Moonflower Read online

  When they met in a doorway, and for the briefest of moments no one was around, he would step up to her, although there was more than enough room all around. His chest would lightly brush her breasts, his breath against her cheek, instantly setting her on fire. His hips grazed hers and she’d press forward, wanting more, her face tilting up to touch her lips to his. But then he’d be gone into the next room without looking back to where she stood, every lustful nerve in her body screaming for him.

  Sophie stepped outside to find a quiet spot. In the stillness, and with nobody to see, she could indulge the secret smile that spread across her face as she remembered the start to her day.

  She'd woken in Reuben’s bed just as the sun was rising. She had sat up to leave, knowing she’d be mortified if Sara and Rolf found out that she was spending nights in her boss’s bed. But Reuben had stirred beside her and she’d looked back at him over her shoulder, feasting her eyes on the hard muscles of his chest, the delicious arrow of hair that sped across his belly, pointing downward to an explosion of soft curls and a quite magnificent organ that seemed able to give her the sort of pleasure she’d never dreamed possible.

  Sophie had known she should leave quickly, before the household began to stir, but she'd turned and kissed the dark lashes that lay against creamy cheeks, the mouth, sensual and soft in sleep. And she’d felt him smile beneath her lips. She’d squirmed with pleasure as his hands moved suddenly beneath the sheet to cup and squeeze her buttocks.

  'Trying to sneak out before paying for your night of debauchery, Ms Kyle?' His voice was deep and husky; the way he said her name had her turning back to him, thighs loosened.

  'Only trying to preserve your reputation from ruin, Mr Manning.'

  'Ah!' Reuben said, lifting her astride him. 'So you admit you could ruin my reputation.' He cupped her breasts, stared intently at the hardening nipples, licked his lips, latched onto her.

  Sophie arched her back and moaned.

  He withdrew the warmth of his mouth from her nipple. She cupped the back of his head to urge him towards her again.

  He turned his head away. ‘Admit it.’

  Sophie couldn’t remember what she was meant to admit to.

  He shook her gently.

  'What?' she asked, her brain a fog.

  ‘Admit you could ruin me, with your full breasts that tease me, and your golden skin and copper hair.’ As he spoke, he pulled the sheet down past his hips so she could feel his arousal against the inside of her thigh.

  'Oh, Reuben,' Sophie said, raising her hips so she could feel the tip of him rub against the small pebble of arousal that stood hard and erect above her spreading moistness.

  'Concentrate, Sophie!'

  'How? When you're doing this to me.'

  ‘What, this?’ He moved his hips so he was at her opening.

  Sophie took a deep breath; taut as a bow. ‘No, this,’ she said, biting her lower lip as she plunged down onto him.

  Reuben asked no more questions.

  The smile faded from Sophie’s lips as she heard a burst of conversation from nearby. She was suddenly resentful of these visitors to Labour's End, and this was a new experience for her. She had always loved sharing her world with others. Watching silence settle over a group as they came upon animals most had only ever seen in books or on television, now in front of them, magnificent in their natural habitat.

  But Sophie knew it wasn’t the thought of sharing her world with these people that was causing these feelings of resentment and dissatisfaction. It was having to share Reuben with people who had known him for many years. Knew him far better than she’d probably ever know him. People who could draw him back into his own world, away from her and the wide open spaces of Labour’s End.

  Reuben had warned her, as she’d left his room that morning, that they would probably not be able to spend any time alone together while his friends and guests were at the farm.

  Of course, the comment had hurt her. But she could not be angry with him. He had not promised her anything more than a distraction. That was the understanding between them, and she had accepted it. In fact, she too had no desire to be part of his world; London, its traffic, press of people, and tall buildings everywhere so you forgot there was a sky and that you shared the planet with creatures far more powerful than you were.

  But she’d hoped for a bit longer with him, to explore what she’d only just found. Labour’s End had, in recent weeks, become their playground, and for the briefest time Sophie had felt utter contentment that came only from a life fulfilled at every level. She had the wildness of the African bush and its exquisite animals, an important job to do that would affect her world for generations to come, and a man who set that world on fire, who had only just begun to show her that she had places within herself she had never known existed.

  There was still so much to do, so much to explore and discover, but not with all these people around. People who spoke to Reuben about other people and things she couldn’t follow. They’d brought with them a reality and a sophistication that made Sophie’s relationship with Reuben seem like an adolescent crush. And that made her feel suddenly silly. This was Reuben’s real life. These people, the things and places they were talking about. Not the few weeks a year he’d spend on his African farm.

  Another thought struck Sophie then. One that made her sick to her stomach. Would she fall deeply in love with Reuben, only to see him go back to his reality? Would she pine for him, wait patiently for his return to Labour’s End now and then; a few snatched hours or weeks here and there as the years wore on? While she believed that what they had was too special to pass up, to Reuben it was most likely nothing more than an exotic distraction.

  Would the prospect of such a depressing future stop Sophie from going to Reuben’s bed? She thought about that. But, to her surprise, the answer was no. She knew it was already too late. She was fast falling in love with him and the thought both thrilled and terrified her. The tycoon would not alter his world for her. He’d said as much, never been anything less than brutally honest with her. He had always kept conversation between them light, or about the farm. She had no idea who his parents were, where he’d grown up, how he’d got that scar on his knee. He had been careful to keep these two parts of his life separate from each other.

  Sophie was in no doubt that whatever had awoken between them was doomed. She wanted to run then, but whether away from the farm or into Reuben’s arms, she couldn’t tell.

  'And who is this vision in khaki?'

  Sophie jumped. A man who looked vaguely familiar stood in front of her, and she’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard his approach.

  'Mark!’ Reuben was moving towards them, a warning tone in his voice, irritation all over his features.

  'Take a shower,' Reuben said as he drew level with the man. 'Preferably a cold one.'

  'Ahh,’ the man said, looking highly amused. ‘So my brother's possessive of the vision in khaki, is he?'

  The man Reuben had called Mark looked back at Sophie with piqued curiosity.

  'You're Reuben's brother?' Sophie asked, intrigued.

  'That I am. Mark Manning. Pleased to meet you.'

  'Sophie Kyle.'

  She held her hand out to him. He squeezed it. Held it a little longer than was necessary.

  Reuben hovered beside his brother, irritation turning to annoyance.

  'My brother's always been the possessive type,’ Mark said, ignoring Reuben. ‘One of those children who really looked after his things, held onto them forever. Mum went through hell trying to get him to give things up—his dummy, then a blanket. There was this musty old elephant he still had on his bed as a teenager… Simply refused to give any of it up. Come to think of it, that's how you got your first piggy bank, wasn't it? Poor Mum had to resort to bribery. But once he’d discovered money, there was no turning back.'

  Sophie grinned broadly at both men. Now she knew why Mark had seemed so familiar. It was the family resemblance.

/>   'So this is where you’ve run away to.' A woman, a head shorter than Sophie—glossy black bob, pale skin and red lips—came over to them. She was highly polished, sophisticated. Fitted in perfectly with the crowd buzzing around the entrance hall and formal lounge.

  'Clarice, this is my conservationist, Sophie Kyle. Sophie, Clarice Thornton-Powell.'

  'Hello there,' Clarice said, eyeing Sophie with some interest.

  'Hello,' Sophie said, extending her hand to the other woman.

  Clarice smiled, and, after a moment's hesitation, took Sophie's hand. 'Oh, my,' she said, as Sophie shook her hand. 'You’re a strong girl, aren't you?'

  Sophie flushed, and quickly withdrew her slightly work-worn hand with its short, sensible nails from Clarice's soft, pale fingers that ended in ten perfect red ovals.

  'I hope you enjoy your stay,' Sophie said to cover her awkwardness.

  'I'm sure I will,' she said, linking an arm through Reuben's and looking up at his face. ‘I’m sure Reuben will see to that, won’t you, darling?’

  Reuben looked down at Clarice, smiled, and something twisted unpleasantly inside Sophie, deep inside, where Reuben had surged with the full force of his passion just a few hours before.

  'Sophie’s going to make it particularly special for us, aren’t you, Sophie?’ Mark said, linking his arm through Sophie’s in imitation of Clarice. ‘She’s Reuben’s resident expert on local flora and fauna. Quite the find, I’m told.'

  'Looking forward to it,' Clarice said dismissively, turning away from Sophie to give her full attention to Reuben. 'You look wonderful, darling. Already you have this glorious tan and seem so relaxed. Africa seems to agree with you, but you don’t want to stay out too long. Horrible what damage the sun does to the skin,' she added, glancing over her shoulder at Sophie.

  ‘You know, Sophie,’ Mark said, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman with quite the same glorious glow of an African sunrise in her complexion as you, my dear.’

  Sophie couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, and Mark waggled his eyebrows at her.

  Reuben glared ferociously at his brother, and Sophie decided to take her leave. 'It's been nice meeting you, Mark,' she said. 'Now I'd better check on the local flora and fauna so I have something to show you after all.'

  'See ya,' Mark called after her, a forlorn look on his face, and Sophie left the three sophisticates, a broad grin on her face.

  That evening the guests saw a number of the farm’s resident species when Sophie, Isaac and Sipho took them to a watering hole—the best place to find a gathering of animals in the settling dusk. Sophie never ceased to be delighted when people caught their first glimpse of zebra or majestic eland sipping at the water's edge. Seeing these animals—their sheer size, the ripple and twitch of muscle, and subtle or dramatic hues of coat and horns—was very different to watching them on television or the internet. And when people realised this simple fact, they were a little more likely to make decisions that would ultimately protect these animals in their natural habitats. It was for this reason Sophie felt a sense of triumph as a chorus of 'ahhs', ‘wows’ and 'look at thats' rose into the warm evening air.

  It was as they alighted from the vehicles back at the house that she heard Mr McTavish—the man who’d instructed her to lug his heavy suitcase up the stairs—bring up the subject of hunting.

  'I'd like to bag one of the bigger buck. You did tell me you have wildebeest, didn't you?' he said, turning to Reuben.

  'I did, Gerry. And I do,' Reuben said, jovially.

  'Wildebeest,' McTavish said, rubbing his hands. 'Now that would be a prize for my lodge wall.'

  You’ll hang my still-seething head on a wall before you shoot a single animal on this farm, Sophie thought.

  'There’s no hunting at Labour’s End,' she told him, trying to sound firm but polite.

  McTavish simply ignored her and addressed Reuben again. 'I'm sure you’ll arrange something for me, old boy.'

  Sophie stepped closer to the man and extended her hand. ‘My name’s Sophie Kyle. I'm the conservationist on this farm, Mr McTavish. And as I said, you've come to the wrong place for hunting.'

  Only then did he look at Sophie for the first time since he’d arrived on the farm. 'Oh, come now,' he said, his face getting redder. 'Everyone comes to Africa to hunt.'

  'You've been misinformed,' Sophie countered, trying to keep her blood from boiling.

  'A word?' Reuben said in a tight voice, interrupting what would have been her list of reasons people came to Africa, other than to hunt. 'My study.'

  'You're not going to allow that horrible man to hunt, are you?' Sophie said to his back as he strode towards the house.

  He said nothing until they were behind the closed door of his study.

  ‘There is no hunting on this farm,’ Sophie stated.

  Reuben hesitated.

  'Reuben, no!'

  'This is a matter that needs to be discussed.'

  'No, it is not! This is not a business negotiation. There's absolutely nothing to discuss. 'No healthy animal is being killed on this farm on my watch. I was very clear about that before I took this position.'

  'You forget who this farm belongs to, Sophie.'

  She was stopped by the coldness in his voice. This was a side of the man she had not seen before—Reuben Manning, ruthless businessman.

  But Sophie wasn't easily intimidated. She shook her head. 'One of the reasons I took this job on a private game farm was because it was to be a preservation farm.'

  'Conservationists are the first people to advocate responsible hunting, and they often use culling to control animal populations,' Reuben countered.

  'Not advocate,’ Sophie said, shaking her head. ‘As long as some conservationists resort to old-fashioned quick-fixes, humane and sustainable solutions to overpopulation will never be found, much less implemented. My brief was to preserve and repopulate the ecosystems on this farm, and hunting has absolutely no place in that mandate. I can't believe you've been here for two minutes and you're condoning hunting on your property. For some reason I thought you had a real feel for the animals. That you wanted to do something special here to preserve their beauty and the critical role they play in this ecosystem.'

  Reuben came towards her. Stopped just in front of her. Close. Too close. She couldn't think when she could feel his body heat just inches away. And in this menacing mood he'd never seemed so powerful, so vibrantly masculine.

  'Rest assured I do not condone hunting, Sophie. And, yes, I do want to preserve the animals on this farm. But understand one thing; Gerry McTavish is an important business associate of mine. One I cannot afford to alienate. So I have every intention of handling the situation with as much diplomacy as I possibly can. You, on the other hand, were gearing up to rip the man's heart out.'

  Sophie breathed a sigh of relief even though the battle was far from over. ‘His throat, maybe. I don’t think he has a heart,’ she said, dryly. ‘You do know part of my training has been to educate people before I resort to ripping their throats out?'

  'What about dart hunting?'

  'No. There's only one way all this killing for sport is going to stop, and that's if people’s attitudes change. They need to stop seeing animals as things to be shot at and killed and stuck on a wall. The only way to begin is by showing off the intricate workings and full splendour of animals in their natural habitat. It has to start somewhere and you have the power to draw that line here, Reuben, on your farm.'

  Caught up in the passion of her beliefs, Sophie had placed a hand on his arm. She saw him look down at her fingers, take a deep breath. When he looked up again, his eyes blazed with equal passion. 'I suppose I should go and tell Gerry he's going home without a wildebeest.'

  ‘Tell him he can support local crafters by buying a beautiful painting of a wildebeest and hanging that on his wall.’

  Sophie’s smile was full of delight. Reuben's eyes were on her lips. He placed his palm against her cheek and rubbed his thumb acro
ss the plumpness of her bottom lip. She opened her mouth and nibbled the digit. Reuben’s jaw flexed, his eyes blazing as he dipped his head to kiss her. Sophie's breath quickened, her eyes closed, lips parted.

  'Damn!' Reuben said suddenly, and Sophie's eyes flew open. 'I can't keep my head around you, can I?'

  He looked a little irritated and strode from the room, leaving Sophie stranded in the middle of the carpet.

  She had her supper in the staff dining room at the main house. She could have eaten at her cottage, but was pretty sure that would have been depressing with all the activity going on at the house.

  It was difficult having to spend the evening apart from Reuben while he wined and dined his friends and business associates. Sophie hadn't been invited. Truth is, she felt only relief that she’d been excluded from the group. She just couldn’t picture herself sitting at the gleaming table in the dining room surrounded by Prada, Dior and Pringle, and she in her generic khakis or her drawstring trousers as talk went on about the London Stock Exchange or the latest West End production. The thought made her cringe.

  Sophie was an educated woman, could hold her own intellectually in any company, but what would they talk about? The polo scene? And many of the places they spoke of so flippantly, she still dreamed of visiting someday.

  The missing dinner invitation had delivered a message from Reuben that was loud and clear—you don't belong in my life. A snatched afternoon here and there, or a stolen night together. That was all they would give to each other. But Sophie was falling in love with Reuben, and the thought of him eating his dinner out there, and she in here, hurt her to the core. She was an employee, one of the staff.

  So Sophie gave herself a mental kick up the trousers and looked around the kitchen at those who would be her dining companions for the night.

  Patience and Beauty were serving in the dining room while Mrs September worked furiously in the kitchen. Sara hovered, making sure everything ran on well-oiled wheels. Rolf was his usual self; grounded, totally unfazed by all the frenetic activity around him; a cold beer and the sports pages on the table in front of him. Isaac and Sipho were, as usual, in high spirits and a laugh a minute.