Free Alana by Monica Barrie Page B

looked at him, but she could not allow herself to give in to her desires.
    “Better to not know his touch than to feel it once and never again,” she said again to herself. But she knew that when night fell and the heavy perfume of fall flowers bathed the air, her body would again tremble with unfulfilled desire, and her passions, so long dormant, would rise up to taunt her mercilessly.
    “Three more days,” she whispered to the air.
    Reining in her horse, Alana looked about. She was at the southern edge of Riverbend, which was the joining of her land and Jason Landow’s. In the distance, she saw the burned-out shell of his old plantation house, and again she felt the deep loss within her soul.
    Alana knew that in time she and Jason would reclaim the lands, long gone to weed, and cultivate them as they had been cultivated for over a hundred years.
    Sighing, Alana started toward the ruins.
    ~~~~~
    “I think you look rather elegant,” Rafe said as he studied Jason in the gray uniform of an infantry officer.
    Jason glared at him, his eyes not as glazed as usual. “The war is over; this army no longer exists,” he said tersely, flicking his fingers across the brass buttons of the jacket.
    “Does that make you any less an officer who served bravely for his cause?” Rafe asked sharply, refusing to listen to any more of Jason’s ill-tempered remarks.
    Each day found Rafe more raw-edged than ever. His one vain hope was that Jason would begin to return to life instead of running away from it–for if he did, Rafe could leave with the knowledge that Alana’s life might not be completely ruined.
    Silence fell between the two men. The seamstress removed the jacket, being careful not to prick Jason with any of the needles. Then she went over to Rafe and put on the jacket she had made for him to wear for the ceremony.
    As she worked, Rafe studied Jason. There were many things he wanted to say, but not until they were alone. When the seamstress finished and withdrew from the library, Rafe stepped close to the man in the wheeled chair. He spoke in a low voice, but the power behind his words cut through Jason’s barriers.
    “Don’t throw away what Alana is giving you, Jason. Accept it and live with it. Make something of your life together.”
    Jason stared at Rafe, his eyes open and clear. “I have nothing to use to make a life.”
    “Then let her go!” he snapped angrily.
    “She won’t let me–as you wouldn’t let me do what I wanted to do.”
    A cloud of anger swept across Rafe’s face. “If you wanted death so badly, Jason, nothing I have ever said would have stopped you. What you want, my friend, is pity!”
    Unexpectedly, Jason smiled. “How often did you say those words to me when we were in prison? Too often,” he answered for himself. “Perhaps you are right, perhaps what I want is pity. But damn it, man, I earned that pity when the rocket fragment destroyed my future.”
    “You unfeeling son of a bitch!” Rafe swore angrily. “That fragment has injured your spine, but not your mind. You’re destroying your future yourself!”
    Again, Jason smiled, and Rafe’s anger lessened.
    “Some pair we make, eh? I’ve lost my home and half my body, and you don’t even know what happened to everything that once was yours. We both have our crosses to bear, Rafe, and we must do it in our own ways.”
    “Is your way to inflict pain on another?”
    Jason stiffened, and the friendly lines that had softened his features disappeared. “If you were anyone else, I would challenge you, wheeled chair or no. But we two have survived hell together, and that surmounts anything we might say. I will forget you spoke those words. What Alana and I do is between us, and only us!”
    “Is it?” Rafe asked.
    Jason winced, and a low groan of pain escaped his lips. Damn him, Rafe thought, for hiding behind his injury. Then his anger abated, and the very pity that he had tried never to feel for Jason finally came out.
    Shaking his