Alana

by Barrie, Monica

  Her mouth flowed downward, her lips and tongue making a damp outline of his finely etched muscles. Explosions of fire burst within him, but he willed himself to stay still and not to hold her back. While her hands caressed every inch of skin, his body responded to the love she lavished upon him.

  A muscle trembled in his inner thigh when her fingers stroked it ever so gently. His hardness grew, pressing against the leanness of her abdomen. The heated points of her nipples seemed to burn holes into his skin, and her hands threatened to chase the last vestiges of sanity from his mind.

  Alana was caught within the magic of Rafe’s body, the taste and feel of which drove her on. She was lost to time as the exciting reality of his flesh became hers.

  Her lips traced paths everywhere, crossing beneath his stomach as she teased and bit at the fine hair that covered his torso, relishing the taste of his skin and the hair that tickled her nose.

  Her hands stroked his thighs gently, but soon they were pressing harder against him as she tried to grasp her fill of him. Lower yet, her hands wandered, and as she traced the outlines of his calves, her breasts rubbed across his arching hardness.

  Like a burning rod laid against the sensitive skin of her breasts, Alana had to bite her lip for an instant to stifle her surprised cry.

  Then slowly she retraced her path, and when her hands reached the top of his thighs, she paused to look down at him.

  Her breath, already forced, seemed to become even more ragged. The flickering light made his manhood glow as it arched proudly before her. Gently, she grasped it with one hand and felt the silky smoothness of his throbbing member. Bending her head, she tasted the tight skin just below his navel.

  She felt his body arch beneath her, while her hand stroked him, rising along his length, then slowly returning back until it rested in the bed of curled hair that was its base.

  Rafe accepted the pleasure she bestowed upon him, even as his hands went into her thick raven mane and tried to bring her back to him, but Alana would not respond to his urging.

  When he eased his grip on her hair, Alana moved closer to the pulsing staff she held trapped in her hand. Even as she caressed its hardness, her lips met the joining of skin and hair, and an explosion of fire spread through Rafe.

  Her lips moved upward, bestowing glancing, moist kisses upon him, while her other hand found the heavy sack between his legs and caressed that with the most gentle and fleeting of touches.

  Alana shuddered at the pleasure she felt Rafe accepting, and within her even more love began to come forth. There was no part of him that she was afraid to touch, to kiss, or to love. She was being driven by a need that pushed aside any hesitation, any doubt, and that made her and her love the most powerful force in the world.

  Then Alana stopped what she was doing and raised her head to look at him. She saw Rafe’s eyes locked on hers, and she felt the flood of love that came from him.

  Moving through the fog that was both desire and love, she released her hold upon him and went into his arms. She stayed above him, pressing her entire length upon him, as he had done with her last night.

  Alana felt the powerful hardness pressing against her lower abdomen, felt heat radiating from its velvet smoothness even as a matching moistness began to flow from within her.

  Her mouth went to Rafe’s, hungrily seeking his lips. Passion exploded when their mouths joined, and his hands suddenly grasped her about the waist and lifted her upward.

  Moving without thinking, Alana’s hips rose and her legs went to either side of Rafe. With his hands guiding her, she lowered herself onto him, gasping aloud when his length slid quickly into her, impaling her upon a rod of fire.

  Alana’s head dropped. Her hair cascaded across Rafe’s chest. Her breathing was loud as she held herself stiffly. But her body soon adjusted to the heated spear that rested within her, and again her hips began to move with the ageless pattern of love.

  She flicked her head back, and her hair whipped behind her head. She stared directly into Rafe’s eyes and drew upon the love she found there. Then his hands left her hips and went to her breasts, to fondle and caress them, while their bodies moved together in perfect harmony.

  Alana rode Rafe, her eyes never leaving his. She abandoned herself to the full glory of their lovemaking and found security within the warm caresses of his hands on her breasts.

  But as strong as her passion was, she did not let it rule her. She held herself back, moving on him slowly, as he moved within her. Then she felt a change. She saw his eyes begin to glow within the candlelight and felt his hands leave her breasts.

  Suddenly his hands were on her hips again, and he was pulling himself up. An instant later their faces were only inches apart. Rafe guided her legs around him, adjusting them both to this new position, and then he pulled her against him, his mouth covering hers in a passionate kiss that burst her thin threads of control.

  He filled her completely, and as her ankles locked behind his back, she rocked on him, guided by his own body’s movement. A moment later she cried out when his mouth left hers; but his lips returned quickly to the hollow of her neck, and when they did, her back arched and her eyes closed. She could feel her hair brushing the small of her back as his mouth went lower to capture a rigid nipple.

  Suddenly there was nothing except the catapulting sensations of leaving her body even as Rafe held her close. She felt him grow within her and felt her own muscles contracting around him, squeezing him as if she would keep him within her forever.

  And then it happened as it had the first time. Her senses spun, her body arched within his grip, and when she felt him burst forth within her, she reached that same dizzying universe she had visited last night.

  Her hands held on to his back, her head whipped forward. To stop herself from giving voice to the scream that was building within her throat, she buried her face into his shoulder and only then allowed the sounds of her unending release to go forth.

  Waves of pleasure flowed through her. Her body shuddered and trembled upon his, and her arms and hands held him more and more tightly to her. She was afraid to release him, and afraid not to at the same time.

  But Rafe was not trying to move. He held her clasped tightly to his chest, and as the aftereffect of their love washed across them, he stroked her head gently.

  Only when their breathing eased and they were able to look at each other did Alana unlock her limbs from around him. When she did, Rafe helped her, his hands strong and sure. Finally, Alana found herself cradled within the crook of Rafe’s arm, breathing deeply of their now-mingled scents.

  Against her will, tears formed and fell from Alana’s eyes. Rafe caught them with his fingers, and Alana’s heart skipped when he carried his tearstained fingers to his own lips. When he did it again, she stopped him, kissing the tears from his fingers.

  She pulled away from him and sat up. She looked at him, and as her words poured forth, she remained unaware of her nakedness. “I love you, Rafe. I love you with every part of me: with my heart, my soul, and my very life’s blood. I would give myself over to you; I would give my life itself for you, so strong is my love.”

  “Then no more need be said,” Rafe began as he sat up and reached for her. Alana shook her head and held off his arms.

  “There will never be another man who will fully have my heart. But yes, my darling, there is more to be said.” With that, she reached out, took his hand within both of hers, and brought it against her breasts.

  “Jason needs me. You are a man, whole and complete. Your strength is only a small part of you. You are a man who can survive in the world. And more, Rafael my love, you are a man who will bend the world to your own bidding.

  “Jason cannot,” Alana stated without bitterness. “I could no more leave him now than I could deny my love for you.”

  Rafe’s throat was dry, his voice rough-edged. “Alana, I cannot leave you behind.”

  Alana smiled through the tears that fell from her face. “And you shall
not. I will be with you always,” she whispered. Releasing his hands, she bent toward him and pressed her lips to his chest. She could almost taste the beating of his heart as her lips lingered above it. When she raised her head again, she looked into his eyes. “I will be there, within your heart–and here too,” she said as she stretched herself upward to kiss his forehead and then his temples. “In your heart and in your mind forever.”

  “Alana,” Rafe called, but again she would not let him speak.

  “No more,” she pleaded, her hands going to each side of his face. “For the love I give you always, say no more before I crumble and shame myself. Love me, Rafael, love me one last time before the sun comes. Love me so that I may carry your memory and love to my grave.”

  Rafe’s eyes misted by the emotions that filled him. He did not speak; rather, he took her into his arms and covered her delicate mouth with his. Gently, he did as she had commanded him, and they came together one final time, giving of each other in a way that would never be forgotten by either of them, for neither took, but both gave totally and unselfishly. Each was giving the other the gift of their promise of a love that could never be but that would always stay alive.

  When they once again reached that special place that only they two would ever know, they clung to each other, denying that there would ever come a tomorrow.

  But when the sky began to lighten, Alana wordlessly left the bed. After she put on her nightdress, she gazed down at Rafe.

  “Good-bye, my love.”

  After she left, Rafe sat back in the bed and accepted what had happened with the knowledge that it was because Alana was so strong that he loved her. He had known all along that she would never leave Jason.

  Rafe also knew, without any doubt, that despite the fact she would marry Jason, every word she had spoken was the truth.

  He knew, too, that there would never be another woman who could take his heart the way Alana had, and for as long as he lived, he would never allow himself to give up the hope that she would one day be his, completely.

  9

  “Now you hold still, chile’!” Lorelei ordered as she pulled back on the drawstring of the corset.

  “Why bother?” Alana asked, looking in the long oval mirror. “I don’t need this thing.” It wasn’t vanity, it was a simple truth. The corset did nothing to alter her already-slim midsection.

  “’Cause, Alana chile’, dat fine and beautiful weddin’ dress ain’t gonna fit you without dis. De dress be made to ride on de corset, not on de skin.” With that, Lorelei tugged once again, and at last, Alana felt an answering pressure. But, it was in the further uplifting of her breasts, not in the contracting of her midsection.

  When Lorelei finished with the corset, she inspected Alana’s face minutely. “I doesn’t like the way you is lookin’,” she said almost beneath her breath as she began to rub a rose petal on Alana’s cheekbones.

  While Lorelei worked, Alana listened to the low sea of voices that floated in through her open window, reminding her that in half an hour she would be walking along the aisle created by all two hundred of her guests.

  Where has the time gone? she wondered. Ever since leaving Rafe’s room yesterday morning, she had lost her perspective. Everything had rushed by, and although she had reacted normally, going about her day as if nothing were bothering her, she had felt herself floating above a dark abyss that was constantly threatening to open and swallow her. Her voice seemed to come from someone else; her movements seemed apart from her, and the smile that was on her face had become fixed without her feeling it.

  She had greeted the guests warmly, even though part of her mind was in a constant state of mourning. She had been the perfect hostess and the perfect nervous bride. While she played her part, she had continued to oversee the preparations for the wedding.

  Because of the number of early guests who would be spending the night, there was never a moment that Alana was alone, and although she had caught sights of Rafe throughout the previous day, he always had been far away from her. That had been the one thing that had allowed her to function normally.

  With Lorelei now applying color to her face, the only thing remaining before the wedding was to put on the dress. A dark wave of doubt washed across her mind. Yet in the face of every-thing, Alana pulled her shoulders back and smiled at Lorelei.

  “How is Jason?”

  “Gabriel done dressed him, and when I saw him afore, he looked right handsome,” Lorelei responded. Then she looked into Alana’s eyes for a moment before she closed her own. “I’s sorry chile’. May the Lord forgive me, but I’s sorry fo’ what you is about to–” The rest of Lorelei’s words did not come; instead, tears did.

  And those tears, so valuable to Alana because of the woman who shed them, became the one thing that gave her the strength to face what she must. Taking a deep breath, Alana held out her arms. It was almost a repeat of what had happened the other day between them, except she took Lorelei to her bosom. She held her old nurse tightly until Lorelei’s breathing eased. When Lorelei drew back, Alana spoke.

  “We both know what I’m doing is right. And it is, Lorelei,” she whispered fervently, “it has to be.”

  “Yes, Alana, chile’, I knows dat–in my mind at least. But–”

  “Then enough crying. Help me with the dress.”

  ~~~~~

  Rafe stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had been surprised at the prowess of the seamstress and at the way the hastily made suit complemented his physique.

  The royal blue material fell in sleek lines from shoulder to boot, accenting his height. Beneath the jacket was a vest of the same hue and material. Beneath that was a white linen shirt with a high rolled collar and laced cuffs that reached to the thumb knuckle and not a hair’s breadth further.

  Rafe’s jet and silver hair was combed back from his face. The gauntness which had been so apparent two weeks before was almost gone, and he was surprised at how much he looked like the paintings of his father that had graced his home in San Francisco.

  Shaking his head, he tied the silken scarf into a knot and tucked it into the vest. The tips of the collar rolled over it, and the finished look was exactly right. Turning, he started toward the door.

  He’d placed his emotions within a special area of his mind, closing the door upon them and locking away his secret of Alana where no one would ever learn of it. He was strong, just as Alana had stated. And because he was, he had no choice but to accept, this one time, what the fates had decreed. It was more than just his fate at stake, he knew, for if no one else would be hurt by his actions, he would have carried Alana off' long ago.

  “Steady,” he cautioned himself. Rafe took several deep breaths and set the planes of his face into the same mask he had worn yesterday and last night.

  When he was in full control of his emotions, he went to the door, opened it, and went down to the library so that he and Jason could go to the north lawn together.

  ~~~~~

  Alana, with three young plantation girls carrying the train of her bridal gown, walked to where the narrow white carpet had been unrolled on the grass. As she did, she gazed at everything around her. To her right was the area that had been set up for the feasting and dancing that would follow the ceremony. Workers dashed back and forth, as they finished placing all the accouterments on the tables.

  At the far end of the area was a small raised platform with four empty chairs for the musicians, who would play their music for the rest of the day and well into the night.

  Ahead of Alana were her guests. They stood in two groups on each side of the narrow white aisle that ran for a hundred feet from the base of the flowered pulpit.

  As she came closer to the white cotton runner, faces turned her way. Yet she held her head straight and looked only toward her destination and the three men who waited there. Rafe was by far the tallest, and the pastor was of medium height. Jason was seated in his wheeled chair but his head was held proudly; the sun sparkled from the brass b
uttons of his jacket.

  By the time her feet touched the cotton runner, every head was turned toward her. Her veil did not hide the expressions of others from her, even though she knew it prevented them from seeing her very clearly.

  All too soon, she was no longer able to think of anything except forcing herself toward her fate. Behind her, the three girls released the train and the material fell gracefully to the ground.

  Alana walked down the aisle alone, much in the same way she had always walked her path in life.

  Rafe’s breath caught with his first sight of Alana. She stood straight, walking slowly toward him. The sun fell gently on her, illuminating the wedding gown with its pure light.

  The gown itself was magnificent. The fabric started beneath her chin and flowed downward. The material hugged her shoulders and upper arms before billowing out at her elbows. The bodice covered her completely, arching over her breasts and then pulling sharply in to accent her small waist and flaring hips.

  Then it billowed out again, as the many petticoats beneath it gave it a life of its own. The hem reached to the very tips of the neatly shorn grass, giving the appearance that Alana was floating just above the earth itself. The train flowed out behind her, tossed gently by the breeze.

  Rafe’s eyes tried to penetrate through the hazy veil to look at Alana’s face. But in that he failed, and perhaps he was glad.

  He looked briefly at Jason, trying to control his rage and jealousy toward the friend with whom he had been through so much. None of this was really Jason’s fault. Indeed, Jason had claimed Alana before the war had even begun; this day had been set by fate long ago.

  When Alana reached the pulpit, Rafe grasped the handles of Jason’s wheeled chair and pushed it next to her. He noticed that Jason was alert and that he smiled kindly at Alana. Then Rafe stepped to Jason’s side and, without realizing it, clasped his hands together so hard that his knuckles turned white.