Moonflower Page 13

  We would of course provide funding for the project and offer our advice and expertise, but we have every confidence that Sophie has the intelligence, training and passion to make such a project a success.

  As the owner of Labour’s End and Sophie’s employer, we felt it best to run this by you first. Should you decide to make use of this opportunity, I would leave it up to you to inform Sophie of our proposal…

  The proposal had definitely thrown a complication into his plans for Sophie. He had been thinking about it for a while but, after this morning’s dangerous incident, his mind was set on convincing Sophie to return with him to London. He could arrange for her to be appointed to a conservation project in the UK where the bigger animals she encountered would be in a far more controlled environment. If he couldn’t use his money and influence for his own ends every now and then, what use were they to him?

  Now this, damn it!

  If he was a less scrupulous man, he would not mention the e-mail and, by the time Dr Duval contacted either of them again, he’d have a project for her in the UK and her decision to return with him. He could, of course, come up with a reason why they couldn’t use his farm for the research, but Sophie would not be so easily fooled.

  Reuben just wasn’t a dishonest person, and he certainly could not have looked Sophie in the eye and lied to her.

  ‘I need to run something by you,’ he told her.

  Sophie lazily moved her head against the back of the seat to look up at him. She frowned at the seriousness of his tone. ‘Okay.’

  Reuben took the e-mail print out from his pocket and handed it to her.

  He watched her face change as she read it: curiosity, then a smile, and eventually the sparkle of absolute joy in her eyes. Then a sudden frown.

  ‘Have you agreed yet, Reuben?’ she asked cautiously, and for a moment he hoped.

  ‘Would you be interested?’

  ‘Interested?’ She flapped the page in the air. ‘This is like… This is a dream come true. Of course I’d be interested. And ecstatic. And… And just over the moon. This is the sort of thing some conservationists wait for all their lives and never get. It fills me with curiosity and interest and I can’t even think what it would do for my career.’

  In her excitement, she’d come to sit at his feet, her hand on his knee, the page lying in her lap, looking up at him with eyes filled with the possibility of a lifetime of adventure.

  Her joy squeezed Reuben’s heart unmercifully. ‘You’d be tied to the farm for four years, Sophie.’

  Her expression clouded. ‘Would that be a problem for you?’

  Reuben took a deep breath and shrugged. ‘I’m okay with it if you are.’

  Sophie suddenly stood up and moved away from him, hurt plain on her face. ‘If you don’t want me on your farm for four years then I’ll finish my present contract and leave.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that four years is a long time for a person of your age to commit to.’

  Sophie’s chin tilted towards the canopy of stars above her head. ‘I’ve always known my own mind, Reuben. And I’m exactly where I want to be.’

  ‘Very well,’ Reuben said against the tightness in his throat. ‘I’ll let Dr Duval know in the morning and we can begin to talk through the details of the project.’

  ‘I appreciate the opportunity,’ Sophie said stiffly. She turned her back and began to climb down the stairs from the patio.

  Reuben watched her go and said nothing, because the wrenching feeling in his gut told him that he’d just watched her take the first steps out of his life.

  Sophie didn’t think she could eat supper just yet, after her conversation with Reuben, so in the kitchen she loaded up a basket of bread, cheese, stew and preserves and strode off to visit Mr Solomon. She had discovered that he lived in a small white cottage surrounded by yellow clivias and a carpet of purple plectranthus in a copse of hard pear trees. Sophie was a little worried; she hadn’t seen him for almost a week now.

  And she needed to clear her head. She was still deeply hurt by the conversation she’d had with Reuben about the research proposal for the farm.

  Instead of being happy for her, his first concern had been about the amount of time she’d spend on the farm. Did the thought of having her here for the next four years fill him with misgivings? Did he feel tied down by the arrangement? Maybe he wanted to be free to bring other women to Labour’s End. If he found someone more suited to his jet-setting lifestyle and wanted to marry her, he would not be able to visit the farm with his new wife so long as Sophie was rattling around the place. The thought was like a spear tip through her heart.

  ‘Mr Solomon!’ Sophie called, knocking loudly at the old oak door to the cottage.

  ‘Who is it?’ came a voice filled with suspicion. The enquiry was followed by a fit of coughing.

  ‘It’s Sophie, Mr Solomon. From the garden. You always give me—’

  The door flew open. ‘I know who you are, girl,’ he said irritably. ‘What are you doing here?’ He had a heavy blanket drawn around his stooped shoulders.

  ‘Come to see if you’re okay, and by the looks of things, you’re not.’

  Sophie stepped inside and found the kitchen just off to her left. Apart from fridge, stove and microwave, the room looked as if it hadn’t changed in two hundred years. It was neat as a new pin.

  She went to the scrubbed wooden table and began to unpack the food.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Mr Solomon asked, but there was more curiosity than irritation in his voice.

  ‘I’ve got supper for you. Come and sit down.’

  To Sophie’s surprise he did as she asked while she warmed the stew.

  She talked to Mr Solomon about his flowers as they ate, then she made him a toddy, filled a hot water bottle and settled him in a wingback chair in front of the television. She kissed the top of his head, said goodnight and turned to leave.

  But the old man stopped her with a gnarled hand. ‘You remember what’s worth fighting for. You remember that,’ he told her, shaking her arm.

  ‘What’s worth fighting for, Mr Solomon?’ Sophie asked, a little taken aback by the vehemence in his voice.

  ‘You’ll know. In here,’ he pointed to his stomach. ‘You trust that feeling. You hear? You trust that. Some people think too much. Much too much thinking going on.’ He jabbed a finger at his head. ‘That’s doubts. You go by what you feel here.’ He patted his chest. ‘Even if it seems crazy, that’s what’s worth fighting for.’

  Sophie did not see Reuben the next day, but he came to her that night.

  He’d arrived at her door; his expression confused, a little desperate, and she wondered if he’d wanted to stay away but had found he simply could not.

  ‘Reuben,’ she began, but he’d shaken his head and silenced her with a kiss.

  She tasted brandy on his tongue and, although not possible, the kiss left her feeling as if she too were intoxicated.

  He took his clothes off, then hers, in silence, and held the length of her nakedness tightly against him.

  He carried her to the bed, and would not let her go. Kissing her mouth, her face, her neck, his body pressing into her centre until she slipped her hips beneath his and with his tongue still swirling in her mouth, took him deep inside her.

  ‘Ah, Sophie!’ he eventually cried out with release, and she was unable to think as she rode the steep, dizzying wave of her own climax; her mind empty of all thoughts, all doubts.

  Until she lay with her head on his shoulder, his arms circling her possessively, and listened to his rhythmic breathing as he slept. It was then she wondered about the passion and was it sadness she’d heard in his voice? Had he come here tonight to make love to her for the last time?

  Sophie without Reuben. It had become a strange and startling idea. On this farm at the tip of Africa, the clamorous streets of London, the city’s high-rises and boardrooms had seemed far enough away to pose no real threat to her joyf
ul existence.

  But Reuben was due to leave for England in two weeks. Had he begun to tear himself away from her? Would he leave and never return? The thought made her want to curl into a ball and wrap her arms around her body that ached so terribly at the thought of separation. Four years of losing herself in her work stretched ahead of her, but always waiting for him to return, for the sound of his voice in the passage outside her office and the call that would summon her to the main house, the first sight of him as she mounted the verandah steps.

  Sophie could not stand the aching it caused in her. So she reached for him in the middle of the night, her hands and lips caressing him into wakefulness. And it was perhaps the reason he responded with a passion full of bittersweet intensity.

  Chapter Twelve

  Reuben’s parents arrived the following Tuesday.

  Sophie had been sure they’d be fabulous people, judging from the sons they’d produced. Two such dynamic men had to have accomplished parents. But what would they think of Sophie?

  Would Reuben try to keep their personal relationship a secret? What a horrible humiliation to have to soldier through. And if Reuben was open about their affair—would they be disappointed, or alarmed, to discover that their celebrity tycoon son, who had worked so hard to get where he was, had fallen for an ordinary girl who was most at home stomping through the African bush?

  Reuben himself, Sophie knew, was doing his best to extricate himself from the relationship, and failing. Sometimes the tension between them seemed almost too much to bear. They hardly spoke to each other now. The lion’s share of interaction between them was confined to hours of frenzied lovemaking in the cottage at night. A break from reality, a darkened bubble of jagged breath, hoarse cries, trembling hands and straining limbs.

  But he had not come to her last night, and she could not stand to be away from him. The emptiness of the bed next to her threatened to swallow her up, and her skin felt impossibly hot against the sheet. The huge white moonflowers Mr Solomon had placed in her room the day before filled her nostrils with their exotic sweetness, their fragrance seeming to curl around her limbs.

  Her head swam with images of Reuben; his beautiful face twisted with pleasure as she mounted him. Strong hands on her hips, commanding the plunging rhythm of deep penetration and slick withdrawal. How could she accept that she may never feel these things again?

  She was suddenly sure he would not come to her while his parents were in the house. And he was due to return with them to the UK in a week’s time. Did that mean that last night was the last time they’d ever make love? Why hadn’t she thought of that? She had simply lost herself in him as she always did, but if it had been the last time she’d ever feel him against her skin, wake in the night covered in the scent of him...

  Her mind became fevered at the thought. She had to find him. She needed to know if she would never touch him again.

  She flung out her arm to toss the sheet aside, pulled on her clothes and rushed from the cottage. Her heart hammered and her face burned and, when the house came into sight, she began to run. She took the verandah steps two at a time, raced across the tiles and fumbled with the key before she got his door open.

  A three-quarter moon showed Reuben asleep on his back, the sheet to his waist, an arm flung across his bare chest.

  Sophie climbed onto the bed beside him and shook his powerful shoulders. ‘Why didn’t you come to me tonight? Why?’ Her voice was filled with longing, desire, anger.

  His eyes flew open.

  ‘Did you not want this, Reuben?’ Her hand slipped beneath the sheet, her palm gliding over the line of soft belly hair that erupted in curls at its base. He grew in her hand as she caressed him.

  Reuben sat up, looking furious with her, and Sophie felt suddenly frightened that she’d made a terrible fool of herself. She withdrew her hand, made to scramble from the bed, but his cry of ‘No!’ stopped her.

  ‘Take off your clothes,’ he ordered.

  Kneeling on the bed beside him, her fingers trembled as she undid the buttons of her shirt. One at time, slowly, moving the fabric aside and letting it slide from her shoulders, down her back. He moved a curtain of copper hair aside, his eyes feasting on her aching breasts, but he did not touch her.

  Sophie wanted to cry then, perhaps with the sheer force of her love for him, or desire—hot and hard tonight—coursing through her. Her heart still pounded, her body flowing with adrenaline. She trembled, catching the flesh of her bottom lip between her teeth and biting down as hard as she could.

  Reuben’s tilted her face upward so she was forced to look at him. He was frowning, eyes travelling over her face, stopping at her mouth. His thumb rubbed across her lip, freeing it from the ache of her teeth.

  ‘I am lost with you, Sophie. Take off your clothes,’ he repeated.

  Sophie wanted to ask him what he meant. She wanted to fling herself at him, biting and scratching. Cradle his face in gentle hands and kiss him with all the tenderness she had ever felt in her life.

  She rose on her knees, and, balancing on knuckles, stretched one long leg backward off the bed, then the other. Standing, she unbuttoned the denim shorts and folded back each side. She wore no knickers. Slowly, she eased the fabric over her hips, one hand slipping downward to caress herself.

  Briefly, her eyes met Reuben’s as he watched her, mesmerised. Sophie closed her eyes, tilted her head back and continued to pleasure herself until her breath came in gasps that were short and sharp, and Reuben leapt forward with a strangled cry and drew her down to the bed.

  Breathing hard, he entered her almost immediately, his teeth nipping her neck, his hand squeezing her breast, and Sophie thought she smelled the moonflowers again. Her head swam with their sweet exotic scent, the room blurred with moonlight as she floated and seemed to twist, plummet and swirl in the air with only Reuben to keep her from flying off forever.

  He stroked her face as she lay in his arms. He kissed her cheeks and murmured in her ear. ‘You are the wildest of creatures, Sophie.’ Kissed the smoothness of her chin, his lips tracing the gentle sweep of her jaw. ‘You come to me in the moonlight. In fragrance and shadows.’ He buried his face in her hair and was still. Sophie thought she heard him murmur against her hair, ‘I am powerless with you. You cannot be caught. Never tamed,’ but she could not be sure.

  Sophie stayed away from the house when his parents were due to arrive. Reuben had asked Beauty to let him know when she returned from the bush. Why hadn’t she made the effort to be here when his parents arrived? And why should he care?

  He really didn’t know how much more of this he could stand. He knew the situation was taking its toll on Sophie, too, and it was like a stab of pain to his chest.

  He was sure she was trying to distance herself from him any way she could. So why didn’t he put her out of her misery by ending it? He didn’t have to be here. In fact, he’d spent far too much time at the farm and rumours in London were rife; his competitors making the most of his continued absence.

  Sophie had stated in no uncertain terms that she wanted the four-year research programme on the farm. She could stay, and he must return to London. It was a simple enough solution.

  His parents were due any minute now. He strode from the room, but he did not head for the verandah; he went in the direction of the garages.

  Sophie was in her office, half turned from him, her hair like a curtain of fiery sunlight around her shoulders. He stood in the shadow of the doorway, watching her fingers work as she scooped up handfuls of hair into a thick ponytail. He should have had his fill of her last night, but there seemed to be no slaking his hunger for her. Desire tightened every muscle in his body and pounded in his ears.

  And she, too, was aware of his presence in the sudden stillness of her body and the slow raising of her head. Her eyes met his and for a moment neither spoke.

  ‘I thought you’d be at the house to meet my parents.’ He was unable to take his eyes off her.

  Sophie rose f
rom her chair, but stayed behind the desk. ‘I thought you might want to do that in private.’

  ‘Yes, but then I’d planned to introduce them to the staff.’

  He watched Sophie’s gaze move to the window. She took a deep breath and looked back at him, the effort of a smile on her face. ‘Of course. You must let me know when Sipho, Isaac or I should take them for a game drive.’

  Reuben shook his head. Took a step towards her. ‘You don’t have to stay away, Sophie.’

  ‘Don’t I?’

  It was a genuine question; he saw pain in her face, not defiance, and it stabbed at his heart. But he could give her no further assurances.

  She stepped around the desk in one graceful, fluid motion, went to a shelf and lifted down a first aid kit. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting your parents along with the rest of the staff,’ Sophie said, crouching on the floor to open the kit.

  ‘And they’re looking forward to meeting you, Sophie.’

  He had said her name in a whisper and the longing in it was obvious. He knew he played with his own feelings no less than hers. Never before had he displayed such weakness and he disgusted himself.

  ‘Why is that?’ she asked, not looking up at him.

  He couldn’t stand being forced to look down, impotently, at the top of her head, her shoulders and face turned stiffly away from him. He wanted to take hold of the thick silkiness of her ponytail and turn her face up to him, lips parted, eyes languid, willing him to take her mouth.

  He scowled at her. ‘They watch a lot of wildlife shows on television, so they’ll have a few questions.’

  He thought he saw a flicker of hurt or disappointment in her eyes as she looked up at him.

  ‘I’ll gather up Sipho and Isaac and we’ll be happy to answer any of their questions.’

  Sophie had sent the rangers ahead to explain that she’d had to take a call from the farm’s vet. Which was why all the staff were already gathered by the time she was able to make her way to the house.