Rand's Redemption
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Karen Van Der Zee
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CHAPTER ONE
SHANNA noticed the man from quite a distance as he came striding down the busy street toward the Thorn Tree Café terrace. It was hard not to. Amid the colorful crowd of tourists sporting cameras, men in business suits, Indian women in exotic saris and Arabs in flowing robes, he looked tall and casual in his khaki slacks and short-sleeved shirt. He had long legs and he moved with the grace of an athlete. Or an animal, free and proud in the wild.
He entered the terrace where she was sitting with Nick and glanced around. His dark hair was curly and cropped close, his blue eyes clear and sharp.
He was coming toward them.
Her stomach tightened, her pulse quickened and she felt a delicious thrill of excitement—a different kind of excitement than she had felt ever since she’d woozily stumbled off the plane in Nairobi last night—a kind of excitement that made you think of romantic music and starry nights, the kind that made your heart do dance steps.
Barely off the plane and she was dreaming already. Well, why not. Today was a golden day.
A day full of exotic sights and tropical sunshine and bright promise. A day full of secret anticipation of what was to come. She was finally back in the place where she had spent the four happiest years of her life as a girl. Oh, how long she had dreamed of this!
She felt Nick’s arm around her shoulder. He smiled at her. “It’s good to see you happy,” he said. “Keep it up okay?”
She was touched by the warmth in his eyes. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Nick. A change of scenery will do me good, something to occupy my mind.”
He tightened his arm around her, kissed her cheek. “Good, then I’m glad you came.”
And then he was there, the stranger, looming in front of them.
Nick leaped to his feet with a wide grin and the men shook hands. The man was taller than Nick, who was tall by anyone’s standard. He looked like he belonged on a movie screen—confident, self-assured. As if he owned the world.
Well, he owned part of it.
Seventy-five thousand acres of hills and jungle and savannah in the Rift Valley, where he raised sheep and cattle and lived in a big, gorgeous house on the edge of a cliff. Just like in the movies. She’d seen the pictures Nick had taken some years ago, and last year a magazine had featured an article on the ranch and the research work conducted there by the Kenyan government and the African Wildlife Organisation. Looking at the man, she could easily imagine him in a Land Rover or on a horse, or flying a little Cessna, all of which he probably did.
Nick turned to face her with a smile. “Shanna, this is Rand Caldwell. Rand, Shanna Moore, my niece.”
She extended her hand and he took it in his huge hard one. For a pregnant moment he said nothing, just stared at her with his penetrating blue gaze. In the tanned face his eyes looked impossibly light, and disturbingly icy.
“Miss Moore,” he said in cool British tones, and released her hand.
Meeting new people was not usually a source of apprehension for her. However, this man made her feel off balance. Why was he looking at her like this?
“Nice to meet you,” she said, and offered him her cheeriest smile, trying not to show him he’d unnerved her, which he had. “Nick told me all about your ranch.”
Rand lifted a quizzical brow and glanced over at Nick. “You haven’t seen it in years,” he said dryly.
Nick grinned. “It made an indelible impression. Especially that lioness that nearly tore me apart.”
Nick was, biologically, her uncle, but in reality he was more like a big brother. He was a fun-loving guy with a sense of the adventurous, eleven years older than she. Since the death of her parents six years ago, it was at Nick and his wife Melanie’s home she’d spent Christmas and other holidays. They were her family now.
“How’s Melanie?” Rand asked.
“Very well,” said Nick. “Busy with the children. She’s sorry she couldn’t come along.” In his student days Rand had spent a couple of years studying in the States and had become friends with Melanie and Nick.
The men ordered beer and Shanna asked for another passion fruit juice, nectar of the gods. She listened absently to the conversation, sipping her juice and watching the colorful melee of humanity pass by in the busy street.
A tall blond woman maneuvered her way through the maze of chairs and tables, a baby in her arms, his little face blissfully asleep on her shoulder.
Sammy.
A rush of longing. Instant, fierce. She could feel the weight of his small body in her arms, smell his sweet baby smell. Tears burned behind her eyes. She glanced down at her lap, pressed her eyes closed and took a deep, steadying breath.
Sammy was all right. She had to believe that. She took another deep breath.
Think of something else, she told herself.
Like Rand Caldwell and his icy eyes.
Focusing on the men’s voices, she heard them talk about politics and her thoughts drifted to the ranch, the pictures she had seen.
The ranch, she knew, was only twenty miles from Kanguli, the village where she had lived with her parents as a child. What she wanted to do more than anything else was to run out into the street, hijack the first Jeep or Land Rover passing by and drive out to Kanguli right this minute. Unfortunately she’d have to wait till tomorrow, when she’d pick up her own rented Land Rover. She hoped she could still find the village. Would the people still remember her after all this time?
She watched Rand as he talked. He had a somewhat prominent nose, a square chin, a high forehead—a face like a living sculpture, angular and masculine. And those piercing eyes…
She glanced down at his hands holding his beer glass. They were big and brown and strong. Capable, competent hands. It would be interesting to see him in action on the ranch.
He looked at her suddenly, as if he realized that she’d been studying him. For a moment their eyes locked. The cool disdain in his face was unsettling. Why was he looking at her like that?
She heard Nick talking about her, telling Rand that she was writing an article for a university publication.
“And you’re here to do research?” Rand asked politely.
“Yes,” she said. This was partially the truth, if not the whole truth.
“And you happened to come out at the same time as Nick?” he asked levelly.
She nodded. “My schedule was flexible, so I made it fit his.”
“And what are you going to write about?” His tone indicated he couldn’t care less.
“I’m doing a piece on Kenyan women, how their lives have changed in the last generation, their position in the family, the society and the workforce.”
One dark brow cocked. “Really?” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.
She groaned inwardly, knowing full well what he was thinking. He thought she was here for two weeks. The idea of writing a well-researched article of that nature in two weeks, being fresh in a foreign country, was laughable.
Only, she wasn’t a stranger to the country, and she wasn’t staying for two weeks—not if her plans worked out, and she was determined that they should. However, she could not set Mr. Rand Caldwell straight because Nick didn’t know about her intentions yet. She didn’t want to worry him.
Rand was looking at her, narrow-eyed, contemplating no doubt if she were merely acting like a fool, or, in actual fact, was one.
Nick patted her hand and drew his tall body out of the chair. “I need to make a phone call. Can I trust you two alone for a few minutes?”
Shanna rolled her eyes at him and he grinned.
Left alone with Rand, Shanna was well aware of a certain disconcerting electricity in the air between them. For a reason she couldn’t begin to understand, this man did not like her. Perhaps it was best to simply ignore the vibes he was sending out and pretend she had no idea. Well, she didn’t. At least not why he seemed to be so chilly toward her.
“I understand there is a lot of wild game on your property,” she said, “and you’re very involved in conservation.”
He took a swallow of beer. “Yes.” His voice was curt and impatient.
“I saw the article they did on your work at the ranch last year,” she went on. “Why did you decide to allow your place to be used for research?”
“Because I think it is important,” he said, as if he were talking to a dim-witted child. She let it pass, trying to remember what else had been in the article. It had mentioned the house which was built on the edge of a wild and rocky gorge. Magnificent views, dramatic scenery, the report had said, and the photos had been dramatic indeed. She’d love to see the place.
She took a drink from her juice and a thought occurred to her. It was rather a brave thought, she had to admit, but why not take a risk? She had nothing to lose.
“You have a big place,” she stated. “Do you have women employees, farm workers?”
“Yes.” He reached for his glass.
“I wonder if I could visit some time and talk to the women. If it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, of course.”
“I doubt it will be helpful,” he said with barely restrained condescension.
“I think it might be.” She produced a smile. “And of course, if you know other women who would be willing to talk to me, I would appreciate your help.”
His eyes narrowed slightly and he was silent for a moment. She had confused him with her appeal. He was emitting hostile vibrations and he had expected to receive the same in return. Instead, she was appealing to his gentleman instincts and asking for help.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes probing hers. “I’ll let you know.” His tone of voice indicated that she might as well forget the whole idea.
She smiled. She was determined to stay civil and keep her dignity. “Thank you. It’s important I talk to as many different kinds of women as possible to get a balanced impression.”
“And you think you can accomplish that in two weeks?”
She shrugged. “I’ve done extensive research.”
“I see,” he said in a tone that indicated he doubted it very much.
She pretended not to notice his animosity. The best defense was no defense at all.
They sat in silence, and she watched the people around her.
“Nick told me you were born in Kenya, that you grew up here,” she said after a while, making another effort at civilized conversation, “and that the ranch has been in your family since your grandfather came to Kenya from England in the early twenties.”
His mouth tightened. “Yes.”
She leaned forward in her chair. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…pry. I’m just trying to make conversation.” She smiled again, but it was taking quite an effort.
“Naturally.” He radiated cold dislike.
It was amazing. What was the matter with this man? She hadn’t asked anything that wasn’t printed in the article. She leaned back in her chair and decided to get away from the personal.
“It’s wonderful to be here. I’m looking forward to the party tonight, meeting people.”
She was quite comfortable with her own company, but now and again she enjoyed parties and other get-togethers where she had the opportunity to meet interesting people, learn new things.
He did not respond, but then of course she had not asked a question; she’d merely made a comment, and he certainly didn’t seem inclined to make an effort to keep the conversation going. Perhaps, living alone, he had forgotten how to talk and be sociable.
“Living in such an isolated place must get lonely at times,” she commented. “What do you do for entertainment?”
“Entertainment is not high on my list of priorities. I have a ranch to run.”
And certainly he had no time for anything as frivolous as entertainment, came the automatic thought. “Yes, of course,” she said evenly, “but a person can’t always work. A modest dose of fun now and then is good for the soul.”
He took a swallow of beer and said nothing.
“If you have one,” she added, unable to help herself.
He raised his brows in mild derision, still saying nothing and she was tempted to pour her drink over his handsome head but managed to contain herself.
“Do you?” she asked. “Have a soul?”
“I doubt it,” he said, and there was the merest quiver of his mouth, but she might have imagined it. She wondered what made him smile, laugh. What made him happy.
“What do you enjoy most about your work? What is it that gives you pleasure?”
He raised his brows. “You certainly seem to be preoccupied with fun and joy and pleasure,” he said, his voice sounding as if these were unsavory pastimes no moral person should get involved with.
“Not to mention happiness,” she added, smiling sweetly. “I enjoy my work, I enjoy my friends. I like being happy, and if I may be so blunt, there seems to be a great lack of all that in your disposition.” She came to her feet. “Excuse me, I think my hair needs combing.”
Rand watched her go. Lovely legs, sexy body. She was beautiful, with her blond hair and green eyes and that gorgeous sunny smile. An empty-headed party girl, no doubt. His stomach clenched painfully.
Blond hair and green eyes.
An image floated through his mind, the face of another woman, smiling. The scent of violets. He thought of the twelve-year-old boy lying in bed, trying desperately not to cry because men don’t cry. He thought of promises made and never kept. He squashed the memories forcefully, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth. It had been years since he’d allowed himself to think of her. It was all in the past, done, over with.
Instead, he thought of Melanie, the way he remembered her, long ago, looking at Nick, hopelessly in love. Her happy face, the love in her eyes. So young and naive, so blind.
There was no denying that Nick had been a true friend to him in his college years in the States. There was also no denying that Nick had been an irrepressible skirt chaser, breaking hearts left, right and center. Rand sighed and rubbed his forehead.
He had warned Melanie, but she had not heeded that warning. Instead of running the other way, she had married him. And now here was Nick, far away from home, with this woman, his niece.
Shanna was in her hotel room, which adjoined Nick’s, and plopped herself down on the big, comfortable bed. It was a gorgeous room, nicely furnished with rattan furniture with cushions upholstered in some bright, tropical fabric, and interesting batik art on the wall.
She stretched out on the bed and let out a deep sigh. She had almost lost her temper with Mr. Rand Caldwell, but not quite.
After she’d returned from the ladies’ room, she’d found Nick back at the table and soon after that they’d left to go back to their hotel, and Rand to the house of friends where he was staying.
His supercilious manner was infuriating, not to mention offensive. For some incomprehensible reason, he did not like her. Or was she just imagining it? Was she paranoid? Certainly not. She’d never been paranoid, so why now? Surely it was not a virus one caught on a plane or from drinking alien water.
She yawned, feeling exhausted. She glanced at the bedside clock. She had two hours before they’d have to leave for the party, enough time for a nap. And tomorrow the Great Adventure would begin in earnest.
A thought suddenly occurred to her. Giving a frustrated groan, she slipped off the bed, opened one of the dresser drawers and took out a thick, padded envelope. It was too big to fit in the small safe in her room and she’d intended to put it in the hotel’s safe but it had been too late last night. And this morning she’d forgotten to take care of it in her eagerness to start exploring the city.
Slipping back into her shoes, she grabbed her purse and key card and left the room. She stood in the elevator and hugged the envelope to her chest, smiling to herself. She would take no risks. The originals were in her safe-deposit box at her bank in Boston and she’d brought a photo copy as well as a copy on disk to use with her laptop.
Oh, Dad, she said silently, I’ll get it done! I’ll make you proud! Her eyes blurred suddenly and she swallowed hard. She was going to do what she had planned for some time now, and she was going to do it right here in Kenya. Pressing the envelope even tighter against her, she blinked back her tears, feeling an odd mixture of both sadness and joy.
Nick would not be happy when she told him she intended to stay in the country on her own. He felt protective of her, which was nice, but she was twenty-seven and she knew what she wanted and he and Melanie did not need to worry about her anymore. She was going to be fine.
The elevator door opened and she stepped into the massive lobby with its potted palms and crystal chandeliers and exotic artwork. All very comfortable, very luxurious. Tomorrow she would be out driving in the country, see the lush green hills planted with tea and coffee, the flat bush, the tall giraffes, the leaping gazelles. Excitement tickled her blood and she could hardly wait.
After the envelope had been safely tucked away, she went straight back to her room, stripped off her clothes and took a quick shower in the sumptuous bathroom. Draped in a cotton robe provided by the hotel, she collapsed on the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
It was not a restful slumber. She dreamed that she was back in Kanguli and the house was gone. All the huts were empty and there were no people. She called out for her father but he did not come, and then Rand appeared out of nowhere and stood there looking at her with his cold eyes, saying nothing. It was so awful that she could not stand it and broke into tears. Don’t look at me like that! she sobbed. Why are you looking at me like that? But he merely lifted a sardonic brow and gave no answer. I want to know where my father is! she cried. I have to tell him something!
Your father is dead, he said, and you can’t stay here. You have no business being here. And then there was the sound of drums coming from the village and suddenly she was awake.
It wasn’t the sound of drums she’d heard, she realized, but Nick knocking on the door connecting their two rooms.
“Shanna? Are you awake?”
Shivering, she hugged herself. “Yes, yes, I am.” She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. She had forty minutes. “I’ll get ready.”
She dressed in a simple silk dress of deep cobalt blue. It was slim-fitting and discreetly sexy. As she examined herself in the mirror, the image of Rand flitted through her head and a small shiver of apprehension ran down her back. She shook it away impatiently.
With 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, giving her attention again to the Kenyan woman by her side, a doctor working in a maternity clinic.
Sometime later she found Nick standing next to her. “You’re not working, by any chance, are you?” he whispered in her ear.
She laughed and hooked her arm through his. “I’m just talking, enjoying myself.”
He grinned down at her. “You don’t fool me.”
“Women everywhere like talking about their lives, Nick. All I do is listen.” She laughed and then her eyes caught Rand’s cold gaze directed at her and her laughter froze. She let go of Nick’s arm and took a drink from her glass.
“My, that Rand is a cold one,” she said to Nick, and she saw him frown.
“He never was one of the world’s great extroverts, but I have to admit I seem to remember him as more congenial.” Nick shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I saw him last.” He studied her with a sudden gleam in his eyes. “Why don’t you warm him up a little, Shanna? You’re good at loosening people up. Give him some of that irresistible charm of yours.”
She grimaced. “I tried. He’s immune.”
“He keeps looking at you, I’ve noticed.”
“Oh, really? You must be imagining it,” she said lightly. But he hadn’t, and she knew it.
She was standing at the buffet table surveying the food when Rand appeared next to her.
“You’re quite the party girl, aren’t you?” he asked, an unmistakable hint of mockery in his voice.
For a moment she just stared at him. Since when was it a sin to be gregarious and happy, to enjoy being with people? Since when did that make you automatically a shallow or frivolous person? Well, apparently in his mind it did.
She resisted the urge to say something sharp in return. He wasn’t going to goad her, she was determined. Instead, she gave him a cheery smile.
“I’m enjoying myself. That’s all right, isn’t it? I mean, there isn’t something wrong with having fun, is there?”
His mouth twisted and he reached for some of the food and placed it on his plate without answering her.
She tilted her head and made a show of observing him. “You don’t look like you’re having any fun. You ought to work on it a little, you know. Live dangerously. Smile a little. You might just like it.” She couldn’t help taunting him; his arrogant attitude was bringing out the worst in her.
He gave her a stony stare. “I didn’t come here to have fun.”
“That’s a shame,” she said, pseudo-sympathetic. “So, why are you here, then?”
“Business.”
“Oh, I see. Is that why you look so grim? Business is not fun? You don’t enjoy your work?”
There was a silence as he observed her with wintry eyes. “Not everything in life is fun. But if fun is what drives you, let me assure you that I have none to offer you.”
Shanna had had little experience being treated with disdain. Hot indignation welled up inside her. The man was offensive, insufferable and infuriating. It was tempting to tell him so, but presenting him with her opinion of him would only give him satisfaction, she was sure. She managed, with admirable control, to keep her cool and not show him the anger heating her blood. Instead, she nodded solemnly at his statement.
“I figured that one out all by myself,” she said calmly. “You’re no fun at all.” She sighed theatrically, she couldn’t help herself. “I’m afraid you’re a lost cause.”
“Oh,” he said lazily, “perhaps it depends on whose cause. Not all men are fooled by beauty and charm.”
His meaning was clear. She had beauty and charm, but he wasn’t fooled by her. The man was an ego maniac. Her stunned mind grasped wildly for an apt reply, failing miserably.
Rand picked up his plate, offering her a contemptuous look. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
He strode off, leaving her speechless and seething.
