Rand's Redemption. Karen Van Der Zee

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СКАЧАТЬ more vigor than necessary, she brushed out her hair. She was not going to let the man ruin her good time. She intended to enjoy the evening. If he did not like her, it was his problem, not hers.

      She left her hair loose, put in long earrings, and stepped into high heels. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and grinned at her reflection in the mirror. “Go for it, girl,” she said out loud, and knocked on the connecting door.

      Nick was ready to go.

      “Stunning,” he said and grinned at her.

      “Thank you, suh,” she drawled and smiled back at him. Secretly she had to admit to herself that she was glad she didn’t have to face Rand by herself.

      The man in question looked devastatingly handsome in his dark trousers and white jacket and her heart skittered crazily when she saw him enter the hotel lobby just as she and Nick emerged from the elevator. She willed herself to be calm, putting a little zip in her step as they crossed the lobby to meet him. She offered him a sunny smile which found no answer in his implacable face.

      His frosty-blue gaze slipped over her from head to toe and he gave a tight little nod in greeting. “Ready?” he asked.

      They left the lobby to find his car. It was a dusty Land Rover, a rugged vehicle that looked as if it was not used to an easy life.

      “I apologize for the inferior transportation,” Rand said, sounding like he didn’t give a hoot.

      She smiled brightly. “No problem.” She wondered if she’d manage to get a smile from him tonight. His face looked like he didn’t do a lot of smiling. How could you not smile owning your own piece of paradise in this gorgeous country?

      Like a gentleman, he held the door open for her and she slipped in the passenger seat in front. Whatever his attitude, his manners were all there, which was reassuring. Nick got into the back. The interior looked clean enough apart from the dried-up reddish dirt on the floor where muddy boots had tracked it in.

      The party was held at a large, beautiful house at the outskirts of Nairobi, the private home of Lynn and Charlie Comstock, people on the faculty of the university that had invited Nick to do his lectures.

      Lynn Comstock was an interesting person of mixed Italian and English descent who had lived all her life in Kenya. She had very dark hair, dancing silvery-gray eyes and a lively face. She asked about Shanna’s work, and after several questions turned suddenly around, surveyed the guests and waved Rand over.

      “Rand! Shanna’s been telling me about an article she’s writing about…”

      “I know,” he said. “She told me.”

      “You must invite her to your place, let her talk to Wambui! She’s perfect! And that old Pokot woman, now there’s a character for you!”

      “I already asked,” Shanna said. “Rand does not think it will be useful for me to talk to anyone there.”

      Lynn gave him an exasperated look. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rand!”

      He gave her a steely look. “Excuse me, please,” he said politely, and strode away. Lynn rolled her eyes and turned away. “The man is impossible,” she said to Shanna. “He’s taking after his father more and more. Practically lives like a recluse, or at least that’s what it seems like. I can’t believe he made it to the party.”

      “Does he have something against women?”

      Lynn laughed. “He just doesn’t want them too close. Very standoffish.” She took a sip of her wine.

      “So I’ve noticed,” said Shanna. Maybe it wasn’t just her, then. “I just met him this afternoon and he acted as if I’d crawled out of some primordial swamp.”

      Lynn put her glass down. “He’s usually civil enough, in his own inimitable enigmatic fashion. But I find it amazing how the women go for that remote composure of his. They seem to find it intriguing.”

      “But you don’t?”

      Lynn laughed. “Hades, no. It annoys me no end. I like my men to be up front. I like to know what I’m dealing with. Well, more or less.” She grinned. “You’ve met my Charlie?”

      Shanna had. Charlie was hard to miss with his red beard and exuberant personality. At this moment he was playing the piano and singing Irish drinking songs.

      “Women are always after Rand,” said Lynn. “Slavering practically. Well, he is one handsome hunk, as they say in America, and having that fancy ranch and all that money doesn’t hurt either.”

      Shanna could well imagine.

      Lynn gave a crooked grin. “The naive idiots. They all think they’re the one who’ll break through his reserve and discover the passion underneath, but so far I don’t believe anyone ever has, not even Marina.” She took a fresh drink from a tray passed around by a handsome African waiter in pristine white. “Frankly, I don’t think there is any passion. I’m beginning to think he’s as unfeeling on the inside as on the outside and that he prefers the company of animals over humans.”

      “Who’s Marina?” Shanna couldn’t help herself.

      Lynn glanced at Shanna. “She lived with him for over a year. She’s a painter, Australian. One day she’d had enough, packed up and left. She stayed with us for a while. She said she’d had enough of living with someone who kept her at an emotional distance all the time.” Lynn sighed. “It was sad, really, because I think Marina really loved him.” She glanced at her wineglass. “Oh, I never learn,” she moaned. “Shoot me, please.”

      “Learn what?” asked Shanna.

      “To keep my mouth shut. Two glasses of wine and I lose all my discretion. All I do is talk and spout out whatever comes to mind.” She gave Shanna a pleading look. “I don’t mean to be such a gossip, really. I had no business telling you this, although everyone knows anyway, but…” She shrugged, making a face. “Sorry.”

      The party went on. Shanna was standing with a small group of women, talking, when she noticed Rand nearby. He was observing something intently and the expression on his face made her breath catch in her throat. She stared at him, taking in the faint smile that softened his features, the eyes warm with amusement. Her heart made a leap that almost hurt.

      She tore her gaze away and glanced in the direction he was looking and felt her own face warming with a smile. The object of his tender gaze was a little Indian girl, four or five years old, dressed up in a tiny party sari, a bright, shimmering affair shot with gold. Kohl circled her large eyes, blusher faintly colored her cheeks and lipstick brightened her lips. She looked like a delicate costume doll, perfect, beautiful—except for the expression in her dark eyes, which were full of very unladylike mischief.

      Shanna had no idea why the little girl was at a grown-up party, but there she was, pretty as an exotic butterfly, fluttering among the adults, cooking up something naughty.

      Shanna looked back at Rand, feeling a softening inside her, a strange, ephemeral feeling of elation. And then he met her eyes and his face hardened and all the amusement and warmth vanished from his eyes.

      Her stomach lurched and she clenched her hands around her glass and turned away, СКАЧАТЬ