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  “Let’s put it this way,” Evan said, chuckling. “He hasn’t had a free second since you spoke with Mabel. He’s hiding in the men’s room. I think we’d better dance before he decides it’s safe to return.”

  “Oh, dear, I’m in for it now,” she mumbled as her godfather led her to the dance floor. It was a waltz, which gave her the opportunity to speak. “I’m afraid I made a blunder with one of your guests.”

  Evan’s eyes rounded, feigning shock. “You seem to be making a night of it, my dear. Want to talk about it?” His position with the university and in the community made him a ready listener to the troubles of others.

  Karen felt uneasy. “I’m afraid I literally bumped into Randall Prescott—”

  “Ah,” Evan interrupted her. “I imagine he was rude. He tends to be the prickly sort. Damn good professor, though, the finest. We offer the best business program in the state due to him. Prescott could teach anywhere. The university is lucky to have him.” He hesitated, his thick brows knitting his forehead. “Was Cora with him?”

  “Cora? No. Who’s she?” It hadn’t occurred to Karen that Rand was married. The thought deflated her.

  “That’s unusual. Rand rarely attends any social functions without her.”

  “Is Cora his wife?” Karen hoped to hide any telltale inflection of curiosity from her voice.

  “No, she’s a business associate. They’ve collaborated together, books and the like.”

  Karen felt herself relax, an excitement flowing through her limbs.

  Sensing her interest, Evan felt obliged to add, “I wouldn’t discourage you, Karen, but Randall Prescott is a bit of a cynic. A difficult man to get to know. He’s independent and proud, highly defensive of his blindness. He’s not your normal chivalrous hero … tread carefully.”

  “Who says I’m interested?” Karen asked defensively.

  Evan chuckled. “Karen, I’ve known you all your life. Certainly I know you well enough to recognize that gleam in your eye.”

  Several minutes later, Karen saw Rand sitting unobtrusively in the rear of the hall. She had been waiting for his appearance, silently searching faces. Now she wondered how to gain his attention. In answer to her problem, the orchestra conductor turned to face his audience and announced the first ladies’ choice of the evening.

  Mabel Jackson, with a satisfied smirk, made a beeline for Matthew, who had recently reappeared. Karen groaned in sympathy and walked toward the back of the reception room and the mystifying Randall Prescott.

  Without introduction or preamble, she curtsied. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”

  Rand sat up abruptly and stiffened. “Miss McAlister?”

  “Karen,” she corrected impishly.

  “All right, Karen. Let’s not go through that again.” A smile threatened the stiff line of his mouth.

  He hesitated so long, Karen grew uncomfortable. “You did hear them mention it was ladies’ choice, didn’t you?”

  He held his shoulders stiff and formal. “I’m honored, but no.” His mouth remained inflexible.

  Karen would have been surprised if he’d accepted. “Well, that’s fine; my feet are beginning to ache, anyway. New shoes,” she explained before taking the seat beside him.

  If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Have a seat,” he offered sarcastically.

  Karen ignored his derision. “Thank you, I have.”

  Apparently, he felt no inclination to speak, and Karen was courteous enough not to press. After a dance or two, she discovered that she was completely content to sit with him, not talking, if he wished. She hummed and watched the dancers as they waltzed through the wintry scene. She could almost see Rand relax his guard and accept her company.

  “Aren’t the decorations magnificent?” she asked thoughtlessly, then gasped, recognizing her blunder. How stupid could she be? “If my new shoes are tight, I needn’t worry,” she apologized. “After they’ve been in my mouth a couple of times, they’ll fit fine. That was stupid. Please excuse me,” she added soberly.

  “Don’t worry,” he assured her, almost enjoying her discomfort. “It’s a common mistake. Describe the decorations, will you?”

  It was a pleasure to narrate the lovely scene portrayed by the dangling snowflakes. With her natural flair for theatrics, she described the hall in graphic detail. In afterthought, she added interesting tidbits she knew about some of its occupants.

  “It’s almost impossible to tell when Uncle Evan is angry or upset, but he has a telltale twitch in his upper lip. If you see it move, watch out. And then there’s Clayton Dunbar, a distant relative of the Forsyths’. He’s about as subtle as a garden serpent and has the sincerity of a used-car salesman. He marks his conquests on his bedpost to brag to his friends.”

  “Do I detect a note of mockery?”

  “No use hiding the fact that I detest the man. He’s about as obvious as a Sherman tank.” It was unlike Karen to be catty, and she immediately felt guilty. Besides, was she being any less obvious about her interest in Rand? “That’s unfair. I’m sure Clayton has several good qualities … somewhere.”

  Rand gave a hearty laugh. “You’re apt at describing others. How would you depict yourself?”

  “I couldn’t,” she protested automatically. “How do you picture me?”

  “You have an intriguing voice.” He paused, thinking. “But I’m not referring to the tone quality. You possess an unshakable resolve. I doubt that you’ve ever failed in any pursuit. You’re upbeat, cheerful.”

  “Heavens,” Karen said dryly, “you make me sound like a high school cheerleader.”

  “Definitely not high school. You must be all of nineteen, maybe twenty.”

  Karen laughed lightly. “I’m a whole world away from high school or college. I’m twenty-three.”

  Rand grinned, then added, “You must be five-seven, five-eight at the most.”

  Impressed, Karen lifted her brows expressively. “Five-seven.”

  “Long dark hair and metallic-blue eyes.”

  “Short dark curls, equally dark eyes.”

  A hand cupped the back of her neck; his fingers twisted the pliable curls. Karen was too startled by the sudden action to protest. Her heart rate soared as a languorous warmth spread from her neck.

  He chuckled softly and said, “Yes, short, but soft and inviting. Your eyes must be expressive, promising.” He relaxed against his chair, the dim light illuminating his strongly defined features. Again, Karen experienced the full impact of his masculinity.

  “That’s not quite right, but I’m not going to disillusion you with the truth.” She laughed because she’d always thought her dark eyes, the color of bitter chocolate, were plain. Rand made them sound exciting and enticing.

  “Give me your hand,” he said suddenly. When she complied, his fingers gently examined hers. “You’re not a secretary, or your fingertips wouldn’t be this smooth. Nor do you walk with the crisp purpose of a nurse.”

  “That’s a chauvinistic attitude. All women aren’t secretaries or nurses. I’m not a teacher, either.”

  “Aha!” He laughed again. “You’re employed in a man’s field.”

  Karen smiled at his novel methods of deducing her occupation, but the smile died quickly as she spied Clayton Dunbar eyeing her from the edge of the dance floor. She stiffened instinctively, her reluctance obvious.

  “Is something wrong?” Rand questioned.

  “My wicked past is about to catch up with me. Dad’s revenge is here.” Karen had dated Clayton only once and spent the entire evening fighting off his sexual advances. She hadn’t told her father for fear of offending the Forsyths; now she recognized her error.

  “Karen, baby, it’s good to see you. I see you’ve been waiting for me. Let’s dance.”

  Karen’s mind whirled, searching for a plausible excuse to refuse as she stood.

  Suddenly, Rand rose beside Karen, his imposing frame dwarfing Clayton’s. “Excuse me,” he said stiffly, “but you’ll have to wa
it your turn. This dance is mine.”

  In his eagerness to corner Karen, Clayton hadn’t noticed her formidable companion. His smug expression instantly turned to that of a deprived child.

  Karen’s mood lightened immediately. Placing her hand in Rand’s, she led the way to the dance floor. With a devilish gleam, she turned back and smiled cheerfully. “Ta-ta, Clayton.”

  Rand took the lead, guiding her firmly but cautiously through the array of dancers. The dance floor was unfamiliar territory, but his movements were made skillfully and with confidence. He held her lightly, and a warmth flowed through her.

  “How are we doing?” he questioned.

  “Fine,” she assured him. “You don’t like to dance, do you?” He so obviously didn’t, Karen wondered what had made him offer.

  “Let’s just say I have an easy enough time making a fool of myself without doing it purposely.”

  Impulsively, Karen raised her head and gently laid her lips against the rough line of his jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered softly.

  He drew her slightly closer, and her mind whirled in a confused mixture of emotions. Surely she hadn’t imbibed that much champagne. A glass or two, three at the most. Why should this one man affect her like this?

  “I didn’t want to let you go,” he whispered into her hair, as if admitting to a fault, his voice low and husky.

  “I didn’t want to go, either.” She sighed and rested her head against the velvety texture of his suit jacket.

  His fingers spread across the small of her back, molding her slender figure against him. The beat of his heart sounded in her ear, telling her he was as affected by their closeness as she. Slowly, his hand stroked the back of her neck, his fingers entwining with her hair.

  It wasn’t necessary to talk. Karen hummed the melody as the musicians played, but the tune was inaudible compared to the glorious song her heart was singing. Somehow she’d always known it would be like this. Matthew had claimed he met Madeline and decided to marry her all in the space of one day’s time. Karen had secretly scoffed. Choosing a life partner wasn’t something one did after only a few hours’ acquaintance. Now Karen realized her father had spoken the truth. Just as he had known, she knew now. She didn’t love Rand; not yet. That would come later. But Karen had never been more certain of anything in her life. It was crazy, unorthodox.

  “You’re smiling, aren’t you?” Rand asked after some time.

  Karen had a difficult time finding her voice or thinking coherently. When she did answer, her voice was weak and low. “Yes, I am. How … how did you know?”

  “I just do. I can feel it.”

  Karen didn’t want to talk, afraid words would diminish the wonder of this enchanted evening. Instead, she surrendered to the tide of contentment that engulfed them both.

  He squeezed her, and his strong hand cut into her waist, arching her even closer, as if he feared letting her go. “This is insane.” His lips touched the crown of her hair, his breath stirring her short curls. But he didn’t loosen his hold, nor did he give an indication of wanting to let her go.

  Evan interrupted them with the news that Matthew was ready to leave. “He’s waiting for you at the front entrance,” Evan told Karen.

  Reluctantly, Karen withdrew from Rand’s arms.

  “Dad and I rode together,” she explained unnecessarily.

  “Stay,” Rand murmured. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Fine, fine.” Evan gave Karen a boyish wink. “I’m pleased you two are enjoying yourselves.”

  Slowly, Karen led the way off the dance floor, giving Rand time to reorient himself.

  “I’ll only be a minute.” She left Rand beside the chairs they’d shared before dancing and hurried to meet Matthew. Without bothering to explain, she gave her father a peck on the cheek and told him she had a ride home and would talk to him in the morning. Leaving Matthew looking slightly perplexed, Karen rushed to the main part of the reception hall and Rand.

  But Rand was nowhere to be seen. For an instant, panic filled her until comprehension came. This time she was wise enough to seek her coat before venturing into the cold.

  Opening the glass door of the balcony, she saw him standing at the railing as before. He didn’t turn toward her, although she was sure he’d heard the door open.

  “Rand,” she whispered, suddenly nervous.

  He turned to her then, his face a mask of indecision and inner turmoil. Karen yearned to run to his arms and kiss away his misgivings, to assure him that this unfathomable feeling between them was right and good. But she was frozen, overcome by her own apprehensions.

  “Rand, please,” she pleaded, “don’t shut me out.”

  At the sound of her trembling voice, Rand’s hard features softened, and he opened his arms to her.

  Hesitatingly, she came, sliding her hands around his middle. “I know it’s crazy. I don’t understand it, either,” she admitted, her voice low and faltering.

  “I’ve never experienced anything like this.” His voice was a strange mixture of anger and wonder.

  Karen wanted to assure him this phenomenon was as much a mystery to her. “Me either, never.”

  “Oh, what the hell,” he groaned out before his mouth crushed down upon hers in a kiss that was both fierce and hungry. His arms, folded tightly around her, relaxed as the kiss continued. Their reaction shocked them both. It was as if a charge of lightning had arced between them, jolting them. They broke apart abruptly, and Karen’s breath came in uneven gasps. Had she been less unnerved, she might have noticed Rand’s breathing was just as uneven.

  Gently, Rand pulled her back into his arms, as if he needed to further test this sensation. This time, his kiss was tender and sweet, his mouth settling firmly over hers, drawing from Karen her very soul. When he finished, she was trembling and weak.

  “Dear heaven,” he moaned into her hair, “what’s happening?”

  Karen laid her head against his shoulder. “It’s an enchanted evening, and you’re the gallant Perseus,” she whispered a little breathlessly, still caught in the wonder of his kiss.

  “I’m hardly the gallant one,” Rand said with a hint of sarcasm. “It’s more like a bewitched Perseus held captive by the charms of the Lady Andromeda.” His finger and thumb stroked her chin sensuously.

  Mentally, Karen recalled the mythological tale. “Perseus rescued Andromeda, remember? She was doomed without him.” Breaking from his hold, Karen examined the sky. “Rand, Andromeda’s there.” Excitement crept into her voice as she needlessly pointed to the heavens.

  Rand’s arms surrounded her again. “Of course Andromeda’s there. Perseus needs her,” he murmured, as if admitting to his own lacking. “It’s been said she’s very beautiful. May I examine her?”

  Karen didn’t understand his meaning until his fingertips began gently caressing the contours of her face, causing her to blush. Her eyelashes fluttered downward in confusion.

  “Not only soft and delicate but very, very lovely.” His husky voice was filled with reverence. Tucking a hand beneath her chin, he lifted her face while his mouth made an unhurried descent to claim her lips. Again, Karen’s mind whirled to a new height of sensual awareness.

  “I can see a distinct advantage to your blindness,” Karen mumbled once the rapid beat of her heart stilled. “I’m no raving beauty.”

  Her hands, pressing against his back, could feel his corded muscles tense. It was wrong to mention his handicap. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she began haltingly, uncertain. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as if she wanted to bite back the thoughtless words. “I have much to learn, Rand. I guess I’m afraid of making another stupid blunder.”

  “That was a compliment,” he said stiffly. “You spoke to me as you would any other companion. You didn’t attempt to rescue me or fall into the traps others do. People tend to think that because I’m blind I must also be mentally retarded. Nothing on God’s earth irritates me more. Treat me as you would any other man.”

 
“Why are you so angry?” Karen asked, attempting to hide the hurt in her voice.

  Rand forcefully released his breath before a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I guess I do tend to stand on a soapbox every now and then. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to be treated like a blind man.”

  “That won’t be difficult for me. I have a hard time remembering. You move with confidence and show none of the outward signs. I thought the blind used white canes or Seeing Eye dogs.”

  “I have partial vision,” he explained, and his mouth returned to an inflexible line. “A bad case of the measles as a child ruined my vision, and it’s grown steadily worse over the years.”

  “Then you can see some things?” she questioned.

  “Very little. Soon it will be as you mentioned—the white cane or the dog.”

  With infinite tenderness, Karen’s hands cupped his jaw to bring his face downward so she could very gently kiss each closed eye.

  Rand groaned and pulled her tightly against him, his breathing ragged. “Oh, Karen,” he murmured, holding her fiercely.

  “Andromeda,” she corrected with a smile.

  They danced in each other’s arms until there was no more music. They spoke little, embraced by the marvel of the night, creating their own world on a starlit balcony.

  Rand was met outside the hall by a lanky, older man who stared curiously when he saw Karen was with Rand.

  “Carl.” Rand’s grip tightened around Karen’s waist. “I’d like you to meet the Lady Andromeda.”

  Without the slightest hesitation, the man grinned, showing crooked teeth but a ready, warm smile. “Pleased, I’m sure,” he greeted her formally.

  “I’m pleased, too, Carl. But to set the record straight, the name is Karen.”

  Carl grinned again and opened the back door of the car for them. “Where to?” he asked cheerfully as he started the engine.

  “Karen,” Rand whispered, “your address.”

  “Oh, of course.” She supplied the information and leaned against the back of the seat until Rand’s arm cupped her shoulder, drawing her close to his side. They rode in silence, bathed in a rare kind of contentment.