Star Light, Star Bright

One
 
 
“Will he be all right?” Elizabeth whispered. Tears glittered in her eyes as she watched the Lear jet taxi down the runway. “Oh, Jon, I don’t want him to go.”
 
Jon’s arm swiftly encircled her waist in a gesture of love and support. “I know you don’t. Neither do I.” He cleared his throat. “You could have said no. The Clanad left it up to you. They recommended, but you decided. I could still call a council meeting and tell them you’ve changed your mind, that you think it’s the wrong solution.”
 
“I just don’t know.” Elizabeth watched the Lear jet lift into the sky and slowly turned away. “Andrew’s only five. Perhaps we should have allowed him more time.”
 
“It would only have gotten worse,” Jon said gently. “We want him healthy and free, don’t we, love?”
 
“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth smiled shakily. “I just wish I could be there to help him.”
 
“You love him too much.”
 
“He’s my son. Of course I love him.” Elizabeth blinked back the tears. “And he’s so special, Jon. So loving and beautiful and …” She shook her head. “I’m being a typical mother, aren’t I? I know it will be all right. Gunner will watch over him.” She made a face. “Or maybe Andrew will watch over Gunner. Sometimes I’m not sure who’s the child and who’s the adult. Perhaps that nanny can keep them both in order. She sounds very sensible.”
 
“Quite sensible.” A curious smile touched Jon’s lips. “And I’m sure you’re right about Quenby Swensen. I think she’ll be a very stabilizing influence on both Andrew and Gunner.”
 
“Why are you smiling? Is there something I should know?”
 
“Only that the Clanad made some interesting projections regarding Quenby Swensen after they investigated her. She may be—” He stopped and then shrugged his shoulders. “But you’re not interested in their genetic studies. I remember you were quite indignant when I told you what a wonderful match we were going to be.” His dark eyes twinkled. “Even though their predictions proved absolutely correct.”
 
Her eyes widened. “Does Gunner know?”
 
“Certainly. He’s on the governing board of the Clanad and has access to all information. He was intrigued. Not convinced, but definitely interested.”
 
“Heaven help Quenby Swensen.” Elizabeth sighed. “I wouldn’t want to try to tame a wild Scaramouche like Gunner. He may be the most lovable man in this hemisphere, perhaps in the world, but it would drive me insane worrying about what he was going to do next.”
 
“But Quenby Swensen enjoys a challenge. That’s one of the reasons she was chosen to take care of Andrew.” Jon took her elbow and began propelling her toward the chauffeured limousine waiting at the side of the tarmac. “And you’re not so bad at taking on challenges yourself, love. You married me.”
 
“And never regretted it,” Elizabeth added. “Not for a minute.” She glanced over her shoulder, but the Learjet was lost to sight. “We are doing the right thing, aren’t we Jon? He’s so little, and life hasn’t been easy for him.”
 
“I know.” He opened the door of the limousine for her. “It will never be easy for him; he’s too much like you.” His gaze gravely met hers. “But we can try to make it better; we can try to make him whole. Gunner has made all the arrangements. All we can do now is wait.”
 
“Wait …” Elizabeth knew it was going to be a long, tense period even with Jon supporting her. “Well, at least Andrew will be able to live at Mill Cottage for a few months, even if I’m not with him. I’ve always wanted him to see my old home. Where is this Swensen woman supposed to join them?”
 
“The Learjet is picking her up in Zarbondal. She’s just resigned a position caring for the son of the prime minister.” He grimaced. “I’d say she was leaving just in time. I understand the government is collapsing and the members of the cabinet are running for their lives. She’ll probably be grateful for the tranquility of Mill Cottage after the last two years. Zarbondal has been a hotbed of turmoil during her entire stay there.”
 
“Why didn’t she leave?”
 
“The child needed her.” Jon met her gaze. “He was deaf and had withdrawn into an almost catatonic state.”
 
Elizabeth stiffened. “And she helped him?”
 
“She helped him. He’s adjusting very well now.” Jon leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “And she’ll help Andrew too. She’s a strong, sensitive woman. Trust her.”
 
“I’m going to try.” She leaned back against him, loving the solid warmth and security of his muscular body, loving him. If he trusted Quenby Swensen, then she must trust her too. She knew Jon loved Andrew as much as she did and wanted only the best for him. “I just hope she knows what she’s getting herself into. What did you tell her when you offered her the position?”
 
“Nothing much. I left it to Gunner’s discretion.”
 
“Discretion? Gunner?” She slowly shook her head. “The poor woman is in for a rude shock.”
 
The man had to be totally mad.
 
Quenby was mesmerized with horror as she gazed out the window at the tall man dashing across the tarmac, dodging a spate of machine-gun bullets from the two men on the roof of the terminal building. He had to be crazy to take chances like this.
 
She had watched the white Learjet land against orders from the guerrillas holding the control tower and then take off again, leaving the golden-haired man standing alone on the runway. She had known he had no chance, that he was going to be killed before he reached the terminal, shot down before her eyes. Incredibly, not one bullet had touched him … yet. He was zigzagging, dodging bullets as a matador would dodge a bull’s sharp horns, finding protection behind baggage trucks and fork lifts until he finally reached the door of the terminal.
 
He flung open the door, sending it smashing against the wall. He was out of breath, his white-gold hair disheveled, a smear of oil on the knee of his jeans. His blue eyes were shining with excitement and vitality as they searched the crowd. He was quite probably the most handsome man she had ever seen. His good-looking features were set off by a deep tan, and his fair hair shimmered under the rays of the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows of the terminal. Dressed in jeans and a black leather flight jacket, his tall, slim body appeared arousingly tough and muscular. “Quenby Swensen?” he shouted. “Is Quenby Swensen here?”
 
Oh, no, it couldn’t be … The agency had said Jon Sandell would send a man to pick her up and share the guardianship of his son for the summer, but surely it couldn’t be this reckless daredevil. “Yes.” She stepped forward. “I’m Quenby Swensen.”
 
“Gunner Nilsen.” He started to cut his way through the crowd toward her. “I was sent to pick you up and take you to Albany. I was hoping you’d still be here. I thought maybe the prime minister had decided to take you with him when he and his family fled the country.”
 
She shook her head. “They left the country last night with the rest of the cabinet. None of the staff were permitted on the flight.”
 
Gunner frowned. “They just left you here, with the whole country going up in flames?” He stopped before her. “With the airport closed and held by the revolutionaries?”
 
“The airport wasn’t closed last night. The revolutionaries took it over just a few hours ago,” she answered defensively. “No one realized I’d be in any danger if I waited another day.”
 
“If they had any brains in their head, they had to know there was a chance of your being hurt or captured,” he said dryly. “Your former employers don’t seem overly concerned about your welfare.”
 
“They were afraid,” she said simply. “They’re good people, but their lives were falling apart around them. You can’t blame people for being afraid under those circumstances.” She added deliberately, “Only crazy people risk their lives. I never saw anything so foolhardy in my life as you running across that tarmac. Why did your plane land when the tower must have told you the airport was closed?”
 
His sapphire-blue eyes twinkled. “I’m only a humble employee like yourself and I was told to stop here and pick up Quenby Swensen. No one said anything about dropping the pickup if the airport was closed. I just had to operate on my own initiative.”
 
Humble employee? Quenby had an idea there was nothing humble about Gunner Nilsen, and she doubted if any “employee” would have the authority to risk a Learjet worth a small fortune on a reckless whim. “Well, it was very stupid,” she said bluntly. “You could have been killed for no good reason.”
 
His smile faded as he studied her face. “And do you always have to have a good reason for everything you do?”
 
“I try to be sensible,” Quenby said. “I was brought up to recognize the practicalities of life.”
 
A brilliant smile lit the bronze darkness of his face. “Perhaps you recognize them, but I think you ignore them on occasion,” he said softly. “Why else would you be stranded in the middle of a revolution? There must be safer positions open to a woman of your qualifications.”