Rand's Redemption. Karen Van Der Zee
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