African Enchantment

by Andrea Barry

"I'm so glad. I was very worried."

  "You know," Derek said, "when she heard you were coming she told us she would be out of bed by the time you arrived. Today she was able to sit in a chair, and even walk a little."

  Patricia could tell Derek was devoted to her aunt.

  "Yes, sir," he went on. "I'm happy to say she's much better than the doctors predicted."

  What a good and kind person Derek seemed. So concerned about Aunt Pat's welfare! And he isn't bad looking, Patricia decided, even though he looked a bit thin.

  Undeniably English, he wore his straight blond hair parted in the middle. His thin, neatly trimmed moustache was somewhat darker than his hair. His eyes, hidden behind dark glasses that he now pushed over his forehead, were a very light blue, almost watery, and hardly shaded by blond eyelashes. They were kind and serious eyes, Patricia thought.

  "Excuse me a moment, please," he said, as an airport official stamped her passport and checked her visitor's visa. "I'll see to your luggage."

  Patricia watched him walk away in the direction of the baggage counter. She hoped she would be seeing more of him. He seemed a quiet type of man, so different from fiery Armand! She felt a need to change from the crazy pace and emotions Armand had brought into her life. It would be good to forget all about the intensity he had generated.

  Derek came back, a porter in tow, carrying Patricia's luggage. They walked out of the terminal, where a blue Jeep marked KEEKOROTI was parked. He paid the porter and opened the car door for Patricia. Closing it gently he came around to the driver's side and got in beside her.

  "This is the best kind of car for Kenya," he said, starting the motor with a loud spurt. "We have several of these at Keekoroti. They can be driven through the African bush whenever there's need to leave the main road."

  There was a matter-of-fact quality in the way he talked. He simply stated facts, even as he said, "I'll take you on a tour of Nairobi on the way to Keekoroti."

  Patricia noticed he was driving on the left side of the road.

  "It's the British way," he said. "Kenya was once a British possession," he continued his explanations, "in the year…"

  He soon lost Patricia's attention. Her mind wandered to Abidjan where Armand had taken her sightseeing, firing her imagination with enthusiastic descriptions, exciting her from the very moment she stepped on the Ivory Coast soil.

  "This is Keekoroti," she heard Derek say. She was just reliving Armand's first kiss that had sent her head and her heart reeling. She willed her attention back to the present. Derek had cut the motor and was opening the Jeep door for her. They were in front of a one-story whitewashed rambling house, ivy growing decoratively around square windows with shutters. Red-roofed, the house consisted of several buildings connected with walkways, shaded by tall, flowering Jacarandas. Not as imposing as the Vincent villa in Abidjan, it was nevertheless charming. Derek helped Patricia out of the Jeep, as a servant came out of the house to take her bags.

  "I certainly hope my aunt and I will like each other," Patricia said somewhat fearfully, as she walked into the house.

  "Oh, but of course! Come, I'll take you to Aunt Pat now." Derek took Patricia's arm and led her to a spacious veranda facing the garden.

  "My dear child, I am so happy to see you!" Patricia heard her aunt say even before she caught sight of her. Instantaneously she found herself embracing a lovely, frail-looking lady, whose hair still shone bright red amid strands of white.

  "Now, let me have a good look at you," Aunt Pat said.

  She was reclined on a chaise, a coverlet over her legs, dressed in a dark green silk gown daintily edged with lace. Bright green eyes, much like Patricia's, were set in a very pretty, oval face. Only the paleness of her cheeks betrayed any signs of illness.

  "You look just as I thought, Patricia! You're a very beautiful girl. I have looked forward to this moment for a long, long time, my dear niece." Her vivacious eyes became moist with emotion.

  She patted a cushion on a low chair next to her chaise, and Patricia sat down, unable to take her gaze away from the loving, kind face of her aunt. The two women fell into conversation quite naturally—as two relatives might. Patricia could hardly believe this was an aunt she had never met, she felt so at ease with her.

  The sky outside the large plate glass window had grown dark, when the older woman exclaimed, "My goodness, Patricia, do you realize we've talked all afternoon? I even forgot to ring for my usual high tea!"

  The rest of the evening went just as quickly. By the time Patricia was ready for bed, she felt as though she had known her aunt all of her life. It will be easy to spend three weeks of her vacation with Aunt Pat in these lovely surroundings, Patricia thought, surveying her room and unpacking her clothes.

  Not unlike the de Vincent villa in Abidjan, Aunt Pat's house was designed to accommodate guests. Distances being what they were, it was expected that one's friends would stay at least overnight when they came to visit.

  Patricia's suite consisted of a pleasantly furnished sitting room, complete with a kitchenette, and a large bedroom whose French doors opened onto a wooden porch. The porch extended the length of the house, fronting other guest rooms, and overlooking colorful gardens.

  Days flew by and Patricia fell happily into a relaxed way of life.

  "You must do just as you please," Aunt Pat had admonished her.

  Patricia spent a considerable amount of time with Derek. They drove around the scenic countryside and into nearby game parks, where Patricia was able to spot elephant, lion, gazelle-some of the many wild animals Kenya is known for.

  Derek was a pleasant and polite companion. In the evening he was always ready to take Patricia out to a club or a movie. But Patricia found herself strangely restless with Derek much of the time, yet she felt that it was her own fault. She had gone at such a fast and maddening pace when with Armand, she still had to unwind. Derek was a slow-going person, but, she added to herself, just the sort of man a girl could trust and be at ease with. He offered no challenges and no surprises.

  "Derek is part of the family here at Keekoroti," Aunt Pat explained one afternoon as the two women were having their customary high tea on the veranda. "I love him like a son. But if I were a young girl, interested in romance, I think I would find him dull."

  "Oh, no," Patricia countered, perhaps more to convince herself than her aunt. "Derek is quite interesting. I like him. He is… good company."

  "Chacun a son gout, Patricia," Aunt Pat commented without conviction. "He makes a good escort, I suppose, but to me, well… he lacks a certain joie de vivre. He is just the opposite of Armand de Vincent." Her eyes sparkled. "Now, there's a man who would never bore a woman!"

  "Armand?" Patricia's breath caught in her throat at the very mention of the man she had been trying so hard, but very unsuccessfully, to forget.

  "Why—why would Armand come to your mind, Aunt Pat?"

  If Aunt Pat was aware of Patricia's sudden nervousness, she made no acknowledgment of it.

  "I suppose it is because I spoke to Armand on the phone earlier today," she said matter-of-factly.

  "Really?" Patricia's heart began to race.

  "By the way, Patricia, what did you think of Armand? You told me you had a good time in Abidjan, but you didn't say very much about him."

  "I—I just don't know what to say, Aunt Pat, I'm not sure…"

  "Well, I'll tell you what I think." Aunt Pat spoke in a candid open way Patricia liked. "Armand is a man after my own heart. He is fascinating and strong. If I were thirty years younger, I would go after him myself."

  "I find him difficult," Patricia said slowly. "Being with him is like walking on quicksand: you never know when you're in danger."

  Aunt Pat nodded, making no comment.

  "I did have a lovely time with him… most of the time, but—it's just that he's so unpredictable."

  Patricia knew that her comments would go no further, and she could talk to Aunt Pat freely, without fear that she would be pressed for m
ore than she wished to divulge.

  "Derek, on the other hand," she continued, "is, well… I don't know how to put it… he is safer. One knows what lies ahead where Derek is concerned. He's even-tempered. I find him pleasant."

  "Oh, I didn't mean to imply that Derek couldn't make a girl happy, Patricia. It's just that knowing you, your keen mind, your temperament… well, Derek seems no match for you. But perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps you prefer someone who offers few challenges."

  "I honestly don't know, Aunt Pat… I just don't know."

  Patricia was pensive. Aunt Pat didn't disturb her mood.

  "Tell me, Aunt Pat," Patricia said after a while. "What did you talk to Armand about?"

  "It was mostly business. He's so capable and I appreciate his help! Armand is one of my very favorite people in the whole world. I always look forward to his visits. He'll be here shortly."

  Armand will be here shortly?! Here, in Keekoroti?! Patricia's heart jumped and she found it difficult to breathe.

  "You know, Patricia," her aunt continued evocatively, "Armand and his sister used to visit quite often when they were little. I'll never forget the time when a little cousin of theirs, who was also visiting here, fell off a horse. The horse started to gallop away but Armand ran right after him—he caught the horse, too…"

  Patricia had known all along that seeing Armand again was inevitable. The de Vincents and Aunt Pat were friends, but now that the reunion would soon become a reality, she was ill-prepared and tried to overcome the palpitations of her heart that the news of Armand coming brought on. If she really didn't want to see him, why these mixed emotions?

  "Will you please excuse me, Aunt Pat," she stammered. "I… I think I'll get ready for my evening with Derek. He's taking me to a party."

  It was best to forget Armand. He was dangerous. And the best way to put Armand out of her mind was to concentrate on someone else. She would be especially attentive to Derek this evening, Patricia decided. She had noticed in the past that he talked little about himself. Tonight she would change that. She would ask him about his family, his likes and dislikes, make him open his heart to her.

  But, as the evening progressed, Patricia found that the intimate exchange of ideas she had hoped for was impossible. By the time she was ready to go home, Derek had consumed a combination of whiskey and beer and was less talkative than ever. He drove home very carefully, aware that his reflexes were not very good.

  Patricia was glad when he took her to the door. She had had quite enough of his company.

  Suddenly he staggered, and his face became very pale, his forehead breaking out in sweat. Patricia quickly pushed the door open and led him to the couch, where he collapsed, his pipe rolling out of his pocket and onto the floor.

  Patricia took some ice cubes out of the small refrigerator in her kitchenette. Wrapping them in a plastic bag, she laid them on Derek's forehead.

  He came to quickly.

  "I guess I drank too much," he said apologetically.

  "You most certainly did." Patricia was far from pleased. "Are you all right now?" she inquired. Thank goodness his apartment was only a short walk away!

  "Yes, I'm fine," Derek said, getting up.

  He walked unsteadily toward the door. "Thanks a lot, Patricia."

  Patricia was relieved when he left. She had never seen Armand inebriated and was certain he would never lose control of himself in that manner.

  But I must forget Armand, she told herself. "I shall forget Armand," she stated as she got ready for bed.

  But strange dreams invaded her sleep. They were dreams of Armand. She could swear, when she woke, that she had heard his voice and his laugh in the night. At one point she imagined his tall figure standing right in the room beside her bed, watching her sleep.

  She remained under the spell of her dream when she went out to the kitchenette to brew herself her morning coffee. She plugged in the coffeemaker and walked out to the balcony. The sun was just rising, coloring the sky in pale pinks. Lost in thought, Patricia strolled the length of the porch, finding herself in front of another guest room, its doors open.

  She froze as she saw a male figure stir in the bed by the open door, only feet away from where she stood. Piercing blue eyes were upon her, gazing intently, made more violet than ever by the rising sun.

  "Good morning, Patrice," said Armand de Vincent, rubbing his eyes. "I wasn't expecting a visitor this early, but come right in. What beauty does the morning sun bring!"

  Patricia stood speechless and rooted to the ground. How could she have thought even for a minute that she could forget Armand! He was breathtaking.

  Slowly he threw off the sheet that was covering him. His strong, muscular chest was bare. Covered with curly black hair, it contrasted with the light-blue silk pajama bottoms he wore. He stretched leisurely, his muscles a graceful ripple, and sat on the edge of the bed. He blinked his eyes, never taking them off Patricia.

  "Am I still dreaming?" he said softly.

  "What are you doing here, Armand?" Patricia answered his question with one of her own, not knowing what else to say, though some inner part of her was terribly glad he was here-overjoyed to see him.

  "I came late last evening." He pointed in the direction of the landing strip. Through the foliage Patricia could see the wings of his jet.

  "Aunt Pat needed some help with a business matter." Yawning, he stretched again, not unlike a huge, wild tiger. He was now fully awake. "I was here in time for dinner, hoping to take you out. But you were gone."

  Patricia lowered her eyes. What a shame she had gone out with Derek! It had been the kind of evening she could have done without.

  Why hadn't she asked Aunt Pat exactly when Armand would arrive? She would have liked to watch him land, greet him when he came out of the plane. She had been insane to think, even for a moment, that she didn't want to see him again!

  "When we finished dinner, we worked on business matters for a couple of hours," Armand was saying, "and then I was so tired, I simply went to bed. You weren't back yet," he said pointedly.

  "Oh…" was all that Patricia could manage to say.

  She was fascinated by the way he looked. Almost naked, he was more handsome than ever. Aunt Pat had been so right when she said Armand was fascinating. It was true Patricia found him confusing at times, but she never found him boring. And he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

  Now that she had been away from Armand, Patricia knew she appreciated him more. Especially since she had been in the company of Derek—who in spite of her efforts to like him, bored her.

  Armand ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

  "Early morning becomes you, Patrice," he said. "As does sunset, and moonlight and full daylight too."

  It was true they had shared just about every hour of the day.

  Armand's gaze held an unnerving frankness. His eyes traveled slowly from her own to her nose, down to her mouth. They did not stop there, but continued down her slim neck to her shapely breasts. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, visible through the diaphanous pink fabric of her gown.

  "I—I think I'd better go back to my room," she stammered, experiencing the familiar shivers his nearness always caused her.

  The fragrance of freshly brewing coffee wafted in from the open doors of her suite, down the porch.

  Armand's magnetic eyes were more mischievous than ever in the light of the new sun.

  "Won't you invite me for a cup of coffee?" he said.

  Could this be a ruse? Was he asking for an invitation to more than his words implied?

  "Yes, of course," Patricia heard herself say without the slightest hesitation.

  "Are you cold?" he inquired, seeing her shiver. Reaching for his pajama top, he draped it over her shoulders. He then put on a white robe and led Patricia to her suite.

  They had to walk through her bedroom. Patricia braced herself against any sudden movement Armand might make in the direction of her unmade bed. But he made no such gesture, le
ading her directly to the sitting room.

  He lowered himself onto the settee watching Patricia pour the coffee into a ceramic coffee pot. She took two cups and saucers out of the small cupboard and placing them on a tray, she brought them to the low coffee table. She was acutely aware of the heady fragrance Armand's body exuded, as she sat down next to him.

  "I've missed you, Patrice," Armand said simply, covering her hand with his, sending warmth into the very depths of her being. "Did you miss me a bit also, perhaps?"

  Patricia didn't wish to pretend any longer.

  "Yes, I've missed you, Armand."

  He placed his fingers under her chin, raising it, so that he faced her squarely, as if to scrutinize every inch of her face.

  "You look radiant, Patrice," he murmured. "Have you been having a nice time with your aunt?"

  "Oh, yes, she's a wonderful person," Patricia said with enthusiasm, realizing as she watched Armand's lips, how much she longed for his kisses.

  He licked his upper lip with a flicker of his tongue.

  "I agree," he smiled. "My sister and I never see enough of Aunt Pat—she is the kind of friend one doesn't tire of. What of the countryside, Patrice? Have you spent any time in the wildlife sanctuaries?"

  "Yes," she said, controlling a sudden desire to touch his bare chest with her hands and even her lips. "Derek has taken me to some of the wild game parks near Nairobi."

  "Oh, Derek, of course—Aunt Pat's protégé." Patricia felt the grip of his hand tightening as his eyes scrutinized her under lowered lids.

  "Derek is part of the family," he said slowly. "I must tell you I consider him a very good friend of mine."

  Why is he making so much out of Derek? Is he, perhaps, jealous? Patricia tried to relax her fingers, tightly held.

  "And you, Patrice, what are your feelings about Derek?"

  "What do you mean by 'feelings,' Armand?"

  "Oh, you know what I mean." His voice bore a trace of impatience. "Do you like Derek?"

  "Yes, of course, you just said yourself he was a nice person. Why shouldn't I like him?"

  "I'll be more to the point—do you like him as a man?"

  "Oh, Armand—are you asking if I'm interested in him on a personal level?"