No Greater Joy

by Rosemary Carter

  'I... I'd rather walk.'

  'Are you coming out of there? Or do I get you out by force?'

  The menace in Clint's tone was not lost on Alison. He tfould drag her to the car if she didn't co-operate— that was no idle threat.

  'I'll come by myself...' she began.

  He took her arm as she emerged from the bushes, and propelled her towards the car. There was nothing gentle in the way he bundled her in and closed the door. As the car took the road to the camp at a spanking speed, Alison huddled against her door, as far as she could get from six feet two inches of very angry man.

  'Clint...' she said once, tentatively.

  'Later,' he advised abruptly, and she was wise enough to leave it at that.

  The moment they reached camp, Alison opened the car door, thinking to make a quick getaway to her cabin while Clint was parking the Porsche. But this time he had the wisdom of foresight. In the time it took her to walk three steps away from the car, he had caught up with her, and seized her arm.

  'Clint, please...'

  'Skip it,' he ordered, and marched her to her cabin.

  She had only one hope left—a slight one. While Clint was driving she had taken her key from her bag; it was in her hand now. The moment they reached the cabin she opened the door and tried to walk quickly through it. But any hope she'd had of closing the door in his face vanished as he inserted his foot through the doorway.

  'No, you don't!' Clint was in the cabin too now. He flicked on the light, then advanced towards Alison. He looked stern and dangerous.

  'Leave me, Clint.' Her head was up, her tone as firm as she could possibly make it, as she tried to hide her fear. 'Please leave me.'

  'Sit down.'

  She decided to stand her ground. 'I'm very tired.'

  'Not that tired. Sit down, I said!'Sensing that Clint Demaine in a temper would be a dangerous man to contend with, Alison decided to comply. She sat down on the little two-seater settee by the window. It was either that or the bed.

  Clint didn't sit. He just stood there, looking down at her, and his expression did not fill her with joy.

  'What the heck was that all about?' he demanded.

  She wetted her lips with her tongue. 'I'm sorry.'

  'Sorry?' He spat out the word. 'Sorry? My God, Alison, you behave like a child. And then you think you can brush the whole thing aside by saying you're sorry!'

  'But I am—I really am.'

  She put her hands in front of her eyes to hide the tears that she was trying so hard to hold back.

  'What got into you? I thought we were having a good time.'

  'We were,' she muttered.

  'That you were relaxed for once.'

  'I was.'

  'Did I hold you too tight? Was that what frightened you into behaving like an outraged virgin?'

  She shook her head. Her throat was so full of tears that it was hard to speak.

  Gripping her shoulders, Clint gave her a little shake. 'You have to tell me, Alison. You owe me that much.'

  'Raymond...' She swallowed hard on the tears. 'Raymond liked "In the Mood", even though it's an oldie. Mom and Dad have the record at home. We... we used to dance to it, Raymond and I, and he... he would hum the tune in my ear—just as you did.'

  Clint's lips tightened. His face was thunderous. 'Good lord, is that what this drama is all about? "In the Mood" brought on such a bout of homesickness for the wretched Raymond that you had to go and behave like a second- rate actress?'

  'It's not like that...'

  But he was too angry to hear her out. 'Alison Lenox— the independent woman who didn't give a damn for what her man thought when it came to taking a job. Who just went ahead and made her own decisions without even talking to him.'

  'I know you're angry, but you don't understand...'

  'Too right, I don't! Do you know how I felt on that dance-floor, Alison? All those people watching as you ran from my arms and out of the hotel—as if I'd done something thoroughly indecent!'

  'Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I didn't think about that. I don't blame you for being angry, but you see...'

  'All you thought about was how much you were missing Raymond. If you love him so much that the mere sound of another man humming your song throws you into histrionics, then you should have refused my offer, no matter how much you want to buy a horse. You love him, he loves you. Why on earth did you agree to come away with me?'

  In a choked voice, Alison said, 'Raymond doesn't love me.'

  Clint took a step backwards. He looked stunned.

  After a moment he said, 'You've lost me, Alison. Somehow I thought Raymond was the love of your life.'

  'I thought so, too.' Her throat was so raw that it felt like sandpaper.

  'Perhaps you'd better explain.' His voice was a fraction softer now.

  'Raymond left me. We'd had an argument...'

  'People do have arguments. You'll make it up.' 'No, we won't.' She looked up at him. Tears hovered^ on her lashes, but her eyes were steady. 'You see, there's someone else. Her name is Edna, and they're getting married.'

  'Good heavens!' And then, 'The man must have been an absolute fool to let you go.'

  'Do you really think so?

  'I wouldn't say so if I didn't.'

  There was something in the way he said the words that made Alison feel better. For the first time since she'd run away from him on the dance-floor she didn't feel like crying her eyes out.

  'The engagement party is tonight,' she added.

  After a long moment Clint said, 'So that's why you were so upset.'

  'It's been on my mind all day.'

  'No wonder! And yet you agreed to come to the hotel with me.'

  'I thought I'd feel better if I was out and having a good time. For a while, I did feel better. I really was enjoying myself. And then...'

  'Then I hummed that darn tune in your ear.'

  'There's no way you could have known.' She looked at him hopefully. 'Do you... do you understand why I behaved so stupidly?'

  'Understand?' In a second he was by her side, folding his long body beside her into the settee. 'I'd be an insensitive clod if I didn't understand. What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me the truth.'

  Awkwardly she said, 'There were reasons.'

  Mercifully, he seemed prepared to leave it at that. There were no more questions as his arm went around her and his hand tightened on her shoulder. Alison did not push him away.

  It felt so good to have some human contact, to feel as if someone cared. It didn't matter that sympathy was probably as much as Clint was offering. She didn't want more from him than that. And although she was trying very hard to be self-sufficient in every possible way, tonight of all nights sympathy was something she could afford to accept.

  'Did you come away with me because of Raymond?' Clint asked at length.

  'No.' She turned in the circle of his arms and looked up at him. His eyes were dark and alert. 'I wasn't running away.'

  'I didn't think you'd be the type to do that.'

  'I'm not!' She sounded suddenly fierce. 'Oh, I won't pretend I'm not glad to be away from all the excitement going on at this moment—I am. But I meant what I said about getting my own stables. It's something I've always wanted. The money I earn at Bushveld really will go towards a horse. That's why I took the job.'

  'In which case,' he said drily, 'I wonder why your first reaction was to refuse me.'

  Alison moved her eyes from his. She didn't see how she could tell him that the reason she'd refused him was because he was too attractive.

  'I...I suppose I wasn't thinking properly. Does it matter, Clint?'

  He laughed softly. 'All that matters is that you did come, and that you're here with me now.'

  His other arm went around her, and now he was folding her against his chest. She did not protest when he began to kiss her. His kisses were gentle, and tonight her defences were down. Stronger than all her resolutions was her desire to feel beautiful, to feel wanted
.

  Then the kisses deepened, becoming hungrier, more passionate. Demanding a response.

  Reality returned quite suddenly. Horrified at what she had allowed Clint to do, Alison stiffened. But he did not seem to notice. One of his hands slid beneath her dress to the soft bare swell of her breasts.

  The breath jerked harshly in her throat, and then she was pushing him away from her.

  Clint's head lifted. 'What's wrong?*

  'You know what's wrong,' she said through tight lips. 'I don't want this.'

  'Everything's changed, Alison.'

  'Nothing has changed for me.'

  He was sitting a little away from her now. His eyes were dark and speculative. 'You don't owe Raymond loyalty any longer.'

  'It's not a question of loyalty.' Her throat felt raw. 'You don't understand, Clint. I don't intend to replace Raymond—not with you, not with anyone.'

  She heard his hissing intake of breath. 'You're still feeling hurt.'

  'But thinking clearly.'

  'Alison...' He was reaching for her again.

  But this time she eluded him. 'Go, Clint. Please go.'

  For a long moment they sat quite still, looking at each other.

  'We will make love—one day,' Clint said at last.

  'No.'

  'When you're ready for it.'

  'I'll never be ready.' Alison was beginning to tremble.

  His expression changed suddenly. There was a sparkle in his eyes, and his lips lifted at the corners. '"Never" is one word I've always refused to recognise.'

  The trembling was becoming worse. 'I need to be alone now, Clint.'

  'I'm going.' He smiled at her as he got to his feet. 'Sleep well, Alison.'

  The door closed behind him, and she took a long, shuddering breath. Sleep well... She'd be lucky if she slept at all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALISON was busy with paperwork again the next morning when Clint appeared in the office. He looked so very attractive as he smiled at her from the doorway that Alison was powerless to control a strange stirring within her.

  'Working again?'

  'Just earning my salary.' She was uneasy with him after what had happened the night before, but she tried to hide her feelings with a smile.

  'I'd like you to do something quite different this morning,' he told her.

  'Oh?'

  'The saddles in the stables could do with a good polish. They're in a sorry state.'

  Eyes widening with surprise, she looked at the pile of files in front of her. 'I still have quite a bit to do here,' she said.

  'This will keep,' he said easily.

  'But, Clint, the counsellors arrive tomorrow, and the campers two days after that.'

  'Patricia will be back by then, and she'll deal with what's left.' He grinned at her in pretend disbelief. 'Are you telling me you mind working in the stables?'

  The words had her on her feet in a second. 'It's what I adore!'

  Five minutes later she was perched on a low stool in the stables with a pile of saddles, a jar of polish and some cloths on the floor at her feet. With a sigh of pleasure, she took a saddle and began to work on it.

  This was Alison's world—the whinnying of the horses, the clopping of hooves, the smell of fresh straw. The feel of saddle-leather between her hands, the dimness of the stables in contrast to the glare of sun-baked rock outside. This was the world she loved.

  She straightened in surprise when Clint appeared. She was even more surprised when he drew up a stool beside her and took a saddle from the pile.

  'I can manage these on my own,' she protested.

  'Four hands make for faster work than two. Have you any objection to my helping you?' There was a smile in his voice.

  After a moment, she said, 'No... It isn't necessary, though.'

  'Perhaps not,' he agreed, but he remained where he was.

  For a while they worked in silence, Alison continuing to polish the saddle on her lap as if nothing had changed. But for her something had changed. Till then she had enjoyed the smells and sounds of the stables, now she was conscious only of Clint.

  He was buffing the polish on a saddle when he broke the silence. 'This is where Bushveld Camp started,' he told her.

  She looked up. The light was too dim to make out the expression in his eyes, but she was caught by something in his tone.

  'These stables?'

  'This used to be a fishing shack. It was much smaller, of course, most of it was added later. But part of the original structure is still standing.'He fell silent again, and Alison, sensing that he had begun to tell her something important, did not speak either.

  At length he went on. 'I was married once, did you know?'

  'Jenny told me...'

  He doesn't talk about his marriage often, Jenny had said. Alison could not have said why she felt suddenly tense.

  'Then she must have told you that Linda died, nine years ago, in a senseless accident. Afterwards...a couple of weeks afterwards... I came up here.'

  'Here?' Alison whispered.

  'I was crazy with grief. And ridden with guilt, because I'd allowed her to drive on a stormy night, when I should have made her stay at home.'

  'Were... were you alone?'

  'It was the way I wanted it. I had to be alone, to grieve, to think—to make some sense of things.' Clint put down the saddle and looked at her. 'Years ago, my father used to bring my brothers and me up here to fish. It was the place where I used to be happiest. When tragedy struck, I came back.'

  'You must have loved Linda very much,' Alison said softly.

  'Yes, I loved her. She was small and sweet and pretty, and Y always felt I had to protect her. That was what made the guilt all the worse.'

  'You weren't to blame.'

  'You couldn't have convinced me of that then.' Clint picked up the saddle and resumed his polishing. 'The first months after Linda's death were very rough. But somehow I survived. And it was partly this place that did it—the mountains, the stream, the wild beauty of the veld.'

  'It is beautiful here,' she agreed. 'Even more beautiful than I'd expected.'

  'The most beautiful place in the world for me. When I decided to start the camp, this was the natural place to build it. And the hotel up the road was the first of the chain.'

  Bravely, Alison said, 'Jenny said you don't often talk about Linda.'

  'She's right about that. Even Don doesn't know that I came here. Or what this place did for me.'

  Silence fell between them once more. The swishing of the polishing cloths and the grunting of a horse in a nearby stall were the only sounds in the stables. Alison polished fiercely, almost as if her life depended on it.

  At length, it was her turn to break the silence. 'Why did you tell me, Clint?'

  'I wanted to.'

  'It was more than that. You brought me here on purpose to tell me. I could have gone on working in the - office, the saddles could have waited.'

  'I had to tell you I was sorry.' Clint's voice was soft.

  'Sorry?' Her head jerked.

  'I've behaved very badly since we met—teasing you constantly about Raymond.'

  'You couldn't have known,' she said painfully.

  'Maybe not, but there was something odd about the relationship all along. The fact that he wasn't around to say goodbye to you when we left. He didn't phone. And you were so uptight every time I mentioned him.'

  'You couldn't have known,' she said again.

  Without warning, he reached out a hand to cover one of hers. The contact shocked her. Where it touched her, his skin was so warm and alive, stirring a longing deep inside her that she tried very hard not to acknowledge. Beneath his fingers her hand stiffened.

  At her reaction, Clint's hand left hers. 'At any rate, I was insensitive. I'm sorry.'

  Alison took a breath. 'Thank you.'

  'Feel like talking about it?'

  'Heavens, no! I don't want to bore you.' The words came out too quickly.

  'I told you on
ce before that you could never do that. And it helps to talk. Trite, I know, but true.'

  She looked at him thoughtfully. It had been almost impossible to talk to her family; they were too close to her, to Raymond, too cut up about the whole thing. And so terribly sorry for her. They didn't seem to understand that their pity only made things worse.

  'I can't remember- a time when Raymond wasn't part of my life,' she said at length. 'We were toddlers together, Clint. I mean, we shared the same toys and played in the same sandpit. All through school we were in the same classes. We were best friends. We did everything together.'

  'Sounds like brother and sister,' Clint observed drily.

  'In a way, Raymond was the brother I never had,' she acknowledged.

  'You don't marry a brother, Alison.'

  'I know what you're trying to say. But things changed. At some point in high school we became boyfriend and girlfriend. It was taken for granted we would get married one day.'

  'Taken for granted by whom?' Clint asked quietly.

  'Our parents. Ourselves.'

  'It doesn't sound very exciting, Alison.'

  'It wasn't exciting,' she conceded. 'It was...' she searched for a word, 'comfortable. I knew—I thought I knew—that Raymond and I would always be there for each other. I was wrong...' Her voice quivered.

  A moment passed, then Clint said, 'Last night you talked about an argument.'

  'A very silly argument, yes.'

  'Why didn't the two of you sort out your differences?'

  'At first I was too proud. Raymond was always the first to make things up, and I thought I'd wait for him again this time. Afterwards... well, I tried to make the first move when I saw he wasn't going to do it. But it was too late by then.'

  'He'd already taken up with Edna?' Clint asked disbelievingly.

  'Thinking back, I realise now that things hadn't been all that good for a while before the argument. And Edna—I know now that Raymond was already seeing her. Considering the size of the village, it's amazing I didn't know, but I didn't. It seems they went out of their way to keep their meetings secret.'

  'I think you said Edna was the boss's daughter.' Clint's tone was noncommittal.

  'And Raymond is ambitious, yes. But I believe there's more to it. I think he loves Edna. I really don't believe he could be so ambitious as to want to marry her just because her father can do great things for him.' She put her hand over her eyes. 'No, I can't believe it's that.