Alana (8 page)

“I thinks you be right!” Alana said, mimicking Lorelei’s dialect as she used to do when she was a little girl.

“Hush now!” Lorelei ordered, but her words were softened by the smile on her face as she left the room.

Alana nibbled at the food on the tray, but she was still not hungry. When she finished all she could, she rose and went to the window that overlooked the garden, staring at the starry sky for a long time.

A crescent moon hung in the heavens, and though its light was faint, it reflected on the whitewashed roof of the gazebo. The longer Alana looked out at the clear and quiet night, the more she wanted to walk outside in the softly scented air. She listened intently for sounds in the rest of the house, but all was silent. By now, Lorelei and the others would be asleep.

Feeling suddenly trapped within her room, Alana decided to try to calm her troubled thoughts by taking a short walk. It was impulsive, she knew, but if she went to the gazebo she was certain no one would see her.

~~~~~

Rafe sat on the veranda smoking a cheroot. He was a fool, on a fool’s errand, he told himself as he blew a stream of smoke skyward. From the moment he had left the prison camp with Jason, the course of his life had changed.

Jason. Rafe was worried about his friend. In the beginning, all he had worried about was keeping Jason alive. Now that Jason was as healthy as he would ever be, Rafe was concerned about how the man would live the rest of his life. At his worst, he was a demanding, self-pitying person filled with hatred that struck out in random directions. At rare times the bright, articulate man who Jason had once been, escaped from the barriers he had erected. The problem was that those times were becoming less and less frequent.

What will happen when they marry
? Rafe asked himself pointlessly. He knew there was no answer, not for him, for Alana, or even for Jason. Only time held the answer–and Rafe’s time with Alana was almost at an end.

The thought of losing her was unbearable. Standing swiftly, Rafe tossed the cigar away and walked to the steps leading from the veranda.

He paused only when he reached the start of the garden path, then he walked aimlessly forward, letting his feet choose the direction he would follow.

As it happened, he took the far left path, the one that circled the entire garden. While he walked, he did his best to let the night sounds soothe his nerves. He refused to think of Alana and instead thought about San Francisco and what awaited his return.

When he had embarked on his ill-fated voyage, he had left his sister in charge of the shipping company. At the time, Elizabeth–a bright, intelligent woman who had learned the shipping business at the same time as he–had been twenty-three.

Rafe knew that the family business was in competent hands, but a gnawing worry had always interfered with that thought. None of the letters he wrote while in prison had ever been answered. He had figured that the mails hardly ever got through–if the prison guards had allowed the letters out in the first place, which they always assured him they did.

Who was behind his arrest? Rafe wondered for the ten-thousandth time. Who had arranged for his death, and why? What had happened after he “died”?

Stop
! he ordered himself. His circular thinking was futile. Nothing would be settled until he arrived in San Francisco and went to his offices.

Rafe paused in his stroll to look up at the moon. Only a few clouds rode the sky, shining silver-white as they passed beneath the glowing crescent. He gazed at the stars for a moment before again following the pathway without caring where it led. He did not realize he had reached the white-roofed gazebo until he almost walked into it.

With the awareness of where he was, he saw a ghostly white shape sitting within the lattice walls, illuminated by the rays of the moon.

“Alana,” he whispered.

~~~~~

Alana lost herself to the night, concentrating on the sounds of nature that filled the sweetly scented air. Gone were her thoughts of the future and of the years ahead that she would spend with Jason. Vanished too were thoughts of the wanton desire that Rafe brought out in her.

Memories of better times helped to ease her torment, but she could not bear to linger upon them. Shifting on the divan, Alana smiled as she remembered those early summer nights when, as a child, she had begged and cajoled Lorelei to let her sleep on this very divan instead of in her bedroom. Lorelei had slept on a feather comforter near her.

She had loved to spend those peaceful minutes before sleep looking up at the sky through the circular opening in the center of the gazebo. And for a few moments, Alana was able to escape the present in happy memory.

Then she heard a sound that was not part of the night. She froze for an instant, lifting her head and looking at the entrance to the gazebo.

Her breath caught. Her heart thudded so loudly, she thought it would explode as Rafe stepped into the gazebo.

Even in the shadows, the smooth, handsome lines of his face stood out. The aura of his masculinity surrounded her and tantalized her with its musk. Although it was night and no lanterns glowed, Alana could see Rafe’s massive chest and the tense muscles that played beneath his partially open shirt. When he spoke, his voice was soft but determined.

“I didn’t follow you, Alana, but neither will I leave now that I’m here.”

Alana’s
head was light; everything solid around her was falling away. Her breathing deepened and heat spread through her body.

“Please, I want you to leave.” As she spoke, she heard the falseness of her own words.

“Stand up, Alana. Come to me.”

Her body and heart overrode her mind’s intentions. She suddenly knew what must happen, for her future was to be made out of the memories of the past.

Her arms were outstretched as she rose; her heart thudded, and she feared that in her dreamlike state the muscles in her legs would collapse.

But he too was moving, and although time itself had seemed to stop, Rafe reached her and drew her into his arms. Their mouths met; their arms went around each other. They took the first step into a new world, one which only they could enter.

Fire lanced through Alana’s body; her hips pressed to his with wanton urgency. Her mouth opened; fire and ice flowed simultaneously through her veins. Little explosions of desire burst within her breasts as they pressed upon his chest.

She felt him swell against her; his heat was a burning brand separated from her only by their clothing. Then she was being lifted, and her mouth was torn from his. Her eyes opened to stare into the endless green depths that mirrored her own need.

The crazy spinning of the world steadied as Rafe lowered her to the cushioned divan in the center of the gazebo beneath the circular opening of the roof.

Rafe’s lips returned to hers, and their fiery taste was a nectar she had never imagined. Her hands moved freely, racing along his back until they reached upward and wove into the thickness of his hair. Her fingers caught his jet and silver hair and pulled it harshly, forcing his mouth harder upon hers.

Their tongues danced together as Alana’s passions rose. Her blood raced madly, and her desires dictated her every move. When Rafe drew away, Alana cried in despair and looked pleadingly up at him.

“Don’t rush, my love,” he said gently. “Our time is too short for that. We must learn each other while we may.” As he spoke, his hands went to the bodice of her dress, and for the first time since they had come together that night she felt an icy tentacle of fear.

When her eyes clouded, Rafe smiled softly. “There is nothing to fear in love,” he promised while his fingers unlaced the bodice and separated the material.

With the first whisper of air on her breasts, Alana closed her eyes and lay back. She cried out an instant later when his heated lips took one already-rigid nipple.

Rafe tasted the sweet satin of her breast and ran his tongue along the velvet tip of her nipple. Blood rushed to his head, making him swim within the sea of his desire. His hands caressed her full breasts.

A raging fire burned within the breast that Rafe lavished with his mouth, and Alana’s body arched closer to him.

Then his mouth was gone, but the flames roared on. Opening her eyes, Alana saw him gazing at her. The moonlight filtering through the opening above cast down an iridescence upon his features, which took her breath away. Love and desire blazed from his handsome face. She saw the promise of a love that would be eternal; a giving of himself that would never leave her as long as she lived.

“Rafe,” she whispered, her voice made low and throaty by the forces driving her, “I love you.”

Rafe’s chest rose and fell powerfully. Muscles bunched in his neck; his breath exploded outward with her words. “As you are mine, I am yours,” he promised.

Alana reached up to him, cupping his face within her palms to draw him to her. She knew he could taste her tears within her mouth, but it did not matter, for they were tears of joy and love.

After a slow and loving kiss that overflowed with tenderness, Rafe pulled free and stood. Without taking his eyes from Alana, he slid her nightdress from her. His hands were gentle as they worked the material free.

In the silence of the gazebo, hearing only the magnified night sounds, Alana bathed within the warmth of Rafe’s unguarded inspection and glowed from the wordless praise she read on his face.

Even as he gloried in her nakedness, Alana herself drank in the tall masculine beauty that towered above her. Passion and need stirred powerfully inside her, and tendrils of burning bur-rowed deep within her. Her stomach was tight with want, her thighs tense, and her entire body alive with expectation.

When his shirt was gone, she let her eyes roam across his chest, taking in the dark curled hair that spread in wild profusion. The two dark, perfect circles of his nipples were hard and peaked, yet beneath the denseness of his hair, she could see the finely etched lines of his muscles. Alana’s gaze trailed downward while Rafe’s hands worked at the waistband of his pants.

There, where the mat of hair thinned, she saw the lines of muscles coalescing into the narrowness of his hips. Then her eyes trailed further downward as he kicked off his pants.

Her gasp echoed in the night when she saw the ramrod straightness of his manhood standing proudly before him–an arrow of desire she knew would soon be hers. She tried, but could not tear her eyes away from its largeness; Alana felt both a chill of excitement and a flash of fear.

Then she wrenched her eyes from the awesome sight and once again met his look as he came toward her. The gentle strength of his face pushed away her fear. Then he was with her, lying next to her on the divan. The heat from his body reached hers, stoking the flames higher and higher beneath her skin. She luxuriated in the hardness of his body; the subtle play of his tight muscles was but another caress that sent her mind soaring on the dizzying heights of welcome passion.

Quickly, Alana’s world shrank until it contained only herself and Rafe. Surrounding them was a symphony of sound, a concerto played for their ears only. The owl called out in the night, and the insects accompanied him with a whispering chorus in the background. Just outside the gazebo, a nightingale sang its sweetly sad song, and the melody raced through Alana’s mind and heart.

Yet too soon, those sounds disappeared as her ears shut out everything except the sound of their breathing and the beating of their hearts.

His mouth scorched hers, his hands roamed and caressed–lightly at first, more passionately when their kisses deepened. Her body vibrated when his fingers strummed its length, and when he again caressed her breasts, a low moan built within her throat.

Her hands too were moving, roving over the broadness of his back, tracing the lines of his muscles, racing butterfly-quick along his sides while exploring and learning about the man she loved.

When his mouth left hers, she felt loss. When his lips pressed upon the throbbing vein in her neck, she discovered joy. Then his lips explored her chest, tracing a path to one breast, going across to nip gently at her nipple and then fleeing, only to reach the other breast and take its hard tip within the warm comfort of his mouth.

This time when Rafe slowly withdrew from her breast, he looked into her eyes. “You are perfection, my love. You have the scent of love on your skin, a scent that arouses all within me.”

Alana reeled with his words, her head light, and her heart singing his praise. “Love me, Rafe. Teach me so that I may never forget. I–I must have you, all of you,” she whispered.

“You have, my sweet love, since the day I arrived.” He bent close to her and let his lips and tongue caress her flat stomach. His fingers slid along her length, caressing and teasing her silken thighs while his mouth journeyed through the triangular line of downy soft hair.

His fingers lulled her even as they excited her. Sparks of lightning raced along her legs; her muscles trembled with every glancing touch. When his fingers grazed the portal of her womanhood, she gasped in astonishment. A probing finger caressed the moist entrance for only a moment before slipping deliciously within. Her hips arched and her thighs closed involuntarily on his hand. All movement ceased, but a heartbeat later, Alana willed her muscles to relax when gentle warmth emanated from where his fingers rested.

She cried out when he explored deeper. Sharp lances of pleasure grew from his touch until he drew back his hand and shifted his body. Alana looked at him, and then raised her hand to trace her fingers through the hair on his chest. When she touched his nipple and felt its stiff peak, she could not stop herself from lavishing it with moist kisses.

His hands went into her hair, grasping it tightly as she kissed him, and when he loosened his hold, her intake of breath was long and shuddering.

Then he was laying her down again, kissing her, and moving above her. Without Alana’s realizing what was happening, her body led where her thoughts feared to go. When Rafe settled above her, his eyes caressing and loving her, her legs opened and she instinctively raised her knees on each side of him.

Their eyes locked together, the intensity of their emotions a solid force between them. Before Alana could fully prepare herself, the burning tip of his erection entered her.

With its first branding touch, Alana’s back arched; her head tossed back and her eyes were wide open, and as she saw the crescent moon fill the opening of the roof, a sharp pain shattered the pleasures of her passion.

Her fingers curled and her nails dug into the skin of his back, commanding him to stop but not to withdraw. Heat rose from their joining as the hot velvet rod that was within her throbbed but did not move.

“Slowly, my love,” Rafe whispered. “First there is pain, and then there is joy.”

Even as he spoke, the waves of pain were leaving, and a warm wetness came from deep within her to flood the inner recesses of her body and to cover the thrusting hardness that was Rafe.

Suddenly her hips moved in an ageless pattern that she could not control. Upward and down they moved, slowly rotating in an effort to draw him deeper within her sweet confines. Yet she was aware that Rafe himself did not move. His muscles trembled against her, while he held himself up with his arms, waiting for her to acclimate herself to him.

Then the movements of her hips became faster. Her back arched again when his length filled her completely. Her fingers pressed into his back as a rain of pleasure assaulted her. He lowered himself completely onto her, crushing her breasts to his chest as his hands went around her.

She felt the strength of his hands when one raised her molded roundness, lifting her and pushing her harder against him while the other hand went to the small of her back, supporting her, making it easier to accept his largeness. Then she could no longer think as her passion released itself totally, and her body shuddered uncontrollably with pleasure.

Her eyes snapped open, and she saw her passion reflected within his–a passion that she knew instinctively would never dim. All too soon another force gripped her with its fierceness, an energy so powerful it turned her breath into loud, groaning gasps.

“Oh, Rafe!” she cried. “I–Help me, Rafe, help me!” Then she was swimming in a tornado that sent her spinning upward into the star-filled heavens while her legs locked around his narrow hips and her nails raked the flesh that covered his muscles. “I love you, Rafe. Dear God, how I love you!” she cried.

As she spun within the mists created by love and passion, the anchor of reality that was Rafe pulled her back. While the spasms of her love rippled through her body, she felt him grow harder, hotter, and larger within her. Suddenly, when she could stand no more, she felt his explosion, felt his body rocked by the passions that he shot forth into her. As the burning liquid of his love poured within her, and his body eased and rested upon hers, the darkness of the night stole into her mind.

But that darkness could not withstand the truths she had found this night, and as Rafe’s hand gently stroked her cheek, Alana looked at him.

“Sweet Alana, you are the treasure of my life,” he told her.

She could still feel his length within her and felt gentle satisfaction, and though their passion had abated, they were still one.

“I–” she tried to speak, but the heaviness of her breathing blocked the words.

Rafe waited, his hand on her neck, softly caressing her skin. He shifted, and Alana unlocked her legs reluctantly. He drew slowly from within her, but when he moved from atop of her, he did not rise up; instead, he turned them both on their sides, her arms still around him, and his hand still on her cheek.

“I have never thought myself capable of such feelings,” she admitted before burying her face in the joining of his neck and shoulder so he would not see her tears.

“Until tonight you were but the mistress of Riverbend. Now you are a woman first and mistress of your lands second. And Alana,” Rafe said, using his hand to force her to face him, drinking in the pure essence of the radiant beauty that had been unleashed this very night, “I have never known a woman such as you, nor will I ever again.”

She tried to pull away but could not summon the willpower to leave the comfort of his arms. “What have we done?” she whispered.

“What we were destined to do. I could not live without having known you, no matter what the cost.”

Alana’s fingers traced along Rafe’s back. His words reverberated within her mind until she too realized that they were but an echo of her own heart’s desire.

“I will carry both shame and love into my marriage,” she said sadly, “but I shall also carry the knowledge that I have loved as few have ever done.”