Alana (32 page)

She refused to accept Rafe’s death, and she refused even to think of it as she retreated within her memories. Soon, she was safe within a world she created for herself, a world where she and Rafe lived and loved and were happily at peace.

Edward, knowing how grief-stricken Alana was, left her alone. But when the night passed and two more followed without her emerging from her room and with her refusing all food sent to her, he could no longer stand idly by.

He went to her on the third day and found her standing motionless, staring out the window, wearing a plain nightdress. Her tangled hair hung limply around her face. Her eyes were dry, red-rimmed, and vacant. Her face showed no emotion; her skin was as white as a ghost.

Edward’s heart grew heavy with compassion, but he ignored his pity as the knowledge of what came next ruled his mind.

He took Alana’s arm and spun her to him. Then he looked deeply into her eyes, hoping to find some semblance of the fire that had once dominated their gemlike blue depths.

“You can’t do this to yourself, Alana,” he began.

Alana’s only answer was an attempt to turn away.

Refusing to allow that, Edward made her look at him. Suddenly his hand whipped up and cracked against her cheek.

Alana’s eyes widened momentarily; then her face returned to a passive and unresponsive mask.

“Damn it, Alana,” Edward shouted. “Cry! Let it free!” His hands tightened on her arms, squeezing painfully to make her aware of herself.

As she stared at him, the waves of her terrible grief and loss broke loose. Tears welled; great wrenching sobs bubbled from her mouth. Her low moans of grief filled the room, and Edward pulled her into the security of his arms.

She cried for a long, long time and was unaware when Edward walked them both to the bed and laid her down. He lay next to her, still holding her, still letting her cry against him until she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, she remembered everything that had happened and felt gratitude toward Edward, mixed with the loss of the love she would never again know. But she was alive once more, and with that came a determination to know which people in South Africa had been responsible for Rafe’s death. While Crystal gained her information about Allison in New York, she would do the same in South Africa. I will have my revenge, she vowed silently.

That morning, Alana drafted a long letter to Crystal telling her everything that had happened and promising that she would continue to seek revenge with every breath she took. The letter left three days later on the Marabella, which was making its return voyage to Charleston.

By late summer of 1868, Alana had come no closer to determining Allison’s counterpart in South Africa, even after another two months of traveling across the country. What she had discovered instead was that her feelings toward Edward were changing.

Ever since that awful night when he’d forced her to release her grief, she had found herself growing more and more dependent on the security and help he offered.

Edward had also taken on the role of business adviser, and in the eight months since she’d left New York, Alana, with Edward’s help, had begun to make Landow Shipping into a major force in the shipping industry.

By late summer, the Landow fleet had grown from two ships to five, three of which were used exclusively for the Maklin-Parkins shipping trade. The Harmony and the Marabella traveled the American route, while a third ferried between England and Cape Town. Landow Shipping was not only solvent; it was beginning to show profits, according to the latest communications Alana received from Carlton DuPont.

Alana knew that Edward was in love with her, and for several months, she tried to love him in return. She never spoke of this to him; she just tried to find within her the emotion that she wanted to give him. Each time she willed herself to feel love for him, Rafe’s image barred the way.

On one warm August night, as they sat on the porch of his house, Edward turned to her, his face lined with tension. “It has been almost eight months since you learned of Rafe’s death, yet you still remain here. I can only hope it is because you are starting to feel something toward me.”

Alana gazed at him, her mouth suddenly dry. Reaching out, she covered his hand with hers and started to speak, but before she could, he stopped her.

“There is much I must say. Let me, please.”

Alana silently nodded.

“I have loved you since I met you. I have spoken of it only once and never again because Rafael Montgomery was still alive. He no longer is, Alana, and I can no longer pretend to feel only friendship for you.

“My wife and son died fifteen years ago. Since then, I have not wanted to share my life with another until I met you. Now I cannot bear to think of life without you. I love you and I want to marry you,” he said at last.

Alana gazed warmly at him, thinking of all he had done for her. “Edward,” she began, slowly shaking her head.

Again, he would not let her continue. “I am twenty years older than you. I know you don’t love me the way you did Rafe, nor would I ever think that I could take his place in your heart. But, Alana, your life must go on. You are too vital a woman to spend your life alone. You need a man to be with you–and I want to be that man.”

Alana gazed at him for several seconds after he fell silent. She had listened intently to every word he’d spoken, and the memory of the past year spent with him–guided and protected by him–rose within her mind.

They shared a special relationship that was a strong and warm bond of friendship. And that bond told her more than his words could. In that moment, she put Rafe’s memory to peace.

“I will try, Edward. I will try to love you as you love me.”

Edward did not reach out and draw her into his arms; it was not his way. Instead, he smiled gently at her. “That is all I will ever ask.”

On September 17, 1868, Alana Belfores Landow became Alana Parkins, Duchess of Claymore, and the wife of the wealthiest man in British-controlled South Africa. The small, private wedding Alana had insisted on was viewed by Cape Town’s high society with more than a little suspicion.

Alana knew nothing of this, for Edward did not want to bother her with such mundane gossip. He was determined to make her happy, to protect her against all evils, and to show her that she could be happy and content with him.

It was on their wedding night that Alana understood that she had made the correct decision in marrying Edward Parkins.

In the dressing room of the master bedroom, Alana stared into the mirror. Her hands trembled slightly while she brushed her hair, and she had to put the brush down and clasp them together.

“How will I be able to do this?” she asked herself. Ever since she’d taken off her wedding gown, bathed, and put on the soft white nightgown, her nerves had been on edge.

She knew that once she entered Edward’s bed, she must forever give up her dreams of Rafe. But Rafe had been her first love, and the only man who had ever made her body sing with passion, joy, and life. Although he was dead, forgetting him was still no easy thing to do. Discounting Ledoque’s attack, no other man had ever made love to her.

How will I made Edward happy if I feel no passion for him? she wondered.

Alana pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that she must do the best she could, for Edward deserved no less. Nor would she resort to the tricks that Crystal had told her of, so that a man might believe he had stirred a woman’s desire although the woman felt nothing at all.

No, she must be honest with herself and with Edward and trust that he would understand.

Alana picked up the brush and, with new determination, smoothed out her raven hair. Willing herself not to show just how frightened she was, she left the dressing room and entered the master suite. She crossed toward the hand-hewn bed, but before she reached it, she realized Edward had not yet changed; rather, he was sitting on one of the two chairs near the window.

Stopping, she turned to study his face. “Is something wrong?” she asked in a low voice.

Edward stood and came over to her. He cupped her face tenderly in his hands. “No, you have made me very happy. But I do not know if it is wise for us to share this bed yet.”

“I–I don’t understand,” Alana whispered.

“You have married me, but I don’t know if you love me. I have waited a long time for this night, Alana; I can wait longer if necessary.”

Tears welled in Alana’s eyes, and a lump built in her throat. Blinking, she tried to forestall what his sweet words threatened to bring out. As she gazed into his soft brown eyes and kind, handsome face, a new feeling was born.

In that moment she realized the love she had for Rafe would always remain sacred within her heart, but that there was room to love another. And as the sensation of this new love spread through her, she felt the certainty of conviction.

“I do love you, Edward, how could I not?” she asked truthfully. With her admission came the understanding that there was more than one type of love. She did not feel the wild and thrilling passion or the undying need that had always been a part of her love with Rafe, and she knew she would never feel that intensity again. But the gentle glow of her emotions told her that the love she had for Edward was a good love, a love that could only grow stronger with the passage of time.

“Please, Edward,” she said as her hands covered his, “come to bed now.”

When they were in the large bed, Edward turned to her and drew her to him. Just before their mouths met, she placed her finger to his lips. “I’m frightened, Edward,” she whispered. “Help me.”

Edward didn’t speak; instead, he drew her closer to him. He did not caress her; he only held her tightly until the trembling in her body eased.

When he lifted her face to kiss her, he did so slowly, waiting patiently until he felt her acceptance of his kiss.

For long minutes, he kissed her. His passions never went out of control, although she felt his body grow warmer with each heartbeat. He did not rush her, and his hands were tender and strong as they caressed and stroked her body through the thin covering of the nightgown.

At last, he carefully removed her nightgown. When it was gone and her beautiful body bared to his eyes, he kissed her mouth. Then he trailed his lips along the side of her neck and lingered at the base of her throat for several seconds. When he felt the increased beat of her heart, he caressed and kissed her breasts in a slow yet hungry way.

Alana’s mind became fogged. Desire mixed with fear to hold her prisoner. She could not move her arms to return his caresses, but at the same time, she did not want him to stop.

And as Edward continued in his slow pace, Alana realized that he was a sensitive lover who must have known her innermost thoughts. His hands were never still; yet never did they roam her body greedily. When he stroked her inner thighs, her muscles quivered in response to his feathery touch.

Soon his lips replaced his fingers, and the warmth of his mouth against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs was a wonderfully gentle sensation.

A short time later, Edward raised his head and looked into her eyes, seeking to reassure her with his words. “You will never have to be afraid of me, Alana.”

Alana sighed. The warmth of his touch spread within her. And strangely, a new form of desire built. There was no loss of control, no frantic and merciless need driving her–just the tingling sensations of his hands and lips.

“I am not,” she told him.

His mouth returned to her skin, lavishing her silken thighs with his lips and tongue. Then he began his upward journey, pausing at the juncture of her thighs to dip his tongue within her and taste her very essence.

Alana felt the spear of his tongue and let the pleasure he bestowed on her add to this new feeling of leisurely desire. The fear that had been holding her back vanished as Edward’s mouth and body traveled upward. He kissed the tip of each breast as his experienced fingers began to work magically within her, moistening her for him, preparing the way.

As her breathing turned deeper, she raised her arms to him, and he came into them. He kissed her passionately, but he did not crush his mouth to hers. For the first time, Alana willingly opened her body to another man.

Edward rose above her. For a brief instant, Rafe’s image wavered in her vision. As it did, Alana willed it away. Then she looked at Edward, and as he positioned himself between her thighs, she reached between their bodies and captured him with her hands. When she felt his heated length in her palms, she caressed it, exploring it delicately before guiding him within her. Because it was she who brought him into her, Alana was able to banish the memory of Rafe’s hands and mouth and give herself completely to Edward.

Edward proved himself a consummate lover: a gentle and thoughtful man who did not rush toward his own pleasure but guided Alana with him.

When they reached their climax, it was not one of pounding hearts, roaring blood, and uncontrolled moans, but a lingering feeling of the gentle love that Edward had shown her she too possessed but had never before experienced.

Afterward, Alana fell dreamlessly asleep in Edward’s arms. When she awoke in the morning, she was still in his arms and he was gazing down at her.