Deceptive Love (18 page)

If the truth be told, until she looked at the program at the intermission she had no idea what selections had been performed. It could have been a jug and bottle band playing for all the attention she gave it. Dain loved her. He wanted to marry her. No music in the world, even were it sung by full angelic chorus, could compete with that fact.

They shared a glass of wine at the break, draining the last of the bottle Dain had brought. Keri also fed Dain fudge squares until he sighed, satiated. "Do you think you'll be able to hold out until breakfast, darling?" she asked him solicitously. "I think there's one more hard- boiled egg. You could tuck it under your pillow tonight for a midnight snack."

"Hush, woman. I'm building up my inner resources. I'm sure marriage must require a lot of strength, especially marriage to you."

"Is that a compliment?" she asked suspiciously.

"Ask me again on our wedding night," he whispered, "or better yet, the next morning." He lifted her hand to his mouth and she felt the tip of his tongue caressing the center of her sensitive palm. Fortunately the interval was over and the concert started again. Keri's breathing returned to what passed for normal sometime during the second piece.

They were in no hurry to reach the car, or to join the line of cars snaking out of the parking lot amid slow motion clouds of dust. Their stroll back to the parked car was delayed whenever Keri stopped to admire the star- sprinkled sky or when Dain stopped Keri to give her a gentle kiss. It was a slow walk.

When they finally reached the car, the parking lot was already more than half em
pty and cars were revving impa
tiently
in line, waiting for their turn. Dain put all the impedimenta away, helped Keri into the front seat and joined her from his side of the car. In the darkness and privacy of the car interior Dain pulled her into his arms with- a hunger that was well matched by Keri's own.

He ran his hands over her shoulders, down her upper arms, and over to her rib cage. The silky soft blouse was no barrier to his delight i
n the fullness which filled and
overflowed his palms. "Mine, you're mine now, Keri. All mine, only mine," he murmured before he took her mouth in an almost punishing kiss.

It was with a distinct effort that he pulled himself away. Never the time nor the place," he said wryly. The parking lot was nearly deserted and it was time for them to go as well. Keri snuggled close to him, sliding her shoulder behind his right arm so that they were close, but he could drive unimpeded. Daringly she laid her left hand on the top of his thigh, enjoying the feel of the flexing power of his leg muscles as he accelerated and braked. His hand dropped down briefly to squeeze hers and to press it more firmly onto his leg.

The drive to her apartment was swift. Traffic was light on the Beltway and Dain was a steady, skillful driver. Nevertheless Keri was drooping by the time they reached the visitors' parking spaces in front of her apartment. The wine, the hard week, and most of all, the emotions she had experienced, despair and delight, all took their toll.

Dain leaned forward to shut off the ignition and as he
l
ooked back at Keri, he caught her in the midst of a massive yawn. The yawn reflex caught up with him too, and he smothered one with his hand and then wearily rubbed the back of his neck. Keri grinned sleepily at him and he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. "Come on, sweetheart. Time for all big-eyed little girls to go inside."

Keri agreed without argument. Her eyelids felt grainy with tiredness and she was fighting a losing battle against another yawn. Dain helped her from the car and tucked her beneath his arm. She slid an arm around his waist. He was so warm and so nice to lean on. She drooped against him wearily. They were riding up in the elevator before she remembered the picnic basket.

'I’ll bring it with me tomorrow, darling," Dain assured Keri. "You did say there was one more hardboiled egg, didn't you?"

"Maybe even a drumstick or two and some cherry tomatoes as well," she enumerated with a smile.

Keri gave Dain her key and he opened the door to her apartment. They stepped inside, but Dain didn't close the door behind him as she had expected. Keri looked up at him questioningly and he laid a fingertip on her lips.

"I'll be by for you about eight thirty tomorrow, Keri. You'll need a good night's sleep to be ready to tackle all those moon rocks and space capsules. And I'll need a good night's sleep to be able to keep up with you while you do it!" He pulled her into a hard embrace. "Sleep soft tonight, my darling, and dream of me." He kissed her thoroughly, handed back the key to her front door and added quietly, "I love you, beautiful Keri. Remember that tonight in your dreams."

She smiled mistily up at him. "I love you too, Dain. Come at eight and I'll feed you breakfast."

"Done," he accepted with alacrity and went out, closing the door behind him. Keri gazed unseeingly at the blank surface for a long time, a beatific smile curving her mouth. She loved. She was loved. No shadow of betrayal dimmed
the fresh luminosity of this newly acknowledged love.

Keri was up early the next morning. If Dain's appetite to date for her cooking was anything to go by, she'd better fix a farmhand's breakfast. She decided on huevos rancheros, hickory-smoked sausage rounds, and hot apple- bran muffins.

When the doorbell rang at precisely eight o'clock, the apartment was fragrant with the mingled odors. Keri met Dain at the door with a hot kiss and the promise of an even hotter cup of coffee, and her heart turned over with love as she saw the smile in his eyes. He looked fresh and well rested, much as Keri herself felt.

She had slept soundly during the night, going to bed with a smile on her mouth and waking with it still in
place. She had showered and dressed carefully, but with speed, in comfortable slacks, a scallop-necked knitted top, and low-heeled walking shoes she looked fresh and curvy and the happiness that bubbled and frothed to fill her whole skin gave her an unmistaken glow.

Dain eyed her with evident appreciation. After the first kiss he began to nibble lightly on her throat while his hands pressed her closer to his hard body. "You are delicious, my darling Keri," he murmured.

"Hungry again, Dain! All you think about is food, I do believe," she gurgled softly. Her own lips were busy somewhere in the region beneath his left ear. The faint tang of his aftershave mingled with the warm male smell of his skin was leading Keri to do a little nibbling of her own.

They might never have gotten around to breakfast if the buzzer of the oven timer hadn't gone off to announce that the muffins were done. As Keri pulled reluctantly away from Dain, he announced bitterly, "First phone bells and now even your oven timer is in league against me! Your apartment is going to give me a persecution complex. The sooner I get you out of here, the better."

He had followed her into the close confines of her kitchen as he spoke and she grinned at him while she lifted the hot tins from the oven. She upended them, one at a time, over an insulated wicker basket and the muffins dropped smartly out. Dain lifted one from the basket, juggling it deftly until it cooled enough for him to take an appreciative bite.

"And speaking of getting you out of here," he continued while she served his plate at the table, "when can we get married? Next weekend? Can your relatives gather that fast? You don't want a ten-bridesmaid wedding, do you?" he asked with unconcealed trepidation. "I love you enough to endure a morning coat, but I hope you love me enough not to ask it of me."

The hopeful, questioning inflection in his voice nearly convulsed her. "Could we compromise on eight?" She teased him and laughed delightedly at his expression. He chewed glumly on his eggs and she decided to put him out of his misery. "I don't know exactly how soon Mom and Dad and my brothers can get here. I'll have to call them, but I don't need even a one-bridesmaid wedding. All I need is you," she reassured him.

He heaved an ostentatious sigh of relief and reached into the pocket of his slacks. "For that correct answer, milady receives a prize." He casually unwrapped a twist of soft fabric and lifted out a beautiful, glittering diamond solitaire ring. Keri's mouth rounded in an O of delight and disbelief.

Dain tenderly lifted her left hand and slid the ring, with its fiery marquise-cut diamond, carefully down her finger. When it fit with a snug exactness, he kissed the knuckle of that finger and said with satisfaction, "And that's to come off only to slide a wedding band beneath it, and
that
just as soon as possible. You're mine only now, Keri, and this is my mark, my
 
KEEP OFF 
sign."

There was a strongly possessive note in his voice which surprised Keri. Somehow she had the feeling that Dain was speaking more than just generally. She had not considered that Dain might be an abnormally possessive man. His reputation had certainly given no hint of such a facet to his character, but then she had a feeling that she and Dain would both be exploring uncharted territory. She'd certainly never been in love before and she doubted that Dain had either. If her own emotions were anything to judge by, she could comprehend feeling possessive. She personally was prepared to scratch the eyes out of any woman who so much as looked cross
-
eyed at Dain!

The glass, steel, and stone Air and Space Museum was impressive, as were the exhibits contained therein. Keri did indeed see moon rocks and space capsules as well as flying machines of an earlier era. She wandered entranced from exhibit to exhibit, listening attentively to each recorded explanation. Dain bought her a guidebook at the museum bookstore and she paged through it periodically, whenever she wanted fuller information or was trying to decide what they should see next.

Dain kept her hand firmly clasped in his own, but otherwise was content to let her wander where she wanted. He was aware of the many admiring glances Keri garnered, but they didn't seem to ruffle his composure, especially since Keri was sublimely unaware of any man save himself. The sparkling ring on her left hand and his proprietorial air were sufficient look-but-don't-touch signs.

By three o'clock Keri was tired of things mechanical. She smiled appealingly at Dain and said, "Could we go to the National Gallery for a little while? I'd very much like to visit the French galleries. There are some marvelous Impressionist paintings that I'd love to see again. My favorite ones are by Monet, of the Rouen cathedral at different times of day. The colors and changed light fascinate me. I could stand looking at the National Gallery's Rouen canvases for hours."

"Well, we don't have hours before closing time, but I imagine that there's time for you to at least renew acquaintance with the Monets. I gather that the National Gallery was one of your haunts in your younger museum days?"

"Oh, yes," she admitted readily. Then she added in tones of awe, "Do you know that the Gallery has a Da Vinci?" Her forehead wrinkled endearingly as she tried to express her thoughts clearly. "I think, over and above the artistic significance of the paintings, whether by Old Masters or not, they form, for me at least,
a ...
a link between people long dead, touching me across space and time as nothing else can. The artist painted in his time and I see in mine and we are joined in a visual experience. The artist actually touched and made that painting. An author spins out the words, but the books themselves are once removed from the physical touch of the creator. For me a painting is a physical experience as well as an intellectual one.

"I felt that same link through time when I was in England. When I walked in the cathedrals, and even more so in the small Norman churches, I felt a kinship, a sure knowledge that others of my kind had walked as I did on those slabs, had touched the rough and dressed stone walls. We could have bee
n walking side by side but sepa
rated by five hundred, a thousand years, those people and I. Does that sound too fanciful to you, Dain?" She looked seriously up into the thoughtful green eyes.

"No," he said slowly.
"Not fanciful. Thought-provok
ing, perhaps, and perhaps a bit uncomfortable, but your ghosts must have been friendly ones."

"Oh, not ghosts," she disagreed. "Real people. I knew they were there even though I could neither see nor hear them." She shrugged
and quoted Shelley's "Ode to Na
ples."

I stood within the City disinterred;

And heard the autumnal leaves like footfalls

Of spirits passing through the streets ...

"A tenuous awareness," Keri went on, "but neither friendly nor unfriendly. Just a link- in the mind."

Dain took Keri to the National Gallery, as requested, and watched her lose herself in contemplation of the Monets. While she was absorbed, oblivious to his presence, he contemplated her. He suspected that she had a unique way of looking at life and he wanted badly to understand her thought processes. Thought-provoking indeed.

She was still pensively quiet as they crossed back over the Potomac River into Virginia. She didn't question their destination, still immersed as she was in the slightly melancholy mood engendered by her mental meandering into the past.

Dam's apartment in Arlington was large and luxurious. Keri's apartment would have fit into it three times over. The carpets were thick and plush. Keri promptly took off her shoes and socks and wiggled her toes deep into the pile.

"Ah ...
My arches thank you," she groaned. She looked around the living room with interest. There were deep suede cloth couches and chairs, comfortable but not impossible to get out of. Heavily textured fabric hung in floor-to-ceiling drapes and warmly oiled wood blended well with the earth-tone color scheme. Elegance and comfort were judiciously combined in a thoroughly masculine apartment.

Keri stretched out on the couch, much as Dain had at her apartment, and waved a hand lazily. "Don't mind me. I'll just inspect your ceiling while you whip up something tasty in the kitchen."

He gave a short crack of laughter. "If I tried to whip up something in the kitchen, I can pretty well guarantee that it wouldn't be all that tasty. Ham sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly, or scrambled eggs are about my speed."

"Do you mean that you brought me here to
starve?"
she wailed in mock indignation. "Or am I to rummage in your bachelor refrigerator and magically produce a six-course meal from a nub of cheddar cheese and the old rinds of bacon?"