Alana (6 page)

Lorelei had seen, too, whenever Alana had looked at Rafe, the glow that suffused her and gave a special sparkle to her large blue eyes. It was a look that Lorelei had always wished to see on Alana but never had until tonight.

Lorelei had been eighteen years old when Alana was born, and she had reared Alana from infancy. At times, although the notion was unthinkable, she had almost felt that Alana was her own flesh and blood–the daughter she could never have. Throughout her life, Lorelei had cared for Alana and loved her deeply. She had suffered through all of Alana’s losses and had been near whenever Alana needed her. And she knew that just as she loved Alana, so did her mistress love her.

Tonight Lorelei’s heart had grown heavy, for she understood what was happening to Alana and Rafe. For years, Lorelei had prayed that Alana would find a man she could truly love, a man who would capture her heart and free the loving woman hidden within the shell that Alana always wore.

Lorelei had known both the pleasures and the pain of love. As a slave, there was little time for love; she had learned early in life to take every moment when it was offered and to use those fleeting moments of happiness to ward off the painful times.

Seeing the unmistakable signs of love that Rafe offered Alana, Lorelei knew that Alana should reach out and accept them. Without this brief chance at love, Alana would never become whole.

Lorelei recognized that loyalty motivated Alana’s actions. Alana’s obligation to Jason would not allow her to do anything other than marry Jason. This, Lorelei understood, would make Alana no less a slave than Lorelei herself had been all her life. This short time before her marriage would be the only chance Alana would have to experience love.

At the door to the guest bedroom, Lorelei willed her trembling hand to knock. She was terrified at what she was about to do, but her love for Alana made her strong. When she opened the door, she saw Rafe dressed, his bag in hand.

“Mr. Montgomery, I be sorry to bother ya’ll–”

“What is it, Lorelei?” Rafe asked, surprised.

“I needs to talk wit’ you.”

Rafe shook his head slowly. “I have to go.”

“Ya’ll cain’t,” she stated, her voice stronger than she felt. Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in response to her unexpected declaration. “Lorelei, Jason will be fine. I’ve shown Gabriel everything he needs to know.”

“It ain’t dat. I knows how to take care of Master Jason. Many’s de slave who los’ his legs. It ain’t dat.”

“What is it, then?”

“It be Miss Alana. You cain’t leave her now.” As soon as she said the words, a ripple of fear slashed through her, but she stood her ground.

“Did Alana send you?” he asked suddenly.

“Nossir, I comes myself. Master Rafe–”

“Don’t ever call me that. I am no person’s master,” he stated sharply.

Taken aback by this, Lorelei continued, “She need your love. De rest of her life be empty. Don’ make her face dat without her knowing what love ken be. She need de memory to survive, Mister Rafe. She surely do.”

Rafe stared at the former slave and saw the love she bore for her mistress. Her words hammered at his heart, but he knew he could not listen to them.

“And what about my future, Lorelei? What about me?” Lorelei blinked and shook her head. “You be a strong man. You be a good man, I ken tell. But you gots to have your memories, too, Mister Rafe, you sure gots ta have dem, too.” Rafe stared at her. He knew he was trapped as neatly as he had been that long-ago night when the Confederates had boarded his ship. But, he wondered, what would happen this time?

With a deep sigh, Rafe tossed his bag onto the bed and nodded his head.

The
aromas of liquor, tobacco, and salt air permeated the second-floor room above the largest warehouse in Charleston. Three oil lanterns burned, giving just enough light for the two men sitting across from each other to see by, the air in the office charged with an aura of darkness and corruption that no amount of light could lessen.

One man was sitting in a leather wing chair smoking a cigar. He projected wealth, power, and importance in equal proportions. He had a full head of white hair and thick, gray eyebrows that hovered above dark eyes. He had the pasty complexion of an indoors man and the jowly face of one whose exercise comes from too many social occasions.

Yet the forces emanating from him left no doubt regarding his strength. This man was James Allison, the head of Allison Shipping Company, the largest shipping company in America.

Across from him, his face shaded, was another man, from whom vast power also emanated.

Several sheets of paper, discarded moments before lay on the table between them. Allison, drawing on his cigar, nodded at them.

“Very good,” Allison stated. “Very good indeed.”

“I’m glad you’re satisfied with our progress.”

Allison leaned back in the chair, his head resting on its soft cushion of leather while he looked at the other man through half-closed eyelids. He drew again on the cigar and, after exhaling a cloud of bluish smoke, spoke again.

“I will only be satisfied when we control all southern ports and all the shipping from them, as we do in the East and the West.” Allison’s voice was hard, his eyes penetrating. “I had expected our operations to be concluded by now. Apparently I must remind you of our timetable.”

“They will be,” the man promised, his words forceful.

“I hope so, for your sake, and for that of the consortium. What is the problem?”

“The Haversham Company is ready to accept our terms. It seems they had a bit of misfortune with their last two shipments. Much of the goods had spoiled on the voyage–vermin, I understand. We’ll have their contracts within the week.”

“But the other?” Allison asked.

“That one has been operating out of Bermuda since the onset of the war.”

“So?” Allison said, impatiently. Little details were not for him.

“I’ve been negotiating with the agent, but he can’t speak for the owner, who was an officer with the rebels.”

“We’ve used other methods before,” Allison said, the reprimand unmistakable.

“This isn’t like that company in San Francisco,” the man said with a dismissing wave of his hand. “And I’ve already accepted the responsibility for deciding against that sort of action. The Montpelier contract is the single richest shipping contract in the South. By itself, it has made and kept the Landows wealthy. And the contracts are family tied. If I had used any of our other methods, it might have endangered our chances to get this important contract. Besides, the Landow ships would make a good addition to any of the consortium’s shipping companies. Taking all of this into consideration, I thought it best to wait for him to return from the war and then approach him directly.

“My people have just informed me that the owner returned home this very week. I have dug into his history. He has always run the shipping company through an agent. It was his grandfather who formed it.”

“What makes you think he will sell the company now?”

The man smiled greedily, his eyes suddenly cold and calculating. “He returned home a cripple. He cannot defy me. One way or another, we will control it!”

“Then get on with it! We don’t want any more delays.” They were silent for several minutes while Allison smoked his cigar. When he spoke again, his voice was far away. “Do you remember when we formed the consortium?  Eighteen fifty-nine,” he answered himself. “It was something I had always dreamed of, and when I was certain that war would become a reality, I was certain, too, that my dream would come to life.”

“And it has!”

“Almost. Oh yes, we control the majority of shipping for America, and we own most of the warehouses. But there is more to come.” Pausing, Allison took another draw on his cigar.

“Within the next two years, those independent shipping companies who survived the war will fold. We’ve seen to that by adjusting our rates or denying them warehouse space. Those who remain will live on the leftovers with which we cannot be bothered. We have no need of further shipping acquisitions, save this one company that still eludes us. However, we must start to expand again. South Africa is our next target.”

“South Africa?”

Allison’s smile was predatory. “I have reports on my desk in New York indicating that South Africa may become one of the major countries of the world. Spotty reports of gold, but the geologists say that it is but surface findings–the frosting on the cake, so to speak.”

“The consortium plans to diversify into mining?” the man asked, hiding his surprise.

“There have been isolated discoveries of quality diamonds unlike any others. My sources believe that within the next five years, South Africa will become one of the richest countries in the world. Because of this information, I have just gotten several valuable shipping contracts with the largest exporter in Cape Town. I am also in the process of negotiating with a mining company.

“In two more years, your share of the consortium will make you one of the richest men in the world. You, the others, and I will control not only the economy of the nation, but the politics and the people themselves! We will be in control of our world. We will be the economic rulers, far above those who seek to manipulate others merely through politics. We shall control the economy of America, and therefore the country itself: I from the East, you ruling over the South from Virginia to Louisiana, and those bumbling fools, Murdock and Caruthers, will help us control the West.”

The man smiled conspiratorially at Allison. He noted the fanatical glint in James Allison’s eyes and–not for the first time since he had joined the consortium–realized the shipping magnate was insane. Yet this did not bother him, for he too had plans, and the consortium was a major part of them. To humor Allison–who could, after all, have him killed at any moment–the man added, “I will have everything under control, I guarantee you. Tell that to the others.”

“I already have,” Allison said ominously.

~~~~~

Seventeen miles from where James Allison and his companion sat, Alana stood on Riverbend’s small dock, beneath the full moon, staring at the calm surface of the Ashley River. A week had passed since Jason and Rafe had arrived at Riverbend, and her emotions had become more confused than ever.

Above her, the stars spread out in a jeweled canopy, an umbrella of shimmering lights that should have made her feel at peace with herself, but they did not. An owl hooted from deep in the woods across the river. Crickets called to their mates, and the sounds of small animals echoed in the woods. Yet these familiar sounds gave her no comfort.

The lazy creaking of the old wooden dock was a lullaby she’d heard all her life, but tonight it grated in her ears. A fish jumped toward the heavens, but she did not see its iridescent beauty; all she saw was a disruption of the smoothness of the Ashley’s surface.

Alana closed her eyes, but the instant she did, memories rocketed through her mind. For the past week, her sleep had been troubled by a single, constantly repeated dream, a dream best not thought of. But the more she tried to ignore it, the more persistent it became.

Not once before in her life had she ever dreamed of a man, much less dreamed of sharing her body with him and relishing every moment of it. Yet in this dream, she had given herself to Rafe Montgomery, and she had been glad.

Standing in the cool night air, Alana felt her body reacting to the dream. The tips of her breasts grew rigid and rasped against the fabric of her bodice. A feeling deep within her, part ache, part need, called out to her. Subconsciously, she clamped her thighs together, doing her best to ease the ache spreading through her.

The last seven days had been the longest of her life. She’d felt as though she were walking on eggshells, afraid of giving in to her emotions, and afraid of not giving in. The thought of spending the rest of her life caring for Jason was not one she wanted to dwell on, yet neither was the thought that Rafe would soon be gone from her life.

After her confrontation with Rafe, Alana had scarcely slept. She had replayed their encounter again and again in her mind, and in the morning, her first thought had been of whether he had left as he had said he would, or if he’d remained. Alana did not know of Lorelei’s intervention, and she had gone downstairs with a heavy heart.

When she had found Rafe below, drinking coffee as the sun rose, a wave of love-laced sadness had washed through her. Her heart had swelled at his presence, even as her mind spun in confusion. She had wondered how she could feel the way she did about Rafe when the man she was to marry was not twenty feet away.

When they’d faced each other that day, she’d realized how dangerous their situation was. From that moment on, she’d done her best to avoid being alone with Rafe. And although his presence seemed to throw her into confusion, the knowledge that he was nearby also aided her ability to cope with Jason. Rafe treated her quite formally, and never spoke of what had happened that first night.

The afternoon of Jason’s first day home, Alana had sat with him and planned their wedding. No matter what she’d suggested, he had agreed–and had constantly declared that he would not hold Alana to this wedding.

Each time he’d offered her escape, the conviction behind his words had dwindled until she knew he was but mouthing them. No, Alana could not leave him in his time of need, as he had not left her.

But after a week of being near Rafe, there was no doubt in Alana’s mind that she had found the man she loved and had given him her heart, although she could not tell him so.

During the endlessly long hours of each day, she and Rafe had been players in a tense game. When he was near, she was conscious of the way her hands trembled as she fought not to touch him. When they walked side by side in the garden, she never once let her hand accidentally brush his, although she could feel the heat of his body near hers.

Whenever she dropped her guard and raised her eyes to look at him, her head grew light and her body heavy with desire–desire that directed even her dreaming thoughts in a way that shocked her, embarrassed her, and made her half-insane with an impossible longing for him. She would wake in the morning, her breasts swollen, her stomach knotted, and her loins aching. At those times, Alana made herself think of Jason, lying helpless in the library. She vowed to be a proper wife to him–although they could never be lovers.

Facing the truth boldly, Alana accepted the fact that once she had wed Jason, her body would never know another’s. Jason would never father children, and her womb would never fill with life. Her breasts would never know the hungry mouth of a child.

“Dear God, make me strong,” she pleaded as her eyes searched the heavens. No tears spilled onto her cheeks, and none had fallen since she’d fled the salon after pleading with Rafe to stay. She would not allow any weakness to overcome her and take her from the path she must walk.

~~~~~

Rafe paced the confines of the study, the glass of whiskey in his hand forgotten as he tried to calm his thoughts. He had hoped to be gone by the end of the week, but the pastor had sent word that it would be at least two weeks before he would be able to hold the wedding service.

Two weeks, he thought grimly, two weeks of torture and denial. he shook his head—it would fourteen days that would have to last a lifetime.

Rafe stopped walking and shook his head in amazement. Rafe Montgomery, the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco, the man who had always had his pick of women, and the man who had always left them behind, was in love with the one woman he could never have.

Putting his glass down, he left the study and stepped outside onto the terrace, which faced the river. The restless energy that had constantly dogged him would not subside. Leaving the terrace, he walked along the path that led to the river.

When he stood on the center of the wooden overpass that bridged the series of rice fields, he paused. The light of the full moon lit the land around him, and he saw, not thirty feet ahead on the old receiving dock, Alana’s silhouette.

Go back, he cautioned himself even as he started to cross the distance that separated them. When he reached the dock, he stopped. His eyes roamed Alana’s form, coming to rest upon her profile. She was looking up at the stars, and he could not bring himself to speak.

Her skin glowed soft silver in the moonlight. He saw lines of tension near her eyes, and his heart went out to her.

And illuminated by the silvery light, Rafe suddenly realized the duality that was Alana. Just beneath the surface, there was another Alana, a woman waiting to be set free from the bonds that held her back.

Then he knew why she was different from other women and, not for the first time, Rafe wondered why Alana could not see herself as others saw her.

So Rafe marveled at her beauty for her, because he knew she did not see it herself. Perhaps her naïveté even enhanced her beauty. Rafe knew that Alana was one of those rare women who possessed the ability to make men not only desire her but push themselves to any length to satisfy their desire.