Alana (23 page)

When Denton stood before Ledoque, his eyes averted, Ledoque spoke. “Well?”

“She had dinner with the same man who left her room early this morning. After eating, they both went up to her room. They were still together when I left. He has taken the suite that adjoins Mrs. Landow’s.”

“Who is he?” Ledoque hissed. Blind rage built within him, blurring his vision with a red hate for both the man and the woman. How dare the bitch sleep with another man after refusing me, he thought irrationally.

“He is registered as Mr. Richard Sutcliff, sir.”

“Sutcliff?” Ledoque asked, taken aback.

“Yes, sir.”

“Could it be the same man?” he wondered aloud.

“Sir?” asked Denton.

“Never mind,” Ledoque ordered. “Return to the hotel. I want to know everything about this man–everything!”

“Yes, sir,” Denton replied.

After the detective had gone, Ledoque lit a cigar with angry, shaking hands. “Bitch!” he shouted.

The night and the next day flew by so rapidly that Alana could not believe the time had passed. When night came again, she greeted it happily, for she would soon be within Rafe’s arms, and nothing else mattered.

They spent a lovely two hours in the elegant hotel dining room, and when they’d finished eating, they went up to their separate rooms.

Because his suite adjoined hers, Rafe did not have to venture out into the hallway to come into her rooms. Instead, he just passed through the connecting door and a short passageway that was also part of the servant’s quarters.

Alana knew Rafe had arranged this for her benefit, so her reputation remained untarnished. Yet Alana herself did not care about her reputation; in the past months, she had learned the true value of that often-misused word.

Once inside her bedroom, with Chaco having dinner in his own room–Chaco, even with Rafe at Alana’s side, would not let her go anywhere unless he was near–Alana undressed, put on a long, light robe, and then brushed her hair. As she did, she thought about the past two days and the wonderful feeling of having Rafe by her side.

Alana realized her love for Rafe was growing stronger with each passing hour. Whenever Rafe would look at her, smile, or brush his fingers on her skin, she would begin to feel light-headed.

She could never have enough of him. Each time they made love, it was physically and emotionally overpowering, yet afterward she would find herself wanting him again, almost as soon as their breathing returned to normal.

The feel of his lips always lingered on her skin, and the hunger that was so much a part of her need for him continued to swell within her. They made love whenever they could, perhaps, she thought, because they were trying to make up for all the time they had been apart. Whatever the reason, Alana was almost happy.

Almost. Until Ledoque paid for what he had done, and Alana and Crystal avenged, she would not be totally at peace. With these thoughts swirling in her mind, Alana put down the brush. As she turned from the mirror, she found Rafe gazing at her.

Her startled gasp was quickly forgotten when she took in his presence. He wore the same pants he’d had on at dinner, but the matching vest and jacket were gone, and his linen shirt was open, revealing the dark mat of hair on his chest.

She was used to Rafe’s bearded face, but she could still picture his clean-shaven, strong features. Yet the beard served to highlight his eyes even more than before. Their emerald depths seemed to glow in contrast to the black frame of hair.

As she watched him, her breathing deepened and the familiar heat of her passion rose abruptly within her. Alana moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and silently advanced toward him.

Rafe studied the intent way that Alana was looking at him and felt the onset of desire flare between them. As she walked toward him, he saw the rise and fall of her breasts, outlined by her robe, and saw, too, the white flashes of her thigh that came with each step.

Then she was in front of him, her deep blue gaze searching his face, her moist, soft lips open and inviting. Lowering his mouth to hers, Rafe tasted the sweetness that she offered him.

When his arms went around her, her hands came between them. Tantalizingly, she opened his shirt. Then her mouth left his and trailed downward, skimming over the surface of his beard until he felt the gentle seeking warmth of her lips at the base of his throat.

Alana did not stop there. Her hands pushed the linen shirt aside, and her mouth greedily roamed the width of his chest. Rafe stood perfectly still against the wild coursing of his blood. When her lips captured his nipple, his hands tightened on her shoulders.

With the heat of her mouth sending little explosions through his chest, Alana drew away. Her eyes once again locked with his as she slipped the shirt from his shoulders. As it floated to the floor, her hands went to the waistband of his pants.

A few moments later, Rafe was sitting on the side of the bed, his eyes watching Alana, who stood two feet away.

Untying the sash of her light robe, Alana shrugged her shoulders. Rafe watched the material slide along her skin, taking an eternity before it fell free. When it finally did, he drank his fill of Alana’s magnificent body.

Stepping close to him, she looked down into his eyes. The love and desire within them only added to the excitement she felt. Dreamlike, she reached out, her hands going to his shoulders and gently pushing him back onto the bed.

When he was lying down, she joined him, her body draped over his, accepting greedily the tightness of his muscles against her own and the blazing heat that seared her length.

Then her lips moved passionately on his, her tongue darting into the warm cavern of his mouth to fleetingly touch his own.

Her hands wandered everywhere, caressing and stroking him until she felt the full length of his hardness press against her side. She moved sensuously over him, her mouth skipping across his chest, stopping to kiss and then nip gently at its soft, curly hair.

Following the narrowing line of hair until it thinned just below his waist, she ran her fingers through the denser hair at the base of his manhood.

Her lips were never still, and her hands followed suit. When her hand captured as much of his thickened length as she could, and its heat spread along her palm, she raised her lips from his lower belly to gaze in wonder at his rock-hard velvet staff.

It throbbed in her hand, and as it did, she realized that Rafe’s own hands and fingers were caressing her inner thighs and exploring intimately within her moist womanhood. Pinpricks of maddening pleasure shot through her with his touch, and as they did, she lavished his length with a series of slow, torturous kisses.

Releasing him suddenly, she turned, her lips darting upward until they were once again on his. She rose above him, her legs parting, her knees pressing against his sides. And then she lowered herself onto him, accepting his full, thrusting length within her.

When their tight curly hair mingled together, Alana held her body absolutely still, forcing herself to wait until the undulating waves of pleasure lessened.

She bent lower over him, her hips circling; her breasts crushed against his chest, her mouth buried at the meeting of his neck and shoulder.

Her body moved of its own volition, controlling both their movements as she lay atop him. She could feel the hair on his chest as it rubbed against her breasts and could feel the way her rigid nipples pressed into his skin.

Beneath Alana, Rafe accepted the pleasures she bestowed upon him, letting her lead them on this loving journey. He did not try to take command from her; rather, he gazed into her eyes, showing her his love and need.

Soon Alana began to move faster. She rose up slowly until she was again sitting astride him. Her head flung back, moving in perfect rhythm with her body. The dark waves of her hair bounced back and forth, and Rafe could feel their delicious tickle when her raven hair occasionally brushed the top of his thighs.

Above all, Rafe’s heart filled with love and pleasure as he watched her ride him, watched the way her breasts bobbed and her stomach muscles rippled. Alana’s dampened satin skin glowed in the low light of the oil lamps. Rafe’s eyes flickered across the twin peaks of her breasts, returning once again to her face as she carried them both upward into a shattering climax. Their breath exploded simultaneously, and Alana shouted out her love for him even as her body tensed upon his. A moment later, Alana, refusing to allow him to escape from within her, lowered her torso onto his and snuggled her face against his neck.

~~~~~

“The hell you say!” Ledoque roared.

Denton seemed to shrink back from Ledoque’s rage. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s exactly what I overheard.”

Ledoque shook his head slowly. It didn’t seem possible. “You’re sure she called him Rafael?”

“Yes, sir,” Denton replied. “As I said, I was sitting at the table next to theirs. They–” Denton paused, knowing his next words would elicit another angry response, but he knew if he wanted his pay, he had to speak. “They had just finished their main course, and Mrs. Landow reached across the table and took his hand in hers. She said, ‘Rafael Montgomery, I love you.’”

To Denton’s surprise, Ledoque said nothing, so he decided to continue. “The man, Sutcliff, tensed up and looked around to see if anyone was watching them. He never noticed me.”

“So.” The single word was like the hiss of a snake. “Richard Sutcliff is not who he says he is. But how does he know Alana Landow?”

“I don’t know. I heard many references about the war,” Denton added. “They talked a lot about that.”

“Very good, Denton,” Ledoque said. “You and your man are not needed any longer.”

Denton bowed his head obsequiously and left, glad that he had not had to bear the brunt of one of Ledoque’s famous rages.

In the study of the townhouse he always maintained in New York, Charles Ledoque’s anger knew no bounds. When he finally gained control over his temper, he stood, left the room, and called for his carriage.

Fifteen minutes later, at exactly ten o’clock, he entered the Wellington Club. Inside, he joined Allison in his private room and told him what he’d discovered. Allison, his features impassive after hearing that Sutcliff and Montgomery were one and the same man, spoke in a level but deadly voice.

“By tomorrow morning, Rafael Montgomery will no longer exist.” After uttering his lethal proclamation, he called for two more drinks and smiled coldly at Ledoque.

“Charles,” Allison said a moment later, his tone thoughtful. “While you’re, ah–satisfying yourself with the Landow woman, I would like you to learn what the connection is between her and Montgomery. It’s too much of a coincidence.” Allison let his words trail off.

Ledoque, his eyes dark and alive, ran his tongue across his large lips. “You can be certain I shall,” he promised.

~~~~~

At eight thirty in the morning, Chaco stood just inside the door of his small room, situated off the passageway between Alana’s suite and Rafe’s. For Chaco’s purpose, it was the perfect location.

The short hallway opened into the sitting room of each suite. Except for the servants’ entrance, which was near the rear staircase of the hotel, the only other entry to the hotel suites was through either sitting room.

From the moment he had met Rafe, Chaco had detected something very familiar about the man. He had seen for himself the love Rafe had for Alana, and he was not concerned for her safety when Rafe was with her.

He also did his best to stay alert when they were together, for at that time, more than any other, Alana and Rafe were vulnerable. Nevertheless, while he thought about those things, the nagging sense of knowing Rafe stayed with him.

A few minutes later, Rafe emerged from Alana’s bedroom and went toward his suite. Chaco started to back into his room, but Rafe called his name.

Chaco looked at Rafe and waited for him to speak.

“Has Alana told you what I am doing?” he asked.

Chaco shook his head no. From what he had heard of Alana and Rafe’s conversations, he believed that Rafe’s activities were similar to those of Alana and Crystal.

“I am in a very dangerous situation. And I may have put Alana in danger, too.”

Chaco signed a question, but Rafe did not understand it. Strangely, Chaco saw a flash of sadness in the man’s green eyes.

“I wish I had learned to sign,” he told Chaco. “My sister used to teach children to speak that way. Chaco, no matter what, just watch over Alana.”

Chaco nodded once, and Rafe went into his suite.

Chaco’s mind worked furiously on what he had just learned. Because Chaco had spent his life listening to people and not speaking, he had unconsciously developed a special sense. The way a person spoke and the inflections the person used told him a multitude of things. What he’d heard in Rafe’s voice, Chaco realized, was a familiar pattern–the same basic pattern of speech and intensity of words that Crystal Revanche used.

Before Chaco could pursue that thought, he heard the doorknob in Rafe’s suite turn. Moving quickly, he went to the connecting door and pulled it closed, leaving just enough space so that he could see what was happening. When the sitting room door opened, a small, wiry man slipped quietly inside. Chaco stood tensely as the man paused, motionless, to listen for any sounds.