The Bridesmaid's Wedding

by Margaret Way

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT WAS ludicrous to think Rafe at six foot ‘three could pass a comfortable night on the couch.

  “Why don’t you take the bed?” Ally implored. “I don’t mind in the least where I sleep.”

  “Why don’t I simply move in with you,” he said, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm. “Then you wouldn’t be on your own in the dark.”

  “I don’t think you’re serious.” Her heart rocked at the very thought. She couldn’t suppress flashes of how it had been between the two of them. Turbulent bliss. Surely feeling like that could never be lost?

  “No, I’m not,” he told her bluntly, brushing her with his iridescent gaze. “You’re not the woman in my life any more, Alison, my darling.” Yet what woman could fascinate him so.

  “So, then, who is?” Ally began to shake out the boronia-scented sheets with unnecessary vigour.”

  “Hey, lady, that’s private.” Masterfully he took the sheets, off her, draping one over the sofa and leaving the other on a chair close by. “What I really ought to do is roll up like hedgehog.”

  “I know.” She stood there worrying. “You’re much too big.”

  “I’ve slept in a whole lot worse places. I’ve actually perfected the art of falling asleep in the saddle Now, push off,” he said, his tone remarkably casual, considering her proximity it was like some kind of purgatory to him. Ally was so good at this.

  She had already taken off her beautiful rose pink bridesmaid gown, replacing it with a tightly sashed brocade robe with satin lapels that matched her eyes. Her polished olive skin glowed in the light. Her curly mane rained down her back and shoulders. Her beauty stunned him. No matter what she had done to him he would never tire of looking at her. He’d created this situation, now he was stuck with it.

  “You have to fly home tomorrow,” she added, as though it were an outrage to ask him to sleep on the couch.

  “Ally, darling, be a good girl and go to bed,” he told her, praying for patience. “You can leave the blanket.”

  “But what about pyjamas?” She continued to hover, wishing she could come up with something that might serve. But there was nothing in this feminine abode.

  “Hell, girl I don’t sleep in pyjamas,” he drawled. “If it’s really cold I might get into a tracksuit. But it’s not cold, it’s balmy.”

  “So, what then?” she persisted, radiating concern. “It isn’t all that warm at night. This is June. Officially Winter.” He had taken off his slate blue jacket, the silver cravat, and unbuttoned a few buttons of his finely pleated white shirt. He looked so wonderful, so vigorous and full of life she was terrified she was going to make fool of herself.

  “Go, Ally.” He pointed to her bedroom door. “You’ve seen me naked. I’ve seen you naked. There’s nowhere else for us to go. Anyway that was a long time ago. But don’t panic. I intend to stick to my briefs.”

  “Right.” She drew her robe closer around her, knowing she was outstaying her welcome, but longing for closer contact, the touch of his hands, his mouth, his skin. “Good night, Rafe, dear.” She thought she might try to kiss him ljke a sister but she realised that would be impossible.

  “Damn it, Ally, stop it!” he exploded. “And you can forget the dear. I don’t think I can cope with it.”

  “So I’ve used up all my credit?” She looked at him with sadness in her gaze.

  He straightened, staring across the small distance that separated them. The overhead light glanced off his taut, arresting face, accented his strong cheekbones, put a deeper groove in the cleft in his chin. “Can I be honest with you, Ally?”

  “Of course.” She held the satin lapels of her robe to her throat, starting to look apprehensive.

  “You’ll always be part of me. Part of my heart. But what I feel for you, what I felt for you, is like a great weight that’s dragging me down. I have to get on with my life. I’ve virtually, had no life since you took off and left me. A few affairs that never came off. I know sweet little Lainie imagines herself in love with me but I don’t intend to break her girlish heart. I don’t like hurting people.”

  She winced as though he’d hit the rawest nerve. “Are you saying I do?”

  He looked as her with cool condemnation in his glittering eyes. “Yes, Ally, I am, but I forgive you. Forgive but not forget is my motto. I’m well on the way to being healed so don’t just stand there flaunting your warm, sweet body in that gorgeous robe. Go to bed and sleep well. I’ll be right outside your door like ghillie Brown with Queen Victoria.”

  She took a deep breath, trying not to feel deeply wounded. “All right, Rafe.” She had some pride, after all. “I do appreciate your staying. I’ll be up early in the morning. I’ll make breakfast.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Cup of tea and a bit of toast.”

  “Good night, then.” she bid him quietly, turning to walk away.

  Good night, Raphael. My golden angel.

  Good night, Ally, my torment.

  Hours passed. Hours Rafe dozed fitfully, unable to find as comfortable position, unable to fall off to sleep however much he willed it, unable to quiet the tumult in his body, the images of Ally that bloomed in his brain. Finally he pulled the blanket around him and sat in the armchair propping his feet on the footstool Ally had found in the study. God! he thought desperately, wishing his blood was as cool as the breeze that was coming in from the half open sliding-glass doors.

  He never could sleep without lots of fresh air. He hated the times he had to stay in hotels. The confinement and that damned air-conditioning. Down the hallway Ally was sleeping the sleep of the innocent, he thought ironically. He could actually hear the quiet rhythm of her breathing. So she hadn’t shut the bedroom door. An invitation? He wouldn’t put it past her. He fancied he could hear her very heartbeat, causing him to jam his head between his hands to block it out.

  Face the horrifying truth, mate. You’re still in love with her and there’s nothing you’re going to be able to do about it. Except not show it. He hadn’t survived all the pain to lay his heart wide open again. He. would suffer a lifetime denial rather than let Ally treat him like a fool again. Not that she wouldn’t like to try it. Tugging on his heartstrings was a part of her. Probably she’d never been totally happy unless she knew what they had would never be over. She had been truly glorious to make love to. His perfect woman. The goddess with feet of clay.

  Lainie had given him the news Ally was considering a movie offer. Why not? She was a born actress. A natural. She’d look brilliant on the big screen. She had such a luminescent quality. What was to stop Ally if Hollywood beckoned? He knew she could slip into an authentic American accent. Sound as English as Francesca. it Another Apart of her training. Accents.

  He only wished to God this guy who was harassing her would appear on the terrace right now. After he finished with him it was unlikely he’d ever harass Ally again. From down the hallway came a little catch of a moan. She was having at bad dream. He wondered if he should check. Decided not to as her breathing became quiet again. You have to overcome this, sport. he thought wryly, bring your mind to bear on getting. to sleep. Mind control is what it’s all about. But desire for Ally continued to saturate his blood.

  It was late at night. She was in the underground car park, moving urgently towards her car. Arnold the security guard wasn’t with her. The lights were too dim. She always thought that. There seemed to be a haze, as well. She thought she smelt cigarette smoke. Cigarette smoke made her ill. She turned her head, casting her eyes around swiftly with false bravado. She was nervous. As nervous as a cat . with a Rottweiler in sight. One of the cast, an older woman, told her to always carry a small can of hair spray in her bag. If you couldn’t get hold of the illegal mace,hair spray would have to do. Anything to give you a minute to get away.

  She was conscious she hated all this. The fear. Why should women walk in fear? It wasn’t fair. She could hear her breath whirring in her chest. Her car wasn’t far away but she
couldn’t seem to close the distance. It was almost as though she was walking through water. She tried to increase her pace approaching a pillar with a big black H on it. She almost passed it only to be confronted by a figure. A nightmare figure. It was wearing a balaclava, a black mask like a storm trooper. She could clearly see the eyes.

  She tried to cry out but nothing passed her throat. She was struck dumb by fear. The man in the mask spoke. The voice was muffled by the balaclava over his head. Yet she knew it. It was the same voice that whispered obscenities to her on the phone. She made a move towards him. Hit out. A reflex action that turned into a furious swipe. If only she could claw the mask from his face. So near to him she thought she knew the odour of his sweat. She wasn’t going down, without a fight. He tried to backhand her but he couldn’t seem to connect. She found her voice screaming for help. If she could only hold on someone would come to rescue her.

  “You miserable swine! You bully! You coward!”

  Now he held his hand cover her mouth. and she tried to bite it hard. Something was holding her like a winding rope. She kicked and fought, blind with fear and frustration. I have to live through this, she thought. I’m young. I have to find a way to make Rafe love me again. I have so much to live for. She could use her nails. They were long and sharp. Only the hands that were holding her were, strong. Too strong for her. She could feel her wild thrashing slowing, slowing, like a woman undergoing sedation.

  The nightmare face above her seemed to have disappeared….

  She stopped fighting altogether. Sagged.

  “Ally, Ally.”

  The terrible muffled whisper was gone as well. The voice was deep, bracing, full of command. And, so blessedly familiar.

  Rafe.

  The certain knowledge jolted her right out of it. She snapped open her eyes.

  She was lying in a bed, trussed up like a mummy. Bedclothes. Rafe was staring down at her, his gold hair tousled, holding her firmly by the arms.

  “For God’s sake, Ally, snap out of it!” he urged. “You’re making my blood run cold.”

  Full consciousness took hold of her clouded brain. She sat up, groaning. “I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry.” She tried to push her own wild, mop of hair away from her face. “l was having a nightmare.”

  “You can say that again!” His voice cracked with irony. “Hell, you were trying to bite me. I had to stop that screaming before the whole, building cried rape.”

  “I’m sorry,” she moaned again, kicking out in frustration at the bedclothes that had somehow tied her in a knot.

  “Here, let me do that.” Roughly he freed her letting her tumble on her side. The room was white with moonlight. He could see her clearly. She was wearing a nightgown that had long clingy sleeves but the low oval neckline revealed the exquisite slopes of her breasts.

  “Do you suppose someone is going to knock at the door?” She wasn’t fooling, either.

  “Hell, I’m surprised someone hasn’t called for the police.”

  “As bad as that?” She made a supreme effort to pull herself together.

  “It would have been if I hadn’t muffled most of it. My God, Ally, what were you dreaming about?”

  “My phantom stalker,” she said bleakly, suddenly punching the pillow. “I was putting up a fight.”

  “Your bites are specially good. It’s a wonder you didn’t try to scratch my eyes out.”

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She rolled towards him, tried to grasp his hand. “Heck, you’re cold.”

  Abruptly he withdrew his hand from her warm clasp.

  “I didn’t have time to put on my nightie,” he said with heavy sarcasm, his brain telling him to get out of here as quick as he could.

  “You don’t need to,” she said huskily. There was something about a man’s bare torso she thought, staring up at him. Broad in the shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist, his chest hazed with golden brown hair that ran in an arrow and disappeared into his dark briefs. Not an ounce of superfluous flesh on him. She was about to reach out and stroke him, but caught herself in the nick of time. “I suppose it was triggered by talking about him, the stalker,” she explained.”

  “I guess so.” Why the hell did she have to turn into the beam of moonlight, her body curved invitingly. An erotic vision.

  “There was something about the figure in the dream,” she confided with a tiny edge of hysteria, “but I’ve lost it.” Her breath fluttered and the neckline of her nightgown moved down further, exposing her breasts as creamy as roses.

  “Don’t you dare try anything on,” he warned her, a dark frown drawing his brows together.

  She swung up in mock outrage. She wanted him so badly she was prepared to try anything. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lied. “You know perfectly well…”

  “What? What is it I know perfectly well?” he challenged her.

  She surrendered all of a sudden, propelled by her mounting urgency. “I want you, Rafe,” she said, her whole body quivering with nerves and desire. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I do. I want you to hold me close. I want you to come in beside me.”

  This nightmare of hers could be no more than trickery, he thought with sudden anger. She was a marvellous actress. “I see.” His voice was harsh. “We make love unti dawn, then you fly off to Sydney and your brilliant career. Lainie only told me tonight you’ve been offered some big part in a movie. You didn’t tell me.”

  “I don’t know how much I want it.” She caught at his hand, held it, despite the fact his fingers had gone rigid as he steeled himself against her touch. “How can you be so cold to me,” she implored, carrying his hand to her breast, holding it there so he could feel the chaos inside her. I know I did something dreadful but can’t you try to understand?”

  He took his hand back deliberately, his voice heavy with scorn. “Ally, please, no more. I’ve spent years killing off my feeling for you. Roll over and go back to sleep, I’m not even tempted.”

  That, when desire was shafting through his body, so hot, so powerful it was agony. In truth he felt electric, out of control.

  “I’d say you are a dreadful liar.” She confounded him, shaking her head. “You’re in as much pain as I am.” Again she grasped his arm, arresting him.

  She had beautiful hands. How he remembered the way she used them. Delicate long fingers, tantalising nails, hands that could stroke a man’s body so sensuously, the yearning became unbearable.

  Her magnificent mane of hair burst around her face, her emerald eyes glittered. Her silken rose-tipped breasts were revealed as she leaned towards him. There was even a teardrop shaped like a pearl clinging to her clashes.

  So it remained. The wilds love of their youth. How could he not be aware of the passion that had always been between them.

  “I want you, Rafe.” Her lips parted on a shaky breath.

  “So what?” he asked with deep cynicism. “The pleasures of the flesh aren’t lasting, Ally. You’ve always done what you want. Now you offer yourself to me because it just happens to suit.”

  She was beyond pride. The room was filled with his aura, his energy, his scent. “Rafe, stay with me.”

  “You’re mad!” he said bitterly, while his heartbeat hammered right up, to his throat. “Mad to ask this of me.”

  “I need you.” It came out as a quick sob. She needed to tell him how much she loved him. How she had always loved Always would. She needed… .

  He was desperate to stop her entreaties. A grown man filled with furious frustrated desire for at woman. He pushed her almost roughly back onto the bed, for the moment forgetting his own strength so her head came into sharp contact with the rnahogany bedhead.

  “God, what am I doing?” He groaned, his voice full of self-disgust.

  Ally, too, was a little shocked, but full of a jagged excitement. She started to rub the backs of her head, though in truth the crack had been cushioned by her abundant hair.

  “I never knew you were violent.” She forced herself t
o breathe deeply, trying to quiet the flames that were leaping between them like a bonfire about to go out of control. “Rafe?” she whispered as he shoved the bedclothes aside.

  “What part are you playing now?” he taunted her. “The innocent virgin? It doesn’t suit you. I think you’d better stick with seductress. You know all about that.”

  She couldn’t bear his contempt. “Listen to my heart,” she begged him. “It beats for you.”

  “Ally, you’re a bitch. You really are!” he breathed, his mind carried back to the number of times she had whispered those very same words to him …listen to my heart. It beats for you….,

  He moved then with breathtaking speed, going down on the bed, all six feet plus of him, radiating male energy and power and a dangerous frustration. While her heart did a crazy cartwheel he took possession of her, pulling her into his arms, shaping her body so masterfully he had it perfectly moulded to his.

  “Rafe!” Her face flushed as if from a raging fever even as she had an overwhelming sense of coming home.

  “Ally. Damn you.”

  His mouth came down on hers with bruising strength. A punishment. Only to find her lips open and waiting as though she intended to steal the very soul out of him.

  Ally. Unchanged. Ally, his obsession.

  He flung his arm over her, A imprisoning her as he lowered her back against the bed, realising as he was losing himself neither of them were breaking the long feverish kiss. It went on and on. Ally writhing beneath him, while his free hand, the hand that wasn’t clutching her riotous hair, moving with power and urgency, over her body.

  I’ve thought about this one million times. Thought about it. Fought it.

  Rafe moved his mouth blindly across her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. Her skin had the texture of satin. Now his hand closed over her delicate breast inciting the nipple. She moaned, the same little mewing sounds he remembered from before.