Giant of Mesabi

"Yes," he insisted, straightening to his feet.

He said goodbye to each of them in turn and started from the room. Alanna had remained seated until she felt the expectant looks from her parents and realized they thought she would want to accompany him to the door, so the could say good-night alone. With gritted teeth, she rose quickly.

"I'll see you to the door, Rolt," she called after him.

He halted in the doorway to the hall and waited until she had joined him. "There isn't any need," he told her. His hand cupped the side of her face. "It's been a hectic evening, all things considered. Have an early night and I'll see you tomorrow."

Her hand gripped his wrist. She knew he intended to kiss her. There was nothing she could do to stop him with her parents and Ruth looking on. That was the way Rolt had planned it—the glint in his eyes told her so.

His mouth closed warmly over hers. She kept her lips cool and unresponsive. She would show him that just because she had been putty in his hands once, it wasn't going to always be true. In fact, she was determined it would never happen again.

When he lifted his head, her eyes glittered triumphantly. How do you like kissing an ice cube? her gaze taunted. His mouth twisted in dry amusement.

"You can do better than that," he murmured for her hearing alone. "But I'll wait for another time to prove it to you."

"You're in for a long wait," she muttered, smiling sweetly for her parents' benefit.

His thumb rubbed the corner of her mouth for a second, then he released her.

"Goodnight, darling. Sleep well."

The endearment had been a deliberate taunt. So had the wish for a good night's sleep. Neither was true. She would never he his darling and she knew she wouldn't sleep.

"Goodnight, Rolt."

It was the first of a succession of nights that Alanna had to endure. Her parents expected her to be with Rolt and she had little recourse but to see him. Although she constantly had to steel herself against his touch or an arm around her shoulders, an occasional kiss, Rolt didn't make any attempt to make love to her.

In a way, she found it strange. But she reasoned that he was trying to win her by degrees, getting her to trust him, then taking advantage of it. As far as she was concerned he had proved that he wasn't to be trusted.

Mostly Alanna didn't have much time to think about what she was doing. There was shopping to be done, a simple wedding dress and a small trousseau, Alanna insisted it be small because she knew her father could afford nothing else and because she didn't care.

THE MORNING OF HER WEDDING it was raining—sheets of water driving against the window pane of her bedroom. It seemed fitting that it should rain, she thought, as her mother helped her dress. According to superstition, a marriage was headed for trouble if it rained on the bride on her wedding day. Alanna considered it a good omen for her plans.

When she rode with her parents to the church, a shaft of sunlight pierced the dark clouds. She bit her lip tightly to keep from screaming for it to go away. It was only a silly superstition. She would never be happy married to Rolt whether the sun shone on her wedding day or not.

When she left the church on her husband's arm, the sky was clearing. Everything appeared freshly scrubbed and crystal bright, the air refreshing and clean. Alanna didn't notice the vivid green of the trees as they drove to her parents' house for the small wedding reception.

Stoically she endured the endless offers of congratulations and best wishes. She couldn't accept any of them honestly, so she simply smiled and nodded. If any of the guests noticed her quietness, they attributed it to bridal jitters. She kept smiling until she was virtually gritting her teeth to maintain the brittle pose.

At last Rolt suggested that they could leave. Alanna nodded a quick agreement, her rigid muscles relaxing briefly against the arm that had rarely left her waist. As she embraced her parents, she experienced a qualm of misgiving about what she was doing and why, but pushed it aside.

Amidst a shower of rice, she left the house with Rolt. His black car was parked in the drive. Only it wasn't solid black any more. There were white curls and stripes and slogans of Just Married and His and Hers painted on the sides, decorations done in good fun. But Alanna didn't find them amusing. It only served to point out that she had married Rolt for revenge and not love.

"You can relax now, Alanna. It's over," Rolt said dryly after reversing the car on to the road.

"Yes." At least the need to keep up a pretense was over. With a sigh, she leaned against the seat back. "How long will it take to reach your house?"

"It's about a twenty-minute drive from here to our home," he answered with quiet emphasis.

The silence during the drive was mutually enforced. There had never been any suggestion that their wedding night would be spent anywhere but at Rolt's house. Had he suggested spending the weekend at a hotel, Alanna would have refused. A hotel room was dominated by the bed. In a house, there were other rooms.

She had never been to his house, never seen it. Her father had taken most of her things, these that weren't packed in the suitcases now in the truck of the car, to the house the day before. She knew its general direction and that it was in the country near a lake.

Tall pines overshadowed the lane leading to the house. They grew so close to the road that it was nearly like driving through a tunnel. In a clearing just below the crest of a hill stood the house. It was built of unfinished cedar, rustic and rambling, blending naturally with its forest surroundings.

Attractive, Alanna admitted, in spite of the fact, that it belonged to Rolt. The car stopped and he walked around to open her door.

"My suitcases," she reminded him as he walked toward the wooden steps leading to the front door.