Free Sundown Crossing by Lynne Wilding Page B

Rolfe repeated though, fatalistically, he knew it was a waste of breath. It hurt him, immeasurably, but neither Papa nor Kurt believed him—they believed what made them more comfortable, that he had behaved without conscience, without honour. ‘Let me speak to Marta. I want to hear from her own mouth that I seduced her.’
    ‘No. She doesn’t want to see you or talk to you again, ever,’ Kurt said nastily. ‘Neither do I.’
    Papa held up his hand. He studied Kurt for a little while then trained his gaze on Rolfe. ‘Marta should be allowed to speak, Kurt. If only to once and for all dispel Rolfe’s illusion that she has feelings for him.’
    Rolfe watched Kurt shake his head. The gesture clearly said he was opposed to the idea. ‘What? Are you afraid you might hear something you don’t like, Kurt?’ he challenged. ‘That Marta prefers me to you.’
    ‘Bastard.’
    The next instant Kurt was on him, pummelling his head with his fists, flailing, striking wherever he could but Rolfe was quick and covered his face with his hands so that the damage done was minimal.
    ‘Stop. I will not have my sons brawling in front of me like common labourers,’ Paparoared. ‘Kurt, I understand how you feel but,’ he added forcefully, ‘you will control yourself. Get Marta. We will have an end to this now.’
    After Kurt left Rolfe dared not make eye contact with his father and once more the silence in the room became oppressive. The scuffle with Kurt had set his heart wildly racing but all he could think about was Marta. And, all he could do was hope and pray that she would be strong enough to stand up to Kurt, telling everyone where her true feelings lay. But deep down he knew something else, that no matter who Marta chose, an emotional wedge had been hammered into the Stenmark family, splitting it, and nothing would ever be the same again. Rolfe resigned himself to the knowledge that he, not Marta, would be seen as the perpetrator of the split. He was prepared to accept that if it meant that the woman he had fallen in love with would be his. Somehow, they would survive this ordeal and he believed he could do anything, become anything, with Marta by his side.
    The door clicked open. Kurt came in with Marta.
    The awkward silence continued until Papa broke it with, ‘Marta, my dear, you have been through a lot but two things need to be set straight. Come, sit by my desk.’ He motioned for Kurt to pull out a chair with side-arms for her to sit in.
    Rolfe watched Marta sit and fold her hands in her lap. She looked pale and tense as she glanced at each of them in turn. He smiled at her but shedidn’t return his smile, and he noted that Kurt stood at the side of her, his hand resting possessively on her right shoulder.
    Papa did not mince words. ‘Marta, Rolfe is under the impression that, according to his memory, on the night of the storm there was—this is awkward for an old man to say—no seduction. That the two of you willingly and mutually made love.’ Thick eyebrows forked together in a frown. ‘How do you respond to that, Marta?’
    ‘That isn’t how it was, Papa Carl. W-we were alone. I was…naked under the blanket. Rolfe began to kiss me. He was so strong, I was frightened…’
    ‘Bastard…’ Kurt repeated again half under his breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.
    ‘I-I didn’t know what to do.’ Marta’s tone faltered. ‘He gave me three brandies. I was—how do you say it?—fuzzy in the head. It was all, like a dream…’
    ‘Marta, that’s not true and you know it,’ Rolfe interrupted. ‘Just tell them the truth, liebling..’
    She stared at him with her upslanting eyes. Tears welled in them and her mouth trembled at the corners. ‘I…I am telling the truth, Rolfe. Y-you seduced me. Oohhh…’ Bowing her head, she began to cry quietly.
    Kurt nodded decisively, as did Papa.
    For several seconds Rolfe remained in shock, unable to think of what to do or say. What he didn’t realise was