by Janet Dailey
"The study, where I sometimes work in the evenings," he said, and continued into the dining room.
Alanna looked in briefly, and had the sensation of a warm, dark cave, lined with books and dark leather furniture and the same pale beige carpet.
"The dining room, and beyond it the sun deck." There was a liberal use of ochres and bronzed golds in the sun-filled room and a breathtaking view of the lake at the bottom of the hill. "The kitchen is through there." His hand waved toward a wide arch and the native wood tone of the cupboards that could partially be seen. Alanna glanced around the opening at the kitchen filled with modem appliances in a setting that was decidedly homespun. She followed when Rolt returned to the hall and the open L-shaped staircase leading to the second floor.
At the top of the stairs, another wide hall encircled, the open stairwell, protected by a smoothly finished cedar railing to match the paneled walls. Three doors branched off from the hall, two on the front side of the house and one on the lake side.
"The bedrooms," stated Rolt.
"Obviously," she shrugged dryly.
"The two on the other side are the guest rooms and this is the main bedroom." He opened the door to the main bedroom as she had expected he would.
A king-size bed dominated the spacious room, a spread of shimmering brown velvet coveting its vast width. Windows flanked the bed, parted squares running nearly floor to ceiling. Again there was a panoramic view of the tree-lined lake, glittering mirror-smooth in the distance.
"Very nice," Alanna commented with marked indifference.
"There's a walk-in closet behind that door." Rolt gestured toward the left. "And the private bathroom is on the fight side. You can look around while I bring your suitcases up."
Alanna looked at the doors he had indicated, but didn't investigate. Nor did she make any remark about the suitcases. She didn't move until she heard Rolt at the bottom of the stairs. Then she walked into the hallway and around the stairwell to the other bedrooms. Both were small, at least by the standard of the master bedroom, and tastefully furnished. When she heard Rolt reenter the house, she walked quickly back to the master bedroom. Setting her two suitcases near the bed, he straightened, giving her a long, level look as if trying to measure her mood.
Aloofly she turned around to face the window, wanting to take no chances that he might read what was on her mind.
"If you'll excuse me—" mockery laced with cynicism was in his voice "—I'll change my clothes."
"Into something more comfortable?" she inquired acidly.
"Exactly." His mouth quirked. "I don't generally sit around the house in a suit and tie."
Alanna didn't move from the window as he entered the walk-in closet. Minutes later he emerged. Her heartbeat quickened in alarm.
"Don't worry," his voice laughed silently at her frozen position. "It's quite safe to turn around."
With a defiant toss of her head, Alanna glanced over her shoulder, bracing herself only to find there was no need. Rolt was wearing a pair of brushed denims and a patterned shirt of blue and brown. Amusement glittered in his eyes as he noted the relief that flashed across her face.
"While you unpack your things, I'm going to wash the wedding decorations off the car." Laughter lurked at the corners of his mouth.
With a brief mocking nod, he left again. For the second time, Alanna waited until he was at the bottom of the stairs. Then she picked up both suitcases and carried them across the hall to one of the spare bedrooms. Opening the suitcases, she began unpacking her clothes and putting them away. The first suitcase was empty and the second one had only a few items left in it when she heard the front door open and close. She paused for several seconds, straining to hear the sounds of Rolt's footsteps on the thick carpet. She heard him on the stairs and stiffened for an instant, nibbling apprehensively at her lower lip as he reached the top.
The door to the spare room where Alanna stood was ajar. She knew that when Rolt didn't find her in the master bedroom, he would notice it. A second later he was in the hall. Quickly she busied her fingers with buttoning a blouse on a wire hanger. Although her back was to the door, and the carpet muffled his footsteps, she knew the very instant he entered the room, and prickles ran along the back of her neck.
"What are you doing in here?" As if he hadn't already guessed.
"Unpacking," Alanna made a show of making certain the blouse hung straight, the collar smooth.
"The master bedroom is across the hall," Rolt said very calmly, making it sound as if he thought she wasn't already acquainted with the fact.
"I prefer this one," she responded airily, and walked to the closet to hang the blouse with the other clothes she had put there.
"Is that right?" he asked, his voice dry and low.
Returning to the suitcase, Alanna was forced to let her gaze at least ricochet off his. His features were taut and grim, an unyielding hardness that made her think he would rip her clothes from the closet and carry them into the master bedroom. But she couldn't back down and she wouldn't.
"Do you have any objections?" She kept the air of unconcern in her voice as she took another blouse from the case and began draping it around a hanger. The tension in the air was now electrically charged.
"Plenty of objections," he responded. Then his tone visibly relaxed. "But we'll discuss them in detail later."
Pivoting, he left the room, letting his silent threat intimidate her almost as effectively as his presence had done. She sat weakly on the bed, the blouse rumpled in her lap. It hadn't been exactly a battle, just another small skirmish. She had escaped unscathed so far. She could only cross her fingers and hope that her luck would hold.
Half an hour later, her clothes were all put away and she had changed out of the simple white dress she had been married in and into a scarlet pantsuit. The wide flared legs swirled about her ankles like a long skirt. The draping neckline of the tunic-styled top accented her slender throat.
She stood in front of the mirror, idly flipping the ends of her hair with a brush. She couldn't spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in the bedroom, and there was no longer any reason to stay. With a sigh, she placed the hairbrush on the dresser top and walked into the hall. There hadn't been a sound from downstairs. She had no idea if Rolt was in the house.
At the bottom of the stairs, she saw him out on the sun deck. One foot was on the lower railing running around the edge. An elbow rested on his knee as he gazed down the hill at the lake. Alanna debated whether to join him or to wait in the living room for him to come in search of her.
She was about to decide on the living room, feeling it might not be wise to take the battle to the enemy. She still had to store up her defenses. At that moment, Rolt straightened and turned, looking directly at her, evidently able to see through the window as clearly as she could.
"The view of the lake is excellent from here," he said.
Startled at the clearness of his voice when he was outside and she was in, it took Alanna a full second to realize that the door to the sun deck was open.
She hesitated another second before walking to the door.
Rolt leaned a hip against the railing and waited. The disturbing intensity of his gaze nearly made her turn around and go back into the house. She wasn't afraid, she reminded herself, and kept walking steadily to the rail stopping two feet to his left.
The lake was what he had invited her to see, so that was what she looked at. The sun deck was elevated above the slope of the hill. There had been a careful clearing of trees from the hill to keep the view from being obstructed and still leave foliage on the hillside.
"All settled in?" came his low, amused voice.
"Very comfortable, yes," she nodded, adding coolly, "it's quite a view of the lake."
"I like it," Rolt answered simply.
"Isn't it inconvenient to live in the country, especially in winter when the roads are bad and blocked with snow?" Alanna needed to keep the conversation going. For some reason, she could
n't tolerate silence between them with this serenely beautiful view before them. She seized on the first thought that came to mind.
"Sometimes," Rolt acknowledged. "But after the noise of the plant, and the hustle, I like the peace and quiet here. No neighbors to trouble you—human neighbors that is. Just the coyote and squirrel and the loon."
No neighbors, Alanna thought, none that she could run to, whatever the reason. The thought chilled her. She was all alone out here with Rolt. She couldn't help wondering how long the sleeping giant of Mesabi would continue to sleep.
"Alanna."
She jumped at the sound of her name. She tried to conceal it by turning to face him, but she saw the flick of his eyebrow that said he had seen.
"There was something I wanted to ask you," Rolt said.
"What's that?" She brushed a stray curl from her cheek, searching her mind for any question he might want to ask and coming up blank.
"Were you planning to cook tonight's dinner or shall I?" The impulse was to say that she wasn't very hungry. The fact was her stomach felt suddenly very empty at the mention of dinner.
"I will," she agreed, glad of something to do that would take her out of Rolt's company.
Chapter Seven
THE SUN LINGERED with infuriating stubbornness before finally sinking behind the western horizon to end the long summer day. Twilight challenged the encroaching darkness for a brief time, then fled after the sun.
Its departure was Alanna's signal to exit. With a pretense at casualness, she closed the unabsorbing magazine and tossed it negligently on the seat cushion beside her. The action attracted the blue of Rolt's gaze. They had barely exchanged a word all evening.
The threatened discussion of his objections to the sleeping arrangements hadn't taken place. Alanna guessed that he didn't intend the discussion to take place in the living room. She was certain he had another room in mind. Rising from the sofa, she flicked him a deliberately cool glance.
"Goodnight, Rolt," she said in an offhand way, and walked toward the staircase in the hall.
"Turning in so early?" His response was dry with mockery.
Alanna paused on the first step, her hand resting on the banister post. "It's been a long day," she answered diffidently.
There wasn't any wish from Rolt that she have a good night. She took note of the omission as she mounted the stairs. It served to stiffen her resolve. Inside her room, she locked the door. Then, doubting the strength of the lock, she hurried to the long dresser and began pushing it in front of the door, thankful there were wheels on the bottom.
Feeling a little more secure, she glanced around the room, her gaze stopping on the bathroom door. The two guests shared the same bath. Alanna rushed to lock that door and dragged a chair in front of it. There, she thought with satisfaction, the entrances are blocked. Let Rolt try to make his objections now!
Stripping, she changed into her nightgown and robe. It was a clinging silk-like material, ivory with an abundance of lace about the bodice, part of the trousseau her mother had insisted she buy. Alanna would have preferred her shapeless cotton gown, but wasn't about to go look for it now.
Sleep was far from her thoughts. Alanna didn't even go near the bed. She was intelligent enough to realize that her defenses weren't necessarily impregnable. If Rolt should breach them, she didn't want to be lying in bed when he entered the room.
Pacing restlessly, she waited. Her mind ran ahead, rehearsing all the vile, hateful things she would say to him—disgusting, loathsome, a contemptible beast, barbaric and cruel. Alanna would remind him in vindictive terms of the way he had blackmailed her.
If he dared come near her, she would bite and claw at him like a wildcat. Exhilaration flamed through her veins. She was ready to do battle. All her weapons were at hand, ready for use. And she waited for the opportunity, her eyes sparkling, her air confident.
She waited and waited and waited. Ten-thirty, eleven o'clock, eleven-thirty, and still there was no siege at her door. From her window, she could see the square of light shining out from the living room below. Weariness was invading her muscles. The bed looked more and more inviting, but she resolutely remained upright. The mounting tension scraped at her already raw nerves.
Walking to the window for what seemed the hundredth time, she leaned against the frame. What was he doing down there? Why was he waiting? For her to grow tired and lower her defenses?
She stared into the darkness. Then, blinking in disbelief, she realized that the living room light was off. Rolt must be coming upstairs. Spinning, she faced the door.
Her fingers clutched the top of the robe together. She suddenly had visions of Rolt bursting through the door, laughing at the verbal abuse she hurled at him, stripping the gown from her and throwing her onto the bed. Her lips could almost feel the arousing warmth of his mouth.
She thrust the image away. That would never happen. Rolt would not overwhelm her without first feeling the fury of her wrath. Quickly she turned off the light, throwing the room into darkness. Let him think she was in bed asleep. Holding her breath, she listened.
Rolt was at the top of the stairs and moving along the hall. A door opened and closed—it had to be the master bedroom. There was a series of indefinable sounds that might be made by someone getting ready for bed. Water ran briefly, then silence.
Minutes ticked by and Alanna watched the door. There was absolutely no movement from the master bedroom. Gradually she was forced to realize that Rolt had gone to bed. To bed! The silent scream of frustration exploded inside her. How dare he? This was their wedding night! He should be at her door! How could he go to bed! Alanna flung herself on the bed, boating the pillow with impotent rage.
Nearly an hour later she accepted the fact that Rolt had indeed gone to bed and crawled beneath the covers of her own. She slept fitfully, waking at the slightest night sound, till finally, near dawn, exhaustion drugged her into a heavy sleep.
Slowly, reluctantly, she awakened to a midmorning sun, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar room. Remembering where she was, she tensed, listening. There was only silence. Where was Rolt? There was a noise outside her window. Slipping from under the covers, she went to investigate.
In the drive below she could see Rolt walking toward the corner of the house. He was carrying a rod and reel and tackle box. She watched him disappear around the house in the direction of the lake. She didn't question her good fortune at being left alone, but took advantage of it instead.
The chair was moved away from the bathroom door. The porcelain tub beckoned to her as she entered. A long soak would ease the aching tiredness of her muscles and help eliminate the drugged feeling of her senses. She turned on the taps and added a generous amount of the bubble bath she found on the shelf, then while the tub was filling with water, she brushed the woolly taste from her mouth and laid out the clothes she would wear on the bed.
Later, immersed up to her neck, Alanna felt deliciously indulged and pampered. Frothy bubbles peaked and mounded around her. The comfortably hot water was soothing. She rested her head against the back of the tub and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations.
The door to the second bedroom opened. Foolishly she had forgotten to lock it. She sat up with a start and just as quickly sank below the concealing bubbles. She had forgotten about Rolt. She couldn't do that any more. He was leaning against the door frame, staring at her.
"Get out of here!" she hurled indignantly.
"Why?" The bemused glitter in his eyes betrayed the bland expression on his face.
"I'm taking a bath, that's why," Alanna retorted.
"I noticed that." The grooves near his mouth deepened slightly.
"I would like some privacy." She pressed her lips tightly together. It wouldn't do to lose her temper when she was in such a vulnerable position.
"Does it bother you to have me watch?"
"You know it does," she hissed tautly.
"That's too bad." Rolt shrugged and folded his arms in front of him
. There was an unmistakable challenge in his stance that dared her to try to throw him out. "Are you going to be in there much longer? I'm getting hungry for breakfast."
"Go and fix your own!" Alanna glared, hating him intensely for putting her in such an awkward position.
"I couldn't deprive you of the privilege," he mocked.
That did it. "Privilege!" she exploded. "You've made the man I love think I'm some cheap, money-hungry tramp, then blackmailed me, using my parents, into marrying you. And you dare to suggest that fixing a meal for you is a privilege. You are the lowest, most contemptible being on earth! You're not even a being—you're a thing!"
His eyes grew cold and hard. "You've been rehearsing that little speech for quite a while, haven't you?" Rolt taunted harshly. "Do you have any more stored up?"
"Millions!"
"Don't stop now." His lips curled in a jeer. "Let's hear them all. I have plenty of time."
Alanna couldn't decide whether the bathwater had suddenly cooled or her temperature had risen to boiling point, but her skin suddenly felt cold. She wanted to be out of the tub, with something more substantial covering her than the slowly dissipating bubbles.
"Will you get out of here?" She choked on her anger.
"Come now, my little fishwife," he taunted again. "You haven't used disgusting and loathsome yet. How about repulsive? You do find me repulsive, don't you?" The hard and knowing glint in his eye reminded her of that time when she had responded unrestrainedly to his caresses.
The submerged washcloth drifted close to her hand. Her fingers closed around the saturated cloth. Blinded with anger, she flung it at his head, a spray of water scattering over the tiled floor, and a few drops landed harmlessly on his bronzed features.
"Get out of here!" Her voice trembled hoarsely.
"Discounting the fact that your aim was off, you should have thrown something more deadly than a washcloth," Rolt informed her, straightening away from the door frame and moving toward her with ominous purpose.