It occurred to her that if she had crossed the rainswept Johannesburg road minutes later, their first ill-fated meeting would not have taken place. She would have met Sloan the first time yesterday at Vins Doux, and the hostility would have been absent from their relationship. The challenge too. And she wondered if she would have preferred it that way.
What a strange thought. One that she did not continue, for at that moment the waitress came with the tray.
The sundaes were as delicious to the tongue as they had looked to the eye. Jill gazed at hers rapturously for a long moment before plunging in her spoon, and a sigh of delight told its own story.
For Teri the confection was an equal delight. On the day she received her first cheque she would bring Jill into town, she resolved, and sundaes would be the first of many treats. She ate slowly, relishing each spoonful, letting the ice-cream dissolve in her mouth before she swallowed. Sloan was silent now, and Teri made no attempt at conversation.
Suddenly aware that she was being watched, she looked up. Sloan's blue eyes were amused. Why, he looked as if he was actually suppressing a laugh!
'What's the joke?' Teri asked.
'You don't know?' She could hear the laughter in his voice now.
He was laughing at her. But she did not know why.
'I seem to amuse you,' she offered uncertainly. And then, as understanding of a sort came to her, 'The sundae…'
The twinkle in his eyes intensified, the lips remained still.
'Miranda wouldn't have ordered it?'
An eyebrow rose at her use of the name. 'Nor would the other women I know.'
'They'd have stuck with tea,' she acknowledged ruefully, ignoring the ridiculous pang the words "other women" evoked. 'They think of their figures.'
'Right.'
'I suppose you think I should too.'
'You wouldn't get fat if you ate a hundred sundaes—not with your build.'
And yet he was amused. Why?
'If you didn't want me to order this, you could have said so,' she said with sudden defiance. 'Anyway, I'm glad I did. I wouldn't have missed it for anything.'
'That's just it. You're enjoying it so much.' She heard a fresh bubble of laughter. 'You must know the picture you present today, Teri. A Vogue model, no less, soignée and elegant with that hair-style, that outfit. A lady of the world.'
'Enjoying her ice-cream like a child.' Now she did understand, and her voice was flat. 'I should have stayed with the tea after all.'
'And now you really are talking nonsense,' he said, as his hands reached across the small space between them and lifted to her head.
The action caught her so unprepared that his fingers were in her hair before her own hands could move to stop them. He was at the pins that secured the chignon. She could not get to the pins herself, instead her fingers tangled with his. Long fingers, hard yet supple, and so sensuous that she shivered as they moved against hers.
Her breath seemed to stop in her throat. Something like panic gripped her, -and for a long moment her hand was quite still against his, and her body was flooded with sensation. The strangest sensation— utterly disturbing! No kiss of Andy's had ever had such an effect.
Later she would wonder how long they had actually sat like this, Sloan's hands under hers, a strange and silent conflict, while Jill continued to eat her ice-cream, oblivious of the electricity that sparked from one adult to the other. Perhaps the whole incident lasted no more than a few seconds—though it seemed like an hour—but Teri knew it would take a long time to forget it.
Abruptly she dropped her hands, and felt as if she had pulled them away from flames. Sloan's hands left her moments later, and her hair fell to her shoulders.
'Enjoy your ice-cream.' His voice was soft.
'While you laugh.' She was glad of the hair that hung like a veil about her bent head, hiding the confusion in her eyes and the warmth in her cheeks.
'While I enjoy watching a girl who looks as if she loves ice-cream.' He was not laughing now. His tone was gentle, and the more disturbing for it.
Teri went on eating the sundae, but the fun had gone out of it. The taste on her tongue was no longer her primary sensation. Rather there was an acute awareness of Sloan, and a quivering inside her body that took all her strength to conceal.
Teri finished the sundae at last, and after what seemed like eternity Jill came to the end of hers. They were free to leave the restaurant, to emerge into the sunlight and the bustle of a busy Cape Town street.
Teri stole a glance at Sloan as they walked to the car. Only his profile was visible some way above her. He looked cool and calm. Nothing' in his demeanour suggested that in the last half hour something had happened to disturb him. In the restaurant the air between them had seemed to vibrate with electricity, she had felt as if her hand could touch it. She had thought that he must feel it too. It came to her now that Sloan had felt nothing at all.
He did not speak on the way back to Vins Doux. He looked preoccupied, Teri thought, and she was glad of it, because it meant she did not need to make small-talk. While they had waited for their order to arrive, conversation had been easy, fluent and flowing, arising out of common interests and an enjoyable stimulation.
And then he had loosened her hair, and she had trembled at the touch of his fingers, and suddenly everything had changed. Part of her wanted to think about what had happened, another part rejected the very idea. Sloan was not her type, his unexpected gentleness in the restaurant notwithstanding, and the less she thought about him the better. If only she could stop herself thinking about him altogether!
Jill sat on the back seat, playing with Miffi, murmuring to her, telling her it was time to sleep. At length the murmurings grew fainter, then stopped. Glancing backward over her shoulder, Teri saw that her sister had fallen asleep. The unaccustomed excitement of the day coupled with the purring movement of the car had been too much for her.
With the doll hugged against her chest, and smears of ice-cream around her mouth, Jill was the picture of a contented child. Teri couldn't help smiling. In just one day the little girl had had more pleasure at Vins Doux than she had experienced in all the months since her parents had died. And there would be other good times for her, Teri knew. As far as Jill was concerned the decision to come to the Cape had been the right one.
She turned back, her eyes alighting on the rugged face of the driver as she did so. The smile faded from her lips as a question came into her mind. 'Was the decision the right one for me?'
The aroma of newly-ground coffee was in the air as Teri and Jill walked through the doors of the sun-room next morning. Supper was eaten in the dining-room, but Emma liked to have breakfast in the glassed-in room on the east side, where the sun streamed through the windows for most of the day. The room had been added on to the house in recent years. Plants were everywhere, philodendrons trailed over white trellises, a group of cacti stood prickly stiff on a windowsill, and in a corner an azalea was just coming into delicate pink flower. Unlike the rest of the house, where the furniture was mostly antique, here the tables and chairs were of cane, and a red and white cloth patterned in a bold African design covered the table. Teri knew that after the library this room would be her favourite.
She was smiling as she came into the room where Emma was pouring coffee. 'Good morning, I'm so sorry I'm late. This air is just…' She stopped. Sloan was at the table, she wondered why she had not seen him immediately.
'You're not late at all, dears.' Emma's smile was warm and forgiving. 'Come and sit down and help yourselves to some scones. They're still warm from the oven.'
'The air is just what?' Sloan asked.
'Intoxicating,' Teri answered after a moment. 'I've heard of air like champagne and never known what it meant, and now I do know, because I think I feel a little drunk on it. I haven't slept this late in ages!'
She wondered if the words hid her feeling of awkwardness. On waking she had taken a shower before dressing in jeans and a plaid shirt. H
er hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her only concession to make-up was a touch of gloss at her lips. A glance in the mirror had shown her a girl who looked much younger than her years, a very different image from the one she had presented to Sloan a day earlier. Her appearance should not matter, yet for some reason it did. Even in casual trousers and open-necked shirt Sloan looked so ruggedly in control of himself that she thought regretfully of yesterday's image. It had been a mask of a kind, a facade from behind which she could try to meet him on equal terms.
Which was nonsense. She was what she was, and neither clothes nor make-up could, nor should, make a difference. So deciding, she took a scone from the basket, buttered it with careful fingers, and put it on Jill's new red plastic plate.
'I hope you'll sleep late often, Teri,' said Emma. 'By the way, Sloan, did I tell you that I'd heard from Bruce and Virginia? They'll be arriving some time this afternoon.'
'Ah.'
In the act of buttering a scone for herself, Teri looked up, caught by an inflection in Sloan's tone. His face was devoid of expression. He was leaning back in his chair, hands spread casually before him, his pose relaxed. And yet Teri would have said he was anything but relaxed, and she wondered how she knew it.
'My niece and nephew,' Emma explained, turning to her.
'They're coming to stay at Vins Doux?' Teri was curious at this first mention of Emma's family.
'Yes.' Emma took the coffee-pot and topped up a cup that was almost full. 'Sloan, you will join us for dinner?'
'I'll be here.'
Not for the first time Teri was struck by what seemed the curious relationship between the two. Emma seemed almost to defer to Sloan. Her manner with other members of her staff, though always friendly, was different.
'I thought we'd eat around seven-thirty. That will give us time…' She stopped.
Time for what? Teri wondered idly, only to sit up in her chair as Emma went on, 'You'll take Teri with you this morning, Sloan?'
'I don't need to do any more shopping.' The words came out too quickly.
'Sloan is going to show you around Vins Doux,' Emma said.
Somehow Teri managed to bite back the word 'no' that came so instinctively to her lips. Instead she said quietly, 'I've already seen the house and the vineyards.'
'You didn't get very far,' Sloan observed.
His mouth had taken on the amused slant that she was beginning to know, and the eyes that held hers were faintly sardonic. He knows, Teri thought, he knows how I feel about going with him.
'I don't think Jill could manage it,' she said, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being the first to look away.
'Jill can spend the morning with me,' said Emma. 'And if I get tired, Jessie will look after her.
Sloan grinned. 'I thought we'd go on horseback.'
She could say that she didn't ride, and he would tell her that he would teach her. Besides, Emma was aware of the new breeches reposing in Teri's wardrobe, for she had urged her to include them in her purchases. Teri looked from one to the other and knew it would be better to save her excuses for an occasion when she had more chance of getting her way. And she tried to quell the quiver of excitement, the quite unjustified quiver of excitement, that flicked through her at the idea of being alone with Sloan. It was even possible that she would enjoy herself.
She was enjoying herself, she decided half an hour later. It was her first time on a horse, but far from being nervous, as Emma had thought she might be, Teri felt exhilarated. To riding born, she thought joyfully, and knew she would do this again, and often.
She had caught back her hair in a scarlet snood that matched the red in the plaid of her shirt, and she laughed as she felt the wind seize it and play with it. Beneath her the motion of the mare Sloan had chosen for her was gentle and rhythmic, and ahead of her was Sloan himself, tall and supple on his own horse. He turned around as the wind threw the sound of her laughter towards him. On his face was a question, but she smiled and shook her head.
She had been a fool even to think twice about letting him show her around. The air was crisp and sweet, and on either side of the trail the vineyards stretched all the way to the mountains. They had ridden some way through an estate that was even bigger than she had imagined. New vistas enfolded constantly, enchanting Teri at every bend of the trail.
And all the while she was aware of the man on the horse just yards in front of her. Even when her eyes were on the vineyards, on the bunches of grapes that would ripen and be made into wine, she was aware of Sloan. With a slight sense of shock she realised that she did not need to see his face to know how he looked. The supple build, the rugged features, all were imprinted on her mind as clearly as words are in print on the pages of a book.
How had such a thing happened? And so quickly? It must be the air. She had told Emma and Sloan that it made her feel drunk, perhaps it also made her perceptions more acute. Andy's features would be just as clear to her. Closing her eyes, Teri focused on Andy. There was an impression of kindness, of sheer niceness. Of a round face and sandy hair. And that was all. A little shocked, Teri looked again at the figure in front of her, and then, with an effort this time, she forced her attention back to the vineyards.
At the wine cellars they reined in the horses. Sloan dismounted quickly, and as she saw him come to her Teri made to do the same. But he was quicker than she was, and his hands were on her waist, lifting her down.
She thought he would release her as her feet touched the ground, but he did not do so immediately. He stood close to her, very close, his hands on her waist, his fingers spreading down towards her hips. She looked up at him, and found that he was looking at her. He was very tall, taller than she had realised, and though only his hands were touching her, in some strange way she seemed to have contact with every inch of his body. Yesterday, in the restaurant, she had experienced a strange longing. Now as she saw his eyes on her lips, she felt it again, the same feeling but stronger, and her heart was pounding hard against her ribs.
She dropped her eyes to his mouth. How would it feel on hers? She was insane even to wonder! One man's lips were surely much like another's, she had been kissed by Andy and by other men before him. How could she be so certain that Sloan's kiss would be different?
The hands on her waist tightened a fraction, the movement bringing her closer to him. She could feel every one of his fingers, they seemed to burn through her shirt on to her skin. After a moment he let her go—and she didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed. 'What a mixed-up creature I am!' she thought in disgust.
In the cellars it was dark. There was a pungent smell that Teri would forever associate with the making of wine. And with Sloan.
She thought she would not be able to concentrate as Sloan explained to her the various processes through which the grapes must go before wine is bottled. Yet in no time her interest was caught, and as they went from one part of the cellars to the next, she followed him, listening to his explanations with rapt attention.
He spoke easily, he had the ability to make what he said absorbing. Teri hung on his words with as much fascination as when they had discussed mutual interests in the restaurant.
'You make a good tour guide,' she observed at length, as she watched bottles emerge corked and labelled.
'Thank you, kind lady. All the more reason for me to let you complete the tour in time-honoured fashion.' Teri gave a puzzled look and Sloan laughed. 'Wine-tasting is what we generally keep for last.'
Generally… How many others had gone with Sloan on this tour? And how many of them had been women? Firmly she pushed the question from her mind.
'Last and best, I hope,' she responded with a little laugh of her own.
'That's for you to decide. Well, what will it be? White wine or red? Where does your fancy lie, Teri?'
She loved wine, but she was no connoisseur. She looked at. the bottles, the white wines, the Rieslings, a clear amber colour. The roses, darker than blood, sparkling. He was waiting for
her to choose.
'Red,' she suggested.
Sloan decanted the wine into a small crystal wineglass. She watched him take a sip. 'Another of our customs,' he grinned. 'Your turn now, Teri.'
She waited for him to fill up a second glass, but he did not. Instead he reached the glass to her, holding on to it when she would have taken it from him. He lifted it to her lips, and now he was again very close to her.
She felt his hand touch her chin. The touch was like a caress—a caress, the dominant quality of which was not warmth but sensuousness. Involuntarily Teri's eyes went up, and as her eyes met Sloan's the breath skittered in her throat. She took a sip of the wine and did not taste it. It was as if the only taste her senses could perceive was that which his lips had left on the glass.
'Like it?' he asked softly.
'Yes,' she said unsteadily, and knew that if they were talking of the wine they were also talking of something else. 'Do you?'
He did not answer for a moment. A long moment in which he studied her face as intently as if he were committing every feature to memory, before he dropped his eyes to her throat where a pulse beat madly, and to the outline of her breasts straining beneath a shirt that was a little damp from the exertion of the ride. Then he said, 'Why not?' And, giving her no time to ponder the strange turn of phrase, 'Want some more?'
Teri had never felt more uncertain of herself. 'I'm not sure.'
'You don't know what you want, Teri? I'd have thought you did—most of the time.' His voice was rough, and now he had lost her. She knew he was alluding to something, and wished she knew what.
She didn't know what made her say, 'Do you always know what you want?'
Serpent in Paradise Page 6
