The Reluctant Lark (17 page)

“I can walk,” she protested.

“I know,” Rand said soothingly. “I just like to hold you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sheena said. Her head fell contentedly on his shoulder. It seemed a perfectly appropriate answer. She liked to hold him, too.

Sheena was vaguely conscious of being placed on the crisp eyelet coverlet of the double bed in the master bedroom. Then Rand’s hands were busy loosening and removing her clothes. She heard him swear once as he
pulled at one stubborn cream boot, but then it was free, and she was left in peace for a time.

It was uncomfortably cool on the cotton bedspread, she thought crossly, so she turned on her side and huddled in a ball. She felt her body being moved as the covers on which she was lying were drawn back. Then a warm, strong body that was already endearingly familiar was in bed with her, and Rand folded her securely in his arms, sharing his warmth. He pulled the covers over both of them, his lips pressing lazy kisses on her temple.

“Go to sleep, love,” he whispered. “You’ve flown long and hard, it’s time to return to the nest.”

Sheena cuddled closer, her lips buried in the warm hollow of his throat. “Was I a lark tonight?” she asked drowsily, barely conscious of uttering the words.

Rand’s arm tightened around her. “Oh, yes,” he said with an odd huskiness in his voice. “God, yes. You were a magnificent lark, sweetheart.”

“Good,” she said contentedly, as she felt the warm throb of his pulse against her cheek lulling her into the comforting darkness of sleep.

The first movements were as gentle and soft as the fine Irish rain, and she sighed with contentment as she felt her thighs parted and Rand’s magical hands caressing and toying with the very heart of her. He was infinitely slow and easy, not demanding anything of her but her submission. She was almost asleep again when she felt him enter her with painstaking carefulness, his warm hardness stretching and filling her with the urgency of his need.

She opened her eyes slowly and made a little sound that reflected both her surprise and contentment. Rand was bending over her, an expression of almost glazed intentness on his face. At her exclamation, he looked down at her with a smile that took her breath away with its loving tenderness.

“Shh,” he crooned softly. “Just relax, love. I’ll do it all.” He lowered his lips to kiss her with fairylike
lightness. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but I found I couldn’t go to sleep without returning to
my
nest.” He made a movement with his hips that caused her to catch her breath and was more than self-explanatory.

Then with a delicacy that Rand had never before shown her in their wild, almost desperate lovemaking, he began to move. Each thrust was as easy and gentle as the first, and she gradually relaxed and obeyed his instructions and left it up to him. She was halfway between waking and sleep, and it was deliciously sensual to be moved and stroked and praised while Rand took his own pleasure with her body.

But suddenly it wasn’t enough. Sheena began to move against him with a frantic urgency that caused him to clutch her to him in a wild flurry of passion that erupted into a feverish climax.

“Sweet lovely lark,” he said afterward, as he tucked the sheet around her and settled her possessively in his embrace. He was Stroking her satin back with a soothing gentleness, and she felt his lashes oddly wet against her cheek. “
My
lark.”

She nodded drowsily and went peacefully back to sleep.

The noon sun was streaming through the frilly eyelet curtains when Sheena next opened her eyes. She was vaguely conscious of an uneasy sensation of loneliness, of something not as it should be. Then she realized that she was no longer wrapped in Rand’s arms, which had held her so tightly through the night. She looked in sudden panic at the pillow next to hers, but only a slight indentation recalled his presence. She sat upright, then groaned aloud as she felt pains shooting through her head. Her hands went to her temples, and she rubbed them ruefully. So much for her confidence that she could hold her drinks, she thought wryly. What was that odd term Rand had used? Oh, yes, white lightning.

Her discomfort and sense of desertion were partially dispelled when she noticed the open bedroom door and heard the muffled sound of water running through the pipes. Rand must be in the shower, she realized, with a ridiculous sense of relief. She leaned back on the pillow and allowed herself to relax.

How foolish to fly into a panic just because Rand had not been there when she awoke, she thought. She had opened her eyes every day of her twenty-two years to a world with no Rand Challon. Yet it had taken only two days for her to realize how empty and meaningless her future would be without him beside her every morning.

Her gaze traveled lazily about the room, finding it just as pleasant as she had thought the previous afternoon. It was not nearly as luxurious as Rand’s cabin in Canada, but it had a simple hominess that was enhanced by the polished oak floors and the slightly worn blue wing chair in the far corner of the room. The only furniture besides the double bed was the maple chest of drawers beside the door and a small matching bedside table.

It was as her eyes were glancing carelessly at the bedside table that her attention was caught by the glass of water with the white card with her name scrawled in bold black letters propped against it. Directly below it was a pretty white plastic compact with gold embossing on it, and she reached over and picked it up curiously. It must be a gift from Rand, but this cheap, trinket was not the type of present that Challon would choose, she thought in puzzlement.

It was only when she flipped open the lid that she understood. She stared blankly at the rows of tiny pink pills arranged in neat circles, and color swiftly flooded her face. She uttered a low, involuntary moan of distress. The shock was like a blow when she realized the cold, cynical message inherent in Rand’s gift of the pills.

She shook her head dazedly as she swung her legs to the side of the bed and stood up. The pill. She had been so involved in the sheer sensual ecstasy of Rand’s
lovemaking that she had not given a thought to the possible ramifications. It seemed that Rand had not been similarly carried away, she thought numbly, and she hurriedly pulled on jeans and a white oxford cloth shirt. He had obviously wanted to protect himself from the possible results of their union.

She felt a chill of desolation sweep over her as she carelessly slipped on a pair of loafers and ran from the room and down the stairs without even taking a comb to her hair.

She ran down the porch steps and started walking blindly, her emotions in a confused turmoil. She didn’t know herself why Rand’s rejection of a possible child by her filled her with such pain. She knew their relationship might be an ephemeral one at best. She herself had told Rand that she would leave at the first opportunity. It was only reasonable that he would not want to take any chances that a pregnancy might result from a brief affair. Her mind could accept Challon’s reasoning, but her emotions recoiled with an instinctive revulsion at the cool emotionlessness of Rand’s action.

She walked for a long time, not even noticing the heat of the strong afternoon sun on her uncovered head or the distance that she’d wandered from the house. It was only when she happened on a small inviting pond surrounded by huge weeping willows that she realized how hot and tired she’d become. It was such a lovely, peaceful spot, she thought, as she sat down in the long grass bordering the bank. The water in the pond was deep green, and there were white water lilies floating on its dark surface like perfect jewels in a velvet display case. The weeping willows’ profusion of lacy fronds trailed the ground and danced gracefully with every vagrant breeze.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting the warm sun bathe her in its soothing balm and relax the tension that was gripping her. She sat there for a long time, listening to the whoosh of the breeze through
the willows and the soft, throaty sound of the birds. She deliberately blocked out the unhappy thoughts that were rioting through her mind and disturbing the serenity of the moment and strove to enjoy the beauty around her.

Presently, tempted by the hot sun and the solitude, she stripped off her clothes and entered the emerald water of the pond. The water was cold and silky against her hot flesh, and she remained there longer than she had intended. She swam lazily among the water-lily pads, then dreamily floated and watched the reflection of the willow fronds on the water.

When she reluctantly climbed back on the bank, the sun was a good deal lower in the sky. It took very little time for the sun to dry the excess moisture from her body, and then she leisurely donned her jeans and shirt. She stretched out on the bank to run her fingers through her wet, curly mop and allowed the sun to dry it quickly into a wild, glossy aureole about her head.

“Isn’t that just like a woman. We’re scouring the countryside for you, and you’re out taking a sunbath.”

Sheena sat up, startled. Nick O’Brien was sitting indolently on the back of a tall black stallion, perhaps ten yards away. One jean-clad leg was crossed casually over the pommel as he looked down at her, a grin on his face. He was wearing a bright blue shirt that deepened his aquamarine eyes to almost turquoise.

Sheena was abruptly conscious of her tousled hair and the revealing way her blouse was clinging to her still moist skin. “I’m not sunbathing,” she protested. “I was just sitting here thinking.”

He shook his head reprovingly, then took his leg from the pommel and slid from the saddle. “Meanwhile, Rand has been going crazy looking for you.” He tossed the reins over the horse’s head. “He was planning on calling out all the hands from Crescent Creek if we hadn’t found you by sundown.” He took a rifle from the holster on the saddle and fired three shots in rapid succession before replacing it in the holster.

“What was that all about?” Sheena asked, her dark eyes wide with surprise.

“Just a signal to let Rand know where we are.” Nick strolled over to her and sat down beside her on the grass. He crossed his legs Indian fashion. “Now we wait. He should be here soon. He’s searching the south quadrant.”

“I’m sorry to have put you to this unnecessary trouble,” Sheena said politely. “I was in no danger.”

O’Brien gave her a long, skeptical look. “I think that we both know that Rand wasn’t worried about any physical danger to you. He thought you had run away from him.”

Sheena felt the swift color rise to her cheeks. “I guess that means that he told you about his little kidnapping scheme,” she said, not looking at him. “I suppose you won’t help me, either. I’ve never known anyone to have so many willing accomplices.”

“That should tell you something about the man,” he said quietly. “Is it likely that he could inspire such loyalty if he wasn’t a damn decent human being?”

“Oh, I just don’t know,” Sheena said despairingly, running her hand through her hair. “I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore, or who to trust.”

“That’s easy,” O’Brien said, his gaze fixed gravely on her face. “Trust Rand, you’ll never regret it.”

“You’re very loyal to him. Rand said you would be.”

“We’ve been through a few tough spots together. When the chips are down, you get to know who your friends are.” He plucked a long strand of grass and chewed it thoughtfully. “I guess Rand told you that I’m something of a freak,” he said slowly. There was something lost and lonely in the depths of his eyes.

Sheena felt a surge of sympathy that was almost maternal. “He told me that you were something of a genius,” she said gently.

His lips curved cynically. “One term is as good as another. I was having some pretty heavy adjustment
problems when Rand appeared on the scene two years ago. He helped me get my head together, and I owe him a hell of a debt.”

“I can see how you would feel that way,” Sheena said quietly. “I believe in the payment of debts, too. That’s one of the problems.”

“So I understand,” O’Brien said. “But if Rand has an objection, you can be damn sure it’s a valid one. Like I said, trust him, Sheena.”

“You’re wasting your breath, Nick,” Challon said harshly. “The lady prefers her comfortable little cocoon. She’s not about to try thinking for herself.”

O’Brien and Sheena both turned startled eyes to the grim figure on the chestnut mare. In beige suede pants and tan-and-cream-checked shirt, Rand looked a study in browns against the shiny coat of the horse. They had been so engrossed in their conversation, they had not been aware of Rand’s approach.

Challon dismounted swiftly, flipped the reins over the horse’s head, and strode toward them, bitterness and determination in every line of his powerful body. His lion eyes were flickering with anger as he looked down at them. Sheena instinctively made an involuntary movement of withdrawal, and Rand’s lips tightened to a hard line as he noticed the gesture.

“You can go back to the ranch now, Nick,” he said tersely. “I’ll take over from here.”

O’Brien stood up slowly, his eyes on Challon’s stony face. “Simmer down, Rand,” he said quietly. “She’s all mixed up. She didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Didn’t she?” Rand asked. “Then Sheena seems to have an amazing talent for putting me through hell. Stay out of it, Nick.”

O’Brien shrugged. “Whatever you say. It’s your affair.” He sauntered over to the black stallion and mounted lithely.

“Exactly,” Challon said grimly, glancing down at Sheena. “I’m glad you understand that.”

“I’ll be at Crescent Creek if you need me,” Nick said, then wheeled the black. He looked over his shoulder, a glint of mischief shimmering in his eyes. “I believe I just may stick around for a while. Things are beginning to get interesting.” Then with a mocking wave of his hand, he kicked the stallion into a gallop.

Challon turned immediately back to Sheena and looked down at her with profound displeasure. “I see that you’ve managed to catch Nick in the snare of those big black eyes,” he snapped irritably. “I’ve never seen him so protective where a woman’s concerned.”

Sheena had been sitting back on her heels in a half kneeling position, but now she started to struggle to her feet. “He’s a very good friend to you,” she commented quietly. “And I have no need of his protection. I can take care of myself.”