by Janet Dailey
"Tonight your daughter consented to be my wife," Rolt announced quietly. His gaze finally left her face to look at her father. "With your permission, of course.
The tacked-on phrase was a polite gesture. Alanna knew Rolt didn't care whether her parents approved of their marriage or not. And she knew she would marry him with or without their permission.
Dorian Powell was momentarily stunned by the news, but not her mother. She rose from the couch, her face wreathed in a smile as she hurried to embrace Alanna.
"I'm so happy for you, darling," she exclaimed in a voice trembling with emotion. Tears of happiness shimmered in her eyes. "You didn't fool me for a minute. I knew it all the time, didn't I?"
"Yes, mother," Alanna acknowledged, her gaze unwillingly sliding to meet Rolt's narrowed, questioning look.
"You knew it all the time, Mrs. Powell?" he smiled. His head was tipped curiously to one side, but Alanna noted the piercing sharpness of his eyes.
"Yes." Her mother stepped back, holding on to Alanna's hands as she smiled happily from one to the other. "Call it a mother's instinct or female intuition, but I just knew all along that Alanna was in love with you."
"You might have said something to me," Dorian Powell laughed with still a trace of bewilderment at the unexpected turn of events. "I am her father, you know."
"You would have accused me of being silly and sentimental if I had," her mother declared. "It was just that Alanna reminded me so much of myself. Remember how infuriated and angry I was, Dorian, when you first started coming to call. It didn't last long, though."
The dancing light in Rolt's eyes raised Alanna's temperature. She had to keep silent because of her parents, but she let her gaze tell him that she despised him heartily and forever.
"I remember," her father chuckled. "For such a petite thing, you had a man-sized temper and I felt the force of it many times. Alanna is like her mother in many ways."
Rolt's hand slid to the curve of her waist and drew her length against his side. Her fingers curled over his hand, unobtrusively trying to loosen his hold.
"Daddy, you're going to have Rolt thinking he's marrying a shrew with all this talk about temper and being angry," she scolded with a forced laugh.
"You mean, I'm not?" Rolt laughed near her ear.
She would have loved to scratch his eyes out at that moment. He was enjoying this situation tremendously and all at her expense.
"Of course she isn't," her father rejoined with a loving smile at his daughter. "I must say, Rolt, I really thought if I was going to be giving Alanna away in marriage to anyone in the near future, it would be Kurt. This has taken me completely by surprise. But, believe, me, I couldn't be happier with her choice."
"Thank you, Dorian. Neither could I." Rolt again treated her to one of these adoring looks that was underlined with mockery.
"Kurt," her mother murmured in sudden remorse. "Poor Kurt. He was so very fond of you, Alanna."
"Yes, mother, I know." The pain in her voice was genuine.
"I do hope he isn't bitter. He does know, doesn't he?" Elinore frowned.
Alanna couldn't answer the question. The mention of Kurt brought too much anger to her tongue. She closed her lips tightly to keep the rush of vindictive words from pouring out. Rolt had destroyed Kurt's happiness and her own to get what he wanted.
"We saw him tonight," Rolt answered, not explaining the circumstances.
"It was difficult for all of us, but I know it will work out for the best."
"Yes," her mother, agreed. "It would have been simply terrible if Alanna had married Kurt; then discovered she really loved you. Kurt might be hurt in the beginning, but he'll get over it."
"Yes, yes," her father nodded. "A little pain now is better than a lot of pain later." Sensitive as he always was, he recognized that the conversation made Alanna uncomfortable without knowing the true reason. "But there isn't any need to discuss that. Why don't we sit down? Elinore, maybe you could check to see if there's any coffee left and some of that delicious cake Ruth made. And tell Ruth the news, too."
"I certainly will," Elinore Powell agreed enthusiastically. "At least Alanna has finally started the process that will bring us our future grandchildren."
"In due course, my dear," Dorian Powell laughed. "In due course."
Children. Color mounted in Alanna's cheeks at the ultimate intimacy the thought implied. With the firm, masculine hand around her waist, her senses leaped in response, and she moved quickly away from the hand toward the sofa. She must stop these sensual longings. It was imperative that she never indulge in them with Rolt.
She had barely sat down on the sofa when Rolt was beside her. He didn't exactly sit close, but his arm was draped along the back to let his hand rest lightly on her shoulder. A small liberty, but she slid him a resentful glance from beneath her lashes just the same.
Her father turned to them as her mother left the room. "Elinore has her heart set on grandchildren," he said affectionately and with a hint of apology. "She always wanted a houseful of children, but unfortunately she wasn't able to have them. We consider ourselves blessed that we have you, Alanna. So don't you be worried about disappointing your mother if you decide you and Rolt want to wait before starting a family."
"Actually, dad, Rolt and I haven't talked about that," she said nervously. "I don't know if he likes children."
"I like children," he told her, smiling lazily. "Especially little girls with dark amber hair and beautiful violet blue eyes."
Desperately she wanted the subject changed. And she wanted his hand off her shoulder. The absent rubbing caress of his fingers made her feel weakly vulnerable, especially combined with the topic of conversation, and she steeled herself to ignore it. She disliked him intensely. She hated him!
The tall, spare housekeeper swept into the room, her angular face alight with joy. Alanna could have cried with relief. Amidst the hugs, congratulations and explanations, the subject of children was lost.
"It's just like having one of my own getting married," Ruth declared. "I've known Alanna since she was a baby." Her mother entered the room with a tray of coffee and cakes, and Ruth rushed quickly to take it from her. "I told you to leave that, Elly. It's too heavy for you."
"Nonsense," her mother denied. "I only have a few feet to go anyway. You just sit back down."
Ruth did, insisting she would pour. The spout of the pot was poised above the first cup when she put it back on the tray. "Just think, Elly, of all there is to be done." She glanced at Alanna. "When is the wedding? Have you thought about a date yet?"
Alanna was about to say that they hadn't had time, but she never had a chance to speak.
"Right away," Rolt answered. "Alanna wants to be a June bride."
She wanted no such thing! She turned to glare at him and deny his statement. His fingers dug into her shoulder in warning. There had been no mention of when they would marry, but she hadn't dreamed it would be this soon. Of course, what difference did it really make? she thought bitterly.
"June!" Elinore Powell explained. "But there's loss than ten days left of this month. We have to buy your gown and the bridesmaid's dresses. And the invitations, they have to be printed. And arrangements for the church and flowers. Ruth can make the cake, but—"
"I think we'd rather have a quiet wedding, Mrs. Powell," Rolt said gently.
With that, Alanna was in full agreement. A large wedding with lots of guests and a drawn-out reception seemed hypocritical. The marriage vows would be enough of a farce.
"I'm sorry, mother." She knew how much her mother had counted on a big, beautiful church wedding for her only child. "We really would rather have just a simple ceremony with only the family in attendance."
If Alanna had doubted Rolt when he told her of her father's precarious financial circumstances, it was banished. The relief on his face was visible at her statement. He would never have been able to afford the expense of a large wedding.
"If that's what you want," her mothe
r sighed a reluctant agreement.
"In this day and age," Ruth sniffed, "you should be glad they're getting married without worrying about the size of the wedding."
"What about a honeymoon?" Elinore ignored her friend's comment.
"A long weekend is the best I can manage," Rolt stated. "We'll have to postpone it until winter."
It didn't matter, Alanna thought. The honeymoon would be over before it began. It was a relief to learn that she wouldn't be forced to spend an extended length of time exclusively in his company.
The wedding and related topics dominated the conversation for the next hour. Alanna's participation was small, letting her mother and Ruth talk over the plans and what was possible during the short time they had.
"Flowers. The flowers will have to be decided on, too," Ruth added. "What kind of flowers would you like in your wedding bouquet, Alanna?" she asked as she picked up the coffee pot to refill their cups. It was empty. "We're out of coffee. I'll go and make another pot."
"Please, none for me," Rolt forestalled, removing his arm from the back of the sofa. "It's time I was leaving."
"Not so soon," her mother protested,
"Yes," he insisted, straightening to his feet.
He said goodbye to each of them in turn and started from the room. Alanna had remained seated until she felt the expectant looks from her parents and realized they thought she would want to accompany him to the door, so the could say good-night alone. With gritted teeth, she rose quickly.
"I'll see you to the door, Rolt," she called after him.
He halted in the doorway to the hall and waited until she had joined him. "There isn't any need," he told her. His hand cupped the side of her face. "It's been a hectic evening, all things considered. Have an early night and I'll see you tomorrow."
Her hand gripped his wrist. She knew he intended to kiss her. There was nothing she could do to stop him with her parents and Ruth looking on. That was the way Rolt had planned it—the glint in his eyes told her so.
His mouth closed warmly over hers. She kept her lips cool and unresponsive. She would show him that just because she had been putty in his hands once, it wasn't going to always be true. In fact, she was determined it would never happen again.
When he lifted his head, her eyes glittered triumphantly. How do you like kissing an ice cube? her gaze taunted. His mouth twisted in dry amusement.
"You can do better than that," he murmured for her hearing alone. "But I'll wait for another time to prove it to you."
"You're in for a long wait," she muttered, smiling sweetly for her parents' benefit.
His thumb rubbed the corner of her mouth for a second, then he released her.
"Goodnight, darling. Sleep well."
The endearment had been a deliberate taunt. So had the wish for a good night's sleep. Neither was true. She would never he his darling and she knew she wouldn't sleep.
"Goodnight, Rolt."
It was the first of a succession of nights that Alanna had to endure. Her parents expected her to be with Rolt and she had little recourse but to see him. Although she constantly had to steel herself against his touch or an arm around her shoulders, an occasional kiss, Rolt didn't make any attempt to make love to her.
In a way, she found it strange. But she reasoned that he was trying to win her by degrees, getting her to trust him, then taking advantage of it. As far as she was concerned he had proved that he wasn't to be trusted.
Mostly Alanna didn't have much time to think about what she was doing. There was shopping to be done, a simple wedding dress and a small trousseau, Alanna insisted it be small because she knew her father could afford nothing else and because she didn't care.
THE MORNING OF HER WEDDING it was raining—sheets of water driving against the window pane of her bedroom. It seemed fitting that it should rain, she thought, as her mother helped her dress. According to superstition, a marriage was headed for trouble if it rained on the bride on her wedding day. Alanna considered it a good omen for her plans.
When she rode with her parents to the church, a shaft of sunlight pierced the dark clouds. She bit her lip tightly to keep from screaming for it to go away. It was only a silly superstition. She would never be happy married to Rolt whether the sun shone on her wedding day or not.
When she left the church on her husband's arm, the sky was clearing. Everything appeared freshly scrubbed and crystal bright, the air refreshing and clean. Alanna didn't notice the vivid green of the trees as they drove to her parents' house for the small wedding reception.
Stoically she endured the endless offers of congratulations and best wishes. She couldn't accept any of them honestly, so she simply smiled and nodded. If any of the guests noticed her quietness, they attributed it to bridal jitters. She kept smiling until she was virtually gritting her teeth to maintain the brittle pose.
At last Rolt suggested that they could leave. Alanna nodded a quick agreement, her rigid muscles relaxing briefly against the arm that had rarely left her waist. As she embraced her parents, she experienced a qualm of misgiving about what she was doing and why, but pushed it aside.
Amidst a shower of rice, she left the house with Rolt. His black car was parked in the drive. Only it wasn't solid black any more. There were white curls and stripes and slogans of Just Married and His and Hers painted on the sides, decorations done in good fun. But Alanna didn't find them amusing. It only served to point out that she had married Rolt for revenge and not love.
"You can relax now, Alanna. It's over," Rolt said dryly after reversing the car on to the road.
"Yes." At least the need to keep up a pretense was over. With a sigh, she leaned against the seat back. "How long will it take to reach your house?"
"It's about a twenty-minute drive from here to our home," he answered with quiet emphasis.
The silence during the drive was mutually enforced. There had never been any suggestion that their wedding night would be spent anywhere but at Rolt's house. Had he suggested spending the weekend at a hotel, Alanna would have refused. A hotel room was dominated by the bed. In a house, there were other rooms.
She had never been to his house, never seen it. Her father had taken most of her things, these that weren't packed in the suitcases now in the truck of the car, to the house the day before. She knew its general direction and that it was in the country near a lake.
Tall pines overshadowed the lane leading to the house. They grew so close to the road that it was nearly like driving through a tunnel. In a clearing just below the crest of a hill stood the house. It was built of unfinished cedar, rustic and rambling, blending naturally with its forest surroundings.
Attractive, Alanna admitted, in spite of the fact, that it belonged to Rolt. The car stopped and he walked around to open her door.
"My suitcases," she reminded him as he walked toward the wooden steps leading to the front door.
"I'll bring them in later." He unlocked the door and waited on the wide, rustic porch for her to join him. When she would have walked past him, his hand stopped her. "There is an old custom about carrying a bride across the threshold."
Her first impulse was to object, but she stifled it and let his strong arms cradle her against his chest. Her pulse stirred for an instant at the hard contact with his muscular shape, but she kept her grip on her icy composure. Rolt nudged the door open with his foot and carried her into the house.
"The custom has been observed. You may put me down now," Alanna said with chilling calmness.
His face was very close to hers, his gaze steady and unreadable. She could make out every detail from the faint, sun-weathered lines at the corners of his eyes to the harsh grooves carved near his mouth. For several long seconds, he held her. A peculiar tension vibrated along her taut nerves.
Slowly the arm under her knees relaxed, letting her legs slide to the carpeted floor. The other arm tightened its hold, flattening her breasts against the granite wall of his chest. She held herself rigid, neither struggling n
or submitting.
Rolt tipped her chin upward.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Matthews."
His mouth descended on hers with slow insistence. Controlled passion edged the possession. Alanna blocked out the hard strength of his arms and concentrated her thoughts on Kurt, the man she should have married, the man she would have married. It helped her ignore the persuasive pressure of his kiss.
There was a tightness to the line of his jaw when he raised his head. "You're not going to try to make this easy, are you?" For all the coolness of his voice, his eyes were sapphire chips of fiery blue.
"It was never my intention to make anything easy for you," she replied.
His arm tightened for a punishing second, then let her go. She stepped smoothly away from him, aware of a faint quiver in her knees, but she had successfully repelled his kiss. She was determined it would he the first of many times.
Ignoring Rolt, she glanced about the room. Smooth, unfinished cedar paneled the walls, broken often by large windows with a fireplace of large sand-colored stone. The carpet of cream beige was a luxuriously thick, deep shag, its rough texture in keeping with the style of the home. A long sofa was in front of the fireplace, covered in a rich brown velvet, and matching love-seats flanked the sofa in a cream and brown plaid. Indirect lighting was concealed in the beamed ceiling.
An extra wide hallway allowed her a glimpse of the dining room with windows running the length of one wall. The planks and railings of a sun deck were visible through the panes. There was a movement from Rolt, who had been standing some distance behind her. Alanna turned, as if she had forgotten his presence, which was an impossibility. The look in his eyes invited a comment about the house.
"It's very nice," she said indifferently.
"I'll show you around."
Without waiting to see if she wanted to, Rolt walked past her into the wide hallway. Shrugging a disinterest that wasn't true, Alanna followed. He gestured toward an open door leading off the hall, one she hadn't noticed.
