh, Matt," she moaned, lost in the swirl of overpowering sensations he was creating. His insistent hands and mouth were shaping her body to his will. She was under his control. He could do with her what he wished. All thoughts of the real reason for this marriage had been banished by his drugging caresses. The only thing that existed was this moment and a deep aching need within her.
From somewhere far away she heard the squeaking of hinges. At the sound Matt pulled away from her and sat up alertly. Below them, the voice of Lew McAlister drifted up toward the hayloft.
"I know you're up there Matt. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the first place you'd take Kara was where you used to initiate all your old girlfriends to farm life."
"Get lost, Lew," Matt rasped. "We'll be down in a minute."
Kara could hear Lew chuckling as he sauntered out. She sat up. The situation held no humor for her. Outrage flashed in her violet eyes.
"So, I'm just another one of your rolls in the hay," she accused vehemently, as she tr
ied to pull her clothing back in order.
Matt didn't answer.
"Lew has a really poor sense of timing," he observed, brushing hay from his own clothes. "Maybe he's forgotten we're on our honeymoon," he added.
"But I haven't forgotten why we got married," Kara shot back.
"Oh yes you did," her husband corrected. "Don't deny it. Your body told me you wanted me just as much as I wanted you."
Brusquely Kara turned away from him and started down the ladder. It was a somber pair of newlyweds who made their way back to the main house. But when they reached the side door, Matt put his hand on Kara's arm.
"There's a powder room right inside here," he gestured. "You can repair the damage to your appearance there."
Kara nodded, knowing full well she could never repair the damage her self-esteem had just suffered.
A few minutes later she joined Matt and Mrs. Jordan in the dining room. A sumptuous buffet of country ham, scrambled eggs, apple fritters, cinnamon buns and fresh strawberries was spread out on the sideboard along with silver pots of tea and coffee.
"I thought we could serve ourselves," Mrs. Jordan told Kara, "since I like to give the servants an early day on Sunday."
Kara watched Matt fill his plate and pour a cup of coffee. But she had lost her appetite and only took enough to be polite.
However, Mrs. Jordan seemed not to notice the strained atmosphere.
"I've been thinking," she said, when she had brought her own plate and cup to the table. "We should have a wedding reception for the two of you very soon."
"A wedding reception?" Kara was stunned.
"Why yes, my dear, there will be enough speculation about your marriage as it is. We must do things properly and introduce you to all our friends at a formal reception."
"Is that necessary, Mother?" Matt asked.
"Politically, I think it is," Mrs. Jordan assured him. "And besides, all our friends would feel very hurt if we don't have them over to meet Kara."
Matt nodded. "I suppose you're right," he agreed. "But we will have to find something suitable for Kara to wear."
Kara's violet eyes flashed. She was about to make a scathing retort to Matt, but he shot her a warning glance.
Mrs. Jordan leaped into the conversational breach.
"Now Matt, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with Kara's taste in clothing," she soothed. "Her wardrobe just doesn't reflect her new position." She turned to Kara and continued. "If you'd permit me, I'm sure it would be loads of fun for the two of us to go on a shopping trip to Bethesda together. I'd love to help you spend some of Matt's money at I. Magnin's and Bloomingdales."
Mrs. Jordan's smile was so warm that Kara found herself smiling in return.
"When do you want to go?" Kara asked.
"The sooner the better, my dear. How about tomorrow? I'll want to get the invitations printed for the reception, too. We can have it in, let's see, a week."
"A week? But that's so soon," Kara gasped.
"The sooner we introduce you as Matt's wife, the better it will be for his candidacy," Mrs. Jordan said reassuringly. Then she pushed back her chair and went to the sideboard for another cup of coffee. The subject was apparently closed.
Chapter Six
The next morning Mrs. Jordan's chauffeur-driven limousine deposited her and Kara at the main entrance of White Flint Mall. This was Kara's first visit to the posh three-story shopping center with its glass enclosed elevators and indoor gardens flanked by ceramic tile walkways.
She looked about her with interest at the enticing store displays featuring everything from expensive chess sets, with pieces decked out like lords and ladies at a medieval court, to antique oriental porcelain bowls, fine jewelry and designer lingerie.
"Would you like a cup of coffee and a croissant first?" Mrs. Jordan asked, steering Kara toward an indoor sidewalk cafe with old-fashioned wire frame chairs and brightly polished square copper table tops. "They have such marvelous blends here."
"That sounds terrific," Kara agreed enthusiastically, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I didn't have much for breakfast."
"I think I'll have the Viennese coffee," Mrs. Jordan told the waitress.
Kara selected a Mocha Java blend to drink with her buttery croissant. When the waitress had left, Mrs. Jordan turned to her daughter-in-law. "Now, it's really none of my business," she began. "But I did notice a certain strain in the relationship between you and Matt at brunch yesterday."
Flustered, Kara took a sip of her coffee and touched her lips with her napkin. How would she respond to the older woman's remark? Finally she said, "I'm having trouble sorting out my feelings toward Matt. One minute we're getting along fine. But the next minute, we're at each other's throats. I don't know how he really feels about our marriage."
Mrs. Jordan reached over and covered Kara's hand with her own. "I think I know how you feel, my dear," she sympathized. "Ever since Matt's father died, when he was ten, he's kept his emotions locked tightly inside himself. Even I often have trouble knowing what he's really feeling. And then there's Lew. He's had a lot to do with Matt's upbringing, because I felt he needed a strong man's hand. But maybe it was a bit too strong. Lew isn't one to display the tender emotions. But I think it's important to repeat what I said yesterday. Matt's his own man and he'd never let himself be trapped into a situation that he didn't really want. If he went to the extreme of marrying you, you must be special to him."
Kara looked at her mother-in-law doubtfully. "I wish I could really let myself believe you. But I feel so vulnerable," she murmured, shaking her head and setting down her coffee cup. "I just don't know whether or not our marriage has a future."
"I think that time will straighten things out," Mrs. Jordan reassured. "And the two of you have had so little time together."
Then she glanced at her watch. "But speaking of time, we are going to have to get on with the business at hand if we're going to meet Matt for an early dinner. Where shall we begin our shopping expedition?" she asked briskly, taking a last sip of coffee before putting down her cup. "I think I'll take you to see Joyce at this end of the mall first," she said, not waiting for an answer. "She always seems to have just what I'm looking for."
Mrs. Jordan's remark conjured up the image of a bustling, helpful saleslady. It in no way prepared Kara for the reality of Joyce, the haughtily sophisticated grande dame of one of Bethesda's most exclusive department store salons.
The salon itself was like nowhere else Kara had ever shopped. There were no displays of clothes or racks of dresses. Instead, Kara and Mrs. Jordan took their seats on red velvet-covered Victorian couches at one side of the elegantly decorated room. Overwhelmed by the atmosphere, the young woman glanced nervously at her mother-in-law. But Mrs. Jordan seemed in complete control of the situation.
"We need a complete wardrobe for my new daughter-in-law," she told Joyce. The tall angular woman, who was dressed in a silk designer suit with her hair swept into a French twist, listened attentively.
"We want to suggest a young, vibrant wife. Nothing too conservative. But not too flashy either," Mrs. Jordan went on.
Joyce eyed Kara speculatively, taking in her beige pants suit. "With your coloring you can wear either the pastels or the bright colors," she told the young woman. "But I think you'll have a more romantic image in the pastels. Let me go and make some selections."
A few minutes later Joyce, followed by a model, stepped through the curtained doorway at one side of the room. The model was wearing a light blue linen suit dress. Its simple lines bespoke its expensive price.
"Oh, that's lovely," Kara exclaimed. "But how much does it cost?"
"Now don't worry about that," Mrs. Jordan reassured her. "Matt can afford anything you want." She turned to Joyce. "We'll take that one," she told her. "And we'll want coordinating shoes and a bag, as well as at least three other daytime outfits." Kara blinked and held back another protest. If Matt wanted to spend a fortune decking her out as a politician's wife, why should
she object? she asked herself resignedly. In a few moments another model appeared, this time in a silk dress with a soft print of lavender and mauve flowers.
"Oh Kara, that's perfect for you," Mrs. Jordan enthused. "We'll take it."
The morning went quickly as Mrs. Jordan helped select what Kara thought was a complete wardrobe, with outfits for everything from tennis to evening dresses for a night at the opera. There were even sheer, sexy nightgowns that Kara was too embarrassed to protest she didn't need.
When Kara, exhausted by what was becoming for her an ordeal, finally glanced at her watch, she found it was almost lunch time.
Mrs. Jordan looked at her daughter-in-law sympathetically. "Shopping can be so tiring," she remarked. "We'll just have your measurements taken and arrange to have the altered garments sent to your house. Then we can have a light lunch."
After this business had been taken care of, Kara waited while her mother-in-law had a last word with Joyce. Then she followed the older woman up the escalator to the terrace level restaurant overlooking the main shopping promenade. They lunched on seafood salad and watched the bustling activity in the mall. Kara was grateful for a place to sit quietly. I'm glad that's over, she thought, taking a sip of iced tea. The new clothes were beautiful, but she felt a little as though she were being wrapped up in gold foil and delivered to Matt like a Christmas toy.
The idea amused her, almost making her laugh out loud. Smiling, she said to her mother-in-law, "I can't thank you enough for your help. I've never had so many stunning new outfits all at once in my life."
"But, my dear," Mrs. Jordan exclaimed in surprise. "We're only half finished. We can't leave without finding out what Bloomingdale's has to offer."
"Oh, no… of course not," Kara mumbled.
At the end of the meal, a messenger appeared from Joyce's salon with several boxes. Kara looked up in surprise.
"It's that first outfit we saw," Mrs. Jordan explained. "I asked them to hurry with it so you'd have something to wear this evening."
Love Is Elected Page 7
