Moonflower (11 page)

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 across 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.

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.