Love Is Elected (5 page)

"Quiet," he hissed. "Do you want them to hear you out there? Now listen to me. You'll do as I say. We're going to be married. As soon as possible—this afternoon, if it can be managed."

Tearing herself away from him, she fled to the other side of the room, putting the distance of the bed between them. Her hands clutched the edge of the large mahogany bureau for support.

"This is intolerable," she moaned. "What am I going to do?" But even as she uttered those words, a series of images flashed seductively through her mind. She saw her friends and co-workers looking astonished and envious as they heard the announcement of her marriage to the handsome congressional candidate—and Wayne's chagrin and mortification upon hearing the news. She saw the redheaded reporter's green-eyed jealousy as Matt Jordan smiled down at his new raven-haired bride. And finally, she saw her soft, yielding body swept up in Matt Jordan's powerful embrace. With a shiver she admitted to herself that this final image was the most appealing of all.

But quickly she dismissed the last picture from her mind. She simply could not allow herself to be attracted to this overbearing political opportunist. Marriage was too important to Kara. She knew that when she married it would be for love. Matt Jordan was a stranger who didn't love or even care about her. She sighed. I couldn't live with that kind of relationship, she told herself. She had felt alone and unloved for too long. No, marriage was too important to be taken so lightly.

Suddenly she became aware of Matt Jordan's assessing gaze. She looked up and blushed. His eyes were wandering speculatively over her scantily clad form.

"Maybe marriage between us wouldn't be so bad, at least for a while," he mused aloud. His suggestive gaze lingered on her breasts, barely concealed beneath the thin material of her nightdress.

Lifting his eyes to hers, he stalked across the room. To Kara he looked like some predatory beast after his helpless prey. Confused by the purpose she read in his eyes, she stepped back only to find herself trapped in the corner between the bed and the massive mahogany dresser.

She raised her hands futilely to ward off his determined advances, but he merely seized her wrists in a strong viselike grip and smiling, lifted her hands above her head, pinning her helplessly between his overwhelming maleness and the wall. His cool gray eyes slid speculatively over her fine features, finally resting on her soft, half-parted lips. Slowly he bent his dark head, and his mouth moved to take possession of hers. Snapping to, Kara quickly closed her mouth in a hard line of defense, but undeterred, Matt continued to probe her lips, his kiss insistently demanding.

Helplessly she tried to twist her body from his relentless assault. But her efforts only seemed to heighten his desire. He pressed his hard thighs and hips against her vulnerable form.

Against her will, she felt her mouth betray her and her moist lips parted, welcoming his probing tongue. A warm surge of desire flickered through her, and she felt her hips mold themselves to his in response.

Lifting his head, Matt Jordan smiled tauntingly into her deep, violet eyes. "See what I mean," he drawled. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if you had something like this in mind last night when you begged me not to leave you. It wouldn't be the first time that an enterprising young miss trapped an eligible bachelor into marriage."

His words enveloped her like cold wind, sweeping away her earlier fevered passion. Wide-eyed, she stared incredulously at him. He was actually suggesting that she had deliberately trapped him into this unwanted contract. The conceit of such an assumption made her furious. Her pale skin went white with rage and her eyes gleamed with anger. If he's arrogant enough to think I would trick him into a loveless marriage, she thought perversely, then maybe that's just the kind of marriage he deserves.

"Yes," she replied between gritted teeth, "I will marry you!"

"I thought so," he commented wryly, his eyes glittering dangerously. He pulled away from her and gave her body a last marauding glance.

But suddenly his gaze was broken by the sound of an urgent rapping at the door. "You better get out here," boomed the voice of his campaign manager, Frank Adams. "These reporters are getting restless."

Cursing softly, Matt Jordan turned from his still seething prospective bride. Moments later he had dressed and left the room while Kara watched in silent fury.

It wasn't long before her anger subsided though, and she began to have second thoughts about her impetuous decision. Outside the door the press conference had started, and she could hear the voices of Matt, Uncle James, Adams and the questioning reporters. Her hands flew to her head as her mind began to clear.

"Oh, what am I doing?" she almost wailed aloud. Quickly she pulled her white overnight bag off the plaid lounge chair and began feverishly emptying it. In a minute she had found fresh underwear, her hairbrush, clean blue jeans and a burgundy pullover. Anxiously she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans and had trouble maneuvering her arms through the sweater. Dressed at last, she opened the door, firmly intent on interrupting the press conference and setting the record straight.

But she had gone only a few paces when Uncle James swooped down on her and herded her into the kitchen. Over her shoulder she could see Matt Jordan showing the crowd of reporters out. As they exited, Frank Adams paused and whispered with him urgently. Matt shrugged and shook his head. Both men turned and cast quick glances at Kara— the campaign manager's hostile, the candidate's unreadable. Then Adams left to continue conciliating the reporters.

The moment the front door closed Uncle James turned to Kara and demanded, "What the hell were you doing here? You've really made a fine mess of things, young lady!"

"Ah… um…" Kara started to stammer, trying to formulate an answer, but her uncle's angry stare made her unable to continue. Again Kara noticed the blonde in the background who was shooting her condemning looks. She watched curiously as the woman turned solicitously to Uncle James.

"Here, drink this," the woman insisted, thrusting a pill and a glass into the agitated man's hands.

"I don't need that now, Monica," he said, firmly dismissing her offer and turning back to his niece. "The only solution to this mess is to get you two married—and quickly." He knit his brow, obviously deep in thought. Then his expression cleared. "Lucky for us, Maryland doesn't require a waiting period between getting a license and having the ceremony. We can have the whole thing arranged and taken care of before those reporters get back to Baltimore and Washington to make liars of us." Then casting a concerned look at Kara, James added, "You can divorce after the election if you want, but until then you'd better be the most convincing pair of lovebirds in political history."

"But I don't love him. I hardly know him!" Kara cried. "This whole thing is a huge misunderstanding!" She wheeled around and pointed an accusing finger at Matt, whose lithe, muscular body was lounging indolently in the doorway.

"She's right," he drawled, "but that doesn't change things. We'll still have to get married."

"But I can't; I won't…" Kara sputtered.

"You can and you must," her uncle stated firmly. He gave her a level look. "Kara, start thinking Straight. This doesn't just affect Jordan. It will have disastrous effects on your reputation as well. You have a budding career in public relations in Washington. But a scandal could wreck it before it got off the ground."

Kara's eyes fell. Although her thoughts were in turmoil, she knew that her uncle's words had validity. She had only been working in the capital a few months, but she knew what the scandal sheets would do with a story like this.

"And then there's Jordan's career," her uncle went on. "This congressional election could be just a stepping-stone to higher office—possibly the presidency—and a scandal could ruin everything."

Kara looked over at Matt Jordan's dark, handsome figure in the doorway. Was it really true that he might someday be president? Did she really hold the political future of the country in her hand? Would it be selfish and ridiculous to stand in his way? Torn between her warring emotions, she sank down weakly in the kitchen chair and put her head in her hands.

"All right, go ahead and arrange the wedding," she capitulated in a barely audible voice.

The next few hours were a blur of confused sensations. Once she had given in to Uncle James' arguments, the older man had immediately sprung to action, issuing staccato orders at his female companion and his driver. He made arrangements for a pre-dated marriage license and for a local justice of the peace from the village to come up and marry the reluctant couple.

When Kara realized that her uncle meant to hold the ceremony almost immediately, she protested, "But I can't get married in blue jeans. You're making a mockery of this whole thing. It's nothing more than a charade," she cried, throwing up her hands in despair.

But James brushed her objections aside. "Come on now, Kara," he chuckled, "your generation doesn't bother much with white satin nowadays. And if you wanted to march down the aisle in virgin white you should've thought twice about spending the night wrapped up with Jordan here," he teased. The fact that her uncle was getting his own way had put him in a good humor.

But his light tone did not make Kara feel any better. Up until yesterday she had been in command of her life, but now she was being swept up in a flood of events over which she had no control. She blinked away the tears that were stinging the backs of her eyes.

Unexpectedly, Matt Jordan, who had been watching the scene in silence, moved toward the small figure. Taking her cold hands in his, Matt searched her tear-filled eyes for a long moment and then said in a gentle voice, "Kara, I know this isn't what you wanted—it's not exactly what I had in mind either. But the circumstances have forced our hands. We have no choice. We have to be married as quickly as possible. You'll be a more beautiful bride in blue jeans than most women are in white satin." He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "And I promise you that after we're married your closet will be filled with silk and lace."

His unexpected kindness unleashed the tears Kara had fought so bravely to hold back. She sobbed helplessly against his shoulder. But Matt Jordan lifted her chin and looked down into her clouded eyes. "Okay?" he inquired softly. All Kara could do was nod and look away from his steady gaze.

He led her to the door of the bedroom. "You need to relax for a while. Why don't you lie down and rest until the justice of the peace arrives," he told her. She nodded again, went into the bedroom and closed the door.

Images flashed before her—Matt Jordan's handsome face and her uncle's look of agitation, the tree branch in the ceiling of her bedroom, the catlike eyes of the redheaded reporter. But she couldn't get them in focus. One merged into another and it was impossible to interpret any one of them accurately. As the pictures whirled through her mind, she grew dizzy and sat down heavily on the quilt-covered bed.

It seemed like only a few minutes before Matt was rapping firmly on the door and then leading her out into the main room of the cabin where everyone stood waiting.

They were married in front of the big stone fireplace. The justice of the peace, a small, bespectacled man with thinning sandy hair, cast curious, surreptitious glances at the blue-jeaned couple standing dazedly before him.

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" he read from a printed sheet of paper, frowning slightly and looking up questioningly at Matt. "To honor in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Matt replied in a steady voice.

The official then turned to the distracted Kara and repeated the question. There was a long pause while she stared wildly at the man's bewildered face. She had never felt so alone. She cast a desperate look at her bridegroom who nodded reassuringly back at her. From the other side of her Kara could feel her uncle silently willing her to say "yes." Even the slender blonde who hovered at Uncle James' side seemed to be allied against her. The tension was more than she could bear as all eyes focused on her.

"I do," she whispered in a dull voice. And then it was all over. There was an almost audible sigh of relief as the tension dissipated in the room.

"Repeat after me, 'With this ring I thee wed'," the official hurried on. Kara hadn't thought about the ring. What, she wondered, would Matt Jordan use? But he seemed unconcerned as he turned toward her, drew a fine garnet ring from his pocket and slipped it over Kara's slender finger. It fit perfectly, and Kara felt an involuntary twinge of pleasure as she looked down at the jewel sparkling on her hand. How would he have found time to rush down into the village and purchase it? she wondered. She smiled up at him as he leaned over to kiss her warmly on the mouth. Her spirits lifted despite herself.

"By the power vested in me by the state of Maryland," continued the justice of the peace, "I declare you husband and wife." Kara and Matt Jordan embraced once again and Uncle James, wiping his brow in relief, pecked Kara on the cheek.

"That's a good girl," he whispered to the new bride. "We'll straighten this mess out later."

As Uncle James stepped back, the blonde moved forward and said, "Congratulations." She embraced Kara in a formal hug. The new bride received the woman's attentions stiffly.

"Thank you," she muttered in reply, trying to make her gratitude sound genuine. But it was difficult for her to conceal the feelings of disapproval she had toward the woman who must be Uncle James' latest playmate.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kara saw her uncle slip the justice a crisp $100 bill. Then the little man hurried out the door.

Turning to Matt, she looked shyly up at the tall, handsome figure at her side. "The ring is beautiful," she murmured. "However did you find the time to pick it out for me? And how did you know my ring size?" She looked up at him in surprised admiration.

"I didn't," he confessed casually. "And the ring size was just luck. The ring belongs to Monica, who was kind enough to lend it to us for the wedding. You'd better return it to her now. We'll get you something of your own later."