'What I feel for Hunter is totally different.'
'In what way?'
'He attracts me physically in a way no man has ever attracted me before,' she replied with complete honesty. 'It frightens me at times.'
Mike frowned slightly. 'There's nothing wrong with being physically attracted to a man.'
'But it doesn't necessarily mean that you love him, is that what you're saying?' she asked with an embarrassed laugh.
'In a way, yes,' he nodded, then he swallowed down the remainder of his coffee before asking, 'How do you feel about him in other respects?'
Jennifer leaned back in her chair and sighed. 'In these few weeks that I've known him I've been driven to anger more times than I care to mention, and on occasions I've actually been tempted to strike the man!'
'That doesn't sound like you at all,' Mike observed dryly. 'I've always known you as an essentially calm, non-violent sort of girl.'
'I don't quite know myself these days,' she confessed, frowning down at the checkered tablecloth. 'Every time I'm with Hunter he succeeds in shattering my composure, and bringing out the worst in me, but perhaps it's because he makes it so obvious that he despises all women except his mother, of course, and Carla von Brandis.'
'I see,' he smiled faintly, and she felt driven to defend herself.
'I'm not jealous of her, if that's what you're thinking.' 'Aren't you?'
Jennifer smothered her guilt and said instead, 'He's going to marry her.'
'Oh, dear,' he murmured, a peculiar expression on his face as she leaned towards him across the table.
'Mike, he's been hurt before, and I just know that Carla is going to hurt him as well,' she said with some urgency.
A glimmer of surprise lurked in Mike's dark eyes as he observed her closely. 'Are you telling me that, despite the fact that he angers you so much, you can still care what happens to him?'
'I wouldn't like to think of him being hurt again, and…' She paused and smiled a sad, twisted little smile. 'I guess I do love him, don't I?'
'I would say you love him too much, but it isn't much use if he has some other girl in his sights,' he put an ungentle finger on an achingly tender spot, and she winced inwardly.
'I know,' she sighed despairingly.
'You said, I believe, that he despises all women,' Mike remarked after a thoughtful silence had elapsed. 'What reason would he have to despise you?'
'He thinks all women are fickle, and he thinks…'
'Go on,' Mike prompted abruptly when her voice seemed to grind to a halt.
'He thinks that you and I were lovers once, and that we're picking up our affair where we left off in the past,' she managed after a mental battle with herself. 'He's quite convinced that I'm the kind of girl who hops into bed with every man I meet.'
'The man must be a fool!' Mike exploded angrily, but she shook her head to the contrary, conscious of the curious glances which had been directed at them at the sound of Mike's raised voice.
'He just won't let himself trust a woman again,' she explained quietly.
'Have you made any attempts to alter his opinion of you?'
'I'm afraid not,' she grimaced. 'Every time he accuses me unjustly I become so furious that I play along with him, and let him think the worst.'
'That's not very wise of you, Jennifer,' Mike reprimanded her.
'I know, but—' she gestured helplessly with one slender hand, 'what else can I do, short of having myself medically examined and presenting him with a report to prove that I'm not that sort of girl?' When Mike did not reply, she shrugged and added fatalistically, 'At any rate, there's no point in trying to alter his opinion of my character. He's going to marry Carla, and that's that.'
Mike leaned across the table and covered her hand with his own. 'I wish there was something I could do to help.'
'There's nothing anyone can do,' she replied dully, realising for the first time to what extent she had been defeated by circumstances.
When Mike drove her home later that evening and parked his car in the driveway, Jennifer felt that familiar tension coiling through her, and with it came the suspicion that she was being observed. She was being ridiculous, she told herself, but that gnawing suspicion persisted.
'What I actually wanted to tell you this evening was that I'm returning to Cape Town at the end of this week,' Mike told her when he turned in his seat to face her in the moonlit darkness of his car. 'My stint here in Oudtshoorn is at an end, and I think it's time I started a practice of my own.'
'It's time you found yourself a wife and settled down,' she told him with mock severity.
'When I find the right girl I'll let you know,' he laughed carelessly, and she frowned at him in the darkness.
'I hope you find her soon, and I mean that, Mike.'
His fingers brushed lightly against her lips in a silencing gesture. 'Will you give me a call as soon as you're back in Cape Town?'
'Where will I reach you?'
'I'll be moving into my old flat,' he said, 'and the telephone number is still the same.'
She leaned forward impulsively to kiss him on the cheek. 'I'll give you a call,' she promised. 'And thanks for being such a good listener.'
Moments later she was letting herself into the house with the soft purr of Mike's departing car in her ears. The house was in darkness, but Jennifer made her way up the stairs without difficulty. The light on the top landing had been left on to throw a soft glow over the last flight of steps, but, when she turned off towards her room, a harsh voice made her stop dead in her tracks.
'I take it you had a pleasant evening?'
Determined not to lose her temper with Hunter, she turned slowly to face him as he approached her from the direction of his own bedroom.
'I spent a very pleasant evening, thank you,' she replied with a calm she was far from experiencing as her glance travelled over his tall, disturbingly masculine frame. In a white shirt, unbuttoned almost to his waist, and cream-coloured pants, he looked dangerously tanned and virile, and her senses responded to the magnetism he exuded.
'You'll be seeing each other again soon?' he asked.
'Not for quite a while,' she replied, fighting to control her racing pulse when Hunter finally towered over her. 'Mike is returning to Cape Town at the end of this week.'
'What a pity that your reunion was so brief,' he mocked her, 'but I have no doubt you'll be seeing each other again within a few short weeks.'
There was no point in lying, so she met his gaze unfalteringly, and said lightly, 'We've arranged to meet, yes.'
'That doesn't surprise me,' he smiled derisively, his eyes glittering like cold chips of ice. 'Now that you've managed to get your clutches into him again, you're not going to let go easily, are you?'
Damn the man! she thought. She was doing her level best not to lose her temper with him, while he, on the contrary, appeared to be doing everything within his power to rattle her.
'Please, Mr Maynard,' she managed at last. 'I'm tired, and I don't want to argue with you.'
'I wasn't aware that we were arguing,' he contradicted with raised eyebrows. 'I thought we were discussing the evening you spent with Mike Hoffman.'
'I don't wish to discuss it with you,' she stated bluntly, and his eyebrows rose a fraction higher to form a mocking arch above his eyes.
'Don't tell me you've suddenly developed a sense of shame?'
Forcing down yet another wave of anger, she met his mocking glance unwaveringly, and said with as much calm as she could manage, 'I've never done anything I need be ashamed of, and that's the truth.'
'Do you really expect me to believe you when I know that Mike Hoffman has a reputation for seducing almost every woman he meets?' he demanded, his expression hardening until his features seemed to be carved out of granite.
'Mike has never tried to seduce me, not by word or deed, and he also knows that I would never tolerate it.'
He stared at her in silence for a moment, but she soon realised that she migh
t as well have saved her breath, for his expression remained unaltered.
'I must confess that for a moment I almost believed you, but then experience has taught me that women lie so convincingly.'
'You wouldn't know the truth if it were blazoned in fire before your very eyes,' she retorted sharply, her control slipping dangerously as anger washed over her like a heated wave.
'Perhaps you're right, but I happen to need convincing,' Hunter said harshly, his eyes glittering with a matching anger as he lessened the distance between them, 'and who better than you to do that?'
She should have been prepared for what followed, but her reflexes seemed to have become retarded by the effect of his nearness, and the next instant she found herself crushed against his wide chest with his lips taking possession of hers in a savage kiss that made her senses reel violently. She would have given anything at that moment not to respond, but her body went limp against his as her treacherous emotions soared to unimaginable heights. His hands caressed her freely now, moulding her hips to the thrusting hardness of his before seeking the taut swell of her breasts through the soft silk of her dress. She trembled and raised her hands with the intention of pushing him away, but her fingers somehow became locked behind his dark head where his short, neatly trimmed hair was surprisingly soft to the touch.
No one had ever kissed her like this before, not even Colin, and no man had ever been permitted to touch her with such intimacy, but with Hunter it somehow seemed so right. She loved him. If she had ever doubted it before, then she was certain of it now, but in that moment of mad ecstasy she disregarded the urgent warnings which were flashing through her brain. It was only when Hunter released her as suddenly as he had taken her that she began to realise what a fool she had been.
'Do you usually allow a man such freedom, Sister Casey, or did Mike not satisfy you entirely this evening?'
His words stung deep, branding her a wanton, and before she had time to reconsider, she raised her hand and slapped him a stinging blow across the cheek. The sound seemed to reverberate along the passage, and she was white and trembling with shock when she realised what she had done. Except for the clenching of his hands at his sides, Hunter stood immobile, but as she continued to look up into his eyes she knew the first stirrings of real fear. He was quite capable of retaliating in a similar fashion, she realised that now, but instead he lashed her once more with his tongue.
'The truth hurts, doesn't it?' he remarked cuttingly, then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her with the aching knowledge that she had only herself to blame for the conclusions he had reached.
Jennifer was hollow-eyed and pale when she awoke the following morning. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning about in her bed, and it had left her with a feeling of exhaustion she had to cope with for the rest of the day. To avoid Hunter was impossible, but when they did happen to meet he merely treated her with his usual disdain, which was a blessing in some ways, although it hurt in so many others.
She had no idea how she was going to get through the day, let alone the morning, and when Stanley and Carla arrived at Vogelsvlei that afternoon, their cars crunching up the drive with mere seconds in between, Jennifer was beginning to feel like a mechanical robot; doing what she had to do, but doing so without feeling, or enthusiasm.
Tea was served, as usual, on the wide verandah, and the conversation lingered mostly on the latest market price for ostrich feathers, and the best methods in the cultivation of lucerne fields. It was Stanley, however, who finally led the conversation along a totally different avenue.
'They're having the Spring Ball at the Valley Motel this coming Saturday evening,' he announced, manipulating his chair a little closer to Jennifer's. 'Will you go with me, Jennifer?'
She shook her head tiredly. 'I—I don't think—'
'Oh, but you must go, Jennifer. It's one of the social events of the year,' Alice Maynard remarked, then her searching glance was directed at her son. 'You're going, aren't you, Hunter?'
'I haven't given it much thought,' he shrugged his wide shoulders.
'But you must go, darling,' Carla purred persuasively, her hand caressing his arm. 'You promised you'd take me.'
'I promised nothing of the kind.'
'But you said—'
'I said I would think about it and, quite frankly, I haven't had time to do so,' he interrupted with a harshness Jennifer had not heard him use with Carla before.
'But you'll think about it now, won't you?' Carla persisted in an unperturbed fashion, and when he did not reply at once, she added poutingly, 'Oh, please, Hunter? You know how much I've been looking forward to it.'
Hunter's blue gaze met Jennifer's briefly, but it was as if he were looking right through her without seeing her, then he glanced back at the girl seated beside him, and said irritably, 'Very well, Carla, I'll take you.'
'Hunter!' she cried excitedly, leaning across the arm of her chair to hug him. 'You're so sweet!'
'That's enough of that, my dear Carla,' Hunter reprimanded her with a faintly humorous expression on his chiselled face. 'Now be a good girl and pour me another cup of tea.'
'Anything you say, darling,' Carla replied, jumping obligingly to her feet to do his bidding.
'Hmph!' Alice Maynard grunted disparagingly beneath her breath, but no one seemed to hear her except Jennifer, who smiled inwardly at the older woman's displeasure.
'Would anyone else like a second cup of tea?' Carla queried, adopting the role of hostess easily and gracefully.
Alice and Jennifer both declined, but Stanley said cheerfully, 'I'll have another cup, if you don't mind pouring it, Carla.'
She glanced at Stanley over her shoulder and flashed him a sweet smile. 'Of course I don't mind, silly.'
Jennifer was suddenly alert to something which was happening right before her very eyes. Carla passed Hunter his cup of tea with her usual display of affection, but when she turned to give Stanley his cup, Jennifer could have sworn that a silent message passed between them. She was imagining it, of course, she told herself crossly, and tried to forget it.
She did not imagine, however, the sudden urgency in Stanley's manner when he leaned towards her and asked, 'You will go with me to the Spring Ball, won't you, Jennifer?'
A peculiar silence reigned on Vogelsvlei's verandah. It was almost as if everyone were waiting with some anxiety for her to reply to Stanley's invitation, and moments later she heard herself say, 'I'd like to, and thank you for asking me.'
She felt Hunter's eyes on her, compelling her to look at him, and when she did she felt a strange but powerful tremor rippling through her. He was looking at her with a burning and searching intensity that seemed to probe deep into her soul. Afraid of what he might see, she looked away, and then Carla was saying something which succeeded in recapturing Hunter's attention.
Long after everyone had gone, leaving only Alice and Jennifer on the verandah, she was still suffering from the after-effects of that strange look Hunter had given her. It had left her disturbed and shaken, and feeling very much as if an invisible hand had squeezed her heart until it ached.
'Oh, God!' she thought, passing a tired hand over her eyes. 'Why did I have to love a man like Hunter Maynard?'
If Alice noticed Jennifer's disturbed attitude, then she gave no sign that she did, and merely picked up her crocheting to continue working on it.
Jennifer could not, in all sincerity, say that she looked forward to accompanying Stanley to the Spring Ball at the Valley Motel that Saturday evening, but it was too late now to change her mind. She prepared herself for it with very little enthusiasm, and selected at random a pale blue silk evening gown which was still quite new. Blue was not her favourite colour, but the dress was styled simply, and the material clung softly to the gentle curve of breasts and hips, leaving her smooth shoulders bare except for narrow, corded straps.
She would pass, she decided listlessly, glancing at herself in the mirror. She picked up her brush and pulled it
through her naturally wavy hair, but when her hands went up, automatically, to twist it into its usual coil, she decided against it. Just this once she did not care what Hunter thought, and it was, after all, her free evening.
The motel, with its log-cabin appearance, was ablaze with coloured lights when she arrived there with Stanley that evening. The band was blaring out a lively tune while people were trying to make themselves heard above the din, and everyone seemed to know everyone else.
Seated at a table for four behind the large, potted ferns, Jennifer had difficulty in keeping her eyes off Hunter. In a dark, superbly tailored suit, he exuded an aura of virile masculinity which was unmistakable, and her senses stirred sharply each time he passed her chair to take Carla on to the space cleared for dancing. Jennifer had never felt more miserable, and she wished now that she had had the good sense to remain at Vogelsvlei with Alice Maynard. Not once had Hunter asked her to dance; not even on those occasions when Stanley had encouraged Carla on to the floor, and Hunter's lapse had hurt her unbearably.
Jennifer had to admit that Carla, with her dark colouring, looked exquisite in a wine-red evening gown with her liquid brown eyes teasing and enticing whenever they met Hunter's. It was no wonder that Hunter could not keep his eyes off her, and neither, Jennifer noticed, could Stanley. That hungry look was there in his eyes; unveiled, and intense.
There was plenty to eat, but Jennifer had somehow lost her appetite, and neither did she have more to drink than the one glass of wine which Stanley had ordered for her. Stanley, however, seemed to consume a large quantity of alcohol, and Jennifer noticed that she was not the only one who was observing him with a measure of frowning displeasure. Hunter glared at him from time to time with something close to disgust in his eyes, and Jennifer was fast beginning to experience the same feeling each time she danced with Stanley and had to contend with his whisky breath.
It was well after eleven that evening when a daring young man butted in, and Jennifer was only too relieved to escape from Stanley's arms for a few minutes to bother about protesting.
'My name's Dirk Pienaar,' the young man introduced himself. 'And you're Jennifer Casey.'
The Spotted Plume Page 9
