Alana

by Barrie, Monica

  Alana whirled, her hand going automatically to her throat. Tension swirled thickly in the air as she found herself once again staring at Rafe Montgomery. Just his nearness seemed to rob her of her voice.

  “Is it true?” Rafe asked.

  “Is what true?”

  “That you’re marrying him from obligation?”

  Alana stiffened, and her mouth grew into a tight line. “You were eavesdropping!” she charged.

  “No,” he said truthfully, “I was on my way downstairs and heard the two of you talking.”

  Alana didn’t respond; instead, she turned from him. Before she could take another step, his hand was on her bare shoulder. Heat scorched her skin. Spinning to face him, she dislodged his hand. Before she could speak, he did.

  “You haven’t answered me.”

  “Nor do I intend to. The matter is between Jason and myself.”

  “My apologies, Miss Belfores,” Rafe said with a slight bow.

  Alana, her body stiff, inclined her head to him and again started toward the dining room. Upon entering it, she glanced around. The large chandelier was missing, as were the paintings, but the long oak table still glowed with years of oiling, and the china looked as new as it had fifty years before when her grandmother had brought it to the house.

  A candelabrum lit the table, and on each wall of the room several candles burned in sconces. The table was set for three: Jason’s place at the head, hers at the far end, and Rafe Montgomery’s in the center of the right-hand side.

  A decanter of burgundy sat on the table; the reflection of candlelight upon its surface was like a dark flame. Rafe stood unmoving behind her. She heard footsteps and turned to see Ben pushing Jason in his wheeled chair.

  A few moments later, they were seated around the table in silence. Alana forced herself to speak. Instead of addressing Jason, she turned to their guest.

  “I must thank you for helping Jason to return home.”

  Rafe’s gaze went from Alana to Jason. “No thanks are necessary.” His face was an unreadable mask.

  Jason laughed, and Alana heard the sorrow within it. Then he looked at Alana. “Rafe had been offered transport to California. He refused it, didn’t you, Rafe?”

  Rafe sat silently, wondering what senseless game Jason was now playing.

  “He refused it because I asked him to come with me. I was afraid of coming home. Afraid of facing you. Afraid of what I would see on your face when you learned I am but half a man.”

  Alana, gripping her crystal goblet in her hand, tried to remain calm, but every word he spoke was like a gunshot. The stem of the wineglass snapped suddenly, and a spray of red liquid spilled outward.

  Before the sound of breaking glass faded in the dining room, Rafe was at Alana’s side, examining her hand to see if she had been hurt.

  “Only a scratch,” she said lightly. Pulling her hand free from his, she staunched the light flow of blood with her napkin. Try as she might, she could not take her eyes from Rafe’s, nor ignore the lingering feeling of the way his hand had moved on hers while he had checked the cut.

  When Rafe returned to his seat, his face was stiff, and his eyes were hard as he looked at Jason. “Are you finished playing the martyr yet?” His voice was harsh, but after two years of dealing with Jason’s black moods, he knew how to get through to the man.

  Jason suddenly smiled. “For now. Alana,” he called. His voice was soft, almost gentle. “Forgive me, I am truly sorry.”

  Alana nodded slowly and tried to understand Jason’s sudden shifts of mood. But Lorelei’s entrance with the meal saved her from having to speak. Tense silence soon returned to the room.

  Halfway through the meal, the silence grew torturous to Alana. Glancing at Rafe, she saw that he was intently studying his plate.

  “Which division of the army did you serve in, Mr. Montgomery, before your capture?”

  “Rafe,” he said as he put down his fork and looked at her. His chest grew tight, his emotions heavy.

  “Rafe,” she agreed.

  “Treachery and misfortune were my army.”

  Alana sensed a dark undertone to his words and gazed at him while she tried to puzzle out his meaning.

  “It took me a long time to understand, but in the end I did.” Rafe looked absently at a sconce on the wall across from him. When his gaze settled back on Alana, she saw that his eyes were angry and haunted.

  “I was a supplier during the war. It was my misfortune to be captured by the Confederate army as I was en route to deliver supplies to the Federal army.”

  “You–you’re a Yankee? A profiteer?” she asked, shocked by this revelation.

  Rafe’s eyes hardened. “I’m neither a Yankee nor a profiteer. I am, like Jason, the owner of a shipping company." Rafe paused for a moment to look at Jason, whose eyes were once again vacant.

  “Unlike Jason’s, my ships plied the Oriental trade routes. With the coming of the war, I had agreed to supply the Federal troops. My fees included no profit, but covered only my costs of goods and shipping. I did not believe in this war at all, but I didn’t believe in slavery either.”

  “What happened?” Drawn more fully into the story than she had realized, she stared into Rafe’s eyes, the beating of her heart accelerated.

  “Usually I didn’t travel with any of my ships, but I received a special request from the minister of procurement for me to come to Virginia with the ship. He had urgent matters to discuss with me, of ‘the utmost importance to the war effort.’ Because of the wording of the letter, I had no chance to refuse. We were to meet a Federal transport ship and transfer the supplies off the coast. Somehow, the Confederate navy learned of the rendezvous. While we waited for the Federal ship to take on the supplies, we were attacked. I was taken prisoner and sentenced to be hanged as a spy.”

  “A spy?” Alana gasped. “But that’s not possible.”

  “I found out more before I was sentenced.” Rafe’s voice turned dark; his eyes clouded for a moment.

  “The date for my execution was set, but the night before, I managed to knock out my guard, steal a Confederate officer’s uniform, and begin my escape. However,” he said, shaking his head and smiling sardonically, “the camp was attacked by Federal troops just as I was escaping. In the ensuing bedlam, they thought me to be a Confederate officer. No matter how I tried to explain what had happened, the Federal soldiers refused to listen to me. I was sent to the Rockville prisoner of war camp.”

  “But for two years? They never once learned the truth?”

  “Two years, three months,” Rafe stated calmly. “When I finally convinced one of the officers in charge of the prison to check my name with the war department–especially with the minister of procurement–he came back to me, laughing. ‘I sent an inquiry as you asked, and I received a reply today. James Branch unequivocally states that he has proof of the death of Rafael Montgomery. The man you are impersonating was hanged as a spy by your own army!’

  “It was then that I had to face the truth. I had been betrayed,” Rafe stated, his eyes never leaving Alana. “James Branch had been the man who had signed my original contracts to supply the army. He could not have learned of my execution, for it had never happened. I realized he must have had advance knowledge of my fate. Obviously, there had been some kind of advance arrangement. That was when I accepted the fact that someone had arranged for my capture and death.”

  “But why?” Alana asked.

  “That is what I have to learn,” Rafe said.

  Alana shivered when she saw the determination within his eyes. “When will you leave for California?” For some reason, she was afraid to hear the answer to her question.

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Jason asked before Rafe could answer her.

  Both Alana and Rafe looked at him and saw that he had returned from wherever his mind had wandered.

  “That I should be befriended by a Yankee sympathizer,” he explained.

  “I would call that luck, not irony,” Alana
whispered.

  Jason shrugged his shoulders eloquently but said nothing more.

  Once again, silence reigned. Alana watched both Rafe and Jason savor their food. Although it wasn’t a large meal, it was a good one, and she could tell by their faces that it had been too long since they’d eaten properly.

  “Coffee and brandy are set in the salon,” Lorelei announced after the meal had ended.

  The moment Lorelei said it, Alana realized the mistake. “Have it brought in here,” she said.

  Then she gazed at Jason. “Are you comfortable?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he continued to gaze at her, his face immobile. “As comfortable as I’ll ever be.” A dark cloud seemed to spread across Jason’s face. A nerve twitched at the corner of his mouth, and he turned away for a moment.

  “Jason…” she began, but faltered.

  “Rafe,” Jason said suddenly, ignoring Alana’s call, “tell her she’s about to make a terrible mistake.”

  Angry, Alana stood, her hands grasping the edge of the table for support. “Damn you, Jason Landow, I’m not sixteen anymore! I have a mind of my own, and I know how to use it. I will not listen to any more of your self-pitying words. We will be married, and soon! This is not Mr. Montgomery’s problem, it’s our own. Don’t drag him into it.”

  “He already has been!” Jason spat. “I love you, Alana. I have for many years. Because I do, I have offered you your release. Think about having to care for a helpless man, unable to walk with you in the gardens, unable to share–”

  Alana fiercely cut off his words. “And who was it who cared for me when I was helpless, when I was about to lose everything? No, you won’t chase me away.”

  Jason exhaled slowly. “As you wish, Alana, but remember: You will regret this. ”

  “I will regret nothing!” Alana knew that it was true. She might have many regrets in her life, but marrying Jason would not be one of them.

  “Tell me that tomorrow.”

  “My answer will still be the same. Tomorrow I will send word to Reverend Latham that we would like him to marry us as soon as possible.”

  She turned to Rafe, and found his face unreadable. With a sudden insight, Alana intuitively knew that she needed Rafe Montgomery to be nearby, to be a buffer between them, until she married Jason. She realized that there was danger in this, but she accepted the fact that she needed the strength that Rafe exuded with every breath he took.

  “You will stay for the wedding?”

  Rafe drank in the subtle lines of her face as if he were savoring a rare wine. Desire rose within him, and he made himself wait before he answered. He looked at Alana and then at Jason.

  Concealing his thoughts, Rafe forced his voice to remain emotionless. “I must return to California.”

  Jason stiffened; his eyes turned wild. “Stay with me until the wedding. You are my friend, and I would have you stand up for me.”

  Rafe slowly shook his head, but Alana would not let him speak. She had watched him and had seen the brief slippage of his mask.

  His face was a study of smooth lines and determined angles. It was a face she did not want gone in the morning. “Please, Rafael,” she whispered, using his full name for the first time, “do this for Jason.”

  Rafe looked at her. The need burning in his chest threatened to tear him apart. Slowly, carefully, he moistened his lips. He knew he had to refuse. He must leave in the morning and never look back. But the plaintive look on Alana’s face and the moist blue depths of her eyes cut through his protests. In that instant

  Rafe knew that he would never be able to refuse her anything she asked.

  “All right,” he said in a low voice, looking at Jason, not Alana.

  Lorelei entered the dining room with a tray and started toward the table. Before she reached it, Jason, wincing, shook his head. “I must take my medication.”

  Alana started to rise, but Rafe waved her back. “I will see to it,” Going to Jason’s chair, he pulled Jason away from the table. “I’ll be back shortly,” he promised as his eyes locked with hers.

  As he wheeled Jason from the dining room, he heard Alana tell Lorelei to return the coffee and brandy to the salon.

  It took Rafe ten minutes to get Jason settled in bed and to measure out the laudanum. While he worked, he explained everything he was doing to Gabriel, who would be acting as Jason’s personal manservant. When he was finished, he stepped away from the bed and turned to Gabriel. “That will be all, thank you.”

  Gabriel silently left the library and Rafe fixed Jason with a probing stare. “Why?”

  “Why what?” Jason asked sourly, his features pinched from pain.

  “Don’t play games with me. Why are you acting like a self-pitying jackass? Why are you trying to hurt her?”

  “Perhaps I enjoy the part,” Jason replied sarcastically. Then his eyes changed. “Or perhaps after four years of waiting, I’m scared to death of the future.”

  “It will be whatever you make it. Jason, you still have your wealth–something that few southern gentlemen have. You have a beautiful woman who has been faithful to you and has waited for your return. You have land, and years of life ahead of you.”

  “You speak so eloquently, Rafe. I wonder if you could do the same without legs?”

  “We’ll never know, will we?” Rafe shot back, angry not at the question but at the inability of the man to see the good parts of life that awaited him.

  “Rafe,” Jason said, the lines of tension in his face easing as the laudanum took effect, “I don’t want to force her into having a cripple for a husband.”

  “You’re not forcing her into this. She’s a grown woman with her own mind. It’s her choice to make–don’t try to make it for her. She’s a strong woman, Jason.”

  “I know,” Jason replied, his voice faltering, his eyes closing. Rafe stayed at his side until he heard the familiar rhythm of Jason’s drug-induced sleep. Before he left the room, he placed his hand over Jason’s. “You are a fortunate man, for she is a special woman.”

  Turning, Rafe started from the room, knowing that he must speak with Alana and make her understand that he could not stay for the wedding. He could not watch the woman he loved go into a life of caring for a man who cared not for himself.

  4

  Alana sat on the salon’s faded brocade settee, her back to the large window that faced the Ashley River. A silver tray sat on the serving table; the aroma of coffee floated in the air. However, Alana did not notice the rising rich scent, nor did she see anything else in the room, for she was waging a battle with her confused thoughts.

  Ever since Rafe Montgomery had appeared, the world had seemed to be speeding by and her life careening madly along with it. The man she had known all her life had returned from the war a stranger, filled with bitterness and self-loathing. And the stranger she had met today seemed like someone she had known all her life.

  Although she had just met Rafe Montgomery, she instinctively accepted his strength. Something about Rafe that called out to her and drew her to him in a way she had never imagined possible. The very intensity of her emotions frightened her in a way that nothing had ever been able to do before.

  When he looked at her, she grew weak. When he touched her, her skin blossomed with new and exciting sensations. His voice sent a resonance through her, and whenever his eyes lingered on her face, it was like all the caresses she had never felt. It was exquisite, but it was alarming.

  For many years, Alana had been in total control of her life. She’d had to learn how to push aside her own emotional needs in order to do the things that were necessary. From the age of twelve, Alana had known she had a destiny to fulfill, a destiny that included Riverbend and, in time, Jason Landow. This destiny precluded Rafe Montgomery. There was no room in her life for anything other than Riverbend and the duties she had accepted–and especially no room for a weakness for a man.

  Alana bent her head, absently massaging her forehead with her fi
ngers. But she could not erase the image of Rafe, with his powerful body, his handsome face, and those endlessly deep green eyes, from her mind. Tendrils of heat spread through her body, a heat she had never experienced in all her twenty-two years of life, a slow burn she was helpless to control.

  ~~~~~~

  Rafe stood absolutely still within the doorway of the salon, watching Alana. While he had this chance to watch her unobserved, he took it greedily.

  He retraced the path of her form. Her raven hair was pulled back in a severe bun that, on anyone else, might have detracted but on Alana it only served to emphasize the regal beauty of her face. A vein beating slowly beneath the tanned surface of her graceful neck. His eyes followed the skin of her shoulders until it disappeared under the puffed sleeves of her dress.

  Then he retraced his path until his eyes rested on the swelling tops of her breasts, which the dress’s bodice could barely contain. He knew she wore no pretentious hoops and only a minimum of petticoats beneath the dress. That there was no corset he was positive, for he had been able to see the smallness of her waist without the telltale lines of braces.

  Her hips flared enticingly, and without being able to see her legs, he knew they would be slender, yet strong.

  Rafe stepped back from the doorway until his iron control over his thoughts and emotions was firmly in place. Only then did he move toward Alana. As he did, Alana lifted her head, and their eyes met.

  Rafe stopped five feet from her.

  Alana rose slowly, her mouth was dry, the palms of her hands suddenly moist. The tip of her tongue traced her lips and, in the candlelight, moisture glinted invitingly.

  “Thank you,” she said at last, “for helping with Jason.”

  “I’m used to it,” Rafe replied, stepping closer to her. “Alana,” he whispered in a voice deep and husky.

  Alana stared at him, unable to break the spell. But as he whispered her name again and his hand lifted toward her, she could no longer trust herself to look at him. Turning, she faced the window, her arms crossed beneath her breasts.

  Rafe accurately read her conflict and held himself back when she turned away. He studied the set of her shoulders and the soft curving lines of her body until his desire became a relentlessly crushing force.