Dark Moonless Night Page 13

  ‘But, Gareth—’

  ‘Well, what would you suggest?’ he demanded, irritation marring his lean good looks. ‘That we share the back? Do you think that would be a good idea? Because I don’t!’

  Caroline bent her head. ‘All right.’

  ‘Right.’

  He strode back to the car and scuffling her feet, Caroline followed him.

  In spite of her sense of guilt at being given the most comfortable position, Caroline found her eyes drooping almost as soon as her head touched the seat, and she knew nothing more until the shrill squawking of the parakeets which nested in the ravine awakened her to awareness of her surroundings.

  Blinking, she raised her wrist to eye level and tried to read the hands of her watch. Amazingly it was after three o’clock and the blazing heat of the day was beginning to yield. She struggled up into a sitting position and then stopped short. Gareth was still sleeping, his long length stretched across the two front seats and out of the car door. He lay on his back, his arms resting just behind his head, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist to reveal the dark tan of his chest and stomach.

  Caroline looked down on him, her lips parting tenderly. He looked so much younger in sleep, and there was something slightly covetous about just looking at him without his being aware of it. She had an overwhelming desire to touch him, to lie with him and bring him awake to awareness of her.

  Stretching her arm down over the back of the front seat, she slid her fingers under the thin material of his shirt, seeking the warm curve of his shoulder. His skin was smooth, the muscles firm even relaxed like this, and an aching longing for him swept over her so that when he opened his eyes she did not immediately withdraw her hand.

  But Gareth was instantly alert to the situation, and he jack-knifed into a sitting position so that she was forced to draw back. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he snapped savagely, destroying her mood in seconds.

  She stared at him helplessly, hot and embarrassed, and then, needing to get away from his anger, she thrust open the car door and scrambled out. She ran across the clearing to the rocky edge, breathing quickly and jerkily, scarcely able to understand the flooding sweetness of desire which would not be denied. She had never felt this way before, never really comprehended the idea of actually wanting a man. But suddenly everything was plain to her and she ached with a satisfaction denied.

  She glanced back at the station wagon. Gareth was still inside. She saw the flare of his lighter as he lit a cigar. Was that all it meant to him? A source of annoyance? An irritation that she should dare to touch him without invitation?

  And what could she do? There was so little time. One thing was certain, if she went back to England now she could never marry Jeremy Brent. Never at any time had she felt this way about him.

  She looked up. The waters of the falls were very inviting to her overheated body. Perhaps it was possible to bathe in the falls. Not at the base where the water swirled so dangerously, but higher up where ledges provided resting places.

  Without really stopping to think what she was about to do, she unfastened the belt of her jeans and stepped out of them, tugging her sweater over her head. Then she paddled down the steps to where the first ledge jutted into the cascade. This close a delicious shower of water sprayed her arms and legs and its coolness was very welcoming.

  Grasping a handful of the ferny undergrowth which grew close to the outer rocks, she pulled herself on to the lowest ledge and shivered ecstatically as the foamy cascade soaked her through in seconds. In her over-emotional, over-excited state its coldness was doubly chilling, and she waited only a moment before attempting to reach the next ledge up. Perhaps she could climb to the top of the falls this way.

  But she had scarcely begun to attempt the second ledge when she heard Gareth’s furious voice behind her, yelling: ‘For God’s sake, Caroline, come back! You’ll break your neck if you slip off there!’

  Caroline glanced round. Gareth was standing on the rocks where she had abandoned her jeans and sweater, staring up at her frustratedly. A quiver of fear of what he might do to her if she did not obey him rippled through her, but she refused to be treated like a child.

  ‘I’m all right, Gareth,’ she called back, shivering in spite of herself. ‘Go—go and smoke your cigar! I’ll come back when I’m ready!’

  ‘You’ll come back now!’ he shouted commandingly. ‘At once!’

  ‘And if I don’t?’ She looked round defiantly.

  Gareth hesitated only a moment longer and then he unfastened his belt and thrust off his trousers. Underneath, he was wearing navy shorts, and she realised with a sense of dismay that he could come after her if he wanted to. And that apparently was what he intended.

  Panic made her careless. Her fingers fumbled hopelessly for a handhold on the ledge above, but it was useless. The stones were smooth and the speed of the water swept away every attempt she made. He was on the ledge below her now, and she looked down into his determined face apprehensively.

  ‘All right, all right!’ she cried. ‘I’ll come back. Just get out of my way.’

  Gareth stepped obediently aside and she turned and lowered herself inelegantly over the ledge. But her fingers were wet and the hold she had on the ferns gave way and she screamed as she was swept down by the water.

  Then strong hands caught her, preventing her from being dashed down on to the rocks below, and she clung to Gareth weakly, her heart pounding like a drum.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry—I’m sorry,’ she whispered, tears mingling with the water on her cheeks. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  Gareth said nothing, he merely grasped a firm hold on the rocky ledge and stepped across, hauling her with him. Then he released her and she sank into a trembling little heap at his feet, aware of exactly what he had saved her from.

  Gareth stood, legs astride, regarding her grimly, and Caroline looked up at him tremulously. ‘I—I’ve said I’m sorry,’ she breathed. ‘What more can I say?’

  Gareth shook his head angrily. ‘Don’t say anything.’

  ‘But I must.’ She stifled a little sob, sniffing plaintively. ‘Don’t be angry with me, Gareth—please!’

  Gareth looked down at his shorts clinging wetly to his body. ‘I think we’d better go back,’ he stated coldly.

  Caroline caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Am I such a nuisance, Gareth?’ she appealed, stretching out a hand and stroking her fingers down the wet hairs of his leg.

  Gareth’s eyes darkened and he would have moved abruptly away, but she wrapped her arms possessively round one of his legs, imprisoning it, pressing her face against his skin.

  ‘Oh, Gareth,’ she whispered huskily, ‘don’t be so cruel.’

  Gareth bent, his intention to disentangle himself, but it didn’t work out like that. When his face was only a few inches from Caroline’s she was unable to prevent herself from touching her mouth to his. It was as though that small action was the last straw so far as Gareth was concerned, and he came down beside her, his mouth frankly sensuous, reaching for her with disturbing determination.

  He bore her back against the rocky ledge, the weight of his body on hers destroying coherent thought. He cupped her face in his hands, parting her lips with his and seeking the sweetness within. ‘Dear God,’ he muttered, against her mouth. ‘I want you, Caroline.’

  Caroline’s bare arms curved round his neck, her back arched as he pressed closer, and a low moaning sigh escaped her lips as he lowered his head to find the hollow between her breasts.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he groaned, pressing kisses over her throat and ears and cheeks before returning to her mouth again. ‘You always were. But now you’re a woman—in every sense of the word.’

  Caroline’s fingers explored his scalp and the nape of his neck. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she breathed.

  ‘Have you?’ She failed to denote any mockery in his tone. ‘I’ve thought about you, too. Would you believe when I was making love to Sharon I was preten
ding it was you?’

  Caroline caught her breath. ‘Sharon? That was your wife?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Caroline moved her head helplessly. ‘But why did you marry her? Did—did you love her?’

  Gareth drew himself upward a little to look down at her. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘But—but—’ Caroline sought for words. ‘It—it was so soon—’

  ‘After us, you mean?’ Gareth’s lips twisted. ‘Yes, well, that’s easily explained if you consider the physical aspects of our relationship.’

  Caroline’s cheeks burned. ‘You mean—you mean—’

  His eyes had hardened. ‘I loved you, Caroline,’ he muttered grimly. ‘I wanted to marry you. I couldn’t take it when you turned me down.’

  ‘Oh, Gareth!’ Caroline felt sick. ‘Was—was that why your marriage failed?’

  He shrugged. ‘You might say that. After the—er—image of you faded, my ardour soon cooled. I couldn’t blame her when she sought excitement elsewhere.’

  ‘And—’ She had to ask the question. ‘And—Sandra?’

  His face softened. ‘Sandra’s altogether different.’

  Caroline felt the first twinges of anxiety. ‘Did you—that is—did your wife suspect that there was—something between you?’

  Gareth’s eyes darkened again. ‘What are you implying?’

  Caroline wet suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I—I only wondered whether—whether—’ She could not go on.

  Gareth looked positively furious. ‘You wondered whether it was my behaviour—or should I say misbehaviour with Sandra that broke up my marriage, is that it?’ He sneered. ‘Well, no. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I divorced my wife, not the other way round.’

  Caroline’s lids hid her eyes. What was happening between them? she asked herself despairingly. She had thought when he kissed her just now that everything was going to be all right—but it wasn’t. How could they lie here in each other’s arms saying such terrible things to one another? What had gone wrong?

  Looking up at him again, she exclaimed: ‘Gareth, don’t let’s hurt one another any more!’

  Gareth traced the line of her neck and shoulder with his finger, sliding the strap of her bikini aside to bend his head and caress the soft smooth flesh with his lips. ‘I don’t think I could hurt you, Caroline,’ he spoke indistinctly. ‘You’re far too aware of your own potential to allow that to happen. But I do want to love you—’

  Caroline was no longer yielding. His words had not reassured her at all. In fact she was almost convinced he had every intention of making love to her with or without her consent. What did he think she was? Did he imagine that because she was now a woman she was therefore an emancipated member of the permissive society, allowing any man these kind of intimacies?

  She shifted uneasily, her flesh cooling rapidly. What was it he had said? What were the exact words he had used? That he had loved her. That was it. The past tense of the verb to love, not the present as she had foolishly imagined. So why was he doing this? What warped objective had he in mind?

  ‘Gareth!’ She tried to push him away. ‘Let me go!’

  Gareth raised his head, a frown drawing his dark brows together. ‘Oh, no, Caroline,’ he muttered thickly, ‘not this time. You won’t make a fool of me again!’

  Caroline gasped, ‘Gareth, you don’t understand—’

  ‘I understand very well. I understand that you’re a woman now, a woman of experience, a woman free and easy with her favours. And by God, I deserve those favours more than any other man!’

  His determination frightened her. For the first time in her life she found herself in a situation she could not control. Her frustrated struggling only seemed to incite him further, and his mouth burned against her chilled body. But desperation found its own weapons and if she could not escape from him by physical means then only words were left to her.

  ‘It seems that living in a uncivilised society for so long has robbed you of your sense of decency—your self-respect!’ she gulped between choking breaths. ‘What do you think Sandra will think about such primitive behaviour?’

  There was a moment when she thought she had failed, when Gareth continued to kiss her with those long, soul-destroying kisses which even she was not wholly able to resist. But then, as though the mention of Sandra’s name in this context drove a wedge between them, he thrust her roughly away from him, lying on his back with an arm across his eyes.

  ‘So you’re going to tell Sandra, is that it?’ he muttered coldly.

  Caroline scrambled to her feet, snatching up her jeans and sweater. So long as he was lying there with his eyes closed she could put some distance between them. She didn’t answer his question. She stumbled inelegantly up the stone steps and ran like a wild thing for the comparative safety of the station wagon.

  She was dressed and sitting shakily in her seat when he eventually came over the rise, walking with indolent grace towards the car. Even after everything that had happened between them, even knowing the despicable way he regarded her, he still had the power to send the blood coursing more swiftly through her veins and it was terribly difficult not to try once more to appeal to him. Oh, why couldn’t he see that she was no wanton, no participant in the sophisticated game of love? She simply loved him, and because of this her response to him was sometimes wild and abandoned.

  Gareth didn’t say a word. He climbed negligently into the seat beside her and reached for a cigar. Then, when it was lit he started the station wagon’s engine and swung it in a semi-circle to make the return journey to the top of the ravine. It was a somewhat hair-raising trip, even more hair-raising than the journey down had been, but Caroline had to sit in silence, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat, praying that if she had to die Gareth would somehow learn the truth about her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE following morning there was a visitor to the bungalow. It was Helen Barclay, and she arrived when there was no one but Caroline around.

  ‘That’s all right, my dear,’ she exclaimed, when Caroline hastened to explain that Charles had taken the children to see the mine and that Elizabeth was not up yet. ‘It’s you I came to see.’

  ‘Me?’ Caroline was ungrammatical. Then she smiled. ‘Why? Was there some specific reason?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes.’ Helen indicated Caroline’s wrist. ‘That bite you had—why didn’t you tell me about it straight away?’

  ‘Oh, Helen!’ Caroline sighed. ‘That was ages ago now. Besides, I was too ashamed. I should have had more sense than to touch the animal.’ She frowned. ‘Anyway, how do you come to know about it?’

  ‘I’m afraid the grapevine to the Mission works rather more slowly than elsewhere. In fact, I learned about it three days ago—from Gareth, but I’ve been so busy since then this is the first opportunity I’ve had to come and apologise.’

  At the mention of Gareth’s name, Caroline felt herself stiffening, but she managed to say: ‘Apologise? There’s no need for that.’

  ‘But there is. Gareth’s right. I do encourage those beasts, but they always look so thin and starved—I feel sorry for them.’

  ‘Really, Helen, I don’t blame you—’

  ‘No. But Gareth does.’

  Caroline twisted her hands together. ‘I’m sure you’re mistaken.’

  ‘And is it all right now? You’re looking very pale, Caroline. I don’t think this climate agrees with you.’

  Caroline made a deprecating gesture. ‘I’m fine. I—I suppose I shouldn’t have been without—without Gareth’s help—but—’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Helen looked surprised. Then: ‘Did you have some—trouble with your arm?’

  Caroline flushed. ‘I thought Gareth told you.’

  ‘Does it involve him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then he wouldn’t,’ said Helen resignedly. ‘But what happened?’

  Caroline shook her head. ‘Oh, well,’ she murmured, reluctan
tly, ‘there was some swelling. It was obviously infected, and as Doctor Macdonald was away, Gareth lanced it himself.’

  ‘I see,’ Helen nodded. ‘It’s just as well you told him about it. He has some small knowledge of such things. He was once bitten by a snake and sucked the poison out himself.’

  Caroline was horrified. ‘How dreadful!’ she breathed, realising with an inward feeling of despair that many such accidents could happen to him out here and she would never know anything about them. He could die—and she would only hear about it indirectly.

  She turned away so that Helen should not see the agony in her eyes. ‘Er—you’ll have some coffee, won’t you, Helen?’

  ‘That would be nice.’ Helen subsided on to a low chair. ‘I told Laurie not to expect me back much before lunch.’

  Caroline nodded. ‘I’ll just tell Thomas.’

  But outside in the hall she pressed her burning forehead against the cool plaster of the wall. She felt sick and ill, she had felt this way since her return from Nyshasa yesterday, and the last thing she had expected this morning was to have to entertain a visitor.

  When she returned to the living-room she had herself in control again, smiling as Helen admired the orange shift she was wearing.

  ‘You can wear such vivid colours, Caroline,’ she exclaimed. ‘Me, I never did look good in bright things. Tell me, have you been getting out and about while you’ve been here?’

  Caroline dug her nails into the soft upholstery of the couch. ‘Yes,’ she answered steadily, ‘we’ve been to lots of places. Er—Charles and Elizabeth took the children to the Kywari game reserve yesterday.’

  ‘And didn’t you go?’

  ‘No. I—er—I was rather tired. I didn’t feel like the journey.’

  ‘So you had a day on your own.’

  ‘No. No, actually, I didn’t do that either.’ Caroline looked up in relief as Thomas brought in the tray. ‘Put it here, please,’ she indicated the low table in front of Her. ‘Thank you.’

  For a few minutes she busied herself with the coffee, asking Helen whether she wanted sugar, hoping that the older woman would start some new topic of conversation, but when she was comfortably settled with her coffee and a biscuit, Helen said: