by Janet Dailey
Inside the house, she leaned against the closed front door, shutting her eyes for a brief instant. Don't forget, Rolt had said. He needn't have bothered, she thought bitterly. He had successfully come between her and Kurt tonight, and she had the uneasy feeling it wasn't going to be the last time that it would happen.
Around ten the next morning, the telephone rang. Alanna was closest, so she answered it. "Powell residence. Alanna speaking," she said automatically.
"How's your headache?"
Her first thought was that it was Kurt phoning as promised. "All gone," she replied with forced lightness. The low mocking laughter that followed her words made her realize her mistake. It was Rolt. "How did you know about that?" she breathed angrily.
"When I saw Kurt this morning, I couldn't help commenting on how rested he looked. He explained that he'd had an early night last night because you'd had a headache." His taunting voice laughed at her excuse.
"Why did you call, Rolt?" she demanded.
"Do I have to have a reason?"
"No, but I'm sure you do." And it was probably to gloat.
"Maybe I wanted to hear your voice."
"Well, I hope you enjoy hearing this." Alanna slammed the receiver on the hook, wishing she had broken his eardrums and doubting if she could be that lucky.
She glowered for a second longer at the telephone, then pivoted away.
Her mother was watching her, a bemused twinkle in her eyes.
"Was that Rolt Matthews on the phone?" she inquired.
"Yes." Alanna's answer was abrupt, a leftover piece of her temper.
"I was wondering when he would get around to calling," Elinore Powell commented with a knowing tilt of her head.
"What made you think Rolt would call?" She was wary and on edge.
"Remember when he and Kurt were over here during Easter? Well, I could tell by the way Rolt kept watching you that he was interested. You were probably too wrapped up in Kurt to notice, but I did," her mother declared.
"Well, I can't stand him!" Alanna snapped.
"He makes you angry, does he?"
"Yes! He's—" She stopped short, suddenly recognizing the sparkle in her mother's eye, and guessing its cause. "And don't look at me that way, mother," she declared impatiently. "It's not what you're thinking. He may enrage me, but he will never raise me to some heavenly plateau!"
She spun away and raced blindly from the room. Even her own mother was going over to the enemy camp!
She railed against the unfairness of it. Rolt cast a long shadow, a giant's shadow, and it seemed to be looming over more and more of her life.
DURING THE REST OF THE WEEK, Rolt didn't attempt to make any further direct contact with Alanna. He didn't have to, since he had managed to interfere quite successfully in one way or another. Twice she had seen him briefly when she was with Kurt, and her parents had invited him over for dinner one evening. Luckily it had been an evening she had already planned to spend with Kurt.
Most of the time it was simply the thought of him that disturbed her. Each time she was with Kurt, Alanna would remember that afternoon and the things that Rolt had said and done. She couldn't forget then. She couldn't relax with Kurt. When he touched her or held her, she kept measuring her reaction, wanting to avoid a repetition of that night on the porch. In consequence, she was tense and unnatural. To cover it, she became overly friendly and affectionate to prove to herself as well as to Kurt how much she cared for him.
With her fingers twined in his, she led Kurt from the, dance floor to their small table in the crowded bar, laughing over her shoulder into his handsome face. Saturday night had filled the bar with people, and their voices and laughter made it difficult to hear the music of a local band. Not that it really mattered. Everyone was there to have fun. Music was the background.
White slacks and a white tunic was not perfect choice of clothes to wear in these crowded circumstances, but Alanna knew it set off her slim figure and the light golden tan she had acquired. And the silk underblouse of swirling lavenders and grays highlighted the unusual violet shade of her eyes. In this carefree atmosphere she felt quite bewitching.
The ardent glow in Kurt's eyes seemed to affirm that he was definitely under her spell. He didn't release her hand as they reclaimed the chairs they had vacated to dance. Their chairs were drawn close together so that their shoulders touched.
Kurt leaned over and nuzzled the tawny curls near her ear lobe. "I love you, Alanna," he murmured huskily. He drew back a few inches, a faint look of wonder in his eyes as if he was surprised by the words he had spoken. "I love you, Alanna," he repeated with conviction.
She had been waiting for these words since Easter. Now, more than ever before, they made her feel safe. Rolt's threats became meaningless, and her spirits soared with the release.
"I love you, too, Kurt," she said with genuine warmth.
"It's a crazy place to tell you." His gaze swept the noisy room briefly before returning to her face.
"It's a wonderful place," she protested softly.
"We've known each other for—how long?—A month?"
"About that."
Of course, people have fallen in love in less time than that, haven't they?" Kurt reasoned away the shortness.
"A lot less," agreed Alanna.
"We should be in some luxurious restaurant, drinking champagne." He shook his dark head.
"In Minnesota?" Alanna teased.
"Yes, in Minnesota," Kurt grinned. "That's where I should have taken you tonight instead of here. Or I should have waited to tell you until we were alone."
"Does it matter?" She tipped her head to one side, lips parting in an invitation. "I mean, does it really matter where we are?"
"Not if you say you love me again."
"I love you."
"Alanna!" He breathed her name in a caress as his mouth descended toward the promise of hers.
"Kurt—Alanna. What a surprise to find the two of you here." Rolt? dryly mocking voice separated them instantly. "I would have thought you'd take Alanna to some place less public."
Alanna's head was up, as if scenting danger. That moment of feeling secure and safe was gone. She no longer was certain that Kurt's love would be able to protect her. Not from Rolt.
"At the time, it seemed a likely spot. It's only now that I'm beginning to see its disadvantages," Kurt conceded. Alanna felt his smiling look turn sad briefly returned a strained imitation of it.
"What are you doing here, Rolt?" The flash of her eyes accused him of spying.
"I stopped by for a quiet drink, forgetting it was Saturday night," he returned evenly. "I was on my way out when I happened to see the two of you."
"Don't let us stop you," she returned sarcastically.
Rolt laughed and pulled up an empty chair to sit down at their table, uninvited. "Sometimes, I think you don't like me, Alanna."
"Only sometimes?" The taunt was drawn through clenched teeth.
"Yes, only sometimes," he agreed lazily. His gaze drifted suggestively to her mouth, almost physically touching it to remind her of the kisses he had stolen.
Alanna crimsoned. Somehow he made her feel as if her resistance had only been a token thing. Added to that was the sensation of guilt for failing to tell Kurt of that one visit. An arm circled her shoulders and for an instant she tensed, recalling another strong arm that had trapped her in its vice grip. She had to force herself to relax against Kurt's reassuring much.
"The way I've been monopolizing Alanna's time lately," Kurt spoke, "hasn't given you much of a chance to compete for her, Rolt. I hate to tell you this, older brother, but you're too late now." His arm tightened around her shoulder, drawing her closer. Then he pressed a kiss on her temple. "In the not too distant future, Alanna is going to be a member of the family, all legal and binding."
His statement brought a brief surge of confidence. Alanna veiled the glitter of triumph with her lashes as she glanced swiftly at Rolt to see his reaction to Kurt's announcement. Th
e long look he gave her was hooded and unreadable. He seemed neither surprised nor upset by the news.
The acknowledging tip of his head seemed indicate resignation, "That's something I can drink to," Rolt smiled crookedly, "Waitress?" he turned, signaling to the girl passing their table with a tray of drinks. "A scotch and water for me, please, and two more of the same for them."
"There's one thing about my big brother," Kurt told Alanna. "Once he knows he's beaten, he admits it. Of court, he loses so seldom that he can afford to be gracious in defeat."
Yet Alanna didn't trust Rolt. She hoped that what Kurt said was true, but she couldn't forget the positive way Rolt had declared she belonged to him. When the drinks arrived, she fingered her cold glass and eyed Rolt warily.
He lifted his glass and touched it first to Kurt's, then held it against Alanna's. His enigmatic gaze held hers, not allowing her to look away.
"To the day—" his voice was firm and strong "—when Alanna becomes Mrs. Matthews."
A cold knife plunged into her heart. In that frozen moment, she knew that he meant Mrs. Rolt Matthews. He had not acknowledged defeat. What's more, Rolt was aware that she knew it even if his brother didn't. It was there in the mocking glint of his eye.
"Drink up, Alanna," Kurt prompted. His hand covered her paralyzed fingers holding the glass and carried it to her lips. The drink was in her mouth before she could stop him.
"Now that I've toasted the future bride, do you object if I dance with her?" Rolt inquired.
"Not at all." Kurt removed his arm from around her shoulders, magnanimously releasing her into his brother's custody.
Don't you see what he's doing? Alanna screamed silently at Kurt. But he merely smiled into her pale face and prodded her in the direction of his older brother, now standing expectantly beside her chair. Feeling abandoned, she rose, frozenly accepting the guiding hand on her back.
The small dance floor was crowded, as was all of the bar. Yet Alanna managed to hold herself stiffly away when Rolt turned her into his arms to begin the slow step to the music. Her fingers were rigid in his hand and her other hand rested on only a small square of his muscular shoulder. She looked sideways at the other couples rather than at her partner.
"All your maneuvering won't work, you know," she murmured beneath her breath. "I do love Kurt and I'm going to marry him."
"Are you?" he countered smoothly.
Alanna flashed him a seething look and clamped her lips tightly shut. It would be a waste of breath to try to convince him—he was too arrogant and conceited to listen. She lapsed into a frigid silence.
"How are your parents?" Rolt asked.
"Fine," she answered icily.
"Are they?" His murmuring voice was filled with knowing doubt.
Alanna missed a step and his arm immediately tightened around her waist. It wasn't a desire for small talk that had prompted his inquiry about her parents. She knew it as surely as she knew her name.
"Why do you say that?" she asked warily.
"I thought your father seemed upset about some. thing when I was there for dinner the other evening." Rolt shrugged in seeming indifference. "Doesn't he approve of Kurt?"
How she hated the complacent glitter in these dark blue eyes! "He thinks very highly of him." Mostly because Kurt was his brother, but Alanna wouldn't admit that to Rolt even on pain of death.
"Do you know what's bothering him?"
"He's concerned about mother," she stated briskly, having no desire to discuss it with him.
"Did he tell you that?"
"Yes, he did."
The crowded dance floor had elbows and shoulders constantly pushing against her, diminishing the precious inches that kept her apart from Rolt. With the loss of each inch, his arm tightened to keep her from regaining it. His muscular thighs were now brushing against her, but her mind was too occupied with the puzzling reasons for his questions to dwell on that.
"Why are you asking all these questions about my parents?" she challenged.
"I was just curious about why your father seemed upset. Of course, if he told you that he was concerned about your mother, then I'm sure that that, must be the reason." His answer was too smooth.
Her breathing became shallow. A tightness gripped her throat. "What do you know that I don't?" she demanded.
Rolt tipped his head to the side. "What makes you think I do?"
"You do know something," she declared with angry certainty. "What is it? I have a right to know."
"I'm sure you do," he agreed.
"Then tell me."
"This is hardly the place for a private discussion." His gaze arced around them.
"I want to know," repeated Alanna.
Rolt stopped and she realized the music had ended. "All right," he conceded, "I'll tell you." He paused, his gaze running over her upturned face, his expression masked and unreadable. "Come to my office on Tuesday evening at six. I'll tell the guard at the gate to expect you."
"Tuesday?" She breathed a frowning protest.
"I'm leaving in the morning. I'll be out of town until then."
Her hands doubled into fists of frustration. "This is all a trick, isn't it?" she accused. "You're making all this up just to get me to meet you."
"The only way you can be positive of that is to meet me Tuesday and find out." The line of his mouth quirked in a mirthless smile. "Shall we go back to the table before Kurt gets impatient?"
Alanna pivoted sharply on her heel. He was deliberately being mysterious. She knew that no amount of anger or pleading would make Rolt tell her anything now, if there was even anything to tell. She wasn't convinced there was, but by the same token, she wasn't convinced there wasn't.
Although Rolt left almost as soon as they returned to the table, his brief appearance ruined the rest of Alanna's evening. She couldn't recapture that mood of contentment and happiness that had accompanied Kurt's avowal of love for her. She tried to respond with the same degree of sincerity, but she knew she was faking it, although she didn't think Kurt noticed it. Her mind was torn in two by concern for her parents' well-being and the knowledge that Rolt was still intent on making her his.
The waiting added to her conflict. She didn't know if Rolt knew something about her parents or if he was pretending that he did in order to get her to agree to meet him. But if it was the latter, what difference would that make? Just because she met him it didn't mean she was suddenly going to change her mind about him. So she had to concede that there was a very real possibility that Rolt did know something.
Twice during the intervening days she cornered her father and questioned him to glean any information that might give her a clue. His answers weren't any help. The conversations left her with the impression that his problem, according to him, was that he was tired, had a sore shoulder from playing golf, and was concerned about her mother. On the surface, they seemed satisfactory, but Rolt had made her suspicious.
Alanna frowned and tugged impatiently at the stubborn weed growing in the iris bed. She didn't want to meet Rolt tonight, but it seemed the only way to put an end to all her doubts and questions. The June sun was hot, perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades before being absorbed by the back-strap of her halter.
A car pulled into the driveway. Alanna paused to glance over her shoulder, rubbing the back of her gloved hand across her forehead. A sigh broke unexpectedly from her lips at the sight of Kurt stepping out of the car. It was not the reaction she should have had to the surprise visit from her prospective fiancé. Immediately she curved her lips into a warm smile of greeting as she straightened.
"Kurt, this is a surprise!" she declared.
"Talk about surprises," he laughed, his gaze running admiringly over her. "Somehow when I pictured Little Miss Mary working in her garden, I always saw her in ruffles and pinafores, not sexy shorts and top. I should visit her garden more often." His hands circled her waist and he kissed her soundly.
"Mmm," she sighed when he finally let her breathe again.
"Now I understand why she was so contrary. She was constantly being accosted by handsome men." His hands were still locked behind her back, holding her close to him. Alanna tipped her head back to gaze into his face. "Seriously, Kurt, how did you manage to get away from the plant in the middle of the day?"
"I had an errand to run, so I took a late lunch hour," he explained.
"And you just happened to be in the area and thought you would stop, is that it?" she asked, smiling.
The teasing laughter left his eyes as he unlocked his hands. "I came to complete the last of my errand," Kurt told her. "I stopped by the jewelers and picked this up."
He took a ring box from his pocket and opened it. "It's beautiful!" breathed Alanna. She gazed at the ring, one large diamond surrounded by a circlet of smaller ones in the shape of petals.
"To make it official, Alanna, will you marry me?" he asked softly.
"Yes." Her answer was almost inaudible. The ring somehow made it all seem so much more real and unchangeable.
"Let me have your hand," said Kurt, removing the ring from its velvet holder.
Alanna raised her left hand, hastily peeling the cotton glove off, and held it out to him. Reverently he slipped it on to her finger.
"I'm afraid it's too loose," he said with a sighing grimace.
"It doesn't matter," she protested, not wanting to lose her talisman. She felt it would protect her and she didn't want to think about from what.
"Yes, it does. I want it to be perfect—as perfect as you are, Alanna," he declared huskily.
"I'm not perfect," she denied.
"To me, you are." He slipped the ring from her finger, replacing it in the box. "The jeweler said he could easily size it. I'll take it back to him this afternoon and pick it up after work tonight. And the next time I put it on your finger, it won't come off."
"No." Alanna shook her head, gazing forlornly at the box but it was out of sight once more in his pocket.
He crooked his forefinger under her chin and raised it. "We'll do it up right tonight. Champagne, candlelight, the works," he promised. "A real celebration."
Her teeth sunk whitely into her lower lip. "I can't, not tonight, Kurt," she murmured.
