`That sounds funny coming from someone who always has to be in command of every situation,' Samantha remarked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice as the car pulled away from the curb, heading towards the centre of the city. They were obviously taking the longest route to the airport, round the Mayor's Garden, down towards South End and past King's Beach.
`You will discover, Samantha, that I'm human with human feelings like everyone else,' he informed her mildly as they left the city traffic behind. 'No one is perfect.'
He spoke as if had every intention of continuing their relationship, but she would have to disillusion him, and at once, she decided, scraping together her courage.
`Brett, there's something I want to make quite clear to you,' she began, turning in her seat to face him. 'I don't want to see you again after today.'
She had expected mockery or heavy sarcasm, but she
found herself unable to argue with his calm but authoritative reply.
`Do you mind if we discontinue this discussion until we're alone?'
Samantha fell silent, not paying much attention to their surroundings as she became aware instead of his hand lying on the seat between them so close to her own. It was a hand with well-kept fingernails and fine black hair on the back. It indicated strength and the capability to crush, or to spark off emotions she preferred not to dwell on.
A car shot across the red light at the robot on the beach front and Brett's driver swerved violently, narrowly avoiding a collision with a stationary car while at the same time trying to avoid the car that continued on its way without stopping. The suddenness of it all flung Samantha against Brett and his arms closed about her instantly.
'Are you all right?'
'Yes—yes, I think so,' she stammered, but the pressure of his arms did not diminish as she trembled with shock.
'That damn fool, whoever he is, could have caused a nasty accident,' he exclaimed angrily, glancing at his chauffeur. 'Joseph, did you get the number of that car?'
'No, sir. I'm sorry, sir.'
'He ought to be taken off the road permanently,' Brett continued harshly, but left the subject there.
Samantha extricated herself carefully from his arms and straightened, but the whole unfortunate episode had unnerved her so severely that violent tremors shook through her body. She had seen that car seconds before it had disappeared down Humewood Road and it had been Clive's—or one very like his. But Clive was
still in Cape Town, wasn't he? Could he have returned on an earlier flight without telling her? But why? She drew a shuddering breath and admonished herself severely for the doubts she was entertaining. It was all Brett's fault, she decided angrily. If he had not persisted with his nasty insinuations she would never have considered the possibility that that car had been driven by Clive. Clive was still in Cape Town, she told herself firmly, and he would be arriving with the twelve o'clock flight as he had said he would.
When they finally reached the airport, Brett helped her alight from the car and kept his hand on her arm as they entered the building. 'There's still plenty of time. We can order a strong pot of tea in the restaurant.'
Without waiting for a reply, he ushered her in that direction. He found a table close to the window and placed their order as the waitress appeared, then an uneasy silence lingered between them until their tea was eventually served.
Samantha poured and they drank in silence for a moment, the strongly brewed tea steadying her nerves and bringing the colour back to her cheeks.
'Are you looking forward to seeing Clive again?' Brett asked abruptly, taking a cigarette from his cigarette case and lighting it carefully.
'Very much.'
'A pity.'
Samantha placed her cup in the saucer with a clatter. 'If you're going to start being unpleasant—'
'Did you know your eyes become a deep violet blue when you're angry or emotionally disturbed?' He leaned closer to observe her and there was devilment in his eyes. 'It's most extraordinary.'
Taken aback, Samantha hovered between anger and
embarrassment. 'You're the most disconcerting man I've ever met ! '
'Do you find the truth disconcerting?'
'When it's aimed at me personally, yes.'
'Doesn't Clive ever tell you how beautiful you are? That you have hair like spun gold, truly remarkable eyes, a small perfectly chiselled nose, and the most delightful lips that were made to be kissed?'
Her cheeks were flaming by the time he had concluded his summary and she hastily lowered her glance to avoid the mockery in his eyes.
'Must you say these things?' she managed finally.
'I find your blushes intriguing and your innocence captivating,' Brett persisted, his glance no longer mocking but completely unfathomable. 'Surely you're not so completely unaware of your alluring appearance?'
Samantha bit her lip nervously, not sure just how to take him in this frame of mind. 'I don't want to appear alluring.'
Brett laughed derisively. 'Don't say that as though it were some terrible sin! If Adam hadn't found Eve alluring, where would this human race be today?'
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth but it disappeared swiftly when she noticed the sudden sternness of his expression. His moods altered swiftly, she had noticed. One minute he would shower her with attention, however mocking, and the next he would appear almost bored with the trend of the conversation. It was most confusing, she decided, pushing her empty cup aside and glancing through the window at the Boeing taxiing on to the runway.
'Have you ever flown before?' he asked suddenly, and she felt a nervous flutter at the base of her throat.
'No.'
'Would you like to?'
Samantha fingered the tablecloth absently. 'When the opportunity presents itself, yes.'
'I have a small aircraft out there. I could give you a taste of flying and have you back here in time to meet Wilmot.' His glance was persuasive. 'Shall we go?'
`I don't know. I—'
`You're not frightened, are you?' Brett mocked her, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray.
`No !' she lied bravely, but she was determined that he should not be aware of the quaking feeling which had gripped her insides.
'Let's go, then.'
Samantha barely had time to snatch up her hand- bag as he settled the account and ushered her through the building and out on to the tarmac. The small aircraft turned out to be a sleek four-seater, painted white and trimmed with red. Brett climbed aboard ahead of her and then turned.
`Give me your hand,' he instructed and, as she did so, she was thankful that she had chosen to wear her slacks instead of the narrow skirt she had originally selected.
Her hands fumbled with the seat belt and Brett was forced to lean across from behind the controls to secure the fastener for her.
`Ready?' he questioned impatiently.
`Y-yes,' she managed, swallowing convulsively as her throat tightened.
`Right, here we go.'
He placed the earphones on his head as the engine sprang to life and Samantha could feel the tremendous vibration beneath her while he requested permission to take off. This was followed by an aeronautical discussion she was unable to understand and then, suddenly, they were moving forward, taxiing out on to the appro-
HANDFUL OF STARDUST
priate runway. It seemed an endless, timeless journey before Brett pulled out the throttle and the engine began to speed up. They moved forward now, gathering speed, and Samantha gripped her seat as the earth suddenly fell away beneath them.
She closed her eyes tightly as they gained height, wishing at that moment that she had been less brave when he had suggested this excursion.
'You can open your eyes now,' he shouted above the roar of the engine, and she did so only to meet his mocking glance. He was fully aware of her nervousness and certainly enjoying her discomfort. 'Relax, Samantha, and enjoy it. I don't intend to frighten you with aerobatic stunts.'
'I wouldn't put
that past you,' she countered, gritting her teeth.
'Don't tempt me, my dear.'
It had been a warning and Samantha knew better than to pursue the subject. She glanced tentatively through the window to see the teeming city beneath them, the Campanile, standing almost at the entrance to the busy harbour as a memorial to the o British settlers, and the tall buildings along Main Street which now looked peculiarly small from that height. Then, as they left everything of structural interest behind them, she gradually began to relax and enjoy the surrounding countryside below. Her fear overcome, it was a fantastic experience being able to survey everything from that height. It was a clear, warm day and the visibility stretched for seemingly endless kilometres, affording her the breath-taking view of the valleys and rivers winding their way among the hills, flowing past picturesque little villages nestling on their banks. This was the Sundays River Valley—citrus country.
'If you look directly ahead of us you'll see the Addo.
Elephant Park,' Brett interrupted her thoughts, pointing at the dense bush below.
'Have we come this far in so short a time?'
'Yes. Does it surprise you?'
'It does, but ...' Samantha bit her lip and glanced nervously at her wristwatch, 'shouldn't we be returning?'
'Why the hurry, Samantha?' he mocked, meeting her anxious eyes. 'I thought you were enjoying yourself?'
'I am, but will you have enough fuel to get us back to Port Elizabeth?'
Brett raised a satirical eyebrow. 'Are you doubting my capabilities as a pilot?'
'No,' she replied with nervous haste. 'No, of course not.'
'You're perfectly safe with me,' he announced drily, returning his attention to the numerous dials in front of him.
Samantha remained silent for a considerable length of time, but she could no longer restrain herself when they flew over the Suurberg Mountains with Lake Mentz clearly in the distance.
'Brett, it's almost eleven-thirty,' she protested weakly. 'We must turn back now or I shan't be in time to meet Clive.'
'I'm afraid Clive will have to do without his welcoming committee,' he informed her smoothly. °There's something I want to show you.'
Samantha felt a chill of fear that made her skin crawl as she stared at him aghast. 'Brett, you can't do this! Please turn back!'
`I'm sorry, Samantha,' he replied without a trace of regret as he glanced at the dials. 'I have just enough fuel to get us safely to our destination.'
'And where, may I ask, is that?' she demanded with heavy sarcasm.
Brett glanced at her briefly, but his expression conveyed nothing. 'You'll see for yourself in less than fifteen minutes.'
Samantha clenched her hands in her lap, fighting against the uncontrollable anger that raged through her. 'I suppose you think you've been very clever
'Yes, I think so.'
Realisation dawned with a swiftness that took her breath away. 'You deliberately planned this trip so I wouldn't be at the airport to meet Clive. Didn't you?'
His smile was infuriating. 'That was a very clever piece of deduction, if I may say so.'
She sagged helplessly against the firm backrest. 'I don't know what you hope to gain by this, but I can tell you now that, whatever it is, you won't succeed.'
'We shall see, Samantha,' he replied abruptly, his lips tightening and the square chin jutting out stubbornly. 'Sit tight, I'm going in to land.'
Samantha closed her eyes hastily as the tarmac rose to meet them. There was a bump as the wheels touched down and the revving of the engine gradually ceased its deafening roar, and she opened her eyes with a feeling of relief to discover that they were taxiing towards a hanger beside which a Land-Rover was parked. The occupant of the open Land-Rover waved excitedly and Brett returned the gesture, a smile of pleasure lighting up his stern features that made him look curiously younger.
'That's Lucas,' he told her, cutting the engine and undoing his seat belt. 'He looks after the vehicles as well as being a general all-rounder.'
He helped her down off the aircraft before turning to the coloured man who was approaching them with
a welcoming smile on his weather beaten face. He was dressed simply in khaki drill trousers and shirt, with an old slouch hat pulled down over his eyes to guard them against the glaring sunlight. Brett shook hands with him and then drew Samantha to his side. 'Lucas, this is Miss Samantha Little.'
'Glad to know you, Miss Samantha,' Lucas said, touching his hat respectfully before turning again to Brett. 'The Madam said I was to bring the Master straight to the house. No nonsense.'
Brett nodded soberly. 'I bet dear old Aunt Emma has worked herself up into a stew about the message I sent her this morning.'
'Stew is the right word, Master Brett,' Lucas chuckled as they climbed into the Land-Rover.
All this, Samantha supposed, had something to do with her unexpected arrival. It was obvious that Aunt Emma, whoever she might be, was not at all thrilled at the prospect of having an unwanted guest thrust upon her, for however brief a period. She glanced at her watch, sighing inwardly. It was past midday and Clive would already have arrived in Port Elizabeth, she realised, but she would just have to bear this slight delay caused by Brett and look forward instead to seeing Clive that evening.
Having made this decision, she glanced about her with interest for the first time. This was the Karoo, she realised, taking in the scrub-covered country, but she had no idea exactly where they were. The Land-Rover bumped unexpectedly over an uneven piece of ground and Samantha grabbed at the back of Brett's seat to steady herself.
'Sorry about this,' he said tersely, turning in his seat. 'The recent rains have played havoc with the road. We're almost there.'
HANDFUL OF STARDUST
Up ahead among the trees she caught sight of a house, but her view was partially hampered by Brett's dark head and broad shoulders directly in front of her. They passed through a white-painted stone arch with the name, Carrington's Post, engraved impressively on it in large black letters. So this was one of his farms, she thought as they drove through an avenue of poplar trees, but why on earth should he have brought her here?
They emerged from the welcoming shadow of the trees and Samantha drew her breath in sharply as the homestead loomed up ahead. It was large and impressive with a wide stoep on the north side of the house, where gravel paths wound their way through an ornamental garden that gave her the curious impression of an oasis in the semi-desert. All this she noticed in one sweeping, startled glance as the Land-Rover crunched to a halt at the foot of the stone steps leading up to what was obviously the front door. This in itself was a work of art and craftsmanship. Circular steps led up to the heavy oak door above which a circular roof, trimmed with wrought-iron, rested on carved stone pillars. Carved into the stone just above the door were two lions facing each other, their tails lashing the air, their fangs bared and their claws unsheathed to do battle.
Was this symbolic of the Carrington family? Samantha wondered, experiencing a sudden attack of nerves as she stood there beside Brett, trembling inwardly as his strong fingers closed about her arm. Lucas, knowing that he was no longer required, drove off in the Land-Rover as they mounted the steps.
'Welcome to my home, Samantha.'
'Your ... home?' she managed breathlessly, glancing up at him in surprise. The wind had whipped through
his hair in the open Land-Rover and it fell heavily across his forehead. It made him look different somehow; less austere, but she was not deceived.
'This is my home when I'm not in the city,' he informed her in clipped tones. 'It has housed four generations of Carringtons, including myself, and it will also be the home of my children one day.'
His children! She had, never thought to hear him speak of his children. Marriage and children were something one found difficult to associate with Brett Carrington, the confirmed bachelor.
The heavy oak door opened without a sound and a woman stood there, tall and erect in a black frock that
hung well below her knees. Her grey hair was combed back from her face and rolled into a neat bun in the nape of her neck, while the only thing that was alive in her gaunt, marble-like features was the burning disapproval in her eyes.
'Aunt Emma!' Brett exclaimed, striding forward to plant a kiss on her thin cheek. He turned then and beckoned to Samantha. 'Let me introduce you. This is Samantha Little. Samantha ... my Aunt Emma Bryce, the only woman who has the audacity to imagine that I'll jump when she cracks the whip.'
His teasing remark did not lessen her disapproval as she acknowledged Samantha's timid greeting in a clear, remarkably pleasant voice. 'If you come this way I'll show you to your room, Miss Little. I'm sure you would like to freshen up before lunch.' 'Thank you,' Samantha murmured, glancing swiftly at Brett as she brushed passed him, but his expression remained inscrutable.
The silence was strained as she followed Emma Bryce into the magnificent hallway with its rosewood furniture and chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling,
their steps making no sound on the carpeted staircase with its carved wooden balustrade. It was cool inside and Samantha shivered slightly as she wondered whether this woman was always so severe-looking, or whether it was as a result of the inconvenience caused by an unexpected guest, for Emma Bryce had certainly not gone out of her way to make her feel at all welcome.
She opened a door to one of the rooms on the upper floor and stood aside for Samantha to enter. The room was fully carpeted with an old-fashioned brass bed dominating the room. Samantha fingered the lace bedspread and then turned self-consciously towards the older woman.
'It's very beautiful,' she remarked, gesturing towards the bedspread. 'Did you make it, Mrs Bryce?'
`No. Brett's mother made it shortly before her death,' she replied abruptly, and then gestured towards a door leading off the room. 'The bathroom is through there. I'm sure you'll find everything you may need.'
'It's very kind of you to allow me the use of this room for the hour or so that I shall be here,' Samantha said politely.
Emma Bryce stared at her curiously, almost as if she were about to say something of importance, then she apparently changed her mind and reassumed her grim expression.
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