Merger By Matrimony

by Cathy Williams

  Realising that he was staring at her, he frowned assertively and said in a clipped voice, ‘Right. The house. We’ll start with the top and work our way down.’

  Destiny vaguely wondered whether two days was going to be enough to complete this daunting task, but she obediently followed him towards the impressive staircase that coiled upwards like a snake. Halfway up, Stephanie came bouncing towards them, towel in hand and a broad smile on her face.

  ‘Off to begin the tour?’ she said, pretending to yawn. ‘Sitting around the pool would be much more fun,’ she said to them.

  ‘Maybe later,’ Destiny said, in the sort of placatory voice she used with her children on the compound whenever they asked for something that was patently out of the question. It was the age-old delaying tactic of saying in a minute, when a child asked for another glass of juice. And as with a child, it worked, because Stephanie shrugged and grinned and disappeared with a cheerful, Well, see you both later then over her shoulder.

  What on earth did Callum see in Stephanie? The enigma was enough to bring home to her just how lacking in experience she was. Oh, very experienced when it came to using her brains, and very mature in tackling the day-to-day rigours of living in a jungle, but as green as God’s grass when it came to the emotional side of her life.

  For goodness’s sake, she was still a virgin! She and Henri had indulged in some light-hearted fondling, but she, for one, had never felt any urge to carry the fondling through to its natural conclusion. Maybe he had. Or maybe, she thought, he, like Callum, was really only interested in women who acted like women and not women who were as independent as they were themselves. It was a depressing conclusion. She would never be harbouring these thoughts, she knew, if she hadn’t come to this country, and she glared resentfully at the broad, masculine figure ascending the staircase ahead of her because, like it or not, he was the source of her confusion.

  Right now, he was giving her a potted history of the house while she continued to scowl safely from behind. Only when they were at the top of the house did she manoeuvre her features into some semblance of politeness, even though she was too aware of him to find the task easy.

  ‘I hope,’ he said, turning to her, hands thrust into his pockets, head slightly cocked to one side, ‘that I’m not giving you a load of information that you’re already aware of.’

  ‘How on earth would I know anything about the history of British architecture?’ Destiny snapped edgily.

  ‘You seem to know just about everything else. You speak more languages that any woman I’ve ever met; you practise medicine; you teach; you single-handedly fight off marauding tigers and crocodiles that have wandered from your river in search of some human dinner.’

  ‘It’s not my fault you don’t meet the right women,’ she retorted sarcastically, instantly regretting her outburst, which wasn’t fair because it stemmed from her own sudden lack of self-confidence in her femininity.

  ‘What are you trying to say? That Stephanie is the wrong woman for me?’

  ‘No,’ she mumbled, wishing, yet again, that she had controlled her feelings instead of letting him push her into another uncharacteristic response. ‘It’s very interesting finding out about the house. It’s just that knowing about baroque developments in architecture during the Stuart Period isn’t exactly handy when you’re living in the wilds of Panama. Unless,’ she added with a weak stab of humour, ‘I intend puzzling those marauding crocodiles into submission.’

  He smiled at her, very, very slowly, and she felt as though she had been touched because his smile was so like a physical caress. Her breathing thickened and she looked away quickly. Stephanie was sunbathing downstairs, and wanting to touch this man in front of her was so shocking and so inappropriate that it took her breath away.

  For the next couple of hours she meekly followed him from room to room and tried to pretend that he was no more than a tour guide. It helped if she imagined him as a short, fat, bald tour guide.

  She didn’t glance once at him, which wasn’t difficult because there was enough to see in the myriad rooms. From one of them she looked out, and down below she could see the diminutive figure of her stepcousin languidly lying on a poolside deckchair, eyes closed and arms resting over the sides of the chair.

  Callum came to stand next to her and immediately the hairs on her arms stood on end.

  ‘What sort of woman do you think would be right for me, then?’ he murmured, without looking at her.

  During his brisk, factual tour, she had managed to keep everything nicely under control, but now she felt every nerve and pulse in her body stirring and making her feel hot and uncomfortable.

  ‘I think Stephanie’s a lovely person.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  ‘You’re engaged to my stepcousin. Of course she’s the right woman for you.’ She didn’t dare look at him, but she could feel that he had turned to her and was looking at her, and she folded her arms. Her fingernails pressed into her skin.

  ‘You don’t believe that. You know you don’t.’

  ‘Why are you asking me these questions?’ she flung at him, spinning to face him. ‘Why does it matter what I think?’

  ‘I’m interested, that’s all. I’m not a fool. I’ve noticed the way you look at us when we’re in the same room, seen the expression on your face—as though you’re mystified at what I see in her.’

  Oh, good Lord. Had she been that transparent?

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said softly, so softly that she wanted to groan. Her body was responding to his nearness, to the low, velvety tone of his voice, to the depths of his eyes resting on her, the way it would have responded if she was standing next to an open fire. An open fire that was slowly but steadily melting her.

  The wetness she felt between her legs was such an unknown experience that at first she wasn’t even aware of it and, when she was, she was horrified.

  This was lust. It bore no resemblance whatsoever to the affection and the tenderness and the light-hearted, detached curiosity she had felt when Henri had occasionally kissed her on the mouth, after a bit of alcohol and under the embrace of a hot starry night. This was like being hit by a sledgehammer.

  ‘Who knows? Do you think I might need a more challenging type of woman?’

  ‘I don’t know what you need,’ she squeaked.

  ‘True. Really, how do any of us know what we need unless we try it out first? Test the water, so to speak?’ Then he did something so unexpected and so shocking that for a few seconds her body froze. He touched her. Just with one finger, on her mouth, tracing it, but the touch was so erotic that the ache between her legs shot through the rest of her body like a fast-moving virus. Her breasts actually seemed to hurt and she could feel the pupils in her eyes dilate.

  ‘No!’ She pulled back, shaking, and spun round on her heels, staring down at her feet and breathing heavily, while he lounged against the window sill. ‘Please,’ she whispered, still staring at her feet, ‘let’s just see the rest of the house. Please.’

  Callum didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t. He was too busy trying to get his vocal cords into gear. Eventually, more in an attempt to repress the powerful and bloody primal urge he had felt for her than anything else, he said, ‘Sure. And if I manage to make it boring enough, who knows? You might just find it useful in boring unwanted animals to death.’

  You could never be boring, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. He had touched her mouth with his finger and he now felt sorry for her because he must be able to see how inordinately she’d responded. Like the gauche, unsophisticated primitive that she was. He felt sorry for her and was now trying to put her out of her misery by restoring some light-hearted humour between them. For that she felt both grateful and mortified at the same time.

  But things got easier, and after another hour exploring each room, discussing who’d removed what in accordance to the legacy Abe had left, the brief moment of madness, if not forgotten, had been put to sleep. Like a t
iger injected with a temporary sedative. She had no doubt that, when she was alone again, the moment would come rushing out at her, like a bat out of hell.

  They only managed to cover part of the house, which, if anything, was bigger than it had appeared from the outside, before Callum suggested lunch, and they joined a lazy and slightly browner Stephanie by the pool.

  More salad. Destiny looked at her plate, which had been brought out by Deirdre, Harold’s other half, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. At least this time round there was plenty of it, but several helpings went virtually nowhere to filling the gap in her stomach.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Callum confided, as they left Stephanie once more by the pool and resumed their tour of the house, ‘dinner will be more substantial. It’s an old English custom to serve salads on hot summer days.’

  ‘Don’t know why,’ Destiny said. ‘You need a lot of energy in hot weather, especially at lunchtime, and the last thing you get from a bundle of lettuce leaves is an injection of energy.’

  An injection of apathy, more like it, she thought when they had finally completed the rounds of the house. In the end they had had to quicken their pace, if the gardens were to be done the following day, but there was lots she wanted to revisit.

  At six o’clock, when they found themselves once again at the pool, Stephanie was finally through with her day’s exertions.

  ‘You look great,’ Destiny said warmly. ‘Very brown.’

  ‘Do I?’ She contorted her slender body in an attempt to scrutinise as much of it as she could. ‘What do you think, Callum?’

  ‘Mmm.’ He wasn’t looking at her, even though his thoughts were most definitely on her. On her and on the chat they would have to have before the evening was over. He hoped to God that she wouldn’t break down on him but, if she did, then whose fault was it? His. His, because he should have ended this relationship a long time ago and not relied on fondness to see them through. He could have kicked himself.

  ‘I think that means yes,’ Destiny offered lightly.

  ‘And how would you know what I mean?’ His voice was cold. They both turned to him with varying expressions of surprise and discomfiture, but it was Stephanie who, amazingly, exploded.

  ‘Why do you have to be so rude? Why can’t you just relax a little and stop acting as though everyone has to do as you say? You…you…you…’ Her brief outburst of valiance tapered off while Destiny groaned inwardly and wondered miserably whether her casual words of advice had been taken to heart. She was now a spectator at a scene in which two opponents faced one another, one with an expression of shock but defiance, the other with grim determination.

  ‘I think, Destiny,’ Callum said, looking at his fiancée, ‘that it’s time you relaxed before dinner. Deirdre is in the kitchen. She’ll show you up to your room.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN Destiny emerged two hours later, she found Stephanie by herself in the kitchen. The table was set, but for two and Stephanie was busily fussing around the stove with a pair of oven gloves on her hands. She’d pulled her hair back into a high ponytail and was wearing a pair of culottes and a silk blouse.

  ‘Callum’s gone,’ she said, answering the question that hadn’t yet been asked.

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Back to London. And I told Harold and Deirdre that there was no need for them to stay and see about dinner for the two of us.’

  ‘So you cooked all of this yourself?’ She couldn’t help it, but there was incredulity in her voice because the smells emanating from the various dishes were mouth-watering and she had somehow never imagined her stepcousin to be much of a hand when it came to culinary skills.

  ‘Lord, no.’ Stephanie looked at her and grinned. ‘Are you crazy? Toast and scrambled egg are about the only two things I can manage. No, Deirdre cooked all this up herself and gave me very strict instructions on how long I was supposed to heat everything for. She seemed to think that I would wreck her meal.’

  ‘And you haven’t.’

  ‘Well, the soufflé is in the bin, actually. Forgot it in the oven, and by the time I remembered it was a sad, deflated black mass.’ She brought various dishes to the table, filled their glasses with wine and sat down with a little sigh. ‘There’s enough food to feed an army here. Hope you’re hungry because I’ve lost my appetite.’

  ‘There was no need for you to rise to my defence back then, Stephanie,’ Destiny said awkwardly. ‘I’m very sorry if…you know… I mean, I wouldn’t like to think that you got yourself into trouble because of me…’ She looked at the little figure, ridiculously fragile without her usual make-up and with her hair pulled back, toying with the birdlike proportions of food on her plate.

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault.’ Stephanie picked up a few vegetables on her fork and proceeded to survey them without much interest. Then she rested her fork on her plate and gulped back some of her wine instead. ‘We really should have called it a day a long time ago, but things have a habit of drifting on. On and on and on. We never really argued, but then we never really spoke either. We’ve just been trundling along for the past few months. No excitement, no magic—just two people who got on reasonably well and saw no reason to have any kind of confrontation.’

  Until I came along, was the thought that guiltily occurred to Destiny as she tucked into her food. The spread on the table more than compensated for the lunchtime offering of leaves and cold meats, and it was traditional food. Her meals out thus far, in restaurants, had been small, prettily presented plates of various things drizzled with strange juices and accompanied by delicate titbits of vegetables arranged in appetising but unsatisfactory designs. This was hearty food and manna to a ravenous appetite.

  ‘So it’s all over?’

  ‘I gave him back his ring and, to be honest, I was pretty relieved. It was all very civilised, actually. More of a discussion than any kind of argument. Callum hates scenes. You could say that we parted the best of friends.’

  ‘Well, that’s something at least.’

  ‘I mean, of course I’ll miss him. We kind of got accustomed to one another. But that’s not enough, is it? Just liking someone and being kind of accustomed to them? What kind of marriage would that have been? Without any spark at all?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Destiny thought about Henri—not that marriage had ever been on the agenda, although Henri had jokingly suggested it a couple of times.

  ‘I would have ended up being married to someone who could have been my brother!’ Some of the liveliness resurfaced and Stephanie managed to eat a couple of mouthfuls of food before closing her knife and fork. ‘I realised that what I wanted was thunder and lightning and fireworks, not just feeling good because I was out with someone most women would give their eye teeth to be seen with. Anyway, I also realised that Callum’s always treated me like a child. I think he thought that if he spoke to me in more than two-syllable sentences, I might not understand what he was saying!’

  ‘And did you tell him all of this?’

  ‘What would have been the point? It’s not like I felt any urge to fight to hang on. I was relieved that we were going to be parting company. Sad but relieved.’ She finished her glass of wine and refilled it. ‘So now here I am, back on the market, in search of true love.’ She tried to look dramatic and mournful but the effect was ruined by tell tale giggles.

  ‘You’ll find a partner in less time than it would take me to kill a snake,’ Destiny told her, finally closing her knife and fork with a warm, replete feeling in her stomach. ‘Think about me and my problems of finding true love! Out in the middle of nowhere! I shall end up a grey, sad little soul—or should I say big soul?—devoting my life to other people while no one devotes their life to me.’

  ‘You have Henri.’

  ‘You remembered his name?’

  ‘I have a very retentive memory when it comes to certain things.’

  ‘Henri…’ Destiny stood up and began clearing the table while Stephanie began washing up. �
�Henri is… Well, more of a friend…’

  ‘With or without the spark?’

  ‘We get along so well…’

  ‘You’re avoiding the question.’

  ‘He’s a lovely person. Kind, thoughtful but not boring or fuddy-duddy.’

  ‘Have you slept with him?’

  ‘Stephanie!’ She was frankly shocked by the question. Confidences of that nature belonged to a language she had never spoken.

  ‘Well, have you?’ Stephanie persisted.

  ‘I…well… You have to understand…’

  ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘Well, no…’ Destiny’s face was bright red and she made a big production of wiping the kitchen table to try and hid the fact.

  ‘And have you been tempted to?’

  ‘It’s awfully difficult on a compound, Steph. It’s very comfortable, and we all have our own living quarters, but still…’

  ‘Enough said. I’m beginning to get the message!’ And they looked at one another with an instant of perfect comprehension. As if by unspoken but mutual consent, they spent the remainder of the evening chatting about everything under the sun apart from Henri and Callum, and when at ten-thirty Stephanie finally uncurled herself from her chair to head to bed, Destiny thought with a pang that she would miss her stepcousin. Miss the frivolity and gossip and giggling that she never got on the compound. She would miss someone taking an interest in what she wore and how she did her hair and offering advice on colour schemes. She would miss the girlish chat about men and their ways and the cosy, secret bond that seemed to exist between women which was a whole great world away from the one in which she had spent most of her life. For the first time she thought of her compound in Panama with a certain amount of detachment, and realised that she had needs that could never really be fulfilled there.

  ‘I’ll stay down here for a while longer,’ Destiny said, walking with her stepcousin to the door, and was surprised when she received a hug and a broad smile.