The fiery sun was sinking rapidly, shedding burnished golden rays over the silent bushveld, causing it to smoulder beneath a mist of orange smoke. Loretta stood on the stoep and cast an appreciative eye over the whole impressive scene. She sighed, though, and wondered if she had done the right thing in coming out here, to this part of Africa where she had hoped to find Lee, and perhaps happiness and contentment. But Lee was away for two weeks, taking a holiday in Durban. His home was all closed up and so his employer had suggested she stay in his house until Lee arrived back home.
Paul Tremayne… Tall and handsome and confident. An Englishman who had lived on the citrus estate all his life, his father having inherited it from a distant cousin who was an Afrikaner. His home, a rambling colonial style mansion-or that was Loretta's description of it, since it seemed to have the proportions of a mansion-stood in extensive grounds filled with exotic trees and flowers, with sweeping lawns and fountains, a swimming pool and tennis court and many shady paths and arbors.
Paul Tremayne… Arrogant and critical in his initial examination of her… and there was something very strange about him whenever she mentioned Lee. Paul was hiding something and she felt she must in the end ask him what it was.
She had managed all right to arrive here, having been able to hire a car and driver at the airport. She had previously written to Lee, telling him she was coming but he had already left and as a result was not at the airport to meet her. When she arrived it was to find the house closed up and in a sort of panic she had gone up to the front door of Rikuyu Lodge and a few moments later she was inside the house waiting for the owner to come to her. The black servant had obviously been told, on carrying her message to his employer, that she was to be shown into the sitting-room and this was where she met Paul Tremayne….
From the first moment something had stirred within her; she had felt the fine golden hairs rise on her forearms, had experienced feathers along her spine, had wondered why her pulses had quickened; and the answer to all this was that she was in a panic, for she had nowhere to lay her head that night-unless of course there was a town nearby and an hotel. In a panic…. Why, then, did she find her eyes glued to that handsome face? That had nothing to do with fear. She was examining every detail from the dark brown hair to the wide forehead, the straight dark brows above piercing eyes that were tawny brown, and then she was looking at his other features, the high cheek bones, the lean, aquiline quality of his face in general, the mouth which though thin was somehow sensuous… and she found herself thinking of what it would be like to feel those lips on hers.
Staggered by such thoughts, she lowered her head, but not before the keen eyes of Paul Tremayne had caught sight of her risen colour. She heard his dry tone inquiring what was the matter and knew that he was mocking her, fully aware that he was having some profound effect on her. Temper was difficult to control as she felt it rise within her like something physical. He had obviously become used to women being affected by his magnetism, his dynamic personality-to say nothing of his superlative good looks. Around thirty, she decided, but with all the confidence of a mature forty or more. She wondered if he were married and had since learned that he was not. But he was probably contemplating marriage, she thought, and felt an inexplicable tinge of dejection and-was it anxiety?
Why she should care whom he married not only puzzled but irritated her. Olga Davenport might not be what appealed to women but there was no denying she possessed all that any man could desire-beauty, figure, and wealth thrown in as a bonus to the man who chose her for his wife.
'Enjoying the sunset?' The voice was dry and satirical; she turned to look up into his face, a bronzed face with tiny lines fanning out from the corners of the eyes, lines created by his narrowing his eyes against the fierce African sun.
'Yes-it is beautiful.' She paused, feeling extremely awkward, and said in a hurry, 'It's so lovely and cool now, after the awful heat of this afternoon.'
'January is one of our hottest months.' He moved, his steps long and smooth, and stood by the wooden railing against which Loretta was leaning, but a few yards away. She cast him a sidelong glance and he turned before she could examine his profile. 'We're south of the Equator and so the seasons are a reversal from what you have in England.'
She nodded automatically, still feeling awkward in his almost godlike presence. He seemed so magnificent that he not only overawed her but made her decidedly uncomfortable.
And yet she found herself hoping he would not leave her yet awhile….
'I believe you have frost in July? That seems strange….' Her voice trailed away to a self-conscious silence. She was talking for the sake of it and realised by the sound of her own voice that she was hoping to gain confidence.
'Winter is June through August.' Dry the tone and edged with amusement. 'How long are you expecting to be here?'
'I haven't given it a thought.' Three days had passed since her first encounter with the wealthy owner of Rikuyu Lodge and the vast estate which went with it. 'I wish I'd been able to see Lee before he left.'
'As I explained, you only just missed him by one day. You've to wait another ten days before he arrives back.'
'He always goes away for his annual break?' Paul had told her that Lee was the manager of the estate, but Loretta rather thought that 'under-manager' would be more appropriate, as she could not imagine Paul Tremayne handing over the reins completely to anyone else. He would be in on everything himself, she decided, and woe betide those who might be foolish enough to shirk their duty.
'Not always, but this year was a little different.'
She looked swiftly at him. Again she had detected that strangeness in his manner and the added unfathomable inflection in his voice. She hesitated, then asked him outright if there was anything she should know about Lee.
'I've told you why I am here,' she added. 'The letter which was never delivered-' She spread her hands. 'I haven't kept anything back.'
The keen tawny eyes rested on her for one silent moment before he spoke. 'You are thinking that I'm keeping something back?' His jaw had hardened and his mouth seemed just a little thinner than before.
'Yes, I feel sure you are keeping something important from me.' She did not know what to expect, but certainly she did not suppose that Lee was married, otherwise she would have been informed of it right away.
She was, therefore, staggered when after another pause she was hearing her companion say, 'Lee is married, Miss Sedgewick-has been for the last three and a half years.' He had turned, so that he could be sure of noticing her reaction.
'Married?' She had given a start, but now all he saw was a sudden pallor spreading over her cheeks. 'Then why didn't you say so immediately? I'd not be staying here if I'd known he was married.'
A strange, unfathomable silence followed her words, and as she stared inquiringly into the bronzed countenance she had the most odd impression that he had kept the truth from her in order to keep her here! But that was absurd! Why on earth should a man like Paul Tremayne wish to keep her here?
'Perhaps it was because, although he is married, Lee is separated from his wife-'
'Separated!' she cried, a deep sadness darkening her eyes. 'You mean, he isn't happy?'
The fine mouth curled in what could only be described as a sneer.
'How can any separated couple be happy? They live with the knowledge that they've made a mistake-one of the most serious mistakes one can make in one's life.'
'I'm sorry to hear that he's separated. Where is he now, then?'
'As a matter of fact, he's gone to Durban because his wife is there. I guess he hopes for a reconciliation, but perhaps Flora is not cut out for this kind of life. At all events, she has gone back to her parents.'
Loretta said, avoiding his eyes, 'How old is she?'
'Much older than you,' was his immediate reply. 'I believe she's in her mid-thirties.'
'I see….'
'How old are you?'
'Twenty-five.'
'Lee is almost fifty-'
'Forty-seven,' she inserted quickly and saw his mouth lift at the corners in that sardonic way which was beginning to rile her.
'Forty-seven's not far from fifty. He's old enough to be your father.'
She frowned. This man was suddenly becoming far too familiar. At first he had been remote, unapproachable… but now…. She tried to move but failed as he took a step which brought him closer to her.
'We were in love,' she said and Paul threw back his head and laughed.
'You told me your mother died eighteen months ago. When did your father die?'
'When I was seven.' Her eyes had moved; she was fascinated by the long lean fingers resting on the rail, brown fingers, flexible, with a hidden strength beneath that sun-scorched skin.
'Then it is plain that you regarded Lee as a father-'
'No such thing!' she denied hotly. 'He was not in the least fatherly in his attitude towards me.'
At that she found her body subjected to a long-lasting appraisal while he allowed his eyes to rove from her face to her throat and to the delicate slope of her shoulders. She felt the colour rise in her cheeks as he rested his gaze on the firm contours of her breasts and wished absurdly that she had put on a loose-fitting shirt instead of this dress, which fitted snugly both to her breasts and waist before flowing out in a circular skirt which, though hiding her lower curves from his interested eyes, yet at the same time was probably tantalisingly intriguing to a man as plainly observant as the one who was causing her to blush and to fidget and wish she were somewhere else.
As if he understood her feelings and enjoyed his ability to affect her in this way his expression changed to one of sardonic amusement and his voice fully reflected this as he said, 'No, I don't suppose he was. It would be difficult for a man to treat a woman like you in a fatherly way.' His eyes lit with humour as her colour deepened. 'Nevertheless, on your part, it was a father and daughter relationship, even though you might not have been aware of it.'
'You obviously consider yourself to be something of a psychologist,' she flashed, eyes sparkling in a way that seemed both to attract his interest and his admiration. She felt that although he would be undisputed master in his own house he nevertheless would not want his wife to be totally without spirit.
'One has no need to be particularly clever to draw those conclusions.' Suddenly he seemed remote, indifferent, and she wanted to hold his interest, to keep him with her. All most illogical since she disliked the man exceedingly, considering him to be far too sure of himself, too arrogant, and too condescending towards herself. She thought of his girlfriend, who had come to dinner the night before last, and she wondered if Paul ever treated her in this high-handed way. Loretta rather thought that Olga would be able to give almost as much as she received, for she too had been arrogant, condescending towards Loretta and obviously not pleased to find her there, staying in Paul's home. Her voice had been curt, her questions impertinent, of the kind which almost made Loretta forget she was a guest in the house of the girl's man friend. Nothing would have afforded Loretta more satisfaction than to retaliate but instead she had managed to remain calm and even friendly in her conversation with the girl.
'I suppose,' said Loretta at last, 'that as long as Lee is married I ought to be thinking of leaving, since there is no longer any point in my staying.'
To her surprise he frowned almost darkly at her and she again had that inexplicable impression that he wanted her to stay. His next words served to strengthen the idea as he said quietly, his eyes fixed on her face, a strange expression in their depths, 'As long as you've spent your legacy on this trip you might as well make the most of it. It would be foolish to leave now, after only a few days.'
'But-' She stared at him bewilderedly. 'Is there any point, Mr. Tremayne?'
'I did mention that he is separated.'
'But hoping for a reconciliation.'
'That was merely a conclusion I had come to and it could be a wrong one.'
'If he should come back with his wife-'
'Then you could begin to think of leaving,' he broke in curtly. 'Meanwhile, be my guest and enjoy your stay.'
Her eyes widened. 'Be your guest?' she echoed. 'How long for?' Why was her heart beginning to race, her pulses becoming erratic?
'For as long as you like.'
'You mean-even after Lee returns?'
'I feel you'd be better here, where there are servants living in, than staying alone with Lee-that is, presupposing he returns without his wife. Lee has no servants living in, just a houseboy who goes in daily and returns to his family in the kraal at night. Should Lee have his wife with him then you'd have no alternative than to stay here, in my house.'
So cool, this shaping of arrangements for her! Who did he think he was, telling her what she must do? Had he made a courteous invitation she could have accepted, but as it was she asked curtly if there was an hotel in the town of Falburg which was no more than five miles away.
'I'll stay there until I can arrange a flight back home,' she ended with a tart inflection which brought his straight dark brows together in a frown which made her feel like a child about to be reprimanded.
'Firstly, it would not be proper for you to stay there alone, and secondly, it is not a comfortable hotel. You'll be wiser to accept my invitation and stay here.' Firm the tone and implacable the light in those tawny eyes.
Much to her chagrin Loretta found herself saying, almost meekly, 'If the hotel really is uncomfortable then-then I accept your invitation.'
'Well, as long as that's settled I shall leave you. I have work to do in my office.'
She watched him go, conscious of new emotions as her eyes followed the lithe swinging gait then moved to the broad shoulders, proudly squared below that arrogant head. What was the matter with her? Never before had she felt like this about a man. No, not even Lee at their most intimate. Could Paul Tremayne be right when he declared the relationship on her side was that of father and daughter? She frowned and pushed such thoughts from her mind for she felt they were almost unhealthy.
She stood a long while, with darkness spreading gently over the orchards and the silent bushveld beyond. The moon rose from behind a long line of kopjes, resplendently argent in a sky of lilac which was rapidly changing to deep purple as the transient twilight faded altogether and the hush of night was broken only by the distant throb, throb of a drumbeat. This was Africa, primitive and beautiful, and she felt she had left the civilised world behind forever. Peace enfolded her as she stood there and it was of Paul Tremayne she was thinking when it should have been Lee… Lee who was married…. He had probably waited a long while, just to see if she would write to him, promising to come out here and marry him. So lonely and sad he must have been, and disillusioned, taking it for granted that her love had not proved strong after all.
These thoughts had already occupied her mind earlier in the day but now, in this primordial atmosphere of darkness and peace, it was Paul who occupied her whole mind and she was powerless to dismiss his face from her mental vision. There was something so vital about him, so magnetic and irresistible….
That was a strange word to use, she thought with a sudden frown. What was there to resist, anyway? He was a near stranger, an African citrus grower who had offered her hospitality, and that was all.
She turned at last, yet paused to take a final look at the scene which was now more plainly visible in the light of a full moon, an enormous moon, it seemed to Loretta, and she supposed it took on these proportions owing to the crystal clarity of the air. The kopjes seemed eerie, the veld unending, the line of trees along the dry riverbed like sentinels standing in sinuous formation. Yes, all was primitive, and a little frightening. For the whole aspect spelled loneliness, isolation from all that was civilised and tangible. She moved towards the lighted window through which was the sitting-room, moved slowly and reluctantly, for it was pleasant in the solitude even though it was awe-inspiring as well.
Dinner was served at eight o'clock and she wondered if Olga would be here but to her relief she was not. Still, she did feel she would have been more comfortable if someone else had been coming. All so illogical because, on the other hand, she knew a thrill of expectation at the idea of dining alone with the man whose personality had made so deep an impression on her senses.
He was immaculate in a suit of white linen and a frilled evening shirt of pale lilac. His hair shone with cleanness and from his body came the heady smell of after-shave mingling with that of newly-laundered linen. Loretta was in a long dress of apricot cotton trimmed at neck and hem with lace in a deeper shade. Her waist was adorned with a belt studded with sequins, a contrasting belt of soft black velvet. Her hair had been brushed till it shone; her eyes were bright and smiling, her lips softly parted to show even white teeth. She knew she was looking good but she seemed to be waiting breathlessly for Paul to tell her so-and the next moment she was angrily telling herself that she did not give a damn whether he admired the picture she made or not.
'You look charming,' was his comment at length and her soft blush brought a swift smile to his lips. Pompous creature! Aware of what he was doing to her like this! Why couldn't she be cool and off-hand, poised as Olga had been, keeping all emotion imprisoned beneath the veneer of cold indifference?
'Thank you,' she returned demurely.
'Shall we have a drink first?' With the flick of a hand he indicated a chair and she sat down in it while he walked silently to the drinks table and picked up a bottle. 'Same as last night?' he said and she nodded at once.
'A dry martini, please.'
He brought it to her, standing for a space staring down into her lovely face. The moment was fraught with tension as if an electric current was shooting back and forth across the room. Her hand trembled as she took the glass from him and she saw that firm mouth lift at one corner in that particular way he had, which to Loretta denoted sardonic amusement, and she almost asked him what it was all about. But of course she refrained, remembering she was his guest and, therefore, it was incumbent on her to remain polite no matter how much his varying moods and mannerisms aroused her anger.
'What goes on in that beautiful head of yours?' he asked after sitting down opposite to her and relaxing his long body against the cushions. 'Some women are transparent while others remain mysterious to the end.'
'You've had a lot of experience with women-?' She stopped, appalled at the question she had never meant to utter. 'I'm sorry,' she began, when he interrupted her with a swift and imperious flick of the hand.
'No need to apologise; it was an obvious question to follow what I had said.'
'Nevertheless, I ought not to have asked it.' Loretta picked up her glass from the small antique table at her elbow and took it to her lips. She was embarrassed and knew he was enjoying her embarrassment.
'Yes,' he admitted, 'I've had my share of experience.'
She managed to lift her eyes and meet his half-amused gaze. 'And now? Are you thinking of settling down?'
A very strange pause followed before he said, 'I guess it's time I found myself a wife. A man reaches the stage where he would like to see his children around him.' He was watching her intently, his tawny eyes still flecked with humour.
'Is that the only reason-what I mean is, surely the wife is more important than the children?' What kind of a conversation was this? Loretta asked herself. It was becoming more intimate with every moment that passed.
'Depends on whether or not one marries for love,' was Paul's unexpected answer.
'You'd not marry without love, would you?'
'I might have done-' He stopped with an abruptness that made her start, and she saw that all humour had left his face.
'What do you mean?' The question was automatic-a follow on to what he had said, as it had been before.
'I've been thinking for some time that I would like to become a father.' Quiet the tone and Loretta felt sure he was in reality talking to himself and not to her. 'An estate like this ought to have an heir.'
'We were talking about love-' Again she pulled herself up, and this time he did not smile at her embarrassment.
'Ah, yes, love.' A cynical note had now entered his voice. 'Have you ever been in love, Loretta?'
Loretta…. So naturally it had come out, and she liked the way he said it, in that finely-modulated tone of his.
'You know I have been in love.'
'With Lee?' He shook his head. 'That was not real love, as I've already implied. Surely there have been others since then?'
She shook her head, saw the sceptical light in his eyes and her own eyes sparkled militantly. 'Although you might not believe me-there haven't been others since then!'
'Not the flimsiest of affairs?'
'If by that you mean a light flirtation-well, I am not interested in that kind of an affair.'
To her vexation she had provided him again with something to laugh at and this time his humour was audible as he threw back his head and laughter escaped him.
'What rot! Everyone these days is interested in light flirtations.'
'Everyone?' with a lift of her brows which might have been a reflection of his own haughty gesture at times.
'Well, anyone with your kind of attraction.'
'You deliberately try to embarrass me,' she complained and took up her glass again.
'Are you trying to convince me that flattery embarrasses you?' he inquired sceptically.
'I see no reason why I should try to convince you of anything,' she retorted, almost incensed now by his attitude. 'After all, we're strangers, aren't we?'
To this he shook his head and reminded her that they'd known one another for three whole days. She had to laugh and saw his eyes widen and take on an inscrutable expression.
'Three days is nothing.' She spoke for the sake of it, in order to break the silence which followed her laughter.
'A great deal can happen in three days,' he murmured almost to himself, the inscrutability of his expression reflected in his voice.
She felt tense all at once, as if she were on the verge of a profoundly important discovery. She was vitally conscious of a physical awareness of him, of a draw which was almost indomitable; she seemed to be fighting against something which she knew would overwhelm her in the end. She heard herself saying briefly, 'Such as?' and wondered if she were deliberately tempting him.
'There is such a thing as love at first sight.'
She stared, not having expected anything like that. What did he mean? 'I had the impression that you were cynical about love.'
He made no comment on this and in fact deliberately changed the subject, asking if she had any plans for her holiday here.
She shook her head. 'There isn't much to do, is there?'
'You want activity?' he asked with a curious inflection and again she shook her head.
'I shall be quite happy taking walks and relaxing in the garden.'
'Both of which can cause you fatigue at this time of the year, especially when you're not used to the heat.'
'I shall be very careful.'
'You'll need to be.' He glanced at his watch and frowned. 'What's the matter with Ngugi? He's late with the dinner.' But the houseboy appeared at that very moment, a big, brawny man with a perfect physique and the kind of face one would like to paint if only one had the ability.
He smiled, then said with a hint of apology, 'Some small thing go wrong, Mr. Paul, but dinner is ready to be served now.' He withdrew without having to explain what it was that had delayed the meal.
Paul rose after draining his glass and Loretta followed suit. He stood close-far too close, she thought, unnecessarily close, and looked down into her face for a long moment in silence. Embarrassed, she averted her head; it was brought up again with a firm hand beneath her chin and instead of resenting the action, which was imperious to say the least, she merely stared up into those tawny eyes and wondered what strange thoughts caused them to glitter like this. Passion…. She thrust away the idea but it persisted. She was alone in this house with Paul, but for the servants he had earlier mentioned and which, he had intimated, would give her protection. She continued to stare… and knew he intended to kiss her. With a swift movement she was free but only for a short moment. He took her by the wrist and brought her to him; she tried to struggle and then gave up, imprisoned as she was in what seemed like hawsers of steel. His body, too, was hard against her own soft and slender frame. She quivered but could not move as he ran his hand smoothly down her spine.
'I'm going to kiss you,' he began and before she could utter the indignant 'No!' which came instantly to her lips her mouth was claimed and crushed in a masterful and possessive way that left her panting for breath. She tried to speak, to voice a protest, but she had first to gulp in air and when she paused he took her lips again, took them in a sensuous kiss that seemed to last for an eternity and to which she was in the end compelled to respond. He had made her, forced her to his will… and she had enjoyed every moment of it!
A sort of horror followed seconds of self-recrimination as she again tried to pull away from those imprisoning arms. To have responded! To have parted her lips and allowed his probing tongue to enter…. His mouth was now finding other delightful places as, with the expertise of the lover to whom nothing is new, he caressed with his lips the hollow in her throat where the pulse beat wildly and visibly, out of control, as was the throbbing beat of her heart. His hands were not idle; they slid down her spine but at her renewed struggles and little cry of protest they stopped and instead of roving as she knew was his intention, she felt them pressed to her waist, almost encircling it. The sensation was glorious… a mingling of helplessness and excitement, for he had her totally in his power. She had never known that to be totally in a man's power could be so exhilarating, so hedonistic, stirring emotions that could only be described as sensual-primitively sensual for she wanted more… much more.
He held her from him at last, his eyes filled with mocking amusement. 'So this is the girl who has just said she isn't interested in flirtations.'
Shocked into reality by his words, she backed away, shame colouring her cheeks. Tremblingly she brushed a hand through her hair and to her dismay she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. 'You were a cad to do that!' she flared, taking refuge in anger. 'It was no way to treat a guest in your house!'
Laughter lit the tawny eyes and curved the fine lines of his mouth. 'Calm yourself, little one,' he advised. 'We're about to go in to dinner and servants have a way of interpreting the kind of look you have on your face at present.'
'Stop laughing at me!' Loretta actually stamped her foot. 'It isn't in the least funny!'
He came to her, because she was crying, and because she looked so distraught-afflicted, almost. Gently he took hold of her hand and drew her close. His lips took hers, gently this time, their touch a mere caress designed to soothe.
Bewilderedly she stared up at him through eyes misted by tears, and she shook her head from side to side as she said, in a choked little voice, 'I don't understand you, Mr.…' It sounded ridiculous to call him Mr. Tremayne after what had happened.
He thought so too because he said, his cool moist lips against her cheek, 'Paul. It's a short name so it shouldn't be difficult.'
'Paul….' She spoke the name as if compelled to do so by the expression in his eyes. 'I don't understand you,' she quavered, feeling exceedingly foolish as the repetition left her lips.
'Perhaps, my child, I do not understand myself,' was his cryptic rejoinder as, bringing out a handkerchief, he gently dabbed the tears from her eyes.
