'There's nothing cold-blooded and calculated about making love, Joceline.'
The desire to laugh was propelled by a rising wave of hysteria, and she clenched her hands at her sides until her nails bit painfully into her palms with the effort to control herself. 'We will be having sex for the sake of reproduction,' she corrected him coldly. 'That isn't cold-blooded and calculated, then I'd like to know what is.'
Rafe did not contradict her.
Later, when Jo was preparing for bed, she wondered if a denial, however false, would not have been preferable to that frightening silence which had followed her statement. She fastened the belt of her white towelling robe about her waist and seated herself on the padded stool in front of the dressing-table. Her insides were knotted with anxiety as she removed the pins from her hair and shook it free to fall in lustrous waves to her shoulders. She was reaching for her brush when the sound of approaching footsteps halted the action, and her heart took a frightened, agonising leap into her throat. The nightmare was about to begin. It was a nightmare of her own choice, and there was no way that she could escape it.
She picked up" her brush with a hand that shook visibly and she was brushing her hair with a vigour born of desperation when Rafe finally entered the bedroom and closed the door firmly behind him. Jo did not look at him. She did not have to. She was aware of him with every quivering nerve in her body when he took off his jacket and came up behind her. His masculine image joined hers in the mirror and, without speaking, he took the brush from her seemingly nerveless fingers and pulled it through her hair.
He had performed this task for her many times during those six months they had been married, but in this instance the familiarity of his actions did not ease that terrible tension inside her. He eventually discarded the brush and combed his fingers through her hair as if he loved the feel of its silky texture. That, too, was a familiar experience, and so was that pleasant tingling sensation against her scalp.
'Your hair is shorter than it used to be, but it's still just as beautiful.'
Jo did not say anything. She merely sat there staring at him with her hands lying limply in her lap. She was praying silently for a reprieve, but she knew she would simply have to resign herself to the inevitable when those dark, smouldering eyes met hers in the mirror.
An odd sensation spiralled through her when he drew her to her feet, and it left her with a feeling of deadly calm. Was she calm? Or had she somehow lost the ability to feel anything?
Rafe's arm was about her waist, his hand settling in the hollow of her back to draw her up against his hard body, while his free hand cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. His dark, searching gaze held hers for a moment, then he lowered his head and set his mouth on hers. Jo held herself perfectly still. She was neither accepting nor rejecting the passionate demand his mouth was making on hers, and she was beginning to congratulate herself on her control when Rafe's head jerked up.
'What is this, Jo?' he demanded harshly, his expression dark and dangerous. 'Passive acceptance?'
Her features remained composed, but there was a flash of defiance in her green eyes. 'I'll give you the child you want, Rafe, but don't expect more from me than that.'
'If you think I'm going to have you lying supine in my arms when I know that you're capable of a passionate response, then you can think again, Joceline.'
'Whatever I might have felt for you four years ago is no longer there.'
'I wouldn't bet on that if I were you,' he snarled, his arm tightening about her waist like a vice. The look on his face frightened Jo. She turned her head away to avoid his descending mouth, but his hand bunched into a fist in the hair at the nape of her neck, and her head was jerked back with a savage tug. A cry of pain escaped her, and his mouth descended at that moment, stifling her cry to capture her parted lips. He thrust his tongue into her mouth in an erotic exploration of its tender moistness, and the world suddenly seemed to start spinning on its axis.
Jo could not remember exactly what happened after that, but Rafe's hands seemed to be everywhere, disrobing her and ripping off her flimsy nightdress. Somehow he also managed to discard his own clothes, and the shock of his naked flesh against hers sent a terrible weakness surging into her limbs. She had never known him to behave like this— his aggression was frightening—and Jo heard her own scream of terror as if it had come from someone else's throat as he flung her on to the four-poster bed and imprisoned her there with the weight of his heated, aroused body.
There was nothing gentle about the way Rafe was making love to her. There was a barely controlled savagery in the touch of his mouth and his hands on her body, but deep down inside her a pulse was beginning to throb in response, and she despised herself for not being able to control it. Oh, God... help me!
Jo tried to convince herself that she hated what he was doing to her, but she couldn't. He was igniting fires inside her which had lain dormant for far too long, and she was aching for him to fill that void inside her when he finally parted her thighs and thrust himself into her.
She could not believe that she was actually enjoying this physical union. Rafe wasn't making love to her, he was assaulting her, and yet her body was moving with his in that passionate, primitive rhythm of love. Her senses were filled with the exciting taste and smell of him, and she was no longer pushing at his hard, hair-roughened chest, but clinging to his wide shoulders in mindless surrender to the pleasure he aroused.
'No! Oh, no!' she groaned when she felt that sweet, aching tension inside her rising lo a near-intolerable dimension in its search for fulfillment.
Rafe paused for a moment, his breathing ragged and the muscles in his powerful body quiveringly taut. His eyes looked glazed with desire, and they were so dark that they were almost black when he slid his hands beneath her bottom for a deeper penetration, then he delivered them both with a few quick, savage thrusts.
Jo lay limp and gasping for breath beneath the sagging, shuddering weight of Rafe's body while those waves of exquisite sensations subsided inside her. Rafe's laboured breath fanned her throat as he nuzzled her hair, and it was a long time before the wild hammering of their hearts slowed down to a more comfortable pace.
Sanity returned slowly and painfully, bringing with it a sweeping surge of burning shame. Her body, so long denied, had betrayed her, and she despised herself for allowing herself to succumb to that driving, physical need that Rafe had aroused in her. It had left her body sated, but mentally she felt used and so terribly empty.
Rafe eased himself away from her, and reached down to draw the duvet over them. They lay side by side for a long time, neither speaking nor touching, then he lifted himself up on to one elbow and leaned over her.
'Do you still say that what you felt for me before is no longer there?' he demanded, his smile mocking and openly triumphant.
'Damn you, Rafe!' Jo felt like striking him. She could take almost anything, but not his gloating manner in the face of her most humiliating defeat. Damn you to hell, Rafe Andersen!'
'For what?' His eyebrows rose quizzically while he brushed a heavy strand of hair away from her flushed cheek and lightly trailed the back of his fingers along her throat to her shoulder. 'Are you damning me for proving that I can still make you want me?'
'Leave me alone!' she said fiercely, brushing off his hand and turning away from him to lie on the edge of the bed, facing the window.
'I'll leave you alone.' He laughed softly as he moved away from her to switch off his bedside light. 'For now.'
Jo switched off her own light. She welcomed the darkness, and tried desperately to find forgetfulness in sleep, but she was still awake an hour later, listening to Rafe's deep, even breathing. For now! The words echoed repeatedly through her mind. Rafe had said that he would leave her alone... for now! This was just the beginning. That was what he had meant, and Jo wondered how she was going to survive all those days and nights ahead of her without losing what little self-respect and pride she still had left.
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br /> CHAPTER FOUR
AFTER lying awake for most of the night it was not surprising that Jo slept late the Sunday morning, but that was something she rarely did, and she felt guilty that something like that could have happened to her on her first morning at Satanslaagte.
No one slept late on the farm—everyone was always up at the crack of dawn—and Jo could well imagine the scathing remark Averil Andersen would have passed if she had been there. Elsie was straightening from sliding a baking sheet into the oven when Jo entered the kitchen, and the woman's face was a polite mask as she took off her oven mitts and smoothed the white apron she wore over her pink overall.
'Good morning, Elsie.' Jo smiled, but she felt wary and faintly embarrassed. 'I'm afraid I overslept.'
'Master Rafe said not to wake you.'
How thoughtful of him! Jo was smiling cynically when she encountered Elsie's questioning glance.
'Shall I make you something to eat for breakfast, madam?'
Breakfast? Jo's stomach rejected the thought of food, and she shook her head. 'A cup of tea would do fine, thank you, and I'll have it out on the stoep.'
Elsie's dark gaze skimmed briefly over Jo's slender frame in beige trousers, blue knitted sweater and comfortable shoes with low, sturdy heels. She looked absolutely outraged at the thought that Jo could start the day without a decent breakfast, and Jo could not help smiling when she saw Elsie shaking her head disapprovingly as she turned away to switch on the electric kettle.
Jo wandered out on to the stoep and stood with her hands resting lightly on the trellised railings while she breathed in the clean, fresh Karoo air. Fritz, the Alsatian, lay stretched out in the sun below the steps leading down into the garden. He lifted his head and yawned as he made eye contact with Jo, then his head flopped down again between his paws and he promptly went to sleep. Fritz didn't have a care in the world, and Jo wished she could have changed places with him at that moment.
Beyond the garden with its sloping lawns, shady trees and neatly trimmed privet hedges lay the open veld where Rafe grazed his merino sheep. '
Rafe! Jo's gaze settled disconsolately on the distant hills. She had lain awake for so many hours, trying to come to terms with the humiliating defeat she had suffered at his hands and wondering about the change in him. He had been brutal with her, as if he had been driven by a deep-seated anger, and Jo could not decide whether that anger had been directed at her personally, or if he had merely used her as an instrument on which he could vent his explosive feelings.
The sound of a step behind her scattered the troubled thoughts milling through her mind and she turned sharply to see Elsie placing a tray of tea on the glass-topped cane table. Ts there anything else I can get you, madam?'
'No, thank you, Elsie.' Jo's smile was reassuring when she glimpsed a flash of concern in the dark eyes observing her so intently. 'When I've had my tea I might take a walk up on to that koppie behind the house to stretch my legs, and if Master Rafe should return before I do, then you may tell him where I am.'
Elsie nodded and left, and Jo helped herself to a cup of strong tea before she settled herself comfortably in one of the cane chairs.
She drank her tea and stared out across the well-kept garden. Her eyes were on the border of yellow shamrocks, but her mind was elsewhere. Is this how I'm going to spend my days? She asked herself. Am I going to have nothing to do in between meals other than to sit on the stoep and sip tea? No! Not again!
Jo finished her tea quickly and took the tray through to the kitchen. The screen door slammed shut behind her when she stepped outside, and she could feel Elsie's curious glance following her as she was striding out across the yard. Her pace was brisk, and she was approaching the shearing shed before she realised that Fritz had followed her silently and was padding along beside her.
'Thanks, Fritz.' She smiled wanly at the Alsatian as they passed the shearing shed. 'I could do with a friend right now!'
The koppie rose out behind the stables, and it was a steep climb up on to the crest of the small hill, but Jo had always enjoyed the view from there. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and the blood was singing in her veins when she finally lowered herself on to a flat boulder to catch her breath. She had always felt purged and ready to battle with her problems after the stiff climb to the top of the koppie. She felt that way again now as she sat there scanning the distant horizon. Rafe's land stretched almost as far as the eye could see. Sheep were grazing in the camps, or gathering around drinking troughs, but as the middle of the day approached they would seek shade beneath the acacia trees that dotted the sparse vegetation of the Karoo.
There were two men on horseback in one of the camps to the far north. They were two unidentifiable black spots moving slowly across the shimmering, scrub-covered earth, but Jo knew it would be Rafe and Stan.
What did they do when they rode out like that? Count the sheep? Check the fences? The questions racing through her mind made her realise how unenlightened she was about the activities on a sheep farm. It also made her pause to review her own situation. Could she spend the rest of her life with a man who didn't love her? Could she bear him a child to fulfill her part of the agreement, and then renounce her flesh and blood in order to gain her freedom? A blade of dry grass snapped between her agitated fingers.
'Whether you like it, or not, Rafe Andersen, you're going to be stuck with me for life.' Jo spoke her thoughts out aloud to the semi-desert landscape spread out before her. 'If I'm to have your child, then I'm staying on at Satanslaagte to nurse it into adulthood.'
But where would she stand? What would her position be in this household? What, exactly, did Rafe expect of her? She hadn't asked, and he hadn't said, but it was something she had to know!
'Come on, Fritz, it's time to go.'
The dog responded to her call and halted his mad chase after a grasshopper to bound down the hill ahead of her.
Despite Jo's misgivings, Rafe did come home for lunch. She heard Fritz bark a greeting, and her heart seemed to turn over in her breast when Rafe finally walked into the dining-room. It was a painfully familiar sight to see this big, ruggedly handsome man dressed in khaki and dusty suede boots. The smell of the sun and the veld clung to him, it quivered in her sensitive nostrils to awaken unbidden memories, and she had difficulty ridding herself of that aching tightness in her throat. Rafe joined her at the table and helped himself to cold ham and salads. 'I trust you slept well?' he asked with that hateful hint of mockery in his dark eyes.
'I did, thank you,' she answered him stiffly, averting her gaze and attacking the food on her plate with an enthusiasm that stemmed from embarrassment rather than hunger.
'Your face looks sunburnt,' he observed while they ate their meal. 'Did you spend some time out in the sun this morning?'
'I went for a walk up on to the koppie.'
'That's rather a steep climb.'
'I know, but I enjoyed the exercise and I always did like the view from up there.'
Rafe looked up from his plate, his eyebrows raised in a questioning arc above his eyes. 'You've been up there before?'
'Many times.' She put down her knife and fork and dabbed at her mouth with her table napkin. 'Why should that surprise you?'
'You dislike the Karoo, and yet you tell me you climbed the koppie this morning because you've always liked the view from up there.'
'I don't dislike the Karoo. What did I say or do to give you that impression?'
Rafe didn't answer her. He was staring at a point somewhere beyond her left shoulder, and the look of fury that distorted his features made her shrink from him inwardly if not physically. What had she said to make him so angry?
The visible signs of anger faded, but the tension remained until Elsie brought in their tea and cleared the table.
'We must talk, Rafe,' Jo said quietly when they were alone. 'I need to know what you expect of me.'
'I expect to have you in my bed at night.'
She forced herself to remain calm whil
e she fought down a wave of resentment and anger. 'You've already made that perfectly clear, but it still leaves me with a tremendous amount of time on my hands.'
'Ours is not a conventional marriage, so that leaves us both free to live our lives as we choose and separate from one another.'
'Damn it, Rafe, stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about!' she rebuked him sharply. 'I want to know where I stand in this house!'
Rafe's eyes held hers as he swallowed down a mouthful of tea, then he smiled twistedly. 'You may consider yourself mistress of this house for as long as you choose to stay, and whether you make it your home or your prison will be entirely up to you.'
Jo was beginning to see a glimmer of light at the end of this particular tunnel, but she had to be sure. 'In other words,' she began warily, 'I may do whatever I please, and I may make whatever changes I wish in the house as long as it doesn't interfere with the way you choose to live your life?'
'Exactly!' The word seemed to come out on a bark before he drained his cup and pushed back his chair to rise from the table. 'Excuse me. I have work to do.'
Jo scarcely dared to breathe as she watched him stride out of the dining-room. She heard him crossing the hall and moments later a door slammed in the house.
Rafe had gone into his study. This was his private sanctum, and no one, not even Jo, had been allowed to go in there without being invited. That was what Averil Andersen had said, and Jo had taken it for granted that the instruction had come direct from Rafe, but, in retrospect, she doubted it. Averil had done everything within her power to limit the time Jo could have had alone with Rafe, and barring her from entering Rafe's study had been no more than a ruse. Jo finished her tea and took the tray through to the kitchen before she went to her room. Her mind was wide awake, but she felt extraordinarily tired as she closed the bedroom door behind her and kicked off her shoes. She exchanged her trousers and knitted sweater for a towelling robe, and stretched herself out on the bed in an attempt to relax. The past ten days had been physically and mentally taxing, and all she needed was to get some rest.
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