Lacey was surprised by his gentle, caring tone of voice; the warmth in his smile. She desperately wanted to blurt out the truth, to tell him that she was sorry for running away like a frightened young springbok. She wasn’t like that normally. She wasn’t the kind of woman who went round flirting and breaking men’s hearts. Besides, if anything, it was her heart that was close to breaking now.
But why? Was it really because she dreaded having to disappoint her father – again - or possibly hurt her own fiancé? Or was it something else? Something to do with her feelings for Tate Maddox? Feelings that she didn’t want to acknowledge - was too scared even to admit. Anxiously, she glanced at the impossibly handsome man leaning out of the car window; his flinty eyes dark and intense; his forearm draped along the car door.
And then it hit her! God help her, but she was in love with Tate Maddox! In love with this tough, virile man with the molten gunmetal eyes and crooked smile. She loved him, even though she didn’t really like what he stood for. And there was a lot to dislike! She didn’t like the fact that he refused to acknowledge his own son, that he exploited his workers in order to make money and that he surrounded himself with wealthy socialites who truly believed that catering to the rich and famous was all that really mattered. But somehow, in spite of everything, she loved him. How stupid was that?
Well, she decided, gritting her teeth and gulping back the sense of disbelief, love him or hate him, it didn’t really matter. He had no place in her world - and she certainly had no place in his. With that, a steely determination flashed into her eyes as she took a step back and nodded coolly.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied, mustering every ounce of courage and dignity she possessed . ‘Why shouldn’t I be? Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ve got loads more to do. Have a safe journey and I’ll see you when you get back.’
With that, she looked away so that she didn’t have to see the scorn in Tate’s expression as he flicked the engine into life and closed the window to let the air conditioning kick in. She didn’t see it, but she could feel it. And she was overwhelmed with despair as the car purred away into the distance, taking Tate away from Matshana. Away from her.
She stood beside Nandi, waving at Themba, until the car was out of sight. Then the two women ambled back into the house together. ‘He is a good man,’ Nandi said simply as they entered the kitchen. Lacey went to the fridge and pulled out a jug of homemade lemonade. She couldn’t trust herself to reply, and she didn’t want to disagree with Nandi, so she said nothing.
‘I pray that he will find himself a good woman soon and settle down.’ Nandi was rummaging around in her larder. She didn’t notice that Lacey had gone quiet. She emerged clutching various ingredients for the banana bread she’d promised Tate. ‘He should get married. Yes! That would make me very happy. The Nkosi needs a wife.’
Lacey sipped her lemonade through a straw. ‘Sure, but what about you, Nandi? You’re always thinking about Tate. You never think about yourself. Never think about what you want and need. Maybe you should get married.’ Lacey grinned as Nandi turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. ‘That’s it! That’s what we need to do – find Nandi a husband. Let’s forget about Tate for a while. Let’s get you married first. Now that’s something that would make me very happy!’
Nandi started peeling bananas. She was clearly embarrassed and seemed quite unable to look up and meet Lacey’s eyes.
‘Nandi? Is there something you’re not telling me?’ Lacey teased, leaning her elbows on the table and fixing Nandi with a playful smile. Nandi nodded. ‘I am going to be married, Miss Lacey. Very soon.’ Lacey jumped to her feet and hurried round the table to envelop Nandi in a huge hug. ‘It’s Thomas, isn’t it?’ She was almost beside herself with joy.
Nandi beamed. ‘He is a good man, Miss Lacey. And Themba loves him.’
‘Oh Nandi. I’m so pleased for you both – and for darling Themba. I’m sure you’ll all be really happy together.’ ‘I know that, too. In fact, Miss Lacey, this weekend, while you and the Nkosi are at the party in Pretoria, I will be with my sister. She is making my wedding dress. It is a lovely apricot colour. My sister says it is very beautiful.’
‘I’m sure it is, Nandi. And it will look even more beautiful when you wear it. So, when is the wedding?’ ‘As soon as the new lodges are finished.’
‘Why do you have to wait for the lodges? Why can’t you get married whenever you want? You shouldn’t have to put your plans on hold just to suit Tate’s money-making schemes. I’m surprised he’d want you to do that for him. It’s so selfish’
Nandi murmured soothing sounds as she opened the bag of flour and sifted it into the bowl. ‘This is what the Nkosi wants. It is best for everyone. We must finish the lodges first. When they are finished, they will make lots of money. The Nkosi only wants what is best for us. For me and Thomas and little Themba.’
Lacey snorted disdainfully. Not a hope in hell, she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. There was absolutely no point in arguing with Nandi where Tate was concerned. The man could do nothing wrong in her eyes. She clearly adored him, and her loyalty to him was constant. In fact, Lacey envied her that single minded devotion. She wished she could feel the same about Mortimer!
‘At least you and Thomas won’t be so busy when the lodges are finished. That’ll be great. You know, I hate it when I see you guys working so hard, hours after your shifts. I worry that you’re doing too much.’
Nandi leaned across and patted Lacey’s hand. ‘You do not need to worry about me. I am very happy. And I will be even happier when the lodges are finished. And then, Thomas and I will be very busy, but we are pleased about that. We want to do everything we can to help the Nkosi fulfil his dream. His dream is our dream, too. Because we love him.’
Lacey gripped her glass and stared out of the window at the leafy foliage and bright bougainvillea. Nandi’s world was so simple, so pure and honest. In comparison, her own life was filled with guilt, regret and lies. It was horribly complicated and miserable, and she wished with all her heart that she could stay here at Matshana while its healing balm washed away her troubles.
But she couldn’t. Her future lay in Cape Town, where she would enjoy all the trappings of wealth, but without any of the simple pleasures that money could bring. But was that life going to be with Mortimer? If she shut away her feelings for Tate, no-one would get hurt. Mortimer need never know that was in love with another man. And she would do everything she could to make him happy.
Okay, so she’d have to carry this extra bit of guilt for the rest of her life. But she was already bearing an immense burden, and she’d managed to cope with that. Now, for her father’s sake, and for Mortimer, she should sacrifice her own chance of happiness in order to make them happy. Surely that was the right thing to do?
Blissfully unaware of Lacey’s inner turmoil, Nandi turned to her. ‘And you must come to the wedding, Miss Lacey. I would like that. And I know that you would enjoy it very much. It will be a true African wedding.’
Lacey reached across and took Nandi’s hand. ‘I would be honoured to come, Nandi dear. I can think of nothing better than watching two people declare their love for each other at a real wedding in Africa.’
CHAPTER NINE
Saturday. The day of Tilly’s party. And still Lacey hadn’t plucked up the courage to call Mortimer and do the decent thing. Hanging on the back of the wardrobe door was an exquisite haute-couture evening dress; a gift from another man. The man she would be going to the party with. The most attractive, most incredible man she’d ever known. Yet still her cell phone lay closed in her lap.
The intricate bead work and gleaming bronze fabric shimmered through the protective wrap covering the dress. On the floor was a pair of open-toe, jewel-encrusted sling-back sandals with towering heels that matched her dress perfectly. She wondered what Tate would think when he saw her all togged up for a party. He’d only ever seen her dressed casually before.
But what did it matter what he
thought? She wasn’t his date. She was simply tagging along to his girlfriend’s party. His girlfriend! Best not forget that - although, to be honest, she had forgotten it! How, she couldn’t begin to imagine. Not only had she been cheating on her fiancé the other day, Tate had been cheating on his girlfriend, too!
Viewed that way, the whole messy affair seemed sordid and horrible and she felt even worse – if that were possible. Something had happened to her here at Matshana. She, like countless other women before her if the truth were known, had allowed herself to be swept away by the seductive charms of Tate Maddox. She dreaded to think how many other hapless females had gone the same way. Why, even Nandi wasn’t immune to his spell. And now, here was yet another gullible young woman swooning at his feet. It was embarrassing. Stupid. And she felt so ashamed she wanted to curl up and die.
But, before she did anything too dramatic, there was one thing she had to do. She had to phone Mortimer and put a halt to the wedding. Her entire moral fabric may well have unravelled before her very eyes, but this was the one area where she still had some sense of honour. With trembling hands, she flipped open her cell phone and dialled Mortimer’s number.
He answered immediately. ‘Lacey!’ he said, recognising the caller ID. ‘This is a weird time to call.’
‘I know. Sorry if I’ve interrupted anything. It’s just that… well, we need to talk, Mortimer.’ ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I’m in a bit of a rush.’
‘Not really. It’s important.’
‘Okay. Fire away. But you’ll have to make it snappy, sweetheart.’
Lacey cradled the phone against her ear and reached for a tissue. She sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against her bed, staring at the dream dress that seemed to epitomise her shame.’
‘Mortimer, I’ve been thinking about the wedding. About us. I don’t know how to say this, but…. well, I don’t think we should go ahead it.’ ‘What? Are you crazy? It’s going to be the wedding of the century. Oh God, you’re not going through one of your “let’s keep it simple” - “I’m not into ostentatious wealth” phases again are you? I thought we’d sorted all that out ages ago. Our wedding’s going to be the biggest event to hit Cape Town in years. No way am I going to scurry off to some obscure hilltop church to do the deed. I want an all-singing, all-dancing affair as befits our status in society.’
‘It’s not the type of wedding I’m worrying about, Mortimer… I’m not sure we should have any wedding. I’ve been thinking that… that we should call the whole thing off.’
Mortimer gasped then cursed under his breath. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Lacey rolled the tissue into a ball in her fist. Tears welled in her eyes, and she was scared. Scared of telling Mortimer the truth. Scared of hurting him. But she had to do it. There was no way that she could go through with the marriage. Not now.
‘I’m not sure I’m the right woman for you, Mortimer. You deserve someone better. Someone you can be proud of. A wife who’ll fit in at all the best places.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Mortimer was angry now. ‘You’re the daughter of Jasper Van der Zyl. It doesn’t get much better than that. You can go any place you like, anywhere you like, and you’ll always be the crème de la crème.’
‘But I don’t want to be the crème de la crème. I just want to be me. I don’t want to spend my life jostling for status. I just want to be happy. To write my book. To enjoy my homeland.’
‘It’s Maddox, isn’t it?’ Mortimer snarled. ‘He’s turned your head, hasn’t he? The photographer emailed the pics yesterday. I’ve seen what he looks like. Half the women in the office, including our chief sub editor for God’s sake, are swooning over him. “Looks like a movie star” so they tell me. “Better than any male model” they reckon. So is that it? You’ve gone and got yourself some silly girlish crush on our precious Mr-Movie-StarAll-Action-Hero, Tate Maddox! That’s ridiculous, Lacey. You should know better.’
‘It’s not about Tate,’ Lacey lied. ‘It’s about me, Mortimer.’ ‘ You? What about me! What about your father? Have you bothered to think about us? Or has the Movie Star completely robbed you of your senses? You’re twenty seven years old, Lacey. You’re not a kid. Act your age, for God’s sake.’
Lacey dabbed at her eyes with the soggy tissue, now crumpled into damp little pieces. ‘I am thinking of you, Mortimer. That’s why I’m doing this. I can’t make you happy. And, if I’m honest, I know that you can’t make me happy, either. Can’t you see that we were never meant to be? I’m sure of that now. I could never be the kind of wife you’d want me to be. And, if we did get married, you resent me for that in years to come. You’d regret marrying me, and you wouldn’t want that, would you? You deserve to be happy with someone better than me. I’ve got to let you go.’
‘Look Lacey, I can’t get into this right now. I’ve got some papers to go through and I’m meeting Melissa Morney’s PR agent shortly. Apparently, Melissa’s willing to give us chapter and verse about her divorce settlement. Money, houses, cars, yachts – the lot. Seems she’s furious about it, and she wants revenge on her ex-husband. Our readers are going to love that! I’m giving it the front page. So you can see that it’s not a good time for soul-searching right now, okay? Now just relax. Go soak yourself a hot bath or something. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘No, Mortimer!’ Lacey snapped in a rage. ‘Don’t bother calling me tomorrow. I’ve said all I’ve got to say. You’ve obviously got more important things to deal with right now. Our marriage, my feelings – they’re not exactly front page material are they? And that just about sums it all up, Mortimer. That’s precisely why I want out. And why I know this is the best thing I’ve done in years. For both of us!’
With that, Lacey slammed her phone shut, ripped her engagement ring off her finger and flung it on to the bed. She pulled the whole box of tissues into her lap and let the tears flow in great big gulps. Her heart felt close to breaking and guilt threatened to overwhelm her. But, in some strange way, she felt relieved. She was positive she’d done the right thing, that Mortimer would thank her in the end. Of course, Jasper would be furious with her and disappointed – yet again! But she would deal with that when the time came.
Right now, she had a party to go to. It would be the perfect place to distract her from her guilt, her miserable thoughts. Just for one evening, mingling with strangers who knew nothing of her past, she could forget who she was, what she’d done and just pretend to be the person she’d always wanted to be. Someone who could learn to forgive herself for all the pain she’d caused and maybe even start to enjoy her life.
The Du Preez family home was a magnificent Cape Dutch style mansion built in the style of Cecil Rhodes’ Cape Town property, Groote Schuur. It was situated on the edge of Nelspruit, the capital city of the Mpumalanga province. Nestling in an affluent suburb in the lush green hills, with views overlooking the lowveld botanical gardens, the Du Preez residence exuded wealth and taste.
Lacey peered out of the window as Tate drove his Mercedes through the electronic gates. The car purred gently along a gravel drive flanked by perfectly symmetrical hedges of starry blue plumbago. They drew to a halt at the foot of the stone steps that led up to two enormous, ornatelycarved teak doors. Tate got out of the car and grinned in recognition at the valet who had appeared from nowhere. He lobbed the car keys at him in an underhand throw, and the valet caught them with a theatrical flourish. Tate nodded his head to acknowledge the catch, then opened the passenger door for Lacey.
Her dress had ridden up a little on the journey and Tate’s blood pressure rose at the sight of those shapely legs in hot high-heels. He knew she’d scrub up well, but he couldn’t have begun to imagine just how well! She was stunning. Totally stunning. He noticed that she’d tied her hair up in some weird, complicated knot at the back. It looked amazing and he loved it – especially the little wispy bits and loose curls that dangled out of the clasp. It made her look stylish and glamorous. Even better, it exposed a smoot
h creamy neck that he desperately wanted to touch. To kiss.
But that wasn’t what tonight was all about, was it? It was all about showing Tilly and Lacey that he was just an ordinary guy who wasn’t looking to break hearts, break up romances – nor start one of his own, for that matter. So crazy thoughts about kissing Lacey’s neck had to be binned. Pronto!
Instead, he gallantly cupped Lacey’s elbow and guided her up the steps. Lacey could feel the subtle pressure of his fingers against her skin, and it caused goose bumps all up her arm. Great! Not exactly the cool, calm image she was hoping for tonight. She could only pray he hadn’t noticed. She was also hoping he hadn’t noticed her sharp intake of breath when she first saw him in his beautifully-cut black dinner jacket and crisp, white shirt. His lovely, unruly black hair was slicked back in a …. well, there was no other way to describe it other than a movie-star-on-the-redcarpet sort of style. He was utterly gorgeous and just looking at him made her knees buckle and her resolve weaken in - what did Mortimer call it? – a “silly girlish crush” kind of way. Well, Mortimer was right. She was being silly - and it probably was nothing more than a girlish crush - so the sooner she was gone from Matshana, from Tate Maddox, the better.
Luckily, she didn’t have to worry whether Tate had spotted her reactions. The minute they stepped through the doors, into the sumptuous wood-panelled hall, he was swamped by what must surely be half the female population of Nelspruit. Squeals of delight and dozens of pouting air kisses rained down on him. Even the male guests beamed at him and gave him a friendly thumbs-up or a wink. It was plain to see that Tate Maddox was something of a celebrity in these parts. And a very popular one at that!
Tate accepted the over-the-top greetings with a slightly embarrassed smile, but his face lit up with genuine warmth when Tilly’s pencil-thin form emerged from the melee in a glorious, skin-tight silver gown split up to the thigh.
A Wedding in Africa (The Africa Series) Page 11
