Moonflower Page 8

  In fact, Sophie felt light-hearted and relaxed by the time she left the kitchen. She'd also had an extra crème brûlée on her way out. The garden was beautiful at night. Lanterns lit up the verandah and torches twinkled like fairy lights in the flowerbeds and around the lake.

  The warm night air was perfumed with a bouquet of African herbs as she strolled along the path away from the house.

  'Sophie, is it?'

  She turned to see Clarice picking her way carefully along the path in a pair of silver stilettos. Her heart sank.

  'I thought you and I could have a little chat,' Clarice said, catching up to her.

  Sophie couldn't imagine what she and this woman could possibly have to chat about. 'What can I do for you, Clarice?'

  'Well,' she said, slightly out of breath. 'It's really what I can do for you.'

  Sophie, being Sophie, couldn't stop her eyebrows shooting towards her hairline.

  'Well, you see, I've noticed that Reuben is really quite taken with you.' The other woman watched Sophie's face carefully. Had they been that obvious?

  Sophie told herself not to move a facial muscle on pain of death. Clarice seemed ever so slightly flustered with nothing to go by but Sophie’s poker face.

  'I want to give you a little advice, Sophie. Reuben is a hot-blooded male, a titan in every sense of the word, and that has its own type of intoxication, doesn’t it? I know this from personal experience.'

  Again the study of Sophie’s face which, again, gave not a single emotion away, even though she had to block from her mind the image of this woman in Reuben’s bed.

  'Reuben is a very successful businessman; I don’t know if you know that,’ Clarice went on. ‘And one day, when he does decide to marry, it will be to someone who can maintain and contribute to his lifestyle. Entertain the important people he does business with, fit seamlessly into his social circle.’ She spread her hands to indicate Sophie’s khakis. ‘That person is not you, Sophie. You do understand?'

  Sophie's throat was so tight she could barely get the words out, but she wasn't going to give Clarice the satisfaction of seeing how much her words had wounded her. ‘Labour’s End, after years of neglect, needs a capable conservationist to preserve and replenish its plants and wildlife. That is who I am, Clarice. That is what I do.'

  Clarice half-turned from Sophie; looking decidedly annoyed. ‘I heard about the hunting incident this evening, and your opposition to it. McTavish is an important businessman, and it's not like Reuben to just give in like that, and definitely not to a paid employee on a bottom rung. Gerry was quite upset about it. It’s not like Reuben at all.'

  ‘To do the right thing, you mean?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Clarice snapped. ‘Reuben is always sensible. And the sensible thing would have been to let McTavish bag his bloody buck or whatever it was he wanted.’

  'Have you ever thought,' Sophie said, anger blooming in her chest, 'that Reuben's decision was based on what he felt was right at the time? I merely brought up the moral argument. The decision was Reuben's, and I think it’s wonderful that he made the moral, ethical decision over the commercially expedient one.'

  Clarice took a step closer to Sophie, peered up into her face. 'You've known him for, what? A few weeks? This has been a little holiday for him. A break. That’s all. You’ve seen one small side of the industry that is Reuben Manning. Do you think he’s achieved all he has by being the nice person in the room? Reuben has an ability for ruthlessness you have no idea about. He runs his life like an efficiently operated corporation; even his private life. Everything is measured, rationalised.'

  Clarice seemed to take pity on Sophie, and smiled at her in a kindly way that made Sophie’s stomach roil. ‘You really don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you, poor thing?’

  Clarice shook her head in mock-sympathy. 'You see, dear Sophie; doing what is commercially expedient, as you call it, is exactly what Reuben does. How long do you think it would be before he became resentful of being coerced into making decisions that were contrary to all his instincts? Only the strongest and the most cunning survive the force of nature that is Reuben Manning. His life, his world are simply no place for a sweet fresh young thing like you. You’re little more than a young girl, really. And it’s obvious you’re most at home stomping around the African bush in khaki shorts. Do you understand how utterly out of his league you are?’

  Sophie did understand, and all she wanted to do was run from this woman and her determination to torment her.

  Clarice visibly brightened as she said, ‘One other thing to keep in mind. No matter how… enamoured, Reuben may seem to be, he’s become very good at dealing with gold-diggers over the years.’

  Sophie looked sharply at the other woman, opened her mouth to speak.

  Clarice quickly held up a placating hand. ‘Not that I’m saying you’re a gold-digger, of course. But Reuben’s ridiculously careful about who he allows into his life. Oh, there’ve been many women who’ve thought they had a foot in the door, only to find that’s about as far as they were ever likely to get. With all Reuben’s money you can’t blame him for being careful, can you?’

  Sophie continued holding a tight rein on her emotions. All she had to do was keep her dignity until she got to the cottage. It was not too far away. 'If you'll excuse me,' she said, turning. 'I have an early start tomorrow.'

  'Don't be upset,' Clarice called after her. ‘Just a bit of friendly advice, one woman to another.’

  Sophie tossed and turned until well after midnight, and when she finally did fall asleep she dreamed of Reuben, his magnificent head bending towards her. She closed her eyes, waiting for the touch of his lips that would ignite a fire within her, but it never came. A feeling of hollow bereavement came over her and when she opened her eyes, to her horror, Reuben’s face had become the head of a wildebeest and he watched her with cruel amusement.

  Chapter Seven

  Sophie stayed away from the house the next day for as long as she possibly could. The last person she wanted to see was Clarice and her pitying stares. Or Reuben for that matter. Least of all Reuben.

  The mere sight of him caused not only a flutter in Sophie's stomach, but an ache in her heart, too. She’d fallen quickly for the man and she’d fallen hard.

  Clarice was right, of course. Sophie had existed in her own little world since they’d first made love. Nothing Clarice had said to Sophie was a revelation, except for Clarice’s assertion that Reuben was cold and ruthless. She had seen another man entirely. One with the thinnest of shells, beneath which blazed an inferno of passion and emotion. Could she have been wrong? She supposed she could. If Reuben was as ruthless as Clarice maintained he was, then unsophisticated Sophie would have been easily hoodwinked.

  Sophie had the time in which it took to shower and dress to get her head straight. She might leave Labour’s End with a broken heart, but she was damned if she’d give up a good reference and another entry on her résumé. She had a job to do. No, it was far more than a job. Conservation was a passion, a cause, and letting it slide just wouldn't do.

  By eleven o'clock, Sophie could no longer put off the inevitable. She had to go to the house to discuss with Rolf and Sara the arrangements that had been made to fix the fences around the farm.

  Thirty minutes later, she was leaving Sara's office when she heard Reuben call her as she passed his study. The sound of her name on his lips, deep and vibrating, thrilled her, filling her with a bursting desire that had, since yesterday, become mingled with pain.

  She wanted to run to him, fling herself against his broad chest. Hear the beat of his heart against her ear, his arms circling her back, pressing her to him, a strong hand slipping upwards, tangling fingers in her hair.

  Again he called to her.

  Sophie stood stock-still in the passageway, undecided, fists bunched at her sides. Her mind raced with Clarice’s cautions, but her heart seemed to egg her on to run to him so she could again know the truth of how their
bodies felt together, the certainty of his breath against her lips, as if they shared one breath between them.

  Then Reuben was at the door, taking her hand, drawing her inside, closing the door behind them. All the while she felt like a car wreck inside; mangled, confused, insides twisted.

  'Is something wrong, Sophie?' he asked, frowning down at her. Looking worried, concerned.

  Sophie’s heart melted like morning dew on the savannah.

  She said nothing; shook her head.

  'I've missed you,' he said, cupping her face in his hands so she had no choice but to breathe in the scent of him—unique masculinity, expensive earthy aftershave.

  He dipped his head, touched his lips to hers. Played tenderly with her top lip, then the fullness of her bottom lip. Sophie was breathing hard by the time he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and she was desperate for the taste of him; intoxicated, making her head spin.

  Sophie shuddered as he pressed his hips to her centre. She tried to recall Clarice’s words. Remember who she was before Reuben Manning had taken over her body and now, it seemed, her mind. She knew there was a bigger picture to her life. Long-term plans. She was Sophie Kyle: conservationist, daughter, sister, friend. And what did she really know about Reuben Manning, a man who seemed to present to the world two faces?

  Sophie pulled her mouth from his; brought her hands up to his chest and began to push away from him.

  Reuben stilled her hands, frowning down at her. 'Sophie?’

  She said nothing. Looked to her feet, because if she had to see his face, the navy blue eyes and sensuous lips, she would come undone and give in to him.

  He slipped a finger beneath her chin and gently lifted her face. ‘What's all this about, now?'

  Sophie tried to see him as if for the first time, without any of the emotions she’d begun to feel intruding on her assessment. He returned her gaze, openly, but there was a storm brewing in the deep blue eyes.

  She took a deep breath and stepped away. 'I’ve just realised I'm not such a big girl after all,' she said, and quickly left the room.

  If Reuben had allowed himself such weaknesses, he would have spent what time he had brooding about Sophie's reaction to him this morning. He had to admit he hadn’t seen it coming. Not long ago she had left his bed a contented woman. He couldn’t believe she was still upset about the question of hunting when he’d ruled there would be none on his farm. So what was Sophie’s game?

  Was it a childish reaction to her exclusion from dinner last night? It couldn’t be. She knew the deal, and he'd only ever been honest with her. They would spend time together when it suited them both; there was no other place for her in his life.

  But as he thought about these things, something niggled at the back of his mind. What he liked so much about Sophie was not only her fresh-faced beauty, but her integrity and lack of artifice. He had become tired of the games sophisticated women played. Sophie was practical, young but strong, with an extraordinary career ahead of her. He had assumed that she was in no more of a hurry to entangle her life with his, than he was to alter his path for her. It was the reason the arrangement suited them so well. Could he have been wrong about her?

  He felt so damned guilty. Why had the fact that she was upset thrown him to the extent that he spent moments of his scarce time trying to figure out the cause of her unhappiness?

  And now that he thought about it, if he were playing by his own rules—that they were to be together only when circumstances were ideal—why couldn't he walk past her without pulling her into his arms? He certainly did not want his friends and business associates to know that he had a sexual arrangement with his very young conservationist.

  So why did he risk looking at her in a way he was sure would tell anyone seeing them that all he could think about was devouring her lips, losing himself in her eyes, burying himself deep inside her until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began?

  Reuben sighed as the phone began to ring on his desk. Well at least tonight she was invited to dinner. With that, he dismissed Sophie Kyle from his mind.

  Sophie made her way to the main house to let guests know that the canopy-covered game viewing vehicles were ready to take them for a bush drive.

  This time, when Mr Solomon popped up from behind a rose bush, Sophie barely started at all. She stopped on the path to greet the old man. 'How are you, Mr Solomon?'

  'All these people traipsing around.' He waved his arm in the direction of the house and made a sour face.

  'Hmm,' Sophie said. 'I know how you feel. Kind of affects the atmosphere, doesn’t it?'

  'Here then,' he said, and pulled a pink rose from behind his back.

  'You spoil me, Mr Solomon,' Sophie said, reaching for the bloom. She brought it to her nose, closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed in its delicate fragrance. Studying the petals closely, she said, ‘Such a gentle pink. Like a baby's skin. So fragile.'

  'Now you remember, my girl,' Mr Solomon said, with some vehemence. 'She never asked the sun why it shone, or demanded from the rain why it came in its own time. She found her feet in fertile soil and bloomed because it was her nature to do so.'

  Sophie bent her head and kissed Mr Solomon’s weathered cheek.

  'Pffa,' he said, screwing up his face. 'Off you go now.'

  As Sophie turned back to the house, she realised the grumpy old man had lifted her spirits. She smiled, held the bloom to her nose, and set off down the path again.

  With pink rose pinned in her buttonhole, Sophie drove one of the heavy vehicles; Isaac and Sipho the other two. She was relieved that Reuben had chosen not to ride with her. At least this way she could be one hundred per cent focused. An absolute must on a drive like this, over uneven terrain.

  She eventually brought the trundling convoy to a halt and asked everyone to climb out. Right after a brief talk about the importance of being careful where you put your feet and remaining as silent as possible, she led the party along a dirt path, rifle in hand.

  Guided by her keen eyes and knowledge of the bushveld, the party were able to spot porcupines, a bat-eared fox and small herd of springbok that sprang away as soon as they picked up their scent, jumping high into the air in graceful arcs. Now and then Sophie would stop to point out a beetle, or plants and birds that were found nowhere else in the world. She would tell these travellers the stories of their struggles and their delicately balanced place in the ecosystem.

  They hadn't been walking ten minutes when Gerry McTavish began to feel the effects of his latest act of stupidity. He'd left his hat in one of the vehicles and his freckled skin was turning an angry red. Sophie had warned earlier that even though it was evening, the sun’s rays were still able to do some damage.

  But McTavish was arrogant. He’d spoken under his breath all the way through her precautionary talk and she was now tempted to leave him to his own stupidity. But Sophie took pride in looking after her charges, particularly those out of their depth in the bush. So she went to Sipho and Isaac. ‘Take over while I go back for Mr McTavish's hat.'

  Setting a brisk pace, she was soon back at the vehicles. She propped her rifle against the front tyre of the second vehicle and climbed in, but the hat was nowhere to be seen. She knew he had travelled in that vehicle and distinctly remembered seeing him twirl the hat on the end of his finger.

  She went to the last vehicle in line. As she got to the front bumper, she realised that something was amiss—a sixth sense she'd developed during years of field work. Then a water bottle came flying over the back seat and sailed very close to Sophie’s head. A second later, a furry head popped up. A baboon. Sophie thought it looked like the young male who had stolen her tyre iron then pelted her with a guava.

  Her rifle was out of reach. She took a step back. Stopped suddenly as the baboon began to scream. The noise was deafening. Definitely a young male, full of bravado and long, sharp teeth.

  Sophie froze, and after a moment he quietened down. Still keeping an eye on her, he began to feel
around the back seat. It was then Sophie heard someone call her name. Reuben.

  ‘Keep your voice down and don’t make any sudden moves,’ she told him in a low voice, not taking her eyes off the hairy visitor.

  'You all right, Sophie?'

  There was tension in his voice; she saw him out of the corner of her eye take a step towards her.

  ‘Don’t come any closer,’ she cautioned in a calm voice. 'Very slowly, pass me the rifle. It's against the front wheel of the second vehicle. No sudden moves. Very slow.'

  The baboon screamed as Reuben moved back, but he was distracted, now having two threats to deal with. Reuben made as few movements as possible, reached for the rifle and started back to Sophie.

  He came up slowly behind her, his chest touching her back, and handed her the rifle. In one swift motion, she put the firearm to her shoulder, stepped away from Reuben and fired into soft sand about a metre from where they stood.

  This time the baboon did not make a sound. He shot up in the air, landed back on the seat, gave her a filthy look and leapt out of the vehicle, heading across the veld; McTavish's hat and a bottle of mineral water clutched under his arm, an apple in his hand.

  'Just a baboon,' Sophie said, resetting the safety on her rifle.

  'Just a… an animal like that can do serious damage, Sophie.'

  ‘All in a day’s work,’ she said, shrugging.

  Reuben shook his head, fists pressed against powerful thighs. ‘That isn’t the baboon that stole your tyre iron, is it?’

  Sophie burst out laughing and nodded.

  ‘I don’t know how you can laugh about it,’ he said, coming towards her. ‘You sure you’re okay? I can drive the other vehicle if you’d like.’

  Sophie smiled at him and shook her head. ‘I’ve been doing this since I was a teenager and I’ve had many encounters like this. I’m absolutely fine.’