“No!”
Alana’s voice shook, making a ragged cry out of the single word.
“Yes,” said Rafe flatly. “I killed Jack Reeves. And you remembered it.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Alana said quickly. “Stan was wrong. You didn’t come up the mountain planning to kill Jack and seduce me and—”
“But Jack’s dead,” Rafe interrupted. “I killed him.”
“You were saving my life!” Alana said, trying to understand why Rafe’s face was so closed, so remote.
Rafe shrugged.
“So it’s manslaughter, not murder one,” he said curtly. “Jack’s dead just the same.”
“It was an accident!” she cried fiercely. “I saw it, Rafe! I know!”
“Technically, yes, it was an accident,” Rafe said, his voice as controlled as his expression. “When I ducked, I didn’t know that Jack would go over the cliff.”
Alana let out a ragged breath.
“But there’s something about the fight that you still haven’t faced, Alana.” Rafe spoke slowly, clearly, leaving no room for evasion or misunderstanding. “When I saw Jack trying to kill you—after that instant, Jack Reeves was a dead man, walking. There was no way I’d let him leave the mountain alive.”
Alana’s eyes closed, but it wasn’t in horror at what Rafe was saying. It was the pain in him that made her flinch.
“You knew that,” Rafe said. “Yet you couldn’t stand knowing that the man you loved was a murderer. So you forgot. But not well enough. Somewhere, deep inside you, you knew. You didn’t trust me enough to marry me.”
“That’s not true!” said Alana desperately. “You saved my life! You—”
“It’s all right, wildflower,” Rafe said, cutting across Alana’s urgent words. “You don’t owe me anything. You gave it all back to me that night.”
“But—”
“When you were certain you were going to die, you screamed, but not for mercy or revenge. You called to me, telling me that you loved me. And you didn’t even know I was there. In those few seconds you wiped out all the bitterness that had been destroying me since I found out you were married.”
“Rafael,” she whispered.
“You don’t owe me anything at all. Certainly not trust.”
Alana looked at Rafe wildly.
“But I do trust you!” she cried.
Rafe’s mouth turned down in a sad travesty of a smile.
“I don’t believe you, wildflower.”
Before Alana could say anything more, Rafe turned toward the trail where his big spotted stallion stood patiently.
“We’d better go,” Rafe said. “Bob has probably found your note by now, and mine. He’ll be beside himself with worry.”
Rafe began walking toward his horse. After a few steps, he realized that Alana wasn’t following. He turned back and saw that she was still sitting on a rock very near the edge of the cliff.
“Alana?”
She sat motionless, watching Rafe, her eyes dark.
“I’ll need your help,” she said distinctly.
With a few swift strides Rafe was at Alana’s side. He knelt in front of her and began running his hands from her knees to her feet.
“Did you wrench your ankle again?” he asked. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” Alana said softly. “You’ll have to carry me.”
Rafe’s head snapped up.
He searched Alana’s eyes and her expression, afraid to breathe, to hope. Even when she had given herself to him in the moonlit cabin, he had not dared to lift her, to hold her helpless above the ground.
And now she was at the edge of the same cliff Jack had held her over, held her high above his head, getting set to throw her out into darkness and death.
Silently Alana held her arms out to Rafe.
He stood and looked down at her for a long moment. Then he bent and caught her beneath her arms.
Slowly Rafe lifted Alana to her feet, waiting for the first sign of fear to tighten her body. He held her almost level with him, her toes just off the ground.
She smiled and put her hands on his shoulders.
“Higher, Rafael. Lift me higher. Lift me over your head.”
“Alana—”
“Lift me,” she whispered against his lips. “I know you won’t let me fall. I’m safe with you, Rafael. You aren’t like Jack. You won’t throw my life away. Lift me.”
Rafe lifted Alana as high as he could, held her, watched her smile, felt her trust in the complete relaxation of her body suspended between his hands.
Then he let her slide slowly down his body until their lips met in a kiss that left both of them shaken, clinging to each other.
They rode the same way down the mountain, clinging to each other, whispering words of love and need. Rafe’s arms were wrapped around Alana and her hands were over his as he guided the big stallion along the trail.
Rafe was the first one to spot the plane bobbing quietly on the third lake.
“Sheriff Mitchell,” Rafe said. “Bob must have hit the panic button.”
Alana shrank against Rafe and went very still.
For the rest of the ride she was silent, her hands clinging to Rafe’s wrists, her mind racing as she tried to figure out ways to protect the man she loved.
No matter what Rafe says, he isn’t at fault for Jack’s death, Alana thought. Jack brought it on himself. Rafe doesn’t deserve to be punished for Jack’s selfishness, his murderous rage.
Yet Alana was afraid that was exactly what would happen.
Sheriff Mitchell was sitting on the porch of the lodge, his feet propped against the rail. When he heard the big stallion’s hoof strike a rock, Mitch looked up.
“I see you found her,” Mitch said, satisfaction in his voice. “Just like I told Bob you would.”
Alana spoke before Rafe could.
“My memory is back. Jack’s death was an accident, just like Rafe said. It was icy and Jack fell and I passed out from shock and cold.”
Mitch looked at Alana oddly. His homely face creased into a frown.
“That’s not what Rafe told me,” the sheriff muttered. “He said that Jack tried to kill you, they fought, and Jack ended up dead. Is that how you remember it?”
Alana made a helpless sound and looked over her shoulder at Rafe. He kissed her lips.
“I told Mitch everything when we rode back in to bring out Jack’s body,” Rafe said. “When we came off the mountain, you were gone.”
“But—but that’s not how the newspapers explained Jack’s death,” said Alana.
Mitch shrugged.
“Well,” the sheriff said, “I didn’t figure that justice would be any better served if we went to the hassle of arraigning and then acquitting Rafe on a clear-cut case of justifiable homicide.”
Alana’s breath caught. She turned and looked at the sheriff with hope in her eyes.
“And then there would have been reporters hounding you for all the bloody details,” the sheriff drawled, “what with Jack being such a famous son of a bitch and all. You didn’t need that. You were having a hard enough time staying afloat as it was.”
Alana let out a long sigh of relief.
“So I told the reporters the only truth that mattered,” the sheriff concluded. “In my opinion, Jack’s death was legally an accident.”
Mitch paused and looked at Alana, his gray eyes intent. “Unless you remember it some other way and want to change the record?”
“No,” Alana said quickly. “Not at all. I just didn’t want Rafe to be punished for saving my life.”
Mitch nodded. “That’s how I had it figured.”
He pulled out a pipe from his jacket pocket, struck a match, and held it to the bowl. He sucked hard a few times, then looked at the lake.
“Well, now,” Mitch said, changing the subject with finality, “what’s the fishing been like?”
Rafe tilted his head and kissed the nape of Alana’s neck.
“You�
�re too late, Mitch. I just caught the most beautiful trout on the mountain.”
Mitch grinned around a cloud of pungent smoke.
“Keeper size?” he asked dryly.
Rafe laughed and slid off the big stallion. When he was on the ground, he held his arms out to Alana.
She smiled and let him lift her out of the saddle. For a few moments he held her off the ground, enjoying the sensation of her body pressed against the length of his own.
“Definitely keeper size,” Rafe said.
Mitch laughed.
“Unless,” Rafe whispered too softly for Mitch to hear, “the trout doesn’t want the fisherman?”
Alana kissed Rafe gently, brushing her lips across his mouth as her fingers slid deeply into his thick hair, dislodging his Stetson.
The front door of the cabin slammed open.
“Mitch, when in hell are you going to—Alana! Are you okay?”
Mitch laughed. “Bob, are you blind? She’s never been better.”
Reluctantly Rafe released Alana so that she could reassure her brother.
“I’ve remembered,” she said, turning to face Bob. “And I’m fine. I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Hell, sis, it was worth it!” Bob turned to yell over his shoulder. “Stan! Janice! Alana’s got her memory back!”
There was a triumphant whoop from the cabin. Janice and Stan ran out onto the porch. Stan looked at Alana, wrapped securely in Rafe’s arms, relaxed and smiling, obviously not afraid.
Then Stan turned and gave Janice a thorough, hungry kiss.
Bob looked startled.
Rafe simply smiled.
“I think I’d better make a complete introduction this time,” Rafe said. “Bob, meet Mr. and Mrs. Stan Wilson.”
When Stan finally let go of Janice, she smiled.
“Now we can wash out the blond highlights and get rid of the blue contacts,” she said to Stan. “If I open my eyes, I feel like I’m kissing a stranger.”
Alana watched, speechless, as Stan removed his dark blue contacts, revealing eyes that were light green.
“Blond highlights?” asked Alana weakly.
“Yep,” said Janice, tugging on a lock of Stan’s fair hair. “I’m used to my man being a sun-streaked brown, not a California blond.”
“I don’t understand,” Alana said.
“I’m afraid you’ve been caught in a conspiracy,” said Janice gently. “But it was a conspiracy of love. When Rafe told me what had happened to you, I told him to give you a few weeks to remember on your own. Then he called again and told me you weren’t sleeping, weren’t eating, were having nightmares—”
“How did you know?” asked Alana, turning to Rafe.
“I told you, wildflower. You’re a lot like me.”
“In short,” summarized Janice, “you were tearing yourself apart. Rafe thought that if you came back here, you would see him and know that you were safe, that it was all right to remember what had happened. I agreed, so long as you came willingly. If you came back it would mean that you wanted to remember. That you wanted to be whole again.”
“Some travel agent,” Alana said dryly. Then, “Oh. You’re still a practicing psychiatrist, aren’t you?”
“One of the best,” said Rafe, his arms tightening around Alana. “Damn near every word we said in front of you was vetted by Janice first.”
“Not every word,” Janice said crisply, looking sideways at Stan. “I nearly choked my husband when I found out about the fight by the lake.”
Stan almost smiled. “Yeah, I know. I don’t take orders worth a damn. We’ve argued about Rafe a lot,” said Stan, flashing Alana a pale green glance. “I thought she was too gentle on Rafe after he got back from Central America. And then, when she couldn’t put him back together, it took two years for me to coax her into marriage.”
Janice looked surprised. “Two years! You only asked me out two months before we were married!”
“Yeah. So much for being subtle. I wasted twenty-two months tiptoeing around, thinking that you held it against me that I was the one who’d been wounded. If it wasn’t for me, Rafe would have flown out of the jungle with the rest of us.”
Rafe started to say something, but Stan cut him off.
“No way, buddy. I’m not finished. I thought you were being too gentle with Alana to get any results. Hell, I didn’t even know you had that much gentle in you! I’m still having a hard time believing that you’re the same man I worked with in Central America.”
Stan shook his head. “Anyway, I wanted to stir up Alana, to make her think. I didn’t believe you’d snuffed good old Jack to get Alana. If you’d wanted to do that, you wouldn’t have waited almost four years, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have been caught after you’d done it. You’re too smart for that.”
“Thanks . . . I think,” said Rafe dryly.
Alana looked from Stan to Janice to Rafe. Finally she gave her brother Bob a long, considering look. He flushed slightly.
“You aren’t mad, are you, sis?”
“Mad?” Alana shook her head. “I’m . . . stunned. I can’t believe that you knew about the whole conspiracy and kept it a secret. Old in-the-ear-and-out-the-mouth Bob. I’m impressed, baby brother.”
“It wasn’t easy. I thought I’d blown it more than once,” admitted Bob.
“We didn’t tell him everything,” Rafe said dryly. “Oh, he knew that he wasn’t trying to start a dude ranch, but that’s about it. He didn’t know that I’d worked with Stan and Janice before. He didn’t know that Stan was camouflaged as carefully as any lure I’d ever made. And he didn’t know that Janice was a practicing psychiatrist.”
“Well,” Mitch said, “I’d better get down the mountain before the light goes.”
“Can you fly back tomorrow?” asked Rafe.
“Sure. Need something in particular?”
“Champagne. A justice of the peace.”
Mitch smiled. “Somebody getting married?” Rafe looked at Alana, a question in his amber eyes.
“Damned right,” she said, putting her arms tightly around Rafe. “This time, the trout is landing the fisherman.”
19
A LANA STOOD BY the hearth in the small cabin, wearing only Rafe’s warm robe. She let the song fade from her lips, watching Rafe as he played soft notes on the silver harmonica.
He was stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, sensitive fingers wrapped around the harmonica as his lips coaxed beautiful music from it. He wore nothing but firelight, which clung and shifted with each breath he took. His hair gleamed like winter mink, alive with the reflected dance of flames.
Rafe looked up, sensing her watching him.
“Happy, Mrs. Winter?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Very happy.”
Alana took Rafe’s hand and curled up beside him, enjoying the hard warmth of his flesh beneath her cheek.
“Even though you haven’t remembered everything?” he asked quietly.
She looked at Rafe’s eyes, gold in the firelight, and wanted nothing more than to be loved by him.
“I don’t care anymore,” Alana said, “because I’m not afraid anymore.”
Rafe let out a long breath. Tenderly he traced the satin darkness of Alana’s eyebrow with his fingertip.
“Good,” he said softly. “I don’t think you’ll ever remember coming down the mountain. You were bruised, bloody, out of your mind with cold and shock.”
His eyes closed, as though he was afraid she would see too much looking into them.
“Frankly,” Rafe said in a low voice, “I’d forget it if I could. I loved you so much and I thought you were dying, that I’d come too late.”
“ ‘Come too late,’ “ Alana repeated. “You say that as though you knew I needed you.”
“I did.”
“How?” whispered Alana. “Why did you come to the highest lake when I was there with Jack?”
“I can’t explain it. I just . . . knew.”
Rafe look
ed at the harmonica for a moment before he carefully set it aside.
“The night before I rode up Broken Mountain,” he said, “I kept thinking I heard you calling me again and again. But that was impossible. I was alone at the ranch. Nothing but the wind. Yet by morning, I was wild, half crazy, certain that you needed me.”
Rafe blew out a long breath. “I had no choice but to ride up the mountain and find you, Alana. It was irrational, crazy, but I had to do it.”
“You weren’t crazy,” said Alana, trembling. “When Jack tied me and left me by the lake, I called for you all night long. I couldn’t help myself.”
Rafe’s breath came in sharply. He rolled over and faced Alana, touching her as though she were a dream and he was afraid of awakening.
“If only I hadn’t fought against it so hard,” he said in a low voice. “I should have come to you sooner.”
“It’s a miracle that you came at all. You hated me.”
“No,” he said, kissing Alana’s eyebrow, her eyelid, the corner of her, mouth. “I never hated you. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. We were tied too deeply to each other, no matter how far apart we were.”
“Yes,” she whispered, returning the tender kisses.
“That’s why I couldn’t ride away from you after we made love,” Rafe said, “even though I thought you didn’t trust me. Every time the wind blew down the canyon, I heard you calling me. I had to come back to you.”
Rafe’s fingertip traced Alana’s lips. “I love you more than you know, more than I have words to say.”
With slow, caressing movements, Rafe unwrapped the robe until Alana wore only firelight and the fine gold chain he had given to her. The elegant symbol of infinity gleamed in the hollow of her throat, speaking silently of love that knew no boundaries.
He gathered Alana close to his body, kissing her gently at first, then with a passion that was both restrained and deeply wild. She gave herself to the kiss, to him, melting in his hands, wanting him, loving him. He listened to the soft sounds that came from her, and he smiled.
“Yes,” Rafe whispered, “sing of your love for me, a lifetime of love. And after that . . .”
His lips touched the golden symbol at Alana’s throat, and he knew there would always be a song of love that knew no bounds.
Forget Me Not Page 24
