Rolt stopped and she realized the music had ended. "All right," he conceded, "I'll tell you." He paused, his gaze running over her upturned face, his expression masked and unreadable. "Come to my office on Tuesday evening at six. I'll tell the guard at the gate to expect you."
"Tuesday?" She breathed a frowning protest.
"I'm leaving in the morning. I'll be out of town until then."
Her hands doubled into fists of frustration. "This is all a trick, isn't it?" she accused. "You're making all this up just to get me to meet you."
"The only way you can be positive of that is to meet me Tuesday and find out." The line of his mouth quirked in a mirthless smile. "Shall we go back to the table before Kurt gets impatient?"
Alanna pivoted sharply on her heel. He was deliberately being mysterious. She knew that no amount of anger or pleading would make Rolt tell her anything now, if there was even anything to tell. She wasn't convinced there was, but by the same token, she wasn't convinced there wasn't.
Although Rolt left almost as soon as they returned to the table, his brief appearance ruined the rest of Alanna's evening. She couldn't recapture that mood of contentment and happiness that had accompanied Kurt's avowal of love for her. She tried to respond with the same degree of sincerity, but she knew she was faking it, although she didn't think Kurt noticed it. Her mind was torn in two by concern for her parents' well-being and the knowledge that Rolt was still intent on making her his.
The waiting added to her conflict. She didn't know if Rolt knew something about her parents or if he was pretending that he did in order to get her to agree to meet him. But if it was the latter, what difference would that make? Just because she met him it didn't mean she was suddenly going to change her mind about him. So she had to concede that there was a very real possibility that Rolt did know something.
Twice during the intervening days she cornered her father and questioned him to glean any information that might give her a clue. His answers weren't any help. The conversations left her with the impression that his problem, according to him, was that he was tired, had a sore shoulder from playing golf, and was concerned about her mother. On the surface, they seemed satisfactory, but Rolt had made her suspicious.
Alanna frowned and tugged impatiently at the stubborn weed growing in the iris bed. She didn't want to meet Rolt tonight, but it seemed the only way to put an end to all her doubts and questions. The June sun was hot, perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades before being absorbed by the back-strap of her halter.
A car pulled into the driveway. Alanna paused to glance over her shoulder, rubbing the back of her gloved hand across her forehead. A sigh broke unexpectedly from her lips at the sight of Kurt stepping out of the car. It was not the reaction she should have had to the surprise visit from her prospective fiancé. Immediately she curved her lips into a warm smile of greeting as she straightened.
"Kurt, this is a surprise!" she declared.
"Talk about surprises," he laughed, his gaze running admiringly over her. "Somehow when I pictured Little Miss Mary working in her garden, I always saw her in ruffles and pinafores, not sexy shorts and top. I should visit her garden more often." His hands circled her waist and he kissed her soundly.
"Mmm," she sighed when he finally let her breathe again.
"Now I understand why she was so contrary. She was constantly being accosted by handsome men." His hands were still locked behind her back, holding her close to him. Alanna tipped her head back to gaze into his face. "Seriously, Kurt, how did you manage to get away from the plant in the middle of the day?"
"I had an errand to run, so I took a late lunch hour," he explained.
"And you just happened to be in the area and thought you would stop, is that it?" she asked, smiling.
The teasing laughter left his eyes as he unlocked his hands. "I came to complete the last of my errand," Kurt told her. "I stopped by the jewelers and picked this up."
He took a ring box from his pocket and opened it. "It's beautiful!" breathed Alanna. She gazed at the ring, one large diamond surrounded by a circlet of smaller ones in the shape of petals.
"To make it official, Alanna, will you marry me?" he asked softly.
"Yes." Her answer was almost inaudible. The ring somehow made it all seem so much more real and unchangeable.
"Let me have your hand," said Kurt, removing the ring from its velvet holder.
Alanna raised her left hand, hastily peeling the cotton glove off, and held it out to him. Reverently he slipped it on to her finger.
"I'm afraid it's too loose," he said with a sighing grimace.
"It doesn't matter," she protested, not wanting to lose her talisman. She felt it would protect her and she didn't want to think about from what.
"Yes, it does. I want it to be perfect—as perfect as you are, Alanna," he declared huskily.
"I'm not perfect," she denied.
"To me, you are." He slipped the ring from her finger, replacing it in the box. "The jeweler said he could easily size it. I'll take it back to him this afternoon and pick it up after work tonight. And the next time I put it on your finger, it won't come off."
"No." Alanna shook her head, gazing forlornly at the box but it was out of sight once more in his pocket.
He crooked his forefinger under her chin and raised it. "We'll do it up right tonight. Champagne, candlelight, the works," he promised. "A real celebration."